Eye of the Tiger - Diana Palmer Mills & Boon M&B

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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

      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.”

      “Yes, your daughter was telling me about your fall,” Wade replied. “I hope it’s better.”

      “I’ll be able to go back to work next month,” her father assured him. “The Tabers have been wonderful to me, to us.”

      “I know the Tabers,” Wade said. “Keegan’s a character, isn’t he?” he added conversationally. “Quite a guy.”

      Her father immediately brightened. Anyone who liked Keegan was instantly a friend, Eleanor thought with bitter irony.

      “Keegan often plays chess with me,” Barnett Whitman said proudly.

      Wade raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I can’t imagine him sitting still that long. He always seems to be on the run, doesn’t he?”

      “In a dead heat,” Barnett agreed with a smile. “But he’s a good chess player, for all that.”

      Quickly Eleanor took Wade’s arm and said, “Shall we go into the dining room?” to prevent her father from further extolling the virtues of the one man she wanted to forget. “I hope you like spaghetti, Wade. I was on seven-to-three today, and I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare.”

      “Spaghetti is fine,” Wade told her. “I should have brought a bottle of Chianti to go with it. Or a nice rosé. What do you have?”

      Eleanor stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Wine, darling,” he said.

      “Oh!” She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I’m sorry, we don’t drink.”

      “I’ll have to take you in hand and corrupt you, you innocent little thing. Shhh, we don’t want your father to think I’m a rake,” he added in a stage whisper.

      Her father, liking this obvious attention, grinned as he sat down. Eleanor smiled as Wade seated her, but she felt oddly uncomfortable, as if her social graces were nonexistent. Without meaning to, Wade made her feel like a country mouse.

      It wasn’t the most successful evening Eleanor had ever had. She felt uncomfortable, although her father did his best to liven things up. By the time dinner was over and Eleanor had served up her special homemade apple pie with ice cream, she was more than willing to show Wade to the door.

      He shook hands with her father and walked out onto the porch with Eleanor.

      “Not a wild success, was it?” he asked with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, darling, did I hurt your feelings?”

      “Yes,

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