Read Online Delilah's Weakness by Kathleen Creighton - Free Book Online Page B

serious."
    "You’re serious." Now anger became an ingredient in her confusion. She snatched her hand out of danger and stood up. "That’s just great. What did you do—get rid of Amos just so you could take his place?"
    "Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t mean to make you mad—"
    "Mad?
Me?
I never get mad." She had started for the sink, but now returned to clutch at the back of a chair. With icy control she said, "What I really am is curious. That man who just left here has been trying for two solid years to worm his way into control of this place by offering me free hired help—free this, free that. I thought his price was too high. Now I’m wondering what your price is. What do you want from me? Are you going to tell me there’s natural gas under my land? Hot water, maybe?"
    "What an interesting possibility," Luke said in the same mildly reproving manner that had made her feel so childish this morning. "I’ll have to look into it."
    "Over my dead body." She straightened and sniffed. "I don’t need your hired hand any more than I need Amos’s."
    "Or any more than you need legs," Luke said quietly. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. A slight smile played about his mouth. "But I don’t think you understand. I’m not trying to give you a hired hand. I’m offering to work for you."
    Seconds ticked slowly by, uncounted. Delilah lowered herself carefully into the chair and placed her hands palms down on the oilcloth. She felt a giddy urge to laugh. "Um, excuse me. You’re telling me you want to work for me? For nothing?"
    "Not for nothing. For room and board."
    "One of us," she said crisply, "is losing his mind."
    He moved, shifted in his chair, and it was as if he’d released a charge of pure animal magnetism. The air crackled with it, and Delilah found herself staring at the knot of his tie and remembering with full sensual recall the feel of his warm neck against the backs of her fingers. Dragging her gaze away with an effort of will, she gave a dismissive sniff and said lightly, "Well, I’m sorry, but I seriously doubt you’re qualified for the job anyway."
    "Oh, yeah?" His eyes smiled at her, quietly confident. "What makes you think that?"
    You’re too beautiful, she wanted to say.
You smell too good. You make me feel like Annie Oakley.
    Instead she snorted. "Oh, for heaven’s sake, be serious. Talk about overqualified! And look at yourself. Sheep ranching’s hard, dirty work."
    "Don’t let the tie fool you," Luke drawled, his eyes glittering. "I’ve worked oil rigs since I was nine."
    "What about recently?" she muttered doubtfully, adding, "You told me you were a city boy."
    "I’m a fast learner." He shifted again, becoming placating, as though she were an intractable child. "Look. Delilah. What’s the problem? You need help, and I owe you."
    "Oh, no. No." She stood up with an angry gesture. "Look,
Mr. MacGregor
…" She emphasized his name, reminding them both of who he was and where he really belonged.
    As she began to pace, rubbing defensively at her arms, her reactions zigzagged from anger to disbelief, and finally to unease. He seemed serious, so either he was completely crazy or he wanted something from her. But what? What could a stranded executive, a man she’d never heard of before in her life, possibly want from her? She took a deep breath, preparing to be reasonable.
    "I don’t mean to be rude, but you have to admit that you sound a little crazy. You are an executive, aren’t you? You’re so busy you fly your own plane to get where you want to go, and yet you crash–land in my pasture and the next day offer to work off the damage personally? I’m sorry, but I know executives. If you thought you owed me anything you’d offer to pay me off, not work. Executives value their time above anything in the world."
    Luke laughed good–naturedly. "That’s true enough, unless the executive happens to have more time than money."
    It was as if someone