could handle at the time. Now I see I should have spoken up sooner, but I’ve had my eyes on you, Bailey Dixon. I have for a long time.”
Bailey gasped. “Are you telling me this because you think Michael was upset that you were with me tonight? If this is some more rivalry stuff, I can tell you right now I’m not going to be caught in the middle!”
“No.” He took her chin between his fingers, shaking his head. “I told you, I don’t care about my father’s and Michael’s father’s antagonizing. I can’t stand to see you worrying when I could make your life so much easier.”
“I don’t love you, Gunner,” she said unhappily.
“I know that.” His lips thinned. “The girls always go for him. Women seem to like a man who presents a challenge. I’d not be much of a challenge for you, Bailey. And I would treat you like the ground you walked on was sacred.”
Her breath caught. She moved away from the fingers that held her chin so gently. “Gunner, I don’t know what to say.”
He nodded. “I figured as much. I’ll give you time to work out your situation with Michael. I gotta tell you, I don’t think he’s going to marry you.”
“I know.” She could feel the pink of mortification rising in her cheeks.
“Well, I’ve made my best offer.” He slapped his gloves against his jeans and pulled them on. “It’d be better for your baby to be with its real father, I know that. And I’d honestly like for you to take on my employment offer, because the truth is there aren’t a whole lot of people I’d trust with knowing the specifics of my finances. If it comes to be that you can’t get that stubborn old goat to go the way you need him, you let me know. Until then, our relationship remains strictly business.”
“Thanks, Gunner.” Bailey could feel her hands trembling from her astonishment. Never had she imagined Gunner felt this way! “I really appreciate that.”
“All right, then. If you want the job, start Monday. I’ll leave instructions as to what I need organized and what billings I want you to set up on a payment schedule. Your assistance will be greatly appreciated, I can assure you.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to finish.
“I’ll be out on the ranch, Bailey, while you’re working. I rarely have reason to come back to the house before lunch.” He tipped his hat to her. “Be seeing you.”
“Goodbye,” she murmured through stiff lips. She saw him to the door, managing a frozen smile as she closed the door behind him.
Then she put her head in her hands and told herself she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Not over Michael Wade.
The doorbell rang. Bailey stiffened, wondering if Gunner might have quickly decided to snatch back one or both of his offers. She pulled the door open again, looking out cautiously.
Chili Haskins stood on her porch, his white, bushy mustache like icicles above his lips. “Howdy, Bailey.”
“Hello, Chili.” She glanced behind him, but Michael was nowhere to be seen. “What can I do for you?”
“We—uh, I was wondering if you could come over to the Walking W for a minute. Fred Peters has got hisself in an embarrassing predicament, and the boss is, uh, busy, so we wondered, I mean, we hoped, well, with all these tykes running around, we figured you’re the one who has the savvy to help us out.”
She blinked, uncertain as to whether she wanted to step foot on the Walking W if the boss was busy with Deenie Day.
“Please, Miz Bailey,” Chili prompted, “we sure could use your assistance, sooner than later!”
Chapter Three
The only way Deenie managed to get a forkful of pie into Michael’s mouth was that his jaw dropped when Bailey swished through the kitchen door behind Chili. “Bailey!” He jumped to his feet, chewing as fast as he could and swallowing guiltily. Deenie stood ready to land another forkful between his lips if he wasn’t careful. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Deenie.” Laser-blue eyes turned on Michael with cool acknowledgment. “Chili asked me to come over and take a look at Fred Peters. We didn’t mean to interrupt your…dessert.” She swept the laden fork Deenie held with a meaningful glance.
Michael wiped his mouth with a napkin as he took in Bailey’s blue dress, which was far too short and feminine to warrant wearing in this cold weather—and certainly too short to be worn in the vicinity of Gunner King. His heart froze as he imagined Gunner touching Bailey’s silky-smooth legs. “We were finished,” he said abruptly. “Why didn’t you come get me, Chili?”
“Because we knew you were busy,” Chili replied accusingly. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”
He saw the pink spots burning in Bailey’s cheeks but put it down to wind chap. “There’s nothing to interrupt. Where’s Fred?”
“In the TV room.” Chili hurried out, and after one last glance at the pie and Deenie, Bailey followed him without so much as another look at Michael. He’d been hoping the woman would come around for the better part of two weeks, and when she finally did, she acted like he was no more than a neighbor. He wondered how close Gunner was managing to get to his girl and decided it was better not to speculate.
“Excuse me,” Michael said to Deenie, hurrying after Chili. He heard her boots behind his and wished she’d taken the hint to stay put.
To his amazement, Fred lay flat on his back on the carpet, his sock-clad foot caught in an automatic putting cup.
“What in blazes are you doing, Fred?” Michael demanded.
Bailey had knelt beside the skinny cowboy and was examining where his toes disappeared inside the mechanical device. “You’re stuck good,” she told him. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much.” Fred grunted the words, but it was clear he was humiliated and in pain. “I shouldn’t have kicked the stupid golf ball into the cup. But I lost my temper. I just can’t putt like Nicklaus.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing—or seeing. “Since when did you take up golf?”
“Since we thought about retiring,” Fred said woefully. “We heard it was what a fellow did with his free time.”
Bailey lifted Fred’s foot gently, holding the cup so it wouldn’t pull on his toes. “Let’s see if we can force some of the blood back into your foot so the swelling might go down and loosen you up.”
“I have never seen anything so ridiculous in my whole life,” Deenie stated.
The three cowboys favored her with a baleful stare. She plopped into a chair and stared at the TV screen, where it was Greg Norman’s turn to putt. “Now, there’s a man who probably knows what to do with his putter,” she said to the room at large.
Bailey turned and gave Deenie her most disgusted frown. “Deenie, could you please make yourself useful and bring me some ice? Since you’re acquainted with the kitchen?”
This she
