Read Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) Online
Authors: Kimberly Raye
Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) (9 page)
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She tried to concentrate, but talking with Stella had stirred Tyler’s image. And sitting in his chair, the scent of leather and male surrounding her, didn’t help matters.
Bolting to her feet, she walked over to the broken movie projector. She busied herself putting the pieces that didn’t require a screwdriver back together. Still, the task wasn’t distracting enough.
Her nerves tingled as she remembered Tyler’s soft but firm touch against her breast. Okay, so he was interested, despite what she’d told Stella. But only because Lucky was the only available female for miles.
She was practice. A convenient substitute for some gorgeous, well-endowed socialite. One who didn’t put on her shirt backward and could tap-dance “Yankee Doodle” in four-inch stiletto heels without missing a step.
The realization gave her an ill feeling inside, but she forced it away. Forget the whys. Tyler was directing some attention toward her and she was determined to make the most of it. To flirt back and sharpen her own skills so when she returned to Houston, she could do some serious manhunting, she reminded herself.
“That projector is a lost cause,” Tyler said, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Nothing is a lost cause.” She fit another piece into place then rubbed her hands together. “You haven’t seen me with a screwdriver and a wrench.”
“You’ll have to settle for a fork and a knife.” He motioned her to follow him. “Let’s go.”
“What do you mean and where are we going?”
“Helen’s taking a bubble bath, so we’re taking advantage of the time. Nanny lesson number one, you can’t stare at me all through dinner.” He led her into the dining room where she found two complete plate settings with enough silver to kill a dozen werewolves. “There’s a reason and a purpose for every fork, knife and spoon,” he said.
“But I’ve been reading all day about wine-tasting.”
“That’ll come later. This is the most urgent. This and your appearance.” His gaze traveled over her face. “Didn’t Earline show you any makeup techniques?”
“I like the natural look.” Liar. She’d tried for half an hour to duplicate Earline’s eye-makeup technique, and had wound up looking like a circus clown. “I think I might need an extra lesson. I’ve never really been into makeup. It’s hard work.”
“Mabel can help you. But first things first.” He indicated the lavishly laid table.
They started with napkins—the hows, whens and wheres of using them. Then Tyler went through a detailed description of each piece of silverware, and an hour later, Lucky had the headache of her life.
“You’re not paying me enough for this.” She stifled a yawn. “It’s after ten on a Saturday night. I should be getting double-time.”
“Think of this as a bonus, not work. You’ll be wiser, more socially acceptable. Don’t you want to improve yourself? Be a more well-rounded woman?”
Woman. He certainly had a way with words. And gazes. Hungry gazes. Yes, he had the hunger part down pat.
And as for well-rounded... Well, she really wouldn’t mind a certain duo being better rounded.
“Okay, so maybe it isn’t so bad that I’m learning this stuff.” She chewed her bottom lip, a habit she’d picked up over the past twenty-four hours while she was on a gum fast, and studied the place setting. Carefully, she picked up each utensil and repeated what he’d told her. “And bottom line,” she finished, “you start at the outside and work your way in.”
“Good.” The smile he gave her was more than good. It was great, and worth the heavy-metal drum solo beating inside her head. Definitely worth it.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lucky began.
“Yes?”
“How did you learn to kiss so good? I mean, I’d like to learn, and if there’s a school that produces great kissers, I’d be really interested in enrolling.”
He stared at her incredulously. “You want to learn how to kiss? You have to be kidding? That kiss...” He shook his head. “I think you’ve got kissing down pat.”
“Me? Really?” She brightened. “You think I’m a good kisser? Why? What was it I did? I need specifics.”
“Are you serious? You’re serious.” He shook his head. “Look, Lucky.” He took a deep breath and she saw the muscles in his arms tighten. “That kiss last night... It shouldn’t have happened. You and I have to work together. I’m your boss and you’re my nanny. Besides that, we’re worlds apart and I don’t have room in my life for a woman. I’ve got my daughter to think of, and this ranch and my father... Aw, hell.” He leaned forward and captured her lips with his.
Before Lucky knew what was happening, she was in his arms, sitting on his lap, caught in a deep, urgent kiss that sent her senses reeling. Geez, he had great lips. Ah, and a wonderful tongue. He stroked and coaxed and took her breath away, and though she’d promised herself to stay alert and note every nuance for future reference, she couldn’t think, much less document Tyler’s incredible technique.
He swept her away with his mouth, his hands. His fingers stroked the length of her spine, fitting her against him. Soft female curves to hard male muscle. He felt wonderful. Strong. Hard...
“Tyler, boy, is that you?”
Lucky and Tyler jerked apart at the sound of Ulysses’s voice. Lucky scrambled from Tyler’s lap, wiping at her lips, her gaze fixed on tall, dark and gorgeous Tyler Grant. He looked stunned, shocked at what had just happened.
“Son?” Tyler’s father stood in the doorway, wearing his bathrobe. The bandages were off now, both eyes red and nearly swollen shut. “I can’t see a dadblasted thing.” Ulysses groped his way into the room and sank into a chair. “Those damn city doctors.”
Lucky took deep breaths and tried not to look at Tyler. Not with his father right there.
“Dad, the doctor said to relax. It’ll take a few more days for the swelling to subside and for your eyes to adjust to the light. Then, hopefully, your vision will start to return to normal.”
“Normal? Hell, I’d be happy with shapes, a few splotches of bright light—somethin’ to show me the dadburned surgery actually worked!” He waved his hands in front of him. “You don’t know what it’s like, boy. A man like me’s used to fendin’ for himself. It ain’t natural for me to be stumblin’ around.” He felt on the table next to him and grabbed a bowl of potpourri. “So this is where I left my popcorn.” Ulysses scooped a handful and prepared to shove it into his mouth.
“Dad!” Tyler grabbed his father’s hand.
“What? Now I can’t have popcorn? You been talkin’ to that doctor about my dadbumed cholesterol level again?”
“Dad, this isn’t popcorn.”
“’Course it is.” He tugged at the bowl, but Tyler was stronger. He placed the bowl out of Ulysses’s reach.
“Come on, Dad. It’s late. Let me help you back to bed.”
“I’ve been in that bed for hours, boy. My back’s aching. ’Sides, I could use a little snack. What in blue blazes are you doing?”
“Having a...um, a talk with Miss Myers. She’ll be replacing—”
“That dadbumed thief! Hot damn, boy, didn’t you learn your lesson? You can’t trust women like her.”
“Ulysses, here you are.” Mabel came up behind Tyler’s father. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Come on out to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
The old man patted Mabel’s hand. “With the little pickles?”
“A whole jar of them,” she assured him.
“Lock up your personals, son,” Ulysses muttered as he let Mabel help him up and usher him toward the door. “And watch your back.”
Lucky shook her head as Ulysses and Mabel made their way down the hall. “Your father doesn’t exactly like me.”
“It isn’t you. It’s your type.”
“He doesn’t like cabdrivers?”
“No, he doesn’t like the type of woman he thinks you are—a fortune hunter, just like the nanny who ripped me off. Dad doesn’t take too kindly to women only interested in a man’s money, whether she wants to marry him or rip him off, or both. Give him a few days and I’m sure he’ll mellow.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Tyler smiled. “I’ll give Hank a call and we’ll borrow his bulletproof vest.”
8
“I
SEE YOU’RE FEELING better today.” Helen’s gaze roved over Lucky when she arrived for breakfast the following morning.
SEE YOU’RE FEELING better today.” Helen’s gaze roved over Lucky when she arrived for breakfast the following morning.
“A good night’s sleep will do wonders.” Tyler followed her, looking refreshed and sexy and too damned wide-awake in a red plaid shirt and faded jeans, his damp hair looking deliciously messy.
“Actually, I do feel better.” Lucky ignored the urge to touch one damp tendril near his freshly shaven jaw. Instead, she slid into the seat next to Bennie.
“I thought,” Tyler said to Helen as he poured syrup onto his pancakes, “we’d take a little look around the ranch after breakfast. Jed is covering for me this morning, so I’ve got a few hours. How does that sound?”
“Stimulating, dear, but I’m afraid I have other plans.” Her gaze locked with Lucky’s. “Miss Myers and I have a date to get to know each other better. Did you know that Bernadette will be the fifth-generation Bell to attend Smithston?”
“That little filly isn’t a Bell, she’s a Grant,” Tyler’s father said as he felt his way, with Mabel’s assistance, to his seat. “And she’s staying right here. This is her home.”
“Your
home.” Helen turned to Bennie who was busy slathering her pancakes in butter-pecan syrup. “Dear, that’s terrible for your heart and your hips.”
home.” Helen turned to Bennie who was busy slathering her pancakes in butter-pecan syrup. “Dear, that’s terrible for your heart and your hips.”
“I don’t have any hips.”
“Keep eating this figure-poisoning food and you’ll have more than one pair, I guarantee it. Isn’t that right, Miss Myers?”
“Not necessarily,” Lucky replied. “It’s all a matter of metabolism.”
“Nonsense.” Helen placed the syrup out of Bennie’s reach.
“It’s a proven scientific fact. I picked up this doctor once—er, met this doctor once, a friend of Mr. Stinson’s...a Scottish friend. Anyhow, he’d done a huge amount of research on the subject. Metabolism is everything.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” Helen said, “but there’s no way for Bernadette to know what sort of metabolism she has without eating like a horse and seeing Where the pounds do or do not accumulate. And if they do accumulate somewhere, primarily the hips, darling, because Merle’s family is definitely a hip family, then it’s virtually too late to do anything about it.” She patted Bennie’s hand. “You don’t want to be a fat debutante, dear.”
“If Grandfather comes from a big-hip family, what do you come from?” Bennie asked around a syrup-drenched pancake.
“A big-mouth family,” Ulysses piped in. Tyler nearly choked on his pancakes. Bernadette giggled and Lucky fought to keep from smiling.
“I see you’re feeling better, too,” Helen told Ulysses.
“Never felt better in my life...er, that is, if my dadburned eyes weren’t giving me so much trouble.” He blinked the dadburned eyes in question, still red and swollen to little more than slits. “It’s a good thing Tyler came home. I’d be lost without the boy.”
“I’m sure you could make do just fine with a hired hand.”
Ulysses poured syrup over his pancakes. “I could make do just fine if you minded your own business.”
“Well, I never...”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ulysses grumbled.
“Why, you... you insulting old goat! You make it impossible to carry on a civil conversation.”
“Ain’t nothin’ civil about a stuck-up city gal buttin’ into my business.”
“Neanderthal,” Helen huffed.
“Fund-raisin’ fruitcake.”
“Stubborn peasant.”
“Rich bi—”
“Enough!” Tyler took a deep breath and glared at Ulysses. “Dad, you promised to be nice and this isn’t the sort of conversation Bernadette needs to hear.” He turned to his mother-in-law. “This...petty name-calling is beneath you, Helen.”
Helen, as graceful as ever, sniffed and adjusted her napkin. “Of course, dear, it’s just that he...he’s so infuriating.”
“And she sticks in my craw, boy.”
“I don’t stick anywhere on your person, least of all your craw. Whatever that is.”
“What’s a craw, Granddaddy?” Bennie stared hopefully at Ulysses.
“Well, darlin’, you see, it’s—”
“Not a fit topic for a young lady to be discussing at Sunday morning breakfast,” Tyler cut in. “Can we eat, please?”
Ulysses shrugged. “Ask her. She’s the one from the big-mouth family.”
“That’s big hip, Granddaddy,” Bennie corrected.
“That’s Merle’s family.” Helen frowned. “And for everyone’s information, there are absolutely no ill traits in my family. The Bells are a result of good, pure breeding for over six generations, clear back to English royalty.”
“I don’t know, Helen.” Ulysses wiped a dribble of syrup at the corner of his mouth. “Last I remember, you had a little extra baggage hangin’ around them hips of yours.”
“Where’s my butter knife?” Helen growled. “I’ll show you extra baggage, you —”
Ulysses threw down his napkin and staggered to his feet. “Get my shotgun, boy, and let’s put the old girl out of her misery!”
“Old girl?” Helen was on her feet, hands on hips, glaring.
“Call ’em like I see ’em.”
“And you can’t see an inch in front of your face.”
“This round’s over,” Tyler announced. “Everyone back to their corners.” Helen sat down, and Ulysses excused himself and let Mabel help him back to his room.
Lucky couldn’t help staring. Angry and frustrated, Tyler still looked good. So tall and muscular and delicious she was ready to chuck the pancakes and have him for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner.
He was every bit the cowboy this morning, with faded jeans that had been washed so many times they looked nearly white. They molded to the lean length of his legs. Scuffed brown boots peeked from the frayed hem. His shirt hugged his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms sprinkled with dark hair. He wasn’t wearing his faded cowboy hat, but Lucky could picture it on his head, shielding his blue eyes and shadowed jaw.
She sighed, her lips still tingling from last night’s kiss.
“Are you feeling okay?” Tyler’s voice penetrated her thoughts and she sat up straighter. “I know all this carrying on so early is upsetting.”
“I’m fine.”
“Because you look a little...peaked,” he finally said, his eyes assessing her flaming cheeks.
“I feel great.” She ate another forkful of pancakes and Tyler turned to Helen.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see the rest of Reata?”
“And miss my talk with Miss Myers? Not on your life, Tyler. You run along and do whatever it is you do around here.”
“Math right after breakfast,” Tyler told Bennie.
“But it’s Sunday —”
“And you still haven’t finished your lesson from Friday.”
“But I want Grandmother to teach me how to fight like she did with Granddaddy.”
“Bennie, honey, fighting’s not very ladylike,” Tyler said.
“That’s right.” Helen patted her granddaughter’s hand. “Ladies disagree, they don’t fight.”
“Then can I learn how to disagree?” She cast hopeful eyes at Tyler.
“Math,” he said, but despite his I-ain’t-taking-no-bull expression, there was a softness in his eyes. “Then practice your piano.” Bennie made a face and Tyler winked before striding out of the dining room. A few minutes later, Bennie ate the last of her pancakes, and Lucky was left to face the Big Bad Mother-in-law on her own.
“So,” Helen declared. “What do you say we find someplace more comfortable and have our little talk?”
“I —”
“Excuse me,” Mabel said, appearing in the doorway. She gestured toward Helen. “You’ve got a phone call. They said something about the Ritz-Carlton withdrawing their offer for your fund-raiser or something like that.”
“Oh no.” Helen jumped up and rushed out before Lucky could swallow the last of her food.
Mabel moved forward and started clearing away the breakfast dishes. “My advice is to get while the getting is good.”
“I’m out of here.” Lucky got to her feet, hightailed it through the kitchen and out the back door. Outside was better. Plenty of places to hide from Helen if the need arose.
“You’re still in one piece. I guess Helen didn’t get much of a chance to talk.” Tyler’s voice drew her around the side of the house. He stood in front of the barn, saddling the beautiful black horse she’d seen him riding down by the river. “Let me guess, she’s on the phone about her gala.”
“Good guess.”
He gave her a slow smile and Lucky knew there was no guessing involved. Somehow he was behind the sudden fund-raiser upset. Good-looking and clever. She was in deep trouble.
“It could take a while,” he went on. “Once she starts in with her high-society friends, she can talk for hours, and this latest setback should keep her busy for a long time.” He fastened a strap, gripped the saddle horn and swung himself onto the horse.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got work to do.”
“But you can’t just leave me here to twiddle my thumbs. What am I supposed to do for the next few hours?”
“Sneak back into your room and read the books I gave you.”
“Are we having a pop quiz tonight?”
He grinned. “Maybe.”
“With a bonus like the one last night?”
He frowned. “About last night...”
“It was a mistake. I’m your employee. You’re my boss.”
“Exactly. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“You keep saying that, but then you keep kissing me.”
“Only twice.”
She grinned. “Third time’s a charm.”
“There won’t be a third time. Come on, Lucky. Have a heart. I don’t need this...you and me and this...thing between us. I’ve got responsibilities.”
Her grin turned to full-blown smile. “We have a
thing
between us?”
thing
between us?”
“Damn, you’re good.”
“At what?”
He shook his head. “You’re good, but I’m not falling for it, sweetheart. I can’t. If you’ve got any smarts in that pretty head of yours, you’ll leave well enough alone, stop trying to play me and concentrate on collecting your money.”
“I’m playing you? How?”
He growled. “Study.” Then he steered the horse around.
She watched him gallop away a few seconds later, her gaze straying from his broad shoulders to his tush sitting in the saddle, to the muscular thighs gripping the horse.
It wasn’t a sight for the faint of heart, or the sexually deprived, and she had to literally force her gaze away.
Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of him riding the horse that stayed in her mind. She kept picturing him by the breakfast table, that warm smile on his face as he stared down at his daughter.
The Texas heat, she told herself. She was getting punchy again, because who in their right mind would trade such a great image of buns for a scene out of “Father Knows Best”?
Not her, not with him. Tyler Grant wasn’t viable husband material. But playing him... Now there was an intriguing thought.
With a smile on her face, Lucky started toward the house. She came to a jarring halt when she spotted Ulysses. He’d taken up residence in a rocker on the back porch. His cane sat across his knees, his hands gripping the chair arms.
Relax, she told herself. The man is as blind as Tyler is gorgeous. Just put one foot in front of the other and sneak by him. Easy. She took a deep breath and forced her legs to move, slowly, cautiously. She stepped onto the porch and headed for the doorway. Ulysses rocked back and forth a few feet to the right, mindless of her presence. She smiled. Piece of cake. Like taking candy from a baby—
Ulysses smacked his cane down to block her path. Lucky stumbled. “Got you!” he declared.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Lucky grabbed at a porch post to regain her balance.
“Hush up and listen good.” He pointed his cane at her. “I know your type, girlie, and don’t you forget it.”
“You know the unsophisticated, grease-monkey, Chicago-born-and-bred taxi-driver type?”
“Gold digger,” Ulysses muttered. “Come runnin’ out here to my ranch, flauntin’ yourself to catch my boy and get your hands on his money, but I see right through them man-killer ways of yours, gal. A cab-driving nanny... Hah! A front, I tell you, and a damned poor one. But you mark my words, my boy sees right through you. He’s known a lot of women like you, all tried to catch him, but not a one of ’em ever did. Married himself a gal with her own money. Lots of it.” Ulysses poked at her with his cane. “That’s it, ain’t it? That’s what brought you out here, ain’t it? Now he’s got double the money, so’s you’re thinkin’ to really cash in. Admit it, gal!”
Ulysses shoved the cane at her again, and Lucky barely resisted the urge to crack the blasted wood over his head. He was old and blind and obviously clueless. She was fairly sure God wouldn’t let someone into heaven after she’d beat up on an old, helpless, blind man, no matter how provoking.
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