It was almost bedtime when Lanie remembered Reece’s T-shirt. She found her slippers under the sofa and headed outside to the remains of the pool. As usual, Winnie tagged at her heels.
Dressed only in an oversized nightshirt, Lanie hugged herself against the unseasonably cool night air and grinned when she recalled his words from earlier that day. By the time she found the pool in the dark, her slippers were soaked from puddles left by an afternoon thunderstorm.
Lanie freed Reece’s sodden garment from the hole in the pool. She wrung out the water and felt a slight tug. In the next instant, the shirt was gone.
“Winnie, you come back here!” Like a flash, the horse squeezed through a gap in the fence rails. Lanie climbed over and took off after her.
“Come back, you little—”
A light flashed on in Reece’s bedroom. The glare from the window fell in a long rectangle on the grass in front of Lanie. Though safely cloistered at the edge of darkness, she dared not move. Reece already thought of her as a dingbat. She didn’t want to explain why she was traipsing through his yard in her nightshirt at ten o’clock.
While she watched, frozen by indecision, Reece walked to the window and cupped one hand between his eyebrows and the pane. Lord Almighty! The only two things between her eyes and his endowment were a window and a small scrap of towel held up by his free hand. Lanie bit her lip and winced at the tenderness caused by her episode with Winnie earlier in the day.
Reece shifted and appeared to look directly at her. She made like a tree, hoping he was blinded by the light in his room.
He turned and walked away from the window. One thigh peeked enticingly through the gap in his towel, and Lanie’s breath caught in her throat. She quickly averted her gaze. In the next moment, the light flicked off.
Something cold and wet grazed her ankle, and Winnie’s whiskers tickled Lanie’s knee. “Gotcha!” She tried to pry the shirt from the animal’s mouth, but Winnie clamped down harder for a game of tug-of-war. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it…” She lifted the little beast and shimmied over the fence.
While Reece’s shirt soaked in the bathroom sink, Lanie tweezed splinters from the back of her thighs. That horse was getting too big to be hauled over fences. Lanie removed another sliver and winced. Her neck ached from craning to see the elusive specks. Maybe they’d eventually work their way out.
She abandoned her futile efforts and turned her attention to Reece’s shirt. If You’re Not Hungry, Thank a Farmer. She sudsed and rinsed the garment, all the while thinking of what Dot had said about Reece insisting on discounted prices for farmers. He was obviously a caring and sensitive man.
Why, then, did he want this highway splitting through the county? Surely he knew some of his farmer friends would be displaced to make way for the road.
Lanie hung the shirt over her shower rod to dry and went to the living room to find the phone book. Winnie lay curled in the recliner, watching the images on television.
“Five months old, and you’re already a couch potato.” Lanie flopped on the sofa with the thin local phone directory she had picked up at the local Dine and Drive last week. “Let’s see. County Administration Office.” She jotted down the number and flipped the pages. The state highway department and several other numbers joined her list. “Tomorrow,” she told Winnie, “we take action.”
In the morning, Lanie ironed Reece’s T-shirt, hoping to counter the effects of last night’s tug-of-war. There, she thought. That looks much fresher. She eased a pair of slacks over her splinter-punctured thighs, shoved her phone list into her purse, and rounded up Winnie.
After her pet’s initial run-in with the gray cat, the animal had behaved admirably at the store. Lanie felt certain Winnie would easily settle into the work routine. And this way, Lanie wouldn’t have to leave her at home alone.
But Winnie had other ideas. The moment the door at Masardi’s opened, the horse caught sight of the feline fluffball purring around a customer’s legs. The woman’s young son squatted on the floor to pet the cat. Winnie fired after the cat like a bullet out of a gun.
“Look out!” cried Lanie.
The woman grabbed up her child and tried to step out of the horse’s path. Winnie, taking the straightest course to her target, darted between the customer’s legs. The child giggled in glee. “Doggy! Doggy!”
Winnie rounded the corner in hot pursuit, her hooves spinning like snowbound tires. The cat, now perched atop a display shelf, watched the fun from his vantage point. Winnie ran past him and circled back around to the mother and child.
Lanie dashed to intercept her, but before she could grab the horse, a rope lariat snaked out and circled Winnie’s neck. The horse’s frantic flight abruptly halted, and she hung her head and snorted twice.
“Heh, heh. I’ve still got the touch.” Reece handed Lanie his end of the lasso, and his manner abruptly changed. “Keep your horse under control, okay?”
After the excitement had died down, Lanie approached Reece at the loading dock out back. He’d just helped unload a shipment of mulch. The morning sun beat down on his golden-brown skin, raising a bead of perspiration on his brow.
He signed the bill of lading and handed the clipboard back to the driver. Then he retrieved a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped his face before acknowledging Lanie’s presence.
“What’d your midget mule do now?”
“N-nothing.” Why did she get so flustered when he looked at her that way? Squinting in the late-morning sunshine, his eyes appeared hooded, like a hawk’s. That must be it. When his eyes turned fierce like that, she felt like the prey. “She’s an Arabian,” she said inanely.
“What?”
“Winnie’s not a mule. She’s a miniaturized Arabian horse.”
“Oh.” Reece folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to get to the point.
Lanie decided to forgo the battle armor and try for a gentler approach. “I’m sorry about the commotion my horse caused. I’ll hold her tighter next time.” She rubbed at a mosquito bite on her wrist.
“C’mon, let’s get out of this hot sun.” He touched her arm as they stepped inside.
Instead of cooling off, Lanie suddenly felt twenty degrees warmer. Reece reached up to pull the sliding metal door down its track, and she couldn’t help noticing the sinewy strength in his body. Lanie tried to wipe the lust off her face and replace it with a look of polished professionalism. He already thought she was a flake. Why make matters worse by making him think she was a seductive flake.
He walked beside her as they passed between rows of green plastic flowerpots. “What I don’t understand is, why would anyone buy a nonworking animal? And why did you name the thing Winnie?”
“What did you expect me to name her … Flicka?” She grinned as he considered the name from the vintage TV show.
“That’s a start.” Reece reached out to straighten a display on Lanie’s side of the aisle. His arm brushed her body. She shivered at his touch, remembering the sight of him wrapped only in a towel.
His eyes caught hers. He must have felt the spark, too.
“Cats catch mice, dogs hunt,” Reece continued and resumed his stride as if nothing had passed between them. “Cows give milk, and you can ride a normal horse. Why did you waste your money on a shrimp like Winnie?”
“She was a gift of love. And I don’t consider his money wasted.”
Reece arched one eyebrow. His silence invited her to say more. Around Reece, Lanie found herself shy and vulnerable. If she talked about her father now, she might cry. They approached the office together, and Reece stepped back to let her enter first.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Lanie. “Here’s your T-shirt. I washed and pressed it for you.”
Howard popped his head in the door behind him, but Reece appeared not to notice.
“I was wondering what happened to my favorite shirt. Forgot I left it at your house.” Lanie tried to stop him before he said more, but he took the shirt and held it up. “Ironed, huh? Never wore an ironed T-shirt before, but there’s always a first.” Lanie hadn’t heard him talk this much before.
She tried to shut him up. “Umm, Reece—”
“You don’t iron your nighties, do you?” Reece grinned broadly and plunged further into the mire. “You know, like the oversized pajama top you wore last night?”
Behind them, Howard cleared his throat.
Reece whirled around and started at the sight of his employee.
“Uh, I’ll come back later,” Howard said, “when you’re not so busy.” He turned to leave, but Reece stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.
“Don’t go. It’s not, ah, what you think.”
“I don’t think nothin’.” Howard shot a glance at Lanie who stood openmouthed at Reece’s unexpected teasing. “But if I was to think something”—he winked at Reece—“I’d think you know how to pick ’em. Anyhow, it’s about time.”
For the moment, Reece seemed at a loss for words. “Howard—”
“I just stopped by to ask y’all if you want one of Etta’s burgers. But being as you’re so busy, I’ll just make myself scarce.” Howard left as quickly as he’d entered.
Reece folded the shirt. He stepped to the door and shoved it shut with his heel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was standing there.” Then, as if unaware of what he was doing, he crumpled the shirt in his hands.
Lanie fumbled with a pencil on the desk. “It’s nothing new. I’m used to fighting my reputation.” At the shocked expression on his face, she hastened to add, “A lot of people think I’m strange because I have a unique pet and because weird things happen to me. Like last night—”
“Yes, about last night.” Reece leaned against the closed door and toyed with the design on the shirt. “I have to warn you, the law’s hell on Peeping Toms around here.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Next time you want to peep, just let me know. You don’t have to sneak around outside my bedroom window for a free show.”
“I didn’t … I wasn’t…” The audacity of this guy! “For your information, Maurice Masardi, I’ve seen little boys before, so your generous offer is quite unnecessary.”
Reece laughed at the uncomplimentary comparison. He didn’t know what had prompted him to tease Lanie as he had, but he knew he deserved the insult. Lanie stared back at him, still breathing fire.
One hand rested in a challenging manner on her hip. Even in slacks, she looked sexy. Irrationally, he found himself wanting to hold her and kiss away her anger. He wanted her rigid stance to melt away as he took her into his arms.
Easy, Masardi, he cautioned himself, this is your employee.
He met her gaze and noticed the defiant, upward thrust of her chin. But the eyes told the true story. In them he read a challenge, but there was something more subtle, as well. Fear, perhaps?
Automatically, he took a step toward Lanie. She retreated a half step, stopping with a grimace when the backs of her legs touched the desk. Reece’s eyes trailed to the grim line of her mouth. A faint blue spot marked the left corner of her lip. One more step, and he reached out to touch the bruise on her mouth.
By now, the hardness had left her eyes and was replaced with curiosity. Her expression softened, and her eyes widened slightly, all of which made him want to touch more than her lip. Lightly, he ran the pad of his thumb over the tender flesh. He had forgotten how soft a woman’s lips could be.
Involuntarily, his tongue flicked out to moisten his own lips. Lanie innocently repeated the gesture. The wet, pink tip touched his thumb, and Reece self-consciously returned his hand to his side.
What had gotten into him? He didn’t need to get involved with a woman right now, especially this one who seemed to turn everything she touched into disaster. And although he begrudgingly acknowledged the attraction she held for him, he knew a fling was out of the question.
Partly because she didn’t seem to be the “fling” type, but mostly because succumbing to his baser urges would mess up their working relationship. Why, when things were starting to look up, did she have to bungle into his life and complicate it?
Reece wiped his damp palms on his back pockets. “You, ah, should have put ice on that lip right after you hurt it.” God, what an idiot! Of course she knew that.
A shy smile that seemed awkward on her face lifted the bruise a fraction. In an instant it was gone, replaced by a look of pure devilment. “Thank you, Dr. Masardi,” she said and eased herself away from the desk. “What do you recommend for splinters?”
Reece squinted at her in consternation. What did that have to do with her bruised lip? “Huh?”
“My sit-down is full of fence splinters. Since it was your fence that caused it, the least you can do is recommend somebody to pull them out.” Her lower lip pouted out, but he could see she was trying not to laugh. “What do y’all have around here … midwives?”
The little fox! She was enjoying this far too much. Reece walked over to his desk and laid the shirt on one corner, then placed his truck keys on top.
The action put some distance between them and gave him a moment to respond without sounding winded. He sat on the desktop and rested his feet on the chair. He smiled at her reaction to his uncharacteristic impropriety.
“Nope,” he said. “I don’t know of any midwives around here. But I can give you the name of a good veterinarian.”
Reece was immediately rewarded with the smile Lanie could no longer hold back. For some reason, it warmed him.
“I doubt that an animal doctor could help me.”
“On the contrary. This one is an expert in your problem.” At Lanie’s quizzical expression, he continued. “His sign says, ‘Specializes in Horses, Cattle, and Asses.’ What more could you want?”
To his amazement, she laughed out loud. It was a pleasant, musical sound. He had half expected her to react with embarrassment or to try to cover her surprise. What he hadn’t expected was for her to laugh at herself so wholeheartedly.
She slid into her chair, wincing slightly. “I deserved that. Touché.”
“Don’t you mean, ‘tushy’?”
She groaned, and Reece held up his hands as if to fend off thrown objects. His watch beeped twice to announce the noon hour.
“Look, Howard ought to be back soon. Do you want to get a burger from Etta’s?” He could have kicked himself as he watched her waver in indecision.
Fool! he told himself. What about not getting involved with an employee? Especially this one!
Mentally, he reassured himself that this was nothing more than if he were sharing lunch with Violet or Howard. But he knew better.
“Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I need to spend my lunchtime making phone calls.” She retrieved a scrap of paper from her designer purse. “However, if you don’t want me to conduct my Stop the Highway campaign from here, I’ll understand.”
Reece stood and shoved the chair under the desk. Of course he minded. If that look on her face was any indication, she was determined to wreck his plan for the business. What had he done to deserve this kind of punishment?
Since she wasn’t paid for her lunchtime, she was entitled to use it as she pleased. And even if he tried to stop her, Reece had no doubt she’d redouble her efforts to foul up the highway plan. He clenched his teeth in frustration.
“Do whatever the you want,” he muttered and stalked out of the room.