Fire and Rain by Elizabeth Lowell

damn, so long as you weren't burned."
     He examined her face intently, then unclenched her fingers and examined them for damage. Gently he traced the backs of her hands and arms until he reached the barrier of rolled-up black sleeves. His sleeves, his shirt, her wide blue-green eyes watching him. He traced her smooth, fine-grained skin one more time and felt desire roll through him like thunder through a narrow canyon, a force that made even stone tremble. He dropped her hands and turned away abruptly.
     "Not a mark. You were lucky, schoolgirl. Next time you better think before you grab something too big for you. I might not be around to bail you out."
     The change in Luke from tender to abrupt was disorienting to Carla. Before she could stop herself, she said, "I'm not a schoolgirl."
     "Last time I checked, the University of Colorado was a school. What do you want me to do with that damned kettle?"
     There were several tempting options, but Carla limited herself to the most practical one.
     "Pour off the water in the sink."
     Luke handled the heavy, awkward kettle with an ease that made Carla flatly envious.
     "Now I know why cavewomen put up with cavemen," she muttered to herself, thinking Luke couldn't hear.
     But he could. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the compound of admiration and desire in Carla's eyes as she watched him, and didn't know whether to smile or swear at the renewed leap of his blood. As he poured gallons of steaming water into the sink, he couldn't decide whether having Carla around for the summer was the worst idea he had ever had – or the best.
     By the time Carla had the spaghetti loaded into a serving dish, the ranch hands were seated around the table in hushed expectancy. As she carried the fragrant, steaming mound of pasta into the dining room, she felt like a lion tamer carrying a single lamb chop into a cage full of big, hungry cats.
     "Start this round," she said. "I'll be back with the sauce in a minute."
     The pot with the sauce in it wasn't as awkward as the kettle of boiling water had been, but Luke had taken care of the job anyway. The sauce was now in a soup tureen. A ladle that was twenty inches long stuck out of the rich red sauce.
     "Thank you," Carla said, smiling briefly at Luke as she grabbed the tureen. "Go sit down and eat. I can handle the rest."
     Without a word Luke lifted the big tureen from Carla's hands and walked into the dining room. She found a big crockery bowl and filled it with green beans. She hurried out to the men.
     "Here you are. All I have to do is find a spoon." An assortment of mumbles greeted her. She didn't hear. She stood rooted to the floor, staring in horrified fascination as the spaghetti bowl made the rounds of the table. Each man heaped his plate with pasta, piling it high and wide, cramming aboard every bit possible and then some. By the time each man had been served, not so much as a single limp strand was left in the huge bowl.
     Cosy, who had been the last to be served, took the green beans from Carla and gave her the empty pasta bowl in return.
     "If you hurry back with more, you may be able to have a bite yourself before we dig in for seconds," Cosy said, grinning.
     The hands who had already buried their pasta in sauce and had begun eating paused long enough to chorus Cosy's remarks. A lot of compliments for her cooking were thrown in, as well.
     Carla smiled and tried to acknowledge the praise, but her heart wasn't in it. She was thinking desperately of the gallons and gallons of boiling water that had just gone down the kitchen drain. It would be impossible to cook more spaghetti in time to get it on the table for a second serving. And even if it were possible, at the rate the sauce was disappearing, there wouldn't be anything to put on the pasta but salt, pepper and a splash of ketchup.
      Maybe Cosy's just teasing me. Surely no man could eat one of those huge servings and come back for more.

     Carla looked toward Ten,