Robyn Grady - At The Playboy's Command

“Who? What kind of help?”

“A woman and her children.” She rinsed the pot and set it back on its perch. “She’s from the Midwest. Apparently when her family lost everything in a tornado, her husband lost it, as well. Seems he became physically violent. It was getting worse.”

“What’s all that got to do with you?”

“That woman and her children escaped and came down here to be near her sister, who’s down on her luck at the moment, too. The future looks uncertain, particularly if the husband decides to run her through some rings and take her to court for custody.” Scooping out coffee grinds, her voice lowered. “Or decides to take the law into his own hands.”

Daniel fought the chill scuttling down his backbone. He made it his business not to think too closely on the subject of broken homes. God knows, there were a lot of them. But this minute, seeing the concern lining Elizabeth’s face, it wasn’t so easy to pull down his shutter and walk away. Moving around the island to join her, he softened his tone.

“That doesn’t explain why you received a letter in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not common knowledge.” She eyed him sternly. “Promise now to not say a word.” He swept a finger twice over his heart. “Sometimes when this kind of situation seeps into Royal, the information reaches certain people through the shelter. People who like to give well-deserving individuals a new start, particularly children.”

“Certain people being you?”

Setting her jaw, she raised her chin. “I give them some cash, a car, help find them a job if I can.” She flicked the percolator on. “I don’t advertise.”

Daniel lowered his weight onto the nearest kitchen stool and absorbed the new twist. In this town, secrets went deep and the surprises kept coming. But something didn’t add up.

“Your generosity must have limits, particular criteria.” He thought she had restraints. “Do you run this by Tremain?”

“He doesn’t approve. But he knows it’s one of the things that keeps me here.” Setting two mugs on the counter, she looked at him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the ranch. But this more than compensates for …”

Her words trailed off.

“For the fact you’re caged in five sixths of the year,” he finished for her, for the first time truly feeling the ramifications of that sacrifice.

“If I left, I wouldn’t lose absolutely everything. I’d still have a trust, but I couldn’t help others to the extent I do now.”

His heart in his throat, he reached to hold her chin between his thumb and finger then combed the silken hair fallen over one cheek. When her eyes met his he felt his chest swell.

“You’re an exceptional woman, you know that?”

Although a thankful smile curved her lips, she denied it. “I’m lucky. I came from a happy home. But there are some who need help to fill in some losses. Mend some wounds. I think of the children,” she told him, her voice strong but also filled with compassion. “They need a home. A sense of belonging. It’d be easy, I imagine, to start to run and keep running from a whole pile of things.”

The longer he looked at her, the broader his smile grew. Alongside this petite woman, he suddenly felt small.

“You must’ve been born with a special knack.”

“What’s that?”

“To help people see that there’s more.” His lips brushed her forehead and his throat grew tight.

Help me to see, even a glimpse …

He cupped her nape and kissed her tenderly, wanting to both convey and absorb what he was feeling. When his lips gradually left hers, he drew in a breath and peered into her vulnerable gaze.

“Do you have any time left this year?”

“Of the two months?”

He nodded.

“Three days.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “We can see, and do, a lot in three days.”

Then he swept her up and—with her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder—carried her back upstairs.

Elizabeth didn’t know how she felt about Daniel Warren. Or rather, she didn’t know how she felt about the assortment of maddening emotions he managed to bring out in her.

Early this morning, after the flamingo kidnapping and discovery of the letter asking for help, they’d made love again. Every time he’d stroked and kissed her, the thrills and sense of certainty—or was that un certainty—only grew.

With cool wind pushing against her face as Ame thundered down the eastern plain, Elizabeth wondered at the similarities between the way her heart pounded with excitement now and her loss of breath whenever she was with Daniel. His slick dark hair, inviting sexy grin, a body that radiated strength on so many levels … everything about that man reduced her to jelly.

Perhaps it was childish, Elizabeth thought as she cantered in a wide semicircle and headed home, but during those times when she gazed so deeply into his eyes as she lay sated beneath him, the green became an endless ocean she was more than willing to drown in. Whenever his mouth traced the moist line from her cleavage all the way down, she couldn’t stop from quivering. Sighing. When his fingertips drifted along her side in the tingling afterglow, she wanted to close her eyes and hold on to that blessed moment forever.

And it frightened her that earlier, when Daniel had gone to work on a design idea, she’d had to bite her lip from begging him to stay.

As Ame galloped again and the wind roared past, Elizabeth tipped back her head and smiled at the warmth of the Texas sun on her face. Daniel made her feel so safe. Interesting and special. He validated her.

He left her wanting more and more.

Ame was hot and lathered by the time she walked him into the stables. Ricquo, a ranch hand, took the reins and offered to brush him down. Elizabeth strolled back to the house, relishing the smells of well-worked horse and sunflowers. But with Daniel offering to take her away for three days, she was ready for a change of scenery. A change of pace.

Biting her lip, she grinned to herself.

Where did he plan to take her?

Her riding boots crunching over gravel, Elizabeth strode up the path thinking Hawaii, Fiji, maybe even Australia. Then she spied an uninvited guest swinging on her back patio seat and spiraling anticipation turned to dread. She didn’t want to face that man today, but she should have known he’d show up.

Wanting to get it over with, she straightened her spine and picked up her pace.

“Morning, Chad.”

“I see Nita’s not around today,” he said, pushing out of the swing.

“Gone to see her mother. What can I do for you?”

“I received your correspondence this morning,” Chad said in his I’m disappointed in you tone. “I needed to tell you in person. I object.”

Wiggling out of her gloves, she skirted around him. “I know you do.”

They’d had this conversation—confrontation—many times. In fact, every time she instructed Chad to write a check for a family in need. She’d heard all the arguments, and frankly, she was tired of them. But for her parents’ sake she’d tell him one more time.

“Through the terms of the will I receive a generous allowance.”

She didn’t need to involve Chad when lump expenditures came in under a certain amount. But from early on she’d decided not to let that constraint stand in the way of using her allowance when and how she saw fit.

She opened the back door. “My mother would approve of my helping those in need.”

“Your father wouldn’t. He’d want you to use every cent on assisting the Milton cause—keeping the place running and running well.”

Her temper spiked. “My father is dead. ”