Читать книгу Courting The Cowboy Boss - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 9

Two

His body tightened, on high alert. Though he was almost certain Mellie Winslow hadn’t intended anything suggestive by her question, there was enough of a spark in the air to make him react with a man’s natural response to a beautiful available woman.

Case hadn’t expected the punch of sexual interest. Truth be told, it reinforced his reservations about hiring any housekeeper, much less one who looked like Mellie. He was a sucker for redheads, especially the kind with skin the color of cream and wide emerald eyes reflecting a certain wariness...as if she had been disappointed one too many times in life.

Though she was clearly accustomed to hard physical labor, she was thin but not skinny. The shade of her red curls, spilling from a ponytail that fell past her shoulders, was a combination of fire and sunshine.

He should tell her to go. Right now.

“Are you saying I make you nervous, Ms. Winslow?”

She wrinkled her nose, as if smelling a refrigerator full of rotten eggs. “A little. I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

That last sentence was served with a side of feminine defiance designed to put him in his place. She reminded him of a fluffy chicken warning the rooster away from the henhouse.

“Duly noted.” He tapped a stack of envelopes. “The trial period works both ways. You may find me such a slob that you’ll run screaming for the hills.”

Mellie’s smile was open and natural. “I doubt that. I’ve reformed worse offenders than you, believe me.”

At that precise moment, he knew he wasn’t imagining the sizzle of physical awareness between them. Maybe Mellie didn’t notice, but he did. At thirty-six, he surely had more experience than this young woman, who was on the dewy-skinned right side of thirty.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He glanced at his watch, ruefully aware that he had to put an end to this provocative interview. “I’m afraid I have another appointment in town. So we’ll have to wrap this up. Why don’t you plan to start Thursday morning? I’ll put some thoughts on paper in regard to what I want you to tackle and we can go from there. Does that work for you?”

Mellie stood, smiling. “Absolutely. Thank you, Mr. Baxter. I’ll see you soon.”

“Call me Case,” he said.

“And I’m Mellie.”

* * *

Case stood at the window, his hand on the lace curtain as he watched his new housekeeper drive away. He knew the time had come to put his house in order—literally—but he had a sinking feeling that he might be making a bad mistake.

The fact that he found Mellie Winslow so appealing should have put an end to things. He’d fallen for an employee once before and ended up with a broken marriage and a bank account that had taken a severe hit. His track record with long-term relationships was virtually nonexistent.

He’d never had sisters. With his mother gone, the only female relatives he had were two cousins in California whom he saw maybe once a decade. He wasn’t a good judge of what made women tick. He enjoyed their company in bed. He was even willing to concede that women and men could be friends under certain circumstances.

But as one of the wealthiest ranchers in Maverick County, he’d learned the hard way that a man was not always judged on his own merits. He might marry again one day...maybe. But only if he was damn sure that his prospective bride cared more about his character than his financial bottom line.

As he drove into town, he noted, almost unconsciously, the signs that Royal was flourishing after last fall’s F4 tornado. He took in the new storefronts, fresh landscaping and a few empty lots where damaged buildings had been razed in preparation for upcoming construction.

The town had rebounded well, despite tragedy and hardship. Case knew there were still problems to be addressed. Insurance woes remained an issue. Slow payments. Court battles over settlements. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had a history of benevolence and community service. Case was determined to use his new position to keep the organization headed in the right direction, particularly in regard to the ongoing tornado cleanup.

For Royal to rebound from tragedy and prosper in the twenty-first century, it would be important to keep all sectors of the local economy alive. Which meant looking out for small businesses. Like the Keep N Clean.

When he pulled up on the side street adjoining the Royal Diner, he saw that the sheriff’s squad car was already there. He found Nathan Battle inside, sipping a cup of coffee and flirting with his wife, Amanda, who owned and operated the diner.

Case took off his cowboy hat and tucked it under his left arm. “Sheriff. Amanda. Good to see you both.” He shook Nathan’s hand and slid into the booth opposite the tall uniformed man he’d come to meet.

Amanda smiled at him. “Congratulations on the election. I just heard the news.”

“Thanks.” Nathan and Amanda had been high school sweethearts. After a tough breakup as kids, they’d eventually reconnected, fallen in love all over again and married. Case envied the almost palpable intimacy between them. Two people who had known each other for so long didn’t have to worry about secrets or betrayals.

Amanda kissed her husband on the cheek. “You boys have fun. I’ve got to go track down a missing shipment of flour, so Helen will be your waitress today. I’ll catch you later.”

The server took their order for coffee and dessert, and Case sat back with a sigh. He worked long hours. His daddy had taught him the ranching business from the ground up and drilled into him the notion that in order to be the boss, a man required more than money in the bank. He needed the respect and loyalty of his employees.

Nathan drained his coffee cup and raised a hand for more.

Case shook his head. “Do you live on that stuff?” Nathan was tall and lean and beloved by most of the town. But he rarely had time for leisure.

The sheriff shrugged. “There are worse vices.” He smiled at Helen as she gave him a refill, and then he eyed Case with curiosity. “What’s up, Case? You sounded mysterious on the phone.”

Case leaned forward. “No mystery. I’m hoping you’ll be available to look over the club’s security procedures and disaster plans. Last year’s tornado taught us all we need to stay on top of emergency preparedness.”

“Not a bad idea. I’d be happy to...just email me some dates and times, and I’ll block it off on my calendar.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

They chatted for half an hour, and then almost as an afterthought, Case asked Nathan the question that had been on his mind. “What do you know about Keep N Clean?”

“Mellie Winslow’s business?”

“Yes.”

“They’re a solid outfit. Amanda has used them here at the diner, and I know a lot of people around town who sing their praises. Why?”

“My housekeeper retired eight months ago. Took her pension and headed to Florida. I need help around the house. Especially now that I’m taking on leadership at the club. But I’m out on the ranch a lot of the time, and I don’t like the idea of having strangers invade my personal space.”

“I’m sure Mellie vets her employees thoroughly. I’ve never heard a single complaint about anyone on her staff, and I would know if there had been a problem.”

“And Mellie herself? She says her staffing situation is stretched to the max, so she would be the one working for me.”

The other man obviously knew about Case’s short-lived marriage. It was no secret. But it was humiliating nevertheless. Back then, Case had been thinking with a part of his anatomy other than his brain. The resultant debacle had been a tough lesson for a twentysomething.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking as a boss or as a man?”

“What does that mean?” Case hadn’t expected to be grilled.

“Well, Melinda Winslow is not only a savvy businesswoman, she’s a gorgeous unattached redhead who’s smart and funny and would be a great companion for any guy.”

“Hell, Nathan.” Case took a swig of coffee and nearly choked to death when the hot liquid singed his throat. “Why do all of my married friends feel the need to play matchmaker?”

Nathan grinned. “How many times have you gotten laid in the last month?”

“Not all marriages are like yours,” Case muttered, refusing to be jealous of his buddy’s good fortune. “Amanda is a peach.”

“So is Mellie. Don’t let your prejudices get in the way. And to be clear, now I’m talking about business again. She can be trusted, Case...if that’s what you’re asking. You can relax on that score. She’s not going to steal the silver or run off with a Picasso.”

Case’s parents had been art collectors. The ranch house was filled with priceless paintings and sculptures. “Good to know. I liked her during the interview, but it never hurts to get a second opinion. Anything else you want to add to your glowing recommendation?”

Something flickered across Nathan’s face...something that gave Case a moment’s pause. “What?” Case asked, mildly alarmed.

“Nothing bad about Mellie. But be on your guard if her dad comes around. He’s a drunk and a scoundrel. As far as I can tell, fathering Mellie is the only good thing he ever did. I arrest the guy for public intoxication at least several times a year.”

“And Mellie supports him?”

“No. He lives off the rents from a handful of properties around town that have been in the Winslow family for generations. In fact, the Texas Cattleman’s Club sits on Winslow’s land. Mellie helps out with the leasing company now and then, but I think she started her own business in order to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“No mother in the picture?”

“She died a long time ago. I imagine she left her daughter some kind of nest egg that allowed Mellie to start her business. The family used to be financially solvent, but Mellie’s dad has almost destroyed everything. Booze mostly, but gambling, too.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” After taking a bite of pie, Case moved on to another subject. “What do you know about Samson Oil and their connection to Nolan Dane? I hear he’s handling a lot of land sales for them.”

Nathan nodded. “I’ve heard it, too. Dane seems a decent sort. And his roots are here. So I assume he’s trustworthy. Still, Samson Oil is not a household name. No one seems to know much about them.”

“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Dane and the Samson Oil situation. Something about that whole thing seems a little off to me...”

* * *

Thursday morning Case found himself pacing the halls of his way-too-big-for-one-man house. At least half a dozen times he’d pulled out his phone to call Mellie Winslow and cancel her services. But he couldn’t think of a single explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a paranoid idiot, so he’d resisted the impulse to wave her off.

Relishing his privacy was one thing. But if he continued to keep women out of his house, he’d wind up a withered, curmudgeonly octogenarian with a fortune in the bank and a cold, lonely existence. Still...old habits were hard to break.

Mellie arrived five minutes before their arranged appointment time. He’d have to give her points right off the bat for promptness. When he opened the door at her knock, he blinked momentarily.

It could have been a reaction to the blinding midmorning sun. But more probably, it was the sight of a slender, smiling woman in knee-length navy shorts and a navy knit top piped with lime green. On her feet she wore navy Keds with emerald laces.

The name of her business was embroidered above one breast. A breast that he didn’t notice. Not at all.

He cleared his throat. “Come on in. I fixed us some iced tea.” Though it was November, the day was extremely hot and muggy.

“Thank you.” Mellie carried a large plastic tote loaded with various cleaning supplies.

“Leave that, why don’t you? We’ll sit down in the kitchen. I hope that’s not too informal.”

“Of course not.”

Mellie seemed at ease when she took a seat. Thankfully, she tucked those long, tanned legs out of sight beneath the table. The back of his neck started to sweat. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and get to work.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table and held out a piece of paper. “Here’s a rundown of my priorities. Feel free to add things as you see anything that needs attention.”

His newest employee glanced over the list. With her gaze cast downward, he could see how long her lashes were. “This looks good,” she said. “I’ll start out working full days for a couple of weeks until I get everything deep-cleaned and organized. After that we can talk about how often you’d like me to come.”

Case caught himself before his mind raced down a totally inappropriate path. Perhaps Nathan was right. Maybe Case had gone too long without sex. Because everything that came out of Mellie Winslow’s mouth sounded like an invitation.

Case cleared his throat. “I was at the diner and saw Nathan the other day. The sheriff had good things to say about you and your business...that you were completely trustworthy.”

“How did that come up in conversation? Were you investigating me?”

“No, no, no,” he said, backpedaling rapidly. “But you can’t fault me for asking what he knew about you.”

She stood up, her expression going from affronted to glacial in seconds. “In the folder I gave you several days ago there were half a dozen references. Any one of those people could have vouched for me. It wasn’t really a police matter, Mr. Baxter.”

“I’ve offended you,” he said, surprised at her reaction.

She tossed his list at him. “If you’re going to constantly keep tabs to make sure I haven’t cleaned out your safe or absconded with a priceless painting, then I don’t think this is going to work out. Good day, Mr. Baxter.”

Before he could react, she spun on her heel and headed for the front door, her ponytail bouncing with each angry step.

“Wait.” Belatedly, he sprang to his feet and strode after her, whacking his hip on the corner of the kitchen table. “Wait, Mellie.”

He caught up with her in the foyer as she picked up her supplies. “Don’t leave,” he said. “We agreed to a trial period.”

“Shortest one on record,” she snapped.

He really had no choice but to grab her arm in a gentle grip. “I’m sorry,” he said...as forcefully as he knew how. “If you leave, I’ll sue for breach of contract.” He said it with a smile to let her know he was joking. But Mellie Winslow didn’t look the least bit amused.

Wiggling free of his hold, she faced him, her expression turbulent. “I’m proud of my business. It’s been built on word of mouth and the quality of the employees I hire. Keep N Clean has never had a single complaint of anything going missing...or of anything being damaged, for that matter.”

Case rarely made a misstep, but he knew this was a bad one. “I am sincerely sorry. I shouldn’t have asked the sheriff about you.”

“Amanda Battle is a friend of mine. Do you understand that I’m embarrassed?”

He did. For the first time, he looked at his actions from Mellie’s perspective. To a Texan, honor was everything. She had a right to be upset.

“Let’s start over,” he said.

She stared at him. “Under one condition. No trial period. You sign the contract today.”

The negotiator in him was impressed. But more importantly, as a man, he found her bold confidence arousing. Everything about her was appealing. In other circumstances, he would have made an effort to get to know her more intimately.

Mellie Winslow, however, was here to put his house in order, not warm his bed. “I begin to see why your business is so successful. Very well, Ms. Winslow.” He held out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

Touching her was his next mistake. Awareness sizzled between them. Her skin was smooth and warm, her hand small and feminine in his grasp. He maintained the contact a few seconds longer than necessary.

When he released her and she stepped back, for the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “I probably overreacted,” she muttered. “I have a temper.”

A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “So the red hair is the real deal?”

“It is. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so touchy.”

They stood there staring at each other, the air rife with things best left unspoken. “I should go,” he said. “And let you get started.”

She nodded. “If I have any questions, is it okay to text you?”

“Of course.”

Her green eyes with a hint of gray warmed slightly. “I’ll try not to bother you.”

Too late for that. He picked up his keys from the table beside the front door. “See you later, Mellie Winslow. Good luck with my house.”