was so disappointed by his dismissal she could have cried. Turning away, she went to the stove and checked the timer, then took the next batch of canning jars from the water.
“Tomatoes.” Cal’s voice sounded hopeful. “Maybe you could make some spaghetti sauce with a few of those this winter.”
She nodded, unable to keep her face from lighting up. Mentally, she made another note in her “Special Things To Do For Cal” file. Forgetting anything that might make Cal McCall’s life more comfortable or enjoyable was unacceptable to her. He’d given her back so much that she could never repay him. This was her small way of letting him know she appreciated it.
She extended the same appreciation to Cal’s sister, Silver, and her husband, Deck. They’d helped her when she didn’t know anyone in the world could help her, and her small gifts of special foodstuffs, recipes and handmade clothing was her way of saying thank-you.
Although it wasn’t strictly true that she felt the same way about them as she did about Cal. No, the way she felt about Cal was unique. There might be things she couldn’t remember, would never remember, but she knew she’d never felt before the way she felt about the man who owned the ranch where she’d lived once. Certainly she’d never felt about her ex-husband as she did about Cal.
She sneaked a glance sideways at him, still standing at the sink. He hadn’t taken off his summer straw hat. He rarely did, until he was ready to take a shower in the evening after working all day, but it didn’t matter to her. His hat was such a part of him that he almost looked naked without it.
It was still terribly hot during the day, and he wore a lightweight long-sleeved shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. He’d been riding, she knew, because she could see the horse tethered just outside the yard, and a dark stain of sweat dampened the back center of the shirt from his neck down to where it vanished beneath his jeans.
His jeans. Oh, she loved the way those pants fit him. She could still remember the first time she’d noticed the way the fabric molded his tight, lean buttocks. She’d been at the ranch for three days, three days in which Cal had insisted she take her time getting to know the place and settling in. He wouldn’t even let her cook at first, until the morning of that third day when she’d gotten up earlier than he had.
She’d gone into the kitchen and made him a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy. She’d also made him a lunch to take along since he’d mentioned he’d be haying again all day. Cal had come into the kitchen just as she had finished, sniffing the air appreciatively.
She’d handed him a mug of coffee. He’d sampled it and said, “You’re hired!” Then he’d walked over to the door to get his boots, which she’d cleaned up the night before. As he bent, the denim pulled taut across the back of his strong thighs, drawing her eyes and drying her mouth in a manner that surprised and shocked her so much she’d turned away and shoveled his breakfast onto a plate.
She could almost giggle at the memory now.
She had to walk to the sink, where he was still standing, with a pitcher she filled from the sink, and as she did so, she took a moment to peer at the cut. It wasn’t such a bad one that it would need stitches, but a bandage and some antibiotic ointment certainly were in order. Quickly, she added the water to the pot that was boiling on the stove, filling the room with clouds of steam and the smell of hot tomato.
Then she went to the cupboard again as Cal dried the cut with a paper towel. Taking down the things she needed, she approached him, holding them out before her and looking at him in question.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I guess I’d better put something on it. The wire snapped and I ducked, but it caught me there on the way by.”
She shuddered. He’d been repairing fence and she winced at the thought of what a piece of barbed wire could do when it suddenly was severed from the tension between the posts.
She set down the box of bandages and tore one open, then added some of the antibiotic cream to the center before taking his hand in hers again. He extended the finger and she carefully positioned the gauze, wrapping it securely with tape and neatly trimming the ends. Her hands were trembling at the feel of his hard, callused flesh against hers. At night, her dreams were filled with those hands and the magic she imagined they could work on her body.
But those were only dreams. Standing here, holding his hand in the kitchen, was real and being close to him was sweet torture. His broad chest loomed before her, making her feel small and feminine, though she’d never been short in her entire life. Beanpole, the boys at school had called her.
She looked at him and smiled. “There,” she said. “I think you’ll live.”
Cal gazed down at her from his superior height, warmth in his gray eyes. “That’s the first joke I’ve ever heard you make,” he said. This close, she could see the black rim around the irises, the tiny flecks of black that fractured the silver throughout, the dark fringe of his lashes and the strong slash of his black brows that nearly met in the center. He smiled, holding her gaze with his. “You’ve come a long way since the day I brought you here,” he said.
She cleared her throat, embarrassed by the praise implied in the comment. “I’m starting to feel…useful again.”
He nodded, and she knew he understood what she hadn’t expressed very well. “Oh, you’re definitely useful,” he said in a teasing tone. “I don’t know how this place got by until you came along.” Before she knew it, his hands slid firmly around her shoulders and he pulled her into a close embrace.
She knew an instant of blind, black fear that threatened to engulf her, but as quickly as it enveloped her it vanished. These were Cal’s arms and this was Cal’s body, and nothing could make her fear him. As the hard length of his big frame registered, she closed her eyes and inhaled his scent—not difficult since her nose was buried in his chest. He smelled of saddle leather and horse, of hay and healthy man sweat and some other, less definable scent that was uniquely his own.
Of all the things she’d expected him to do, this wasn’t at the top of the list…she didn’t really care as long as he held her like this.
But as fast as the moment had begun, it ended. Releasing her, Cal stepped back. “Sorry if I scared you,” he said. “I appreciate the help.”
She ducked her head and nodded without looking at him, embarrassed again. Had he sensed how badly she longed for him? She would be utterly humiliated if he ever found out how she felt. To cover her awkwardness, she rushed into speech. “You didn’t scare me. You caught me by surprise for a moment, that’s all.”
Cal’s eyebrows rose. He grinned then, and her heart skipped a beat at the devilish gleam in his dark gray eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you spoke more than one sentence at a time.”
“I can talk,” she said defensively. “I just haven’t had much to say.” Her voice sounded loud to her own ears, and huskier than she remembered. The doctor had said there might be permanent damage to her vocal cords from the attempt to strangle her. She didn’t guess it mattered—she’d never been much of a singer and as long as she could communicate, it didn’t really matter how she sounded.
Cal stood perfectly still, staring at her with a strange expression on his face. When the silence stretched on, she finally said, “What?”
He shrugged and smiled at her, breaking the odd tension of the moment. “Your voice is really husky. Has it always been like that?”
“It’s
