“The deer.”
“Aye. So would I. And so would the buck I killed this morning, Libby. Please try to remember that when you bite into one of his steaks this winter. Have ya ever had venison?”
“No. Will you give me a steak?”
“Aye. And a roast or two, if ya want.”
“Oh,” Libby said, suddenly remembering her earlier decision. “I’m cooking a chicken for supper tomorrow and thought you and Robbie and John would like to come over and share it with me.”
For the life of her, Libby could not read the expression that suddenly came into Michael’
s eyes. “Are ya stuffing the chicken?” he asked thickly, stepping closer. “And making gravy and mashed potatoes?”
Libby stepped closer herself, nodding. “I was also thinking of baking an apple pie for dessert.”
Michael took hold of her shoulders and leaned down until his nose was nearly touching hers. “Ya bake an apple pie, lass, and I’ll bring the ice cream. And a good bottle of wine.”
His voice was guttural, almost seductive, and Libby couldn’t decide if his passion was directed at her or at the meal she was planning.
A giggle sounded beside them, and Libby looked over to find Irisa, her hand covering her smiling mouth, staring at them.
Michael straightened, and Libby quickly turned away to hide her flaming face. She took off the hat and jacket, handed them to Irisa, gathered up her purse, and dug inside it for her list of things to buy.
“What time?” Michael asked.
Libby looked up. “What time for what?”
“Supper. What time do you want us to come over? And thank you for including John.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t think of not inviting John. I’m anxious to meet him. What time is good for you?”
“Six.”
“Then six it is,” Libby agreed, walking to the counter with her list.
Michael followed. “Did ya get the box Robbie sent?” he asked, stopping her before she could reach Harry and Dwayne. “If ya don’t wish to do whatever it is he wants, the boy will understand.”
Libby smiled ever so sweetly. “The note said you’d compensate me,” she whispered, so only he could hear. “And I’m warning you, I don’t come cheap.”
Michael raised one eyebrow and looked at Libby so intensely it was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames. She quickly stepped back, trying to push down the blush climbing her cheeks. What had possessed her to say such a thing?
“Leysa just came in,” Dwayne said, walking up to them.
“She can show you the storefront now. Mornin’, MacBain.”
With one last heated look, Michael turned and nodded to Dwayne. “Have those .270
shells come in yet?” he asked. “And I’m ready to order that knife we talked about for Robbie. Are ya sure it will be here in time for Christmas?”
Libby tried to stifle her gasp, she really did. But it came out anyway. Michael looked down at her, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed with weary patience.
Libby held up her hand before he could speak. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to know why you’re buying a child a knife for Christmas.”
Taking her at her word, Michael turned and followed Dwayne to the counter, leaving Libby to gape at his back.
Dammit. She did want to know. Why was he buying Robbie such a dangerous weapon?
And what kind of Christmas present was a knife, anyway? The boy should be getting toys, a Walkman, a bike, or socks and sweaters—not something he could maim himself with.
Irisa drew Libby’s attention and introduced her to Leysa, Dwayne’s wife. Leysa was maybe ten years older than Libby, a good foot taller, with lots of long, wavy hair held away from her face by two beautiful wooden barrettes.
She was cradling a young infant in the crook of her arm.
“My sister-law, Leysa,” Irisa said. “Her job to care for store. She deal you the rent.”
Libby couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. Both women were absolutely beautiful, neat as an operating room, and such unlikely wives for Harry and Dwayne that she simply had to know more about them. “Hello, Leysa. I’m Libby,” she said, nodding as she lightly touched the sleeping infant’s hand. “Are you and Irisa from Russia?”
Leysa smiled warmly and held out her child for Libby to take. Surprised but delighted, Libby carefully cradled the baby in one arm and fingered its wrinkled little chin with the other.
“I am Ukrainian,” Leysa told her in heavily accented but perfect English. “And Irisa is from Croatia. We came here four years ago, after meeting Harry and Dwayne at a party in Moscow,” she continued at Libby’s questioning look.
“They were searching for wives, and we… ” She looked at Irisa and smiled, then back at Libby. “We were searching for husbands.”
“We pick good men,” Irisa added. “And now live in beautiful place and are happy.” She patted her flat belly. “I give Harry a son next spring.”
Libby was speechless. They’d met Harry and Dwayne at a party in Moscow? She’d seen a story on television about such parties, where American men would travel to Russia or Asia to find wives.
“Am I holding a boy or a girl?” Libby asked, looking down at the infant in her arms.
“A girl,” Leysa said. “She is named Rose, after our husbands’ mother.”
“She’s beautiful,” Libby murmured, walking to the counter and stopping beside Michael. “Look at what I’ve got,” she whispered. “Isn’t she precious?”
Michael set down the catalogue he was leafing through and turned his attention to Rose.
He reached over and picked up the infant, cradling her against his chest, covering her head with one broad hand, and burying his nose in her hair.
Libby went weak in the knees at the sight of Michael handling the child with such confidence and genuine affection. And Leysa, instead of being horrified to see her daughter in the arms of the huge man, was pulling Libby toward the front door of the store.
“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you the space we have to rent, and you can decide if it will suit you.”
“But… but what about Rose?”
Leysa kept walking. “She’ll scream her head off if I take her away from Michael now,”
she said, turning to smile at Libby. “I think she is in love with him. He can’t come here without picking her up. I only have to watch that he doesn’t try to sneak her home.” She leaned over and whispered, “I think Michael is in love with her as well.”
Not only did Libby’s legs feel like noodles, but her heart skipped several beats. She looked over her shoulder as Leysa pulled her along and saw that Michael now had Rose nestled against his shoulder and was rubbing a lazy hand over her back as he studied the catalogue again.
He was a towering mountain of a man who could kill a deer in the morning and cuddle an infant a few hours later. He could walk into a room and take her breath away, say something to send her temper flying, and make love to her as if the world would end tomorrow. He thrilled her, inflamed her, and sent her hormones into overdrive with just a look.
And his warning the night he’d come to her room to scare her away finally hit Libby with the force of a locomotive.
Yes, she would be wise to be very afraid.
Chapter Eleven
Libby just didn’t want toget out of bed. She snuggled deeper into the warm quilt and covered her cold nose with the blanket. She had stayed up past midnight to paint Robbie’s plaque, then fallen into bed like a zombie.
Coffee wouldn’t help. Libby doubted even aspirin would do the trick. Two or three fresh scrambled eggs might work, along with a thick slab of toast from the loaf of bread she had bought at the bakery conveniently located right next-door to her new studio.
She’d run into Michael again coming out of the bakery. The man’s arms had been loaded down with bread and cakes and a bag that looked to have two dozen cookies in it. He’d been chewing on a doughnut at the time and had only nodded and held the door open for her with his foot.