Marriage At Circle M

The front door slammed and Grace jumped. When Mike strode into the kitchen, she took a step back, her gaze drawn undeniably toward his.

God, he looked fabulous. All coiled strength in his faded jeans and corded muscles beneath a blue T-shirt. His hat, the cream-colored Stetson he never worked without, was on his head, but when he saw her standing there he automatically reached up to remove it.

His hair clung to his scalp in dark curls and Grace watched as one solitary bead of sweat trickled from one temple down his jaw.

Maren smacked her cup on the tray of her chair while Johanna watched, clearly intrigued with the silent interplay between the couple.

“Grace.”

“Mike.” His name sounded strangled to her as it came out of her mouth. And she knew she was glad she’d chosen a skirt and pretty blouse after all.

“I, uh, just came to get something to drink.”

“I think Johanna’s making some iced tea.”

Still their gazes clung and she remembered the feel of his hands on her arms yesterday morning. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Goodness, they were staring at each other like idiots.

He broke away first. “Iced tea sounds perfect, but you’re not here to look after me, Mrs. Madsen.”

Johanna poured three glasses without batting an eye. “I’d like to know where all this Mrs. Madsen nonsense came from all of a sudden. I’ve known both of you so long I used to wipe your runny noses, so call me Johanna or Gram like everyone else.”

Mike’s lips quivered as he struggled not to smile. The Madsens were as close to family as he had, not counting his cousin Maggie.

Johanna took one look at Maren and plucked the girl up from her chair. “I’ll just go change the baby,” she suggested blandly. “Grace, I’m sure you remember your way to the office.”

“Of course I do. I’ll sort things out, not to worry.”

“I’m sure Mike will help you. Won’t you, Mike?”

His lips pursed together and he let his eyes twinkle at the older woman. “Indeed I will…Gram.”

Her rusty laugh disappeared with the baby and he was left with Grace.

She looked beautiful today. As usual. But he thought he saw hints of purple beneath her eyes. Lord only knew what work she’d taken on now. She was always working. And now he’d helped her exhaustion along by asking for a favor. He should have found another way.

But another way would have meant that he wouldn’t have an excuse to see her. And after she’d let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, at the Rileys’s anniversary party, he thought about seeing her more and more. He’d been shocked to say the least, but not unpleasantly. Knowing Grace still felt some attraction for him seemed to legitimize his own for her. He’d let her get away once before, and had always been sorry. But knowing she still thought of him in that way changed everything. Heck, not that he’d admit it to her, but he’d made the excuse for a midmorning drink just because he’d seen her car pull into the yard.

Her hair was sneaking out of the twist, curling around her temples in damp tendrils. The warmth of the morning gave a glow to her skin. To him, she was a picture of femininity, of innocence, purity. Certainly too fine of a woman for a man like him to tangle with.

“You’re looking tired. I hope this extra work won’t put unnecessary strain on you.”

That was it? Grace tried to keep her lips from falling open but failed. All those long stares and all he came up with was “you’re looking tired”? Her elation at seeing him flew out the window.

“Your compliments make a girl all warm and fuzzy.”

He at least had the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say you looked bad.”

“Even better. You know, I can’t imagine what the women around here see in you.”

It was out before she could think better of it and she instantly flushed. They both knew it was a lie. He knew very well that she was one of those women. She’d said it herself as they’d danced. She covered the slip with more offensive:

“But I can assure you I can handle a little unnecessary strain, as you put it. I’m not made of china, Michael.” She used his full name and watched his lip curl a little. She knew how much he hated being called Michael.

Mike had put his hat back on, the brim shading his eyes and making him look even larger than his six-foot-two frame.

“Is there anything I can do to help you then?”

Grace looked up and saw his eyes were earnest even though his tone was cold, and she nearly backed down. She acknowledged the attraction, but that was where it stopped. Mike didn’t feel anything for her, that much was clear. Men who were interested told you how nice you looked, gave you compliments instead of remarking on the presence of bags beneath your eyes or asking you to balance the books. She’d done the longing gaze thing for far too many years, and it had gotten her nowhere. It hadn’t been enough before. And it wouldn’t get her anywhere in the future, either. Men didn’t want women like her, not once they realized that she was more than the quiet, girl-next-door that they thought she was.

“Yes, Mike, there is something you can do for me. You can get out of the way and let me do my job.”

CHAPTER TWO

GRACE SHUT THE checkbook and sighed. Alex had done a good job with the books, but she was behind by a month or two. Not much wonder, Grace thought, taking a brain break. She leaned back in the desk chair and took a sip from her pop can. Alex was pregnant, chasing after a toddler and summer was the busiest time on a farm. Now it was up to Grace to straighten things out and keep things up-to-date. Even if Alex did get home soon, she was under orders for bed rest, and then after the baby came she’d be too exhausted to worry about payables and receivables. Grace wasn’t sure if being close to Mike so often was going to be a blessing or a curse.

But she was all too happy to fill in. She loved accounting. It was gratifying to see all those numbers line up just right and have things balance out at the end of the day. It was neat and orderly, and every time she finished printing a report or balancing an account, she got this great sense of accomplishment. With so much of her life feeling arbitrary and out of sync, balancing those columns was like something in her life was where it was supposed to be.

The downside was, in order to put food on the table, she had to do other jobs just to make ends meet. It was a small town, and without her C.P.A., she didn’t make enough to pay the bills with the few accounting jobs she had. She hired herself out as a cleaning lady as well. It supplemented her income and, to be honest, kept her from being too lonely. Yesterday she’d spent the entire day cleaning for Mrs. Darrin. When the cleaning was finished, she’d planned to go back home and finish painting the trim on her house. But Mrs. Darrin was feeling poorly and had asked Grace to tend to her garden as well, so Grace stayed and cut the grass and weeded the feeble bed in front of the house. After that, she’d stayed for tea. She appreciated the social contact almost as much as the paycheck. But because she’d put in a longer day, she’d been up since five this morning, finishing up the painting so she could spend the day at Windover.

“How’s it going?”

She swiveled hard in her chair, her hand swinging out so that some of the liquid splashed out of the pop can and landed on her white capris. She scowled up at him, her heart pounding from the sight of him standing in the doorway. He was so tall in his boots that it seemed that his head almost grazed the top of the door frame.

“God, Mike, how on earth do you manage to sneak up on someone like that?”

“I made enough noise to wake the dead. You were in the zone.”

Zoned out, more like it, but she wouldn’t admit that.

Her eyes lit on a rivulet of sweat beaded at the hollow of his throat. There was something so elementally attractive about a hardworking man. Something that didn’t come with expensive toiletries and business suits. It was that little bit of dirt, the little bit of scruff and the dedication and muscle it took to do what he did. When she didn’t say anything back to him, he raised one eyebrow in question.

“You…you don’t have your hat on,” she stammered, immediately feeling stupid at such an inane comment.

His other eyebrow lifted. “It’s around here somewhere.”

Oh, this was crazy. Every time he was out of the way she swore she wouldn’t be so affected the next time they met. Promised herself she’d forget about the past. Then she’d see him and she’d become a babbling idiot. She turned away from him deliberately, picking up her red pen and twisting it in her fingers.

“I still have work to do, so unless there’s something you needed…”

Even without his customary hat, he towered above her until he lowered himself by her chair. His knees cracked as he squatted, balancing on the heels of his boots. He put a hand on the arm of her chair and swung it a little so she was semifacing him.

“I came to ask another favor. I’d ask Johanna, but…”

“But a woman her age…chasing after a nearly two-year-old is taking its toll on her. I know. What’s up?”

He lifted his gray eyes to her. It was like magnets of opposite poles when she met his eyes with her own, pulling them together. As if nearly ten years hadn’t elapsed and they were back in Lloyd Andersen’s meadow on a cool Sunday morning. She was unable to turn away, instead drawn into the earnest depths.

“Alex is coming home tonight, and I wondered, that is…I know she’s supposed to be on bed rest and all, but…”