Winning The Rancher's Heart

“You know what? You stay here. I’ll go inside. I have a leash we can use.” A smile stretched across her already wide mouth.

“Here. You take him,” she added.

But the moment she moved, the dog bolted. “Hey,” she cried, making a lunge for him. She landed on air, her breath rushing out of her with an oomph.

She immediately rolled onto her back, Jax torn between revulsion and dismay because she’d managed to cover the front of her pretty off-white sweater with streaks of dirt.

“That little jerk,” she said, using her hands to sit up. The dog ran away like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. “Now we’ll never catch him.”

“Told you we should have called animal control.”

“I can’t believe he did that.”

He moved forward, holding a hand out to help her up. She took it willingly, and the way she smiled at him, her eyes bright and twinkling, her whole face lit up, it socked him in the solar plexus. Man. She could sell rain to Noah with that grin.

“Perhaps you’ll listen to me next time.”

He hadn’t meant the words to come out sounding so stern, but he saw her smile falter.

“Perhaps I will.”

She flicked her chin up and Jax couldn’t decide what her best feature was, her stunning eyes or the power of her grin.

She pulled her hand out of his grip and brushed herself off. “Looks like I’m going to have to change.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Maybe I can get my kids to catch him when he comes back.”

“Maybe.”

What the hell was wrong with him that he watched her hands on her breasts, that a part of his mind went on its own little safari wondering if they were as firm as they...

“Meet back in my office when you’ve changed.”

He turned away before she could spot the bright shade of red that ran up the side of his neck, at least judging by the heat that scorched his skin. And the way he clenched his hands. Or the way his whole body had tensed.

Mother of two, remember. Widow. Still wears the wedding ring.

Did he need a better reason to steer clear?

* * *

“WHAT A MESS.”

Naomi stared at her reflection in the mirror and spotted a leaf in her hair. Could she have made a bigger fool of herself?

“Are you sure he ran toward the road?” T.J. asked.

He was excited beyond belief at the prospect of a hunting expedition. He’d even changed into a camouflage outfit.

“I’m sure. But you’re to stay within sight of the house, you hear me?” He ran out of her bedroom. “And take Sam with you.”

“Really, Mom?” her daughter drawled.

“Really, Sam,” she called back. She didn’t know what had happened to her sweet daughter, but she’d disappeared into a cloud of puberty.

She dashed into the bathroom as big as a hotel room to fix her hair, the sound of the front door closing behind her kids echoing through the house. She couldn’t believe the size of her new digs. It was nearly a hike from the front door to the back to her massive bedroom and the walk-in closet that housed her pathetic wardrobe.

It took her a quick second to brush her hair. She stepped back to examine her long-sleeved white shirt—her standard uniform for life, that and jeans. It might be June in California, but the lack of humidity made it feel like winter in Georgia.

Off you go for round two.

Her own entrance to his home was at the very back of her apartment, beyond a door that might look like a linen closet but wasn’t. There was a hallway with a washer and dryer to her right, and beyond that another door that led to his house. The security buttons beeped as she punched numbers. A long beep sounded when she’d finished, followed by a snick as the door unlocked. She half expected him to be on the other side. Maybe pop out from around the hallway that led to his kitchen.

And what a kitchen it was—like something that belonged to a reality cooking show, one where celebrity chefs and top models cooked. Large rectangular terra-cotta bricks made up the floor. The entrance at the end of her hallway was an arch, one made entirely of bricks. As were the walls. In the far wall sat a giant stainless steel hood with a double stove beneath.

She reached out a hand and glided a finger across the island in the middle. The off-white marble was cold to the touch. Not even the fixture that hung above it—three lights made into one—could warm its surface. The whole house felt that way, she thought, entering the main foyer. It was stunning. A true work of art, but unlived in, which was strange because she knew Jax’s sister had lived in the apartment she’d taken over, and she must have cooked in the kitchen a time or two. She paused for a moment at the entrance to the living room, trying to put her finger on what it was.

No plants. Not even a fake one.

To her right sat a sweeping staircase, and just beyond that, a cobblestoned fireplace. But if she owned this gorgeous place she’d have stuffed a massive ficus in the corner. Maybe even some pointed palms at the corners of the couch in the sunken living room. Something that would catch the light from the double row of windows and set off the granite floor. Whatever. Not her place, and it never would be. What was her problem was the granite floor. She could see her reflection in it and she didn’t want to think about how much work it would be to maintain it. No wonder he needed a housekeeper.

She turned toward the stairs, but she paused as she stared out the cathedral windows along the front. T.J. ran through the grove of trees across the road, clearly on the trail of something. Sam followed reluctantly behind, her brown hair long and down her back, head bowed.

She had her phone.

Dear Lord in heaven. She might have to have the thing surgically removed. For a moment she contemplated telling her to put the thing away and keep an eye on her brother, but the property was fully fenced. How much trouble could they get into searching for a dog? Besides, she needed to get to work.

Work.

She had a list of chores he wanted done daily. And now he wanted help planning an event. She placed her hand on the smooth burl railing. And he wanted her to act as a maid. And a hostess. Lord, it sounded like she’d be busy in the coming weeks. But busy was good. Busy kept her mind off thinking of Trev and how much she missed him still.

“Knock, knock,” she said, rounding the corner of his office. There was a double row of windows downstairs and the same in his office, although she could see the A-line of the roof from where she stood because the second-floor windows were snug up against it. Jax sat behind a massive desk made out of a slab of burl that matched the stairwell railing.

“Take a seat.” He waved toward the same chair she’d sat in yesterday.

“Okay, I meant to ask you, but what is it made out of?”

He motioned with his hand as if the answer should be clear. “It’s a tree root.”

She felt her brows lift. “Of course. What else would it be?”

He seemed puzzled by her lame attempt at humor. It made her wonder yet again what she’d gotten herself into.

“Are your kids looking for the dog?”

“Out there right now.” She took a seat, the wooden surface uneven and uncomfortable.

He leaned back in his chair and he seemed such a contradiction. He lived on a ranch, yet he looked more like the CEO of a big corporation with his short-cropped hair, the ends dipped in gray. He wore a white button-down shirt, and from what she could tell, jeans and boots. No cowboy hat today. Probably no big buckle. No wide smile of greeting, either. His sister was so sweet and open, yet his face was as closed as the garage door on the other side of his home, his entire demeanor unapproachable. Even his office was a contradiction. It was meant for show. All wide-open space, expensive furniture and sparse furnishings, and yet he had a Lego cowboy sitting in between two massive computer screens, one of them with a COWBOY TOUGH sticker stuck to the back.

She caught him staring at her. Something in his eyes made her smile fade.

“So I thought it would be a good idea to give you a to-do list this morning.” He glanced at the screen on his right.

She shifted in her seat. A to-do list? In addition to her housekeeping list? The man knew how to keep a woman busy.

“Great.”

He slid a sheet of paper in her direction. “You’ll see the first item on the list is to call animal control.”

She almost shoved the thing back at him. “No.” And she even surprised herself with the sharpness of her tone.

“Excuse me?”

It was the third time that day she’d said no to him, but she didn’t care. “I told you we should catch him.”

“He’s a stray.”

“He’s lost and alone and scared. I see it in his eyes. I refuse to send him to a place where he’ll feel even more alone and afraid.”

He shook his head. “You presume he’s lost. It’s more likely that he was dumped.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought. Who would do such a thing? “I still don’t want him to go to a shelter. They’ll kill him.”

“Not necessarily. Someone might adopt him.”

“A dog like that? One that doesn’t want human company? No.”

She could tell he wasn’t pleased by her argument. Great. Five minutes into her meeting with the man and already she’d managed to antagonize him.

“Just let the kids try to catch him. I’m sure once Tramp realizes we want to help him, he’ll come around.”

“Tramp?”

She nodded. “From the movie. Doesn’t he look just like him?”

“I don’t know. Never seen it.”

She sat back in her seat, winced when her spine made contact with the back. “Never?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

The poor, sad little man. “Well, trust me. He looks just like him.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

She glanced down at the list he handed her again. “Research caterers?” She tipped her head up. “I don’t have a computer.”

Another blank stare. “Not even a tablet?”

She shook her head. “I had one, a laptop I mean, but my daughter dropped it on the way here. It fell out of the back seat of my truck and shattered the screen. I have a smart phone, but that’s it.”

His look was akin to someone being told ten plus ten was two. For some reason, it made her want to smile. Nerves, she told herself. Smiles and silly giggles had always been her go-to reaction when she was tense.

“Will that be a problem?” she asked.

He slowly shook his head. “I’ll have a laptop delivered to you by the end of the day.”

Of course he would. She glanced down at the list again. “I guess that means I can’t do items three, four and five, either. I’d need access to email for that.”

“You don’t have email?”

“Of course I do, I just think it’d be easier to research and solicit bids from caterers using a laptop instead of a phone, don’t you?”

He pressed his lips together. “Okay then. Maybe now would be a good time to go over the housekeeping list I gave you yesterday.”

“Sure.”

His brows drew together. “Is there something wrong with your chair?”

She realized then that she’d been shifting around in it a lot. “This thing is like some kind of medieval torture device. Clearly, whoever you asked to decorate this place didn’t actually expect anyone to live here.”

He kept doing that—kept looking at her like she had Christmas lights hanging from her nose. Just then the phone on his desk rang. He glanced at the number and answered. He listened intently for a moment and then replied in perfect French, something she didn’t understand, and he spoke it so fluently and so well that it was her turn to have her mouth drop open.

Who was this man?

She’d been expecting a sun-bronzed, boot-wearing cowboy. Maybe someone quite a bit older than her. But someone who was kind and approachable, like his sister. Instead she sat across from Clint Eastwood in his younger years. Maybe when he’d played the role of Dirty Harry.

He hung up and said, “All right, let’s go over the list I gave you yesterday.”

“I don’t have it with me.”

“That’s okay.” He clearly had a copy because he read from it. “Floors. As noted, use your best judgment when those need to be done. I’m not around a lot of the time, so you might not need to do them very frequently.” He met her gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away. “Windows, as needed. You’ll find all the cleaning supplies in a pantry in the kitchen. I’ve tried to think of everything you’ll need. Let me know if you’ll need anything else.”

She nodded, not that he was looking at her.

“Dusting, empty the trash, cleaning the light fixtures—that’s all self-explanatory, and like the floors, I’ll leave that up to you.”

He set the paper down. “One thing I wanted to mention was laundry. It’s not on the list, but I was going to ask if you’d mind doing mine in addition to your own.”

“No. I don’t mind at all.” Could he see how flushed her face had turned at the thought of folding his underwear? She hoped not.

“I don’t expect you to iron. And if something needs to be dry-cleaned, I’ll take care of that myself.” He picked up the list again. “Let me know if you think anything needs to be professionally cleaned. Carpets. Drapery. And keep your eye on fixtures and whatnot. This is a new home, but things can still break.”

“Got it.”

He set the list down again. “Did my sister tell you what I do for a living?”

She sat up straighter. “Yes.”

“Good. You should know I have accounts all over the world, which means I travel a lot.”

“She mentioned that, too.”

“Although I’ve slowed down lately. I’ve made a commitment to my sister and nephew. I try to spend as much time as I can with them, although sometimes it’s just not possible—my work takes me away from home. That’s where you come in. I’ll need you to keep an eye on the place. I’ve hired someone to manage the ranch and all its livestock affairs, but he’s coming all the way from Texas and he won’t be here for a couple of weeks. Until then, the Reynoldses are a big help.”

“That’s who we should call about Tramp. Claire Reynolds has her dog rescue.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that before. “She’ll know what to do.”

He nodded. “Good idea. You can add that to your to-do list.”

The phone on his desk rang again. She expected him to pick it up. Maybe start speaking in Russian or something. Nothing would surprise her with this man. Instead he ignored the call.

“Back to the security of the ranch.” He leaned toward her. “No houseguests.”

She lifted her brows. “None?”

“Not unless they’re authorized by me.”

“Not even the tooth fairy?” She couldn’t resist. He just seemed so stern.

He’d gone back to staring at her again. “Tooth fairies are the exception.”

“What about Santa?”

“Approved.”

“And the Easter Bunny?”

“Roger that.”

“My kids will be relieved.”

Lord love a duck, was there an actual living, breathing smile on his face? She’d made him smile. She had no idea why that filled her with such a sense of accomplishment, but it did.

But then the smile faded. He stared at her. She stared back, and she realized she liked him. She had no idea why. He hadn’t exactly been all warm and fuzzy. She’d spent most of their time together arguing with him and he didn’t seem to mind. Actually, he seemed to enjoy their tooth fairy conversation.

“Anyone else?” he asked, lifting a brow.

“I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” He glanced at his open laptop again. “Once you receive your laptop you’ll receive a pass code for my wireless network. Under no circumstances is it to be shared.”

“Not even with my kids?”

“They can have it, too. Just not anyone outside the ranch.”

“Got it.”

“You should also be aware that there are security cameras. They’re discreet, but they cover a wide variety of angles, so be mindful.”

“Good to know in case one of my kids gets lost.”

“Also, from time to time I’ll have guests. When that happens I’ll expect you to remain out of sight.”

Guests, hmm? Of the female variety, she supposed. That, too, made her blush because she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she stumbled upon a naked guest.

“And I don’t think I need to remind you to keep...” He looked up at her. “What are their names?”

“Samantha and T.J. We call her Sam for short.”

“Please keep Sam and T.J. out of my house. Unless there’s an emergency.”

“They were already told, but I’ll remind them.”

“And I should probably meet them. Bring them by tomorrow.”

Without thinking, she saluted. His brows lifted. She smiled. He stared at her again, a long, drawn-out stare that made her uncomfortable.

“So that’s it for yesterday’s list. Do what you can with today’s to-do list. It should be self-explanatory. You can add calling Claire and asking her if she’ll help you with that dog.” He stood. “Let me know what she says.”

“What about cooking for you?” She tried not to fidget as she stood in front of him. “I have to confess, I’m dying to use that oven.”

He appeared to consider her words. “You won’t have to cook for me much. I like to graze more than eat big meals.”

“Not ever?” She couldn’t contain her disappointment.

“And when I do cook, I actually enjoy cooking myself.”

Once again, her mouth went slack. “Really?”

And there it was again: the soft chuff. Definitely laughter.

“Yes, really.”

“So I guess it’s back to my hidey-hole then.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

She nodded, resisted the urge to smile one last time, then turned and walked away, but as she traveled across the cavernous width of his office, her tennis shoes making nary a sound on the hardwood floors, she had the strangest sensation. He watched her. She was so sure of it that she paused at the doorway, glanced back.

Their gazes connected.

She froze. She wasn’t sure why. It was the look on his face. It wasn’t one that made her think he was attracted to her in any way shape or form. To be honest, she’d been on the receiving end of those looks more than once since Trev had died. No, it was more like she was a weed he’d spotted in the fancy hedges outside.

Her lips lifted in an automatic smile. He didn’t smile back. She turned her smile up to its full wattage. Still no response. Good heavens. The man had the personality of a wooden stick.

“See you later.”

And then he did something she didn’t expect. He saluted to her. It made her laugh. She didn’t know why, but it did, and she didn’t mind letting him hear it as she walked toward the stairs.

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