I Cross My Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      After parking his truck next to her rented SUV, he started toward the front porch steps. She must have heard the engine, because she opened the screen door and came out. He almost didn’t recognize her.

      This morning he’d thought she might clean up pretty good and be reasonably attractive. Time to reevaluate. She’d shot way past attractive and traveled straight on to beautiful.

      Her glossy cap of dark hair curled around her ears and made him want to slide his fingers into that black silk to see if it felt as good as it looked. She probably had on makeup, but she was skilled enough for it to be invisible. That left her with a wholesome and very kissable face, big gray eyes and a sweetly rounded chin that begged to be cupped in one hand while he combed through her hair with the other. He could almost taste her lips.

      She’d traded in the damaged suit for a ruffled white sleeveless blouse and gray capris. She wore sandals that showed off lavender toenails. He could eat her up with a spoon. But he’d thought of a great idea while he was driving here, and he should tell her what it was…just as soon as he remembered. Seeing her looking so sexy and approachable had made him forget everything else.

      “You’re right on time.” She smiled, which warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a very long while.

      “I was eager to leave.” Although his brain wasn’t working very well, his gift of gab seemed functional. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Last Chance Youth Program. It just started, and the place is overrun with wild adolescent boys.”

      She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard, but what a cool idea. You don’t like kids?”

      “Sure, in small numbers. Eight of them running around the ranch is…a lot.”

      “They’ll be living there?”

      “Until the middle of August. The idea is to take boys from troubled situations and give them a couple months of ranch life. With luck they’ll leave with a work ethic and maybe even some self-esteem.”

      “I love it. If I were staying, I’d want to see if I could help.”

      Nash grimaced. “Which makes me the guy with the bad attitude who’s griping about the mayhem involved.”

      “Not at all. Not everybody’s in love with kids that age. You have a right not to be.”

      He thought about that. “No, I don’t. I’m at the Last Chance because the folks there believe in giving both people and animals one more shot at success. That’s what this program is about, too, and I’m going to adjust my thinking.”

      Taking a deep breath, he smiled at her. He’d love to compliment her on how nice she looked, but that might not be appropriate for the hired hand. “The flower pots sure spruce up the porch.”

      “Thanks!” She seemed genuinely pleased. “I thought so, too. Hungry?”

      Now there was a loaded question. “Sure am. Some-thing smells really good.” He actually meant her, because she gave off a delicate scent that reminded him of plants that flowered only in moonlight. He’d learned about those while he’d lived in California.

      But she’d think he was referring to the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and that was fine. They should keep their interaction platonic, or as close to platonic as they could manage given that they were both healthy and human. Looking at her in the soft light of early evening, he was feeling very human, indeed.

      “It’s chicken,” she said. “Not very exciting, I’m afraid. Come on in.”

      He followed close enough that he could hold the screen door for her and breathe in her night-blooming flower scent. “I don’t cook, so anything more than peanut butter and jelly is exciting to me.” He might be wise to stop talking about what excited him, since Bethany had chicken beat by a country mile.

      “Don’t look at the living room,” she said as she walked quickly through it. “I haven’t had time to do much in here.”

      “I bunk with a bunch of cowhands. You can’t shock me.” But he tried to honor her request and not notice that the room was shabby and unkempt. No liquor bottles were lying around, but the faint smell of whiskey lingered. Once you spilled liquor on carpet, the stink was hard to get out. Maybe she hadn’t needed much gasoline to light that recliner on fire, after all. He understood her fierce desire to haul it out of here.

      The living room was separated from the dining room by French doors, and when she opened them, he walked from a miserable space into a joyous one. “Wow. You’ve been working hard.”

      “You have no idea how I loved making at least one room in this house look the way it’s supposed to.”

      He surveyed the flickering candles on the table and the sideboard, the flowered centerpiece, the white linen tablecloth and what had to be her mother’s best china, silverware and stemmed glasses. A modest crystal chandelier above the table sparkled and as the sun drifted lower in the sky, its rays shone through clean windows. He’d bet she’d washed the curtains, too.

      “I can tell.” He gazed at her, touched by all the effort she’d made. “I’m honored to be your guest.”

      She flushed. “I did it as much for me as for you. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…to create a romantic setting for some reason.”

      “No, no, I’m sure you weren’t.” Damn. He hadn’t thought of that, but it would have been kind of nice if she had.

      “I mean, for all I know you have a girlfriend, and I—”

      “No girlfriend, but you’re headed off to Atlanta, where you may have a boyfriend.”

      “No boyfriend, but I am headed off to Atlanta.” She gestured toward the festive table. “This was just a whim, to make the house seem a little bit happy again.”

      “Right. I completely get that.” No boyfriend, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with him. Okay. He should be relieved, because they had no business getting involved, but from the minute she’d stepped out on that porch, he’d found himself wishing that somehow they could…what?

      He’d already had this talk with himself. It went against his moral code to get cozy with the woman who was paying him to make some quick repairs so she could sell the place. And that was when he finally remembered the idea he’d had driving in here.

      Once he remembered, he had trouble not blurting it out, but that wouldn’t be the best way to approach such an important discussion. He should lead up to the topic. She had wineglasses on the table. Although he was opposed to drinking on the job, maybe tonight he should make an exception, because this idea might go better if it was presented over a glass of wine.

      If she accepted his offer to buy the house, would that change the dynamic between them? Then he’d be a buyer, not an employee. His moral code might allow him to get cozy with the seller of the property he was purchasing. After all, why not? Because she might think that was a really bad plan, that was why not.

      “Nash? Are you okay?”

      He blinked and wondered how long he’d СКАЧАТЬ