Free Michael's father by Dallas Schulze Page A

before he kissed her.
    She hadn't expected him to pounce—not exactly anyway. And she didn't want to bring their relationship—if and when they had one—out into the open any more than he did. She wasn't sure how Colleen would feel about Megan sleeping with her older brother, but Megan knew it would embarrass her if Colleen were to find out about it. She supposed there were women sophisticated enough to carry off something like that, but she wasn't one of them.
    So at first, she'd been grateful for Kel's discretion. But as the days ticked by and he made no effort to seek out even a brief moment of privacy with her, she began to question her memory. She was grateful that he wasn't trying to rush her, but a stolen kiss or two wouldn't be out of line.
    But Kel didn't seem to have any interest in kisses-stolen or otherwise. He treated her just as he had before, friendly but a little distant. The perfect employer-to-employee attitude, she thought with some irritation. She might have believed she'd imagined the entire exchange between them if it hadn't been for the

    one or two occasions she caught him looking at her and saw that the indifference was gone, replaced by a blazing green heat that burned right through her.
    He still wanted her but, for reasons of his own, he was keeping his distance. Megan would have given a great deal to know what those reasons were but she could hardly come right out and ask the man why he hadn't tried to seduce her. Not that he was likely to have to try too hard, she admitted, remembering the way he*d melted her defenses with a touch.
    Still, if he expected her to make the first move, Kel Bryan had another think coming.
    So Megan's apparent indifference mirrored Kel's own.
    He resented the hell out of her casual attitude.
    She resented the hell out of his.
    And the sexual tension smoldered—imacknowl-edged—between them.
    It was left to Colleen to unwittingly end the stalemate created by stubborn pride. Sunday was as close to a day of rest as was possible on a working ranch. There were always chores to be done but on Sunday they were limited to the most basic—such as animals to be cared for—or the least taxing—such as tack to be cleaned or repaired.
    Megan suspected that the tradition had its origins less in religion than in necessity since quite a few of the hands made it a point to drive into the nearest town on Saturday night and put as much effort into having a good time as they put into their work the rest of the week. The result was a bunch of grown men walking

    Michael's Father S3
    very carefully Sunday morning, as if not entirely sure their heads were going to stay in place.
    Technically, Megan had Sunday off, as well as one other day a week of her own choosing. Since the nearest town consisted of three bars, two gas stations and a general store that housed an eclectic mix of merchandise, it hardly seemed worth the effort to go there. The two Sundays she'd spent on the Lazy B, M^an had used the time to clean up odds and ends of jobs she hadn't quite managed to finish and to do fancier baking than she took time for during the week.
    One thing about cooking for men who spent ten hours a day doing hard, physical labor was that they seemed to burn an amazing number of calories. And nobody seemed to worry much about things hke cholesterol, which meant she could indulge her love of baking and not feel so much as a twinge of guilt.
    But on this Sunday, Colleen announced that Megan was not to lift a finger. "You've done nothing but work since you came here," she said.
    "That's what I was hired to do," Megan pointed out.
    "You weren't hired to be slave labor. You haven't taken a single day off."
    "I don't feel overworked."
    "Everyone needs time off," Colleen insisted. "Shouldn't Megan take today off?" She looked across the room at her brother, who'd just entered. Megan immediately became terribly interested in the crossword puzzle she'd been toying with.
    "I tiiought today was her day