My Dearest Cal (5 page)

“Then how?”

“I can be very resourceful when I have to be. He
dropped a couple of clues, unwittingly by the way, and I ran with them. Don’t go blaming him for my turning up here.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Dammit all to hell, woman, what is it you want from me?”

“It’s not all that complicated. I just want you to go see your grandmother. If you’d just read the letter, you’d see how important it is.” She reached in her pocket for the envelope, but he was already backing away as if she were about to offer him a red-hot poker, fiery end first.

“It’s just a letter, for goodness sakes. It wouldn’t kill you to read it.”

“How do I even know she’s mine?”

The look Marilou gave him when he said that would have withered a cactus. Cal muttered another oath under his breath and realized he’d done more swearing in the past few hours than he’d done in the past year. It was not a good sign. He only cussed when he couldn’t think of anything sensible to say. This pint-size hellion did not inspire clear thinking. Between needling his conscience and triggering his hormones, she was more worrisome than a boardroom filled with outraged stockholders. He knew how to soothe them with bottom lines and profit margins. He didn’t have a clue about what tactics might work on the woman whose big green eyes were fixed on him so steadily. He hated the disappointment that rose in them every time he denied this grandmother she claimed was his.

“Okay,” he said finally. “You say she’s mine. I
asked before and I’ll say it again: How come nobody in my family ever mentioned her?”

“Did you ask?”

Cal squirmed under that direct, no-nonsense gaze. He wondered if this prickly woman had a husband. Despite her obvious physical attributes, he couldn’t imagine any man in his right mind putting up with her. She’d be hell on a guilty conscience. She was playing havoc with his, and he didn’t have a blasted thing to feel guilty about. He’d put his family ties, such as they were, behind him long ago to no one’s regret.

“No, I never asked. I figured you either had grandparents or you didn’t. If you didn’t, most likely they were dead.”

“Well, one of yours isn’t. Yet,” she amended significantly.

“Okay. Okay. You’ve made your point. I’ll think about what you’ve said. Go on back to wherever you came from and I’ll take care of it.”

If he expected that to be the end of it, he quickly realized that he’d underestimated her determination. She regarded him with blatant skepticism. “That doesn’t sound like much of a promise to me. How do I know you won’t rip up the letter the minute I’m out the door?”

“You don’t.”

He knew it was the wrong answer the minute he’d said it. He cursed himself for a fool when she scowled, folded her arms across her chest and declared with open defiance, “Then I’m not going.”

“Good Lord, woman, do you plan to move in?”

That took a little of the starch out of her. She struck him as the sort of woman who jumped in impetuously and then was too stubborn to back down. Once she saw the obvious implications of her crazy stance, she’d run. Never in a million years would she allow herself to be trapped into staying with a couple of men she’d never seen before today. She’d be on the road by sundown and glad to escape.

“No, of course not…I mean…”

There, he thought with satisfaction, grinning at her confusion. “Puts you in a bit of a quandary then, doesn’t it?”

Her gaze narrowed at the ill-advised taunt, and her chin rose another notch. “Maybe I will, after all…if that’s what it takes.”

It was sheer bravado, but Cal had been in enough negotiating sessions in his time to recognize a tactical blunder when it smacked him between the eyes. He’d pushed too hard…again. He should have given her room to maneuver, to retreat gracefully. He found an out and offered it, a little desperately if the truth be known. “You’re probably expected back at your hotel.”

“No,” she said, too quickly, then reconsidered. “I mean, not for hours yet.”

He threw up his hands at her naïveté. A woman this innocent had no business being let loose on her own. “Don’t you know how much trouble you could get yourself into telling a strange man that you’re all alone down here?” he asked impatiently. “You don’t
know anything about me. I could be a second cousin to Jack the Ripper.”

Surprisingly she grinned at his irritation. “I doubt that.”

“You’re too damned trusting.”

“Not really. I just figure that the second cousin to Jack the Ripper would not go planting the idea in my mind, unless it was meant to scare me off.”

“That’s exactly what it’s meant to do.”

“But not because you’re dangerous,” she said with such absolute certainty that it gave him an odd little quiver in the region of his heart. “You just don’t want to deal with this business about your grandmother.”

“Fine. You caught me. I don’t want to deal with it. I am not going to deal with it. So you might as well go.”

She was shaking her head before he was done. She squared her shoulders and then she smiled. That smile had probably devastated tougher men than him. Cal fought its impact without much success. He could feel the warmth seeping into him, curling around his cold emotions.

“I don’t think I’ll leave just yet,” she said softly.

Something that felt astonishingly like relief flooded through him. He suddenly realized that the prospect of having Miss Marilou Stockton around a while longer wasn’t quite as displeasing as it ought to have been. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as keen on peace and quiet as he’d thought.

Or maybe he’d just noticed how seeing a woman in this big old homey kitchen felt right. He wondered
what other rooms she’d suit. He doubted that the feisty little gal in front of him would be flattered if she knew the decidedly wicked direction his thoughts were taking. Nor would she feel quite so safe. It would be better in the long run for both of them if she went now.

“If you’re staying, how about fixing dinner?” he baited, trying a new tactic and wondering exactly how far he’d have to push her before she’d bolt from this dare. Finding out could be fascinating. Nothing entertained him more than testing the mettle of a woman. He hadn’t met one yet who could withstand his scrutiny.

Ignoring the dull flush creeping into her cheeks, he added, “Chaney and I are getting tired of steak, which is about the only thing we can cook without ruining it.”

“If you’d weed that garden I saw out back, maybe you’d have some decent vegetables to have with your steak.”

“I’m not looking for recipes. I’m after a cook. Are you willing?”

She stared at him incredulously, clearly stunned by this unexpected turnaround. “You…you
want
me to stay?”

He shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself. All I’m saying is if you’re going to hang around, you might as well make yourself useful. I’ve been thinking it was about time to hire on a housekeeper. I suppose you’d do as good as anyone.”

“I would do?
Do?
” Indignation sparked in her
eyes. “You’re crazy, you know that? You are flat-out, ought-to-be-locked-up crazy if you think I’m going to play housekeeper for the pair of you.”

“There’s no playing to it. I’ll pay good wages. Besides, it looks to me as if you’ve already got a good start on the job,” he said, gazing pointedly in the direction of the washer, which was now well into its spin cycle and apparently without the benefit of detergent, since the powder was all over the floor. “Might’s well plunge in whole hog.”

Her gaze narrowed. “I thought you wanted me as far away from here as possible and the sooner the better.”

He grinned. It was working. At last he’d found the way to make her turn tail and run. “Maybe I’ve reconsidered. I’m a pragmatic man. You’re still here. It’s getting dark and Chaney and I are getting hungry.”

“I thought you’d be eating with Lady what’s-her-name.”

He almost burst out laughing at that, but managed to say with a straight face, “She’s a little off her feed tonight.”

“Too bad.” She said it politely enough, but for a woman who’d gone all mushy about his grandmother, she didn’t seem to him to be very sorry for Lady Mary.

“So, how about it?” he prodded. “The refrigerator’s well stocked.”

“Then use your imagination and fix your own damn meal,” she suggested, but she didn’t bolt for
the door as he’d intended. Nor did she make a move toward the stove. As a matter of fact, she pulled out a chair and plunked herself down on it, then stared up at him expectantly, those big green eyes flashing fire again. The responding heat that flamed through him took him by surprise. He suddenly realized that this latest miscalculation was likely to cost him dearly. It took her about ten seconds to confirm it.

She smiled up at him with saucy arrogance and said sweetly, “As long as you’re cooking, I’ll take my steak rare.”

Chapter Four

M
arilou was fully aware that she had just boxed herself into an impossible corner. Even as the words had tumbled across her lips, she’d been astonished at her impulsive declaration. Moving in, for heaven’s sakes? Was she out of her mind or simply out of her depth?

Well, she was definitely the latter and quite possibly the former. Matching wits with a man like Cal Rivers was no game for a woman like her. She didn’t have the slightest idea of the rules or how to play by them.

At some point, she had vaguely recognized the subtle shift from mental to sensual challenge, and still she’d been helpless to abandon the fray. In fact, to her shock, she’d been invigorated by it, compelled to
take his dares simply because he’d made them and because she knew that he’d expected her to refuse. She’d enjoyed watching his expression go from wary to amused to stunned in a matter of seconds. It was the most exciting, reckless thing she’d done in all of her twenty-five years.

Now, with second thoughts popping up like weeds, it appeared she was stuck. She couldn’t very well say thanks for the steak, then wave and wander off once dinner was done. He’d be laughing at her from now till Sunday. No, her pride wouldn’t permit that. Nor would her determined commitment to Cal’s grandmother, a woman she was never even likely to meet but for whom she felt an odd, special kinship. Besides, she countered the rising doubts, this might very well be the closest she ever came to a longed-for adventure. She wasn’t about to walk away from it just when it was getting interesting.

Actually, it was getting downright fascinating, she decided as she gazed out the back door and watched the subtle bunching of the muscles across Cal’s broad shoulders as he hunkered down to start the grill, a puny little hibachi meant for picnics, not full-scale dinners at home. He’d stuffed a package of frozen vegetables into the microwave, along with three potatoes, and turned it on for twenty minutes. Marilou shuddered. The minute he wasn’t looking she retrieved the vegetables and waited expectantly for the potatoes to explode, since he hadn’t bothered to pierce the skins.

Directing a glare at her as he entered, he stomped
past, grabbed a package of steaks from the freezer and headed for the still-cold grill. Marilou couldn’t bear to watch.

“Cal?” she said finally.

“What?” he growled.

“Don’t you think you ought to defrost those first in the microwave?”

“They’ll defrost on the grill.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“Either you cook or you shut up. I don’t need any coaching from the sidelines.”

She groaned as he plunked the solid steaks onto the grill. “No. You do need a housekeeper. I can see that now. Maybe we could strike a deal after all.”

He gazed at her distrustfully. “Oh?”

“Just short-term. I’ll help out around here tonight, if you’ll think about going to see your grandmother.” She discovered that she was not above a little bribery. It was not a discovery that especially pleased her.

He regarded the icy beef, frowned, then met her gaze.

“No steaks?”

She hurriedly improvised a menu. “Spaghetti with the best sauce this side of Italy.”

His expression brightened hopefully, like a kid promised chocolate chip cookies. “No kidding?”

“I never kid about my sauce.”

“No more nagging, at least through dinner?”

“No nagging,” she conceded reluctantly.

“You don’t expect any promises?”

“No promises, except that you’ll do some honest soul-searching.”

“You drive a hard bargain for such a little thing, but for a decent meal I think I just might promise you the moon.”

“We’ll save that, in case you haven’t made up your mind by breakfast.”

A killer grin spread across his face, the kind of grin that made female knees go weak and hearts pound. Her body responded with disgusting predictability as he warned, “Be careful, lady. You tell me you can make pancakes and easy-over eggs and it could take me months to give this problem the thoughtful consideration it deserves.”

“Oh, no,” she said, laughing. “This offer has an expiration date, and it could change at any second if I suspect you’re not keeping your end of the deal.”

“Are you married, Marilou Stockton?”

She was startled by the question and by the fact that he’d leaned in close to ask it. She could smell the heady masculine scent of him and feel the tug of his body heat. “No,” she said, her voice suddenly whisper soft.

He nodded in satisfaction, then grinned. “I didn’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got a tongue that’s sharp enough to cut out a man’s heart.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a woman you’re expecting to cook your dinner.”

“You won’t lace the food with arsenic.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Then you’d never get me to Wyoming.” He was whistling cheerfully as he left the room, so cheerfully in fact that Marilou wondered if she hadn’t just played right into his hand. The amazing thing was that she didn’t seem to care if she had. She was beginning to enjoy the unexpected and thoroughly outrageous twists and turns the day had taken.

* * *

If Chaney was stunned to find Marilou in the kitchen and spaghetti with homemade sauce on the table, he kept it to himself, casting sly glances from her to his taciturn boss and back again. He attacked the dinner like a man who’d been starved, and whatever questions he had about the turn of events, he bit back, while Marilou was left with a whole string of questions herself.