Diana Palmer - Rough Diamonds - Wyoming Tough / Diamond in the Rough

He dragged himself away from her and looked down. She was flushed and shaking. But it wasn’t from fear. he knew women. She was as aroused as he was. She hadn’t protested the kissing, but she wasn’t willing to go further. She behaved as if she’d never had a man. He frowned. Could there be a virgin left in the world? Sometimes he doubted it.

“I’m not an old man,” he said angrily.

She was still trying to get her breath. “Oh, no, you’re definitely not old,” she managed. She could taste him on her mouth, smell the woodsy cologne he wore on her clothing.

He averted his eyes. He didn’t lose control of himself, ever. This was embarrassing. “Sorry,” he said stiffly.

She swallowed. “It’s okay. But I should go back to work now.”

“Yes, you should.”

She moved away from the wall, hoping she wasn’t more disheveled than she felt, and that Mavie wouldn’t be around to see her when she left.

He didn’t say a word. He watched her go, stiff and uncomfortable, and pondered Gelly’s remark that Morie was a rounder who was looking for a rich sugar daddy. He knew that wasn’t true. She might be poor. She might even have designs on him for his wealth—it wouldn’t be the first time. But she was innocent. He’d have bet the ranch on it.

MORIE AVOIDED THE OTHER cowboys when she went riding fence lines. She hoped she didn’t look as disconcerted and unsettled as she felt. The boss had kissed her. No, she corrected, that hadn’t been a kiss. That had been something a lot more overt and sensual. She’d been saucy and deliberately provocative. She’d taunted the sleeping bear, but she hadn’t expected such a response.

Her mouth still tingled from the kiss. He might not be the handsomest man around, but he knew exactly what to do with a woman. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. That would have been a disaster. He might have wanted her side of the story, but it was obvious that he believed part of Gelly’s story. He wanted Morie to apologize to that blond shark, did he? Well, hell would freeze over first. She was the injured party. Gelly should apologize, not her.

But Gelly was the woman in his life. She was wealthy and pretty and cultured. Morie had the same background, but she didn’t dare admit it. She couldn’t keep her job if the boss knew who her family was.

Which brought to mind another small problem. The boss was having a gala party on Saturday. Morie had been helping Mavie with recipes and tips on serving and place settings and even decorations. Mavie wanted her to help make the canapés. She’d even asked the boss, so Morie was in something of a spot.

As long as she could hide in the kitchen during the festivities, it would be all right. But her family traveled in the same social circles that the Kirk brothers did. It was possible, even probable, that there would be someone at that party who would recognize her. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to get this job, mainly because she wanted to prove to her parents and herself that she could make it in the world on her own, with no money and no influence. There was also the question of not being pursued for her wealth by some fortune-hunting male on the make.

She wasn’t going to lose her job. She just had to stay out of sight in the kitchen. If she refused to help Mavie, that would lead to questions she couldn’t answer. She agreed. But she was going to wear a kerchief over her hair and an overall and keep hidden. She only hoped none of the guests were comfortable enough to come in and speak to the cook. That wasn’t likely, though. Of course it wasn’t.

THE BIG HOUSE WAS ABLAZE with lights, inside and out. The weather was perfect. It was a beautiful spring night, the temperature was unusually comfortable and guests wandered around inside and out nibbling on canapés and drinking the best imported champagne.

Mavie was fascinated by the people she and her hired staff were feeding. “Did you see that movie star?” she exclaimed. “I just watched his last film, and now he’s got a series on one of the pay-perview channels. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Morie peered out and chuckled. She knew the man, who was sweet and unaffected by his great fame. “He’s a doll,” she said.

“There’s that soccer star who’s paid millions a year,” Mavie continued. “And that’s the president of one of those desert countries overseas!”

“Philippe Sabon,” Morie blurted out without thinking. Her father knew the man, whose wife was from Texas.

Mavie glanced at her suspiciously.

“I read about him in the newspapers,” Morie covered quickly. “What a story! He’s even more handsome in person!”

Mavie gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, he sure is.”

“We’d better get back to work,” Morie groaned. “Look at how fast those trays are going down!”

“Good thing we’ve got plenty of raw material in here.” Mavie chuckled.

They worked steadily for the next hour, making and baking succulent treats for the guests. The band was playing some lazy blues tunes, and a few couples were dancing in the big family room by the patio door.

“You should be in there dancing and having fun,” Mavie said. “You’re young enough to enjoy these parties.”

Morie gaped at her. “I’m the hired help.”

“Baloney. The boss doesn’t think like that.”

“Want to bet?” Morie murmured under her breath. She’d already had an unforgettable taste of the boss’s attitude toward the lower classes. It had a sting.

Mavie glanced her way. “You want to watch that Gelly person. She was raging to the boss about how you talked to her like a dog and said she was a useless person.”

“I said no such thing!” Morie replied indignantly.

“Just telling you what she’s saying” came the soft reply. “I’ve seen women like her all my life. They purr when they’re around the man in charge and claw when they’re not. She isn’t as wealthy as she makes herself out to be. One of my friends works for her folks, and gets paid nothing, not even minimum. She says they put on airs and pretend to be rich, but they’re barely middle class. Gelly’s hoping for a rich husband to prop up the family finances. She’s got her eye on the boss.”

“If he’s nuts enough to marry her, he’ll get what he deserves,” Morie pointed out. “That woman has more sharp edges than a razor’s blade.”

She nodded in agreement. “I think she does, too.”

It was almost ten o’clock. The staff would leave soon, and so would most of the guests. Morie would be glad to see her bed. She’d been on her feet since daylight. She was half-starved, as well, because she hadn’t had a dinner break. Neither had Mavie.

“I’m so hungry.” Morie sighed.

“Me, too. We’ll save a few canapés for ourselves,” she said, laughing. “I’ll put some on a plate for you to take back to your room.”

“Thanks, Mavie.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “You’re a wonderful little worker. I couldn’t have managed this alone.”

She grinned. “I like working in the kitchen.”

“Me, too. Call me old-fashioned, but I love to cook… .”

“WHERE’S THAT WONDERFUL cook?” came a familiar deep voice from the doorway. A minute later, Morie’s uncle Danny Brannt came through the doorway, laughing. He stopped dead when he spotted Morie.

She put her finger to her lips, when Mavie’s back was turned, and shook her head frantically.

“Who’s the cook?” he repeated, beaming at Mavie. “I just had to thank you for those delicious canapés. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted anything that good.”

“It was me—” Mavie laughed “—but my helper here came up with most of the recipes.” She indicated Morie. “She’s Morie,” she added. “I’m Mavis, but everyone calls me Mavie.”