The Cowboy's Housekeeper Read online

  That thought drove the rage from her, and tears prickled in her eyes. The truth was, she’d come to a discovery without even realizing it. She didn’t want to go back to Austin. The telecommuting arrangement was working out well. Why couldn’t it continue? Between Barb and Celeste, they represented her wishes in the day-to-day operations of Fancy Duds.

  What she really wanted was for Jason to confess his love for her and ask her to stay. To step into the future she’d dreamed of, the one she walked away from eight years ago. But could she make him love her again?

  She straightened in the chair. Jessica Cole, what’s the matter with you? It’s not like you to throw in the towel.

  She wasn’t about to give up this easy! There was more than one way to skin a cat.

  “No offense,” she told Tabby.

  Tomorrow was another day, and she had a few more feminine wiles to wield.

  Time was running out, and she was a desperate woman.

  Twelve

  The next day dragged by as she plotted her course of action for that evening. She gave herself a manicure, pedicure, facial—everything she could think of to make her mission less likely to fail.

  Late in the morning the home phone shrilled. Jessica ran to answer it, fanning her hands in the air to dry the coat of fingernail polish she had just applied.

  Monica Sawyers’ lilting voice drifted sweetly over the line. “Jessica?”

  Something close to panic threatened to bloom in her chest. Was Monica calling to involve Jason in any plans for this evening?

  “Yes?”

  “How are you this morning? Jason said you had taken quite suddenly ill yesterday.” Her voice held real concern.

  Good grief. Why couldn’t Monica be the nasty kind of woman she could readily dislike?

  Instead she was a super nice person. Under other circumstances, she and Jessica could easily have been friends.

  Jessica tempered her voice and said meekly into the receiver. “I’m feeling much better this morning.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”

  You could take a slow boat to China. Shame stabbed at her for the catty thoughts “No, nothing.”

  “Well, don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” Monica paused. “I really mean that, you know.”

  “I know, and thank you for your concern.”

  A brief moment of silence followed on the line. “Jessica, I wonder if you’d mind answering a nagging question for me. One that’s been bothering me a lot lately.”

  She swallowed hard as she heard the tone of seriousness in Monica’s voice. “I wouldn’t mind. What is it?”

  Another hesitant pause. “I really don’t know any way to put this, so I’ll just be blunt. Do you and Jason still care for each other?”

  Jessica sank down in the chair next to the phone. The frank question left her shaken.

  Monica continued, speaking rapidly. “I know about your brief marriage, and I know how hard Jason took the annulment.” Her voice dropped. “At times, I really have to wonder if he’s completely over you.”

  “I don’t think you have any worries about that.” To her dismay, sadness colored Jessica words.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. I have no intention of prying into your private affairs, and I can readily see how hard it would be to get over a man like Jason. I know. I’ve fallen in love with him myself. But, I can honestly say I don’t know if he returns that love.”

  Jessica mulled over Monica’s words. How right she was. It wasn’t easy getting over a man like Jason.

  “I’m not blind,” Monica continued. “I see the look that comes into his eyes when your name is mentioned. It seems he’s constantly fighting within himself to stay away from you.”

  The honesty with which Monica was entrusting Jessica with her blunt thoughts touched her. Woman-to-woman, what could she do but return the trust?

  Though it hurt her to say the words, Jessica answered in a matching blunt tone. “Jason doesn’t want to become involved with me again.”

  “And, what about you?” Monica asked softly.

  “I—I still love him,” Jessica admitted.

  “But you really feel he doesn’t want to get involved again?”

  “That’s what he’s told me on a number of occasions.” She shut her eyes against the pain that admission brought.

  Monica’s voice came calmly back across the line. “Jason’s quite a man. You never really know what he’s thinking, but somehow I suspect he’s not as over you as he believes he is.”

  Jessica’s breath caught in sharp surprise at Monica’s remark. “I thought you were in love with him.”

  “Oh, I am.” Monica laughed shakily. “And as much as I like you, you can rest assured I will do everything in my power to keep him. But I can’t fault you for loving him, too.”

  Jessica smiled, shaking her head unbelievingly. Was that a gauntlet being thrown? “Then you won’t mind if I do everything in my power to get him back?”

  “I’d mind,” Monica said. Then her voice took on a cheerful tone. “Let’s just say, may the best ma—woman win!”

  Jessica matched her friendly adversary’s tone. “Thanks, Monica. I’m sure going to try.”

  As she replaced the receiver in the cradle, her wet fingernail bumped the hard plastic. “Drat!” she muttered as she bounded for her room to reapply her polish.

  At four o’clock she checked the pot roast—one of Jason’s favorites—and, satisfied that it would be succulent and tender, headed for the bathroom. She ran a tubful of hot water and sprinkled in the most pleasant-smelling bubble bath from her bathroom vanity. She lay back and relaxed in the aromatic heat, long enough for the fragrance to penetrate her skin.

  Her bath finished, she applied her makeup with care. Jason didn’t like overly-made-up women. Instead, he preferred a clean, natural look. Jessica had been blessed with smooth, peachy skin, so she contented herself with a bit of powder and focused on her best feature – her eyes. The finishing touch was a bit of slightly-tinted lip gloss. When she was satisfied that she looked her best, she raced back into her bedroom to don the dress she’d selected earlier and laid out in readiness on the bed.

  Tabby had made himself a comfy bed in the middle of the silky garment.

  “Scat, you pesky cat!”

  She shooed him away and applied a lint roller to rid the dress of a layer of hair, and then slid it over her head. The skirt fell in graceful folds to float around her knees. Settling the fabric on the curves of her hips, she turned to face the mirror.

  She let out an audible gasp. The pastel violet accented her eyes and hair perfectly, as she’d known they would. But the neckline! It dipped to a dangerous level, showing more cleavage than she was accustomed to revealing. This might be carrying things a little far. Her yellow dress was flattering…

  No. She wanted to look as attractive to Jason as she possibly could tonight. Tugging at the neckline, she turned around slowly, looking at every angle in the mirror. The silky fabric clung to her tiny waist, another of her good features. The full skirt barely hinted at soft curves from the rear view. Sweat dampened her palms. Would Jason think she was trying to seduce him?

  Was she trying to seduce him?

  No. She shook her head. But attract his attention? You bet. Time for him to think of her as a woman instead of just a housekeeper. A kiss would be oh-so-nice….

  She ran a hairbrush through her loose, softly curled hair. For the crowning touch, she selected a bottle from her perfume tray that matched the scented bubble bath. Summer Night Love. Just a dab behind her ears and on her wrists.

  One last check in the mirror, and she strolled with confidence back to the kitchen. Just in time to put the apple pie in the oven.

  Jason was late getting home, and entered the house hot, tired, and dirty. He barely mumbled a greeting and headed immediately for the shower.

  Dismayed, Jessica paced the floor. Not a single comment about her
dress. Or even about the wonderful aroma wafting from the oven. Had all her efforts been for nothing?

  When she heard the shower turn off, she set the food on the table. Pot roast, potatoes, carrots, homemade rolls, a special salad with strawberries and candied pecans. Then she lit candles and dimmed the lights.

  He entered the room still rubbing moisturizer on his newly-shaven face, and stopped short. His eyes went round, and she followed his gaze as it took in the candles, the table, and finally rested on her. Her worries fled when appreciation flooded the emerald depths.

  “You’ve been busy today.” His eyebrows arched. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Nothing special.” She poured nonchalance into her tone and smiled. “I just felt like dressing up and having a nice meal.”

  His gaze swept her again, coming to rest on her low neckline. “Well, you look…” He swallowed. “Great.”

  She brightened her smile. “Thank you.”

  “I feel underdressed.” He glanced down at his jeans and tee-shirt. “Should I change.”

  With a low chuckle, she shook her head. “You look fine. Let’s just enjoy dinner. Maybe afterward we could sit on the porch and watch the stars come out.”

  Back in the old days, when he still loved her, they would take his car out into the country, lay on the hood with their backs resting on the windshield, and watch the heavens light up.

  He gave her a suspicious look, but instead of replying, crossed the floor to the table and pulled out her chair with a gentlemanly gesture.

  Pleased, she slid into it.

  Dinner progressed with little talk, but Jessica relished in his obvious enjoyment of the food she’d prepared. His gaze returned again and again to her low-cut dress, and more than once heat flooded her face. But he didn’t comment, so neither did she.

  When she placed a slice of apple pie a la mode in front of him, he caught her wrist and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “Thank you. This is the best meal you’ve cooked since you got here.”

  She poured warmth into her voice. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  When she returned to her chair, he appeared to remember something.

  “By the way, I saw Willis Mercy today. I invited him and Marcy for dinner tomorrow evening. I hope you don’t mind. Since I have to do a lot of business with him at the bank, I try to take them out for dinner every couple of months or so. I just thought it would be nice this time to show off my pretty housekeeper and what she’s done with the house.” He gestured with his fork toward the pie. “Not to mention her cooking,”

  A black cloud came up and hovered momentarily over Jessica’s head. “I have to cook dinner for Marcy Evans?”

  “No, Angel,” he said patiently. “For Marcy Mercy, my banker’s wife.”

  “Same difference,” she muttered under her breath, then added quickly, “No, I don’t mind. I could do that.”

  “Good, I thought you could.” He made a move as if to leave the room.

  When he finished his pie, he stood and patted his stomach. “Too many more like that, Angel, and I’ll have to buy bigger jeans.” He turned toward the door. “Guess I’ll catch up on some of my bookwork before turning in.”

  He was escaping!

  She leaped up from her chair. “Uh, what about the stars?”

  Slowly, he turned back to her, his expression guarded. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  She crossed the distance between them slowly, giving her skirt a twitch so it would float gracefully. She’d seen that done on TV in an old movie. “It’s early yet.” Raising her hand slowly, she reached up to smooth the collar of his shirt.

  Jason backed away slightly, his eyes locked on the plunging neckline of her dress.

  “Is there anything special you’d like to do?” She whispered, a little breathless at her own boldness. What would she do if he suggested…something she wasn’t willing to do? “I mean for dinner tomorrow night.” She widened her eyes and blinked.

  He shifted nervously. “Oh, I don’t know.” A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Whatever you want.”

  She moved even closer, rising on her tiptoes to put her lips within kissing range of his. “What I really want is to spend the evening with you.” One eyebrow twitched upward. She lowered her voice to a husky tone. “After all, you told me to ask you if I wanted to spend time with you. Didn’t you?”

  They stood so close she savored the manly smell of his aftershave. His breath warmed her lips.

  “What is that perfume you’re wearing? It’s… really nice,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I don’t remember.” A gleeful thrill coursed through her. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as he reacted to her nearness. This was going to be even easier than she had imagined.

  He moved slightly closer. Now his lips were an inch from hers. “Do you want to know what I really want?”

  “Tell me.” She tilted her head, her sensitive lips aching to feel the touch of his. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Meatloaf,” he whispered softly.

  She bit her tongue as her eyes snapped open. “Meatloaf?”

  “Yeah, meatloaf. For dinner tomorrow. It’s one of my favorites.”

  The words doused her like a bucket full of ice water. She stepped back, and hastily tugged up her neckline.

  His smile twisted into a knowing smirk. He’d known what she was doing and played along just to embarrass her. Fury burned in her face.

  “Maybe a few potatoes, a nice big salad, some of those hot rolls you make—you know, just the usual stuff.” He headed down the hall toward his study, and turned his head to speak to her over his shoulder. “Fix us a meal they won’t soon forget, Angel.”

  A moment later he began to whistle. When Jessica identified the tune, her fury burned even hotter. “The Old Gray Mare.”

  “Ooooooo, you are such a toad!” She screeched in his direction. With a defiant stomp of her foot she marched to her bedroom. Tabby appeared out of nowhere and sauntered across the doorway. She roared in a voice made him jump for safety. “Get out of my way, cat!”

  In her room, she paced, muttering to herself. “Fix them a meal they won’t forget.” She addressed the wall that lay in the direction of his study. “Well, you can bet your stinkin’ meatloaf on that, Jason Rawlings. Believe me, you can definitely count on that.”

  Thirteen

  Jessica rose bright and early the following morning, her blood still boiling from the night before. He had made her the world’s biggest fool, and during the night she’d hatched a plan to get even. She slammed the coffeepot under the kitchen faucet, spraying water all over herself and the cabinet in her haste. She had just plugged it in and reached for her coffee cup when she heard a noise behind her.

  Jason asked, “Jessica, where did you put my clean underwear?”

  “In your top drawer where I always do.” She turned to face him, and her mouth dropped open. He stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his slender waist. Her face felt like a four-alarm fire.

  “They’re not there,” he replied casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. “I just looked.”

  Jessica stood frozen. She couldn’t help but seeing his massive chest with the thick, soft curly hair, and had to force her eyes to fix on his face. Then with a whirl that made her dizzy, she presented her back to him and faced the kitchen window.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I think I’m looking for my clean underwear.” The matter-of-fact tone grated on her nerves “Why?”

  “You know very well why.” Her voice came out in a yell. She swallowed against a dry throat, and lowered her tone. “You don’t have one stitch of clothes on.”

  “Well, I just thought after that dress you had on last night, you had decided we didn’t have to be quite so formal around the house anymore.”

  She detected a mocking smirk, but dared not turn aroun
d to see his expression. Instead, she slammed her coffee cup down on the cabinet. “I certainly wouldn’t call wearing clothes being formal.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Now that we’ve defined acceptable household attire, I’ll go back to my dresser and check again. I could have overlooked them.”

  “You do that,” she gritted out.

  She followed his progress by the sounds of his bare feet scuffing the carpet.

  Jessica had just poured her coffee, trying to steady her nerves, when his voice floated down the hall.

  “Well, what do you know? They’re right here where you said they were.”

  Jessica stepped out onto the back porch to shake a small area rug. The air held a hot, stifling stillness this morning. From the looks of the sky in the distance they might get rain by tonight.

  But no storms, please, she prayed silently.

  The storms that could sweep through this small Texas town had always terrified her. Although she’d never actually been in a tornado, she had heard some hair-raising tales from Uncle Fred and Aunt Rainey concerning ones they had experienced. As a child she’d listened, wide-eyed, and decided that she would happily forgo that experience.

  Just as she finished shaking the rug, the mailman pulled up to the mailbox to deposit the mail. She waved at him as he drove on down the dusty road, and then gathered the handful of bills and advertisements from the big box. Tucked between the junk, she found a letter addressed to her. She smiled as she recognized the handwriting of old Mrs. Houseman, her landlady in Austin. Jessica had dropped her a short note when she moved into Jason’s house, informing her that she would be staying on here. She’d supplied Jason’s home phone number and address where she could be reached in case of an emergency.

  Jessica ripped open the letter. Through the last few years, Mrs. Houseman had mothered her. If Jessica was sick, her elderly landlady would be the first to show up at her door with a jar of her homemade chicken soup and a big bottle of Dr. Caldwell’s laxative. Mrs. Houseman held the opinion that Dr. Caldwell’s was the answer to anyone’s ills, no matter what the diagnosis.