Wanted: Christmas Mummy

The doctor smiled, as if enjoying himself. “That’s why Madge left that bedpan handy. If you hurry, you can take care of business before company arrives.”

Doug glared at him.

“BOSS, I STILL THINK this is crazy. The lady seemed nice last night. I’m sure the boys are fine.” Moss was following in the tracks of the snowplow down the snowy road to the ranch.

“One of the boys said she cooked dinner last night,” Curly added helpfully.

“Just hurry,” Doug ordered through gritted teeth. He didn’t feel like making conversation. His leg was in a temporary brace and he’d had to be carried to the truck. Jim had thrown in a pair of crutches at the last minute but had warned him to use them only for trips to the bathroom. At least he hadn’t offered a bedpan again.

In four or five days, Doug would have to return so they could put his leg in a cast. Until then he had to stay in bed. Great! Now, one of his cowboys would have to play nurse-maid, and they’d be two men shorter than they already were.

It was all that woman’s fault. Things had been going along just fine until she arrived. Honesty forced him to rephrase that statement. They’d been surviving until she arrived. They could’ve used a housekeeper, of course, but he’d just about given up on that plan.

“Who was that lady? The one you’re so worried about,” Moss asked, checking in the rearview mirror for his boss’s response.

“Uh, she’s a visitor.”

“Mighty pretty,” Curly said, turning to grin over his shoulder.

“She’s okay,” Doug muttered. He didn’t want to discuss her, or think about her, or remember her warmth, her curves, her cooking.

“Hey! Maybe she came in response to that ad!” Moss suddenly exclaimed, a big grin on his weathered face. “You know, the one Ben and Will—” His glance met Doug’s in the rearview mirror and he suddenly stopped talking. He’d known Doug long enough to recognize the danger signals.

Curly, too, looked at Doug and said nothing.

Moss cleared his throat. “Uh, want us to move the herd closer in, since the snow’s let up? It’d make it easier to feed them.”

Doug concurred with his suggestion, and any other conversation for the rest of the ride dealt with work. The drive seemed interminable to Doug, every jolt shooting pain through his entire body. Jim had given him pain pills, but he refused to take any until he made sure he had that woman out of his home.

He’d need his wits about him to get rid of her. Especially if she’d spent the past few hours charming his boys as she had done last night.

He’d checked himself out of the hospital long before he should’ve, according to Jim, who protested his decision, but Doug wasn’t going to let a little red tape interfere with protecting his children. When they reached the ranch house, Moss pulled the Jeep as close to the steps as possible behind the woman’s car. She was still here.

The two ranch hands both came to his door, opened it and began to ease him forward on the seat. He gritted his teeth at the pain.

“Easy, boss, we got you,” Moss muttered.

They carried him up the steps, his broken leg stuck straight out in front of him. Curly managed to get the front door open and they backed into the warmth of the hall. Silence greeted them.

“Where is everyone?” Curly asked, but Doug had just about reached the end of his patience. His leg was aching big-time.

“Just take me up to bed. Then we’ll sort everything out.”

They made their way up the stairs and Moss shoved open the door to his room. The two cowboys stopped in their tracks, and Doug, clinging to their broad shoulders, looked up to see what the holdup was.

What he saw was a rather shapely female posterior. Leslie Hibbets snapped to attention and whirled around. Before she could sputter anything, the boys came racing around the bed.

“Daddy!” Leslie stepped in their path before they could crash into the cowboys holding their father.

“You can see your dad in a minute. I think we’d better finish his bed first so he can lie down. You’ve been such super helpers, your dad will be so proud.”

Instead of the frightened faces he expected, his sons beamed at him and then scurried back to the other side of the bed. They never obeyed him like that! Stunned, he watched the lady also turn away. That was when he realized she’d been bent over his bed, making it up.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, all the frustration he felt evident in his voice.

She turned around again and stared at him. All warmth was gone from her blue eyes. “I used your bed last night. So I washed the sheets this morning and now we’re putting them back on.” There was a challenge in there, as if daring him to complain.

“Wow! You must’ve been up early,” Moss said before Doug could speak. His voice fairly dripped with admiration, but Doug suspected it had nothing to do with her early rise. She looked just as sexy this morning in her tight jeans as she had last night.

Her smile didn’t lessen her sexiness.

“Not too early. The boys said they always get up at six.” As if just now remembering the two cowboys were still holding him, she hurried back to her bedmaking.

“You lucky devil,” Moss muttered in Doug’s ear. Doug glared at him.

“Each of you get a pillow,” Leslie ordered his children, and they hurried to follow her orders.

What had she done—hypnotized them?

“Now you can put Mr. Graybow in bed,” she suggested to Moss and Curly, stepping back out of the way.

As eager as his body was to make the acquaintance of something soft and stationary, Doug wasn’t a happy camper. For some reason, he grew less so as the fresh smell of clean sheets hit him. He hadn’t bothered with such niceties since Agnes left. He hadn’t had time, he defended himself, as he closed his eyes and relaxed for just a moment.

“Does he have any medicine he’s supposed to take?” that lilting voice asked, and his eyes popped open.

“Yeah, some pain pills,” Moss answered before he could stop him.

“I don’t need them.”

All three adults gave him a derisive look.

“Do you hurt, Daddy?” Gareth asked, leaning toward him.

He’d never lied to his children. Well, almost never. Only for their own good. “A little, son.”

“Then you should take your medicine or you won’t get better. ‘Member? You told us.”

Leslie walked into his bathroom and he heard the water run.

“I’m going to be fine,” he told his son, trying to inject a heartiness into his voice to convince him. The headache pounding at his temples made it difficult, though.

“Here’s some water, sweetie. Maybe if you help your dad, he’ll take his medicine. I’m sure he’s not afraid since he’s so big and strong.”

Even though there wasn’t a hint of laughter in her voice, the snickers from his men told him he was right on target when he thought she was making fun of him.

“Here’s the medicine, Justin. You hand it to him and then Gareth can give him the water,” Moss said helpfully.

Doug had no choice but to follow orders.

“Have you two already had breakfast? We were going to have pancakes and you’re welcome to join us,” Leslie offered the cowboys, that warm smile on her lips.

His gut clinched as he watched his men explain that they’d been dragged away from the hospital before eating. Without even a glance in his direction, Leslie led the drooling men from his room.

“Do you want some pancakes, Daddy? We’ll bring you some,” Justin said, patting his father’s cheek.

At least someone hadn’t forgotten him. Not that he wanted Leslie Hibbets to think about him. Of course not. But Moss and Curly could at least remember he was alive.

“No, son, but thanks for offering. I believe I’ll just sleep. You two will be all right, won’t you? You won’t get into trouble?”

“’Course not, Daddy,” Gareth said. “Leslie’s here.”

His mind was growing cloudy and his lips didn’t seem to work too well, but there was something he needed to say. Something about Leslie. Laughter floated up the stairs as he slid into unconsciousness. Yes. There was definitely something about Leslie.

LESLIE POURED MOSS a second cup of coffee and returned to her chair. They’d enjoyed a big breakfast. In between bites, the two men had filled Leslie in on the doctor’s diagnosis.

“So Mr. Graybow is going to have to remain in bed for four or five days? Who will take care of him?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll have to take turns, though we were already short a hand before the boss got hurt. That will make us twice as short.”

Moss glared at his friend, Leslie noticed, when Curly started to speak.

“Maybe you can hire someone to take care of him.” She thought again about the man upstairs refusing to hire her because he was short of money. The hospital bills wouldn’t help.

“Well, it’s kind of difficult…” Moss began and then trailed off, looking as if he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal.

“Look, I’d volunteer,” she began, but before Moss’s grin could spread too wide, she added, “but it wouldn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Curly asked. “It’d be perfect.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Mr. Graybow doesn’t want me here.”

“He hasn’t tasted your pancakes,” Moss said, his smile still in place.

She chuckled but shook her head no. “Thanks for the compliment, but he made his wishes clear last night.”

“Last night, he thought he could manage. It’s pretty obvious now that he can’t.” Moss watched her reaction.

“We can’t cook for Daddy, Leslie. How will he get something to eat if you don’t stay?” Gareth asked.

“And us, too. You promised to bake cookies,” Justin reminded her.

Leslie knew the boys were trying to manipulate her into feeling sorry for them. They’d already suggested several times that she should stay.

Not that she disagreed with them. She hadn’t been sure what she’d been looking for when she set out on her travels, but a home and family were definitely on the list. This job would be perfect for a few months. She could try out being a mom, see if she really wanted children. The cowboys seemed nice, too. She might even meet that special man she had dreamed of. There certainly seemed to be enough men around to choose from. Immediate thoughts of the one upstairs were hurriedly dismissed.

“I thought we’d have time…” she began in response to the child’s reminder.

Justin’s mouth sagged and Leslie hesitated. “Maybe…maybe I could just stay until tomorrow. That would give you time to find someone, wouldn’t it?” she asked Moss.

“And we could make cookies?” Justin asked.

She nodded to the child, bringing a smile back to his face.

“I’ll sure try to find someone,” Moss promised, his look as eager as the other three males in the room.

“I can do some extra cooking, too, to help out. Things that can be frozen,” she added, her mind racing with the possibilities. “You do have someone to cook for you, don’t you?” she asked Moss.

“Blackie cooks. But lately he’s been having to be in the saddle most of the time. What with the shortage, you know. We’re all mostly living off sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches? After working outside in the cold all day?” she asked, horrified. She’d been cooking for her invalid mother, but she understood the appetites hardworking men could have. “I’ll try to help out while I’m here.”

“That’d be great,” Moss said as he stood.

“But there’s not a lot of supplies here,” she hurriedly added, knowing once the two men left the kitchen she wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions. They’d be out in the cold, working.

“Blackie just got a full order in three days ago. I bet the boss didn’t get around to taking his share of it. You go on down to the bunkhouse and get whatever you need. The boys will show you.”

“All right. I’ll try to have something fixed for dinner when you get in.”

They grinned at her and stepped out onto the snowy porch. As they walked down the steps, Curly said to his friend, “Man, how did we get so lucky?”

Leslie shook her head. The grouch upstairs wasn’t going to think her staying was luck. Unless it was the bad kind. But what could she do? He certainly couldn’t take care of anything since he had to stay in bed. And she was just staying until they found someone else.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself as she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Somehow she didn’t think Moss thought it would be that easy, in spite of the smile he’d given her. If it were, why hadn’t Doug Graybow already filled the position he’d advertised for?

She told the boys to clear the table while she checked on their father. With a few grumbles, they started carrying the dishes to the dishwasher. After several minutes of working in silence, Justin whispered, “Do you think she’ll stay?”

“Maybe. But how come we have to work? I thought a mommy was supposed to take care of us,” Gareth complained.

“I know, but…but I kind of like her. I think she’d make a good mommy. She smells better’n Agnes.”

“Yeah, but she hasn’t made any cookies yet. If she doesn’t make cookies, she can’t be my mommy,” Gareth declared, his jaw squared in determination just like his father’s.

“Okay. She has to make cookies,” Justin agreed. “But do you think Daddy will let her stay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we just won’t tell him.”

“I think he’ll find out. He always does. And then we get in trouble. How about we let him have some of the cookies? I bet he likes ’em, too.”

“Okay, but not too many. I’m this hungry for cookies,” Gareth exclaimed, flinging his arms wide. Unfortunately, he forgot about the glass in his hand, and it went flying across the kitchen to shatter against the cabinet.

“Uh-oh.”

LESLIE EASED OPEN the bedroom door and looked in. Doug Graybow lay sprawled out on the big bed, his eyes closed.

“Mr. Graybow?” she whispered.

When there was no response, she crept over to the bed. He was a big man, his hard, muscled body covering much of the mattress. Even in sleep he looked powerful.

A shiver ran over her, and she took an involuntary step backward. As if recognizing her presence, he stirred and groaned. Afraid she’d wakened him, she froze, not relaxing until his breathing evened out again. Then she frowned.

The doctor had obviously split the seam on his jeans since the material flapped around the temporary brace. But he couldn’t be comfortable with those tight jeans around his waist. She should have had him remove them before taking his medicine.

She looked around the room, as if seeking help. If he were a woman, she wouldn’t hesitate to make him more comfortable. Maybe she could get the twins… No, they weren’t strong enough.

The cowboys wouldn’t be back until dark.

That left only her.

If only she could just think of the man as her patient, not as a hunk of masculinity that would make many a female heart swoon. She remembered the way he’d looked when he’d first opened the door to her. Even then, with that ferocious frown, she’d registered his sex appeal.

“Stop that!” she whispered to herself. When he didn’t stir, she stepped closer to the bed. Leaning over him, she inched his T-shirt up from his waist, her fingers brushing against warm flesh.

Just below his belly button, centered on a flat, hard stomach, were the buttons to his jeans. She licked her dry lips and then reached to unfasten them. The jeans were tight and she had to struggle to push each button through its hole. A sigh of relief escaped when she felt his cotton briefs beneath her fingers. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done had he been one of those men who didn’t bother with underwear.

Standing up, Leslie stretched her neck, stiff with the tension of the past few minutes. Now all she had to do was slide the jeans down those long, lean legs. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

As if in relief that the tight jeans were loosened, Doug shifted on the bed. Leslie jumped as if he’d opened his eyes. “Oh!’

She waited until he settled again before moving to the end of the bed. With the covers pulled back, she thought she could pull the pant legs and the jeans would slip off.

A minute later she realized her theory wasn’t working. After studying the situation, she eased onto the bed. With a cautious look at his smooth, relaxed features, she straddled him and lifted his hips, pulling the jeans at the same time.

Just as she was congratulating herself on the success of the operation, large hands spanned her waist and pulled her forward. With her heart thumping like mad, unable to breathe, she found herself wrapped in Doug Graybow’s arms, pressed against his lean length.

He muttered something in her ear, but she couldn’t distinguish his words over her own heart beating. As she was about to protest loudly and shove against her captor’s hold, she realized his eyes were closed.

Could he still be asleep?

She waited on tenterhooks for him to move again. When he didn’t, she eased back from his embrace. With a sigh of relief, she decided he had no idea what had happened. Apparently, her rather intimate position over him had awakened some memory.

Her cheeks burned but at least the man wouldn’t remember.

She slipped off the bed and returned to the foot of it. Now that the jeans were below his hips, she was able to pull them off without any difficulty. She tried to keep her eyes firmly fastened to the denim material, but the stark white briefs and the warm skin drew her gaze.

She might have lingered if it hadn’t been for the shattering of glass in the kitchen below.

Hurriedly, she whisked the cover over his now-bare legs and ran from the room.

Chapter Four

After a trip to the bunkhouse where Leslie started a pot of stew for the cowboys’ dinner and gathered supplies to bring back, she and the twins returned to the house.

“Are we going to make the cookies now, Leslie?” Justin asked anxiously as they entered the house.

“In just a minute. We should check on your dad first.” Before she could say anything else, the boys set down their sacks and ran for the stairs. “Quietly,” she called. “He may still be sleeping.”

She checked her watch as she followed the boys. Probably he wouldn’t stir for another couple of hours. At least she hoped so. That would give her time to fix lunch and make cookies with the boys—and recover from the embarrassment of undressing their father.

When she reached the bedroom door, the boys were standing by the bed, whispering. Doug Graybow didn’t even flicker an eyelash at the noise. He was obviously still in a deep sleep. Probably the best thing for him since Moss had told her he had a mild concussion.

“Okay, boys. Go hang up your coats and wash your hands and we’ll make cookies,” she whispered. Like twin tornadoes, the two moved past her and out of sight.

She stood there in the relative quiet, staring at the unconscious man. The urge to smooth his brow, to adjust his covers, grew stronger the longer she watched. With an abrupt nod to no one in particular, she pulled the door to, then drew a deep breath.

She was only going to be here a day or two. Moss would find someone. Of course he would. And then she’d be on her way back to Kansas to get on with her life—whatever that might be.

In spite of everything, Mr. D. Graybow had made it clear he didn’t want her working for him. So she wouldn’t. She’d find a place for herself, somewhere she’d be happy. It just wouldn’t be here.

And that was just as well. The man was as sexy as sin, even with a concussion and a broken leg. Another deep breath helped her clear her head of such ridiculous thoughts. Which was a good thing, because the boys’ room door opened and the two whirlwinds were beaming up at her, extending their hands for approval.

DOUG SLOWLY BECAME conscious of his surroundings. His room. Not the hospital. Why had he thought— The pain that shot up his leg when he tried to move it answered that question.

Along with that bit of information came the rest of it. The woman, his chasing her, then his fall. The hospital with Jim Kelsey fussing over him. Then his arrival back home to find the woman making his bed with clean sheets, charming his boys into instant obedience and shaming him into taking his medicine.

At least she was long gone. Moss knew what he wanted, and he could rely on Moss to carry out his orders. He looked at the window and figured he had an hour or two before his workers would return to the bunkhouse. Probably the boys were down there with Blackie.

He looked around him for the crutches Jim had given him. As much as he’d hated that damn bedpan, he kind of wished he had it here now. Getting to the crutches leaning against the wall by the door wasn’t going to be easy.

But he didn’t have much choice. He sure couldn’t wait a couple of hours.

Throwing back the covers, he slid to the side of the bed. Since he couldn’t bend his leg because of the brace, he was debating whether he should slide on the floor to the crutches, or hop on his good leg, when the door opened.

“You’re awake!” that woman exclaimed.

Red suffused his cheeks as he grabbed the covers. He suddenly realized he was only wearing his briefs and a T-shirt.

“Yes, I’m awake. Where are my jeans?” He could’ve sworn he’d had them on when he got home. Looking at his visitor, he surprised a bright blush on her cheeks.

“I—I removed them. You couldn’t get comfortable, they were so tight.”

Now he was as embarrassed as she looked. Particularly as a lingering scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. He felt a vague stirring of some memory but it eluded him. Upset with both himself and her, he said suddenly, “What are you still doing here?”

He hadn’t meant his question to sound so abrupt, so angry, but it had. He knew it by the way she stiffened.

“Taking care of you and your children until Moss can find someone else.”

Doug grimaced. Moss knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of finding someone to come take care of them. So what was he pulling?

“You agreed to do that?”

“Yes. I don’t have to return home at once, and it seemed cruel to abandon the three of you.”

“Yeah. Especially since it’s your fault,” he growled.

Her shoulders went rigid, drawing his attention to her full breasts. His mouth was suddenly dry.

“I don’t quite see how your broken leg could be my fault.”

“I’ve lived here thirty-two years, all my life, and never fallen down those stairs. I wouldn’t have this time except you jerked away from me.”

“Oh? So I should have let you paw me to keep you from breaking your leg?” She stood with her hands on her shapely hips, righteous anger on her face.

He stared back at her, trying to keep his gaze above her neck. “Paw you? I was trying to stop you from getting lost in a snowstorm!”

“It wasn’t that bad and you know it! That’s just an excuse!”

He gaped, unable to believe what she was saying. Finally he pushed himself as erect as he could manage. “Listen, lady, if I wanted to ‘paw’ someone, as you put it, there are plenty of women who would volunteer. I wouldn’t have to settle for a—” He couldn’t think how to finish his insult.

“Then call one of those numerous women to take care of you now. Because I’m not going to!” With a slam of the door, she disappeared from view, leaving him tense and upset. And stranded a long way from the bathroom.

“Wait!” he called and listened anxiously for returning footsteps. Nothing. Damn. His temper had gotten him in trouble again.

He leaned back against the pillow, drained by their argument, his headache returning.

“Hi, Daddy,” the twins chorused as they opened the door.

“Boys.” He sighed in relief. “Thanks for coming. Could you hand me my crutches?”

His children looked at each other. Then they shook their heads and started toward the bed, Gareth carefully carrying a glass.

“Boys! The crutches. You forgot the crutches. They’re by the door,” he said, his situation getting more desperate by the moment.