Rich, Rugged...Ruthless Page 7

  Wearing jeans, he shrugged into a shirt, but it remained unbuttoned. After wiggling his feet into deck shoes, he left the bedroom. From the top of the stairs, he heard movement below. The slam of a door, the quickness of footsteps. He expected to see Sam when he reached the kitchen. He saw the housekeeper instead.

  Around thirty-something with brown hair drawn back and held at the nape of the neck by a clip, Louise sent him a sheepish look that made Max mentally grimace. She was a sweet thing. Shy, Samantha had told him. And afraid of him, Max surmised. This wouldn’t do, not at all. He looked for a way to break the ice between them. “That smells good,” he said about the cake cooling on a rack.

  Louise returned a token smile.

  “I thought you only kept house?”

  “I— Samantha said I could bake it during my break.”

  As her voice grew anxious, Max held up a hand. “Whoa. It’s okay if you’re in here. Whatever Samantha said is okay.”

  Her smile widened slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Who’s the cake for?”

  “For Martin. For his birthday. I wanted to make a cake but wouldn’t have had time when I got home.”

  Max delivered his best smile to relax her. “Is Martin a relative?”

  “He’s—” She pointed toward the window. Outside the gardener was pulling weeds from a flower bed. “Martin is the gardener.”

  Right. Now Max remembered Samantha telling him about their affair. Why had he opposed their relationship?

  The thought troubled him. How heartless had he been? he wondered. He left Louise to ice the cake with chocolate frosting, and searched for Sam. Earlier this morning, from his bedroom window, he’d caught a glimpse of her jogging into the nearby woods. He couldn’t say what had grabbed his attention more, the neon-green baseball cap or the snug fit of her jeans.

  Stepping outside, he found her at the pool, looking like some sea nymph as she cut through the clear water with smooth, fluid strokes. She swam with the same kind of endless energy she used to move around the house. After a dozen laps, she lifted herself onto the cool deck and tossed back slick-looking hair. She was wearing a two-piece yellow suit that shifted his imagination into high gear. When she slanted a look his way, water streamed down her throat, caressed the flesh at the shadowed vee of her breasts. Sunlight played across her wet skin, shone on her hair. She made him think of mermaids.

  “Hi. I thought I’d let you sleep.” She stretched for a peach-colored terry robe on a nearby chaise longue. “Are you ready to shower now?”

  “There’s no hurry.”

  She wrapped herself in the robe. “Did you know you have a pool man?”

  Max dropped onto one of the patio chairs. He realized they were going to pretend nothing had happened yesterday. For now, because he wasn’t sure what direction he wanted to take in their relationship, he followed her lead. “I seem to have a truckload of servants. Like Louise.” He eyed the thin, slightly balding man who’d finished weeding and was trimming a bush. “And Martin.”

  “There’s José, too.” She shook her wet hair away from her face. “He’s the pool man. He comes once a week. And Gibson, your butler.”

  “Don’t know him.”

  “You might remember him when he returns from his vacation. He’d taken a Caribbean cruise and is now visiting relatives in England. But if Mr. Montgomery needed him, he would return immediately.” She grinned. “That’s what he said. Rachel called him back and told him that a private nurse had been hired so he could finish out his vacation. And Foster, the chauffeur, returned, too. He lives in the apartment above the garage.”

  During a stroll around the property, Max had noticed the limo parked in the three-car garage. “What else did you learn about him?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you think I did?”

  “You did.” He believed she would talk to a tree if no one was around.

  “Are you casting aspersions about my gift for gab?”

  Max barely held back a laugh at her quaint way of saying she prattled. “Well, did you learn more?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I did. His name is Evan Foster. He retired from the military three years ago, then decided he needed to work. He’d been visiting friends in Seattle while you were in the hospital.”

  For a long moment Max studied her. He would like to forget anyone else existed. It suddenly occurred to him what the kiss had really done. No longer could he think of her as an employee. No longer was she just his nurse.

  Hearing the quick click of heels behind him, he turned to see Louise. A man behind her showed impatience. Tall and slightly overweight, he had medium brown hair and a round face. Wearing an expensive suit and shoes, he stepped around Louise instead of waiting to be announced. “Hey, good buddy. Someone said you conked yourself good on the head.”

  Before he reached them, Sam was standing. “Excuse me. I need to change.” She looked from Max to the man. “Enjoy your visit.”

  “Merv Talbot,” he said, and turned on the charm. “You don’t have to leave on my account.” He offered her a hand. “You look familiar.”

  Max had no choice except to make the introduction. “Samantha Carter.” He had no idea who Merv “Good Buddy” Talbot was. But he didn’t like the way Talbot watched her until she disappeared. Crazy or not, Max felt like taking a poke at him.

  “She’s familiar,” Talbot said with more certainty.

  “She’s my private nurse. Been in town for five years.”

  “No. I’ve seen her somewhere else.” He looked around him. “Isn’t that cook here anymore? I could use a cup of coffee.”

  “She left,” Max said, though unsure who Talbot was talking about.

  “Never mind.” He dropped to an adjacent chair and gave Max an assessing look. “I would have visited when you were in the hospital, but I’ve been handling commercial property in Bozeman.”

  “This isn’t easy, but how do I know you?” Max finally asked.

  “How do you— Oh, damn. I’m a Realtor.” He beamed, widening his face. “The Realtor in town,” he corrected, exhibiting no modesty. “We’ve been friends for years. I came to see if you were able to go on our fishing trip.” He motioned toward Max’s arm in the cast. “Guess not.”

  “Hardly,” Max returned. “Where were we going?”

  “Where were we— Oh, yeah. You don’t remember, do you? We’d planned to spend a week in Deadman’s Basin, catch some rainbow trout. You, me, and my brother-in-law Alan.” His voice trailed off. “I remember now. I told you she looked familiar. You said her name was Carter? Nevich told me about her.”

  “Nevich?”

  “Raymond Nevich is a lawyer in Big Timber. She was there caring for someone,” he said, shifting conversation back to Samantha. “That’s when Ray remembered her. He visited his sister who lived in Lubbock, Texas. Nevich said he remembered his sister telling him about her neighbors. His sister lived in a trailer court and next door was a woman and her daughter. Sammi was the daughter’s name. The girl was a real looker. That she is.” Talbot winked at Max. “She may be a nurse now, but she used to dance topless at some club. What was the name of it?” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “I remember. The Cottontail Club.”

  In the next breath, he rattled on about the great fishing Max would miss. Max could have cared less. He was glad to see Talbot leave. In fairness to him, Max excused his dislike of the man to his mood, and Talbot’s tale about Sam.

  It was rare for Sam to laze around even on her day off, but this morning an edgy mood nagged at her. Romance hadn’t been part of her plans when she’d taken this job. She wasn’t supposed to get involved with a patient. Oh, she’d heard of other private nurses who’d gone to a job and had found love. Only Sam had always viewed love like a brass ring—just out of her reach. She’d also concluded that the attraction between her and Max had nothing to do with love. Lust, most likely.

  Still, a trace of Teresa Carter’s little girl existed, the one who’d grown up around a wo
man so inclined toward fantasies of Prince Charming that the nightly bedtime story had been Cinderella. Sam doubted she’d ever free herself of the young girl who’d been raised on her mother’s dream of forever love and happily-ever-after.

  While she’d dressed, she’d debated about what to do next. She and Max had developed a routine of sorts. Though she assisted him with the buttons on his shirts and the ties on his shoes, he bathed himself now with the help of a long-handled shower brush.

  Since Talbot’s visit, Max had been quieter than usual. Sam had helped him dress, then left him alone. She couldn’t make him tell her what was troubling him. But she was grateful he’d decided not to make an issue of the kiss. That suited her. It would be best if they both forgot about it.

  At noon, she sought him out. On the patio, he appeared engrossed in a book. When Sam mentioned lunch, he said he wasn’t hungry.

  Sam frowned with concern for him, and strolled toward the kitchen. Perhaps they’d both been cooped up too long and needed to get out. But what should they do? Alone, she’d visit friends or go to a movie. What was his social life? Since he couldn’t tell her, she had to rely on Rachel for answers.

  The phone call to her wasn’t enlightening.

  “He works,” Rachel said.

  Sam couldn’t believe that was all he did. “He has a tennis court. Who did he play with?” Though he couldn’t resume the sport, with Rachel’s answer, she would at least learn the name of a friend.

  “Max preferred handball. The previous owner had the tennis court.”

  “Rachel, I thought we’d visit friends or neighbors of his,” she said to explain the reason for her questions.

  “Good luck, Sam. I don’t think he really knows his neighbors. He usually kept to himself.”

  Sam planned to change that. Socializing was good for the soul. People needed people. She laughed. That sounded like lyrics from an old Barbra Streisand song. But it was the truth.

  With plans for time away from the house cemented in her mind, she joined Louise in the kitchen and made crab salad for lunch. She shared it with Louise and Martin, and when finished, they spent the rest of lunchtime playing gin rummy.

  Leaving them just before one, Sam headed for the den and the big-screen TV to watch the baseball game. Though unsure, because of Max’s mood, if he would join her for the game, she’d popped enough popcorn for both of them.

  Max couldn’t remember a word he’d read. He looked at letters and turned pages, but thoughts of a certain redhead had teased his mind. Because of Talbot, he’d grown more curious about her. Actually that was her fault. Because she tended to not talk about herself, he wanted to know more. But did he have a right? Plain and simple, her past was not his business. With that thought, he entered the den to join her for the baseball game.

  “This player is a sucker for an inside pitch,” she announced brightly when he neared the sectional sofa.

  She looked adorable wearing a fielder’s cap, a yellow T-shirt and skintight jeans that molded to her long, slender legs, making any man drool. Before he did, he zeroed in on the men on the playing field, and dropped to a cushion on the opposite end of the sofa. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He accepted a bowl overflowing with popcorn from her and shoved a handful into his mouth. “He’s their heavy hitter,” he mumbled. “He smacked three homers in another game a few months ago.”

  “A memory came back?” Looking interested, she shifted toward him on the sofa cushion.

  He couldn’t be thrilled. “Hardly an earth-shattering one,” he said with the disgust he felt over such trivial remembrances.

  “Any one is important.”

  He disagreed but didn’t argue.

  “He’s going to strike out,” she predicted. With the pitcher’s wind-up, she glued her eyes to the television screen. When the batter swung hard and missed, she groaned. “Told you. Did you see that? He’s an easy out,” she insisted, propping those incredible legs on the coffee table and crossing her bare feet at the ankles.

  She was cute but wrong. Max snorted and dragged his gaze from her. On the television screen, the batter dug his feet into the dirt, swung at a pitch and missed.

  “Okay, make a bet,” she challenged.

  She was more entertaining than the baseball game, he decided. “What bet?”

  “If I’m right, you do what I want to do.” She glanced back at the television. “Come on.” She rushed him for an answer before the next pitch. “Yes or no?”

  “What do I get?” he asked, not about to be hurried.

  Sam didn’t miss the devilish glint in his eyes. “Watch,” she said rather smugly. The pitcher wound up, took a long stride forward and released the ball. It spun hard, and as it crossed the plate, it curved. The batter practically drilled himself into the ground for a third out. “Told you. He’s out.”

  He was impressed. “Okay, how did you know that?”

  Her eyes sparkling, she appeared tempted to gloat. “He’s been in a slump for the past month. He has the highest statistic for strike-outs on his team.”

  “How could I know that? I’ve been in the hospital.”

  “You had a television.”

  “I didn’t watch it,” he came back quickly. “You should forfeit.”

  Sam laughed. “Sore loser.”

  No, he hadn’t been a loser. He’d enjoyed the afternoon with her. Later, while sitting alone, he couldn’t deny he felt different, unbelievably good-humored, as if all was right in the world when he was with her. Crazy thinking. He honestly hadn’t thought he wanted to know her better. What was the point in having feelings for a woman who wasn’t supposed to be part of his life?

  With the sound of footsteps on the gleaming foyer floor, he brought himself back to his surroundings. Since Louise, the housekeeper, plodded with heavier steps, he ambled to the doorway to see where Samantha was going.

  Sunglasses on, she lugged a half-filled bucket of soapy water toward the door.

  “What are you planning now?” Max asked before she reached the door.

  Startled, she jerked to a stop and whipped around. Her eyes darted to the bucket and the sloshing water. “You nearly scared me to death.” With the back of her hand, she brushed away strands of hair not tucked under the green baseball cap. “My heart’s still in my throat.” She eyed the bucket again. “I was planning to wash my car.”

  “It needs more than a wash.” He hadn’t been impressed with the dark blue, four-wheel-drive vehicle. Some rust had begun at the rocker panels.

  In a regal manner, she nudged the sunglasses to the bridge of her nose and peered over the rim at him. “It’s more dependable than some people. It got me through a blizzard to reach a woman in labor,” she told him. “And it made the trip down a back road so I could join a rescue team after a flood.” Obviously not as offended as she’d seemed, she laughed. “Though it was a jostling ride over some of the deepest ruts I’ve ever seen. And it even hauled a brand-new heifer to the vet’s for a neighbor boy.”

  Max stared at her in amazement. What she didn’t say mattered more. She’d weathered that blizzard and the flood to help others. She’d shown compassion and caring for a boy worrying about his farm animal.

  “It’s really looking dirty since the last rain.” She squinted toward the window. “What time is Edna coming?”

  He’d forgotten. “Soon.”

  “Well, enjoy your visit,” she said, starting toward the door.

  He wandered into the living room and stilled beside the piano. Out the window, he watched her slop a large, soapy sponge across the hood of the car. When she bent forward across it, he was left with a maddening but delectable view of her trim, tight backside in the snug jeans.

  Questions again plagued him. She had the body for exotic dancing. With that bubbly personality, she belonged in a hub of excitement, should have been a dancer or a cocktail waitress or a casino dealer.

  A dancer. Had she been one? He swore at himself and ended his preoccupation with her, especi
ally that cute little backside, before he drove himself crazy. Scanning the keyboard, he placed a finger on a key. “Middle C.” He touched another. “B flat.” Caught up in the sounds, he let his fingers dance over more keys. A melody developed. Something sultry and soft called “Deep Purple.”

  Pleasure skimming through him, he smiled with the personal enjoyment and the new knowledge that he could play the piano and liked rhythm and blues.

  “Pretty.” Sam’s voice made him look up. “Edna is here,” she called from the doorway. “I’ll be upstairs. I need to shower.”

  She whirled away to let Edna step inside.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Montgomery.”

  Max eyed the stack of manila folders in her arms.

  “As you requested, I brought the foreclosures you’d been working on before the accident.”

  “All of those?”

  “These have mortgages that haven’t been paid in five or six months.” She lifted one folder. “The day of the accident you had an appointment with Dwayne Melrose.”

  Power. There was a lot of power in his job. He could destroy lives, take away homes. “Edna, please sit down.” He gestured to a wing-armed, brown leather chair beside the desk. While she took a seat and set the folders on his desk, he settled on the chair behind it. “Because of the amnesia, you’re going to have to help me. Who is Dwayne Melrose? Tell me about him.”

  Briefly puzzlement knitted her brows. If she had questions, she didn’t ask them. “Dwayne’s a third generation rancher. The land was passed down from his grandfather to his father to him.”

  “Not exactly a fly-by-night type.”

  A slim smile widened her face. “Dwayne Melrose, and his wife Emily are church-going, civic-minded people. If someone needs help with a barn-raising or a fund-raiser, Dwayne, his wife and kids are there.”

  “Then what happened that he didn’t make payments?”

  “Dwayne got sick. His boys, Craig and Larry, came to help after they were done with their work shifts, but without someone to do the work full-time—well…”