Five
Her arms full, Merideth juggled the baby and the bulging diaper bag to one side but couldn’t quite stretch a hand far enough to reach the doorknob. Frustrated, she pressed her nose against the glass panel on the Double-Cross’s kitchen door and saw Mandy standing in front of the stove, steam billowing around her head.
With her own culinary failure so fresh on her mind, finding her sister cooking infuriated Merideth even more. She gave the door a hard bump with her knee. “Mandy! Open the door!”
Mandy spun, a smile curving her lips when she saw Merideth. She quickly switched off the flame beneath the large stew pot and hurried across the room. But when she opened the door and saw that Merideth was dressed in a pair of silk lounging pajamas, her mouth sagged open.
“Merideth!” she cried. With a frantic glance around to see if anyone had witnessed her sister’s arrival, she tugged Merideth inside the house and quickly closed the door behind her. “What are you doing running around the countryside half-dressed?” she scolded as she took Cassie from her arms. “And in your bare feet, no less!”
Ignoring Mandy’s criticism, Merideth flung the diaper bag in the direction of the table and stormed across the room. “I hate him!” she raged, running her hands through her hair.
The dramatics were pure Merideth and wasted on Mandy. She’d witnessed better displays of temper than this from her sister, but she was curious as to who had set this one off. She shifted Cassie to her hip. “Who do you hate?”
Merideth spun, her body trembling with rage. “John Lee Carter! That’s who! He is mean and hateful and I hope he chokes on his stupid ham sandwiches!”
Mandy sputtered a laugh, but Cassie, who, up until this point, had watched Merideth’s hysterics in round-eyed silence, suddenly burst into tears.
Immediately Merideth wilted, rushing to take Cassie from Mandy. She pursed her mouth sympathetically as she drew her into her arms. “There, there, darling,” she soothed, swaying gently. “Merideth didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Merideth’s mood swing from enraged woman to nurturing nanny was so quick it made Mandy dizzy just to watch. Sighing, she picked up the diaper bag and set it on the table, digging through its jumbled contents until she found a bottle of juice. She handed it to Merideth.
“Thank you,” Merideth murmured gratefully, and sank down on a kitchen chair. Shifting Cassie, to cradle her in her arms, she teased her mouth with the nipple. The crying instantly stopped as Cassie latched on to the bottle and began to suck.
The naturalness and the affection with which Merideth handled the baby didn’t escape Mandy’s notice, though she decided it wise under the circumstances not to comment on it. Instead she sank down on a chair opposite her. “Maybe you better tell me what has you so upset.”
At the reminder, Merideth lifted her gaze, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Mandy,” she sobbed miserably. “I can’t cook.”
At the unexpected confession, Mandy tossed back her head and laughed. “Well, of course you can’t. You’ve never had to.”
“It isn’t funny,” Merideth wailed. “I’m in big trouble.”
“Trouble?” Mandy repeated, sobering. “How does not being able to cook put you in trouble?”
Merideth snatched a napkin from the holder on the table and dabbed at her cheeks. “I fired John Lee’s housekeeper.”
“You didn’t!”
Merideth firmed her lips, jutting her chin defensively. “I most certainly did. The woman was insolent and lazy.”
“And John Lee expects you to take over her responsibilities ?”
Fresh tears welled up and Merideth pressed the napkin against her lips. “Yes.”
Mandy tossed up her hands. “But you don’t know how to cook!”
“I know,” Merideth wailed. “Oh, Mandy, it was horrible ! After Mrs. Baker left, I lay down, thinking I’d take a little nap while Cassie slept, then John Lee came home with all his wranglers for lunch. When I told him that Mrs. Baker was gone and that I had fired her, he dragged me out of bed and told me that since her leaving was all my fault, I had to make lunch for all those men.”
“And did you?”
Merideth pressed a knuckle beneath her nose and nodded, sniffing back the tears. “At first I didn’t know what to do, but then John Lee came in and suggested I make ham sandwiches. I was relieved, because I know how to make sandwiches. In fact, I have quite a flair for them. My housekeeper, Lilah, told me so.
“I worked really fast, too, knowing the men must be hungry. I sliced all the edges off the bread, careful not to leave so much as a trace of the brown outer crust, just like Lilah taught me, then I cut the sandwiches into clever little squares and triangles. I even scattered carrot curls around the platter for added color, which I thought was truly inspired, considering I had so little to work with. But when I put the sandwiches on the table, John Lee, he—he—” She pressed the napkin to her lips as a new wave of sobs rose, choking her.
Mandy leaned forward expectantly. “He what?”
“H-he said, ‘For God’s sake, M-Merideth. This isn’t s-some damn tea party. C-can’t you do anything right?’ ” She dropped an elbow to the table and pressed her hand over her mouth, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh, Mandy, it was terrible!” she cried. “I felt like such a fool!”
Though Mandy could imagine—and even understand—John Lee’s consternation when presented with such a skimpy and fussy lunch when what he and his men were accustomed to receiving was a hot noonday meal, her heart went out to Merideth who had tried so hard to please. She stretched a hand across the table to squeeze her sister’s arm in sympathy. “Oh, sweetheart, there are worse things in life than not being able to cook.”
Merideth jerked free of her, refusing to be comforted. “Easy for you to say. You know how to cook!” Snatching a fresh napkin from the holder, she dabbed furiously at her eyes, then blotted the drop of juice that had leaked from the comer of Cassie’s mouth. “I can’t even make sandwiches to please him and his stupid wranglers,” she moaned in despair, taking the bottle from the now sleeping Cassie. “How on earth am I supposed to cook a real meal for them?”
That Merideth would even consider attempting to cook for the men, especially after John Lee had insulted her first attempt, surprised Mandy. It would have been much more in character for her to tell them all to go straight to hell.
Could Merideth be mellowing? Mandy wondered. Or did this change have something to do with John Lee? Whatever the reason, as long as Merideth was willing to try her hand at domesticity, Mandy would do everything in her power to help her. “I’ll teach you.”
Merideth snapped up her head at the offer. “Do you think you could?” she asked, her uncertainty obvious.
Mandy rose, smiling confidently. “Honey, by the time I get through with you, John Lee’ll think Martha Stewart has moved in.”
Merideth shoved the last container of food into the freezer and slammed the door, then leaned back against it. She was tired. No, she was exhausted. But by golly she had some food in the freezer, enough to keep John Lee and those wranglers of his satisfied for a week.
Patting her pocket to make sure Mandy’s warming instructions were still there, she headed for the bedroom. She’d already put Cassie to bed for the night, and she intended to follow suit.
As she passed through the bedroom doorway, she started stripping, dropping clothes on the floor as she made her way to the bed. Too tired to worry with a nightgown, she flung back the covers and crawled between the cool satin sheets. She leaned over to push the tab on the bedside table, turning off the lights, and noticed the time. Nine-thirty. She would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so tired. Merideth McCloud in bed before midnight. This had to be a first.
With a sigh, she collapsed against the pillows and closed her eyes. She’d had no idea that cooking could be so exhausting. Her feet ached, her back ached. Even her hands ached from all the kneading. For a moment—no longer than a second, really—she actually felt a twinge of empathy for Mrs. Baker and the work required of her to cook for all those men.
She quickly shrugged it off and rolled to her side, curling into a ball and tucking her hands beneath her cheek. No, she wouldn’t feel sorry for the woman.
After all, she had called Merideth a tramp.
When John Lee stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted with darkness and an eerie silence, both of which worried him. He’d checked the garage on his way in and verified that his Porsche was once again parked in its space, a sure sign that Merideth had returned from the Double-Cross which was where he was certain she’d headed when she’d taken off in such a huff earlier that day.
Judging by the quiet, though, and the lack of light, he was beginning to wonder if maybe it was only his Porsche that had returned, that Merideth had stayed at the Double-Cross and sent someone else to deliver his car. It was a possibility, considering the snit she’d been in when she’d left.
He frowned, remembering the flash of her hurt in her eyes when he’d yelled at her, then the steely-eyed fury that had followed. Without a word to him, she’d snatched Cassie from the high chair, slammed an arm around a diaper bag propped on the kitchen counter and stormed out the back door.
He hadn’t tried to stop her. Hadn’t wanted to. His own anger wouldn’t let him. Hell! he thought defensively. She’d fired his housekeeper—the woman he depended on to feed his men and to keep his house running smoothly. He had a right to be mad at her.
But as hard as he tried to rekindle his anger, he couldn’t. It was gone. He’d burned it off with a hammer, a pound of fencing staples and a tightly coiled roll of barbed wire. His reward at the end of the day was a quarter mile of newly stretched barbed wire, a considerable drop in his blood pressure. . .and the unwanted task of trying to undo the damage that Merideth had done.
He’d gone to Mrs. Baker’s house, hat in hand, to throw himself on her mercy. He’d apologized profusely for whatever sins Merideth had committed and had begged her to return. But the woman wouldn’t budge. In fact, the way she’d carried on, he wondered at her sanity. She kept mumbling something about that tramp Charise, and John Lee had had a time trying to keep her focused on his apology. In the end, she’d told him that as long as “that woman,” as she liked to refer to Merideth, was in his house, she wasn’t setting a foot inside. Either Merideth went, or no housekeeper. That was the choice left to him.
With a sigh, John Lee tossed his hat to the counter and wearily raked his fingers through his hair. So what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t ask Merideth to leave. Didn’t want to. His purpose in inviting her into his home was to help her get over the loss of her baby and to help him with Cassie. And it was working. From the moment she’d announced that she was moving in, he’d seen a change in Merideth. She was acting more like her old self—bossy, cantankerous, full of spit and vinegar. . . and downright sexy.
He rubbed a hand across his mouth, remembering the kissing session in bed the night before and again that morning. Yeah, she was sexy all right, and about as hard to resist as a cold beer on a hot day. If only she could cook. . .
He wagged his head, remembering that ridiculous platter of sandwiches she’d made for his men, the look of hurt in her eyes when he’d yelled at her. He should have known Merideth didn’t know her way around a kitchen. Demanding that she cook for his men was a mistake that he’d regretted for the rest of the day.
Truth of the matter was, the whole dang situation could have been avoided if he’d put a stop to the bickering between the two women before it got so out of hand. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known that Mrs. Baker hated Merideth, though he hadn’t a clue why. Or that Merideth disliked her, for that matter. Neither had tried to hide their feelings from him. They were like two old billy goats going head-to-head.
Granted, Merideth hadn’t helped matters any by ordering Mrs. Baker around. But then, why had he expected anything less from Merideth? She was accustomed to getting her own way, to being the center of attention, of having everyone wait on her hand and foot. Her sisters spoiled her, her fans adored her, her peers sucked up to her, hoping to snag a part of the spotlight always directed her way. It was only natural that Merideth would rebel against someone who refused to pay her what she considered her due.
And it wasn’t as if Merideth hadn’t warned him. She’d told him up front that her sole purpose in moving in with him was to care for Cassie, that she didn’t cook, clean or do laundry, including her own.
He sighed again, knowing he was responsible for the mess he was currently mired in. He’d already offered Mrs. Baker an apology, though it hadn’t done him any good. Now he owed Merideth one. A big one. And putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier to offer. Knowing this, he headed for the swinging door, praying that he’d find her in his room. The thought of driving all the way to the Double-Cross and having to apologize to Merideth in front of her sisters didn’t set well with him at all. He’d done enough groveling for one day.
When he reached the master bedroom and saw that the lights were off, he started to turn away, thinking she had stayed at the Double-Cross, but a whisper of satin from the direction of the bed made him turn back. Squinting against the darkness, he tiptoed toward the bed and peered down. Sure enough, a cap of blond hair peeked out from between two pillows.
With a sigh of relief, he settled a hip on the edge of the mattress and leaned over. “Merideth?” he whispered. When she didn’t respond, he pulled one of the pillows away from her head. “Merideth,” he repeated more insistently.
“Hmmm?”
“Are you asleep?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “Go away.”
Biting back a grin, he plucked the other pillow from beside her head and tossed it aside. “Can’t. I’ve got something to say.”
She grabbed the sheet and pulled it over her head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Sure you do.” Wanting to see her face so that he could determine her mood and know how much bending and scraping he was going to have to do, he stretched a hand to the bedside table. He pushed a finger against a tab until the soft glow from the recessed lights chased away some of the darkness.
At the intrusion, Merideth fisted the sheet tighter over her face. “Would you please go away?”
Though there was a please in the request, her tone was anything but pleasant.
“Not until I say what I’ve come to say.” Angling a knee onto the mattress, John Lee folded his hands over his thigh and turned to look at her shrouded form, determined to get this over with. “I’m sorry, Merideth.”
He waited a beat, hoping for a response, but the only sign that she’d heard his apology was a subtle relaxing of her fingers on the sheet. Then slowly the sheet inched down, revealing first a tangle of blond hair, a smooth forehead, neatly arched brows, then eyes, a startled blue. It stopped at the bridge of her nose. “What did you say?”
“I said, I’m sorry.”
The sheet dropped another few inches, exposing the tip of her turned-up nose and that luscious mouth of hers, but stopped at her chin. “For what?”
He should have known she wouldn’t just accept his apology outright, that she’d make him crawl first. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to say it all. “I had no call to yell at you today, and I apologize if I hurt your feelings. Will you forgive me?”
She drew her arms from beneath the sheet and flattened them over it, stretching the satin across her breasts. She smiled smugly. “I’m glad that you’ve seen the error of your ways, because you’re right, your actions were totally unjustified.” She pursed her lips and tapped a manicured nail against them as she studied him thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure I’m willing to forgive you. After all, you did hurt my feelings.”
John Lee tossed up his hands in frustration. “For God’s sake! I said I’m sorry! What else can I say?”
She drew back her chin, arching a brow. “What else can you say?” she asked pointedly. “Why, nothing. But there is a lot you can do.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Merideth,” he grumbled.
“You do want my forgiveness, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
She sat up and leaned to press a finger to his lips, holding the sheet against her breasts. “No buts, John Lee,” she reminded him. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” She smiled, obviously enjoying the fact that she had him over a barrel. Scooching backwards, she propped herself against the headboard, looking a little too pleased with herself.
“There is the problem with Cassie’s nursery,” she began.
A sick feeling settled in John Lee’s stomach. He wasn’t at all sure what she was about to demand of him, because he’d already given up his den to Cassie, but he had a feeling that Merideth’s dissatisfaction with his bedroom’s decor entered into the picture somewhere, probably at the top of her list.
“As I recall,” she reminded him, “you refused to allow your men to help me paint it—”
Pressing a hand over his heart, John Lee fell over onto his side, weak with relief.
He landed on her legs, and Merideth gave his shoulder an impatient kick with her foot. “Get off of me!”
Closing his hand around her ankle to keep her from kicking him again, he looked up at her. “For a minute there, I was afraid you were going to make me take down the mirror from the ceiling.”
She immediately quit struggling, smiling slyly. “Oh, I’ve already taken care of that tacky old mirror.”
He flipped his eyes wide. “You what!” Sure that she had somehow managed to remove the mirror without his knowing it, John Lee rolled to his back and looked up. Instead of his mirror, yards and yards of a shimmering gold fabric were draped over the ceiling above him and came together in a huge rosette over the center of the bed.
Merideth sat up again, holding the sheet in place beneath her arms, and leaned over to pat his cheek. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “Your disgusting mirror is still there. I just covered it up.”
John Lee closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank goodness,” he murmured. When he opened his eyes, Merideth was still leaning over him. That she was pleased with the success of her subterfuge was obvious. He frowned at her. “You’re a brat, you know it?”
She lifted a shoulder, her smile broadening. “That’s what they tell me.”
That little shrug drew John Lee’s gaze to her shoulder and to the amount of bare skin exposed above the sheet. He wondered what, if anything, she was wearing beneath it. He traced a finger along her collarbone. “What do you have on underneath that sheet?”
She shivered at the touch of his hand against her skin. “Nothing.”
He shifted his gaze to hers, the tip of his finger stilling at the base of her throat. Beneath it he felt the quickening of her pulse. “Nothing?” he repeated.
A slow smile curved her lips. “Not a stitch.”
It wasn’t an invitation really, but John Lee figured it was close enough. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man found a woman as beautiful as Merideth McCloud naked in his bed. He’d be a fool not to take advantage.
With his gaze on hers, he let his finger drift downward over skin that was as soft and cool as the satin sheet clutched at her breasts. When he bumped against the taut edge of the sheet, he curled his finger around the fabric between her breasts. “Come here,” he commanded, his voice husky.
The graze of his knuckle against Merideth’s bare skin was like a flint striking stone, igniting the flammable trail he’d left on her chest. Heat quickly spread through her body, racing to every limb. She saw the same heat flame in John Lee’s eyes. She wanted him, she realized with a suddenness that left her breathless. More than any man she’d ever known. And unlike the last time, when he’d caught her unaware, this time she was in control and she would have him. She dipped her face lower over his, smiling seductively. “What?” she whispered.
In answer, he raised his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth. At the same time, he gave the sheet a sharp tug, ripping it from beneath her arms. She tossed back her head and covered her breasts with her hands, laughing as cool air hit her bare skin.
“Come here. I’ll warm you up.” Curling an arm around her neck, he drew her to him while with his other hand he guided her body over his.
As he promised, the heat was there to warm her. Mouth to mouth, chest to breast, thigh to thigh. That their bodies fit so perfectly together registered only fleetingly inMerideth’s mind before other impressions took over. . .the strongest being the length of maleness growing hard at the juncture of her legs. An ache grew deep inside her, and she shifted, rubbing against him, trying to ease it.
He groaned at the seductive pressure, the sound vibrating against her lips and her breasts and echoing deep inside her. Gathering her hair from her face, he brought his hands together at the nape of her neck, then drew away far enough to look at her. “That mirror sure would come in handy right now.”
The regret in his voice drew a smile. “How so?”
He tipped back his head and stared forlornly at the ceiling. “If it wasn’t covered up, I wouldn’t have to imagine how good your backside looks naked. I could see it.”
Chuckling, Merideth nipped at his chin. “Oh, poor baby.”
He shifted his gaze to hers again and sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to rely on my sense of touch.”
Even as he said it, he released her hair, letting it fall once again to curtain her face, and aligned the tips of his fingers along her spine. Roughened from years of working with his bare hands, his fingers traced the nubby length of her spine. The rasp of his fingers against her flesh was like sandpaper on silk and sent every nerve in her body quivering. She arched, throwing back her head, the ache inside her growing, tightening into a hard knot of desire.
“You like that, do you?” he murmured, watching her eyes heat as he teased the flesh in the curve of her lower back.
“Yes,” she whispered, then groaned when he slid his hands over her bottom and cupped her cheeks in his palms, pressing her hard against him. “Oh, yes,” she sighed, lowering her gaze to his. Recognizing the need in his eyes as the same that twisted inside her, she pushed her hands against his chest and sat up, straddling him. One by one she plucked his shirt’s buttons from their holes, then gave a tug, pulling the shirt’s tail from the waist of his pants. With the palms of her hands, she swept the fabric back, baring his chest to her hungry gaze.
Tanned from hours spent working beneath a Texas sun, his skin stretched taut over well-defined muscle. Dragging a finger down his chest and onto the smooth plane of his abdomen, she counted one. . .two. . .three. . .. A six-pack, she thought with a lusty sigh. And all tall-boys.
He flinched as her fingers trailed lower, and she smiled. “Ticklish?” she teased.
“Would you stop if I said yes?”
“Maybe.”
He grinned wickedly. “Then, no, I’m not ticklish.” Lifting a hand, he cupped a full breast. “Are you?”
“No.”
As if to prove her wrong, he raked a thumb over her nipple and she sucked in a breath as the sweetest sensations spun slowly downward from her breast to settle low in her abdomen like warm, thick honey. That she wanted him didn’t surprise her. That she could want him so desperately, did.
Melting against him, she pressed her lips against his. “Make love to me, John Lee,” she whispered.
“Sugar,” he murmured, “it would be my pleasure.” Rolling, he flipped her to her back, reversing their positions, and planted his hands on either side of her head to hold himself over her. Lowering his face, he warmed her lips with his breath, then covered her mouth with his. He drank deeply, greedily, probing her mouth with his tongue, teasing her, stoking the fire that blazed within her until she was writhing beneath him. She arched, reaching for him, her nipples grazing his chest, the mound of her femininity thrusting hard against his groin.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he slid his lips over her chin and down the smooth column of her throat. He cupped a breast, tipping the nipple to his mouth. He licked, sucked, soothed while he moved his hand down her abdomen, kneading her tense stomach muscles, then closed it over her mound. She bucked, arching high against the pressure, crying out his name.
In her entire life Merideth had never felt so utterly exposed, so out of control. Like a wild woman, she clawed at his shirt, ripping it from his shoulders, wanting him as naked as she. She raked her nails down his back, marking him, then dove her fingers below the waist of his jeans, desperate to rid him of them.
Every touch of her flesh against his, every frustrated whimper that escaped her lips, pushed John Lee closer and closer to the edge. What had been a simple promise to pleasure her, suddenly turned to a blinding need to possess her. He had to have her, had to feel every inch of her bare skin rubbing seductively against his, had to feel her velvet softness close around him. Balancing himself with one hand, he reached for his buckle and, with her help, quickly freed himself of his jeans.
“Merideth.” Her name was half warning, half plea as he moved over her, covering her body with his. Perspiration already slicked their skins and heat rose between them, welding their bodies together, but John Lee had to know that there would be no regrets. Filling his hands with her hair, he forced her face to his. The eyes that met his were wild, glazed with passion. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
Stretching a hand to the nightstand, John Lee withdrew a foil packet, quickly opened it, and slipped the needed protection in place.
Impatient, Meredith reached for him, drawing his face to hers. Their tongues mated, their breaths burned and the heat climbed higher. He shifted, placing a hand between them, separating the folds that hid her feminine opening, and guided himself to her. She arched at the first contact, dragging her lips from his. “Oh, please,” she begged. “Please.”
With a single thrust, he was inside her, her hot, moist, feminine walls closing around him. The pleasure was so sharp, so mind-shattering, he froze, his chest heaving. Pressing his forehead against hers, he drew in a long, shuddering breath, fighting for control, needing it to prolong this exquisite pleasure. When he was sure he’d won it, he began to move, slowly at first, setting the rhythm, then increasing the speed, the intensity, until they were racing together as one.
He could feel the tension in her building, hear her desperate cries for release at his ear. Hooking an arm behind her back, he rose to his knees, bringing her up with him, and guided her legs around his waist. With his broad hands braced at her hips, he thrust one last time, and buried himself deeply inside her, holding her against him. The explosion was simultaneous, a blast of heat and sensation that had them holding tight to each other to keep from shattering.
Trembling, John Lee fell forward, bracing a hand on the bed. He rolled to his back, holding Merideth tight against his chest, while the aftershocks of her climax continued to pulse around him.
With a sigh, she snuggled against him, burying her nose in his neck. “If I’d only known. . .”
In spite of his weakened state, he chuckled. “Sugar, I’ve been trying to tell you. You just weren’t listening.”