Lone Tree Read online

  “Thank you,” she said formally. This trip wasn’t a good idea. She shouldn’t be here.

  When Miles again averted his gaze to the patio, Lainie hoped he was ready to dismiss her. The sooner she got out of here, the better. But as she watched him a speech formed in her mind: Her name was Elizabeth Auburn Johnson, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a portrait of her hanging above the fireplace over there.

  She wished she had the courage to say it aloud, but feared she didn’t have the emotional strength right now to withstand the storm that declaration would undoubtedly evoke. This man and her mother had made their break a long time ago, and it was probably best it remain that way.

  Intending to end the interview herself, she made a move to rise. But he turned back, beating her to the punch.

  “I like what I see in you, Miss Johnson. You’re recovering from a painful loss, but you’ve got poise and a sureness I admire, and you’re not afraid to take a chance. May I call you Lainie?”

  She sat back. “Yes...of course.”

  “And my name is Miles.” He looked beyond her, indicating with a nod the smaller desk at the opposite end of the room. “That’s where you’ll be working. As the ad indicated—” He looked back at her. “Is something wrong?”

  “That’s where...I’ll be working?”

  “Yes, the job is yours. Unless you’ve changed your mind.” He paused. “You do want the job, don’t you, Lainie?”

  “Yes, I do,” she heard herself say, and realized that was true. She felt as if she were at the end of a pendulum, swinging to and fro with no control. She’d traveled fifteen hundred miles to meet this man, backed off when her emotions got the best of her, and now she was swinging back the other way and actually considering working for him. “But I didn’t think I had a chance.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, yours was the most interesting response I got to that ad. And I like what I see. Now, do you need time to think about it, or shall we get down to particulars?” He looked at ease, even amused. His eyes had a greenish-brown cast, similar to Elizabeth’s, but lighter in color.

  “No, I don’t need to think about it,” she said, throwing caution aside. Which she’d already done when she’d turned south on Highway Five in the first place. “We can talk particulars.” She couldn’t help smiling at the phrase she’d so often heard her mother use.

  “Good.” Leaning back in his chair, he formed a steeple with his fingers. His manner seemed easy, yet his eyes were alert and focused. Southern-gentleman friendly on the outside and shrewd inside. She warned herself not to underestimate him.

  “You can choose your own days and time frame,” he said, “except for Sundays. I’m not particularly a religious man, but if the Good Lord saw fit to take Sunday off, then so will I and the people who work for me.”

  She nodded, then quickly nodded again when he got to salary and benefits. He was more than fair, especially considering room and board were part of the deal. “Rosalie’s got a set of rooms in the big house, and we can do the same for you. She’s my housekeeper and cook. She just showed you in here. A guest house is also available if you want it.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate having my own space.”

  “Do you ride?”

  “Horseback? Well, I’ve ridden a few times, but I’m not an expert.”

  “You’re also welcome to use the stables, if you’ve a mind to.”

  He went on, describing the job and promising to set up meetings with the people she’d be working with. When he finally paused, she was grateful for the chance to collect herself. Her head swirled with information, and even more so with the thought of the huge change in her life to which she’d just committed.

  “Time for a break.” His face smoothed out as he settled back in his chair. “Last time I was in the kitchen, I spied a coconut cake that made my mouth water. Want to try a piece with me?”

  “Thank you. I’m not hungry, but I’d love a cold drink.” She opted for something she was positive was in the refrigerator. “Iced tea would be good. With sugar, please.”

  He used his desk intercom to order coffee for himself, sweet tea for Lainie. “And a couple slabs of that coconut cake, Rosalie.”

  Replacing the phone receiver, he grinned. “Ordered two anyway ’cause we’re only going to get one. Young Doc Talbot cut back on my desserts. Got these new-fangled notions about blood pressure and nutrition. And Rosalie, bless her heart, paid attention. She’ll substitute a couple fat-free cookies for me, but what I want is that cake.”

  He paused, lost the smile, and glanced back at the intercom. “No, I don’t want the cake. Or the coffee. What I really want is whiskey and branch water, but he also severely limited that.” When he looked up, the grin returned. “But don’t tell him so. He doesn’t know all he did was cut it back. He thought he cut it out.”

  Lainie wasn’t surprised Miles resisted limits being placed upon him, and was impressed he’d compromised on the issue instead of ignoring it. She’d also noted the respect he harbored for Rosalie. He might find ways to work around her, but wouldn’t outright buck her.

  An instant after she heard a rap on the hall door, it opened. Rosalie entered without being bidden, bearing a tray laden with coffee, iced tea, a plate of cookies and one with a generous slice of cake on it. She wore her dark hair smoothed back and pinned up, and as she crossed the room, Lainie sensed a regal bearing in her that would brook no nonsense, not from Miles or anyone else.

  The housekeeper had barely closed the door behind her when Lainie impulsively reached for the plate of cake at the same moment Miles did. Because of his surprise, she got it.

  “Thank you,” she said graciously. “I hadn’t realized I wanted this, but it looks good.” She forked a piece and brought it to her mouth, more curious than concerned about how he’d react.

  He sat back and watched her for a long moment. “So you don’t appreciate being used as my means to an end.” His voice and face held little expression, but she thought she caught a note of admiration.

  “Not very much,” she agreed, and ate more cake. He was the employer, she the employee, and she’d bested him before she’d even started the job. She was amazed at her own nerve.

  He nodded soberly. “Score one for the California girl.”

  She broke into a laugh and choked on the cake.

  Once the interview concluded, Lainie stood, looked casually at the fireplace and the portraits, then walked over. One was of her mother, as she’d guessed.

  Elizabeth had been twenty when Lainie was born, so must’ve been in her late teens when this portrait was painted. Her hazel eyes were full of life, and her golden-brown hair flowed in waves to her shoulders. She was a striking picture of youth and vitality. Before the years of stress and strain and the ravages of disease had taken their toll, her mother had been a lovely woman. Lainie swallowed, working to make her face impassive.

  Needing respite, she moved on to the portrait next to her mother’s, and sucked in a breath in surprise. Lainie’s resemblance to her mother was vague at best, but her resemblance to the person depicted in the other portrait was stronger. Her grandmother’s eyes were a rich chocolate-brown, the same color as Lainie’s, and there were also facial features that Lainie saw in her mirror: heart-shaped face, slender nose, full lips. Fortunately, however, her grandmother’s hair was longer, darker, and curlier. And her demure expression was also very unlike Lainie’s.

  Miles stood behind her. Figuring this was the moment she was either going to make it or lose it, she turned to look at him. “Are they your family?”

  He took a moment before answering, his gaze resting on Lainie, then he looked up at the portrait of her maternal grandmother. He said softly, “Yes, that was my wife, Alice Ann.” His gaze traveled to the next portrait. “And that was our daughter, Elizabeth Ann.”

  But my name isn’t Lainie Ann. When she realized how irrelevant that thought was, she also realized how close she was to losing her composure. She reminded herself she knew
of the blood relationship and would pick up on the resemblance. If Miles noticed it, he’d surely pass it off as coincidence.

  She’d also caught his use of the past tense when speaking of Elizabeth, but he couldn’t know how correct he was. Undoubtedly his daughter had been lost to him when she’d fled the ranch and the state and him. Long before Lainie was born.

  Chapter Two

  When Lainie exited the air-conditioned house onto the porch, she felt like she’d stepped into an oven.

  As Miles pulled the door closed behind him, a truck drove up and braked, creating its own little dust storm. The vehicle’s engine sounded smooth before it was cut off, but that was the only smooth thing about it. The faded-red pickup had seen some hard terrain.

  “Now there’s timing for you,” Miles said. “One meeting I don’t have to set up. You can meet my foreman now.”

  The driver’s left arm rested in the open window while the other arm lay draped over the steering wheel. He stared at Miles and Lainie, taking his time. He appeared relaxed to the point of lazy and looked very sure of himself. She stared right back. Texas wasn’t too big for coincidences after all.

  He opened the door of the pickup and stepped down from the cab, then reached back inside for his hat that rested on the passenger seat. His jeans weren’t quite as faded as those he’d worn yesterday, and he’d exchanged the maroon and gray shirt for a forest-green plaid. He dusted the hat against the side of his leg as he walked toward them.

  Lainie hoped her thoughts weren’t mirrored in her eyes, because his gait was as sexy as the rest of him. She tried to pinpoint what it was that gave him that look, but it seemed to be the whole of him. He was about five-ten and lean, likely weighing around one-fifty, had a long waist and appeared wiry. Along with his dark-olive complexion, she now noted high cheekbones and a slight almond shape to his eyes that made her wonder if he had Indian ancestry. If so, it would have to be a long way back in his family tree. Those eyes were the color of the sky on a sunny day.

  “Lainie Johnson, meet Reed Smith,” Miles said, and Lainie glanced at him in amused surprise. Johnson and Smith? Could there be two names more commonplace than those?

  She returned her attention to the cowboy and extended her hand. “Well, hello again.”

  At her words, Miles’s gaze darted to her.

  “Lainie,” Reed drawled. “Now that’s a right pretty name.” Transferring his hat to his left hand, he took hers in his right and gave it a gentle squeeze—closer to a caress than a handshake. He was also weighing, sizing and measuring her, but unlike Miles’s earlier impersonal appraisal, this one had a definite sexual element to it.

  He bowed his head, gave her back her hand, and put his hat on. “Looks like we were headed to the same place after all.”

  Miles asked, “You’ve met?”

  “We shared lunch yesterday,” she explained. “On my way to Lawary.”

  “Dinner,” Reed corrected.

  She smiled, caught again in the same mistake. “Okay.”

  His gaze hadn’t left her. She guessed he’d been aware of her appraisal, but it clearly hadn’t bothered him because he’d been doing some appraising of his own. She doubted he could pinpoint her weight at a hundred and fourteen pounds and her height at a quarter-inch over five-six, but considering the onceover he’d given her, he could probably come close. She’d been a frosted blonde for so long she no longer knew the natural color of her hair, and she wore it short and full with a fringe of bangs.

  “Lainie’s agreed to be my secretary,” Miles said.

  Reed’s gaze traveled down the length of her one more time to settle on her feet.

  Her feet? She sneaked a look at her size-seven appendages encased in frost-white sandals.

  “You plan on sticking around here,” he said, “you’ll need some decent footwear. What you’re wearing now may be pretty but won’t protect you from snakebite.”

  Snakebite? Lainie’s body grew rigid. She scanned the ground.

  Miles nodded in agreement. “Yep, you’ll need a good pair of boots, and some covering for your head. This sun can be brutal. Rosalie will tell you the best place to shop. Tell the sales clerk to charge it to me.”

  Having ascertained there wasn’t a snake lurking nearby, Lainie studied Miles for an instant before responding. “Thanks, but I can manage boots and a hat.”

  He gave her much the same look, then shrugged. “You need anything you can’t manage, we can settle up out of your pay.”

  So he hadn’t intended a handout. But she still wondered if his offer had been a test of some kind. She nodded, allowing the issue to drop.

  “Meanwhile,” Miles continued, “you should be safe enough around the house. Snakes don’t generally frequent places inhabited by people.”

  “But that’s not guaranteed,” Reed cut in, and Lainie’s gaze again darted to the ground.

  “Reckon it’s safe enough to show you your quarters,” Miles resumed, “and...”

  Though she was preoccupied with thoughts of slithering creatures, her peripheral vision had caught the quick look that went from Reed to Miles before the older man’s voice trailed away. Silent communication had clearly passed between them, and when she looked up, the foreman’s eyes met hers.

  “As it happens,” he said, “I’ve got some free time right about now, and it’d be my pleasure to show you around.”

  So he wasn’t yet ready to tip his hat in goodbye. Miles looked at Lainie for approval before nodding to Reed, and it was then he who tipped his hat. “It has been a pleasure, Miss Lainie Johnson, and I’m looking forward to working with you.” Then he added, his glance including Reed, “And I couldn’t be leaving you in better hands.”

  She watched him stride away, thinking he wouldn’t be a simple man to get a handle on. Astute, on the arrogant side, used to having things his own way, likable yet complex. But she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. Whether it was because of herself, her mother, or something about Miles, she wasn’t sure.

  She glanced back at Reed. It seemed a longer way to look up than it should be. She figured he’d top her by no more than three or four inches without the added height of the heeled boots. In their stocking feet, they’d probably be—

  Mentally Lainie jerked herself to a stop. Where had that thought come from, and just where did it think it was going? She glanced away, got her bearings.

  “So,” she said, looking back with a smile.

  “So,” he echoed with a smile of his own.

  Since he wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, she shrugged and looked around. They stood in front of the main house, still in the shade of the porch, with guest cottages on both sides and she had no idea which one was hers.

  “Which way?” she asked.

  His gaze remained fixed on her for another long moment, and Lainie’s suspicion that there was a lot of cockiness in this cowboy was growing stronger by the second. Then he looked beyond her to the left of the main house.

  “That way. I take it you wanted the guesthouse or you wouldn’t be out here. My place is over there.” He indicated the larger cottage at the other end. “Bunkhouse is behind mine. Can’t see it from here. Once you get some decent footwear, I’ll walk you over, show you the holding pens, barn. Can tour the stables, too. That’s it right there, and behind it there’s a shed where you can park your car.”

  “Cars and horses. You need both?”

  “Well.” A smile warmed his eyes as he pursed his lips. “We need trucks and horses, but your car will fit in there too.” Then he added, “And we need dogs. Not possible to run cattle without ’em. We got a couple cataloulas. Excellent cow dogs, can run all day. Black-mouth curs are good, too.”

  Reed started toward the house he’d indicated as hers, and she fell in step. He gave her a sideways glance. “Other items of clothing that should be on your shopping list are cotton shirts, lightweight and long-sleeved. Need to protect all of you from the sun.”

  Her skin prickled as she felt his gaze on h
er bare shoulders and arms. It seemed like it actually touched her.

  “And some good sturdy jeans,” he added.

  “That one’s easy.” She slipped her hands into the side pockets of her skirt. “Already got some of those.”

  “Bet you look good in ’em, too.”

  The flip remark reminded her of how well he filled out his jeans, and once more her libido was stirred. Deciding that the best response in this case was no response, she kept her stare straight ahead and her mouth shut.

  “So when do you start as secretary?” he asked.

  His pace wasn’t much faster than his drawl. She wanted to get out of the sun, but suspected that hurrying in this weather would be even hotter.

  “We settled on three weeks. That should give me time to settle things at home and get back out here.” Lone Tree would soon be her home, she realized, and then she wondered for how long. What exactly had she let herself in for?

  Reed opened the door of the cottage and stood aside for her to enter. The little house was fresh and clean, with pale yellow and different shades of blue throughout the rooms. The sitting room’s sofa, in a pastel floral print, looked cozy, as did its matching armchair, and a television sat in the corner. A square pine table and four chairs were in the kitchen, a double bed and dresser and light-oak rocker in the bedroom, and in the bedroom another door led to a bathroom with a combination shower and tub. Lainie could be comfortable here, but she felt a distinct sadness, even uneasiness, exploring the quaint house. She was a long way from home and completely on her own.

  She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and looked over at Reed, who waited patiently in the bedroom doorway. She nodded her approval and they left the house.

  “I notice you didn’t need a key,” she commented.

  “Nobody locks up out here.” He swatted something away from his face. “We’re more than thirty miles from town and nobody bothers anybody else. We’ve got keys if you want one, though. Rosalie has a stash somewhere.”

  Not needing keys was a difficult concept. Lainie wondered if she’d ever become comfortable with it.