The Nanny And The Reluctant Rancher. Barbara McCauley

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      Three

      Logan came in at five that afternoon. He was dirty, tired and more than a little tense. He and three of his men had moved half of the herd to another pasture, and one stubborn steer had broken away, leading Logan on a merry chase through a steep gully and heavy brush. He’d used every epithet in his rather extensive cow cutter’s vocabulary twice before he finally escorted the wayward animal back to its bellowing companions, but the fun and games had cost his gelding a shoe and forced Logan to ride back early.

      Closing the stall door behind him, he tossed his horse a fleck of hay, then made his way to the house.

      It was hard to admit, but Logan knew he was the only one to blame for his troubles. It had been his lack of focus on his work, not a runaway steer that had caused his problems. His mind had been on a curvy green-eyed gal from New York, a woman with long sleek legs that were made for a man to wrap around his waist. When he’d caught sight of those legs earlier as he’d helped her out of the truck, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to openly stare. He’d wanted to take her back to town right then and there. He’d wanted to take her to bed.

      But he’d done neither, of course. And he wouldn’t. He would endure a little masculine torture if it made Anna happy. The smile on his daughter’s face this afternoon when she’d seen Kat had made every uncomfortable moment worthwhile. He was determined to make it through the summer, even if it cost him a few sleepless nights and several cold showers.

      He still couldn’t believe she’d stayed in Harmony. Obviously Kat Delaney was a determined woman. While he didn’t understand it, he couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. He hadn’t taken her seriously, and his reputation with the town was smarting from his mistake. Mistakes, he corrected himself. His first one had been bringing her here in the first place.

      He caught the delicious scent of roast beef and heard laughter when he came in the service entrance off the kitchen. Normally, after a day’s work, he would clean up and take off his boots before he went to his room to shower. Today, he stopped, listening to the cheerful sounds coming from the kitchen. Quietly he went to the door and opened it a crack.

      He saw Anna first, her face and arms covered with flour, sitting at the kitchen table in a regular chair instead of her wheelchair. Bottom lip between her teeth, she methodically worked a large ball of dough. Bowls and measuring cups surrounded her, as did shortening, salt and an assortment of other baking supplies. It looked as if a bag of flour had exploded.

      “Knead about ten times—” Logan heard Kat say “—biscuit dough should feel light and soft, but not sticky...”

      Logan turned his attention to Kat and his stomach went into a skid. Dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a white T-shirt, she stood at the kitchen sink, reading from a cookbook while she peeled potatoes. The strings of an apron lay in a neat bow on her flour-dusted backside. His throat felt as dry as the flour as he stared at her well-rounded derriere and long legs encased in tight denim.

      “Seven...eight...” he heard his daughter slowly counting as she kneaded the dough.

      They were cooking together, he realized in amazement. To the best of his knowledge, Anna had never done anything more in the kitchen than help Sophia set the table. And here she was with Kat—making biscuits?

      A feeling he couldn’t identify tightened Logan’s chest as he watched Anna and Kat. There was a brightness in Anna’s eyes, a pinkness in her cheeks that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It had never dawned on him that helping in the kitchen might be something she would enjoy. Obviously it had never dawned on anyone else, either. He made a mental note to discuss it with Mrs. Lacey when she came back.

      “Is this good?” Anna asked.

      Still unobserved, Logan watched Kat set down the potato she’d been peeling, wipe her hands on her apron, then pick up the cookbook and walk over to Anna.

      Kat poked at the dough. “You tell me. You’re the expert biscuit maker.”

      “But I’ve never cooked anything before,” Anna said, her brow furrowed.

      “Me, either.” Kat blew a long strand of hair from her forehead, then reached for a rolling pin on the table and handed it to Anna. “That’s how we learn new things. We just do it. Now roll.”

      Kat had never cooked before? Confused, Logan watched as she read to Anna and the two of them discussed the recipe instructions. She didn’t know how to cook, he realized. But then, why did she agree to cook for him? Of course, now that he thought about it, he’d never given her a chance to say no. He’d assumed she knew how. After all, even people in New York had to eat.

      But then, hadn’t he learned by now that any assumption regarding a woman was bound to get a man into trouble?

      So she didn’t know how to cook. She was here to teach Anna, that was most important. As long as the woman focused on educating his daughter, he’d put up with indigestion for a few weeks.

      And cold showers, he thought when Kat set the cookbook down and rubbed her fists against the small of her back. He had to force back a groan as her full breasts pressed tightly against her T-shirt.

      It was going to be a long, painful summer.

      With a sigh, he quietly СКАЧАТЬ