practically shrieked his name in delight. “That’s just what I was going to say—I’d call the Double C and find out if Grady could help you. I just heard he was back. Grady’s the handiest guy in the world.”
Tara lowered her voice. “You mean I should hire him?”
“Is a bluebird blue?” Lynn laughed. “Grady can do anything. Your problems are solved.”
Tara gripped the receiver more tightly. “He’s—trustworthy?”
“Absolutely. He’s held down some very responsible jobs. My aunt Maggie used to keep us filled in on what he was up to. He’s a fascinating guy. He’s just got itchy feet.”
Tara repeated it mechanically. “Itchy feet.”
“It’s his only real flaw. He won’t stay put for long. But while he’s here, grab him and cherish him.”
Tara dropped her voice to a whisper. “If he’s so great, why’s he have to knock on a stranger’s door, asking for a job? Nobody sent him, right?”
“He probably heard you’d just moved and figured there’d be work. And he’s also probably too proud to ask his father for favors. Big Bret’s a good man, but with his sons, he’s—demanding. Bret’s very structured. And Grady, well, Grady’s a free spirit.”
“How long do you think the free spirit will stick around?”
“Who knows? This mess about his truck may take time to straighten out. Tell him to give me a call. Grady—I can’t believe it. And tomorrow Lang comes. They’re all going to be at the Double C.”
As Tara hung up, her heart beat hard and her palms were moist. She wiped her free hand on the thigh of her jeans and went back to the door.
Grady McKinney stood staring up at the sky. When he heard her approach, he turned to her. “You talked to Lynn?”
Tara had control of herself again. She was not a woman easily addled, but she was confounded by her own reaction to this man. It was just that he was so unexpected, she told herself.
Careful to keep Lono inside, she opened the door and stepped out on the raw boards of the porch. She was disconcerted by the gleam of sexual appreciation she saw in his eyes. He was attractive, sure of himself—perhaps too sure—and probably used to conquest. If he thought she was susceptible, she’d knock that idea out of his head fast.
She gave him a cool look of assessment. She held out her hand with a no-nonsense gesture. “I’ll see those references.”
He gave her the envelope, then stood, his hands resting on his hips, watching her skim the letters. “I hope you’ll find that my papers are in order,” he said. She didn’t miss the sarcasm, and it needled her.
But he had almost a dozen letters. One from the Parker Ranch in Hawaii, two from yacht captains, others from a startling array of people: a building contractor, a horse rancher, a security specialist, a stock manager.
“You don’t seem to stay in one place long,” she said, an edge in her voice.
“As long as I stay, I work hard,” he answered.
She thought of Del’s room and the walls that put him at the mercy of his nightmares. “Can you paint?”
“I worked for a painter in Sacramento. Yeah. I can paint.”
She thought of the fencing supplies lying in the mountain pasture up the slope. Lynn had had them delivered and waiting. But Fat Joe Wilder, the man hired to put them up, was a no-show. “Can you put up fencing? Temporary horse fencing? Set up portable stalls?”
“Done it many a time,” Grady said. “No problem.”
“I’ve got a lot of restoring to do on this house. Can you mend roofing? Do cement work?”
“All that and more.”
“And how long could I count on you being here?”
This was the first question that seemed to throw him. A shadow passed over the confident face. “I could promise you a month or two, I reckon. By then I hope to be on my way.”
A month or two, she thought. A hardworking man could get a lot done in that time. She took a deep breath. “When could you start?”
“Right now, if you want. You won’t regret it, I promise you that.”
Your problems are solved, Lynn had said. Tara thought hard, conflict still roiling deep within her.
But the prospect of a man who was strong and skilled was too tempting. She kept her voice brusque, almost cold. “All right. You’re hired. Today I want you to paint my son’s room.”
He nodded. “You got the paint?”
“No,” she said in the same tone. “I need to go into town and get it. Go home and change clothes. You’re going to get dirty before the day is over.”
He touched the brim of his hat in salute. The gleam came back into his eyes. “I’ve never been afraid to get dirty, missy.”
She stiffened involuntarily. Was he being suggestive? She’d put him in his place double quick. “Call me Mrs. Hastings. Be back in an hour. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be here,” he said. “At your service—Mrs. Hastings.”
He sauntered back to his borrowed truck. He climbed in, backed up and touched his hat again in farewell. As he drove off, she thought, I hope I haven’t just made a really, really stupid mistake.
THE WOMAN WASN’T WHAT HE’D expected, Grady thought, driving back to the Double C.
She was from California, so he’d figured blond. Her brother was rich, so he’d figured, she’d be thin as a bean sprout, with diamonds rattling around her bony wrists. He’d thought she’d look brittle and expensive. It wouldn’t matter if nature had made her pretty or not; money would make her seem so. She would be as rigorously groomed as a prize poodle.
Wrong on all counts. Her hair was russet, not blond, pulled back from her face, and she wore no makeup. It was as if she didn’t want people to notice she had beautiful hair, a beautiful face.
At first glance, she’d seemed plain. At second glance, she had a kind of simple, almost elegant prettiness. And at third glance, she was stunning.
Best, she was stunning without trying. Her freckled skin was so perfect it was like delicately flecked silk. The mouth was full and well-shaped and innocent of lipstick. The nose was straight, the eyes a peculiar cloudy gray with darker gray around the irises. She’d been dressed in jeans, riding boots and a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
At first, she’d seemed bewildered to see him. And then he’d been sure he’d glimpsed a spark of sexual interest in those smoky eyes. Hey, from a woman like that a man would gladly accept a sensual invitation.
But she’d canceled it. If he’d caught her off guard, she’d jerked back on guard with a vengeance. At first, a charge of eroticism had leaped between them. But she’d made
