Black Ember (8 page)

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” There had been two silver rings here before, pinching the skin above and below her pale, arched eyebrows. “Didn’t that hurt, having metal poking into your face for hours?”

“It didn’t poke…oh,” she breathed, as his fingertip lightly touched the bridge of her nose, down around the edge where the fake ruby stud had been. “There were magnets involved,” she finally managed.

Zane laughed softly. He was enjoying himself—maybe a little too much, in fact, as he could sense the stirring of urges and impulses that had been dormant for a while, certainly for the last three weeks of nonstop shift work on the rigs, when most nights all he wanted when he got home was to fall into bed. All that pent-up desire—maybe it was only natural for it to come out now, except all he was doing was touching this exasperating woman’s face, not ripping her clothes off.

“Magnets,” he repeated.

“Yes, tiny ones that go behind your ear or inside your nose, and the eyebrow ones—”

Her voice broke off as he caressed her upper lip, using his thumb along the lower one at the same time. Her mouth was beautiful, irresistible, undoubtedly delicious, and what he really wanted to do was to explore with his own lips and tongue.

Instead, using every last ounce of restraint he possessed, he dropped his hand away. This was a dangerous game. The way he was feeling right now, he could easily forget his promise to himself to never let a woman rely on him, need him—to never allow himself to let a woman down the way he’d let down so many of the other people in his life. His romantic slate, at least, was clean: he’d never had so much as a long-term girlfriend. Usually he got itchy around the two-week mark, claustrophobic at a month, downright desperate to be alone the few times he’d allowed a relationship to progress past the two-month mark. The longest he’d ever made it was four months, and that was only because the woman had been an executive with a crazy travel schedule that meant they only saw each other a few times a month, and even that felt like she was trying to smother him.

And this girl? The one who was breathing just a little too fast, her skin just a little too pink, her lips parted in a way that was just a little too suggestive—she was trouble. She was carrying more than secrets around with her; Zane was pretty sure her past was full of hard knocks, missteps, and mistakes. And he didn’t want any part of that.

“The eyebrow ones poked a little,” she said, her lashes fluttering down as she stared at the coffee pot she was holding. “I might give up on those.”

“Well,” Zane said briskly, changing the subject. “I had some thoughts about where you could stay. Guy I know from work, he and his wife just bought a place out east of town, and they’re looking for a nanny. Live-in—you’d have your own bedroom and bathroom. Are you any good with kids?”

It was a long shot, especially when her eyes went wide and a look of horror passed over her face. Okay, strike that—Tim and Sonia probably would have reacted just about the same way if Zane suggested they hire a cocktail waitress in motorcycle boots to watch their two kids.

Cal shot out the front door and skidded to a halt. “There it is,” he growled. “Ma’am, I wonder if you’d share that coffeepot. I’ve got three minutes before I need to leave for work and if I don’t get out of here fast, Deneen’s liable to make me fold napkins into swans.”

Deneen followed him onto the porch, holding a pale lavender square of cloth. Behind her, Jimmy followed, his arms full of more lavender linens.

“I see you’ve all met,” Zane said.

“Yes. Thank you for bringing your new friend to stay, she’s lovely,” Deneen said. “And very helpful. Unlike the rest of you.”

“Because you’re trying to turn us into—into
girls
,” Cal sputtered.

“It’s really not hard, once you get the hang of it,” Deneen pressed. “Come on, Cal, I bet all the criminals are still asleep. Can’t they spare you for an hour or two?”

Cal grabbed the coffee pot from Carrie and bolted, hopping over the porch rail and taking the steps two at a time, before running back into the house, letting the door slam behind him.

“What about you, Carrie?” Deneen continued, undaunted. “I’d ask Zane, but he can’t even do his own laundry so he’s probably not up to table settings.”
 “The wedding’s not until tomorrow,” Zane said. “And aren’t the tables getting set up outside?”

“Yes, the caterers are handling all of that,” Deneen said. “This is just for the rehearsal dinner tonight. There will only be sixteen guests so it shouldn’t be too much fuss.”

“Wait, I thought it was a barbecue,” Zane said. “Matthew said he was just throwing some burgers on the grill.”

Jimmy winced as Deneen gasped. “He’s not
throwing
anything
anywhere
,” she said. “My sister gets exactly one wedding rehearsal and it’s going to be delightful.”

“Delightful,” Jimmy muttered, as though trying to convince himself. “Deneen and Matthew negotiated a compromise.”

“There will be a light buffet, and Matthew—who keeps forgetting he already has a job, which is keeping his mouth shut like a good groom and making my sister happy for the rest of her life—isn’t going anywhere near the barbecue grill.”

“I’d be glad to help,” Carrie said, placing a hand on Deneen’s arm. “I don’t have to be at work until two o’clock.”

Deneen grinned. “That’s wonderful. Except I feel awful asking you to help out for a dinner you have to miss. Is there any chance you could leave work early and join us?”

Jimmy looked completely confused. “I thought you said it was traditional for only attendants and family to attend the rehearsal dinner.” Since he and Deneen had started dating last Christmas, Jimmy had made great strides, considering that he’d basically been a mad scientist for most of his life. Deneen was patiently coaching him through the complex rules of social interactions.

“Yes,” Deneen said patiently, “but the number
one
rule of etiquette is that there is always room at the table for an unexpected guest, especially if she’s as lovely as Carrie!”

Zane had to hand it to her—Deneen was unrivaled in her skill for putting people at ease, which was one of the reasons her events were becoming legendary.

“I don’t think I could ask for time off, on my second day on the job,” Carrie said. “Especially since Opal said Fridays are busy at the bar.”

Deneen nodded sympathetically. “I understand. I do wish you’d be able to join us. Do you have to work tomorrow, too?”

“Apparently not. I guess they’re, um, closed because so many of their customers will be here.”

“That’s great! We’re so glad you’ll be able to come.”

“Carrie won’t be here tomorrow night,” Zane said hastily. “We’re going to find her somewhere to stay today.”

Three pairs of eyes drilled into him. Deneen and Jimmy looked incredulous, while Carrie looked…almost disappointed.

“You’re out of your mind,” Deneen said. “If there was any extra room to be had, I’d snatch it up for cousin Lainey. If she has to room with Aunt Ida, there’s going to be hell to pay. Besides, we’re not using the family room for anything—it’s far too ugly. So Carrie can have it all to herself.”

“I can’t stay here while your sister is getting married!”

“You certainly can. Besides, they’ve got a room at the Three Horses Inn on their wedding night, so you could always crash in their room if you get tired of the couch.” Deneen gave her an encouraging smile. “Listen, this’ll make a great story—every event planner knows that they’re judged not by the things that go right but by how they handle the challenges. You can return the favor by telling everyone I pulled it off.”

Carrie looked at her for a long moment, then at Jimmy and finally at Zane. She looked completely unsure of herself. Finally, her shoulders sagged and she said, in a very small voice, “I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t know where I was going to go, and…I just can’t believe you’d do such a nice thing for a total stranger.”

“We’re not strangers,” Deneen said, “not after you spent the night! And now that you’ve seen me without my makeup, we’re practically related! Besides, if you go, I’ll have to put up with Zane moping all day long. He hasn’t brought a girl home the entire time he’s lived here—I’m not about to turn away the first.”

“I didn’t bring her home!” Zane protested. This was a disaster—Deneen thought they were an item, which could only lead to more trouble. One didn’t take chances around a human tornado who considered herself a matchmaker. “I mean, I did, but only because she didn’t have anywhere else to go!”

“Like a stray kitten,” Deneen said, winking. “Don’t worry, I
get
it.”

“Really,” Carrie said quickly. “He was just being nice. I don’t—I’m not—”

“Sure, sure. Listen, you two, we can continue the bickering inside. Time’s a-wasting, and we’ve got swans to fold!”

Caryn laid a salad fork next to the dinner fork on the pale lavender tablecloth, squinted, and nudged it slightly to the right. She didn’t know Deneen well, but she’d wager that the woman was a perfectionist when it came to table settings. Right now she was having an animated conversation on the phone with someone about parking for tomorrow.

“Small to medium, I would say…well, I don’t know, I’ve never actually measured the ruts in the road. I mean, surely you have experience driving on dirt roads if you grew up in North Dakota. Oh, really…mmm-mmm…and I’d love to hear all about how you came to move here from Maine sometime, but for the moment, can we just talk about the parking?”

Caryn smiled to herself as Deneen went out onto the porch where she had more room to pace. She’d been pacing the floors most of the day, which was probably why she had that enviable, lean figure. Caryn herself had been lean, a gym devotee most of her life, until Nathanial dumped her—and now her thin figure owed mostly to stress.

But despite the fact that she was two thousand miles from home, crashing in a bunkhouse, had lost everything she brought with her, was living a lie and working as a waitress, something about the ranch had a surprisingly calming effect on her. Maybe it was the view of the fields and forest, the clouds scudding along the horizon in a brilliant blue sky. Maybe it was the scent of wildflowers mixed with the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Maybe it was the kindness of everyone she’d met, strangers who somehow managed to make you feel like you were old friends.

Maybe it was the man sitting at the end of the table, tying lavender satin ribbons to the wedding programs.

He chose that moment to let out a string of cursing.

Okay, Zane wasn’t exactly calming. Kind of the opposite, if she were honest with herself. She allowed herself a covert view of him while he struggled with a knot. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts today, since the weather was warm and getting warmer, but the T-shirt looked as though it had been pressed and the shorts were the expensive sort that men wore to play golf in.

Caryn saw well-dressed men every day in her line of work: people in the fashion industry, well-heeled customers looking for gifts for their wives or girlfriends, and her mother and Harry’s friends.

And still, she didn’t know anyone who wore their clothes quite as well as Zane did. It wasn’t just that he could be a model himself—he was every bit as handsome as the men on billboards and magazines—but he had an ease that was positively electrifying. Something about the way those big hands and dexterous, callused fingers worked with the shiny ribbon…it was all too easy to imagine those same hands on her skin, sliding down her body—

Zane finally got the knot tied and threw the program into the basket of finished programs.

“I’d rather work a double than make these stupid bows,” he grumbled.

“Well, you weren’t much help with the swans, either,” Caryn said. “Do you have any useful skills at all?”

“Very funny, Barracuda,” Zane said, folding his arms and glaring at her. “Where did you learn to set a table like that, anyway?”

Caryn looked down at the neatly arranged place settings, with their assortment of flatware, the glasses and bread plates placed just so. It wouldn’t do to tell Zane that she’d been sent to Miss Erica’s Etiquette Academy when other middle schoolers were on the soccer field or taking piano lessons.

“I, um, watch a lot of TV. You can learn all kinds of things on HGTV.”

Not exactly true—Caryn almost never turned on the television after her long work hours—but she was familiar with the home and garden network from when her designs were featured on a fashion reality show.

“Is that right,” Zane said blandly. She could tell he didn’t believe a word she said.

Which was fine, as long as he continued to bark up the wrong tree. He’d been fishing for information all morning, trying to figure out where she’d come from and what she’d done before becoming a cocktail waitress. Caryn had deflected as well as she could, lied when she couldn’t, but now she wanted to turn the conversation back on Zane, especially since she knew little more about her bio-dad now than when she arrived almost twenty-four hours ago.

“So, Zane…” she said casually, moving to the next place setting. “Seems like you guys are regulars down at Buddy’s.”

Zane shrugged. “It’s the only bar between here and town—and the only one that isn’t overrun every night. Plus, the beer’s cheap. Too bad the service sucks.”

Caryn ignored the jab. “Do you know Buddy very well?”

More shrugging. “I guess so. I’ve had a beer at closing time with him once or twice. Shot the shi—, er, the breeze with him.”

“Can you tell me about him? Just because he’s my new boss, and I’d like to know something about him before he comes back on Monday.” She could see the skepticism on Zane’s face, so she embellished nervously. “I really want to hang onto this job.”

“Yeah, I can see where you’ve probably had personality clashes before. Given your complete lack of customer-service skills.”

Caryn rolled her eyes. “I was just overwhelmed. I’ll do better today, I’m sure. So, Buddy…what’s he like?”

“I don’t know…he’s a guy. Guys don’t think about stuff like this the way women do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”