The Rancher's Mistress. Kay Thorpe
concern? I wouldn’t have thought you had any hang-ups about nudity in your line.’
Her first instinct was to hotly deny the implication, her second and more compelling one to poke him in the eye, if only metaphorically. He wasn’t the first to take it for granted that stripping down to the bare essentials was the only way to make a living in the modelling world, and he almost certainly wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t make it any less aggravating.
‘I suppose you didn’t see anything you haven’t seen a thousand times before at that!’ she countered scathingly.
His lips widened in a brief, derisive smile. ‘A thousand might be stretching it a piece. If you’re through, I wouldn’t mind getting in there myself.’
‘By all means.’ Clutching the far from secure towel to her, Alex moved to pass him as he stepped to one side, promptly tripped over a trailing edge of towel and was saved from measuring her length only by the speed of Cal Forrester’s reactions. Held by the arm he had shot about her waist, with the slipping towel threatening to expose her assets to even closer scrutiny, she found dignity taking second place to the sudden vital awareness of his hard masculinity. ‘The head bull’, Greg had called him, but bulls were big and cumbersome, not lean and lithe. She felt her stomach muscles contract.
‘Better watch your step,’ he said, letting go of her. ‘You seem pretty accident-prone.’
‘I will, don’t worry,’ she retorted, pulling herself together. ‘Thanks again for the...assistance. I’d have been lost without you.’
The satire engendered a sudden glint in the grey eyes. ‘Any time.’
Alex made her escape without further mishap, gathering her wrap and slippers from the chair where she had left them as she went. As first impressions went she had certainly made an impact, she reflected wryly. Not that Cal Forrester had looked all that impressed, she had to admit.
Taking a look in the dressing-table mirror back in her room, she could hardly blame him. With her hair still tucked under the shower-cap and her eyes reddened by the soap, she looked far from a pretty sight. She dragged off the cap to allow her hair to tumble down about her shoulders, dropping the towel to reach for her wrap.
Slenderly curved at waist and hip, breasts high and firm, legs long and shapely, she had received many offers of nude work over the years, but it had never attracted her. She’d advertised everything from hosiery to make-up, modelled catalogue clothing and hostessed a television quiz-show for a couple of series, among other things, but had never quite managed to gain one of the real big-time contracts that would have made her a household name. Not that it mattered any more. She was through with that part of her life for good.
Throwing on a pair of harem trousers and a loose, silky top, she put a brush through her hair and applied a layer of amber lipstick. Her brows and lashes were dark enough not to need any enhancement, not that she would have bothered even if they hadn’t been. She much preferred to go natural when she wasn’t working.
The thought of seeing Cal Forrester again after that bathroom fiasco brought warmth to her cheeks. Right as she’d no doubt been in taking it that hers was far from the first female body he’d seen in the nude, it made little difference to her feelings when it came to her own exposure. She was no prude, but neither was she an exhibitionist—although he obviously took her for such.
What she certainly wasn’t going to do was let him see any discomfiture on her part, she told herself firmly. Let him make what assumptions he liked. What could a jumped-up cowboy stuck out here in the back of beyond know about it anyway?
Coming from just below her window, the sudden and enthusiastic clanging of iron on iron made her jump. The anticipated summons to supper, she assumed. The sun was lowering fast, gilding the edges of the clouds and spreading deep shadows across the landscape. Whatever she might feel about the owner, the Lazy Y was no disappointment so far, Alex acknowledged. She couldn’t wait to sample the rest.
CHAPTER TWO
STILL closed when she emerged from her room, the next door along opened, as if on cue, just as she reached it Dressed now in pale grey trousers and black shirt open on the brown column of his throat, the Lazy Y’s owner looked less of a cowboy but no less of a threat to her peace of mind as he ran his eyes over her, that same, derisive little smile plucking at his lips.
‘I guess I neglected to welcome you properly back there,’ he said. ‘Other things on my mind.’ He put out a hand, one dark brow lifting sardonically at her involuntary withdrawal. ‘It’s to shake, that’s all.’
Biting back the caustic retort, Alex extended her own hand, tensing as the long brown fingers closed briefly about it. There was no disputing his physical charisma; he radiated vibrant masculinity from every pore. She could sense the latent power in that leanly muscled build.
‘It’s good of you to give me the opportunity to see Greg again,’ she said, doing her best to conceal her reactions. ‘I really am grateful.’
His shrug was dismissive. ‘No big deal. Let’s go and eat.’
Margot came out from one of the rooms opposite as they moved towards the stairs. She was still wearing jeans, though the blue and white shirt had been replaced by a plain white one. She looked at Alex with an admiration untainted by any hint of feminine jealousy.
‘You look wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Isn’t she just gorgeous, Cal?’
‘Without a doubt,’ he agreed on a dry note. ‘A regular Helen of Troy!’
Capable of launching a regular wallop if pushed much further! thought Alex darkly, fixing a smile on her face for Margot’s benefit.
‘I think I might be a little over-dressed,’ she said.
Margot shook her head emphatically. ‘Oh, no, you’re just right! Everyone knows Greg’s sister is a model. They’d all be disappointed if you turned up looking ordinary. Not that you could, anyway,’ she added quickly. ‘Look ordinary, I mean. You’re not—’
‘I’d quit while you’re ahead,’ advised her brother. She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Alex knows what I mean.’
‘All the way,’ Alex assured her. ‘And I’m flattered.’ She fell into step with her sister-in-law to descend the stairs, leaving Cal to follow on behind. ‘Greg already go down, did he?’
‘No, but he won’t be a minute. I’d have waited for him but, like he says, we’re not joined at the hip.’
A pretty insensitive thing to say to a new bride, Alex reflected, doubting if Margot was quite as impervious as she appeared to be on the surface. Greg needed to practise some tender loving care.
People were flooding into the dining room, the majority of them dressed the way Margot was, with only a couple of the women wearing skirts. There was just the one long table, with no particular seat allocation from what Alex could gather.
Cal pulled out a chair for her halfway down the table and took the one next to her himself, introducing her to those within earshot. Seated down at the other end of the table, Margot looked to be deep in animated conversation with her own nearest neighbours.
‘Greg tells us you’re pretty big in Europe, Alex,’ said one of the women.
‘Greg exaggerates,’ Alex replied lightly. ‘I’m just one of many.’
‘Modest as they come!’ declared her brother, passing behind her on his way to the chair left vacant at Margot’s side. ‘Hi, everybody! Had a good day?’
The ensuing chorus established that everyone had indeed. Glad to be out of the limelight, Alex listened with enjoyment for the following few minutes as one after another expounded on events.
Eighteen was the lower age limit for guests, Greg had told her, though most of this group were in their thirties and forties, with one couple approaching retirement age from the look of them. Children would be