The Rancher's Wedding - Diana Palmer Page 0,31
a reporter, she told me.”
“She was a good one. She worked for a weekly paper.” He laughed. “She found the most unusual people to do feature stories about. Her columns were often picked up by major dailies.”
“She might get on with our local paper,” JL said thoughtfully.
“She gave it up,” Roger replied. “The stress made her asthma worse.”
“Oh. I see.” He grimaced. “I’ll have to be a lot more careful with her, when I take her out,” he added, thinking ahead. “I’ll make sure she’s bundled up properly, even if I have to roll her up in one of my rugs.”
Roger laughed at the picture that made in his mind. “She’s a black belt,” he reminded his companion.
JL grinned. “So am I.”
“I heard about that.”
“I’ll take care of her, just the same. She’s got a bagful of medicine. Make sure she takes it. And don’t let her go to work tomorrow. Mary already tried to get her to go home today and she argued about it.”
“I’ll get a strong chain with a lock,” Roger agreed, grinning.
“I can pick locks!” came a hoarse voice from the bedroom.
Her father just laughed. So did JL.
* * *
Cassie was flushed with excitement and joy when JL came in to say good-bye.
“You get better,” he instructed.
“I’ll work on it every day,” she said in a hoarse tone, and smiled.
“Next time we go riding, I’ll get you one of the old coats Nita left when she moved to Denver.”
Her lips parted. She searched his dark eyes and felt warm inside, as if a fire had been kindled there.
He was feeling something similar. He reached out and brushed back her disheveled red-gold hair. It had been a very long time since he’d been needed by anyone. His mother was often ill, and he’d been attentive when she was. His father was never sick; his older brother had never even had a cold. But here was this little newcomer who needed nurturing and he felt a bond with her already.
He drew in a breath. He recalled what he’d told her, that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He was feeling surprisingly comfortable with her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been around a redhead in my life,” he teased softly.
“We’re rare,” she had to admit. She smiled. “It comes with freckles.”
He chuckled. “I like freckles.”
She drew in a rasping breath. “I don’t, but it isn’t as if I get a choice about having them,” she laughed.
“You need to sleep,” he said gently, getting to his feet. “I’ll check on you in the morning. You can call me if you need anything.”
She looked at him with wonder. “I can?”
“Where’s your cell?”
“In my housecoat pocket, there,” she said, pointing to the robe she’d draped around the back of a chair.
He lifted it, admiring the intricate embroidery. It looked very expensive. Definitely not something off the rack.
She could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was suspicious.
“It was my mother’s,” she said, noting the intent look he gave the robe as he searched for the phone. “It’s one of the few things I have left of her. Dad gave her the robe three Christmases ago. She fussed because he splurged for it,” she added quickly.
“Oh. I see,” he said, smiling easily. His suspicions retreated. He opened her contact list and put his phone number into it. He put the phone on the table by the bed. “In case you need it,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
He grinned. “You’re welcome. If you can’t get your dad, and you need anything, you call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sprout.”
She grinned. “Okay. Thanks for getting me to the doctor,” she added. “I’ll pay you back. . . .”
“Over my dead body,” he said with a laugh. “This was my treat.”
She bit her lower lip and fought tears. “It was so kind . . . !”
“Don’t you start,” he said, waving a finger at her. “You start bawling and your dad’s going to go looking for a shotgun.”
“Not likely,” her dad said from the doorway, chuckling.
“Figure of speech,” JL replied. He smiled at both of them. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for all you did,” Roger told him. “For supper, and for taking care of Cassie.”
“My pleasure.” He went out without another word or a backward glance, closing the door behind him.
Outside, he lifted his face to the cold wind and sighed. He was getting in over his head here, and he didn’t know how to stop. Her vulnerability appealed to him as other feminine traits