yet another replacement. If Dulcie left, he couldn’t keep Beth Ann with him.
He’d had the idea of sending her to a baby-sitter’s house while he was out on the range some months ago, but when Jada found out, she’d used it to make him look like an unfit father. No, he had to keep Beth Ann here. Which meant he needed Dulcie. Which meant he was stuck with Angel whatever-she-was-going-to-be-called for the next two weeks.
“All right,” he said. “You win.” He wasn’t certain which one of the women he was addressing. “But no more secrets.”
“It wasn’t a secret.” Angel’s voice was firm and vehement. “But after seeing how worked up you are, I’d have to say you’re right. I wouldn’t have told you because I’d have figured you’d have a paranoid hang-up with my career.”
“And you’d be right.” His words were flat and unapologetic. Turning, he snatched his hat from the peg where he’d hung it and slammed out of the kitchen. As he passed through it on his way to the barn, the only refuge he had away from the house, he gave the door of the utility room a satisfying bang.
* * *
Sunlight streaming across her face woke her, making her squint and throw an arm across her eyes. Morning. Slowly Angel swam out of the depths of sleep, hating the exhausted feeling that always dogged her these days. Why had she thought it might be different, better, here? She was lucky to fall asleep before dawn. Same old story. She couldn’t sleep, and when she did, she couldn’t get awake again. Catch-22.
The clock said 9:25. She sat up, forcing herself out of lethargy. This was her third full day on the ranch and she’d hoped to help Dulcie with her chores. Sleeping in like a slothful vacationer was not what she’d had in mind. Besides, it would only confirm all the bad things Day Kincaid was convinced she embodied. Darn grumpy man anyway.
Her stomach growled loudly—past time for breakfast. Quickly she made her bed and dressed, leaving her face bare of makeup and confining her hair in a wide barrette at the back of her head. As she opened her door, her stomach growled again. Kitchen. Food. She was used to eating at the crack of dawn. She went down the steps and headed for the kitchen.
Dulcie was making cookies. As she entered the room, the delicious smell assaulted her empty stomach with an almost physical pain.
“Hi, sleepyhead.” Dulcie smiled from the counter where she was working. “I guess you want some breakfast.”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to wait on me,” Angel said as she lifted a still-warm cookie from the tray cooling atop the range. “I’ll help myself.”
As she turned to remove a brimming pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator, Beth Ann peeped around the corner of the counter, where she must have been playing at Dulcie’s feet. Two fingers were tucked into her mouth and a worried frown wrinkled her small forehead. Striking silver eyes exactly like her father’s peeped from beneath a fringe of black bang as she assessed the newcomer.
Angel was struck by the cautious quality of the child’s surveillance. It was as if she was testing the atmosphere to see if it was safe to show herself. Angel had spent much of the day yesterday playing with the little girl, and she’d thought they had gotten past the shy stage. What could make a three-year-old so wary? She decided to pretend everything was normal. As far as she was concerned, it was.
“Hello there,” she said. “Is it all right if I eat a cookie for breakfast?”
The little girl giggled, her small face losing its anxious look. “No. Cookies are for d’ssert. Cereal is for breakfast.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Dulcie intoned. “Around here, the men expect some kind of dessert with every meal. I feel like all I do is bake.”
“Why don’t you let me help? I love to bake.” Angel sat down with a piece of toast and the cookie she’d pilfered. “And please tell me what else I can do. I’ve been lounging around here like a guest in a resort hotel for the past few days.”
“You’ve been entertaining Beth Ann, which can be a job in itself.” But Dulcie threw her an assessing look. “If that was just a polite offer, you’d better tell me now. I’m desperate enough to accept any help that comes my way.” She shook her head and smiled. “I never fully appreciated everything the housekeeper did until she wasn’t here to do it anymore.”
“Well, then, let me help.” Angel looked forward to immersing herself in old-fashioned chores. Maybe while she worked, she could take a good look inside herself and figure out exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
“I can help, too,” Beth Ann announced. She gave Angel a mischievous smile. “Af’er you read me more stories.”
“Oh ho! So you like my stories, do you?” Angel patted her knee and Beth Ann immediately scampered across the floor to climb into her lap, wriggling like an enthusiastic puppy. “So what stories shall we read today?”
Later, she finished mixing the filling for the crème de menthe brownies she’d made for dinner and set it in the refrigerator. As she swept the kitchen floor and ran a bucket of water to mop it, she thought again about her future. And her past. She’d once thought that money would solve all her problems. If only it could be that easy! Even before the anonymous stalker had begun his campaign of terror, she’d been thinking of leaving the world of scripts and cameras. Building the illusions that went into a film had been consuming enough to help her through the bad time after Emmie’s adoption, but somehow it wasn’t really her.
So who was she anyway? She sighed as she saw Day riding a big black horse toward the barn. He sat the horse with a fluid grace that spoke of years in the big Western-style saddles. Despite knowing what he thought of her, she found her gaze drawn to him again and again. Yes, he was handsome, but she was used to handsome men. She knew many of them were as shallow as their physical beauty.
Then why wasn’t she able to ignore him? Any time he was in the vicinity, her antennae quivered and twitched with a fascination she was afraid could prove fatal if she didn’t keep it under strict rein. For heaven’s sake, the man didn’t even like her! As she watched, he swept off his hat and beat it against his leg, sending a swirl of dry New Mexico dust off on the light breeze. His dark hair gleamed with fiery highlights under the merciless sun, and as one of the hands called out to him, she saw his white teeth flash in a grin.
He was vibrant and full of life, a complex man who wanted to rid his ranch of her presence as soon as possible. He saw her as a flat, one-dimensional creature. Actress. To him, there was no more to her than that. After hiding from herself and her feelings for so long, she was afraid his contempt might have some merit.
“Are you cooking, Miss Ban-ban-banderbeer? Can I stir?”
Shaken from her introspection, Angel looked down. Little Beth Ann stood beside her, poised to climb onto a nearby stool but obediently waiting for permission. Angel’s heart softened in immediate pleasure.
“Of course you can help me, honey,” Angel assured her, smiling as she lifted the child onto the stool, then hugged her close for a moment. Beth Ann was warm and pliable, wrapping her arms around Angel’s neck and returning the hug.
“I’m a good stirrer,” the tot told her solemnly.
Angel stifled a smile. “I bet you’re the best. Did you just wake up from your nap?”
“Uh-huh. Aunt Dulcie said
