Montana Legend (Harlequin Historical, No. 624) (15 page)

“The kissing, right?” The solution seemed clear. “I won't kiss you anymore. My word of honor.”

“Well, I wasn't complaining about the kisses.” She blushed a little.

His chest swelled. She liked his kisses, huh? He'd already figured that out. “No kissing during working hours. I figure you can fix up the place the way Lucy wants it. Find pillows and curtains and whatnot. That ought to keep you busy for a while.”

“You act as if I've already accepted.”

“You ought to. For the girls' sake,” he clarified because it was easier than the truth. “If you worked for me, you wouldn't have to uproot Ella. You could stay right here in town, like you're doing. For someone who cooks the way you do, I'd pay well.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure. So, are you going to accept my brilliant offer or not?”

“Brilliant?”

“Yep. I know you're one of the smartest women I've met, so I expect you'll accept.”

Oh, he could charm the skin off a snake. Sarah ran
her finger through the beads of condensation on the glass in front of her. Work for Gage? She didn't want to be his employee. She wanted more of what she'd felt last night.

As if he remembered, he covered her hand with his. All trace of humor was gone. “I want you to stay, Sarah.”

She envisioned how it would be working in his home, the easy laughter, the warm companionship.

“Think about it?” he asked, more a command than a question. But there was a plea in his eyes. A need for her.

It changed everything.

He needed her. Not a housekeeper. Not a cook. Her, Sarah Redding.

“Maybe I'd like the job in Price better.” She watched him carefully. “But I suppose I'd rather stick close to home. I like our room upstairs, and Ella is settled here.”

“See? I knew you were a smart woman.” He took the water glass she'd drank from and took a long pull from it, gazing at her over the rim.

His silence said what he did not.

H
er first afternoon in Gage's kitchen. Sarah wiped up the last of the egg she'd dropped, glad that at least Gage was out in the corral. He would have taken one look at the floor and changed his mind about hiring her. She couldn't seem to keep her hands steady, wondering when he was about to walk in the door—

The screen door banged open. Gage? She whirled around, the washcloth in hand. When she spotted Lucy bounding into the kitchen with Ella close on her heels, Sarah released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

“Do you know what, Sarah? The kittens are even bigger than they were yesterday.”

“They're bigger, Ma,” Ella confirmed.

“Know what, Sarah?” Lucy jumped across the room. “I like that you're here.”

“Really?” Sarah dropped the washcloth in the wash pile. “You've only told me so five times since you've been home from school.”

“I just like you here.” Lucy bounded up on tiptoe. “Whatcha makin'?”

Ella grabbed hold of the counter, too. “I know. It's meat loaf.”

“That's right.” Sarah pulled Ella into her skirts and gave her a hug. “What are you girls up to now?”

“We're gonna make mud pies.” Ella's face was pink from running, and she looked a little healthier, as if she were finally starting to put meat on her rail-thin bones.

It was good they were staying here in town, Sarah decided. She owed it all to Gage.

“This ought to help the mud pie bakers.” She rescued a battered muffin tin from the lower cupboards. “Let's see. You're going to need a spoon.”

“And a bowl.” Lucy eagerly took the bent spoon Sarah handed her and dove into the cupboard.

“The mixing bowl is mine. Here, take this kettle. It should work.”

“Okay. C'mon, Lucy!” Ella dashed off, leading the way for once, the muffin tin clutched in both hands.

Lucy followed eagerly, letting the screen door slam shut with an ear-splitting
thwack.

“Who were those wild girls?”

“Gage.” She hadn't heard him come in, but there he was, leaning against the door frame with the smile she couldn't resist. The one he seemed to smile only for her.

“I'm not sure, but they looked a lot like your Lucy and my Ella.”

“They look like they're having fun.” Gage strolled into the kitchen, his hat bent and his shirt torn. A dusty hoof print adorned the upper right side of his shirt.

“What happened to you?”

“The usual. That colt and I had a disagreement
about who was going to wear a bridle and who wasn't. Believe it or not, I won.”

“Doesn't look like it.” She wiped her hands on her apron hem and dug in her pocket for a clean handkerchief. “You're bleeding.”

“I do that a lot.”

“And it's dripping all over the floor.”

“Next you're going to say you just cleaned that floor.”

“Not exactly, but I'm going to have to.” She pressed the cloth to the corner of his brow. “What did you do? Land in a bramble bush?”

“I'm not that clumsy.” But his sheepish grin told the truth.

“You did. A respected lawman, indeed, falling into the sticker patch. If the women in town knew, your sterling reputation would be tarnished a bit.” She grabbed him by the shirtsleeve and pulled. “Come over here into the light where I can get a good look. Yes, I'm going to have to dig out those thorns.”

“That's where you're wrong. If I bleed enough, they'll come out on their own.”

“That's one method. Here's another.” She rummaged through the cupboards. “No, you stay right where you are. I'm not about to let my boss expire because of an untreated festering wound.”

“You care about your paycheck more than me?”

“I'm ruthless that way.”

“I'm crushed.” Gage glanced toward the door as if he were planning an escape. “I came in for a clean shirt, not to be fussed over. I'll just head on upstairs—”

“Why are you in a hurry?” She uncapped the little brown bottle. “You're hurt.”

“Why am I in a hurry? Well, I've got two dozen horses that need to be ready to go by early next week and not enough days to do it. But I want the contract, so there you have it. I don't have time for doctoring. Besides, I've been hurt worse.”

“Not enough time, huh?” She reached into her apron pocket, glad to see she had the upper hand. “Fortunately for you, I know exactly what to do. You don't have to go to the trouble of heading to town. Wait one minute.”

“What are you up to, Mrs. Redding? And say, what's for supper. My hired men are going to be hungry—”

“Is that fear I hear in your voice? A big strong man like you?” She withdrew a pair of small scissors and watched his eyes widen. “You
are
afraid.”

“I'm not partial to doctors or doctoring.”

“Those wounds could fester and then where will you be?” She tsked, shaking her head slowly, as if to scold him, but her eyes were laughing. Her mouth, soft and generously cut, a mouth made for kissing, curved into a gentle grin.

He'd kissed that mouth and he wanted to again. Right now. This very minute. And he had to fight the urge. It was like a blind, raging impulse rolling over him with the force of a spring twister. Destroying every drop of willpower and control. Leaving only a tenuous thread of resolve. He would not kiss her.

At least not until suppertime, when she was no longer his housekeeper for the day.

The cool cloth touched his brow. Pain clawed through the cut on his forehead.

“Ow. That hurts. Worse than the sticker bush.” He tried to pull away, but Sarah pushed him into a chair
and wrapped her hand around his head. She held him there, eye level with her breasts.

He might not be a gentleman to notice, but it was damn hard to look anywhere else since she had held him captive, rubbing that hellish medicine into his cut without mercy.

“Angel, I don't need doctoring.”

“Too bad. Just stay still and let me pull out these thorns.”

That hurt, too. Still, the view was good. He had to appreciate that. She had nice breasts, soft-looking and full. Just the right size to fill his palms. His fingers itched to hold her, to feel the weight of her.

A man could lose his willpower gazing at those breasts.

“There, now hold this while I cut a bandage.” She placed a cloth on his cut and reached for the evil little medicine bottle.

He watched her breasts sway slightly and it made him wonder. Imagine how would her breasts move when he had her astride him naked and…

“There, it wasn't too bad, was it?” She smiled at him. “You ripped your sleeve right here. It's bloody.”

“Is it?” He couldn't get the image of her naked and astride him out of his head. He didn't want to.

A little curl had escaped her braid and he brushed it away from the side of her face. Her skin was like heated silk, far more fine than anything he'd ever touched.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“So I can bandage this.” She tapped his arm right above the cut.

Pain broke through the haze of his thoughts. He
cleared his throat. Now, see how far this had gone? Good thing he had willpower, because he was going to need it. “Sorry, darlin'. I thought we agreed to no kissing during working hours. I assumed that included nudity.”

“You know what I mean.” She gave him a no-nonsense look as her nimble fingers plucked at his buttons.

Fabric fell away in a whisper, and his pulse thudded so loud in his chest it was a shock that she couldn't hear it. He was hot and bothered and gritted his teeth as her fingertips grazed his shoulder. The shirt slipped away entirely.

Reason tumbled away as her hand splayed at the base of his neck, taking him to a place where there was no logic, no rational thought.

Overwhelming need hammered through him, leaving him weak. He yearned to pull her onto his lap and to loosen the gray buttons marching down her prim-and-proper bodice. To peel away layers of starched muslin and secret lace and suckle her until she cried out his name…

“Ow.”

“There, I got the last thorn. It's over.” She stroked her stinging medicine across his upper shoulder. “Lift your arm.”

“I'm afraid to. What are you going to do?”

“Trust me, you big baby.”

“Hey, I'm tough. Don't you ever doubt it.”

“Tough as stone. Sure.” She laughed as if she didn't believe him, a warm wonderful sound filling the kitchen like sunlight. “I'm almost done torturing you. Lift your arm.”

“Not without some sort of reward.”

“Reward? Like a cookie?”

“No. I want something sweeter.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

She tumbled against him with a shriek. “You and I had an agreement, buster.”

“Yep. I might have warned you I'm a dishonest sort. Break my word constantly.”

“I noticed that about you first off, that you are a disreputable sort of man. You fooled other people, but not me.”

He hooked his forefinger over the lacy edge of her collar and tugged. Her laughter became her kiss, and he took what she offered, deep and hard. He found pleasure in her moan.

She liked that, did she? He plowed his fingers through her hair, holding her captive, loving the feel of golden silk against his hand. He smoothed his fingers along the graceful line of her back to her hip.

She dragged her mouth from his, breathing fast and shallow, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “Supper is likely to be late and what will my boss think of that?”

“I'm not your boss.” He could feel the beat of her pulse at the base of her throat, and he kissed her there, where her skin was as white as satin and as sweet as spun sugar. “You're not here to work for me. You're here to see how this works out. This. Between us.”

He nudged her just right against him, and her eyes went black as she realized how much he wanted her. Beyond reason. Beyond what he believed to be true.

He pulled her close for another kiss, his hand grazing the outside curve of her breast. When she didn't pull away, he whisked his thumb along the peak of her and felt her nipple harden.

“What are you doing to me, sir?” She leaned her forehead against his, breathless.

“I might ask you the same question, ma'am.” He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked just enough to make her groan.

Bootsteps thumped on the step outside and a knock rattled the screen door. “Gage? You in there?”

Sarah shot off his lap, and he caught her by the wrist so she wouldn't go far.

“He can't see us. Don't worry.” He kissed her brow as he shrugged into his shirt, breathing in the scent of her, of roses and woman. So damn good. “I've got to go.”

“A good idea.” She blushed a little, touching her kiss-swollen lips, as if to let him know she liked his kiss, his touch.

She was a mature woman. She'd been married. No doubt she missed the pleasures of the marriage bed as much as he did. That gave him hope as he met Juan at the door.

“More trouble with that colt?”

The hired man shook his head. It was something worse. They headed outside, and Gage lowered his voice so Sarah couldn't hear. “Trouble at the creek?”

“Yep. Knocked out the fence posts the boys put in yesterday. Happened sometime in the night. They're replacing them. We'll have to see what happens next.”

“We bring in the sheriff, that's what. No violence. There are children around. A stray bullet could do serious harm.”

“Right.” Juan nodded once in agreement before he headed off, ready to solve the problem.

Milt was a problem, but nothing Gage was going to let ruin his day. The property line dispute was a matter
of law. Milt would have to understand that and leave the fence posts alone. Or there would be trouble.

Gage figured he'd set up a night watch, just to be safe. That ought to be a good solution.

Heading toward the corral, Gage tried to turn his thoughts to the colt he was training, and failed. Sarah's scent was on his clothes. The lingering memory of her embrace warmed him from the inside out. Filled up the lonely places deep within.

“Pa! Look at our mud.” Lucy held a mud-caked spoon in her hand while Ella set the mud-filled tin on a rock to bake.

“Good job, girls. Looks like great mud to me.”

This felt right, somehow. He had work he loved, a happy daughter and an amazing woman in his house who made him laugh.

When he looked over his shoulder, Sarah was in the window. She lifted her hand in a quick wave, and it struck him then where this relationship was headed. That he just might want a woman more than his freedom.

Sarah disappeared at the window but never from his thoughts. Not from his moment forth.

 

Sarah caught glimpses of Gage the rest of the afternoon through the window while she worked. Glimpses of his bronzed shoulders and back through the corral rails, burnished by the warm sun.

As she shredded potatoes, she couldn't help noticing the way he held the leather lunge line in one hand. Sometimes, if the wind blew just right, she could hear the low rumbling timbre of Gage's voice as he spoke to the colt.

You're here to see how this works out. This. Be
tween us.
Those words he'd said to her. Tender words that were so hard to believe. But they were true. There was something unexpected and remarkable between them. Something that didn't happen every day.

Gage had kissed her the way a man does when he loves a woman. He touched her and laughed with her and made her feel more cherished than she'd ever felt.

Was Gage falling in love with her? She hoped so.

Because she loved him.

 

Gage landed in the bramble bush a second time. He wanted to blame the colt, but that wouldn't be fair. It was his own darn fault. He hadn't been concentrating on his work.