Irish Rose (7 page)

Burke was right about one thing, she mused. They would play out the hand sooner or later. The problem was, Erin was afraid that even if she won, she'd lose.

Chapter 5

Within a week, Erin had developed a routine that pleased her. In the mornings she rose early enough to help Dee ready the children for school, then drove a borrowed car to the Three Aces to report to work by nine.

The mess of Burke's bookkeeping had been an enormous understatement. So had her estimate of his wealth. As she tallied figures and pored over ledgers, she tried to think of it in simple, practical terms. Numbers, after all, were just numbers.

She was rarely interrupted, and took her lunch from the silent Rosa at her desk. By the end of the first week, she'd made enough headway to feel pleased with herself. Only once or twice had she been made to feel foolish. She'd had to ask Burke for the instruction book on the adding machine. Then she'd asked him to supply her with a pencil sharpener. He'd simply picked up a cylinder with a hole in it and handed it to her.

"And what good is this?" she'd demanded. "It doesn't even have a crank."

He'd picked up a pencil and shoved it in the hole; then, damn him, had laughed when she'd jumped at the grinding. "Batteries," he'd said, "not magic."

She'd gotten over that small humiliation by burying her face in the account books. Maybe she wasn't used to gadgets, but by the saints, she'd balanced his books. Now she sat at the little electric typewriter and wrote up her weekly report. After tidying her desk, Erin picked up her report and went to find Burke.

His house was still almost completely uncharted territory to her. In the atrium, Erin hesitated. She could have called for Rosa on the intercom, but talking into the blasted thing always made her feel foolish. Instead, Erin set off in what she hoped was the general direction of the kitchen.

The place went on forever, she thought, and found it increasingly difficult not to open doors and peek inside as she went. Hearing a hum, she turned in that direction. Dishwasher, she thought, or a washing machine. With a shrug, she decided she'd find Rosa at the end of it.

The woman was a mystery, Erin thought as she walked. Rosa rarely spoke and always seemed to know precisely where to find Burke. Though the housekeeper referred to Burke as Mr. Logan, Erin sensed something less formal between them. She'd wondered, though it hadn't brought her any pleasure, if they were or had been lovers. Pushing the thought aside, she moved to the south end of the house.

But it wasn't the kitchen she found, or the laundry room. As she pushed open one of a pair of double doors, Erin entered the tropics. The pool was an inviting blue, sparkling under the sun that poured through the glass roof and walls. There were trees here the likes of which she'd never seen, planted in huge pottery urns. And flowers. She stepped in farther, overwhelmed by the heady scent when she could still see the snow through the glass. There were rich red petals, brilliant orange and yellow, exotic blues. If she closed her eyes, she imagined, she'd hear the chatter of parrots. Paradise, she thought, smiling as she walked farther.

With his eyes half-closed and his body just beginning to relax, Burke watched her. She didn't look sultry like the room, but fresh, untouched. The sun was all over her hair, drawing out the fire, licking at the layers of light. She'd pulled it back in a band as he'd seen her wear it in Ireland. And he could remember very well, too well, what it felt like to run his fingers through its mass.

He saw her reach for a flower as if her fingers itched to pick it, then draw back her hand and bury her face in the blooms instead. Her laugh was quiet, delighted, and he knew she thought herself alone.

So the Irish rose had a weakness for flowers, he thought, then watched her shake her head and look wonderingly, longingly around. And for money. At the latter, he shrugged his shoulders. It was difficult for someone in his position to blame her.

He could blame her, however, for the fact that his body was no longer even close to relaxing.

"Want a swim, Irish?"

At the sound of his voice, she whirled around. She'd forgotten about the hum. She saw its source now, and Burke in the middle of it. Another pool—no, not a pool, she corrected. She wasn't a complete dunderhead. She'd seen pictures of spas with their jets and bubbles and steamy water. And she couldn't help, for just a moment, wondering what it felt like to lower one's body into it.

"Want to join me?"

Because he grinned when he said it, Erin merely shrugged. "Thank you, but I'll be leaving for home in a few minutes. I've finished for the day and brought you your first report."

He nodded, but merely gestured to a white wicker chair beside the spa. "Have a seat."

Biting off a sigh, Erin did as he asked. "You may be a man of leisure yourself, but I've things to do."

Burke stretched his arms along the edge of the spa.

He didn't mention that he'd been up and at the stables since dawn, or that he'd strained every muscle in his body overseeing the mating between a stud and a particularly high-strung mare. "You've still got a few minutes on the clock, Irish. So how are my finances?"

"You're a rich man, Mr. Logan, though how that might be with the mess your books were in amazes me. I've done a bit of studying and come up with a new system." The truth was she'd spent two nights burning the midnight oil with books on accounting. "If you like, I'll wait until you've finished and go over it with you."

"It'll keep."

"Suit yourself. By the end of next week I should have everything running smoothly enough."

"That's good to know. Why don't you tell me how?"

He stretched his shoulders. Erin watched the muscles ripple along the damp skin, then deliberately shifted her gaze above his head. This was no place for her to be, she told herself. Especially when her mind was wandering away from accounting. "It's all in this report, if you'd care to pull yourself out of the tub there and have a look at it."

"Have it your way." Burke pushed the button that shut off the jets, then stood. Erin's limbs went weak as she saw he wore no more than he'd been born with. She was grateful color didn't rise to her cheeks, though she couldn't prevent some from leaving.

Burke took a towel and swung it easily over his hips as he stepped from the spa.

"You've no shame, Burke Logan."

"None at all."

"Well, if you'd meant to shock me, I'll have to disappoint you. I've four brothers, if you'll remember, and…" She glanced over again, prepared to look at him without interest. It was then she noticed the darkening bruise just under his left ribs. "You've hurt yourself." She was up immediately and laying gentle fingers on it. "Oh, it's a nasty one." Without thinking, she took her fingers up over his ribs, carefully checking. "You didn't break anything."

"Not so far," he murmured. He was standing very still, the amusement he'd felt completely wiped out. Her fingers felt so cool, so tender on his skin. She touched him as if she cared. That was something he'd learned to live a long time without.

"It'll look worse yet tomorrow," she said with a cluck of her tongue. "You should put some liniment on it." Then she realized her fingers were spread over his chest, and his chest was hard and smooth and wet. Erin snatched her hand away and stuck it behind her back. "How'd you come by it?"

"The new colt I picked up in Ireland."

She closed her hand into a fist. It was damp from his skin. "You'll have to give him more room next time." The shudder inside her came as no surprise and was quickly controlled.

"I intend to. I have the highest respect for the Irish temper."

"And so you should. If you'd look over the report now, I could answer any questions you might have before I leave."

Burke picked up the neatly typed sheets. Erin found it necessary to clear her throat as she turned to look out through the glass, now lightly fogged from the steam of the spa. But she didn't see the snow. She could still see him—the long arms roped with muscle, the hard chest glistening with water, the narrow hips leading to taut thighs.

A fine specimen, some would have said, herself included. And she could have murdered him for making her want.

"It seems clear enough." She jolted a bit, then cursed herself. "You know your business, Erin, but then I wouldn't have hired you if I hadn't believed that." No, he wouldn't have, but he'd have found some other way to bring her back with him. "Got anything in mind for your first paycheck?"

"A thing or two." She relaxed enough to smile at him, schooling her gaze to go no lower than his neck. Half the money would be on its way to Ireland in the morning. And the rest… She couldn't begin to think of it. "If you're satisfied, I'll be going home now."

"I'm a long way from satisfied," Burke said under his breath. "Listen, did you ever think the bookkeeping would be more interesting if you knew more about the stables, the racing?"

"No." Then she moved her shoulders as the thought he'd planted took root. "I suppose it might, though."

"I've got a horse running tomorrow. Why don't you come along, see where the money comes from and where it goes?"

"Go to the races?" She caught her lip between her teeth as she thought of it. "Could I bet?"

"There's a woman after my heart. Be ready at eight. I'll take you around the stables and paddock first."

"All right. Good day to you." She started out, then glanced over her shoulder. "I'd put some witch hazel on that bruise."

Erin paced the living room. It was her first day off, and she was going to spend it at the races. There would be mobs of people she'd never met; she'd hear dozens of voices for the first time. She ran a hand down her hair and hoped she looked all right. Not for Burke, she thought quickly. For herself, that was all. She wanted to look nice, to feel she looked nice when she stood in the midst of all those people.

The minute she heard Burke's car, she was racing out of the house. She hesitated on the steps, staring down at the fire-red sports car with its long, sleek hood. She made a mental note of the make so she could write home and tell Brian.

"You're prompt," Burke commented as she climbed in beside him.

"I'm excited." It didn't seem foolish to admit it now. "I've never been to the races before. Cullen has, and he told me the horses are beautiful and the people fascinating. Faith, look at all these dials." She studied the dash. "You'd have to be an engineer to drive it."

"Want to try?"

When she glanced at him and saw he was serious, she was sorely tempted. But she remembered all the cars that had been on the highway when they'd driven from the airport. "I'll just watch for now. When does the racing start?"

"We've got plenty of time. How's Dee?"

"She's fine. The doctor gave her a clean checkup but told her she had to stay off her feet a bit. She grumbles because she can't spend as much time down at the stables, but we're keeping her busy. The snow's melting."

"A few more days like we've been having and it'll be gone."

"I hope not. I like to look at it." She settled back, deciding that riding in the sports car was like riding on the wind. "Are you going to be warm enough?" she asked, looking at his light jacket and jeans. "There's still a bite in the air."

"Don't worry. So what do you like best about America so far, besides the snow?"

"The way you talk," she said instantly.

"Talk?"

"You know, the accent. It's charming."

"Charming." He glanced over at her, then laughed until the bruise began to throb. Still chuckling, he rubbed a hand over it absently.

"Is that troubling you?"

"What, this? No."

"Did you use witch hazel?"

He knew better than to laugh again. "I couldn't put my hands on any."

"I'd imagine you'd have a case or two of horse liniment down in the stables. Oh, look at the little planes." When he turned into the airport, she looked over at him. "What are we doing here?"

"Taking a ride on one of the little planes."

Her stomach did a quick flip-flop. "But I thought we were going to the races."

"We are. My horse is racing at Hialeah. That's in Florida."

"What's Florida?"

Burke paused in the act of swinging his door closed. On the other side of the car, Erin stared at him. "South," he told her, and held out a hand.

Too excited to think, too terrified to object, Erin found herself bundled onto a plane. The cabin was so small that even she had to stoop a bit, but when she sat the chair was soft and roomy. Burke sat across from her and indicated the seat belt. Once hers was secured, he flipped the switch on an intercom. "We're set here, Tom."

"Okay, Mr. Logan. Looks like smooth sailing. Skies are clear except for a little patch in the Carolinas. We ought to be able to avoid most of them."

When she heard and felt the engines start, Erin gripped the arms of the chair. "Are you sure this thing's safe?"

"Life's a gamble, Irish."

She nearly babbled before she caught the amusement in his eyes. Deliberately she made her hands relax. "So it is." As the plane started to roll, she looked out the window. Within minutes the ground was tilting away under them. "It's quite a sight, isn't it?" She smiled, leaning a little closer to the window: "When all of you landed in Cork, I looked at the plane and wondered what it would be like to sit inside. Now I know."

"How is it?"

She gave him a sideways smile. "Well, there's no champagne."

"There can be."

"At half past eight in the morning?" With a laugh, she sat back again. "I think not. I should have thanked you for asking me to go today. The Grants have been nothing but kind to me, so I'm really grateful to give them a day to themselves."

"Is that the only reason you should have thanked me?" He stood and went into a little alcove.

"No. I appreciate the chance to go."

"You want cream in this coffee?"

"Aye." He could have said you're welcome, she thought, then let it pass. Nothing was going to spoil her mood. When he sat, she took the cup but was too wound up to drink. "Will you give me an answer if I ask a question that's none of my business?"

Burke drew out a cigar, then lit it. "I'll give you an answer, but not necessarily the truth." He kicked out his legs, then rested his ankles on the seat beside her.