already had one?
What if he offered Leigh the job?
“Uh-oh.” Barry’s eyes went wary. “I know that look, boss-man. And it always scares me. What are you thinking?”
Something very stupid probably.
Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets, and struck a casual pose, hoping to appear innocent. Knowing he failed. Innocence wasn’t one of the things he did well. He continued the effort though. Never let it be said he gave up easily.
“That maybe I’ve”—he cleared his throat—“um, been a bit hasty about Ms. Leigh.”
“Hasty? You? Never!”
Sarcastic son of a bitch, wasn’t he? Also lucky that men striving for the guileless look don’t generally hit people.
Tyler shoved his hands deeper instead, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “What? I can’t change my mind? I’m just thinking I might have judged her too harshly, that’s all. I’m trying to be fair about this.”
“Holy sh—” The expletive broke off as Barry staggered back a few paces in overblown shock. Then he caught himself and advanced again, eyes narrowed. “Okay, bub, who are you and what have you done with Tyler James?”
Screw guileless.
“Beanpole, if you’re looking for a fat lip, you’re very close to getting one.”
“Hey, man, you’re the one who said the chick was dangerous, an unstable devil-worshipping kook, a bad influence on the boys.”
“No, I didn’t.” Tyler might have thought it, but he didn’t recall actually saying it aloud. “Patton’s the one who said that.”
“Well, you believed her!”
“Maybe. But Farrell’s damn black-marker fax memos said the same thing. Sort of.”
“Ty, Farrell just said Molly is a Wiccan. Just like some people are Christian, some are Jewish, some Buddhist… Wicca is her religion—and an honorable one with high ethics and roots that stretch back to megalithic times when people revered the feminine principle of the universe as the divine creative force. That doesn’t make her dangerous. Wiccans don’t even believe in a devil, much less worship one. They regard all life as sacred and connected; and see deity as multifaceted but balanced energy, manifested archetypically in the form of a supreme Mother Goddess and her consort God. In essence, Wicca is simply an idealistic Earth-centered brand of spirituality that falls under the general heading of ‘Neo-Pagan religion’—a growing trend in today’s world.”
Uh-huh.
His lanky assistant had been web-surfing again. Tyler could always tell.
“Did you memorize that off a new-age site?”
Barry grinned. “Yeah. Interesting stuff. I’m thinking of becoming a Druid myself.”
He was probably joking, but with Barry you could never be sure.
Tyler sighed. On the one hand, this info did ease his mind. A little. He still didn’t approve of what he’d been told of the lady’s lifestyle and ideology. He still considered her a threat. But the adrenaline rush that hit when he looked at her warned the danger was more to him than the kids. Did he really want her on his staff, nearby every day? And night…
Shit, he hadn’t gotten where he was by playing it safe.
Throwing caution to the breeze—even if it was artificial in here—he met Barry’s eyes. “Okay, okay, she’s a nature-worshipper, not a devil-worshipper like Patton said.”
As though that made a difference? God, it was still wacko. But when the wacko came in such attractive packaging…
A bad influence, huh?
Tyler wondered, suddenly, how bad she really was—and couldn’t help hoping the answer was very.
Barry’s grin scaled down to a smirk. “Even if she were a devil-worshipper, I should think you’d like that. Didn’t your second wife call you ‘The Prince of Darkness’?”
“She meant it as a compliment.” And there was nothing Satanic about it. A little sinful, maybe. It referred to his prowess in the dark, under the—
Oh, never mind what it referred to. How did they get off on this tangent, anyway?
“Forget it. We’re discussing Molly Leigh, not my ex-wives.” His chest expanded with an aggravated breath as he stared up into the endless blue beyond the dome, then let his gaze lower, slowly, to the woman and children on the white sand beach.
As he watched, Molly ruffled the twins’ red hair and rubbed their little backs while they clung to her. Then she beckoned to the boy with the St. Bernard. Steve’s namesake that one had to be. The boy hesitated an instant, then dropped the leash and ran into her waiting arms, joining his brothers in the group hug. Very touching. Snow White and the three dwarves.
Tyler’s throat tightened at the sight, and he rapidly rethought his idea. Maybe he didn’t need this chick around, after all. Why would he want this kind of competition with his nephews?
“Well, if you want my opinion, the kids look healthy, so she’s apparently done okay with them so far,” Barry said, sounding blissfully unaware of the mental stew boiling nearby. “And I’ve talked with her enough on the phone to believe she honestly cares about them.”
“So you mentioned before.” Even more, it looked like the kids cared about her. Not that Tyler blamed them. What male of any age wouldn’t be smitten by a woman like that?
There lay the problem. If he wanted his nephews raised the right way—his way—he had to be the primary influence in their lives. Which he could see now would never happen with Molly Leigh in the picture. With her around, he’d be lucky to have any influence. It might be a little rough on the boys at first being separated from her, but they’d adjust. He’d lost his mother when he was the twins’ age, and he’d adjusted. Molly wasn’t their mother anyway. They called her “aunt,” he’d been told, but she wasn’t even that. This was for their own good.
The tightness in Tyler’s throat began to feel more like a noose around his neck. Yeah, a governess like her would be disaster. She’d end up governing way too much. It had been a dumb-ass idea from the start. He’d been thinking with his libido again, and his libido always thought wrong. Six failed marriages were proof of that.
And, no, damn it, he wasn’t jealous of the obvious affection the boys had for her. Affection that he wanted… Needed?
Aw, screw it. He just didn’t want his nephews raised by some flaky little…little witch. Which rhymed with another female epithet, and she was probably one of those, too; the good-looking ones always were. He was simply guarding the kids’ welfare, doing what was best for them. He was—
Molly turned, and he saw her face. Even worse, he felt sure she saw him, too, despite the partial veil of vines. Her eyes struck his like an electric shock jolting through him. Tyler groaned at the impact.
Oh, God…
He was lost, that’s what he was.
Beside him, Barry panted like a dog. “Zowie! Be still my beating heart!” He slapped a hand over his chest. “Hey, Ty, don’t look now, but I think we’ve been spotted. Time to greet the gang. Do you wanna make the job offer, or shall I?”
“What offer?” The words came out strained and hoarse. Tyler couldn’t tear his gaze away from Molly’s, could barely hear over the thunder in his ears. Was that the pounding of his pulse?
Barry’s voice sounded through the din. “The governess’s job. I assume that is what this discussion is about, right? You’re going to offer her the position.”
“Nope.” Tyler had a better position in mind for her. Under him for starters. Then they could move on to a sensual smorgasbord of others. He knew lots. And he was determined to try every one of them with the bewitching Molly Leigh.
“I’m going to marry her,” he announced, and reached to sweep the vines aside in order to step through them.
“Whoa!”
A heavy grip on his shoulder reined him in, and he turned to meet Barry’s censoring stare. Exasperation tinged his friend’s hushed tone.
“Ty, why do you always do this?”
“Do what?” Tyler shrugged off the hand and glared while Barry heaved a long-suffering sigh.<
br />
“You know what I’m talking about. The way you leap into relationships without looking. Where women are concerned, you’re about as subtle as a bulldozer.”
What was wrong with bulldozers? They got the job done and did it fast, no beating around the bush. Not that that made the analogy any more flattering.
“I always look,” Tyler defended himself. “I just looked now, didn’t I? And I like what I saw.” A lot. “You have a problem with that?”
“I don’t, but your latest quarry might, O-Great-White-Hunter-of-Female-Flesh. That girl is not your usual sort of meat. I’m advising that you tread softly here. Would it kill you to strike up an acquaintance first? You know, try to make friends with a lady before slamming a wedding ring on her finger? Have you ever heard of dating?” Barry offered one of his most maddening grins along with the question. “It’s a very useful social convention. You should try it sometime.”
“And you should try minding your own business.”
“Which is, for all intents and purposes, helping you mind yours. I’m trying to steer you onto the right path, man.”
Tyler’s teeth grated. He hated this lecture. He’d heard it too often already, and it never sounded any better. He didn’t have the time, energy, or patience for dating, damn it. It just made him feel like he was campaigning for public office, trying to get the girl’s vote. He had to be on his best behavior. He had to be nice. Who needed that kind of aggravation? In business, when he saw something he wanted, he went after it, no holds barred. Why should women be any different?
“Hey, in the old days, most marriages were arranged, right? No dating then,” he pointed out. “Let’s face it, it’s still more a business deal than anything else. At least I am decent enough to marry. Plenty of other men in my position would just keep a stable of mistresses. The fact I want a wife ought to say something good about me, shouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, and the fact you can’t hang on to a wife says something else, but we won’t go into that right now.”
“Thank you.” Tyler’s eyes gleamed a warning.
Which Barry, as usual, ignored. “Listen, Romeo, all I’m asking you to do is think this time before you go jumping in head first. Get to know the girl. Give her a chance to know you. Okay?”
No. That would never work.
“Beanpole, perhaps you haven’t noticed, but women usually don’t like me after they get to know me. That’s why I have to marry them fast.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Ty. You have many redeeming virtues.”
“Such as?” He waited while the silence lengthened. “Barry…”
“Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”
“With what?”
Tyler was rich and good in bed. Those were the only “virtues” he could think of. They were all he’d ever needed to get a woman to say yes. Money and sex, what else was there? Why did women always end up wanting more?
Worse yet, why had he begun to feel he wanted more himself?
“Carlotta’s a woman!” Barry piped up triumphantly.
Like this was news?
“I know she’s a woman. I was married to her, remember?” He had the scars to prove it, too.
“And she likes you, doesn’t she?”
“Only because we’re divorced now.” That marriage had been one of Tyler’s worst, in fact. Carlotta was from a circus family. She knew how to throw knives. And had a razor-edged temper to match. And he hadn’t discovered any of that till after the wedding. His mistake.
Did Beanpole get tired of being right all the time?
Okay, so maybe if he’d bothered to find out more about his wives beforehand, none of them would ever have become his wives—
“Speaking of which, did I tell you Carlotta called this morning?” Barry interrupted the musing. “She said she’s sorry for the short notice, and hopes it won’t inconvenience us, but she wants to use the Ranch for a fashion-shoot. Her other locale cancelled on her, and she needs a new backdrop for LFF’s swimsuit issue.” He