Half a Ranch Page 2

  "I gave her the master bedroom," Sharon explained.

  "Did you tell her about the secret passage?" Bret couldn't resist asking.

  Sharon laughed. "You know that's just an old story." She turned to Mindy. "According to the woman who Lucy bought this place from, her late husband had a secret passageway between his room and the guest bedroom. He'd visit his paramours and no one would be the wiser. I think she was just nuts."

  Mindy appeared more than a little concerned. She looked at Sharon. "Is someone staying in the guest room now?"

  "That's my room," Bret replied. He smiled at her, baring his teeth. He didn't want her too comfortable.

  "Oh. Well, you have nothing to worry about from me."

  "I'm glad to hear it." For an instant, he wondered what it would be like to call for her in the night and have her sneak in to join him. To his surprise, the thought aroused him. He told himself to banish all thoughts of Mindy from his mind. None of his priorities involved taking up with a woman of any type, let alone a woman who cared more about her aunt's money than she did a living woman.

  "Did you have a chance to talk to the foreman?" Mindy asked.

  "You have an appointment at seven," he said.

  "Thanks. You're a big help."

  He nodded, then turned to his horse. At least he could trust this animal. He certainly couldn't trust the female animal in front of him.

  Bret walked his horse toward the stable, speaking comforting little nonsense words.

  "Food's getting cold," Sharon shouted at him. "You and the boys'd better get to eating."

  "We'll be there."

  ****

  Sharon handled the introductions, naming names so quickly that Mindy knew she'd have to ask again. From the number of hands, she guessed that they must bunk several to a room for all of them to squeeze into the ranch house. No wonder Sharon had looked unhappy when Mindy had asked for a different room.

  Dinner was a noisy affair. Mindy realized that the cowboys were showing off for her, trying to catch her attention. As she'd suspected, Bret was just one of several handsome men who had worked for her aunt. But which, she wondered, had been the gigolo? Surely her aunt hadn't spread her affections among the entire group. While Lucy had always adopted modern views, Mindy didn't want to believe she was that modern.

  Bret, Mindy noticed, barely participated in the conversation from his aerie at the head of the table. His eyes seemed to see everything, looking through her with a hot gaze. She felt as if she had his full attention, but the men seemed to have similar feelings. If they were trying to get her to notice them, they seemed to look for Bret's approval almost as strongly. The natural charisma of the man was incredible.

  Finally the men struggled to their feet, carried empty plates into the kitchen, then disappeared out the back door. Sharon also stood and headed for the kitchen.

  Mindy found herself alone with Bret. His maleness filled the room more than the pack of cowboys had.

  The best defense is a good offense, she reminded herself. "You said the foreman would be here at seven. It's almost nine now."

  He looked at his watch. "Yep."

  "Did you let him know that I wanted to see him as early as possible?"

  "He knows."

  "So where is he?"

  "Right here," he answered.

  "Right--" Mindy's gaze whirled around the room before coming back to him. "You mean--"

  "That would be me, ma'am."

  The way the cowboys had treated him should have given away his game. Still, how should she have known that he would get some sick pleasure out of toying with her? "How nice of you to rush right up to meet me, Mr. Sanders."

  "Call me Bret."

  She needed to keep her distance. She'd be damned if she just added herself to his list of conquests--no matter how tempting his body was. "I'll call you Mr. Sanders. Why did you choose to ignore my request?"

  He stared at her for a moment. From the twitching at the corner of his mouth, she guessed he was trying to hold back a laugh.

  "Well, Ms. Russell," he told her, "I figured your request could wait better than the cattle." He leaned his back against the kitchen wall, stuck his hands in his belt loops, and waited for her reaction.

  "And then you figured that I could wait until after dinner."

  "Actually, I assumed that you'd talk to me at dinner. I told you I lived in the guest bedroom. Did you think I had a random allergy or something that didn’t let me sleep in the bunkhouse with the guys? If so, my mistake and apologies." He looked about as contrite as a sledge hammer and she had no intention of letting him off the hook.

  "But you're right," he went on without waiting for her to accept his apology, "I wasn't about to ask the guys to sit around hungry while we had a tête-à-tête.

  "I understand you have work to do, Mr. Sanders," she told him as she slowly rose to her feet. She could feel her face flushing with anger but she managed to keep her voice under control. "Perhaps now would be a good time to fit me into your busy schedule."

  "As a matter of fact, it isn't." He sighed. "But since I don't suppose you'll go away until we talk, why don't you tell me what this is about?"

  Mindy actually clenched her fists and took half a step toward him.

  He grinned at her.

  Damn. Despite her anger, she felt her mouth get dry at his sexy smile. Wanting to wipe it off his face probably wasn’t very noble of her.

  "How very generous, Mr. Sanders. I certainly will remember your willingness to put aside your personal preferences for the benefit of others."

  He nodded "Perhaps we could continue this discussion in my office."

  He led her through a Victorian smoking room into a room that was barely more than a closet, then sat behind a large wooden desk.

  Mindy sat across from him without waiting for an invitation. "I wanted to talk with you about the condition of the ranch."

  "Is that right? Are you an expert on ranch management? Maybe you'd like to discuss the proper method of castrating bulls. I was reading an article about that yesterday."

  Mindy flushed again. Why was she letting him get to her? And why was he going out of his way to alienate her?

  "I'd be the first to admit that I don't know much about ranching," she said. "Although I spent a couple of summers here when I was a girl, all I really did was ride around on a horse and distract the cowboys. But so what? It doesn't take an expert to notice how this house's paint has faded. A buyer would suspect that the rest of the ranch is as run down as the house, even if it isn't."

  She let her voice show her doubt about that possibility.

  ****

  Bret got comfortable, leaning his chair back against the wall and putting his boots on the desk. "I hadn't heard anything about a buyer."

  "Think about it. This is a ranch. A ranch is a business. Either it makes money, or it loses money. If you give it to someone who doesn't know anything about ranching, they aren't going to make any money at it anyway." Even though she was lecturing him like he was a schoolboy, he couldn't help notice the way her body moved with her words. Pure sex appeal.

  "Thank you for the economics lesson, Ms. Russell. Perhaps tonight, after I go to bed, I can stretch my mind around your advanced concepts. In the meantime, it's a little premature to think about selling the property. Your aunt's will hasn't even been read."

  "Facts are facts, Mr. Sanders," she told him, "and they don't depend on who Aunt Lucy left the place to. I understand your concern for your position. Very possibly whoever eventually buys the property will wish to keep you on. Possibly they won't. If I were you, I'd be looking for a positive referral."

  He stretched, then linked his hands behind his neck. It hadn't taken her a long time to get to threats. "Of course, Ms. Russell. You're what, twenty-five?"

  "Twenty-seven."

  "Close enough. And in that lifetime, you've spent a total of four months on a ranch. I'm a mere child of thirty-three who has worked a ranch all of his life. A positive reference from you would make all of the difference. Yes, ma'am."

  Mindy opened her mouth to reply, closed it, opened it again, then snapped it shut. How could a woman look sexy doing that? It didn't make sense but she did.

  With as much dignity as she could collect, she stood and left his office.

  Bret watched her flounce out. As he'd anticipated, her grand exit was ruined by the lack of witnesses.

  Unfortunately, she didn't let that stop her. He heard her footsteps pause in front of Sharon's room just off the kitchen. She knocked.

  He went to the office door and watched.

  Sharon's door opened a crack. "Oh. I thought it might be him. He's getting more and more obnoxious every day," Sharon told her.

  Bret generally ignored everything Sharon said. She was a good cook and the men liked her. What she thought was her own business. He didn't especially need her reading the long list of his sins to Mindy, but if Mindy didn't hear them from her, she'd hear them from someone in town. Someone like Andresson.

  "I've never been so humiliated in my life," Mindy huffed. "He as good as told me that an ignorant child like myself has no business here."

  "He can be as hard as the west Texas plains," Sharon agreed. "What he calls his wit can be as cutting as a dust storm. That said, I guess he's a pretty good cowboy."

  "Thank you, Sharon," Bret broke in. For once, Sharon had told the truth, and even put a little poetry into it.

  "I'll be saying good night, then." Sharon slammed her door.

  Mindy turned and faced Bret. "I thought you had finished your required humiliation hours."

  "I don't suppose you'd be interested in hearing exactly how many people tell me how to run this ranch. It can get tiresome after a while."

  "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

  He thought for a moment. "I guess not. You didn't buy my last apology so I don't figure I'll make any more."

  "Good. I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

  A cat appeared from nowhere and proceeded to rub himself on his boots.

  Bret scooped up the animal before it started gnawing on his Tony Lamas. Mindy screeched in protest and threw herself at him, her fists flailing.

  It would have been awfully easy to pull her body against his. The image of holding her in his arms hit him like a lightning bolt.

  Hold her? He was crazy. Bret blinked twice, then fended her off her with one hand while he scratched the cat under its chin with the other.

  "Did I say something?" he asked her.

  "I thought you were going to hurt George," she explained, dropping her hands to her sides.

  George purred as Bret petted him.

  "Why would I hurt your cat? I'm not mad at him. Besides, I'm in the business of taking care of animals, not killing them."

  "Oh." She didn't seem to be any better at apologies than he was. "Did you work for my aunt for long?"

  "Ten years," he finally answered.

  "Ten years. You must have started right after I was here last."

  "I started the last summer you were here."

  "I don't remember you."

  "You were busy and I didn't get promoted to foreman until after you'd left."

  He remembered her, though. She had flirted with all the cowboys and caused three fights during her first week there. Until he'd knocked a few heads together and told everyone to lay off. That had been a big part of the reason Lucy had promoted him to foreman. Who would have thought that skinny little thing would develop such attractive curves?

  "Did I do anything that summer to make you angry with me?"

  The question caught Bret by surprise. "Other than being a teenager with more hormones than sense, no."

  "Oh. Well, I wish that I could have spent more time with Aunt Lucy."

  "I'm sure." Lucy had been so alone for so long. Only now that she was safely dead did anyone in her family seem willing to accept her.

  "No. Really. I wanted to come here. When my parents found out that she was living with some gigolo, they said I couldn't."

  "Sorry. Of course. It's only been nine years since you turned eighteen so you couldn’t violate your parents’ orders. Besides, you couldn't rush to a decision like visiting one of your closest relatives, a woman who doesn't have any relatives but you."

  "Mr. Sanders, I'm trying to have an intelligent conversation with you. Every time I tell you something, you twist my words. I don't know if it's any of your business, but I tried to visit Lucy a few years ago. I called her and asked her when I should come. She told me not to bother. I wish I'd come anyway." Her voice cracked ever so slightly.

  "I see." What an actress.

  "I'm curious, though, Mr. Sanders. Is her boyfriend one of the cowboys I met tonight?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I've been hearing about her gigolo and I’ve never actually met one. I don't know exactly how to deal with that kind of person."

  Bret turned and started toward his room. When he got to his door he turned. "For your information, Ms. Russell, I am the gigolo you’ve heard so much about."

  Chapter 2

  A shrill clanging rang through the house and startled Mindy from a sleep that had been anything but restful. Bret had pursued her through her dreams like an avenging fury sent by Miss Manners. Except Miss Manners would never approve of what he did when he caught her.

  The ungodly ringing was apparently a wake-up call of some kind. Mindy struggled to her feet, then struggled even harder not to think about Bret.

  After a night's sleep, however interrupted by dreams, she could forgive herself her foolish attraction toward this impossible man. He was a gigolo after all. Attracting women was his job. His hard muscled body was doubtless just part of his professional equipment. Forewarned being forearmed, Mindy planned to do better. They were her hormones, after all, and she intended to control them.

  She looked at the floor where she had tossed yesterday's skimpy outfit. Today she would dress sensibly in something that wouldn't make her so conscious of the way Bret's gaze traveled over her body like an angry caress.

  At the bottom of her duffel bag she found an old pair of jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt. With a minimizing jog bra, she hoped to deflect his attentions, or at least prove to herself that his interest was strictly professional. Once she got her own darned chemistry under control, she should have no problems taking care of the rest of the situation.

  From what she had learned in a college psychology course, gigolos tend to be men with above average attractiveness but below average intelligence. She should be able to wrap Bret Sanders around her finger before he knew what happened.

  A wolf whistle greeted her as she stepped into the dining room. Obviously she'd have to dress down a lot in this woman-forsaken land.

  Bret's quick frown silenced the appreciative sound, plunging the room into silence. About ten hands, including a couple she hadn't seen the previous evening, sat around the table stuffing food into their faces as if they might never eat again. They ranged in age from their late teens to late fifties but shared a universal ravenous look in their eyes. Huge mounds of biscuits sat on either end of the long table, a large bowl of grits forming the centerpiece.

  With the exception of Bret, all of the cowboys seemed to be making an effort not to stare at her. Bret didn't appear to have any problems ignoring her at all.

  "Sit here at the end," Sharon said. "I'll bring you some eggs and sausage."

  "Do you have anything else? Maybe some fresh fruit? I try to watch my fat grams."

  A disgusted look on Bret's face told her he'd probably never heard of fat grams. Not that he needed to worry about them.

  "Fresh fruit? I don't think so," Sharon answered. "I'll see what I can find." She headed for the pantry, leaving Mindy alone with the ten cowboys.

  "Don't stop talking on my account," Mindy said.

  "Thank you, your highness," Bret fired back. He turned his attention back to the men, apparently dismissing her. "I think we've covered everything. Does anyone have any questions before you get started?"

  Perhaps amazed that Bret had put together a full sentence complete with multi-syllable words, the cowboys shook their heads without speaking. A few cowboys stuffed what was left of breakfast between biscuit halves, making impromptu sandwiches. Mindy sensed that their attention had shifted from their food to the door.

  "I'm sorry. I don't remember all of your names from last night. Would you mind introducing me again?" she asked. Time to take control of the situation.

  "Absolutely." Bret didn't bother disguising his sarcastic enthusiasm. "Mindy, these are the boys. Hector, Frank, Johnny, Ernie, Smitty, Manual, Marvin, Joseph, and Sam. Bert and Rob are up north. Boys, Mindy hopes to sell this place right away."

  His introduction wiped away any hint of friendly smiles. A couple of the older cowboys mumbled a "Howdy, ma'am," and the room emptied.

  Empty except for herself and Bret. Again.

  He took one step toward her and suddenly the room felt far too crowded.

  "Thank you ever so for that wonderful introduction," she said, trying to glare with her voice as well as her eyes. "I guess it's important for you to sabotage my relationship with the hands. You wouldn't want them making up their own minds."

  "Sabotage? Tell me which part I got wrong. You are Lucy's niece, aren't you?"

  "Of course."

  "And all you talked about yesterday was selling this place, right?"

  "That isn't all I talked about."

  "Oh, of course. You also talked about gigolos. I could have shared that with the boys as well. That would have definitely warmed your welcome."

  "That isn't what I meant."

  "I'll tell you what, Ms. Russell. Next time I'll let you write your own introduction like a speaker at a fancy lunch."

  How had she lost control of the conversation so quickly? She decided that an attack was better than defense.

  "Interesting that you managed to assign work for all of the men, yet you have time to spend insulting me."

  He gave her a tight smile. "I try to stay interesting, Ms. Russell."

  "You win. I'd appreciate it if you would please drop the formality. My name is Mindy."

  "I am well aware of that, Ms. Russell. Are you interested in why I stayed here?"