Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan Page 9

When, in reality, it had all gone so wrong.

  Ethan sat in the comfortable leather conference-room chair and tried to pay attention to Grant’s really excellent PowerPoint presentation. He had a tall glass of mint-garnished iced tea at his elbow served by Grant’s assistant right after they’d returned from a nice lunch in the Lounge. Ethan also had a pen and a notebook close at hand, should he feel the need to jot down a note. Hell, he had his PDA right there and could use it if the pen ran out of ink.

  He really did not need for Lizzie to be there.

  It was just that she was supposed to be there. But she wasn’t. She was late. And Lizzie was never late.

  Until today.

  Ethan didn’t like it. He’d given her two full hours for lunch. She’d agreed to be back at the resort and on hand in the conference room by 1:30. It was now 1:45. Annoyance moved through him, a prickly, uneasy feeling, like bees buzzing under his skin.

  Was she all right? Had she been in an accident or some thing?

  The very thought that something bad might have happened to her scared him to death. So he decided not to think about that.

  No. She was fine. He was sure of it. He focused on his annoyance with her for being late, in order to keep from imagining that she might be in trouble.

  It was…the principle of the thing. He paid her a fortune—especially if you counted that bonus she was getting at the end of July when she left him high and dry to go bake cupcakes for a living—and the least she could do was to be there, ready to work if he needed her for the too-short time she remained in his employ.

  Grant began clicking through a series of images showing construction of the just-completed golf course, which had been started three years ago and put on hold for twenty-four months when the economy soured. “But we finished work on it this year, as soon as the snow gave us a break. And the grand opening two weeks ago brought in golfers from all over the country. It’s not a large course, but it’s a beauty and it really is a necessity for a year-round resort destination.”

  The conference-room door opened silently. Ethan wouldn’t even have noticed it if he hadn’t had his head turned so he could see the door from the corner of his eye.

  Lizzie slipped in.

  Grant sent her a smile. “Lizzie.”

  She gave Clifton a small wave and took her place at the long table.

  Ethan let his gaze glide dismissively past her. “About time.”

  He was going to have a word with her about her lateness—this evening at dinner, as a matter of fact.

  Yeah, okay. He’d been thinking he would eat out, get away from the house and the tension between them, maybe try the Hitching Post. He could get a beer and burger there. Plus, he might meet someone pretty and friendly and available, someone who wouldn’t make a federal case out of a few innocent kisses.

  But on second thought, no. He’d eat at home and he’d get it clear with Lizzie that as long as she was his employee, he expected her to be on time.

  At four, as they were wrapping up for the day, Grant asked Ethan if he planned to be back in town week after next.

  When Ethan said yes, Grant suggested they go for that golf-cart and horseback tour of the property that Connor had mentioned the day before. “How about if I set it up for Tuesday, the twenty-first? Be here at the offices, dressed for riding, at nine. We can change the date if that doesn’t work for Connor. I’m sure he would really like to go along.”

  “The twenty-first is fine,” Ethan said. “But I’m flexible. Let me know if another day would be better.”

  Grant promised he would. The men shook hands.

  Ethan and Lizzie left the offices. Out in the parking lot, he made a point of not speaking to her. She didn’t say a word to him, either. They got in their separate cars and headed down the mountain.

  He almost went to the Hitching Post anyway. He could a use a drink in a friendly atmosphere. And then he could go home for dinner and tell Lizzie he didn’t appreciate her wandering back to work whenever the mood suited her.

  But he had some calls to make. He needed to touch base with his mom and with Roger, to check in with the Midland office and make confirmation calls to Helena and Great Falls. So they ended up caravanning to the house and pulling into the garage side by side.

  In the house, she actually spoke to him. Coolly, without so much as a hint of a smile. “Will you be eating dinner here tonight?”

  “Yeah. Seven?”

  “I’ll have it ready.”

  “Good. I’d like a Maker’s Mark, rocks, in my office at six-thirty.”

  “You got it.”

  He left her and went to his study, where he shut the door and picked up the phone.

  After the calls, he took off his tie and undid the top buttons on his shirt and went over the spreadsheets Roger had emailed him from Midland.

  Lizzie tapped on his door at six-thirty exactly.

  “It’s open,” he said in a flat voice.

  She brought in his drink and set it on a coaster by his desk blotter without once meeting his eyes. He waited to reach for it until, silently closing the door behind her, she left him alone again. Then he grabbed the glass, knocked back a healthy shot and hoisted his tooled boots up on the side of his desk. The whiskey burned a satisfying trail down his throat. He braced the glass on his stomach and studied his boots. Usually, kicking back at the end of the day with his boots up was a very satisfying moment for Ethan.

  Not today, though. And all because of the tall, wild-haired muffin maker in the kitchen.

  He had another fine, smooth sip and he asked himself, was he overdoing the lord-of-the-manor routine just a little?

  Okay, yeah. Maybe.

  But damn it, now he not only had to accept that she really was deserting him, but he also had to let her go without going where he’d just discovered he really wanted to go with her—namely, the nearest bed.

  Five years she’d been with him, day in and day out. And until a few days ago, he’d never had the slightest clue that he wanted her. That was pretty damn strange, if you thought about it. Pretty…unsettling.

  But still, he was willing to work with the strangeness of it all. He was willing to get past the unsettling nature of the whole thing. He could just accept that he wanted Lizzie. It was a fact and he was ready to deal with it.

  But not Lizzie. Oh, no.

  Lizzie wasn’t willing. Uh-uh. Lizzie had told him right to his face that she wasn’t kissing him again. She wasn’t…going in that direction with him. She even wanted him to un-remember that he’d kissed her in the first place.

  It was insulting. Seriously. He wasn’t a bad guy. As a rule, women liked him. They really liked him.

  Okay, he knew he wasn’t Lizzie’s type, the looking-to-settle-down type. But still. She could make an exception just this once, couldn’t she?

  After all, she wanted him, too. There was no faking the way she’d kissed him that morning—and she wasn’t the kind who faked it anyway. Why couldn’t she just let nature take its course? It could be really good for both of them.

  Ethan swung his boots to the floor and stood from the high-backed leather swivel chair. Enough of this sitting here, stewing over this whole annoying situation.

  He had a few things to say to her. And now was as good a time as any to say them.

  Chapter Seven

  “Lizzie,” Ethan said.

  Lizzie felt a shiver down her spine. She had her back to him. She paused in the act of slicing sweet peppers for the salad and waited for what he was going to say next.

  But he didn’t say anything. Only her name, in that low, rough tone that brought to mind some hungry wild animal, growling with his lips curled back. A wild animal showing sharp, mean teeth in that moment right before he went for the throat.

  “What can I get for you?” she asked brightly, setting down her paring knife and turning to face him where he lounged in the doorway. He had one big arm crossed over his middle. The other was straight at his side, his half-finished drink dang
ling from his fingers. She tried again, “Refresh your drink?”

  He just looked at her, a look that managed to be both furious and lazy at once.

  She refused to let him see that he was getting to her. Cheerfully, she informed him, “Dinner’s almost ready.” The prime rib was out of the oven, resting on the cooktop. She had the potatoes whipped and the green beans buttered and waiting in a covered serving dish.

  He raised the glass, deftly shifting it so that he cradled it in his big palm. And he took a slow, thoughtful sip. “You were late today, after lunch.”

  She had known that was coming. “Yeah.” She grabbed the hand towel on the counter beside her, wiped her hands, set it back down again. “I’m really sorry. I let the time get away from me.”

  “Two hours wasn’t enough for lunch?”

  She let a long pause elapse before answering that one. “Two hours was more than enough. I appreciated the extra time. I should have made it back when I said I would. I really do apologize. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.”

  Okay, now he was really starting to annoy her. She asked with excruciating civility, “Ethan, how many times have I been late back from lunch—or at all—in the years that I’ve worked for you?”

  He sipped his drink again, then studied the glass. “You know, I think I will have another drink.”

  It was too much. “Will you please have the courtesy to answer my question first?”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. You’re never late. Until today.”

  “I’m so pleased you’re aware of that. And I have apologized for today. Can we be done now with beating that particular dead horse?”

  “Sure.” He held out his glass.

  They glared at each other. It was such a tacky power play, his insisting that she get his drink. As if he couldn’t stroll on over to the wet bar in the family room and get his own damn refill.

  But fine. All right. She was his housekeeper, and getting his drinks was her job. With a hard snort of disgust, she marched over to him and took the glass. He remained there, lounging in the doorway.

  “Excuse me,” she said in a tone that made it more than clear she would love to throw what was left of that drink right in his smug, too-handsome face.

  “Oh. Sorry.” He straightened enough that she could slip past him.

  She marched into the family room, poured him another and returned to the kitchen, where he had yet to budge from the doorway. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” He took the drink.

  She eased around him again and returned to the counter, intent on serving him his meal and then leaving him alone to have his prime rib by himself. She picked up her paring knife and glared at the red mini-pepper waiting on the cutting board.

  Behind her, he hadn’t moved. And this was ridiculous. A farce. She wasn’t putting up with this treatment for one more minute.

  She slapped the knife down, turned on him again and folded her arms tightly across her stomach. “Ethan, you’re being a complete ass. You know that, right?”

  He scowled at her. “Oh, great. Now I’m an ass.”

  “Yes, you are.” She softened her tone a fraction. “And being an ass is not like you. As a rule, you’re a good, kind man. A fair man.”

  He had nothing to say to that. He only straightened from the doorway and went to the table, where he yanked out his usual chair and dropped into it. She’d already put his place setting there. He sipped his drink and set the glass on the corner of the place mat. His was the only setting. He gestured toward the empty spot across the table. “What is that?”

  She only stared at him.

  And he said, “Look, I get it, okay. I finally get that there’s nothing I can do to keep you from leaving. But I don’t get why you won’t sit down at the damn table and eat your dinner across from me. That’s just…well, that’s plain mean, Lizzie. You know that it is.”

  She felt sorry for him suddenly, all her righteous anger with him drained away. She said gently, “Ethan, come on. The way you’ve been behaving today, why would I want to sit down and share a meal with you? Trying to eat my dinner with you sitting there glaring at me, it’s a surefire prescription for indigestion, you’ve got to know that.”

  He slumped back in the chair. “Okay. All right. I’ll behave, I promise. Just…set yourself a place, and please, can we eat?”

  She studied his face for a long time, feeling all tender and sorry and sad. And then, finally, she nodded. “Just a few minutes.”

  “Great.” A weary smile. “Thanks.”

  So she finished cutting up the salad and brought it to the table. He carved the roast for her and brought over the meat platter as she put the au jus in a gravy boat and set out the green beans.

  The buzzer went off to let her know the yeast rolls were ready. She transferred them to a breadbasket. “Wine?”

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “Not tonight.”

  They sat down, passed the food to each other and ate in silence for several minutes.

  Finally, with care, she set down her fork. “Ethan…”

  He looked up from his plate. “What? I’m behaving.”

  Fondness washed through her. “It’s not about that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I just want to say, in case it might be better for you, that I don’t have to stay on until the end of July. If you’re finding it hard to…I don’t know, be around me now, it’s okay. I understand. I could go back to Midland and see about finding you a new assistant. Or I could find one for you here. Or I could just, well, go.”

  He set down his fork, too. He sat very still, watching her, his eyes so dark, his expression somber. Then, very softly, he said, “No. Please. Don’t go. Stay. I don’t want to give you up until I have to. And don’t…find me your replacement. There is no one who can replace you.”

  She suddenly felt misty-eyed. “Oh, Ethan…”

  “I’ll deal with the problem when I have to, when you’re gone. But until then, do me a favor. Just keep on as we have been, help me to get started here in Thunder Canyon. That’s what I want for now, that’s what works best for me.”

  There was a definite pressure at the back of her throat, the tightness of tears rising. She swallowed them down. “It’s meant so much, really. To work for you. To…be your friend. When you first hired me, I hardly knew where my next meal was coming from. I’d gone off to college secure that I had a home and the family business to return to. But when I got back, it was all gone. I was so scared, Ethan. For myself. For my poor, lost father. But you gave me a job. You gave me…a chance. And I got to find out how really capable I am. And not only that, you bailed my dad out of jail, you made it so he could get some kind of life back when I was pretty much certain he would never find his way to anything resembling peace or stability. And when he died, you were the one who was there for me. I am grateful to you, in a thousand ways. But I have to live my life for me, you know?”

  His Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. “I know.”

  “I can’t stay with you if you’re just going to be mean and cold to me. As much as I care about you, I’m not up for taking a lot of punishment from you for the next seven weeks. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

  “I hear you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I was out of line and I know it. I’m having a little trouble getting it in my head that there’s no way to change your mind about going.”

  “I know.”

  “And then there’s the rest of it,” he said gruffly. She took his meaning: the sudden, surprising attraction between them. “Seeing you in this different way. It has me all turned around sideways, with my head spinning.”

  “I know the feeling,” she confessed in near-whisper.

  He picked up a yeast roll from the basket, broke it in half, met her gaze across the table. “I’m used to being interested in more…willing women.”

  She laughed then. “Oh, Ethan.” And then she didn’t
feel like laughing at all. She felt that little curl of heat down low in her belly, just from staring into those beautiful eyes of his. “That would be too difficult for me. I don’t do casual intimate relationships, or at least I never have. And I don’t feel comfortable trying that out now.”

  His chuckle was lacking in humor. “And I only do casual.”

  “Exactly.” She gazed at him and he stared back at her and all at once, she was recalling one of the many times he’d broken up with his latest girlfriend because he said the woman was getting too serious.

  “I don’t do serious,” he’d confided in Lizzie over a cup of decaf the night of the breakup. “I never will.”

  She’d rolled her eyes and told him to wait. Someday he’d meet someone really special and he’d want to get serious.

  He laughed and said that was never going to happen. “Some men just don’t do well in captivity. I’m one of those.”

  She got annoyed with him then, for equating a real relationship with captivity. She punched him in the arm and called him a bad name. He only laughed and then asked her reproachfully, “Lizzie, if I can’t tell you the truth, who can I tell it to?”

  “Lizzie?”

  She blinked and brought herself back to the present. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “I won’t be an ass again.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “I’ll keep it friendly, but not too friendly. Will that work?”

  “Yes, it will.” She forced a smile.

  They picked up their forks and continued the meal.

  A few minutes later, he said, “We should leave by eight tomorrow morning. We’ve got a ten-o’clock meeting with a couple of land brokers in Helena.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “It’s a week and a half of being mostly on the move.”

  “I know, Ethan.”

  “So we’re good, then? We’re set?”

  “We are, yes.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They spent Wednesday and Thursday in Helena and Friday and Saturday in Great Falls.

  Sunday, they moved east. Ethan was buying up mineral rights in the more promising areas of the Bakken Shale, a large area of oil-rich shale land that covered over two-hundred-thousand square miles in Montana, North Dakota and Canada. A lot of the rights were already claimed, but if a company didn’t make use of the rights, they expired. Ethan was on the trail of some of those expired leases, plus trying to get his hands on leases yet to be bought.