swallowed again. Raising her chin, she forced herself to face him. “Well.” She managed a smile. “I guess I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She felt her lower lip start to tremble and glanced blindly at her watch. “Then I’d better let you go, or you’ll be late.”
To her relief, he shifted his gaze to his own wristwatch and she seized the opportunity to turn away. Although she suddenly wanted nothing more than to escape, she forced herself to stroll toward the door. Summoning up another surface smile, she glanced over her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again, John.”
He nodded, his expression impossible to read. “You, too.”
“I hope you find someone soon.”
“Sure.”
And then she was out the door and crossing the porch. She made her way to her car, her steps deliberately measured. Climbing in, she turned the key she’d left in the ignition, backed out carefully and pulled onto the ranch driveway, resisting the urge to speed.
It wasn’t until she reached the highway that she could no longer ignore the way her hands were shaking. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she pulled over and stopped the car, struggling to yank on the emergency brake as the shaking spread.
Stubbornly, she again tried to tell herself that everything was going to be all right.
Except that deep down, she no longer believed it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late. A single tear slid down her face as she wondered what she was going to do now.
Two
The pickup rattled over the cattle guard with a muted thump of its heavy-duty tires.
Slowing the vehicle as he reached the highway, John turned to the left, pulled over onto the shoulder and braked. Squinting into the sun, he looked toward the west and quickly spotted the distinctive yellow school bus still well off in the distance.
He gave a sigh of relief, glad that he wasn’t late. Rolling down his window, he switched off the pickup’s engine and settled back to wait, aware, as he felt the tension in his shoulders, that he was strung tighter than seven feet of barbwire on an eight-foot section of fence.
He knew exactly who was to blame.
Although he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to think about her, his thoughts zeroed in on Eve. You could have knocked him over with a feather when he’d pulled into the yard and seen her. After all these years, she was still as blond and beautiful as ever. Not to mention as self-assured. What was it she’d said about her job qualifications?
Oh, yeah. I think I have something unique to offer.
Well, she sure as hell was right about that. And for all he knew, she also wasn’t half bad when it came to taking care of kids.
His mouth twisted caustically. He wasn’t a man to hold a grudge but he wasn’t a fool, either. He hadn’t forgotten the way she’d acted toward him all those years ago, before she’d left for her fancy college. Slim and long-legged, with golden skin, clear gray eyes and the straightest, whitest teeth he’d ever seen, at seventeen she’d been an absolute charmer—with everyone but him.
Since there had never been anything wrong with his ego, he’d known damn well he wasn’t without a certain appeal of his own. For whatever reason—his size, the innate aloofness that gave him an air of being hard to get, the fact that he was an orphan—women had been drawn to him since his early teens.
But not the lovely Ms. Chandler. She’d taken an obvious dislike to him at first sight. There had been no sunny smiles, none of the warmth or practical jokes or wry teasing she bestowed on the rest of the hands. Instead, although always faultlessly polite, she’d treated him as if he smelled bad.
He sure as hell hadn’t appreciated her attitude. But he had needed the job, so he’d sucked it in and done his best to ignore her. He’d told himself she was nothing more than a kid. And that she was actually doing him a favor, since he’d known that Max Chandler would fire him in a second if he showed the slightest interest in her.
Still, it had rankled. And for all that he’d never let on, it hadn’t been long before he’d itched to take her down a peg and wipe that superior look off her pretty face. Making matters worse, on some level he’d known that the urge sprang not from a need for respect or revenge but because he wanted her. He’d wanted to thrust his hands in her silky blond hair and taste her smooth pink mouth. He’d wanted to feel her slim, golden body under his. He’d wanted to touch her all over and make her cry out his name.
Spoiled or not, she’d made him ache.
Which was all water under the bridge, he reminded himself now. Sure, she still looked damn good, maybe even better than before. And yeah, there was still something about her—the husky timbre of her voice, the graceful way she moved, the silky-soft look of her hair and skin—that seemed to go straight to his groin and play hell with the fit of his jeans. But as for her suggestion that she come to work for him…
John’s expression turned cynical. No matter how much he needed the help, or how appealing the thought of being Eve’s boss, he had no intention of indulging the whims of the Rocking C’s patrician princess.
She was all wrong for the job, for one thing. He needed someone who would take care of practical matters without caring if she mussed her hair. And that someone had to be warm, grounded and nurturing, not a spoiled social butterfly. What’s more, she had to be willing to stick around longer than it took for a coat of nail polish to dry.
When it came to Eve, he especially doubted her staying power. She could talk all she wanted about how she’d missed home and wanted to remain in the area, but he was sure it wouldn’t be very long before she changed her mind. After all, what could Lander offer compared to New York or London or Paris? And why would she suddenly feel the need for a job, when she’d spent the past few years as a lady of leisure?
Unless… He shifted, feeling a trace uneasy. He’d heard rumors a few months back that Max Chandler was in financial trouble. At the time, he’d been too preoccupied with the discovery that he had a daughter to pay much attention. When he had bothered to think about it, he’d just assumed the gossips must be wrong. Although rising expenses and a downward trend in the price of cattle had bankrupted a lot of spreads over the past few years, he couldn’t believe anyone as shrewd as Max would allow things to get out of hand. And yet, if he had, that might explain Eve’s surprising desire for employment.
The sound of squealing brakes interrupted his speculations. Looking up, he saw the school bus had finally arrived. As he watched, the hinged stop sign swung out and the red and yellow warning lights flashed on. With a swoosh of escaping air, the door folded back and Lissy appeared.
John’s heart squeezed as he took her in. She was barely bigger than a minute, with her skinny arms, pale little face and big blue eyes. And though her outfit was hardly stylish—he winced a little at the orange sweater, red-plaid skirt that fell to midcalf and the pink frilly socks with the white patent leather mary-janes—he didn’t care. She was his daughter, his flesh and blood. He felt a rush of emotion—love, awe, tenderness—so strong, it was almost painful.
Not that it mattered, he was quick to remind
