Eye of the Tiger (9 page)

It was understandable that she might feel that way, she told herself. After all, Keegan had been her first man. She only wished that it didn’t hurt quite so much. She didn’t dare let him see that it bothered her, either. He already thought, with some good reason, that she was vulnerable to him. It wouldn’t do to let him know exactly how vulnerable.

So when he looked up from the Irish girl’s face and caught Eleanor’s eyes, she actually raised her wineglass and inclined her head gracefully. Then she turned back to Wade with magnificent disdain.

“What was that all about?” he asked with a faint smile.

“That was a congratulatory toast,” she replied innocently. “He’s bagged another one.”

He chuckled. “You make him sound like a headhunter.”

“Why not? His reputation’s worse than yours,” she replied.

He lifted both eyebrows. “Do you suppose he’s ever done it suspended from a tree limb?”

She burst out laughing, almost choking on her wine. Across the room, a pair of deep blue eyes saw and darkened with an odd kind of pain. But Eleanor didn’t see them.

I
t was just past midnight when Wade took her home, and she was still a little shaken from trying to eat with Keegan watching her. Had he really gone there by coincidence, or had her father told him where Wade was taking her? She had to know.

“I had a great time,” she told Wade as he cut the engine of the Mercedes at her front door. “Thanks for the meal.”

“My pleasure,” he said sincerely. He leaned toward her, giving her plenty of time to draw away.

But she didn’t. She liked Wade. Tonight he’d been there when she’d needed a buffer against Keegan. She owed him this, if nothing more. She smiled against his warm mouth and closed her eyes.

It was pleasant kissing him. Not threatening or explosive as it was with Keegan. Keegan. She drew back against her will with a tiny sigh. What was the use in
pretending? No one would ever move her as Keegan did. She couldn’t hurt Wade by letting him believe she felt something that she truly didn’t.

He touched her face and shrugged. Then he smiled, without anger. “You’re a nice kid,” he said. “Hang around with me, anyway. I’ll teach you all kinds of useless information and leave you panting with my expertise as a local tour guide.”

She burst out laughing. “You crazy man!”

His white teeth showed brilliantly against his dark tan as he returned the smile. “It beats sanity, from what I’ve seen.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Just don’t let the rabid redhead see that lost look in your eyes, darling,” he cautioned solemnly, nodding when her eyelids flinched. “Oh, yes, you’re very transparent sometimes, innocent lady. I don’t think he noticed, but you’d be a basket case if he did. Keegan doesn’t play around.”

She knew that far better than he did. She straightened proudly. “You’re wrong,” she replied firmly. “I had a crush on him when I was eighteen, but I outgrew it. I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, humoring her. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Be careful, all the same. I wouldn’t like to see him hurt you. I’ve gotten very fond of you, miss nurse.”

“You’re nice people,” she murmured.

“I try, I try,” he replied, dark eyes sparkling with humor. “We’re having a garden party Saturday. You’re invited. I’ll pick you up about ten o’clock, and don’t argue,” he said when she opened her mouth. “Consider it private tuition,” he added wickedly.

“And how will your family feel about having the Tabers’ hired help to entertain?” she asked hesitantly.

He actually glowered at her. “For heaven’s sake, don’t start that. All you have to worry about is keeping your head while you fend off my mother and sister. My dad will be a pushover.” He chuckled. “He likes pretty girls.”

“Well—” she sighed “—if you’re willing, I’m willing. I don’t want to embarrass you, though, and I have a quick tongue.”

“Do you?” he asked eagerly. “Show me!”

She hit him. “You stop that, you animal,” she teased.

He stretched lazily, still smiling. “Well, it’s too late for a game of chess with your father, so I guess I’ll go home to my lonely bed and try to sleep.” He glanced sideways at her as she reached for the door handle. “Sure you won’t go home and share my pillow, Eleanor? You can use half my toothbrush, and I’ll even share the cover with you.”

“Thanks, but my father has this enormous shotgun…”

“I withdraw the invitation,” he said hastily. “I’m allergic to shotgun blasts.”

She leaned over and kissed his tanned cheek. “You’re a lovely man. I wish I’d met you five years ago.”

“Yes. So do I,” he replied quietly. Then he winked. “Night, love. I’ll see you Saturday morning. Ten sharp.”

“Wait! What should I wear?”

“Something wispy and feminine.”

She watched him drive off, wondering what would qualify as wispy. A cocktail dress? She grinned wickedly as she went into the house. A nightgown…?

Her father had already gone to bed. She had to wait until the next morning at breakfast to ask him if he’d told Keegan where she was going with Wade. So it came as a shock, when she got downstairs, to find Keegan sitting at the kitchen table with her father, drinking coffee.

“Well, it’s about time,” Keegan muttered, glaring at her. “This is a fine way to treat an injured man, making him go hungry while you sleep off your hot date!”

It was barely six in the morning. She was half-asleep and, worse, wearing her old worn green quilted robe with only a flimsy peekaboo nightie under it. Her hair was disheveled, and she had no makeup on.

“What injured man?” she demanded, glaring at Keegan. “And what are you doing here?”

“Your father,” he reminded her. “Just look at the poor man. He’s so weak from hunger he can hardly sit up at all.”

Her father was enjoying himself, all wide grins and flushed pleasure, Cupid in the flesh. His daughter glared at him, too.

“Weak from hunger, my foot, and who appointed you his guardian?”

“Well, somebody has to protect him from his heartless offspring,” Keegan returned doggedly. His blue eyes flowed over her like the warmth of the sun, and that arrogant smile tugged at his thin lips. “Do you always sleep like that?”

He of all people would have to ask that question. She blushed furiously and turned away to start cooking breakfast before anyone could see.

“Are you here to criticize or eat?” she demanded as she started frying bacon in the big iron skillet.

“Eat,” Keegan replied. “I’m starving to death. Mary June turned her ankle and can’t get up, and Maureen doesn’t wake up until eleven o’clock.”

“Well, where’s your father?” she asked.

“He went to the Red Barn for breakfast,” he replied.

“Really? I’m astonished that you didn’t bring him with you,” she muttered.

“I invited him.” Keegan sighed. “But he didn’t want to impose.”

She could have thrown something at him. And her father just sat there sipping coffee, enjoying himself. Men!

“I like my eggs sunny-side up,” Keegan remarked as she started to mix some in a bowl to scramble.

“Do you?” She gave him a sunny smile. “How nice.” She went back to breaking eggs into the bowl.

“Is she always such a bear in the mornings?” he asked her father.

“Oh, not at all,” Barnett replied. “She’s disgustingly sunny as a rule.”

“Then it must be me,” the younger man said with a sigh. He stared at Eleanor quietly as she moved around pots and pans, smiling at her stiff back. He was wearing work clothes this morning—jeans and a chambray shirt that probably cost the earth, she thought irritably. It wasn’t completely buttoned, and she wished he would at least cover up his chest so that she didn’t get sidetracked while trying to make biscuits. The sight brought back some very disturbing memories.

“Biscuits.” Keegan sighed, leaning his forearms on the table. “Nobody makes them like you do, Ellie.”

“How would you know?” she demanded, glancing over her shoulder as she cut the biscuits and put them into a pan.

“I usually come over for coffee with your father,” he said. “After you’re gone, of course, but there are usually biscuits left over. I love the way you make them.”

Disgusting, the way that pleased her. She bit back a smile. “I make sourdough biscuits,” she said. She glanced at him. “Go ahead, make a comment.”

“I wouldn’t dare. At least, not until you take up the eggs.” He grinned.

She turned back to her chores. Keegan and her father started talking, and she got busy setting the table and getting everything cooked.

When she was through, she put the food on the table and started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Keegan asked with his fork poised over the bacon platter.

“To…to get dressed,” she faltered.

“It will be cold by then,” her father chided. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. You’re decently covered, after all.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Keegan seconded. “Sit, girl, you won’t inflame me with passion. I have willpower.”

She made the mistake of staring into his eyes at that instant, with the memory of that Sunday afternoon picnic in her face. The look she shared with him made her tingle all over, and thank heaven her father was buttering a biscuit. She averted her eyes and quickly sat down across from Keegan, her hands trembling
as she tried to pour coffee from the carafe into thick white mugs.

“Here,” Keegan said softly, putting his hand over hers to help her.

She looked up, and all the years fell away; it was painful for her, so painful to feel that way about him and know that he didn’t share it, that he had nothing to give her.

His fingers caressed hers as he helped her steady the carafe, and his blue eyes searched her face. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” he asked in a tone like velvet.

“The food was delicious,” she returned. “Didn’t you think so?”

“Yes.” He didn’t release her hand when she finished pouring. He let his eyes brush over it, then reluctantly he let her move away.

“How did Miss O’Clancy like it?” she forced herself to ask.

He shifted restlessly in his chair. “She found it a bit trying, I think,” he replied. “She doesn’t like French cuisine.”

“Then why take her to a French restaurant?” she burst out, wide-eyed.

“She didn’t tell me until it was too late,” he replied.

She wanted to ask if he’d known that she and Wade were going to be there, but her courage failed her. She concentrated instead on eating her breakfast, leaving the conversation to the men, who seemed intent on discussing farm business anyway.

When they were through, she got up to clear the table and put the dishes in to soak until she dressed.

“I have to run,” she remarked, drying her hands. “I go on duty at seven.”

“Will the world end if you’re a few minutes late?” Keegan grumbled, almost as if he didn’t want her to leave.

“No, but my job might,” she replied. “Unlike you, Mr. Taber, sir, I have to earn my living.”

“Eleanor!” Barnett burst out, shocked.

“It’s all right,” Keegan soothed him. “Eleanor and I have been sparring for years. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Yes,” her father replied, and there was a world of meaning in the word.

Keegan sipped his coffee quietly. “Feel like going sailing with me Saturday?” he asked unexpectedly.

She gaped at him. “Me? My goodness, you’re courting the angels these days, aren’t you, being so good to the hired help!”

“Oh, Eleanor,” her father groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“I like the hired help,” Keegan shot back at her. “And will you please stop embarrassing your father?”

“He’s my father after all—I can embarrass him if I want to!” she flared, dark eyes angry and cold.

“Will you come sailing or not?” he demanded.

“I don’t like sailing.”

“You were going with Wade!”

“I like Wade,” she returned. “I’d rather go fishing or walking, if you want to know, but I was willing to go sailing with him because I like his company. I do not like yours,” she continued relentlessly, “and you know why!”

He stared at her unblinking while Barnett watched them curiously.

“Besides,” she muttered, dropping her eyes, “Wade’s already invited me to a garden party at his home Saturday.”

“At his home?” he asked silkily.

She glared at him. “His mother and sister will be there, as well as a number of guests. And before you ask, no, he doesn’t do it hanging from tree limbs because I asked him and he told me so!”

“Oh, God.” Barnett covered his face again, shaking his head. “Where did I fail her?”

“Will you hush?” Eleanor said to her father, then slid her angry gaze back to Keegan. “See what you’ve done now?”

“How could you ask him a question like that?” he demanded. “You’ll put ideas into his head!”

“Dad’s?” she asked innocently.

“Wade’s! As you damned well know!” Keegan looked furious. Even his face seemed red, like his hair. He stuck his hands on his lean hips and glared at her. “Did he try anything last night?”

“Did you?” she shot back.

He was looking more furious by the minute. “Listen, Eleanor, you’re going to get in trouble if you keep hanging out with that playboy.”

“Dad, why don’t you tell him that you’re my father and that he has no right to grill me like this?” Eleanor moaned.

Barnett grinned. “But he’s doing such a good job, darling.”

She threw up her hands. “I’m going to work!”

“Running away?” Keegan taunted.

“You bet!” she replied without turning. She continued on to her room to get into her nurse’s uniform and put on her makeup.

But if she’d expected that Keegan would be gone when she returned to the kitchen, cap in hand, she was disappointed. He was still sitting there.

His blue eyes gazed approvingly at the neat fit of her crisp white uniform with its metal nameplate. “Nice,” he said with a slow smile. “You do look like an angel of mercy, baby.”

Did he have to use that particular endearment? It made her grind her teeth, and the blush that covered her cheeks certainly aroused her father’s curiosity.

“I’ll be late if I don’t hurry,” she muttered, bending to kiss her father’s cheek. “See you later.”