Midnight Under the Mistletoe (4 page)

“You’re looking at me as if I just sprouted fangs.”

She couldn’t get her breath to answer him. His eyes narrowed a
tiny fraction and his smile vanished. The look in his eyes changed,
intensifying. Her pulse drummed, a steady rhythm that was loud in her ears. “I
can’t understand your attitude.”

“Well, we’re alike to a degree there—I can’t understand yours,”
he said lightly. Again a thick silence fell and she couldn’t think about letters
or the subject of their conversation or even what he had just said. All she
thought about was his mouth only a few inches from hers. Realizing the
lust-charged moments were happening too often, she shifted and looked away,
trying to catch her breath and get back on track.

She stood and stepped away, turning to glance back. “I’ll get a
pen and paper in case I need to take notes.”

“I’ll help sort some of these,” he said, studying her with a
smoldering look.

She wanted to thank him and tell him his help wasn’t necessary.
It definitely wasn’t wanted. She needed to keep space between them. Big spaces.
This wasn’t a way to start a new assignment. She had no such attraction to men
she worked with in Dallas, or anywhere else for that matter. Why was Zach
Delaney so compelling?

It was certainly not because he was great fun or because they
had so much in common. The only similarities they had were living in Texas at
the same time in history and being connected in business to the same company.
She had to get a grip on her reactions to him.

In every way he was not the man to be attracted to. Her boss, a
world traveler, cared almost nothing for all the things that were important to
her, family most of all.

Picking up a tablet, a pen and an empty wooden tray, she
returned to her chair, pulling it slightly farther from his, but she couldn’t
move away because the basket and box to put the old documents in stood between
them. She placed the wooden tray on the floor beside her chair.

When she opened the first envelope, a faint, musty odor
emanated as she withdrew thin, yellowed pages covered in script. She read the
letter from a man who wrote about frontier life, the “beeves” he had rounded up,
and his plans to take them north to sell.

“Zach, if this is your great-great-grandfather, you should read
this letter and see what kind of life he had,” she said impulsively. “It’s
fascinating. He writes about a wagon train that came through and camped on his
land. Is that this same ranch?”

“Same identical one,” he remarked dryly, amusement in his
expression.

“Listen—‘their leader was Samuel Worthington,’” she read.
“‘Samuel asked if they could stay. He said they had traveled from Virginia and
were going west. They had lost four people in their group. The four unfortunates
drowned when they crossed a treacherous river after a rain. I gave them flour
and beef so they had fresh supplies. Worry ran high about finding water in days
to come so I drew Samuel a map of the land I know and showed him where to find
water when they left my home. They have great expectations regarding their
journey.’”

She lowered the letter to look at Zach. “I think that’s
wonderful. Don’t you feel you know a little now about your
great-great-grandfather? He was kind and generous with those travelers. I would
be so excited if these were letters written by my great-great-grandfather.”

Zach smiled at her as if facing a bubbling child. “Okay. My
great-great-grandfather was a nice guy who was good to people passing through.
That knowledge really doesn’t bring me closer because he lived years ago. It
doesn’t change the course of life. He was a rancher in the old days of the
longhorns and he had a tough life. He worked hard and was successful and built
on the land to pass that on to the next Delaney son. I don’t need to wade
through all his old letters about life on the plains in the early days.”

She tilted her head to study Zach. She was both annoyed by his
attitude and at the same time, mesmerized again by his enticing smile. “Do your
brothers feel the way you do?”

“We haven’t talked about it. I’ll ask before I shred these. I
would guess that Will might want them and Ryan will feel the same as I do.”

She shook her head. “I can’t understand your family. You must
not have been close growing up.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “When our mom walked out and
divorced Dad, he sent us away to different boarding schools. I suppose he had
some reason that seemed logical to him. We’re close in some ways, but we were
separated most of the time for a lot of years. It made a difference.”

“That’s truly dreadful.”

He smiled again and her pulse fluttered. “Don’t feel too sorry
for us. Our father spent a lot of money on us.”

“Money doesn’t make up for some things.”

“We could argue that one all night,” he said, leaning back and
placing his hands behind his head. The T-shirt stretched tautly across his broad
shoulders and his muscles flexed. As he stretched out, she could not keep from
taking one swift glance down the length of him. Feathers were holding a dance
inside her. Everything quivered and lustful thoughts flashed in her mind. She
realized silence was growing again and he watched her with a look of interest.
Her mind raced for something, trying to think where the conversation had
ended.

“Your great-great-grandfather—I wonder if any of you resemble
him.”

“You can see for yourself. In the last years of his life,
someone painted his portrait. It hangs in the library.” He put down his arms and
leaned forward. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

“You don’t need to walk there now. I assume you’re supposed to
be staying off your foot.”

“I can walk around,” he said, getting the crutch. “I go to the
doc next week and hope to get off this crutch. I’ll still be in some kind of
crazy medical shoe, but at least I may lose the crutch. C’mon. We’ll go look at
my old ancestor. I suspect he was a tough old bird. My dad was in his own way.
I’m amazed he kept the letters. He didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body
until the last couple of years of his life. Or maybe since Caroline’s birth.
That little granddaughter changed him.”

“That’s family—little children wrap around your heart.”

He gave her another big smile. “You’re sentimental, Emma.”

“I certainly am,” she replied cheerfully.

He led the way into the library that held shelves of books from
floor to ceiling. A huge portrait in a gilt frame hung above the fireplace and
she looked at a stern-faced man with prominent cheekbones, straight gray hair,
mustache and beard.

“I can’t see that you look like him in any manner at all.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” He gestured across the room.
“Over there are portraits of my paternal grandfather and my dad.”

She crossed the room. “You don’t look like them either.”

“If I have a resemblance to any forebears, it’s my maternal
grandfather. People say I look like him. I don’t see it much myself except for
the hair. No pictures of him here.”

She returned to the fireplace to study the picture, thinking
about the letter she had just read. “I’d think you’d want to read every letter
in that box.”

“I’m leaving that to you.”

She turned to find him looking at her intently, a look that was
hot and filled with desire, giving her heart palpitations. In spite of his
injured foot, he looked strong and fit. Muscled arms, broad shoulders, flat
belly. She stepped toward the door.

“We better go back and let me start reading them,” she said,
heading out of the room, aware that he fell into step beside her. “You said you
have brothers. Do they have ranches around here or do all of you gather
here?”

“Both. I’m not a rancher, so I’ve probably spent the least time
here, but we were here plenty growing up. Plenty to suit me. I’m not a cowboy
and not a rancher and my brothers can ride the horses. No, thanks. Will’s ranch
adjoins this one. Caroline loves it there, so they go quite often. Ryan’s ranch
is farther away. He’s a cowboy through and through. Maybe it’s because he spent
too much time out here with Granddad.”

“So will your brothers come here this week for Thanksgiving?”
she asked, lost in thoughts about her own family’s plans. She was taking a corn
casserole and a dessert for everyone.

“No. Ryan’s with a friend and Will and family are going to his
home in Colorado.”

“I can’t imagine not being with family, but if you’re with
close friends or a close friend and family, that works,” she said, glancing at
him to see a grin. “You’re staying out here alone, aren’t you?” she blurted,
aghast to think his brothers were going their own way and Zach had no plans. She
started to invite him to her house, but she remembered that her predecessors had
not lasted more than a few days at best on this job. If she invited him and then
he dismissed her, it would be awkward.

“You’re staring, Emma, and you have pity written all over your
face,” he said. “A new experience in my adult life. I can’t remember anyone
feeling sorry for me for any reason before.”

Heat flushed her cheeks, and she forced a faint smile, hoping
the pitying expression would vanish. They had stopped walking and were gazing at
each other. He placed a hand on her shoulder lightly. The feathery touch with
anyone else would have been impersonal, but with Zach, it was startling.

“It’s my choice,” he said. “Stop worrying.”

“Zach, you can come to our house,” she said, changing her mind
about inviting him because it was sad to think of him being alone. “My family
would be happy to have you. We’ve always invited friends who would have been
alone on Thanksgiving, so I know my family will welcome you.”

His grin widened. “Thank you for the very nice invitation, but
I rarely notice holidays and don’t celebrate them.”

“Is this a religious thing?” she asked.

“No. It’s a ‘my thing.’ As I mentioned, my brothers and I grew
up in boarding schools, and sometimes we were left there on holidays because our
folks were in Europe or heaven knows where,” he explained. While he talked, she
was acutely conscious of his hand still lightly on her shoulder. His gaze
lowered to her lips and she could barely get her breath. It took an effort to
pay attention to what he was saying. “None of us care much about holidays. Will
is changing because of Caroline and his wife, Ava. I’m usually not in the
country on Thanksgiving, but this year spending it alone here on the ranch is
what I choose to do. Thank you anyway for your invitation,” he said, turning to
walk again.

Still physically too aware of him at her side, she strolled
beside him. The hot attraction that obviously affected both of them tainted this
job. If she got to stay, could she keep their relationship impersonal? She
didn’t think it would be much of a problem.

This loner, besides being her boss, was not the man to be
attracted to. How could he possibly want to spend Thanksgiving alone? Even
though he came from enormous wealth, he must have had a cold, lonely childhood.
He seemed a solitary person who stayed out of the limelight and worked in
distant places where he was unknown. She had seen pictures of his brother in the
newspapers and in Texas magazines, but never Zach. He clearly kept a low
profile.

As they entered the office, she parted with him and went to her
desk to try to concentrate on work.

Over an hour later Zach received a phone call. She continued
with her work, but by the time half an hour had passed and he had had three
calls, she realized there must be a problem somewhere. He sat with his back to
her, his feet propped up on a nearby computer table. The room was large enough
that she couldn’t hear exactly what he said. When she caught snatches of a few
words, she guessed the language was German.

She worked until five to get everything done he had given her.
He was still engrossed in phone calls when she shut off her computers and left
the room. In her room, she spent over an hour reading and replying to emails
from family and close friends before going to the kitchen for dinner.

Thinking of the loner in the office the entire time.

* * *

Lowering his feet Zach had swiveled in his chair and
watched Emma leave the room, but his many phone calls had demanded his focus.
Now, he glanced down at a letter on his desk she had typed. “I’ll make the call
at 8:00 in the morning your time and see if we can’t get this worked out
quickly,” he said into the phone. “Right, Todd. I’ll let you know. It’s too late
there to call anyone now.” He replaced the receiver, glanced at his watch and
sighed.

His cell phone indicated a call and he answered because it was
Will.

“Can you talk now?” Will asked.

“Yes. We’ve had problems on a job and I’ve been on and off the
phone for the past two hours.”

“I’ve gotten a busy signal once. How’s it going with the new
secretary or is it too early to tell?”

Zach glanced again at the letter on the desk. “She’s a good
secretary. I don’t think she’ll last though. She’s totally wound into her family
in Dallas, which is several hours away from here, probably too far. They live,
breathe, eat and stay together most of the time.”

“Just say the word and I’ll get someone else sent out.”

“Not yet,” Zach said, thinking about Emma’s green eyes. “She’s
efficient. She’s sentimental—you’d think these old letters were worth a million
the way she views them. She can’t keep from telling me I shouldn’t shred
them.”

Will laughed. “Another one telling you what to do?”

“No, not like the first one. Emma’s just so into families, she
can’t understand that I’m not treasuring every word from our ancestor. He was
probably a tough old guy, even tougher than Dad. Why would I treasure every word
he uttered?”

“You’re a little more irreverent than most descendants would
be. I’m a little curious about them, so I want to read a few and see what’s in
those boxes.”