Sultry

“I can understand that.”

A short silence followed his bleak words. Lindsay broke it by saying, “My main concern right now is convincing Daddy once and for all that I’m not going to marry Peter.”

“Well, good luck. You’ve got a daunting task ahead.”

Another silence ensued as Lindsay’s eyes returned to the colorful grounds. It was then that she saw a man sauntering across the nearby lawn as if he owned it. He was a big man, with a loose, long-limbed gait that bespoke of self-assurance, if not a bit of arrogance.

An attractive hunk, she thought wryly, unable to remember the last time she’d been affected by any man. Of course, she wasn’t affected by him, she corrected herself quickly, except in a purely objective way. After all, he was obviously an employee, and much too old for her, to boot.

Still, her gaze lingered. He had a strong, rugged profile, and dark hair that curled slightly at his nape. But it wasn’t his face that held her attention. It was from the neck down.

He was shirtless, and even from where she stood, she could see the contour of his body. And a fine body it was, too.

For a moment Lindsay forgot all about Cooper, Timothy and—especially—Peter. She was intrigued and wondered who the man was, though she had never before taken an interest in the people who maintained the huge estate.

As if he sensed he was being watched, he swung his head sideways, and their eyes met. She was trapped. Caught staring. Her face flooded with color, especially when he seemed to be surveying her with guarded eyes.

What was he thinking? More to the point, why did she care?

Suddenly, his brows arched in a deliberate and dismissive gesture, then he turned his head.

Lindsay didn’t know why, but that look irritated her no end. She had never considered herself a snob, but she felt like putting him in his place, wherever that might be.

She yanked her gaze away from him and back to her brother. “Who’s that man?”

Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean Mitch Rawlins?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“He’s our new estate manager.”

“Don’t you mean head gardener?” Lindsay asked in a catty tone.

Tim gave her a perplexed look, then said with a touch of mockery, “I’d say he’s a bit more than that. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason,” Lindsay snapped, even as her hungry eyes once again sought the man out.

Three

Mitchum Rawlins, known as Mitch by his friends, continued to stare at the boss’s daughter. Or rather, the lady of the manor, he corrected himself with a smirk, long after she had turned her haughty little nose up and away from him.

He wondered if she thought her snubbing him made any difference. His smirk deepened as he rubbed his stubbled chin. Having only been working on the estate as its main caretaker for a month, he’d never had the opportunity to meet Lindsay Newman firsthand. Word had it that she had gone to Europe. He guessed her old man’s accident had brought her back home.

While she was in no way hard on the eyes, she caught his attention mainly because everything about her seemed to radiate a restless energy. And usually, where there was energy, there was passion.

Although she appeared on the thin side, she was still well-proportioned. Her small, jutting breasts and narrow waistline bore that out. But it was the strawberry-blond hair swirling around her face that was the eye-catcher.

He would bet anything she had the freckles that usually went along with that coloring. He would also bet she had dark eyes. As for her age, he was less sure about that. He’d put her somewhere in her middle to late twenties.

Finally realizing what he was doing, Mitch let go of a stinging curse, then forced his mind off the spoiled brat who wouldn’t have cared if he took another breath.

The last thing he needed was to have anything to do with Dr. Newman’s daughter. More to the point, he didn’t want anything to do with anyone, especially a woman.

For the first time in years, he was sleeping like a baby. Using his hands, he did an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. Suddenly Mitch peered down at those large, tanned hands, which were both callused and strong, and thought again what a lucky son of a bitch he was.

When his wife, Wendy, left him and his other job became intolerable, he’d walked away in the opposite direction, leaving behind a world filled with responsibilities and sleepless nights.

Regrets?

None whatsoever.

Anything would beat what he’d done and where he’d been. Now he felt free in every sense of the word. He could grow anything, build anything, repair anything. God-given talents—all of them. And he was using them wisely. The only thing that bugged him was an occasional loneliness, a real need to touch and be touched by another human.

But that feeling didn’t come often or last long. Nope, he wouldn’t change the new direction his life had taken for a minute, nor was he about to let a woman anywhere near him, certainly not an obviously spoiled brat like Lindsay Newman.

Still, he found himself casting another glance in her direction. His stomach tightened. He had never even talked to her, for God’s sake. And yet the intensity of the attraction he felt for her was staggering. It was as if his eyes had caught sight of an unattainable “perfect” woman and a lust-adrenaline cocktail had hit him in the gut.

Well, he would just have to get over it. He was not about to self-destruct over another woman, no matter how hot he was for her.

He turned and stomped back inside his living quarters.

But even after he had slammed the door behind him, Mitch kept seeing the lovely lines of her face, something that made him mad enough to bite a ten-penny nail in two.

What was wrong with him? What was there about her that had brought about the impossible? Stirred him up? Maybe he had been alone too long. Maybe it was time to scratch this sudden itch before it got any farther out of control. Maybe he should call up an old girlfriend and enjoy a roll in the hay. Even if the lady of the manor wouldn’t be interested, he knew several who would.

Nah.

In the end, it wouldn’t be worth it. The price was too high. He would just take a cold shower, drink a cold beer, then crawl into a cold bed.

Alone.

“Still feeling better, Daddy?”

It was the evening after she had returned from her trip that she decided to pay Cooper an impromptu visit. She hadn’t seen him all day, as she’d been busy unpacking, reading through mail and returning phone calls.

Even though she knew he was okay, she couldn’t blot out the morbid trick her mind continued to play on her. She envisioned walking into her daddy’s suite and finding him on the floor, dead, just like she’d found her mother.

“I’m still fine,” he said in a gruff voice. “I wish you wouldn’t fuss so.”

“I wish you’d do like your cardiologist told you and take it easy,” she said. “Which didn’t include playing a round of golf.”

Cooper’s bushy white eyebrows drew together. “I see Dolly’s been running her mouth.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I didn’t play,” he announced in a petulant tone. “I just rode around with a friend, and I’m none the worse for it. And as you can see, I’m already in bed, though I don’t like it, mind you.”

Probably because he was without a woman beside him, Lindsay thought, recalling her conversation with her brother. Like Tim, would she ever accept the unvarnished truth that her daddy was a ladies’ man, that he had most likely been unfaithful to her mother? She doubted it. After all these years, that fact still rankled. Yet he’d never married again, which had always puzzled her. But then, she had never pretended to understand her daddy, and knew that she never would.