The Cowboy's Lullaby

Barbara Davies was the housekeeper at the Brad-dock ranch and had been hired by Desiree’s husband shortly before he passed away. Since Brianna would need a sitter while Chloe was at the attorney’s office, Barbara was asked to meet them at the hotel.

Believing Brianna should be around people she was familiar with during this difficult time, Desiree had given the housekeeper a raise and secured her services through a three-year employment contract.

“Barbara comes across as stuffy and snooty,” Desiree had said, “but she’s good with Brianna. And she’s loyal.”

Chloe didn’t care for snobs, but she would have to trust Desiree on this one.

“There she is.” Brianna waved at a salt-and-pepper-haired matron in her late fifties.

The pleasantly plump woman smiled at the child and strode toward their table, waddling as she approached.

Chloe stood to introduce herself, but decided to wait until Barbara had addressed Brianna.

“Welcome back to Texas,” the woman told the child. “I’ve missed you, honey. That big old house isn’t the same without your smile.”

“I missed you, too. Did you feed my fish while I was gone?”

“I most certainly did. And I cleaned their bowl again this morning.” The woman turned to Chloe, her gaze assessing her in rapid fashion, her nose drifting upward in a self-righteous manner. Or had that only been Chloe’s imagination?

Either way, she reminded herself of Desiree’s acceptance of the woman and reached out her arm in greeting. “How do you do?”

Mrs. Davies took her hand in a firm grip. “Very well, thank you.”

“You’re a bit early,” Chloe said.

“Mr. Braddock always insisted on punctuality, and fortunately, I pride myself on being timely.”

“Well, good. Why don’t you join us for lunch?”

“I had a late breakfast, but maybe I’ll have a cup of tea.” The housekeeper took a seat and placed her black handbag at her feet. Then she glanced at her wristwatch. “From what I understand, the meeting is in an hour. Will you have time to eat, change clothes and drive to the office?”

“I’m only going to have a salad,” Chloe said. “And I’m already dressed.”

The woman’s brow twitched and her lips tensed. She fingered the silver cross on her necklace. “I see.”

Apparently she didn’t agree with Chloe’s choice of apparel—a form-fitting black dress. The stuffy/ snobby type rarely did. But then again, Desiree had given the woman her stamp of approval, so Chloe would reserve judgment.

“I suppose it might be more appropriate to wear something a bit more conservative,” Chloe admitted. “But I gave up dressing to impress others years ago.”

And she had the emotional scars to prove it, although she kept them hidden. Still, every now and again, they crept to the forefront, reminding her of who she was and where she’d come from.

In spite of the money her father had managed to parlay in his dealings and the prestigious private school he’d sent her to, life had been tough for her as a child. Her classmates at Preston Prep had not only been cliquish, but mean. And no matter how hard Chloe had tried to conform, dressing to their standards, it hadn’t mattered one bit. So she’d given up and had decided to wear whatever she darned well pleased.

Either way, the boys seemed to flock around her. And she’d soon learned how to use that to her advantage—advice she’d learned from Desiree, actually.

Lessons from Desiree #2: “Be proud of your assets and make the best of them.”

Chloe had not only taken that bit of wisdom to heart, she’d also put her own spin on it: if you’ve got it, flaunt it.

“You look pretty,” Brianna said. “Just like Mommy.”

Chloe cupped the child’s cheek. “Thanks, honey. I can’t think of a nicer compliment than that.”

Over lunch, Brianna chattered away about the friends she’d met in Bayside, as well as her visits to the San Diego Zoo and Sea World.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Barbara said. “I plan to take my niece and nephew on a trip someday. Maybe I ought to consider the San Diego area.”

Twenty minutes later, after finishing the last of her salad, Chloe blotted her lips with the napkin, then reached for her purse and gave Mrs. Davies the key to their room. “We’re in 1410.”

“Are you going now?” Brianna asked.

“I need to visit the ladies’ room first and freshen my makeup. Then I’m off so I can get this meeting out of the way.” Chloe didn’t need to look at Mrs. Davies to sense the woman’s disapproval, yet old habits were tough to break, and she stole a peek anyway.

Yep. Brow furrowed, expression severe.

Over the years, and after innumerable disappointments, Chloe no longer gave a rip about what people thought of her, but sometimes, the lonely child within couldn’t refrain from seeking approval and respect.

But there was no way on earth she’d try to be someone or something she wasn’t. Not today. So she’d made up her mind to pull out all the stops when it came to dressing for this meeting. She’d done it for Desiree.

And for herself.

“Brian Willoughby and Jake Braddock are both rather conventional,” Mrs. Davies said.

“Good.” Chloe couldn’t help but smile as she scooted her chair back and stood. “Then this meeting ought to be interesting.”

“To say the least,” the older woman responded.

“Have fun with Mrs. Davies,” Chloe told Brianna. Then she placed a kiss on the little girl’s cheek, leaving a faint pink mark. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As she strode toward the restroom, she tugged at the hem of the knit dress that had hiked up when she’d been sitting. It was something she’d wear clubbing, if she were inclined to do that sort of thing. As it was, even though she owned the proper nighttime wardrobe, her evenings were pretty quiet. Or as Desiree would say, pleasantly boring.

Chloe ought to be nervous about facing Jake Brad-dock again, she supposed. But sometimes it was fun to be a bit naughty and rebellious.

Especially around conservative men who valued being in control of those around them.

Jake sat in Willoughby’s office, waiting for Desiree’s “dear” friend to arrive. He glanced at his watch.1:32 p.m.

Some women didn’t consider themselves late until fifteen minutes had passed, but punctuality was important to him.

And Chloe Haskell was late.

When a buzz sounded on the intercom, the attorney responded. “Yes.”

“Ms. Haskell is here,” a woman’s voice said.

“Please show her in.”

Willoughby stood, and Jake followed suit. But when the attractive redhead swept into the room, wearing a curve-hugging, black knit dress and spike heels, Jake nearly dropped back in his seat.