Eye of the Tiger

“So were you.” Eleanor folded her arms across her breasts. “Go ahead, boss, warn me about the consequences. Lecture me on rich men who look upon less wealthy women as fair game for their unsatisfied desires. You sure ought to know what you’re talking about.”

He looked as if he might blow up any minute, a redheaded stick of dynamite looking for a match. Even his freckles seemed to expand.

“Eleanor…!”

She knew the tone, but it didn’t intimidate her anymore. “Now, don’t get all worked up,” she advised, smiling. “We don’t want your blood pressure shooting up, do we, you poor old thing?”

“I am not old,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I’m barely thirty-five!”

“Oh, but you’re thirteen years older than I am,” she reminded him. “Definitely a different generation,” she added on a sigh, studying him. “Too bad I was too smitten with you four years ago to notice. But I’m all better now. You’ll be relieved to know that I don’t have any inclination to chase after you these days. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”

He didn’t look confident, or enthusiastic or particularly happy. He stared at her for a long time. Then, “Wade is two years older than I am,” he pointed out in a strained tone of voice.

She shrugged. “Yes, but he has a young mind.” She grinned. “And not a bad body, to boot.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “A Romeo, you said? How fascinating. I can’t wait to see how good he is….”

He whirled on his heel and stormed out the door without another word. Eleanor had to smother a giggle. Well, so much for his overbearing arrogance, she thought with a trace of cold pride. At least she could handle herself now; she could protect herself. And she might need that ability, because he had a slightly possessive attitude toward her. She didn’t want that; she didn’t want the risk of running headlong into him again. Part of her remembered too well the vulnerability of loving him. She wouldn’t be that stupid again. And why should he be worried about Wade? It probably irritated him that she might wind up in bed with someone else.

Good, she thought as she went to her room to change. Let him worry. It would be small compensation for the anguish he’d caused her with his manipulations!

She got ready for dinner, dressing in a pair of lavender slacks, a striped crinkle-cloth blouse and sandals. She peeked in the living room on her way to the kitchen.

“Wade’s coming to supper,” she announced, grinning.

“Is he?” her father asked mildly, studying her. He grinned back. “So I finally get to meet him, do I?”

“He won’t take no for an answer.” She laughed. “I gave up.”

“Just as well, the flowers were taking over the house.” He frowned, looking so much like a mirror image of Eleanor except for his silver hair and wrinkles that she smiled. “Did you and Keegan have words?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Why do you ask?”

“He came out looking like a thunderhead, muttered something about a meeting and dashed out. It’s our chess night, you know.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she replied honestly. “I didn’t remember.”

“You don’t pay a lot of attention to him these days, do you? Used to be wild about him, too. I remember how you cried when he got engaged. You went rushing off to nurse’s training in Louisville that same week.” He started to fill his pipe, aware of her sudden color. “I don’t think it’s just to see me that he’s starting hanging around here so much, Eleanor.”

“Well, don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s mad about me,” she replied. “I know better.”

He met her gaze. “He’s been hanging around here longer than you realize,” he replied. “You haven’t noticed.”

“I don’t want to notice. Please don’t play Cupid, darling. Keegan doesn’t interest me that way. Not anymore. Now, Wade,” she murmured dryly, “is another matter.”

“Do you think he’ll keep coming when he sees where we live?” he asked bluntly.

“Of course,” she said with a grin. “He’s no snob.”

He shifted in his rocking chair and set it into motion as he lit his pipe. “I’ll wait and find out for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“If you think we need improvements, ask your friend the farm tycoon,” she told him. “Use your influence.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” he sputtered, glowering at her. “And you might remember that his daddy made his money the hard way. He wasn’t born into money, he earned it. The Taber farm is… Where are you going?”

“I’ve heard this sermon before.” She sighed. “I know all about the Tabers. More than I want to know. I have to get dinner.”

He studied her stiff back. “You could be a little more hospitable to my chess partner,” he told her.

“Oh, I’ll strain a muscle being hospitable, you just watch. I’ll even curtsy when he walks in the door.”

“Don’t get smart,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” she promised. “I’ll treat him with all the respect due his age. After all, I am a mere child by comparison.” She turned and went into the kitchen. “I’m making spaghetti tonight, if that suits you.”

“Suits me fine. Will it suit the snooty dinner guest?”

She glowered at him from the kitchen doorway. “Shame on you. Just because he has money doesn’t make him a snob.”

“Yes, I could say the same thing about Keegan, if you’d listen.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Why do you dislike him so?” he asked unexpectedly, his eyes narrowed.

What could she say to that? Telling him the truth was out of the question, and nothing short of it would convince him. She leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. “He has freckles,” she whispered. “I hate freckles.”

And while he was laughing at her cheek, she vanished into the kitchen.

Chapter Two (#ulink_cee0872f-ecbb-5b06-a478-b39639945c63)

Wade was right on time, and Eleanor met him at the door with a bright smile. She had expected to find him wearing slacks and a shirt, as Keegan frequently did when he visited them. But Wade was wearing a very trendy navy-blue blazer with white slacks and a white shirt and tie, and he looked taken aback by Eleanor’s neat slacks and blouse.

“Sorry, love, am I overdressed?” he asked apologetically, looking briefly uncomfortable, then even more so as his gaze wandered around the hall, taking in its far-from-recent paint job, worn linoleum and single light-bulb hanging bare from the ceiling.

“We’re a little primitive around here,” she said with a faint smile. “The house was given to us rent-free by the Tabers due to the length of my father’s employment here. We tend to forget how it looks, but there’s never been any reason to update it, you see….”

“Was I criticizing?” he said quickly, and smiled to soften the words. “My world is a bit different, but that doesn’t make it better, now does it?” He chuckled.

“No,” she said with a laugh. “You’re a nice man.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He sighed.

She stood back to invite him in, feeling underdressed and underprivileged, even though she knew he hadn’t meant to make her feel that way. “Won’t you come into the living room and meet my father?”

She led him there, swallowing her embarrassment at the shabbiness of their furniture. The living room needed painting, too—why hadn’t she noticed that before now? And the rug— Oh, Lord, it was in rags! She hadn’t paid the slightest attention to the condition of the house since she’d been back. Helping her father since his accident and holding down a full-time job of her own left her just enough time to keep the house clean and neat. And there hadn’t been any company to speak of, except other farm employees who were friends of her father… and Keegan, who never seemed to notice where he was, making himself right at home in castle or hovel alike.

Her father would be wearing that sweater with the hole in the sleeve, she reflected, groaning inwardly. He had better ones, but that was his favorite. Smiling, Barnett Whitman extended his hand to Wade, not seeming to notice that he looked positively ragged in his old baggy trousers, faded print shirt and slippers.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Granger,” he said easily. “Sorry I’m not getting up, but I’ve had some trouble with my hip and sitting down feels better.”