BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately, she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website at www.barbaradunlop.com.

The Ryders:

Jared, Royce

and Stephanie

Seduction and

the CEO

In Bed with

the Wrangler

His Convenient

Virgin Bride

Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Seduction and the CEO

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

In Bed With The Wrangler

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

His Convenient Virgin Bride

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

Seduction and the CEO

Barbara Dunlop

For my amazing husband—cowboy, pilot and businessman

One

Journalist Brandon Langard’s blunder was the talk of the bullpen at Windy City Bizz. The odds-on favorite for a promotion to feature writer, he’d struck out in his attempt to get an interview with Jared Ryder.

Melissa Warner and the rest of the sixth-floor magazine staff watched the fallout with morbid fascination. The managing editor’s door was closed tight, but through the interior window, it was obvious Seth Strickland was shouting. His eyes snapped fire, and his face had turned a mottled purple. Brandon’s head was bent and still, his shoulders hunched.

“They’ve already designed the cover,” photographer Susan Alaric stage-whispered over the low barrier between her and Melissa’s desks.

“That’s because Brandon swore it was a done deal,” said Melissa, remembering his swagger last week when he’d announced the plum assignment.

“Nothing wrong with that man’s confidence,” Susan returned with an eye roll. Brandon’s habit of bragging, flirting and ogling the female staff had long since alienated them.

“I was sure he’d pull it off,” Melissa had to admit. Brandon might be obnoxious, but he was also driven and hardworking. And like all the journalists at the Bizz, he knew an in-depth article on Chicago’s most elusive entrepreneur and bachelor would clinch the promotion to feature writer.

That Jared Ryder had made a fortune in the Chicago real estate market fit Windy City Bizz’s mandate for business news. That he was the heartthrob of half the city’s female population suited the magazine’s new focus on circulation numbers.

Seth became even more animated, gesticulating with both arms as he rounded his cluttered desk to confront Brandon face-to-face. The occasional word filtered through the closed door. “ … incompetent … unreliable … reckless …”

“Ouch.” Susan cringed.

Melissa experienced a fleeting twinge of pity for Brandon. But then she remembered how he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with the Women in Business organization last month and presented the story idea as his own. She still owed him for that one. Or rather, he still owed her.

She paused on that thought.

It was true. He did owe her one. And maybe it was time to collect.

It would serve him right if she swooped in on this particular story. And why not? Seth clearly needed the Jared Ryder interview. And Melissa would kill for a chance at that promotion.

Through the window, Seth stopped talking. His breathing went deep, his nostrils flared, as he set his jaw in a grim line. Brandon bolted for the office door, and Melissa saw her chance. She quickly came to her feet.

Susan glanced up quizzically, assessing the determined expression on Melissa’s face. She obviously came to the right conclusion.

“Do it,” she begged with a grin. “Oh, please do it.”

Melissa’s heart upped its rhythm. She swallowed hard, trying not to think about the career-limiting consequences of failure. If she promised the interview and didn’t deliver, she’d be in more trouble than Brandon.

Still, as Brandon yanked Seth’s door open, she tamped down her fear and made her move.

Her colleagues’ gazes hit her from all sides as she made a beeline for the editor’s office. Some probably guessed her plan. Others would be simply shocked to see her approaching Seth before he had a chance to calm down. His tirades were legendary. They normally sent the staff scurrying for cover.

Brandon peeled off to the right, studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Melissa rapped on the still-open door. “Seth?”

“What?” he barked, without looking up, rustling through a pile of papers on his cluttered desk.

She took a couple of steps into the office, clicking the door shut behind her.

His round face was flushed all the way to his receding hairline. There was a sheen of sweat above his bushy brows. His white shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up. And his tie was loose and dangling in two sections over his protruding belly.

“I can get you the interview,” she stated outright, standing tall, her three-inch pumps giving her a slight height advantage.

“What interview?”

“The Jared Ryder interview.”

“No. You can’t.”

“I can,” she insisted, voice firm with the confidence she’d learned facing down five older brothers. “I will. What’s the deadline?”

“Ryder left Chicago this morning.”

“No problem. Where’d he go?”

Seth glared at her without answering.

“I can do it, Seth.”

“He turned Langard down flat.”

“I’m not Langard.”

“You’re not,” Seth agreed in a tone that told her she’d never be as good as Brandon Langard. Then he picked up his phone and punched in a number.

“Give me a chance,” Melissa insisted, closing the space between the door and his desk. “What can it hurt?”

“We’re out of time.”

“A week,” said Melissa. “Give me a week.”

“Is Everett available?” Seth asked into the phone.

Everett was publisher of the Bizz, the head honcho, the guy who approved the lead headlines and the cover copy.

“Can we at least talk about it?” she pressed.

“Nothing to talk about. Ryder ran off to Montana.”

That information took Melissa by surprise. “What’s Jared Ryder doing in Montana?” Surely he wasn’t building a skyscraper in Butte.

“He’s holed up at his ranch.”

Melissa hadn’t known he had a ranch. Sure, there were rumors he was once a cowboy. But there were also rumors he was once a spy.

Seth gauged her confused look and raised his bushy brows. “You didn’t know he had a ranch.”

She couldn’t argue that one.

“It’s the foundation of the entire Ryder conglomerate. How’re you going to save my ass when you didn’t even know he had a ranch?”

“Because I will,” said Melissa with determination. Just because she didn’t happen to know Jared was a cowboy didn’t mean she couldn’t get an interview. “I’ll fly to Montana.”

“He hates the press. He really hates the Bizz. He’ll probably run you off his land with—” Seth’s attention went to the telephone. “Everett?”

“I can do it,” Melissa said, feeling her big chance slip away.

“I have a situation,” Seth said to Everett.

“I’ll get on the ranch,” she pressed in an undertone, her mind scrambling. “I’ll go undercover. I will get you the story.”

Seth’s attention never left the telephone. “It’s the Jared Ryder interview.” He paused, face flushing deeper, while Everett obviously voiced his displeasure.

“Have I ever let you down?” Melissa went on. She hadn’t. But then, she’d never tackled anything this big, either.

“Yes. I know I did,” Seth said to Everett.

“Please,” said Melissa, leaning forward. “I’ll buy my own plane ticket.”

Seth shoulders tensed. “Langard was the best I—”

While Everett obviously weighed in again, Melissa searched her mind for fresh arguments.

“I grew up with horses,” she blurted out. Well, one horse, really. It had lived in a field, on the edge of suburbia, across the street from her new house. She’d nicknamed it Midnight. “I’ll—”

Seth’s glare warned her to shut up.

“—get a job on the ranch.”

Seth smacked his palm over the mouthpiece. “Do you know who this is?”

She gave a small nod.

“Get out.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Melissa pursed her lips.

Seth’s gaze glittered dark with warning as he went back to Everett. “The Cooper story can take the cover.”

Melissa debated a split second longer. But bravery was one thing, stupidity quite another. She’d pushed Seth as far as she dared.

She retreated, and Seth’s voice followed her back to the bullpen. “I’ll get a photographer on it right away.”

Like Brandon had done only minutes before, she avoided eye contact as she made her way to her desk.

“Susan,” Seth bellowed from behind her.

With a darting look of pity at Melissa, Susan rolled back her chair, came to her feet and headed for the editor’s office.

Melissa dropped into her own chair and stared at the randomly bouncing colored balls of her screen saver. She could have gotten that interview. She knew she could have gotten that interview.

“It’s Lorne Cooper on the cover,” said Susan as she slipped back into her seat.

Melissa nodded with resignation. “The sports-gear king.” There was a new megastore opening on Murdoch Street, and “Cruisin’ Cooper” was sponsoring a bicycle race to celebrate.

“The article’s written. All it needs is an update and some new art.”

Melissa pulled herself closer to her computer screen and hit the space bar. “It was written by R. J. Holmes,” she pointed out, voice laced with self-pity. R.J. was one of the newest journalists on staff, and he was beating her out for a cover.

“I guess Seth wasn’t feeling charitable toward Brandon.”

“Or toward me.” Melissa’s screen powered up on a search engine.

“What’ve you got ready?”

“Myers Corp. or the Briggs’ merger.”

Susan didn’t answer.

“I know,” Melissa conceded, randomly poking the H key. “They’re even lamer than Cooper.” Not that any old cover story would clinch the promotion. There was only one story that would catapult her into the feature writer’s job.

She backspaced to erase the H and typed Jared Ryder into the search engine.

In a split second, it returned a list of options that included the home page of Ryder International, Jared’s speech last month to the Chamber of Commerce, contact information for his new office tower and a link to the Ryder Ranch.

Curious, she clicked the ranch link.

A brilliant green panorama of trees, meadows and rolling hills appeared in front of her. The sky was crackling turquoise, while a ribbon of pale blue meandered through the meadow, nearly kissing a two-story, red-roofed house surrounded by pens and outbuildings.

So that was what Montana looked like.

A row of thumbnail pictures lined the bottom of the screen. “Natural beauty,” advertised one caption. “Surrounded by wilderness,” read another. “South of Glacier National Park.”

Susan shut down her own computer, rising to sling three cameras over her shoulder. “Gotta get to work.”

“Have fun,” Melissa offered, clicking on a thumbnail of summer wildflowers. Red, purple, yellow, white. They really were quite gorgeous.

Susan grinned as she pushed a drawer shut with her hip. “I will. Headshots today. Then there’s a gala Friday night, and I’m going to hitch a ride on the channel-ten chopper for the bike race Sunday.”

“Shut up,” Melissa griped as Susan rounded the end of the desk.

Melissa would be sitting right here all week long, in the stuffy, hot office, combing through the minutes of various City Hall committees, looking for permits or variances or financial-policy news, anything that might lead to an interesting business story.

“What’s that?” asked Susan, nodding to the computer screen.

Melissa refocused on the verdant green and bright flowers. “Montana,” she answered. “Where I’d be if Seth had half a heart.” Or half a brain.

She clicked on an area map. There was an airport in Missoula and everything.

“Not my cup of tea,” said Susan, popping a jaunty plaid hat on her curly brown locks.

“Not mine, either,” Melissa admitted, gathering her own straight, blond hair into a knot at the nape of her neck in an effort to let the building’s weak air-conditioning waft over her hot skin. “But I’d fly there in a heartbeat to meet Jared Ryder.”

“So do it,” said Susan.

“Yeah, right.”

“Why not?”

Melissa swiveled to face her coworker. “Because Seth turned me down flat.”

Susan shrugged. “Tell him you’re doing City Hall research from home. Then get on a plane.”

Oh, now that seemed brilliant. “Lie to my boss and ignore his orders?”

“He’ll forgive you if you get the story.” Susan’s lips curved in a conspiratorial grin. “Trust me.”

Melissa let the hair slip out of her hand. The idea was preposterous.

Susan leaned in and lowered her voice. “If you don’t get the story, somebody else will.”

“At least it won’t be Brandon.”

“Result will be the same.”

“Flying to Montana could get me fired,” Melissa pointed out.

“It could also get you promoted.” Susan straightened.

“Easy for you to say.”

Susan shrugged the cameras into a more comfortable position, then adjusted her cap. “Up to you. But no risk, no reward. My biggest payday was when those vandals let the lions loose at Lincoln Park.”

“That was insane,” Melissa reminded her. Susan had been clinging to the branches of an oak tree with a hungry male lion pacing below when the animal-control officer had darted the thing.

Another shrug.

“Are you suggesting that if I don’t put myself in mortal danger, I’m not trying hard enough?”

Susan patted Melissa’s shoulder. “I’m suggesting if you don’t torpedo Brandon and go after that promotion, you’re not trying hard enough.”

Point made, Susan winked and sauntered away, while Melissa drummed her fingertips on the desktop.

She glanced at the pictures of the Montana ranch. Then her gaze shifted to the spacious window cubicle reserved for the new feature writer.

She pictured Seth’s expression when she presented the article. She pictured Brandon’s face when he learned of her coup. She pictured her byline on the cover of the Bizz. Then just for good measure, she pictured herself at the podium, accepting a Prentice award next January. She could wear her black-and-gold-layered gown, with the teardrop medallion she’d found last week in that funky little art gallery on Second.

Take that, Brandon Langard.

Her life would be perfect. All she had to do was talk her way onto the Ryder Ranch.

Body loose in the saddle, Jared Ryder held his horse Tango to a slow walk across the wooden bridge that led to his sister Stephanie’s place. Her jumping-horse outfit was built on Ryder land up on the Bonaparte Plateau, about ten miles into the hills from the main spread at Spirit Lake. Tango’s ears twitched and his body tensed as he took in the nearly hundred head of horses grazing in the fields and milling about in the pens clustered around the main riding arena.

Jared was feeling just as twitchy as his horse. Far from the haven he’d always known, the familiar sights and sounds of Montana brought a crush of memories. And a fresh surge of anger roiled in his belly.

His instinct had been to stay far away from the ranch this week. But his sister, Stephanie, needed him. Besides, Chicago had its own problems at the moment.

Ryder International had just signed a long-term lease to rent space to the City of Chicago in the Ryder office tower that was under construction on Washington Street. For some reason, the mayor had insisted on parading Jared from charity ball to art gallery opening. Jared had been out in public so often that the tabloids started to believe there was a reason to take his picture and stuff a microphone in his face.

It was beyond frustrating. He was a businessman, not a politician or a celebrity. And his personal life was none of their damn business. The reporter from Windy City Bizz camping out at the end of his driveway Monday night was the last straw. When he got back to the city, he was looking into restraining orders and disguises.

But for the moment he had no choice but to come to terms with the home front. He cleared the main equestrian barn, and a cluster of people on horseback at the riding arena came into view. His appearance caught their attention. One horse and rider immediately broke free from the group, trotting down the dirt road to meet him. Both Jared and Tango tracked the pair’s progress past the pens, dotted outbuildings and sparse trees.

“The prodigal returns,” sang his twenty-two-year-old sister, Stephanie, pulling her mare to a halt, raising a cloud of dust in the July sunshine. Her smiling, freckle-flecked face peeked out from her riding helmet. Her long legs were clad in tight jodhpurs and high, glossy brown boots, while a loose, tan blouse ballooned around her small frame. Her unruly auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail.

“I think you’re confusing me with Royce,” said Jared, watching her closely. She might not know what he knew, but they’d all been shaken by their grandfather’s death three months ago.

He halted Tango, who eyed the mare with suspicion.

“At least Royce makes it to my competitions,” Stephanie pointed out, shifting in her stirrups. “He was there to watch me win last week at Spruce Meadows.”

“That’s because he lives on his jet plane,” Jared defended. His brother, Royce, routinely flew from New York to London, Rome and points east, checking out companies to add to the Ryder International empire. Royce was mobile.

“I live in a boardroom,” Jared finished.

“Poor baby,” Stephanie teased. She smiled, but Jared caught the veiled sadness in her silver-blue eyes. Stephanie had been only two when their parents died, and Gramps was the closest thing to a parent she’d known.

“Congratulations,” he told her softly, reflexively tamping down his own anger to focus on her needs. He’d been fifteen when they lost their parents, and he liked to think he’d had a hand in raising her, too. He was immensely proud of her accomplishments as both a rider and a trainer.

“Thanks.” She leaned forward to pat Rosie-Jo, her champion gray Hanoverian, briskly on the neck, but not before Jared caught the telltale sheen in her eyes. “Want to see our trophy?”

“Of course,” he answered. There would be plenty of time later to talk about their grandfather.

“We’ve got a few hours before the meeting.” She drew a brave breath and squared her shoulders, shaking off the sadness as she turned the horse to draw alongside Jared.

Together they headed toward her two-story blue-gabled ranch house.

The annual meeting of the Genevieve Memorial Fund, a charitable trust named in memory of their mother, would take place today. Each year, it was scheduled to coincide with the anniversary of their parents’ deaths. Picturing his parents, Jared felt his anger percolating once more. But he had to suck it up, be a man about it. There was absolutely no point in disillusioning his younger brother and sister.

“I saw you in the Chicago paper last week,” Stephanie chimed in as they left the river behind them.

“That was a picture of the mayor,” Jared corrected. He’d done his best to duck behind the burly man.

“They named you in the caption.”

“Slow news day,” he told her, remembering the flashbulbs outside the gallery and how the reporters had shouted inane questions as he’d helped Nadine into the limo.

Stephanie’s expression turned calculating, her tone curious. “So who was she?”

“Who was who?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know exactly where his baby sister was headed. Raised in a male-dominated household, she’d been lobbying for somebody to please marry a nice woman since she was seven years old.

“The bombshell in the picture with you.”

“She was my date,” he offered, letting the statement dangle without elaboration.

Stephanie pasted him with a look of impatience. “And?”

He forced her to wait a beat longer. “And her name is Nadine Romsey. Sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not a bombshell. She’s a lawyer with Comcoe Newsome.”

Stephanie’s interest grew. “Looks and brains. This must be something serious.”

“It was a business arrangement. The mayor invited me to the party, and there were people attending that Nadine wanted to meet.”

Stephanie pouted. “But she’s so pretty.”

“And you’re so hopelessly romantic.”

“Will you take her out again?”

“Only if she needs to get into another party.” He admired Nadine, but he didn’t have any romantic interest in her.

Stephanie compressed her lips in frustration. “You’ve written her off after one date? You know, you’re never going to meet a woman if you don’t get out there and—”

“I’m ‘out there’ 24/7, little sister.” He gestured around the spread. “That’s what pays for all of this.”

Stephanie pointed her nose in the air. “Ryder Equestrian Center brought in a million dollars last year.”

Jared snorted a laugh. “While you spent four million.”

“We also provided dozens of marketing opportunities for the firm, and we improved your corporate image. That is priceless.”

“You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”

“You should get married, Jared.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be angling for a mother figure?”

“I’m looking for a sister now. You should find someone young and fun. Who likes horses,” she added for good measure, kicking her mare into a faster walk.

Jared shook his head. Between the revelation his grandfather had spoken on his deathbed, the mayor and the media, and Ryder International’s accountant’s concerns that the company was expanding too fast, Jared didn’t have a scrap of emotional or intellectual energy left over for romance.

As he followed Stephanie past the open door of a stable, a sudden tingle spread up his spine. He turned sharply and locked gazes with a blond-haired, green-eyed beauty who stood just inside the main doorway. She was wearing blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, and she held a manure fork in both hands.

She quickly glanced away, but his radar pinged.

What was it?

He stared at her a little longer.

It was the makeup. Her makeup was subtle, but she was definitely wearing some. And he’d bet her blond highlights were from a salon, not the sunshine. Her collared shirt was pressed, and the hands that held the manure fork were soft, bare, no gloves.

“Who’s that?” he asked his sister.

Stephanie turned and followed the direction of his gaze.

“Why? You think she’s pretty?”

Anyone could see the woman was gorgeous. But that wasn’t the point.

“I think she’s a rank greenhorn,” he said.

“Her name’s Melissa … something. Webster, I think. You want me to introduce you? “ The calculating flare was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

“Stop,” Jared ordered.

His sister grinned unrepentantly.

“What I want you to do,” he continued with exaggerated patience, “is to hire experienced staff. We’re blowing enough money on this place as it is.”

“She needed a job,” said Stephanie. “She’s from Indiana.”

He wasn’t sure what the hell Indiana had to do with anything. While he watched, the woman awkwardly scooped a pile of horse manure from the wooden floor and dumped it into a wheelbarrow. “If she needed a million dollars, would you give it to her?”

“She didn’t ask for a million dollars. She’s on her way to Seattle. She needed money for bus fare.”

“You’re hiring transients now?”

“She’s mucking out our stalls, Jared, not signing the company checks.”

“I’m not worried about embezzlement. I’m worried about labor cost efficiency.”

He was also worried something wasn’t quite right. Why would a woman that polished take a menial job for bus fare?

She could be running away from something, he supposed. Or she could be running from someone. Which seemed more likely. An ex-boyfriend? Someone’s angry wife? It had better not be the FBI or the state troopers.

He considered her delicate profile, trying to decide if she was a criminal. She tackled the next pile of manure, her city-soft hands sliding up and down the wooden handle.

“She’s going to get blisters,” he voiced the thought out loud.

“You want to give her some gloves?” asked Stephanie.

“Somebody better,” he conceded. Aimless wanderer or criminal on the run, if they were going to employ her, the least they could do was make sure she avoided injury.

“Hey, Melissa,” Stephanie called.

The woman paused and glanced up.

“Grab some gloves out of the storeroom.”

Melissa gave her hands a puzzled look.

“She hasn’t a clue,” said Jared, hit with an unexpected flash of pity. Maybe she was running from an angry ex. He quickly reined in his thoughts. None of his business.

“You sure you don’t want me to introduce you?” Stephanie singsonged.

Jared turned Tango toward the house. “You going to show me your trophy or what?”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yes, I can.” But Jared glanced over his shoulder one last time as they moved away. Manure fork balanced in the crook of her elbow, the woman named Melissa was wriggling her fingers into the pair of stiff leather gloves. The fork slipped and banged to the wooden floor. The sound startled a horse. The horse startled the woman. She tripped on the fork and landed with a thud on her backside.

Their gazes met once more, his amused, hers annoyed.

He turned away, but the flash of emerald stayed with him as he followed Stephanie to the hitching rail in front of the house.

Two

By the end of the day, the bruise on Melissa’s left butt cheek had settled to a dull ache.

While she swept the last of the straw from the stable floor, a late-model Bentley rumbled its way to the front of the farmhouse. The glossy black exterior might be dusty, but it was still one impressive automobile. And the chauffeur who jumped out of the driver’s seat was crisp in his uniform.

She moved into the oversize doorway, leaning on the end of the broom handle while she waited to see who would emerge from the backseat.

It was an older man, distinguished in a Savile Row suit. He was tall, with a head of thick silver hair. He nodded politely to the chauffeur, then headed up the stairs to the wraparound porch, where both Stephanie and Jared appeared to greet him and usher him inside.

The chauffeur shut the car door. He glanced curiously around the ranch yard before moving to open the trunk. Melissa peered at the house, but there was no way to guess what was going on inside. The man might be a friend, or perhaps he was a business associate.

Jared’s sister’s house seemed like an odd location for a business meeting. Unless, of course, somebody wanted to keep the meeting a secret.

Now that was an interesting possibility. Was there something clandestine in the works for Ryder International?

As the chauffeur had before her, Melissa glanced curiously around the yard. Several young riders were practicing jumps in the main ring, their grooms and trainers watching. A group of stable hands were loading hay into a pickup truck beside the biggest barn, and three cowboys were urging a small herd of horses across the river with a pair of border collies lending a hand. Nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to the Bentley.

Then another vehicle appeared and pulled up to the house. This one was an SUV, larger but no less luxurious than the Bentley.

A thirtysomething man with dark glasses and curly dark hair stepped out of the driver’s seat. He looked Mediterranean, and he was definitely not a chauffeur. He wore loafers, well-cut blue jeans, an open white dress shirt and a dark jacket. He also offered a polite greeting to the Bentley driver before striding up the stairs of the porch.

Melissa’s journalistic curiosity all but ordered her to investigate. She leaned her broom up against the stable wall and started across the yard. She told herself she’d put in a good eight hours today. It was close to dinnertime, and the Bentley was at least vaguely in the direction of the cookhouse. She’d have a plausible excuse if anyone questioned her.

Ironically she’d been disappointed not to get a job down at the main ranch. The foreman there had all but sent her packing this morning when she’d told him she was a stranded traveler. Luckily Stephanie Ryder had been there at the time. The younger woman had taken pity on Melissa and offered her a job at the Ryder Equestrian Center. Melissa had been plotting ways to get back to the main ranch when Jared and his horse had wandered into the yard. Talk about good luck.

Now she was looking for more luck. She smiled brightly at the chauffeur, smudging her palms along the sides of her thighs, wishing she wasn’t covered in dust and sweat, and was wearing something other than blue jeans and a grime-streaked shirt. She wasn’t the greatest flirt in the world, but in the right party dress, she could usually hold a man’s attention.

“Very nice car,” she ventured in a friendly voice as she approached.

The man pushed the trunk closed and gazed critically at the Bentley. “I suppose dust is better than mud.”

She guessed he was about her own age, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. He was attractive, in a farmboyfresh kind of way, with blond hair, a straight nose and a narrow chin. He was clean-shaven, and his hair was neatly trimmed.

She slowed her steps, taking in the Montana license plate and committing the number to memory. “Did you have a long drive in?” she asked pleasantly.

“Couple of hours from Helena.”

Helena. Good. That was a start. “So you work in Helena?”

“Three years now.”

She stayed silent for a moment, hoping he’d elaborate on his job or the company. She scanned both his uniform and the car for a logo.

“Your first time at Ryder Ranch?” She tried another approach.

He nodded at that. “Heard about it, of course. Everybody in the state knows about the Ryders.”

“I’m from Indiana,” she supplied.

“Grew up south of Butte myself.” He gave the dust on the car another critical gaze. “There a hose around here someplace?”

She had no idea. “I guess you meet interesting people in your job?” She struggled to keep the conversation focused on his employment.

“I do some.” He glanced around the ranch yard while a horse whinnied in the distance, and a tractor engine roared to life. Unfortunately he didn’t pick up the conversational thread.

But Melissa wasn’t giving up, not by a long shot. She moved in a step closer, tossing back her hair, hoping it looked disheveled, instead of unruly.

Her actions caught his attention, and he glanced at the ground.

She lowered her voice as she gave him her brightest smile. “I’m a little embarrassed,” she cooed. “But should I know the man you dropped off?”

The chauffeur looked back up. He didn’t answer. Instead, he swallowed hard, and his neck flushed beneath the collar of his uniform.

“I only ask,” she continued, tilting her head to one side, surprised it took so little to rattle him, “because I don’t want …”

He worked his jaw.

She paused, waiting for him, but he didn’t make a sound.

She suddenly realized his gaze wasn’t fixed on her. He was focused on a spot behind her left shoulder. Her scalp prickled.

Uh-oh. She twisted her head and came face-to-face with Jared Ryder.

It was clear he was annoyed. He was also taller than she’d realized, and intimidating, with that strong chin and those deep blue eyes. He wore a fitted, Western-cut shirt and snug blue jeans. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep, and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing a deep tan and obvious muscle definition.

“Don’t want to what?” he asked Melissa, his tone a low rumbling challenge.

She didn’t have a quick answer for that, and his deep blue gaze flicked to the silent chauffeur. “There’s coffee in the cookhouse.” He gave the man a nod in the appropriate direction.

The chauffeur immediately took his cue and hustled away.

Jared’s tone turned to steel, the power of his irritation settling fully on Melissa. “I’d sure appreciate it if you could flirt on your own time.”

“I …” What could she tell him? That she wasn’t flirting? That, in fact, she was spying?

Better to go with flirting.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, offering no excuses.

He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment, followed by a long assessing gaze that made her glad she was only pretending to be his employee.

“I don’t know why Stephanie hired you,” he finally stated.

Melissa wasn’t sure how to answer that, or even if he expected an answer. The only thing she did know was that she was determined to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to him alone.

“You’re Stephanie’s brother?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t been poring over his press coverage on the Internet.

“She tells me you grew up around horses,” he countered, instead of answering the question.

“I did.” Melissa nodded. Technically it was true. She gestured to the northern paddocks. “You obviously grew up around a lot of them.”

“My qualifications aren’t at issue.”

“Stephanie seemed fine with mine.” Melissa valiantly battled the nerves bubbling in her stomach. “I saw the main house yesterday. The one your grandparents built. Were you born on the Ryder Ranch?”

A muscle ticked in his left cheek. “Since you’re obviously not busy with anything else, I need you to move my horse to the riverside pen. The one with the red gate.”

“Sure.” The brave word jumped out before she had a chance to censor it.

“Name’s Tango.” Jared pointed to a paddock on the other side of the driveway turnaround where a black horse pranced and bucked his way around the fence line. Its head was up, ears pointed, and it was tossing his mane proudly for the three horses in the neighboring pen.

Melissa’s bravado instantly evaporated.

“You can tack him up if you like,” Jared continued. “Or he’s fine bareback.”

Bareback? She swallowed. Not that a saddle would help.

“Melissa?”

Okay. New plan. Forget the interview, it was time for a quick exit.

“I … just …” she stammered. “I … uh … just remembered, I’m off shift.”

His brows twitched upward. “We have shifts?”

“I mean …” She blinked up at him. What? What? What the hell did she say?

She rubbed the bruise on her left butt cheek, making a show of wincing. “My fall. Earlier. I’m a little stiff and sore.”

“Too stiff to sit on a horse?” He clearly found the excuse preposterous.

“I’m also a little rusty.” She attempted to look contrite and embarrassed. “I haven’t ridden for a while.”

He cocked his head, studying her all over again. “It’s like riding a bike.”

She was sure it was.

“Tack’s on the third stand. Don’t let him hold his breath when you cinch the saddle.”

As far as she was concerned, Tango could do any old thing he pleased. She wasn’t going to stop him from holding his breath. Quite frankly she’d rather chase lions around Lincoln Park.

“I really can’t—”

“We fire people who can’t get the job done,” Jared flatly warned her.

The threat stopped Melissa cold. If she got fired, she’d be thrown off the property. She could kiss the article and her promotion goodbye. And if Seth found out she’d been here, she could probably kiss her job at the Bizz goodbye, too.

“I hope you won’t,” she said in all sincerity.

Jared searched her expression for a long moment. His voice went low, and the space between them grew smaller. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I’ve been working really hard,” she told him without hesitation.

“Not at the moment,” he pointed out.

“It’s six o’clock.”

“We’re not nine to five on Ryder Ranch.”

“I’m prepared for that.”

He edged almost imperceptibly closer, revealing tiny laugh lines beside his eyes and a slight growth of beard along his tanned square jaw. “Are you?”

She ignored the tug of attraction to his rugged masculinity. “Yes.”

“You’ll pull your own weight?”

“I will.”

“You can’t depend on your looks around here.”

Melissa drew back in surprise.

“If I catch you batting those big green eyes—”

“I never—”

He leaned closer still and she shut her mouth. “You mess with my cowboys, and your pretty little butt will be off the property in a heartbeat.”

A rush of heat prickled her cheeks. “I have no intention of messing with your cowboys.”

A cloud rolled over the setting sun, and a chill dampened the charged air between them.

Jared’s nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened to indigo in the shifting light. He stared at her for a lengthening moment, then his head canted to one side.

How his kiss might feel bloomed unbidden in her mind. It would be light, then firm, then harder still as he pulled her body flush against his own. A flash of heat stirred her body as the wind gusted between them, forming tiny dust devils on the driveway and rustling the tall, summer grass.

The ranch hands still shouted to one another. Hooves still thudded against the packed dirt. And the diesel engines still rumbled in the distance.

“See that you don’t,” he finally murmured. “And move my damn horse.”

“Fine,” she ground out, quashing the stupid hormonal reaction. She’d move the damn horse or die trying.

Later that evening, in Stephanie’s dining room, Jared struggled to put Melissa out of his mind. His sister had obviously hired the woman out of pity. Then Jared had kept her on for the same reason. He wasn’t sure who’d made the bigger mistake.

“We’ve had thirty-five new requests for assistance this year,” said Otto Durand, moving a manila file to the top of his pile. Otto had been a board member of the Genevieve Memorial Fund for fifteen years. He was also the CEO of Rutledge Agricultural Equipment and a lifelong friend of Jared and Melissa’s parents.

“We do have the money,” Anthony Salvatore put in, flipping through a report. “Donations, they are up nearly twenty percent.” Anthony was a distant relative, the son of Jared’s mother’s cousin. The cousin had met and fallen in love with Carmine Salvatore on a college trip to Naples, and their only son had held a special place in Genevieve’s heart.

Stephanie replaced the empty bottle of merlot on the large oblong table as the housekeeper cleared away the last of the dinner dishes.

Although Royce was stuck in London until Saturday, the remaining four board members of the Genevieve Fund were empowered to make decisions on this year’s projects.

“I like the school in West Africa,” said Stephanie.

“Most of the kids in that region are from agricultural families.”

“Mom would like that,” Jared acknowledged, then caught Stephanie’s fleeting wince. This year in particular, he knew his sister felt a hole in her life where her mother should have been.

Along with their grandfather, he and Royce had struggled to keep their mother’s memory alive for her, showing videos, telling stories, displaying mementos. But there was a loneliness inside her that they couldn’t seem to fill. It had always manifested itself in hard work and a driving need to succeed. Jared only had to look at the row of equestrian jumping trophies along the mantelpiece to know how hard she pushed herself.

“Yes to the West Africa school.” Otto put a check mark on page three of his report. “And I think we can all agree on increasing the animal shelter contributions. Now, the South American clinic project?”

“I still think it’s too dangerous,” said Jared. He knew his brother, Royce, had advocated for the project after meeting a British university student who’d worked in the mountainous region. But there were too many unknowns, too many frightening stories coming out of the area.

“The rebel activity has been down in that area for six months now,” Anthony put in. “And we will use a contractor with experience in the area.”

“What about security?” Jared countered. It wasn’t the first time the Genevieve Fund had worked in an unstable part of the world, but the other projects had a multiagency, multinational presence, and security had been provided by experts.

“We will hire our own security,” said Anthony.

Jared wasn’t going to be easily convinced. “For the cost of private security, we could take on two other projects.”

“None that are as critical as this one,” said Anthony, warming up to the debate. The two of them settled into a familiar rhythm of point counterpoint, each trying to convince Stephanie and Otto of the merits of their respective positions.

Jared acknowledged it was a worthwhile project, while Anthony acknowledged the security circumstances were less than ideal. Still, on balance, Jared felt the situation was far too dangerous, and he made that clear in no uncertain terms.

Finally Anthony threw up his hands in frustration. “I am going for some air.”

Fine with Jared. It would give him a few minutes alone with Stephanie and Otto to solidify his case.

Stephanie stood to stretch, while Otto dropped his pen on the report in front of him, speaking before Jared had a chance. “Maybe we should go with Anthony and Royce on this one.”

“And if somebody gets kidnapped or killed?” It was a worst-case scenario, but it was also a realistic one.

“They have signed a ceasefire,” Otto said.

“Not worth the paper it’s printed on. It’s Sierra Benito, for goodness’ sake. The political situation could turn on a dime.” Jared’s gaze caught Anthony’s profile through the gauzy curtains.

“How many kidnappings last year?” asked Stephanie.

“Too many,” replied Jared.

“Nothing since December,” said Otto. “I don’t want to go against you on—”

“And I’m not looking for risk-free,” Jared stressed. “And I don’t mind spending the extra money on security. But do we really want to take Royce’s advice on what’s dangerous and what’s not?”

Neither Otto nor Stephanie had an answer for that.

In the sudden silence Jared caught another movement on the porch. But this time it wasn’t Anthony’s profile. It was.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He rose from his chair, ignoring their looks of surprise as he crossed to the front door.

“We still have the family home in Naples,” Anthony was saying to Melissa as Jared pushed open the screen door. “And I visit it as often as possible.” Anthony had planted his butt against the log railing of the porch, one arm bracing him on each side while Melissa stood in front of him.

“I’ve always wanted to see Italy.” She sighed. “The Colosseum, Vatican City, the Sistine Chapel.”

Jared scoffed. Pretty big dreams for a woman who couldn’t even make it to Seattle.

Anthony levered himself forward to standing, and Melissa didn’t back off.

“I would love to show you Venice,” he said in a voice that promised more than a tour of the Grand Canal.

Jared wasn’t sure who he should warn—Melissa that Anthony was a player, or Anthony that Melissa’s only life skill appeared to be flirting.

“I assume you moved my horse?” he said, instead, causing her to turn her head. Once again she looked both guilty and surprised to see him. And once again he was stabbed in the solar plexus with a shot of unwelcome attraction.

He determinedly shook it off.

“Melissa and I were discussing the treasures of Italy,” Anthony offered conversationally, but the set of his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth told Jared that he didn’t welcome the interruption.

Too bad.

“You’re supposed to be thinking about Sierra Benito,” Jared reminded him, moving through the beam of the porch light, transmitting his clear intention to join the conversation.

“Business can wait,” said Anthony.

Jared made a show of glancing at his watch. “It’s been a long meeting already.”

“Give me five minutes. I will be right in.”

But Jared had absolutely no intention of leaving.

Melissa glanced back and forth between the two men. Her expression hadn’t changed, but the interest in her eyes was obvious.

“Since Melissa’s here—” Jared angled his body toward her “—maybe she has something to contribute. What do you think? Is Sierra Benito too dangerous for a humanitarian project?”

Anthony jumped in. “I am sure Melissa doesn’t want to discuss—”

“Do you mean right in Suri City?” she asked. “Or up in the mountains?”

Her answer surprised him. Most people had never heard of Sierra Benito, never mind its capital city.

“A little village called Tappee,” he told her.

Her head shook almost imperceptibly, but the small motion emphasized the bounce to her silky blond hair. “Horrible conditions up there. The villagers live in abject poverty.”

Anthony chuckled and swung an arm around her shoulders. “I welcome you to the debate, Senorita Melissa.”

Jared steeled himself against the urge to rip her out of Anthony’s arms. It was a ridiculous reaction. The half hug was a friendly gesture, nothing more.

“Do you have any idea what the gold miners do to the villagers?” Melissa asked. She didn’t react to Anthony’s hug—didn’t lean in, didn’t shrug him off, either.

“Do you have any idea what the rebels do to the gold miners?” Jared asked around the clamor of emotion inside his head.

What the hell was the matter with him?

What did he care if Anthony hugged Melissa?

She shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re going to exploit them.”

Jared jerked back at the accusation. “Exploit who?”

“The villagers.”

“I’m not going to exploit the villagers.” Jared’s gaze caught on Anthony’s hand and held.

Melissa was wearing a white cotton shirt. It was thin fabric, hardly a barrier between Anthony’s fingertips and her shoulder. Why didn’t she shrug him off?

She scoffed. “Right. You’ll subcontract the exploitation to Madre Gold to Tomesko Mining.”

“That’s a leap in logic,” he pointed out.

“There’s no other reason to go to Tappee.”

“We are building a medical clinic,” Anthony put in.

“Not necessarily,” Jared countered with a warning glare.

Melissa glanced from one to the other with surprise and more than a little curiosity.

“How do you know anything about Tappee?” he couldn’t help but probe, watching her closely for signs of … he wasn’t even sure what.

“I read the Chicago Daily,” she answered with a blink, and her green eyes went back to neutral. “There was a story last year about a mining engineer who was kidnapped by rebels.”

“The company paid a million dollars.” Jared took the story to its conclusion. “And they killed the guy, anyway.”

“That was more than a year ago,” said Anthony. “And we are not going there to mine.”

“You think they care?” asked Jared. “Do you honestly believe they won’t take any Westerner hostage?”

“I believe they do care,” said Melissa.

“Yeah?” Jared challenged. “Is that conclusion based on your vast travel experience with the American national bus system?”

“Do not be rude,” Anthony cut in, anger clear in his tone.

Well, Jared was angry, too. He’d had about enough of the argument, and he’d had about enough of watching Anthony maul Melissa. He grabbed his Stetson hat from a peg on the wall and crammed it on his head.

“I’m going to walk Melissa back to her cottage,” he announced, linking her arm and moving her firmly out of Anthony’s grasp.

“What in the hell.” Anthony began.

“You need to get back to the meeting,” Jared ordered over his shoulder, propelling Melissa toward the stairs. It took her a second to get her feet sorted out under her, but he made sure she didn’t stumble.

He could feel Anthony watching them as they crossed the darkened yard toward the driveway lights. Jared knew he was going to get an earful back in the house, but he didn’t care. He could give just as good as he got.

He marched her forward at a brisk pace. He didn’t know which cottage Melissa had been assigned, but single women were usually on the river side of the arena, so he took a chance and turned right.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t about walking me back to my cabin?” asked Melissa.

Jared gritted his teeth, struggling to bring his emotions back under control. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not here to earn money for a bus ticket?”

Three

Melissa ordered herself not to panic. There was no reason to assume he knew the truth. But even as she mentally reassured herself, the roots of her hair prickled in dread.

His pace was brisk, his large hand still wrapped around her upper arm. It felt strong and uncompromising as steel. She wondered if he intended to march her all the way to his property line.

“First the chauffeur.” Jared’s angry voice cut through the night air. “Then Anthony.” He sucked in a tight breath. “And I can guess what went on with the damn horse.”

The last took Melissa by surprise.

The horse? Why would she interview his horse?

“Ride it yourself?” Jared taunted.

Melissa struggled to make sense out of the accusation. She hadn’t ridden the horse herself, but how could that possibly be relevant?

“Or did you get a little help?” he finished on a meaningful lilt.

He obviously already knew she had. There was no point in lying about that. “I got one of the cowboys to help me. Rich or Rand or Rafe … something …”

“I’ll just bet you did.” The contempt in Jared’s voice was crystal clear.

“So what?” Her confusion was starting to turn to annoyance. Rafe had, in fact, offered to help her. The whole operation hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes of his time.

“So what?“ Jared jerked her to a stop and rounded on her, glaring from beneath his battered tan Stetson.

Melissa caught her breath while she searched his hard expression in the shadowed light. Why was the horse such a salient detail? Shouldn’t he be more upset about the way she’d pumped Anthony for information?

Unless …

It suddenly hit her that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t caught. Jared was angry about her interaction with his cowboys.

“Is there a company ban on cowboys helping stable hands?” she asked.

“No, but I’m thinking about banning fraternization.”

His obvious euphemism was more than a little offensive. “You think I had time to fraternize with Rafe before dinner?”

Something flickered in his eyes. It might have been regret. “I think flirting is your only life skill.”

“It’s not.” For starters, she had a university degree. She owned real estate. And she had a good job, soon to be a great job if she could pull off this interview.

“Do tell,” he challenged.

“I’m intelligent, articulate and organized.”

“You couldn’t even organize a bus ticket to Seattle.”

“Buying the bus ticket ahead of time wasn’t the point.”

“What was the point?”

“I’m experiencing America.”

“By batting your eyes and swaying your hips?”

She held up her blistered palms. “By shoveling your stable for eight hours.”

He reached for her wrist, moving her hands under the beam of a yard light, and his expression tightened. “You put something on this?”

“Work gloves.” And she wished she’d thought to do it sooner.

“I’m serious.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I’m fine.”

He took in her body from head to toe. “I don’t think you’re cut out for manual labor.”

She subconsciously shifted her injured hands behind her back. “I told you I was fine.”

“You know how to operate a computer? Type? File?”

Oh, no. She wasn’t giving up her ranch job. “I’ve never worked in an office,” she lied. “Besides, I only need bus fare. I’ll be out of your hair in a week.” At least that part was true.

“You might not last a week.”

“I lasted a day.”

“Maybe.” He paused. “But you know those guys you’re flirting with are going to eventually expect you to put out.”

“No, they won’t.” She wasn’t flirting anywhere near that seriously.

Jared grunted his disbelief.

The man was an alarmist. But he didn’t have the worst idea in the world.

Instead of arguing with him, she sidled forward, tucking her hair behind her ears and lowering her voice to a sultry level. “So how far do you think I’ll have to go?”

He brows quirked up. “You’re flirting with me?”

She leaned in. “Is it working?”

He shifted, letting his crooked hip and cocked head transmit his indolence. “All depends on what you’re after.”

What she wanted was the story of his life. And she was definitely prepared to bat her eyes a little to get it. “An exemption from riding your horse,” she said, instead. “He’s scary. Where’d you get him?”

“He’s a direct descendent of Renegade.”

Melissa tilted her head and widened her eyes, letting the silence go on for a moment.

“My great-great-grandfather’s stallion,” said Jared. “The pair of them settled this valley back in 1883.”

“I thought your grandparents built the original house.” She’d seen the impressive structure when she first arrived this morning.

“The house, yes.” He nodded downriver. “The original cabin’s been abandoned for decades.”

“So you’re the fifth Ryder generation to live here?” Her article wasn’t going to focus on the family history, but Melissa found herself fascinated by the thought of such deep roots.

“I’m the fifth,” said Jared. “Tango’s somewhere in the twenties.”

“You’ve kept records?”

“Of course we’ve kept records.” His tone told her she should have known that.

To cover the blunder, she turned and started walking down the rutted driveway, continuing her way toward the Windy River and the little white cottage she’d been assigned this morning. “How many horses do you have now?”

Jared fell into step beside her. “Several hundred. Several thousand head of cattle.”

“Is the ranch still profitable?”

He hesitated, and she could feel him looking down at her. “Why do you ask?”

She kept her focus on the quarter moon riding above the silhouetted mountain range across the river. “You went into construction.”

“How did you know that?”

“I heard people talk. Around the ranch.”

“Gossip?”

“No,” she quickly denied. “Just chitchat. You’re here. You’re usually in Chicago. People commented on it over lunch.” Truth was, Melissa had carefully orchestrated the conversation that had revealed that information and more, but there was no need to mention that to Jared.

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

She dared to look up at him. “You’re the boss. People naturally care about what you do.”

“They shouldn’t.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Maybe not. But that’s not the way life works.”

“It’s gossip,” he stated. “Plain and simple.”

“It’s curiosity,” she corrected. “And it’s interest. And respect.”

He ground out an inarticulate sound.

“You can’t make millions of dollars and hope to stay under the radar,” she told him.

“How do you know I make millions of dollars?”

“How many acres you got here?”

“Five thousand.”

“I rest my case.”

“Most cattle ranches lose money these days.”

“Most construction companies make money these days.”

Jared didn’t answer. They came up on the short bridge over the froth of a narrow spot in the river. A dirt driveway jutted off to the south, winding through a grass-and-wildflower carpet dotted with aspen and oak trees, which fronted the staff cabins. It looked exactly like the picture on the ranch Web site. This morning it had taken Melissa’s breath away.

“Which is yours?” Jared asked, nodding to the neat row of white cottages.

“Number six.”

“I’ll walk you down.” He turned on the driveway, and Melissa was struck by how easily he fit into the surroundings. He had a smooth, rolling, loose-limbed stride, and his booted feet never faltered on the uneven ground. A few lights burned behind curtained windows.

“Very gentlemanly of you.” She hoped to keep him talking as long as possible.

“Wouldn’t want you to run into a cougar.” He seemed to be teasing, but it was hard to tell.

She decided to assume the ranch staff weren’t in mortal danger this close to the buildings. “I’m more afraid of rogue cattle,” she returned.

“The range bulls are up in the hills right now.”

“Good to know. So how long are you in Montana?”

“About as long as you.”

“Something you have to get back to?” She tripped on a tree root, and he quickly grasped her arm to steady her.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation. You seem to like it here.”

He gazed around. The Windy River roared its way past, while an owl hooted in a faraway tree. A pair of truck lights flashed in the distance beyond the barns, while several horses whinnied to each other on the night air.

Melissa surreptitiously slowed her steps, not wanting to arrive at her cottage while Jared was still willing to talk.

“I’ve always liked it here.” But his jaw was tight and his voice seemed strained.

Melissa sensed an undercurrent. “Why did you leave?” she dared.

“To make money,” was the quick response.

“Cowboys need millions?”

“A spread this size needs millions. The past few decades have been hard on Montana ranchers. It’ll change in the future. It has to. But for now …”

Her footsteps slowed to a stop. There was no help for it, they’d arrived at her front porch. She turned to face him, scrambling for ways to prolong the inevitable. She wasn’t likely to get another chance like this for the rest of the week.

“So for now you’re building office towers to keep your cattle ranch and horse-jumping operation in the black.”

“How did you know I was building office towers?” The man was entirely too observant for her comfort level.

“Somebody also mentioned it at lunch today,” she said, bluffing.

Jared stared into her eyes for a long slow moment. Then his index finger went to her chin and he tipped her face to the starlight. “There’s something about you, Melissa.”

“I’m a decent flirt?” Better to feed into his misconception than to let him start thinking about other possibilities.

He gazed at her a moment longer. “That must be it.” He paused again, his expression going unexpectedly intimate. “So you going to put out now?”

His voice was smooth, his dark eyes sensual, and his lips full and soft. Melissa let herself envision delivering with a kiss. Would it be soft and sweet? Strong and sure? Sensual? Sexy? Or downright erotic?

“You really are frighteningly good at this.” His gruff voice interrupted her fantasy.

She blinked. “Huh?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step back. “I can see why you’ve got so many men at your beck and call.”

She shook her head. “I don’t—”

“Be careful, Melissa,” he warned. “Not all of them will walk away.”

And with that, he turned on his heel.

She thought about calling out to protest. Her flirtation was normally light and inconsequential. She’d never let herself get carried away. This was the first time she’d ever even considered taking the next step.

And she wouldn’t have actually kissed him.

There was far too much at stake. All she wanted was some information on his business, his life, his background.

And she had some.

Melissa couldn’t help but smile.

Jared might think she was shameless, but at least he didn’t know she was a journalist, and she’d obtained more useful material for her article.

Ignoring the anger in his stride, and the stiff set of his shoulders as he made his way back down the dirt driveway, she skipped up the stairs to her cottage. She needed to make notes right away.

“What did you do to tick Anthony off last night?” Stephanie’s voice startled Jared as he tightened Tango’s cinch in front of her house midmorning. The meeting had ended late last night, and it had been simpler to sleep here than ride ten miles to the main house at the cattle ranch in the dark. Anthony and Otto had left immediately after breakfast.

He took one final reflexive look at Melissa cleaning tack inside a shed across the driveway. The woman was taking an inordinately long time on a basic bridle. Then he slipped the cinch buckle into place and turned to face his sister.

Stephanie was dressed in dressage clothes, obviously ready for another day of training with Rosie-Jo. They had a competition coming up, but Jared couldn’t remember the details.

“I told him to stop flirting with the help,” Jared answered.

“What help?”

“Melissa.” He pulled the right stirrup into place. “I don’t know why you hired that woman. She’s completely useless.”

“She needed a job,” said Stephanie.

“We’re not running a charitable organization.”

Stephanie stuffed one hand on her hip. “Actually we are.”

Jared rolled his eyes, grasping the saddle horn to wiggle it and test the placement. “Then she can apply through the Genevieve Fund.”

“Don’t be such a hard-ass.”

“I’m not a hard-ass. I’m a realist.” He nodded toward Melissa. “She’s been working on that same bridle for half an hour. And mark my words, she’s going to cause trouble between the cowboys.”

“The cowboys are full-grown men.”

“My point exactly.”

“They’re responsible for their own behavior.”

Jared gave his sister a meaningful glare. Men were men. And flirtatious women were trouble. “Like I said, I’m a realist.”

Stephanie set her helmet on the end post of the hitching rail and gathered her auburn hair into a ponytail. “I’m not going to fire Melissa.”

“Well, I’m not going to be responsible for the fallout,” he warned.

“Who said you had to be responsible? Besides, aren’t you going back down to the cattle ranch today?”

Jared gently positioned the bit in Tango’s mouth. “Thought I’d stay at your place for a few days.”

There was a moment’s silence, and he braced himself.

Her tone hardened. “I’m perfectly fine, big brother.”

“I know you’re perfectly fine,” Jared allowed. He was sure she felt that way for now.

“This is no different than any other anniversary.”

Jared didn’t argue the point. But they’d just lost their grandfather, and Stephanie was hurting. No matter how hard she pretended otherwise, the siblings’ annual reunion and visit to the family graveyard would be particularly difficult for her this year. He usually stayed down at the main house at the cattle ranch, since it was larger. But Stephanie couldn’t leave her work and her students at the equestrian center, so he’d stay here instead.

“When’s Royce showing up?” he asked, instead.

“Saturday. You should get back down there and help McQuestin.” Stephanie referred to their aging cattle ranch manager.

“McQuestin doesn’t want my help.”

She plunked her helmet on her head and set her lips in a mulish line. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Jared leaned back against the hitching rail, crossing his arms over his chest while he faced his sister. “Maybe I need you.”

Her pale blue eyes immediately softened. “You do?”

He nodded. It wasn’t a lie. He needed to be with her right now. It was the only way he’d be sure she was okay.

She moved forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I know you miss Gramps. Do you still miss Mom and Dad?”

Jared nodded again. But this time, his lie was outright. He didn’t miss his parents. He was angry with his parents. Furious, if the truth be known. But that was his burden, the secret passed down by his grandfather. His only choice was to preserve their memories for his siblings.

Stephanie’s eyes shimmered and she blinked rapidly. “Then you should stay.”

Jared covered her hand with his. “Thank you.”

“You want to watch me jump?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “I’m going to check the pasture land at Buttercup Pond. Clear my head a little. I’ll swing by later in the morning.”

Stephanie nodded. Then she swiped the back of her hand across one cheek and headed for the main arena.

Jared tugged Tango’s lead rope free and swung up into the saddle. The ride to Buttercup Pond to establish his cover story would take him a couple of hours. But his real mission was across the Windy River. Since his grandfather’s deathbed revelation in April, he couldn’t get his great-great-grandparents’ cabin out of his mind.

The walk to the Ryders’ great-great-grandparents’ cabin took longer than Melissa had expected. At last she came around a bend of the river to see two cabins. One, made of logs, was nearly collapsing with age. The other was obviously newer. It was larger, made from lumber, with glass windows still intact and peeling white paint on the walls and porch.

A single story, it was L-shaped, with a peaked, green shingle roof. The rails had sagged off the porch, but the three steps looked safe enough, and the front door was a few inches ajar. The buildings were surrounded by a wildflower meadow that nestled up against steep rocky cliffs, jutting into the crystal-blue sky. The river glided by through a wide spot, nearly silent compared to the rapids upstream.

Melissa pulled out her cell phone, clicking a couple of pictures, wishing Susan was along with her camera.

Then she gingerly climbed the three stairs. She pressed the front door, slowly creaking it open. A dank, dusty room was revealed in the filtered sunlight through the stained windows. It held a stone fireplace, an aging dining table and chairs, and the remnants of a sofa. The floorboards were warped and creaky. Through a doorway, yellowed linoleum lined a small kitchen. Curtains hung in shreds over two of the windows.

Melissa let herself imagine the long-ago family. Jared’s great-grandfather must have grown up here. Was he an only child? Did he have brothers and sisters? Did Jared have cousins and more-distant relatives around the country?

She made a mental note to research the family’s genealogy.

On the far side of the living room, next to the kitchen door, a narrow hallway led to the other side of the house. The floor groaned under her running shoe–clad feet as she made her way through. Her movement stirred up dust, and she covered her mouth and nose with her hand to breathe more easily.

The hallway revealed two bedrooms. One was stark, with plywood bunks nailed to the wall and a hollow cutout of a closet. But the second was a surprise. Intact yellow curtains hung over the window. The bed was obviously newer than the other furnishings, and a brightly colored quilt was shoved against the brass footboard, while the remnants of two pillows were strewn at the head.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice nearly scared Melissa out of her skin. Her hand flew to her heart as she whirled around to see Jared standing in the bedroom doorway.

“You scared me half to death!” she told him.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“It’s lunchtime. I thought you were a ghost.” Her heart was still racing, and adrenaline prickled her skin, flushing her body, then cooling it rapidly.

“Still very much alive,” he drawled, expression accusing. “What are you doing here?”

“I was curious.”

He waited.

“Last night. You mentioned your great-great-grandparents and, well, I like old buildings.”

“So you walked two miles?”

“Yes.”

“On your lunch hour?”

“I wanted to come while it was light.”

He sighed in disgust and gave his head a little shake. “You’re flaky, you know that? Instead of eating, you take off on a whim to see a dilapidated old building. How are you going to work all afternoon?”

“I’ll manage,” she offered, already hungry and quite willing to concede his point. But she didn’t have a lot of time to waste.

“You’ll be passing out by two.”

She could have argued, but she had more important questions. “What’s with this room?” She gestured around. “It seems newer.”

Jared’s gaze fixed on the disheveled bed for a long beat. His eyes hardened to sapphire, and a muscle ticked next to his left eye. “Must have been a staff member sleeping here.”

“You think?” She wondered why they hadn’t fixed up the rest of the house.

He seemed to guess her question. “I imagine they ate at the cookhouse with everybody else.”

He turned his attention fully to Melissa and held out a broad callused hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”

“You drove?” Why hadn’t she heard the engine?

“I rode Tango.”

She instinctively shrank back.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to ride double on him.”

“Of course not.” She sure hoped there wasn’t a trick to riding double.

“Then let’s go. You need to eat something.”

“I’ll be fi—”

“No, you won’t. Skipping lunch was a stupid decision. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay alive this long.” He reached out and grasped her hand, tugging her out of the bedroom and down the hall.

“Did your great-grandfather have siblings?” she dared to ask.

“He had a sister.”

“That explains the bunk beds.”

“Yes, it does.”

Melissa blinked in the strong sunlight, her focus going immediately to where Tango was tied to the porch.

Jared mounted, then maneuvered the horse flush against the railingless platform, holding out his hand.

Melissa took a deep breath. She braced herself against his forearm, then arced her right leg high, swinging her butt to land with an unladylike thud, off-center behind the saddle on Tango’s broad back.

The horse grunted and stepped sideways.

Jared swore out loud, reached back to snag her waist and shoved her into place as her arms went instinctively around his body and clung tight.

“Sorry,” she muttered against his back.

“You’re a klutz,” he told her. “On top of everything else, you’re a klutz.”

“I never learned to ride properly,” she admitted.

“You need to learn some life skills,” he responded. “I don’t even care which ones. But damn, woman, you’ve got to learn how to do something.”

He urged Tango into a fast walk. The motion and play of muscles were unsettling beneath Melissa’s body. She kept her arms tight around Jared, slowly becoming aware of the intimacy of their position. Her breasts were plastered against his back, his cotton shirt and her T-shirt little barrier to the heat of their bodies. Her cheek rested against him, and every time she inhaled, her lungs were filled with his subtle, woodsy musk scent.

She was quickly getting turned on. Arousal boiled in the pit of her belly and tingled along her thighs. Her nipples had grown hard, and for a mortifying moment, she wondered if he could feel them.

“Where do you live in Indiana?” he asked, voice husky.

“Gary.”

“You have a job there?”

“Not yet.” She’d decided claiming to have a job would raise too many questions about why she needed money, and how she had enough time off to travel across the country.

“An apartment?”

“I’ve been staying with friends.” Not having a job meant she couldn’t claim to be paying rent. Unless she had investments or family money. In which case, she wouldn’t need to earn money for a bus ticket.

As embarrassing as it might be, she had to pretend to be as big a loser as Jared had decided she was in order to maintain her cover story.

He grunted his disapproval, and she felt a twinge of regret that she couldn’t set the record straight. But it wasn’t her job to impress Jared Ryder. And it sure wasn’t her job to be attracted to him. She’d have to fight her instincts on both fronts.

Four

Near the cookhouse, Jared helped Melissa down from Tango’s back. She staggered to a standing position, and he could see the pain reflected in her expression as she stretched the muscles in her thighs. If the woman had ever been on a horse before, he’d eat saddle leather.

“There you are,” came Stephanie’s accusatory voice.

Jared felt a twinge of satisfaction at the thought of Melissa getting her comeuppance. But then he realized Stephanie was talking to him. He’d obviously missed her jumping practice.

“I gave Melissa a lift,” he explained.

Stephanie looked at Melissa. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I was—”

“Downriver,” Jared quickly put in. “Walking.” The explanation earned him a confused look from Melissa.

Too bad. He’d worry about that one later. For now, he didn’t want to plant any thoughts about the old cabin in Stephanie’s head.

Stephanie looked from Jared to Melissa, then back again. “Well, you missed a no-fault round,” she told him, putting her pert nose in the air.

“I guess you’ll just have to do it again.”

“You think it’s easy?”

“No,” he acknowledged. “I think it’s very, very hard. But I also know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I wish,” Stephanie retorted. But Jared knew it was true. You didn’t become one of the top-ten show jumpers in the country without a strong streak of perfectionism.

He handed Tango’s reins to Melissa. “He’s all yours. When you’re done taking off the tack, put him back in the red-gated pen.”

Melissa glanced down at the leather reins. Then she looked at Jared, her eyes widening with trepidation.

Yeah, he thought so.

He gave a heavy sigh and took back the reins. “Or I could give you a hand,” he offered. “Then you can grab something to eat.”

He felt Stephanie’s curious gaze behind him, and he twisted his head to give her an I-told-you-so stare. If she wanted him to have time to watch her jump, she shouldn’t have hired such a hopeless case.

He wrapped the reins around the horn of his saddle, clipped a lead rope onto Tango’s bridle, then walked the few steps to the hitching rail in front of the stable.

“You can start with the cinch,” he called over his shoulder, and Melissa quickly scrambled into action, hoofing it across the loose-packed dirt of the pen.

Stephanie watched them for a moment longer. Then he saw a small, hopeful smile quirk the corners of her mouth before she turned away.

Great. His good deed was obviously not going to go unpunished. He was helping Melissa out of pity, not out of attraction. She might be a gorgeous woman, but he liked his dates with a little more gray matter and a whole lot more ambition.

She came to a halt a few feet back from Tango’s flank. Her hands curled into balls by her sides, strands of her blond hair fluttering across her flushed cheeks as she blinked at the tall black horse.

“The cinch,” Jared prompted, releasing the reins and gently drawing the bit from Tango’s mouth.

Melissa didn’t make a move.

He flipped the stirrup up and hooked it over the saddle horn. “The big, shiny silver buckle,” he offered sarcastically.

She took a half step forward, then wiped her palms down the front of her jeans.

Jared turned, planting his hands on his hips.

She pursed her lips, reaching her hand toward the buckle. But Tango shifted, and she snapped it back.

“He’s not going to bite you.”

“What if he kicks me?”

“Just don’t do anything sudden.”

“Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better.”

This was getting ridiculous. “You know, you might want to think about another line of work.”

“I was perfectly happy scooping out pens.”

“Nobody’s happy scooping out pens.”

“I was.”

“Well, that’s a dead-end career.” He took a step forward and captured her hand.

She tried to jerk away.

“The trick is,” said Jared in the most soothing voice he could muster, “to let him know what you’re doing.” He urged her reluctant hand toward Tango’s withers. “That way, nobody is surprised.”

“Is ‘surprised’ a euphemism?”

“I mean it literally.”

Tango craned his neck to see what was going on.

“Your touch should be firm,” Jared advised, keeping himself between Melissa and the horse’s head. He gave Tango a warm-up pat with his free hand before placing Melissa’s palm on the horse’s coat. “That way, he knows you have confidence.”

“I don’t have confidence.”

“Sure you do.” He let go of her hand, and she immediately pulled it back from the horse.

Jared drew a frustrated sigh. “I’ve seen five-year-olds with more guts than you.”

She glared at him.

“Lots of them,” he affirmed.

Her glare lasted several seconds longer, but then she squared her shoulders, screwed up her face and turned to the saddle.

“Buckle first,” Jared instructed as her small soft fingers tackled the leather. “Now pull the strap through the rings.”

It took her a minute to get the mohair strap untangled and dangling straight down.

“You want to take the saddle and blanket off together. Grab it front and back. Lift, don’t drag it. Then carry it into the stable. I’ll show you where to put it.”

He stepped back to give her some room.

Tango was sixteen hands, so it was a reach for Melissa to get a firm grip. But she grabbed the saddle, lifted, pulled back, stumbled in the loosely packed dirt and nearly fell over backward.

Jared quickly wrapped his arm around the small of her back, averting disaster. Her waist was small, her body and frame light. No wonder she was such a wimp when it came to physical work.

“You okay?” he asked reflexively.

“Fine.” She firmed up her grip on the heavy saddle and straightened away before he could get used to the feel of her in his arms. But not before he realized how easily he could get used to the feel of her in his arms.

He wondered if she danced. Then for a second he allowed himself to imagine her in a dress. A dress would suit her, something silky and flowing, maybe a bright blue or magenta. Despite her hesitancy in the stable yard, something told him she’d have self-confidence in a different setting.

She all but staggered into the stable, and he was forced to give her points for grit.

“Third rack from the end,” he instructed, following with the reins.

She plunked the saddle down.

“You can clean it after lunch,” he told her.

She nodded, obviously out of breath. Then she dusted off the front of her navy tank top.

“But first we move Tango.”

“Of course we do.” Her tone was sarcastic as she turned to face him.

“You ticked off at me? For helping you?”

She studied his eyes. “No.” But the tone told him she was.

“You can always quit.”

“I’m not going to quit.” Her annoyance was replaced by defiance as she started for the stable door. “Let’s go.”

“You want to lead him from the left,” Jared called after her as he hung up the reins, positive now that she’d never been near a horse before today.

Tango wasn’t intimidating. He was an incredibly well-trained, twelve-year-old saddlebred, solid as a rock and not the least bit flighty or malicious. Any horseman, groom or stable hand would recognize that in an instant.

He came through the doorway to find Melissa sizing up Tango from about five feet away.

“Talk to him,” Jared advised. “Then give him a pat and undo the rope.”

“Is there a trick to it?” she asked, apparently having given up any pretext of knowing what she was doing.

“Which part?”

Over her shoulder, she cut him an impatient glare, and he was forced to tamp down a smile.

“Pull the end.” He demonstrated, tugging the quickrelease knot. Then he handed her the rope. “Stand on this side. Make sure he can see you. Don’t let the rope trail.” Jared got her positioned properly. He didn’t know how much she’d have to work between here and Seattle, but she stood a much better chance of avoiding starvation if she had a clue about what she was doing.

Melissa started walking, and Tango fell in easily beside her. Her face was pinched and pale, and there was clear tension across her slim shoulders as she made her way toward the ranch road, but at least she was making the effort.

A couple of Stephanie’s border collies streaked toward them, obviously assuming there was work to be done. Melissa tensed, and Jared put an arm around her. “They won’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“They look … friendly.” But her voice was slightly higher pitched than normal. “Will they scare Tango?”

“Tango’s bomb-proof.”

The dogs circled the small group a couple of times, then settled in back of Tango’s heels, obviously up for whatever the job might be.

Melissa led the horse in silence down the slight slope of the dirt road, curving east toward the river and a row of horse pens. Stephanie was teaching a junior jumping class in the main arena behind them. The Ryder farrier was working on a yearling with the help of two cowboys who were trying to teach the twitchy colt the proper etiquette for hoof care. Meanwhile, stable hands moved hay, filled water troughs and repaired fences.

There was an endless cycle of work on a horse ranch. When he was in the city, Jared missed the predictable rhythm. In his corporate life, he was putting out one fire after another. He couldn’t plan a single day, never mind a season.

“Did you come to an agreement about Tappee?” she asked as they approached the red-gated pen.

Jared shook his head, increasing his pace to unlatch the gate in front of the horse. “Stephanie voted with me, but Otto sided with Anthony.”

“Otto?”

“Otto Durand.”

Her forehead furrowed as she cautiously led Tango through the gate. “I don’t understand.”

Jared pulled it shut and flipped the latch. “There’s a clip under his chin. Release the lead rope.”

She reached cautiously under the horse’s head. But she found the clip and clicked it free.

Tango instantly reacted to the familiar sound. Knowing he was free, he bolted, spraying clods of dirt at Melissa.

It was all Jared could do not to laugh at the horrified expression on her face.

She sputtered out the dirt while the horse rolled onto his back, relieved to be free of the saddle.

“What don’t you understand?” he asked, instead.

She brushed away her hair and rubbed the back of her hand over her face. “I don’t understand why you had to vote. Aren’t you CEO of Ryder International?”

“This isn’t a Ryder International project.”

“Oh. I thought …”

Jared cracked the gate open to man-size so they could exit the pen. “It’s the Genevieve Fund.”

Melissa raised her brow in a question.

“The Genevieve Ryder Memorial Fund,” Jared explained. “It’s a charitable trust named after my mother.”

“Is your mother …?”

He nodded. “She was killed twenty years ago.”

Her forehead creased. “I’m sorry.”

Jared shrugged, brushing past the sharp stab of conflicting emotions that tightened his chest. “It’s been twenty years.”

Melissa’s green eyes were round and soft. Her voice dropped to a husky level that somehow hit him in the solar plexus. “I’m still sorry.”

They stared at each other in silence, and once again he was struck by the intelligence in her eyes. Only this time, it was laced with compassion. There was something he didn’t understand about this woman, something lurking just beyond his comprehension.

“There are five members of the Genevieve Fund board,” he told her, leaning an arm on a fence rail, forcing the frustrating dilemma from his head.

“Who’s the fifth?” She mirrored his posture.

“My brother, Royce.”

“I take it he gets to break the tie?”

“He’ll be here on Saturday.”

“Does he work on the ranch or with the construction company?”

“Neither. He works for Ryder International, but he’s involved in acquisitions, not in the day-to-day business.”

“So he was the one who found Saxena Electronics?”

And there it was again. “How do you know about Saxena?”

“I told you, Jared.” She smoothed her mussed hair back from her forehead. “I read the newspapers.”

“And you remember obscure facts like that?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s a blessing. Sometimes it’s a curse.”

“Ever heard of Bosoniga?”

“Little country in West Africa.” She grinned, revealing flashing white teeth. “Is this a quiz?”

“We’re building a school there.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “Good choice. The monarchy is stable, so poverty and infrastructure will be your only problems.”

He lifted his hand, then brought it down again on the rough wood of the fence, struggling to make Melissa’s lifestyle add up in his head. “Why don’t you have a real job?”

“Define a real job.”

“An office, where’d you put that brain of yours to work from nine to five.”

“I don’t think they’d let me wander across the country.”

“How long have you been wandering across the country?”

Her mouth tightened imperceptibly, and something flashed in the depths of her eyes. Fear? Pain? He was reminded once again that she could be running from something or someone.

But then the look was gone.

“Not long,” she answered. “Do you think Royce will side with his family or with Anthony and Otto?”

“Anthony is our cousin.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Royce is a risk taker. He’ll offer to fly down to Tappee himself.”

“He’s a pilot?”

Jared choked out a laugh. “He’s definitely a pilot. I think he likes flying around the world more than he likes investigating companies.”

“Can I meet him when he gets here?”

Jared tensed. A chill hit his body, and a warning sparked in his brain. “Why?”

She drew back, obviously reacting to his expression.

“You planning to flirt with him?” Jarred pressed. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He didn’t know anything about this woman.

She emphatically shook her head. “He likes to travel. I like to travel.” Her words came faster. “I was thinking you could be right. Maybe I should find a real job and save up some money. I mean, seeing America is fun and all, but it might be fun to see some of the rest of the world—”

“In my brother’s jet?”

“No. No.” She smoothed her hair back again. “I’m not going to flirt with your brother. I just thought …”

Jared waited. He truly did want to know what she thought.

She let go of the fence rail and took a step forward. “I thought he might be a lot like you. Smart and interesting.”

He stared down as she moved closer. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” But what he really couldn’t believe was that it was working. She was flirting with him, using her pretty face and killer body to gain an advantage. And it was working.

He was pathetic.

“You misunderstood,” she told him in a soft voice. “I have no designs on Royce. I don’t even know Royce. And if my mission was to land myself a rich man, do you think I’d be scooping horse poop on a ranch in Montana? No offense, Jared, but Manhattan is a whole lot closer to Gary, and their per capita count of rich eligible men is pretty darn high.”

Jared watched her soft lips as they formed words, took in her feathery hair lifting in the light breeze, her bottomless green eyes, almost a turquoise, like the newly melted water of a glacial lake. She was stunningly gorgeous and intriguingly intelligent.

“So how stupid do you think I am?” Her voice dropped off into silence. The thuds of Tango’s footfalls echoed around them.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Jared admitted. “That’s the problem.”

Melissa had overplayed her hand.

Sitting at the end of a long table in the quiet cookhouse, spooning her way through a flavorful soup, she knew she’d made Jared suspicious. She should never have asked to meet Royce. And she should have been content to let him think she was slow-witted.

Her enthusiasm for getting the story, along with her stupid ego, had both gotten in the way. She’d just had to show off her knowledge of Bosoniga and Tappee. Like some schoolkid trying to impress the teacher. “Bosoniga has a stable monarchy,” she mocked under her breath. Why didn’t she just wave her university degree under his nose and challenge him to guess why she was out on the road playing vagabond?

She dropped the spoon into her soup.

Was she trying to sabotage the story?

“Melissa?” Someone slid into the chair next to her, and Melissa looked over to see Stephanie set a white stonewear cup on the table.

At two in the afternoon, the cookhouse had grown quiet. Faint voices could be heard from the pass-through to the kitchen. Coffee, biscuits and oatmeal cookies were still available on the sideboard in case anyone needed a snack. And a helper was setting the three empty tables for dinner.

“Hello,” Melissa greeted Stephanie politely.

The younger woman’s auburn hair was pulled back in her signature ponytail. She’d removed her riding helmet, but still wore the white blouse, tight jodhpurs and high boots that were the uniform of a show jumper.

Stephanie grinned happily. There was a freshness about her, Melissa thought. Maybe it was the freckles or maybe it was the complete lack of cosmetics. Or it could have been the perky upturned nose. But Stephanie looked young, carefree, almost mischievous.

“I saw Jared helping you with Tango,” she began, her expression friendly and open as she turned the cup handle to face the right direction.

Melissa nodded, even while her stomach tightened with guilt. She couldn’t help but like Stephanie, and she was sorry the woman was caught up in her charade.

“It was very nice of him,” Melissa acknowledged. Then she paused, choosing her words carefully. “My horse skills are …” She let out a sigh, feeling like a heel for lying to Stephanie in the first place. “I guess, I, uh, exaggerated my skill level when I first talked to you.” She cringed, waiting for the reaction.

But to her surprise, Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.”

Melissa gazed at her. “But—”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to shovel manure.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah.” Stephanie lifted the stonewear mug and took a sip of the steaming coffee. “I imagine people exaggerate on their résumés all the time.”

“I guess they do,” Melissa agreed, relieved—yet again—that she wasn’t about to get fired.

“So what do you think of him?”

“Tango?” Was Stephanie going to try to get her to ride the horse?

“No, Jared.”

“Oh.” Melissa caught the speculative expression in Stephanie’s eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

This could not be good.

“He seems, well, nice enough,” Melissa offered carefully. Truth was, she thought Jared was demanding and sarcastic. Okay, in an intriguing, compelling, sexy kind of way.

Stephanie nodded cheerily. “He’s a great guy. Lots of women seem attracted to him. I mean, it’s hard for me to tell, being his sister, but I imagine he’s pretty hot.”

Melissa turned her attention back to her soup. “He’s a very attractive man.”

“You should have seen the woman he dated last weekend. They had their picture in the paper in Chicago. She was a knockout. A lawyer.”

Melissa spooned up a bit of soup. She was not going to be jealous of some smart knockout lawyer in Chicago. Who Jared dated was absolutely none of her business.

“I told him he should see her again. But he’s not interested.” Stephanie gave a shrug. “So, really, he’s not committed in any way, shape or form.”

Melissa fought a smile. Again, there was an endearing quality to Stephanie. She was probably only four or five years younger than Melissa, but she seemed so innocent and untarnished. Maybe it was from living in the protected world of rural Montana.

“Honestly, Stephanie, I think I frustrate your brother.”

Stephanie shook her head. “We can change that.”

“I’m only here for a few days, remember?” The last thing Melissa needed was for Stephanie to give Jared a reason to avoid her. And she sensed that was exactly what would happen if he guessed his sister’s intentions.

“He thinks you’re pretty.”

The assertion took Melissa by surprise.

“He told me,” Stephanie continued. “The first time he saw you.”

“This is a bad idea, Stephanie. Jared and I are from completely different worlds.” And she was spying on him. And he was going to despise her in about three weeks when the article hit the newsstands.

“So were my parents.”

“Stephanie, really.”

“My dad was a rancher, and my mom grew up in Boston.”

Melissa knew this was exactly the point where she should press Stephanie for some information. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“My mom was gorgeous and classy. Blonde, like you.” Stephanie sighed. “I wish I looked more like her.”

“But you’re beautiful,” Melissa immediately put in, meaning it completely.

Stephanie wrinkled her little nose. “I have freckles and red hair. And, you know, I haven’t bought myself a dress in three years.”

“Well, that’s easy to fix.”

“I bet you own a lot of beautiful dresses.” The speculative look was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

“Very few,” said Melissa. She pinned Stephanie with an earnest expression. “Promise me you won’t do this, Stephanie.”

Stephanie reached out to grasp Melissa’s forearm, taking a careful look around the room. “I can be very discreet.”

Given the woman’s exaggerated spy-versus-spy room check, Melissa sincerely doubted that.

“I’ll chat you up a bit,” Stephanie continued. “You are gorgeous, and I can—”

“Jared is not, I repeat, not interested in me. You’ll only embarrass us both if you try to match us up.”

Stephanie took another sip of her coffee, a dreamy faraway expression in her eyes. “I promise, Melissa. I won’t do a single thing to embarrass you.”

Five

Melissa had waited all morning for a chance to privately warn Jared about Stephanie’s matchmaking plans. She could hardly walk up to the front door of Stephanie’s house and knock. And Jared, as far as she could tell, hadn’t come out of the house.

Standing over a tub of water in the tack room, she had a decent view of the front porch. Her hands were red and slippery from the glycerin soap, but at least the job was straightforward: wash the tack, dry the tack, polish the tack. She’d worked her way through a decent-size pile of leather.

When lunchtime came along without a sign of Jared, she started to worry. If Stephanie was already matchmaking, he was probably plotting his escape from the equestrian center. If she didn’t do something soon, there was every possibility that he’d leave before she got anything more for her story.

She had to find a way to get hold of him.

She clicked through the possibilities in her brain until finally she came up with a viable plan. If she could somehow get her hands on his cell number, she could talk to him without Stephanie knowing.

She pulled her hands from the warm water, shook them off and dried them on a towel. Her cell phone was in her taupe canvas tote bag, and it didn’t take her long to get directory assistance and the Chicago number for Ryder International. The receptionist put her through to Jared’s assistant.

“Jared Ryder’s office,” said a friendly female voice.

“I need to speak to Jared Ryder,” Melissa opened, hoping the office would give her his cell phone number.

“I’m afraid Mr. Ryder is not in the office today.” The voice remained friendly and professional. “Can I help you with something?”

“Do you happen to have his cell phone number?” Melissa mentally crossed her fingers that the woman would be willing to give it out.

“I’m afraid I can’t provide that information. Is there someone else who can—”

“Would you be able to get a message to him?” Melissa moved to plan B.

Some of the patience leached out of the woman’s voice. “Can I get your name, please?”

“So you can get him a message?” Melissa’s hope rose.

“He may not get it until next week.”

“I need him to get it today. Right away if possible.”

“If I could just have your name.”

“It’s Melissa. Melissa Webster.” She used the alias she’d used on her résumé.

“And what is the message regarding?”

Good question. Melissa racked her brain. She sure couldn’t say she was a reporter, but if the subject didn’t seem important, the secretary might not send it to Jared right away. “Saxena Electronics,” she offered impulsively.

“You’re from Saxena?” The skepticism was clear.

Melissa could only assume most Saxena employees had East Indian accents. “I’m affiliated with them,” she lied. “The message is that Melissa Webster needs to talk about Saxena right away. In private,” she added, ending with her cell phone number.

“I’m not sure—”

“Please believe me that it’s important,” Melissa put in quickly.

The woman hesitated on the other end of the line.

“There’s no risk,” Melissa pointed out. “If it’s not important, he’ll just ignore it, right?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Maybe a quick text or an e-mail?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The voice had turned stony.

It was definitely time to back off. “Thank you,” said Melissa with as much gratitude as she could muster. “I really do appreciate this.”

The professionalism and the formality came back. “Thank you for calling Ryder International.”

“Thanks for your help,” Melissa offered once more before hanging up.

Then she plunked her phone back in her bag, readjusted the clip that was holding her hair back and pulled her damp tank top away from her chest. She hated to go to lunch looking like this, but it was a long walk back to her cottage, and there was no way she could skip the meal.

As the days went by, her respect for cowboys and stable hands had risen. They worked extremely hard. A salad or a protein shake might cut it in an office, but out here, calories were essential.

She dried the last of the washed tack, laying it out on the bench to be polished later. Then she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder and headed for the cookhouse while she waited to see if Jared would call.

A couple of steps out the stable door, Jared startled her, blocking her way. She stopped short.

“What the hell?” he demanded.

She glanced around. “Is Stephanie with you?”

“What was this about seeing me in private?”

She didn’t see Stephanie anywhere. “I’ll explain in a minute. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Jared hesitated. Then he nodded at the stable. “There’s an office up those stairs.”

“Great.” Melissa turned, and he followed her in.

They tapped their way, single file, up the narrow staircase. It opened to a short hallway with three doors.

“Far end,” Jared rumbled. “And this better be good. My secretary was scrambling the Saxena team for damage control. She thought you were warning me of a hostile takeover.”

Melissa cringed. “Sorry. Did you call them off?”

“Of course I called them off.” His boots were heavy on the wood floor behind her. “This better not be some flirting thing.”

“It’s not flirting.” Melissa stopped at the closed door.

Jared reached around her and pushed it open to reveal a small desk, a couple of filing cabinets. Three open, curtained windows showed a cloud-laden sky, and a comfortably furnished corner with armchairs, low tables and lamps. Through the window, Melissa could see a crowd of people at the arena. She assumed it was a jumping class and that Stephanie was there.

“Take a seat.” Jared gestured to a worn, brown leather armchair.

Melissa sat down, and he took the chair next to it. They were separated by a polished pine table, decorated with three small, framed horse portraits.

He leaned back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and folding his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked directly.

Melissa took a deep breath, giving herself a second to compose her message. “It’s Stephanie.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“She lost patience with you? Fired you?”

“No.” Melissa sat forward. “Will you let me finish?”

He waited.

“Your sister, for some reason, has decided I’m … well, a good match for you.”

Jared planted his feet and sat forward. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. This is about her, not me. I was minding my own business. She saw you helping me yesterday. Apparently the first time you saw me you said I was pretty.”

“I never—”

“Well, Stephanie thinks you did. And she’s a determined and romantic young lady, and she thinks she can subtly throw us together without you noticing. I was guessing you’d catch on, and I thought you’d appreciate a heads-up.”

Jared’s mouth thinned into a grim line. His hands moved to the arms of the chair, and he gave his head a subtle shake. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Melissa waited for him to elaborate.

He fixed his gaze on her. “If she’s targeting you, things are really getting out of hand.”

“Excuse me?” Melissa couldn’t help the defensive tone in her voice. “I’m the bottom of the barrel?”

“No, you’re not the bottom of the barrel.” He paused. “But you’re definitely from the unlikely half of the barrel.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“The last person she targeted was a lawyer.”

Melissa nodded. “She told me.”

“Just how long was this conversation?”

“Not long.” Melissa shifted back in her chair. “For the record, I tried to talk her out of it.”

Jared’s expression turned thoughtful, and he glanced toward the window and out to the arena. “Did she seem.upset?”

Melissa shook her head. Stephanie hadn’t seemed remotely upset. “I’d call it enthusiastic, even excited.”

He stood up and walked toward the closest window, looking through the opening to the crowd in the distance. “It’s about Sunday.”

Melissa stood with him. The clouds were thickening in the sky and the wind was picking up.

“It’s got to be,” he continued.

“What about Sunday?” she dared to ask.

Jared kept his gaze glued outside. “The twentieth anniversary of our parents’ deaths. And the first time my grandfather won’t be here to commemorate it with us.”

Melissa took a few steps toward him. “Your grandfather died?”

Jared nodded. “In April. It hit Stephanie pretty hard.”

“I can imagine,” Melissa said softly, her sympathy going out to the whole family.

“Look at her jump.” Jared nodded toward the arena, and Melissa shifted closer to where she could watch Stephanie on her big gray horse.

“Perfect form,” he continued as the two sailed over a high, white jump rail. “She’s talented, driven, unbelievably hardworking. Only twenty-two, and she’ll be a champion before we know it.”

“Then she was only two when your parents died?” Melissa ventured.

“Only two,” Jared confirmed with a nod, and his voice turned introspective. “And despite her success, all these years all she ever wanted was a mother.”

Melissa didn’t know what to say to that. Her own parents had moved to Florida only a couple of years ago. She saw them every few months, but she still missed her mother.

“I don’t blame her,” she offered.

“I understand the desire,” Jared allowed. “But ever since she was old enough to understand, she’s pestered the three of us to get married. Poor Gramps. And poor Royce. He was afraid to bring a date home in high school for fear of how Stephanie would embarrass him. She goes into matchmaking mode at the drop of a hat.”

“You could get married, you know,” Melissa offered reasonably, only half joking. “You’re what, early thirties?”

“Thirty-five.”

“So what’s the holdup? I bet you meet eligible women every day of the week.”

Jared frowned at her. “I’m not getting married for the sake of my sister.”

“Get married for yourself. Hey, if you get proactive, you’ll have your choice of women. If Stephanie gets her way, you’re stuck with me.”

It obviously took Jared a stunned minute to realize Melissa was joking. But then he visibly relaxed.

“What about you?” he asked. “Would you get married to keep your siblings happy?”

Melissa coughed out a laugh. “I have five older brothers. Trust me, no husband in the world will be good enough.”

“Would they scare a guy off?”

Melissa smiled at that. “They range from six-one to six-four. All tough as nails. Adam’s a roofer, Ben and Caleb are framers, Dan’s an electrician and Eddy’s a pipe fitter.”

A calculating look came into Jared’s eyes. “You think they’d be interested in jobs with Ryder International?”

“I’m afraid they’re all gainfully employed.”

His eyes squinted down as he stared at her, and she braced herself for sarcasm about her own dismal career status. It was going to be hard not to defend herself from his criticism.

“Might be worth marrying you for the union connections alone.”

The words surprised a laugh out of her. She played along. “Plus, Stephanie would have a mother.” She played along. “Well, more like a sister, really. I’m only four or five years older than she is, you know.”

“Not a bad plan.” Jared nodded and pretended to give it serious consideration. “Stephanie’s pretty convinced the family would benefit from a few more females in the mix.”

“Smart girl,” said Melissa.

“Can’t argue with the logic,” Jared agreed. “It’s her methods that cause the trouble.”

As they spoke, Stephanie sailed over her final jump, completing a clean round.

“She really is good,” said Melissa.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Jared turned from the window.

He paused, and they came face-to-face, closer than she’d realized. Sunlight streamed in, highlighting his gorgeous eyes, his strong chin, his straight nose and the short shock of brown hair that curled across his forehead.

The force of his raw magnetism drew her in, arousing and frightening her at the same time. He was all man. He had power, looks and intelligence, and she suddenly felt inadequate. She wasn’t ready to work at his ranch or write an article about him. The phrase out of my league planted itself firmly in her brain.

For a second she let herself fear his reaction to the article. But then she banished the fear. It was her job to get the story, and she’d be far away from Montana by the time it ran in the Bizz.

The world outside darkened, and his eyes turned to midnight, sensuality radiating from their depths. The humidity jumped up, only to be overtaken by a freshening breeze.

There were shouts from outside as the wind swirled and a storm threatened. Doors banged, horses whinnied, and plastic tarps rattled against their ropes.

Meanwhile, gazes locked, Jared and Melissa didn’t move.

The wild clamor outside matched the cacophony inside her head. This attraction felt so right, but it was so incredibly wrong. Jared was her article subject, her employer, one of the most powerful entrepreneurs in Chicago. She had absolutely no business being attracted to him.

He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her temple. His touch was electric, arousing, light as a feather but shocking as a lightning bolt.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the first fat raindrops clattered on the roof.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he told her.

She drew a breath. “You think that’s a good idea?”

He moved slightly closer. “It’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” He stroked his thumb along her jaw, tipped her chin. “But probably not the stupidest, either. Might not even make the top three.”

“What were they?” she asked.

“The stupidest things?”

She gave a slight nod.

“I don’t think I’ll be telling you that right now.”

“Maybe later?”

“I doubt it.” Done talking, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips to hers.

It was a gentle kiss, a tentative kiss. There was a wealth of respect and more than a couple of questions contained in the kiss.

She answered by softening her lips. One of her hands went to his shoulder, steadying herself, she lied. Truth was, she wanted to hang on, press closer, turn his inquiry into a genuine kiss.

He easily complied, stepping forward, parting his lips, one hand going to the small of her back, the other tunneling into the hair behind her ear. He tipped his head, deepened the kiss; she plastered herself flush against him, feeling the hard heat of his body, counterpoint to the wind and rain that rushed in through the open window.

Warning sirens clanged inside her head.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

She was supposed to maintain a journalistic detachment. Plus, hadn’t she come up here to warn him about Stephanie? Not to flirt. Or worse, seduce. What on earth was she thinking?

He broke the kiss, but moved instantly into another. Melissa didn’t have time to decide if she was relieved or upset before she was dragged away on another tidal wave of desire.

The world disappeared—the horses, the people, the wind and rain. Nothing existed except Jared’s kiss, the rough texture of his hands, the heat of his hard body and the fresh, earthy, male scent that surrounded her and drew her into an alternative universe.

His thumb found the strip of skin between her tank top and blue jeans. He stroked up her spine, sending shivers of reaction skittering both ways. His hand slipped under her shirt, warm palm caressing the sensitized skin, working higher, closing in on the scrap of her bra.

His tongue touched hers, tentatively at first, but then bolder as she responded, opening to him, tipping her head to give him better access to her mouth. His hand caressed the back of her head. Her arms tightened around his neck. She went up on her toes, struggling to get closer.

A clap of thunder boomed through the sky, rumbling the building, lightning dancing in the clouds rapidly engulfed the ranch. The rain grew steady, blurring the world, cooling the air and clattering like a freight train against the cedar shakes above them.

Jared pulled her tighter still, leaving her in no doubt about the effect the kiss was having on him. It was having the same effect on her. It was wild, untamed, sexy and all but unstoppable.

He shifted, moving her away from the open window and the driving rain that was dampening their clothes. He backed her into the wall, and his leg slipped between hers. The friction sent a shot of desire through her body, and a moan found its way past her mouth.

Jared whispered her name, his kisses moving from her mouth to her cheek, her temple and neck. He moved aside the strap of her tank top, the thinner strap of her bra, kissing his way to her shoulder, where his warm tongue lingered, laving the sensitive skin.

Her legs grew weak, and she braced herself against the wall, clinging to Jared’s strong shoulders, even as she kissed his chest through the damp cotton of his shirt. He’d crooked his knee, and she rested the core of her body against his strong thigh. A pulse throbbed through her veins, and there was no mistaking where she wanted this to lead.

“We have to stop,” she forced herself to gasp.

His lips paused mid-kiss on her bare shoulder. “I’m not sure why,” he breathed. He straightened, bracing his hands against the wall, arms on either side of her, gazing down with passion-clouded eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

She was all but shaking with reaction, afraid to move for fear she’d throw caution to the wind and lose herself in his arms. “This is nuts,” she told him, struggling to bring her voice back to normal, forcing herself to drag her hands from his shoulders.

His thigh was still braced between hers, still pressed intimately against her body, still drawing a completely inappropriate reaction from her.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she nearly wailed. What had happened? Why had they combusted like that? They barely knew each other.

“I mean, why is it nuts?”

“Because …” She struggled over the question, not finding a satisfactory answer. At least, not one that she could share with him. “It’s you, and it’s me. And we’re …” She couldn’t find the words.

“Attracted to each other?” he finished for her.

“Apparently,” she responded dryly.

He let his thigh fall away, and she nearly groaned with the sensation.

“Stephanie would be pleased,” he pointed out.

Melissa’s gaze darted to the window, suddenly wondering who had seen what before they moved away. What if Stephanie had seen them?

“Nobody saw a thing,” said Jared, guessing her concern. “They were too busy running from the storm.”

The rain had turned to a steady drum, while thunder and lightning punctuated the darkened sky. The yard was empty, everyone having taken shelter in one of the buildings. Horses were huddled in small groups, most of them under run-in shelters, some in the larger pens moving into the shelter of the trees. Tarps still billowed, cracking and snapping in the wind.

Jared gently stroked his thumb across her swollen bottom lip, making her desire flare all over again. “Our secret is safe.”

She gazed into his eyes, unable to hide her renewed longing. And try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

His eyes darkened further and his voice went husky. “You want to make it an even bigger secret?”

Six

Before Melissa could even open her mouth, Jared knew to retract the question.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly told her. “That was way out of line.”

He was her boss. Just yesterday he’d threatened to fire her, more than once, if memory served. He had absolutely no business propositioning her. It was unprincipled, immoral, probably illegal in most states.

“It wasn’t—”

“It was.” He forced himself back, hands tightening by his sides as he put some distance between them. The torrential rain was still dripping through the open windows, and he slammed one window shut, then the next and finally the third, taking some of his frustration out on the inanimate objects. He’d never felt this way before, never desired a woman so quickly and thoroughly. Yet he was wrong to feel this way, and he had to make it stop.

“Jared?” Her voice was tentative, and he felt like a complete jerk.

He latched the final window, then turned back to face her. Her hair was wet, messy from his hands. The damp blue tank top clung to her breasts, highlighting her nipples. Her eyes were round, sea-foam green and confused.

“I’m mad at myself,” he assured her. “Not at you.”

She took a step forward. “It was my fault, too. How about we forget it happened?”

“Can you forget it happened?” He’d give it a shot, but he wasn’t holding out much hope.

“Sure.” She nodded, offering a small smile. “Easy.”

She seemed sincere, and he tried not to be offended. Maybe he’d imagined their explosive passion. Maybe to her it had been a simple ordinary kiss. He gave himself a split second to ponder exactly who the hell else she’d been kissing like that, but then he acknowledged that it was none of his business.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. “Sure,” he forced out, adjusting his damp shirt and raking his fingers through his hair. “We’ll just forget it ever happened.”

Melissa glanced down and plucked at her own wet shirt. Then she quickly folded her arms across her breasts. Just as well, Jared told himself. Her clinging clothes were turning him on. So were her swollen lips and messy hair.

“You have a comb?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s in my bag downstairs.”

He realized they couldn’t risk leaving the room with her looking like this, so he steeled himself against the inevitable reaction and moved toward her.

Her arms stayed protectively crossed over her breasts, so he reached for the hair clip. “I’ll just …” He raked spread fingers through the mess, straightening out the worst of it, wondering how he’d ever manage to get the clip back in.

A voice called from the hallway. “Jared?” The door burst open, and Stephanie instantly appeared.

He and Melissa both jumped guiltily back, her covering her breasts, him holding her hair clip.

Stephanie stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry.” But she didn’t look sorry in the least. A broad grin grew on her face and her eyes sparkled in delight.

Barry Salmon and Hal Norris halted behind her. All three of them stared at the incriminating scene.

Jared inwardly groaned. Why the hell hadn’t he kept his hands to himself? Melissa’s reputation was about to tumble over the falls and be washed down the Windy River. Why the hell hadn’t he kept his hands to himself?

She was the first to speak. “It’s not what you—”

But he cut her off. “I was inviting Melissa to join us for dinner,” he told Stephanie, giving the two cowboys a warning glare.

“I knew it!” Stephanie beamed.

“The rain blew right in the windows,” he went on, to explain their appearance. Then he handed Melissa the hair clip. “Thanks for your help.”

She gave him a puzzled expression. “There’s no need—”

He stopped her with a stare. There was every need to protect her reputation, not to mention his own. She’d be gone in a week. In the meantime, he’d rather have the ranch staff think they were dating than carrying on a clandestine affair in the stable office.

He turned to his sister. “Did you need me for something?”

“Royce just called,” said Stephanie. “He’s at the airport.”

“A day early?” That surprised Jared. He hoped nothing was wrong.

“And McQuestin called,” Hal put in. “Some of the herd’s still in the south canyon, and there’s a risk of flooding down there.”

“Hal and Barry are going to take half a dozen men,” said Stephanie, but her goofy gaze was still on Melissa.

Jared knew he’d have to deal with his sister’s letdown later. But at the moment, seeing the pure joy on Stephanie’s face, he was inclined to wait until they got through the graveside visit on Sunday. He wondered if Melissa would be willing to go along with the charade. It would definitely distract Stephanie from missing their grandfather.

“Do you need me?” Jared asked Hal. He hadn’t played cowboy in a few years, but he was ready and able if they needed an extra hand.

Hal shook his graying head. “Should be done by dark.”

Jared gave the man a nod of acknowledgment. Then he looked at Stephanie. “I’ll be right down.”

She all but winked in return as she pulled the door shut.

“What are you thinking? “ Melissa demanded as the footsteps receded down the hall.

“That you cared about your reputation.” He stated the obvious.

“This isn’t 1950.”

“It’s also not Vegas. It’s Montana.”

“People don’t kiss in Montana?”

“They didn’t know we were just kissing.”

“But …” Melissa took a step back.

“Your lips,” he told her softly. “Your hair, your clothes. You look like you just tumbled out of a haystack.”

“But we didn’t do anything.”

“We thought about it,” he told her gruffly. “And it shows.”

Her glance went down to her chest. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Melissa swiftly pulled her hair to the base of her neck and fastened it with the clip. “What about Stephanie? You know what she’s going to think.”

Jared nodded. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Melissa raised her brows.

“Would you mind playing along for a few days? Have dinner with us, pretend you like me, just enough to make Stephanie think there’s a possibility we’ll fall for each other.”

Melissa seemed genuinely astonished. “Why? Why would you do that to your own sister?”

“You saw how excited she was,” Jared pointed out.

“Yes. And I know how disappointed she’s going to be when she finds out the truth. Not to mention how ticked off she’s going to be at you.”

“Who says she has to find out?”

“I’m leaving in a few days.”

“That’s perfect,” he said. “It’ll get us through Sunday. Then we’ll act like it didn’t work out. She’ll be disappointed, sure. But she’ll also be past the hard part of commemorating our parents’ deaths and remembering how much she misses her grandfather.”

“I don’t think you can postpone grieving.”

“Sure, you can.” You could postpone it. You could ignore it. And you could replace it. With, for example, anger.

Melissa shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Then, he’d simply have to make her comfortable with it. “How much are we paying you?”

“Minimum wage, why?”

“I’ll double it.”

“You want me to ignore my principles and fake being your girlfriend for two times minimum wage?”

“Triple.”

“Jared.”

“Name your price.”

“It’s not about money. It’s about integrity.” For some reason her voice trailed away on the final word. Her gaze focused on the window as she watched the rain streak down the pane of glass. “Do you really think it’s best for her?”

“I do.” He moved up behind her. He couldn’t help but admire Melissa’s decision-making process. “Do you think you could pretend to like me?”

He saw her smile in the blurry reflection of the window. “I’m a pretty good liar.”

“Good to know.” He restrained himself from resting his hands on her shoulders, even though he longed to touch her again.

She turned, and his desire ramped up. “What do you want me to do?”

Jared bit his tongue over the loaded question, but his expression obviously gave him away.

“You.” She poked him squarely in the chest. “Have to promise to behave yourself.”

“I will. If you tell me what that means.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It means …” She seemed to stumble. “It means not looking at me like you’re the big bad wolf and I’m carrying a basket of goodies.”

“It’ll probably help the charade,” he reasoned.

“It’ll make me jumpy.”

“It should,” was his blunt answer.

“Jared,” she warned.

“I’ll behave myself,” he promised. “But it’ll help if you do a couple of things for me.”

“What?”

“Wear a gunnysack, and a veil, don’t talk in that sexy voice and, for the love of God, quit smelling so decadently delicious.”

Back inside her cottage, Melissa was all but shaking with reaction to Jared’s words. And to his kisses. And to the overwhelming opportunity he’d unknowingly handed to her.

She was having dinner with his family. Dinner with the Ryders—a private meal where she could ask as many questions as she liked, about growing up, their ranch, their charity trust, their businesses.

She already knew the article would show them in a positive light. Both Jared and Stephanie were hardworking, successful people. The fact that they commemorated their parents’ deaths was admirable, and their grandfather’s recent death would add a poignancy that readers would lap up like kittens with fresh cream.

She lowered herself into the armchair beside the cottage window, struggling to frame her thoughts. It was Friday today. She’d planned to give herself one more day, maybe two at the most, to gather facts at the ranch. Then she’d have to rush back to Chicago and write the article in time to have it sitting on Seth Strickland’s desk for Monday morning.

But that timetable was out the window now. Her greatest interview opportunities would be in the next couple of days. Which meant there was no way to be ready Monday morning. Which meant she’d have to call Seth and confess.

She drew a breath, squeezing the fabric-covered arms of the chair as she tried to still her racing heart. She could only hope her editor’s excitement over the article would overrule his anger that she’d lied to him.

She glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. That made it three in Chicago. No time to lose. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, pressing the buttons for his number. It rang three times, but then jumped to voice mail, giving her no choice but to leave a quick, vague message.

She replaced the phone in her bag when, over the sound of the continuing rain, she heard footsteps on the front porch. She glanced through the window to see Stephanie, a dripping white Stetson pulled low on her head, waving cheerily through the pane.

Melissa sighed inwardly. She wasn’t ready for this. Being undercover to get a story was one thing, but leading Stephanie on was another thing entirely.

But Stephanie had seen her, and Melissa had no choice but to open the door. She crossed to the little foyer.

“Hi,” said Stephanie, beaming as she entered the cottage.

Melissa couldn’t help but smile in return. The young woman’s grin was infectious.

“I told you so,” Stephanie sang, hanging her hat on one of a long row of pegs on the wooden wall.

The entry area of the cottage was practically laid out. There were pegs for coats and hats. A small bench beneath, with room for footwear under it, and a bright, woven Navajo rug decorating the wooden floor.

The foyer took up one corner of the small living room. The rest of the room boasted a simple burgundy couch, a leather armchair, a small television and two low tables with ivory lamps.

There was a compact kitchen beside the living room, a table and two kitchen chairs under the front window, and a door to a bedroom/bathroom combination on the far side. Melissa had to admit, she adored the brass bed and the claw-foot tub. And the oak tree outside the bedroom window rustled in the night breeze, while the muted roar of the river outside filled in the background.

Melissa took a step back to stay out of the way of Stephanie’s wet raincoat. Not that she wouldn’t have to change clothes, anyway. Standing in front of the open window with Jared had been … well, it had been amazing, of course. But mostly it had been foolish. And not just because she’d ended up with wet clothes.

Stephanie kicked off her boots. “Do you know how long it’s been since Jared invited a woman home for dinner?”

Melissa knew she needed to dial Stephanie’s excitement level way down. “He didn’t exactly—”

“Never,” sang Stephanie. “He’s never invited a woman home for dinner.”

“Your equestrian center is not his actual home,” cautioned Melissa. “And I was already here.”

Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Technicalities.”

“No. Facts.”

Stephanie pouted.

“Seriously, Stephanie. You can’t get carried away with this. Jared and I barely know each other.”

Stephanie heaved an exaggerated sigh, dropping down onto the couch. “Are you always this much of a downer?”

Melissa took the armchair again. “I’m always this much of a realist.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“It saves a lot of heartache in the long run.”

“Disappointment, I can handle. It’s never leaving the starting gate that would kill me.”

Inwardly, Melissa conceded there was some logic to the argument. “It’s only dinner,” she said to Stephanie. “And I’m still planning to leave in a couple of days.”

“But you’re here now,” said Stephanie with a sly wink. “What are you going to wear?”

Melissa’s cell phone jangled from her bag on the floor.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” she said, knowing in her heart the call was from Seth. There was no way in the world she could answer it in front of Stephanie.

It rang again.

“Do you want to get that?”

Melissa shook her head. “It can go to voice mail.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

Another shrill ring.

“I’m sure. What do you think I should wear?” Truth was, Melissa hadn’t seen anyone wear anything but blue jeans and riding clothes since she’d arrived. Her own wardrobe was plain and meager, since she was pretending to be on a bus trip.

The damn phone rang again.

“You sure you don’t want to—”

“Completely sure.” Melissa reached for the slim phone. A quick glance told her it was, indeed, her boss. She sent the call to voice mail. “There.”

Stephanie paused for a moment. Then her expression grew animated once again as she sat forward. “I was thinking, since it’s Royce’s first night back, we should dress up a little.”

Melissa’s attention went automatically to the downpour and the rivulets of mud streaking the narrow cottage road. Even if she had brought anything dressy, it was a virtual mud bog between the cottage and Stephanie’s house.

“We’ll do it up at the house,” Stephanie went on. “We’re about the same size. You can take a shower up there. We’ll play around with your hair. Put on a little makeup, and you can borrow one of my dresses. I have a bunch I’ve never even worn.”

“I’m not Cinderella,” Melissa admonished.

“Oh—” Stephanie all but jumped up from the sofa “—that makes me the fairy godmother.”

“Did you miss the word not?“ Melissa struggled to keep a grip on the conversation.

“This is going to be great.”

Still in Melissa’s hand, the phone rang again. It was Seth. She hit the voice mail button one more time. She was going to have one heck of a lot of explaining to do. Good thing she would have a kick-ass story to offer up.

“Girl talk while we get ready.” Stephanie laughed.

Melissa paused.

Girl talk? Girl talk.

Why was she trying to get out of this? Girl talk was exactly what she needed for research.

“I’ll meet you up there,” she agreed. A quick call to Seth, and she’d be ready for all the girl talk in the world.

“Don’t be silly.” This time Stephanie did jump up. “You’d drown. I’ll drive you over in the truck.”

Stephanie’s house was rustic but undeniably gracious. A large, practical foyer led into a massive great room with polished floors, a high, hewn-beam ceiling, and overstuffed leather furniture decorated with colorful pillows and woven throws. There was a huge stone fireplace at one end of the rectangular room, and a row of glass doors down the side opened onto a deck that overlooked evergreens and snowy mountain peaks. A wide passageway opposite revealed a gourmet kitchen with a long, polished-wood breakfast bar and padded stools and a formal dining room that seated twelve, with a wood-and-brass chandelier and an impressive woven carpet under the cherry table and wine-colored armchairs.

As they made their way up a wide staircase to the second floor, Melissa wished once again for Susan and her camera. Stephanie’s bedroom was at the front of the house. It had its own small balcony, a walk-in closet, an en suite bath and a small sitting area set in a bay-window alcove.

“Dresses are way in the back,” said Stephanie, flicking on the closet light and gesturing into the long room. “Pick anything you want. I’ll hunt through the bathroom and see what I can find for makeup.”

“What are you planning to wear?” Melissa gazed through the open door at rows of blazers and blouses, situated above open shelves that held blue jeans and jodhpurs. She stepped over several pairs of polished boots as she made her way across the carpeted floor.

Stephanie hadn’t been exaggerating. There were at least two dozen dresses, most with the tags still on. They were black, gold, red, sleeveless, gauzy, and one gorgeous printed silk that shimmered gold and peach, with a jeweled scoop neckline that looked like something off a Paris runway.

“Try that one,” came Stephanie’s voice from the doorway.

Melissa shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Royce brought it back from Europe last year. The straps are too narrow for me. It makes me look like I have linebacker shoulders.”

“It does not.” Melissa laughed. Stephanie had a wonderful figure.

“I’m okay with sleeveless, even strapless, but there’s something about those spaghetti straps that don’t work. You want to hop in the shower? I put out fresh towels and a robe.”

“I feel bad invading your privacy,” Melissa said.

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to dress you up and wow my brother.”

Melissa placed the dress back on the rack and turned. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she told Stephanie honestly. “Jared and I barely know each other.”

“You have to start somewhere,” Stephanie replied, obviously undaunted by reality.

“The odds against he and I clicking are about a million to one.”

“The odds against me winning Spruce Meadows last week were about a million to one.”

“But you practiced. You worked hard for years and years to win that competition.”

“I’m not expecting you to marry him next weekend.”

Melissa took a step closer to Stephanie. “I’m not going to marry him at all. You have to understand that. He’s a nice man. And maybe he thinks I’m pretty—”

“He’s going to think you’re a knockout in that silk dress.”

Melissa sighed. “You’re killing me here, Stephanie. I need to know you know this isn’t going anywhere.”

Some of the optimism went out of Stephanie’s blue eyes. “But you’re going to try, right?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I try or not, the odds are still stacked way against it.” And those odds were a whole lot higher than Melissa could admit.

“I’m not afraid of the odds,” said Stephanie, a new equilibrium coming into her eyes. “I’m just leading a horse to water. He drinks or not will be up to him.”

“I take it Jared’s the horse?”

“And you’re the water.”

Relief poured through Melissa. Stephanie understood just fine. She wasn’t some flighty young girl with impossible dreams. She was simply trying to match up her brother and bring some balance to the family’s gender numbers.

The plan didn’t have a hope in hell of working with Melissa, but she could respect the effort.

“Robe’s on the door hook,” said Stephanie. She nodded to the en suite. “Towels are stacked on the counter.”

“Okay,” Melissa agreed. She could play dress-up and ply Jared with questions. Maybe they’d have wine with dinner. Even better. She’d sip slowly and let his tongue loosen up.

She followed Stephanie’s directions, enjoying the marble tub and the luxurious bath products. The towels were big and plush, and Stephanie’s hair dryer gave Melissa’s straight, blond hair some body and bounce.

She exited the room to find Stephanie sitting in front of her vanity in a white robe, her auburn hair damp around her ears.

Stephanie swiveled on the small stool. “What do you think?”

Melissa blinked at the unexpected sight. Stephanie’s delicate features had been all but obliterated by glaringly bright makeup. With spiked lashes, bright blue shadow, dark blush and a fire engine-red lipstick shade, she looked ready for the lead in a 1980s disco flick.

“Uh … I …” Melissa struggled to find words.

Stephanie’s face fell. “It’s that bad?” She glanced back to the mirror.

Melissa rushed forward, reflexively putting her hands on Stephanie’s shoulders. “The look’s a little dated. That’s all.”

Stephanie hardened her jaw, glaring at her features. “Is it me? Do I just not have a feminine face?”

Melissa’s jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can never quite seem to pull it off.” She gestured vaguely toward the closet. “It’s not that I don’t have the ingredients. I’ve got plenty of clothes, shoes, beauty products. But I can never figure out what to do with them. I bought a makeover magazine once. I ended up looking like a clown.”

“You’re beautiful.” Melissa recovered her voice. “Beyond beautiful. You’re stunning.”

“I have a little-girl nose, ugly freckles and funny-color eyes.” She leaned forward, screwing up her face in the mirror.

“Most women would kill for your nose,” said Melissa honestly. “The freckles are pretty, and you just need a new shade of shadow.” She turned the stool, looking critically at Stephanie’s skin tone and features. “Go wash your face. Let’s start over.”

Stephanie perked up. “You’ll help?”

“You bet I’ll help.”

Stephanie jumped up and headed for the bathroom, turning on the taps in the sink. “Did you have a mom and sisters and stuff?” she called.

“A mom, yes,” said Melissa. “But I have five older brothers.”

Stephanie popped her head back into the room. “Five?”

Melissa nodded. “Adam, Ben, Caleb, Dan and Eddy.”

“So probably no makeup tips from them.”

“Nah. But I can frame up a cabin, change a car’s oil and whistle.”

Stephanie laughed as she rubbed cleanser over her face. “And I can rope a calf in under thirty seconds.”

“You never know when these skills might come in handy.”

Stephanie rinsed and dried, walking back into the bedroom, clad in her terry robe. “Where did you learn about makeup?”

“Girlfriends at school, cable TV, demos at the mall.” Melissa glanced around the room and realized the wide sill on the bay window was a good height.

“My friends were in the 4H club. And we didn’t get many channels out here while I was growing up.”

“Can you hop up there?” Melissa gestured. “That way I won’t have to bend over.”

“Sure.” Stephanie held her robe as she got settled, her bare feet dangling.

Melissa selected some lotion and a few cosmetics and piled them on a small table in the alcove. “It’s all about subtlety now,” she explained, tipping Stephanie’s chin toward the light. “Women want to look natural, just a little more beautiful than nature intended. Earth tones will bring out the subtle silver in your eyes, instead of clashing with it.”

“Can you cover up my freckles?”

Personally Melissa liked the freckles. “I’ll tone them down a bit. They’ll be less noticeable. You have amazing skin.”

“Fresh air and healthy living.”

“It works. I’m in an office all day, air-conditioning and recycled smog.”

Stephanie’s forehead wrinkled. “You have a job?”

“I used to have a job.” Melissa cursed inwardly at her stupidity, struggling to recover from the gaff. “I delivered office mail for a while. Very boring.”

“You seem so smart.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“Jared said you knew about Sierra Benito.”

“That was a stroke of luck.” Melissa found a thin brush and some powdered, charcoal eyeliner. “I happened to read an article in the newspaper.”

“But you remembered it.”

“I suppose. Close your eyes.”

“You must have a good memory.”

“Decent.” Memory was a critical attribute for a journalist—names, dates, faces, events. Melissa gently stroked on the liner, chose silver, blue and pale purple for shadow, added a subtle blush and finished off with a neutral lip gloss.

Then she found a comb and piled Stephanie’s thick, wavy hair in a loose twist at the top of her head, freeing a few locks to frame her face and trail at the back of her neck.

Melissa stood back. “Go take a look.”

Obviously self-conscious and nervous, Stephanie hopped down from the ledge. She gingerly crossed the floor to the mirror, squinted, opened her eyes, then stared in silence.

“Wow,” she finally breathed, turning her head from side to side. “I’m gorgeous.”

“You certainly are.”

Stephanie raised her brows to Melissa, mischief lurking in her silver-blue eyes. “Let’s do you.”

Seven

It wasn’t often Jared saw his little sister dressed to accentuate her femininity. Not that he ever forgot she was feminine, but she’d run around the ranch yard like a tomboy ever since he could remember. So tonight when she waltzed into the great room in an ultra-flirty dress, he was momentarily stunned. It was white on top, with bows at the shoulders and a full black skirt that billowed around her knees. She’d done something with her hair, too. And her face looked—

Melissa appeared from behind Stephanie, and the jolt took his breath away. Where Stephanie was feminine, Melissa was sultry. She wore a shimmering thin silk sheath of a dress that clung to her figure like a second skin. Spaghetti straps adorned her smooth shoulders, while the gold and peach shimmered under the warm light. Her hair was upswept, her face flawless, and her long, tanned legs and spiked heels were going to invade his dreams for at least the next year.

He swallowed.

“Is Royce here yet?” asked Stephanie.

When Jared finally dragged his gaze from Melissa, he saw the twinkle in Stephanie’s eyes. He had to hand it to his sister, she knew how to matchmake. Nothing would happen between him and Melissa, but it sure wouldn’t be from a lack of desire. Given his own way, he’d drag her off to his bed right now.

“Sunset Hill flooded out,” he answered. He’d talked to Royce a few minutes ago, and his brother had decided to wait the storm out at the main house with McQuestin.

Fine with Jared.

He didn’t particularly want Royce laying eyes on Melissa, anyway.

Stephanie’s lips pursed in a pout. “Why doesn’t he ride up?”

“Probably because he’d be soaked to the ass in the first half mile.” Jared gave a quick glance at Melissa to see if his coarse language had offended her.

Her little grin was the last thing he saw before the room went black.

Forks of lightning streaked through the thick sky, while thunder cracked and raindrops smashed against the roof and the wooden deck outside.

“Uh-oh,” came Stephanie’s disembodied voice.

“What happened?” asked Melissa.

“Could have been anything,” Jared answered as he made his way toward the mantelpiece. He found a box of matches by feel, struck one and lit a couple of candles. Power outages were common in ranch country, doubly so during storms.

Stephanie crossed to the front window. “I don’t see the cookhouse,” she said.

“Give it a minute,” Jared suggested, flipping open his cell phone. He punched in Royce’s number.

Melissa joined Stephanie at the window, and Jared let himself enjoy the view of her back.

“Why would you see the cookhouse?” asked Melissa.

“They have an emergency generator,” said Stephanie.

“Hey, bro,” came Royce’s voice on the phone.

“Lights out down there?” asked Jared.

“Just now.”

“Us, too. Any problems?”

“The boys aren’t back from the canyon yet,” said Royce.

“McQuestin worried?”

“Won’t be for a couple more hours.”

“Keep me posted?”

Melissa turned, and Jared quickly averted his lecherous gaze.

“Sure,” said Royce.

Flickering lights came on in the distance.

“Cookhouse is up,” said Jared, and Melissa turned back to the window.

“We’re striking up the gas barbecue,” said Royce.

“Don’t let McQuestin talk you into poker.”

Royce laughed as he signed off.

Stephanie had moved into the dining room. She was on her own cell phone, checking to make sure the employees were all accounted for.

Jared tucked his phone in his pocket.

“What now?” asked Melissa.

He checked to make sure Stephanie was out of earshot as he moved toward Melissa and the window. He kept his voice low. “Now I tell you you’re gorgeous.”

“Stephanie’s idea.”

“My sister’s not stupid.”

“Your sister is Machiavellian.”

He moved his hand forward and brushed Melissa’s fingertips. “Seems a shame to let her down.”

“Seems a shame to lead her on.”

“Hey, she’s the one playing us, remember?”

“Mrs. Belmont left lasagna in the oven,” came Stephanie’s voice.

Jared reflexively backed off.

“Salad’s in the fridge,” Stephanie finished.

“I guess we’re dining by candlelight,” said Melissa.

“Romantic,” Stephanie put in, scooping one of the lighted candles and heading for the dining room.

Melissa followed.

Jared allowed himself a lingering glance at Melissa as she walked away. “Better than poker with McQuestin,” he said out loud.

They settled at one end of the big table, Jared at the head, flanked by the two women. Lasagna, salad, rolls and a bottle of merlot were spread out in front of them. He’d lit a candelabra for the middle of the table, and kerosene lamps flickered against the rain-streaked windows.

Melissa’s soft blond hair shimmered in the yellow light. Her lips were dark. Her eyes sparkled. And the silk shifted softly against her body as she moved her hands.

“Do you have political aspirations?” she asked him.

The question took him by surprise. “Why the heck would you think that?”

“You’ve got it all,” she responded, taking another sip of the merlot, which he couldn’t help but note was exactly the same shade as her lips. “Money, success, community standing, charitable work, and now you’re palling around with the mayor of Chicago.”

“How did you know about the mayor?”

She concentrated on setting down her glass. “One of the cowboys mentioned something about your building and the city.”

Jared turned to glare at Stephanie. “How does anybody get any work done around here?” he demanded. “Melissa’s been here three days, and she knows everything but my birth weight and shoe size.”

“Don’t be such a bear,” said Stephanie.

“You’re exaggerating,” said Melissa.

“Not by much.”

“Eight pounds nine ounces,” Stephanie put in with a giggle.

“Ouch,” said Melissa.

“Don’t let that put you off,” Stephanie came back. “It’s not necessarily hereditary.”

Both Jared and Melissa stared at her, dumbfounded.

“What?” Stephanie glanced back and forth between them. “You guys don’t want kids?”

“Several,” said Jared, deciding his sister deserved everything she got from here on in.

He took Melissa’s hand and raised it to his lips. “How does four sound to you?”

“Are you going to hire me a nanny?” she asked, surprising him by playing along.

“You bet. A nanny, a chauffeur and a housekeeper.”

“Okay, then.” Melissa gave a nod. “Four it is. But we’d better get started—I’m not getting any younger.” She reached for her wineglass. “Better enjoy this while I can. Once I’m pregnant, it’s off the alcohol. And this wine is fantastic.”

“I know you’re messing with me,” Stephanie put in. “But I don’t care. I have hope, anyway.”

“We have a very good wine cellar,” said Jared. “It was a hobby of Gramps.”

“Why don’t you show it to Melissa?” Stephanie quickly suggested.

“You hoping I’ll get her pregnant on the tasting table?”

Melissa sputtered and coughed over a drink.

He squeezed her hand by way of apology.

“I think Stephanie’s overestimating the power of this dress,” she wheezed.

Jared hesitated. Then he stepped into the breach. “No, she’s not.”

Stephanie clapped her hands together in triumph.

It was ten o’clock when Stephanie succeeded in getting Jared and Melissa alone together. They were in the truck, and Melissa peered in pitch-darkness and driving rain as they rounded the bend to the row of cottages by the river, the headlights bouncing off the oak trees and the dark porches.

She had to admit, she wouldn’t have wanted to walk all the way back. And she wouldn’t have asked Stephanie to slog through the mud to get to the truck. And that left Jared.

Then he had insisted on carrying her from the ranch house porch to the truck—which was an experience all on its own.

Now they pulled up to the front of her cottage and he killed the lights and turned off the engine.

“Stay put,” he told her as he opened the driver’s door and a puff of cool wind burst in. “I’ll be right around.”

Part of her wanted to insist on walking, but her shoes were impractical, the mud was slick, and she knew the black road would be a patchwork of deep puddles. So she waited, her heart rate increasing, her skin prickling in anticipation and her brain fumbling through sexy projections of being in Jared’s arms again.

Her door swung open, and she shifted from the seat into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck. She’d put a windbreaker over the dress, but her legs were still bare and his strong hand clasped around the back of her thigh.

“Ready?” he asked, husky voice puffing against her cheek.

“Ready,” she confirmed with a nod, and he pulled her against his chest, his body protecting her from the worst of the rain. He kicked the truck door shut and strode over the mud and up the porch stairs, stopping under the tiny roof in front of the door.

He didn’t bother putting her down. Instead, he swung the door open and carried her into the warm cottage.

It was completely dark, not a single frame of reference.

He slowly lowered her to the floor. “Don’t move.”

“Do you have matches?” she asked as he stepped away from her.

“There’ll be some on the mantel.” Something banged, and he cursed.

“You okay?” she called.

“I’m fine.”

Then she heard a crackle, and a small flame appeared across the living room. She could just make out Jared’s face as he lit three candles on the stone mantel. There was a mirror on the wall behind, and the light reflected back into the room.

“Thanks,” she told him.

He shook out the match and tossed it into the fireplace. “You want a fire?”

“It’s not that cold.” She hung the damp windbreaker on a wall hook. Then she wiped her face, pulled the clip from her hair and finger-combed out the rainwater.

It was late enough that she planned to snuggle into bed with her laptop and record notes from the evening. Stephanie had predicted the power would be back on by morning. If not, the staff would gather at the cookhouse for breakfast, and they’d set priorities for animal care.

Jared crumpled up a newspaper, threw it into the fireplace and added a handful of kindling. “It’s not that warm, either.” He crouched down and struck another match, lighting a corner of the newspaper.

The orange flame quickly grew, reflecting off the planes and angles of his face. There was something about the actions that warmed Melissa’s heart. He hadn’t exactly saved her life, but he’d shown a tender, caring side that surprised her.

She automatically moved closer to the fire. “I wish I could offer you coffee or something.”

He rose to his feet in the flickering light. His short hair was damp, and his cotton shirt was plastered to his chest. Power and masculinity seemed to ooze from every pore.

He eased closer, and she was instantly awash in desire.

“Coffee’s not what I want.”

She was dying to ask, but she didn’t dare. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, warning herself that the slightest encouragement was going to bring his lips crashing down on hers, and they’d be trapped all over again in the tangle of desire.

His lips came down on hers, anyway.

And she might have stretched up slightly to meet him.

Okay, she’d definitely stretched up. And she’d tilted her head to accommodate him. And now she was opening her mouth, meeting his tongue, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing her body tightly against his own.

His clothes were damp, but she didn’t care. His hands were roaming, and she loved it. His mouth was sure and strong, but still tender, and oh, so hot.

Passion quickly obliterated reason. She clung tightly as his nimble hands pulled down the zipper of her dress. He eased it over her head and discarded it on a chair. He worked at the buttons of his shirt, alternating between kissing her and staring deeply into her eyes. His were nearly black with passion, while desire pulsed through every fiber of her body.

Her hands went to his jeans, popping the button, sliding the zipper.

He groaned, tossed his shirt and pulled her back into his arms. His kisses roamed her cheeks, her neck and down to where he pushed her bra out of the way. His hot mouth surrounded a nipple, and she threw her head back, her hands grasping his shoulders for support.

He wrapped a strong arm firmly around the small of her back, holding her steady, his mouth sending sparks of desire from her breasts to the base of her belly. He released her bra, dropping it to the floor. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the small bedroom.

The sheets were cool against her bare back. She could barely make out his outline as he discarded the remainder of his clothes. Then his warm, hard, musk-scented body was sliding next to her, and she was enveloped in kisses and caresses that seared heat over every inch of her skin.

She kissed his chest, tasting his salty skin, her hands roaming down his back, over his buttocks, along his strong thighs.

He groaned his approval, kissing her deeply. “You are gorgeous,” he breathed. He kissed her again. His fingers found their way into her flimsy panties.

She gasped at his touch, flexing her hips, transmitting an unmistakable invitation.

He peeled off her panties, produced a condom from somewhere, and covered her body with his own. Their bodies were flush together, tight at the apex, and her legs were wrapped around his waist.

He kissed her deeply, sliding his hands to her bottom, adjusting the angle of their bodies as he eased inside. Driving rain splattered against the bedroom window. Lightning chased across the sky while thunder vibrated the cottage walls.

Then the world around Melissa disappeared. Nothing existed beyond Jared, and every sensation was magnified a thousand times, his touch, his scent, the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice as he recited her name, calling her beautiful, urging her on.

Their tempo increased. The hot and cold and electric sensations heightening to unbearable. As thunder crashed around them, her body stiffened. Her toes curled. Her hoarse voice cried out Jared’s name as she tumbled from the pinnacle down into the exquisite arms of release.

As she floated to earth, Jared tucked a quilt around them. He turned slightly to the side, keeping them locked together, but taking his weight from her body.

Their deep breaths rose in unison, both of them sucking the moisture-laden oxygen from the dark room, recovering, reframing, realizing the magnitude of what they’d just done.

“I’m not sure that was such a good idea,” she ventured on a gasp.

He didn’t let her go. Didn’t back off a single inch. “Because you work for me?” he mumbled against her neck.

Because I’m writing an article on you. Because you don’t know who I am. Because I lied to you. The reasons were endless, and she couldn’t admit to any of them.

“At least for tonight,” she ventured, instead, “do you think we could be clear that I work for Stephanie?”

Jared’s chuckle rumbled through his frame. “So what’s the problem?”

“I’m leaving in a few days.”

He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “Just because something’s short, doesn’t mean it can’t be fantastic.”

“I suppose.” If you took away her deception, a one-night stand certainly wasn’t the end of the world. But eventually he was going to find out her true identity.

She couldn’t do anything to change the past hour, but she did need to control herself going forward. Not that she’d ever divulge any intimate details. Every single thing that happened in the cottage tonight was off the record.

But she did need to back off. She couldn’t let their circumstances get even more complicated.

She eased away from his warmth. “Stephanie’s probably counting the minutes you’ve been down here.”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

“I think that would be best.”

He stilled, and she assumed he was staring at her in the dark.

A lightning bolt lit up the room, and his stark expression of disappointment tugged at her heart.

“I think it would be best,” she repeated, wanting nothing more than to burrow down under the covers and sleep in Jared’s warm arms for the rest of the night. But she had to be strong.

He rolled from the bed. “Of course.” There was a tightness to his voice that bordered on anger.

She closed her ears to it and clung to the passion they’d shared.

His jeans rustled. Then he padded into the living room.

She held her breath while he dressed. Would he come back? Say something more? Kiss her goodbye?

Suddenly his silhouette appeared in the doorway. “Good night,” he offered without coming back inside.

“Good night,” she echoed, struggling to keep the hollowness from her voice. She’d asked him to leave. She was silly to feel hurt.

He waited a moment more, then turned away, heading out into the storm.

The truck engine rumbled to life. The headlights flared up. Then the big treaded tires churned their way over the muddy road.

Melissa dragged herself from the bed. She wrapped a robe around her body, retrieved her laptop, powered it up and forced her thoughts back to the discussion at dinner. The fling with Jared might be over, but she still had her job to save.

“Seth Strickland,” came the terse answer at the other end of the phone.

It was morning. The rain had stopped, and the lights were back on as Stephanie had predicted. Melissa was dressed in blue jeans and a simple tank top again, trying to push the insanity that had become her life back into perspective.

“Seth?” she said into the phone, thanking her lucky stars that he was in the office on a Saturday. “It’s Melissa.”

“Where the hell have you been?” he shouted without preamble.

She wasn’t ready to answer that question yet. “If I could guarantee the Jared Ryder story, can you buy me a little time?”

“No! And what the hell are you talking about? Why didn’t you call me back yesterday?”

“I’m in Montana.”

“You said you were working from home.”

“I’m at the Ryder Ranch. Right now. I had dinner with Jared Ryder last night.”

Seth went silent.

“I need a few more days, Seth.”

“You had dinner with Ryder?”

“And his sister. And his brother’s just arrived.”

“How the hell did you—”

“They think I’m a stable hand.”

“You’re undercover?” There was a note of respect in Seth’s voice. “It’s an exposé?”

“Yes, I’m undercover.”

“What’ve you got?”

“A bunch of stuff. His family. His childhood. Their charitable foundation.”

“Ryder has a charitable foundation?”

“Yes. But I need a few more days. Can you give it to me?”

“You’re in a position to guarantee the story?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence. “If I go to Everett and you don’t deliver, you know both our asses will be out the door.”

“I understand.”

“And you can still make the guarantee?”

“I can.” She didn’t have enough on the construction business yet. But she’d let Stephanie matchmake some more, and she’d find a way to meet Royce. She’d get what Seth needed or die trying.

“I have to have it Wednesday. Five o’clock. And the copy better be bloody clean. We’re not going to have time for much editing.”

“Five o’clock Wednesday,” Melissa confirmed.

“And, Melissa?” Seth’s voice was gruff.

“Yes?”

“Lie to me again, and you’re fired.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seth hung up the phone, and she realized she was shaking. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and she barely had four days to pull it off.

“Have a good time with Melissa last night?” Stephanie asked as Royce’s pickup appeared in the distance on the ranch road.

“It was fine,” Jared answered, keeping his voice neutral. He fully expected Melissa to make herself scarce for the rest of the week.

He wasn’t sure what had gone wrong at the end of the evening, but he’d obviously made some kind of misstep. A woman didn’t go from crying out a man’s name to kicking him out of her bed in the space of two minutes if the guy hadn’t screwed up somehow.

He started down the stairs to meet Royce at the driveway.

“You going to see her again?” asked Stephanie, keeping pace.

“I expect I will. Since she’s living here.” Odds were that he’d run into her eventually.

“That’s not what I meant. Are you going to ask her out? I noticed you stayed down there for a while.”

“I bet you did.”

The sound of the truck’s engine grew louder. Mud sprayed out from the tires as Royce took a corner far too fast.

“Did you sleep with her?” asked Stephanie.

Jared shot his sister a glare of irritation. “What is the matter with you?”

She shrugged. “You were only gone an hour. Not a lot of time, but then maybe you weren’t very—”

“Young lady, you shut your mouth before you get yourself into a world of trouble. Where did you learn to talk like that, anyway?” Maybe he’d stayed away too long. Maybe leaving Stephanie here on her own was a mistake. Or maybe Gramps’s death had affected her more than Jared and Royce had realized.

“I’m just asking a question.”

“You’re out of line, little sister.”

Stephanie pursed her lips in a pout. “So are you going to ask her out again?”

Jared frowned.

“That can’t be out of line. I’m not asking about sex.”

The truck skidded to a halt, and Jared walked forward. “Let’s just get through the weekend, all right?”

“I know I have to get through the weekend,” Stephanie muttered as they walked down the front pathway. “I was only hoping for something to look forward to at the end of it.”

Jared felt a pang of guilt. The whole reason he’d started the charade with Melissa was to keep Stephanie’s mind occupied. Sure, it had run way off the rails last night. But that wasn’t Stephanie’s fault.

He slung an arm around his sister’s shoulders, moderating his voice. “Fine. I’ll ask her out again. But I can’t guarantee she’ll say yes.”

Stephanie turned in to give him a tight squeeze. “I know she’ll say yes. I saw the way she looked at you.”

The words caused a sudden tightening in Jared’s chest. How she’d looked at him? What did that mean? He wanted to probe for more information. But Royce appeared across the hood of the truck, and Stephanie broke free to hug her other brother.

“Baby sister!” cried Royce, dragging Stephanie into his arms, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around.

Jared caught a glimpse of Melissa across the yard, and their gazes met. She was shoveling manure again, and for some reason, that made him angry. She was capable of so much more. She was intelligent, full of insightful opinions and thought-provoking questions.

It occurred to him that he could offer her a job in Chicago. She could work for Ryder International or even the Genevieve Fund. There had to be any number of things a woman with her intellect and curiosity could handle.

In a split second he realized what he was doing. He was working out ways to keep her close, ways that he could see her again, maybe sleep with her again. Though, judging by the expression on her face, the latter was unlikely. But what did it say about him? Was he buying into Stephanie’s fantasy?

He could almost feel a debate going on inside Melissa’s brain. She’d seen him, and she knew he knew. Did she duck her head and go back to work? Did she avoid him, or get the first, awkward moment over with?

While he waited, she squared her shoulders, leaned the manure fork against the fence and determinedly marched toward him. Good for her. He couldn’t help a surge of admiration, and he moved to meet her in the driveway.

“Melissa!” Stephanie’s voice surprised him. “Come and meet Royce.” Hand in Royce’s, Stephanie tugged him to intersect Melissa’s pathway. The four of them met up off the hood of the truck.

“Royce, this is Melissa,” said Stephanie. “She’s dating Jared.”

Melissa’s eyes widened slightly, but she held her composure.

Royce turned to stare at Jared.

Jared gave his brother an almost imperceptible shake, and Royce immediately held out his hand to Melissa. “Great to meet you. I’m the black sheep of the family.”

Stephanie laughed, while Melissa accepted Royce’s handshake. “Melissa Webster. I’m the black sheep in mine.”

“She has five older brothers,” Stephanie put in.

“Worse off than you,” Royce teased, arching a brow at his sister.

“I’d better get back to work,” said Melissa. Her gaze darted to Jared just long enough to let him know she wished they’d been able to talk. Well, so did he. He felt like he owed her an apology of some kind. At the very least, he wanted to make sure things were okay between them.

“Can you come and help me with Rosie-Jo?” Stephanie asked Melissa.

Since Rosie-Jo had half a dozen grooms, Jared recognized the ruse for what it was. Stephanie wanted to pump Melissa for information. But from what he’d seen of Melissa so far, she’d be up to the task of sidestepping anything too personal.

“Dating?” Royce asked as the two women walked away.

“More like flirting,” said Jared. “But I didn’t have the heart to disillusion Stephanie this weekend.”

“Are you going to disillusion poor Melissa?”

Jared shook his head. “She knows the score. She’s leaving in a few days, anyway.”

Royce reached into the back of the pickup truck and retrieved his duffel bag. “How’s Stephanie holding up?”

“Too cheerful,” said Jared. “You just know she’s going to crack.”

“Maybe going up to the cemetery isn’t such a good idea this year. Gramps’s grave is awfully fresh.”

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