Merideth lifted her chin. “Certainly not.” She adjusted the band of emerald-cut diamonds on her finger, a gift from one of those men, a millimeter to the left. She smiled smugly. “But then, I have much higher standards than John Lee Carter.”
John Lee shifted uncomfortably in his Porsche’s leather bucket seat, trying his best to find some more room for his cramped legs. He bit back a curse, the pain in his knee threatening his usual good mood. Six hours spent at his desk updating the ranch’s ledgers, and another four spent on horseback scaring up strays from the brush had left him stiff-legged and crankier than a two-year-old in desperate need of a nap. By the time he’d made it back to the house to get cleaned up for his date with Merideth, his knee was swollen and throbbing like a bitch in heat.
Damn that three-hundred-pound ape of a defensive guard who clipped me just below the knees, he cursed silently. Five minutes, he told himself. Five minutes alone with him and John Lee would make that son of a bitch pay for prematurely ending his football career and for the pain he’d live with for the rest of his life.
The pain was so intense, he’d considered calling Merideth to cancel his invitation for dinner and soaking in his whirlpool instead. But then he remembered how much she needed his help...and how much he needed hers.
He stole a look at the passenger seat where Merideth sat, her elbow propped on the edge of the open window, her eyes shaded by dark sunglasses while the wind played havoc with her hair. Maybe he should have canceled, he thought belatedly. Dealing with Merideth was always tough and tonight he really didn’t feel up to the challenge.
Too late now, though, he told himself as his ranch house came into view. With a sigh, he pulled the Porsche up in front of his home and climbed out, then had to wait a second before he was sure his knee was going to support him. “Damn car,” he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door behind him. “No bigger than a matchbox. I ought to sell the damn thing and buy me something with some size to it.”
Merideth tipped down the visor and studied her face in the lighted vanity mirror placed there. She touched the tips of her middle finger and thumb to the corners of her mouth and drew them together, blotting her lipstick. “Why don’t you?” she asked, turning to him.
“Because I like it,” John Lee snapped disagreeably, then headed for the front door of his home.
Merideth frowned at his back. And wasn’t this just her luck? It looked as if she was condemned to spending an evening with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The man who’d teased and laughed and taunted her that very afternoon, was gone and she was left with this scowling, grumpy-faced bear. With a sigh she sank back against the seat.
When he realized she wasn’t following him, he stopped and half turned. “Well?” he asked impatiently. “Are you coming or not?”
Without sparing him a glance, she flipped the visor back into place and lifted her chin. “I’m waiting for you to open my door.”
John Lee turned to face her. He propped his hands on his hips, cocking one hip higher than the other, and scowled. “You aren’t gonna try that prima-donna crap with me, are you? You’re a big girl now. You can open your own damn door.”
She turned her head slowly, one brow arched pointedly. “I thought the code of the West dictated that cowboys must treat women like ladies. I guess I was wrong.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” John Lee grumbled, and rounded the car to jerk open her door. “Get out,” he ordered impatiently.
“My, aren’t we friendly tonight,” she replied dryly. She lifted a hand, waiting for him to take it.
With a low growl, he grabbed her hand and all but yanked her from the seat. “Are you satisfied now?”
With a look of disdain, she turned her back on him. “What you lack in finesse, you certainly make up for with your macho-jock-turned-cowboy charm.”
Her sarcastic remark had the same effect on John Lee as a shot of cortisone had on his knee. Forgetting all about the pain and discomfort in his leg, he tossed back his head and laughed. Macho-jock-turned-cowboy. What a description! And one only Merideth could come up with. Yep, he told himself. There was hope for her after all. He slung an arm around her neck, crushing her hairdo, and headed her toward his house. “Darlin’, you’d be surprised what kind of finesse us macho-jock-turned-cowboys possess.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she replied doubtfully as she slipped a hand beneath his arm and freed her hair.
Once inside, John Lee tossed his hat onto the entry table. “Mrs. Baker, I’m home!” he yelled.
An older woman bustled from the kitchen, stripping an apron from around her thick waist. “Thank goodness,” she puffed, mopping the apron against her damp brow. “I’m ’bout ready to drop.” She wadded the apron into a ball and stuffed it into a purse she retrieved from the coat closet, pausing long enough to stare at Merideth for a moment. When Merideth lifted a brow in reply, the woman turned away with a disapproving huff.
“The salad’s in the refrigerator,” she informed John Lee, “the potatoes in the oven and the steaks on the grill. I set the timer, but you’ll need to turn ’em in about five minutes. I’ve fed the—”
John Lee grabbed her elbow, cutting her off, and hustled her toward the door. “I sure appreciate you taking care of everything, Mrs. Baker. And don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours about a thing. I can handle it from here. See you in the morning.”
Before Mrs. Baker could catch her breath, he’d closed the door in her face. Then he turned and pressed his back against it as if locking out the devil himself. He looked at Merideth and forced a smile. “That was my housekeeper, Mrs. Baker.”
“Oh?” Merideth picked up a glass sculpture of a horse from a marble-topped table and held it to the light, studying the colors. “And here I was thinking she was your mistress.” She smiled sweetly at him as she replaced the sculpture, then turned and wandered into the den.
Nervously jiggling change in his pocket, he trailed her. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he began. “You remember my sister Sissy, don’t you?”
Merideth glanced back over her shoulder. “Well, of course, I remember Sissy.”
“Well, about a month ago, she—” But before he could explain further, a whimpering sound came from behind the kitchen door.
Merideth turned in the direction of the sound. “What was that?”
John Lee caught her arm and dragged her along behind him. “That’s Cassie,” he explained as he tugged Merideth through the kitchen door behind him.
“For pity’s sake, John Lee,” Merideth fussed, trying to wrench free. “You’re going to break my—” She stopped, sucking in a shocked breath when her gaze fell on the source of the whimpering noise. There was a playpen on the kitchen floor and inside it sat a baby, her face red, her mouth opening for a full-blown wail.
Unable to move, Merideth stared, her breath locked tight in her lungs.
“This is who I was going to tell you about,” John Lee explained. He moved to the playpen, scooped up the baby and swung her high in the air. She immediately stopped her wailing and filled her hands with his hair, laughing, her chubby legs chopping at the air.
“Merideth,” he said, settling the baby on his hip, “I’d like you to meet Cassie. Cassie, my girl,” he continued, rubbing his nose against hers, “this here is Merideth McCloud, the sex kitten who stars in that soap Mrs. Baker likes to watch in the afternoon.”
Merideth tore her gaze from the baby to stare at John Lee. “She’s yours?”
“Yes—no. Well, you see—” At that moment the timer went off, signaling that the steaks were ready to be turned,