Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

by Watters, Patricia

  But looking at Rebecca Hamilton, he could imagine kissing her. She was shaped right too. Slender. Good proportions. Something nice to hold. He could also imagine getting his eyes scratched out if he tried; she was definitely not sending him signals. But he couldn't decide whether she was being all business, or if she'd had her fill of men coming onto her. She had the kind of looks that either scared men off because she was too beautiful, or had them following her around just to look at her, but she didn't invite them to approach. There was definitely an invisible wall between her and the world.

  "So, is it Rebecca or Becky?" he asked. Neither name seemed to fit the woman.

  "Jayne with a Y." She shrugged. "I picked it myself. I didn't like Rebecca or Becky."

  "Okay then, Jayne with a Y, it is," Sam replied, eyeing the safari outfit, thinking the name fit. He could see her being Jane to a Tarzan, except for the pale complexion. She could also be a Hollywood movie scout's dream. She had that ethnic mix they could make into a striking Cleopatra, or a queen of the Amazons, or a futuristic female warrior.

  "You said you were going to show me the place," Jayne reminded him, and he realized he'd been staring at her. Her unique beauty held his attention. More than that. It made him want to haul her off to one of the guest rooms upstairs. Shoving that thought aside, he led her across the great room and down a hallway, and into the kitchen.

  "This is Flo," he said, upon entering the spacious room where their cook and housekeeper of the past ten years stirred the contents of a big pot. "She runs the kitchen. You'd be responsible for planning menus, but Flo does the shopping. You'd have to work that out with her."

  Jayne ran a hand over the butcher block countertop of the island workplace, and said, "The kitchen equipment is outdated. Do you plan to replace it any time soon?"

  Sam shrugged, and replied, "It's all fine."

  "Maybe twenty years ago it was," Jayne said. "Where is your icemaker?"

  "We don't have one," Sam replied. "Flo keeps ice trays in the freezer."

  "This?" Jayne said, stabbing a finger at the top of a twenty-year-old chest freezer.

  "It's adequate," Sam said.

  Jayne touched the front of the dishwasher. "How many loads does it take to do the dishes in this?" She looked at him and waited.

  Yeah, it too was at least twenty years old, Sam silently conceded. The woman could have a point. Maybe when the addition to the winery was finished they could consider a new machine. "Flo figures that out," he replied.

  Jayne scanned the room. "What about fryers, and steamers, and griddles, and char broilers? You have two old ranges, a refrigerator that's got to have been here when you were in high school, and enough space in the room to upgrade. Why haven't you?"

  "This isn't the Hyatt Regency," Sam said, annoyed that the woman was finding fault in the kitchen. Flo hadn't complained and he didn't want her getting ideas about needing upgrades, with all available funds going towards finishing the winery.

  He also felt like returning to calling the woman Miss Hamilton. Or maybe Sergeant Hamilton. He was beginning to feel like she was interviewing him and he and the ranch had to pass some kind of criteria before she'd agree to work there.

  "Where will I be staying?" Jayne asked, as if the job was already hers.

  She was so damn confident he was tempted to send her packing. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do that, even with his doubts about her. Nothing concrete. Just a gut feeling that what he saw wasn't necessarily what he'd get. "Your room would be down the hall from here," he emphasized, keeping his options open. He hoped she'd pick up on it.

  "I'm sure it will be fine," she said, clarifying things.

  "Come on." Sam left the kitchen and continued down the hallway and showed her the bedroom that would be hers, then backtracked to the room beside it, and said, "This is the manager's office, but the ranch computer's in the office just off the entry."

  "I have my own computer," Jayne replied. "It has my management program on it."

  "You won't need the program," Sam said. "It's not that complicated here. You check in guests, plan meals, and make sure the staff cleans the rooms and changes the beds." The woman was making everything too damn complicated.

  "Then you have an accountant?" she asked.

  "Not on staff," Sam replied, "but that's not too hard to figure out either. Guests pay, checks go in the bank, receipts go in a box, and our tax accountant figures out the rest."

  "Your brother's right, Sam. You do need me," Jayne said.

  And Sam got the impression she'd just accepted the job. He had no idea when she'd switched from his interviewing her to her running the place, but he needed to square things away because he had an electrical inspector on his way to check the wiring in the winery addition, and he needed to get back out there. "Look, set things up the way you want, work with Flo about meals and Jack about activities, and I'll be around if you need me."

  "I won't. But I can't run the place in a vacuum," Jayne said, when he started to leave. "I need to know something about expenses—a list of room rates, cost of supplies, where to purchase them, and the names and contact information of guests."

  Sam had no intention of giving her access to their tax and financial records until he had time to check her references, but she did have a point. "Come to the office," he said. "I'll show you what we have." He led her back down the hallway and through the great room and into the ranch office to where a couple of plastic file boxes sat on the floor by a desk. "This one has this year's receipts in it," he said, pointing to one box, "and this one has accounts payable and accounts receivable. Keep everything in their folders even if the headings don't make sense. My tax accountant is used to the way I label files."

  Jayne looked at him, doubtfully, and said, "Before you go, I'd better take a look."

  "Make it fast," Sam groused. "I haven't got all day."

  Jayne lifted the lid of the box containing accounts receivable and fingered through the file folders, pausing on a particular one. "What's Crabs?" she asked.

  "People who owe money. When they don't pay, we begin to feel the pinch," Sam said by way of explanation, and tried not to feel like a complete idiot.

  Jayne retrieved the crab folder and fingered through it. Lifting out a hand-written IOU scribbled on a scrap of paper, she said, "This guy owes over three-thousand dollars."

  Sam shrugged. "He cut down a tree that fell on our storage building."

  "But it's dated two years ago."

  "He's a neighbor. He's paying it off a little at a time."

  "And you didn't have him sign a note?"

  "We shook hands," Sam said. "That's good enough for me."

  She eyed him curiously then returned the folder to the box. After replacing the lid, she said, "Do you have guest ledgers that show who came, and when?"

  Sam clenched his jaws. Opening the drawer, he pulled out several ledgers and slapped them on the desk. "Here's the past five years," he said. "Have at it." He left before the woman could make him feel any more incompetent than he already did.

  He had a degree in ranch management but never applied it since the ranch had been running fine for years, but after his father was killed in the automobile accident it was up to him and Jack to take over, along with their wives. Big mistake. His ex forgot what the words forsake all others meant, Jack's ex ended up going to prison for smothering their four-month-old son, and Jack's new wife had a house full of kids to manage. So he and Jack had been stumbling along, and the ranch stumbled along with them. But maybe Sergeant Hamilton could line up the troops and get them marching in a straight line again.

  ***

  Jayne glanced out the front window of the lodge and saw Sam Hansen walking in long strides across the grounds toward the winery. He was an impressive looking man, and there was no question he sent her heart skipping, but he also made her uneasy. His brother, Jack, hadn't been a problem. He scanned her resume, told her he had to get back to his wife who'd just had a baby, and help look after their five o
ther kids, and said the job would be hers after she ran it past Sam, which she did. But she'd known all about Jack before applying. She'd heard it from his ex-wife who, at the time, was determined to get Jack back, which she hadn't. But seeing the names Grace and Jack Hansen, instead of Lauren and Jack Hansen, in the online ad for a guest ranch manager for the Dancing Moon Ranch had been like a gift from heaven. She'd learned so much about the place from Lauren, she felt like she could step in and take over.

  It had been touch-and-go with Sam though. But after the interview, she knew she was exactly where she wanted to be. At a disorganized ranch run by men who were too busy to check her background, and once she had things running smoothly they'd have no reason to. She wasn't there to con anyone out of anything, but conning her way in was the only way she could get where she was going, which was definitely not on a ranch stuck in the hills of Oregon. But it was a step in the right direction.

  "Crabs!" she said aloud, and smiled. Sam Hansen was an interesting man. Rugged and well-put together. And handsome. She also suspected he could be a pain in the tail. But before she'd move on to her next job she'd have the guest end of the operation running well, and Sam wouldn't be filing things under Crabs. But it was kind of cute.

  She was relieved that Sam did business with a hand shake, and she'd continue his method of accounting—checks in the bank, receipts in a box, the tax accountant taking it from there—so Sam wouldn't have a reason to turn over his tax records to her, which would demand a background check, even for a man who did business with a hand shake.

  Grabbing the plastic file boxes by their handles, she carried them into the room that had been set up as her office and lowered them to the floor, then returned for the guest ledgers and placed them on the big oak desk and pulled out the desk chair…

  Four hours later, Jayne had a reasonably good picture of what was going on. The place was a disaster. Occupancy had fallen steadily over the past five years, guests who used to come regularly had quit coming, and several of the cabins along the creek had not even been opened the previous summer. However, during the winter three years before, they did manage to get double rent for one of the cabins. It had been rented for two months by the author, Brad Meecham, who could afford to pay, but although he'd come back with his family every Christmas after, as well as a couple of weeks each summer, he was never charged.

  "Have you figured it all out?" Sam asked, as he came strolling into her office.

  Jayne looked up to see him standing in front of her desk, arms folded. A mixed message. Arms folded, standing at the door would have been one thing—just checking on you and staying out of your space—but he approached her desk and was standing in her space, yet shutting her out. Maybe he'd checked her only reference and someone other than Angie answered. Or, Angie answered and he'd caught her in their trumped-up story.

  She eyed Sam more closely. He had a nice mouth, she realized. Well-defined lips. Nothing soft about them. Masculine lips, but with the hint of cynicism in the way one corner twitched, like he was a little aggravated. He licked his lips then, and she realized he was aware of her looking at them. She adjusted her gaze upward, and he cocked a brow in awareness.

  Dismissing the innuendo, she picked up a sepia-colored brochure, and said, "First off, we need new brochures. You and Jack look like you're eighteen in this."

  "Actually, we were sixteen," Sam replied. "We were tall for our ages."

  Tall and gangly on the brochure, Jayne noted. Definitely not that way now. The man had a pair of shoulders that filled out his western-cut shirt, and then some. "These old things—" she waved the brochures again "—make it look like the guest ranch isn't making any money."

  "It probably isn't," Sam said.

  "Probably? You don't even know?" Definitely the place she wanted to be. The men didn't have a clue what was going on, and didn't seem to care.

  "I've been busy," Sam said. "We have funds set aside to run the place."

  "Well, you just might look in your shoebox one day and find that those funds have been used up," Jayne said. If the man ever had organizational skills he'd abandoned them somewhere along the way. "Occupancy has been falling steadily for five years. According to this year's guest log you only have five families scheduled for your opening Easter weekend, a thirty-percent occupancy, with only two weeks away, and one of those families is the writer who stays in the cabin every year and is listed as an unpaid guest."

  "They're my sister-in-law's sister and her family," Sam replied.

  "But they can afford to pay," Jayne argued. "The man must be rolling in money."

  "He's still family."

  "Okay, then," Jayne said. "Give me the go ahead to have new brochures printed and that will be a start. Maybe it'll drum up some business."

  "How much do you need for brochures?" Sam asked.

  "I don't know," Jayne replied. "I have to get price quotes. A list with lodging rates also needs to be printed to go inside each brochure."

  "Just use the rates we have," Sam said, dismissing the subject.

  The guest ranch was definitely not where his heart was, Jayne realized. "How about a ten percent upward adjustment?" she suggested. "Charge more, give more. Marketing strategists do it all the time. Raise the price and people think they're getting something better." At least that's what she'd read online, and from the introspective look on Sam's face, he seemed to be buying into the idea that she was a pro at this.

  "I suppose that would be okay," Sam said. "Prices have been the same for years."

  "Fine then. If you give me a phone book I'll call around and get quotes on both full color and two tones brochures..." Jayne's voice drifted off as she noted the pulse beating in Sam's throat, and the way his muscular arms filled out his sleeves and his shirt stretched across his broad solid chest made her speculate that he could look pretty impressive without the shirt… without anything on, actually. Which surprised her. It had been years since a man had caught her eye.

  "You do that then," Sam said in a quiet low voice, drawing her gaze back up to meet his. He looked at her steadily, and smiled, and she knew he'd been aware of her close perusal. And damn if that smile didn't crank up her heart rate. There was no question the man had an effect on her. She hadn't counted on that when she applied for the job.

  He unfolded his arms, moved around the desk, and leaned close to her face as he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a phone book. She felt his breath, warm and insistent on her cheek, as he said, "Here's the local phone book. I'll take you to the printer's tomorrow."

  She turned her head to look at him. "I thought you had to work on the winery," she said, not more than a few inches from his face. His nearness was unsettling, made her heart skip and her blood pulse hard in her veins, and now wasn't the time to break the professional barrier she needed to hold onto this job. If Sam wasn't convinced she knew what she was doing he could still ask for more references, or look up the ranches on her resume and learn they didn't exist.

  "They don't need me out there tomorrow," Sam said. "The finishing carpenters are scheduled to be there and I'll just be in the way. Besides, I'd like to know more about you."

  "More, like what?" Jayne asked. Was he flirting? Or was he suspicious?

  "Nothing in particular," Sam replied. "Just get better acquainted."

  Jayne looked at him, dubiously. Was this Sam Hansen's approach to women? If so, it wasn't very subtle. "How better acquainted?" she asked, guardedly.

  One corner of Sam's mouth tipped up in a half-smile. "That's entirely up to you, Jayne with a Y. Flo will be coming too, and she was asking about you."

  Jayne felt ridiculously presumptuous. "Well, it would be nice to get to know her too," she said, hoping that undid any implication Sam might have construed.

  "You'll also meet my son, Ricky," Sam said. "I'll be picking him up from his mother. I have custody, but Susan gets him every other weekend, except Ricky called and said he wants to be at the ranch for his birthday instead of with his mother."
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  So the man was divorced, Jayne noted, feeling a little ripple of pleasure. "How old is your son?" she asked, wondering why Sam had full custody. Most single fathers did not.

  "He'll be nine," Sam replied. "A little messed up right now because of the divorce, but a really good kid. Smart. Wants to be a doctor."

  "At nine, he's already decided?" Jayne asked, surprised.

  "Ricky's had serious health problems," Sam replied. "He's fine now, but he spent the first three years of his life in hospitals because of a rare type of anemia he was born with. When he was three he had a cord blood transplant which did what a bone marrow transplant does, but because of what he's been through, he's set on being a doctor."

  "You said he was messed up. Messed up how?" Jayne asked, then wondered if it was a good idea to start questioning Sam. It opened the door for him to question her, and she still needed to secure her position and prove her worth before coming clean with him.

  "His mother with another man. A fitness jock," Sam said, in a curt voice.

  Unquestionable bitterness, Jayne noted. So, Sam's wife left him for another man. Pretty hard on a guy's ego. She found herself studying Sam's face. Definite cynicism around the mouth when he wasn't smiling. He also had a dusting of gray at his temples and sideburns. On him it looked good. With a son turning nine, she figured he was in his mid to late thirties. "Then your son doesn't like his stepfather, I take it." Talking about his son seemed a safe subject.

  "Not stepfather," Sam replied. "Susan lives with the guy, a bad message to send to the kid. Ricky will grow up assuming sex outside of marriage is fine."

  Jayne felt her heartbeat quicken. The way Sam said it, while looking at her, was almost like an accusation, though he couldn't know about her past. Not even her parents knew, at least she didn't think they did, but she hadn't seen them in ten years. She hoped no one would ask about them either. So much to hide right now, yet, with a few months to prove her worth, her past would not be an issue. But if Sam did a background check there was no question, he'd send her on her way.