by Ruth Langan
When Ace was gone, Maggie completed her list. She looked up to see Chance still seated at the table, sipping his coffee and watching her intently over the rim of his cup. When he caught her eye he carefully composed his features.
She shrugged aside the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been studying her a little too purposefully. “Would you like more coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough.”
“Tell me. Do you have a secretary, too?”
He’d been expecting this. “As a matter of fact, I do. Carol Ann McCormick. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Maggie had a quick impression of a tall, leggy blonde, efficiently shuffling phones and faxes—and possibly other things—for her busy boss. “Where does she work?”
“In our corporate office in Cheyenne.”
“Isn’t it difficult operating a business so far from your office staff?”
“Not at all. With phones, faxes and computers, we manage just fine. When the company was just starting out, Carol Ann worked here, in my office at the house. But as the company grew, we knew we needed a bigger base. I was glad Carol Ann and her husband were will ing to move to Cheyenne. She used to live in Prosperous. I went to high school with her daughter, Leanne.”
Maggie was forced to alter her image slightly. A not-so-leggy blonde, possibly hoping to make a match between her daughter and her boss.
“Does Leanne work in the office too?”
He shook his head, still watching her intently. “She used to. Leanne married Ken Bentley. He works for me. In fact, half the people in Prosperous work for us, either at WildeOil, WildeMining or the Double W. Ken and Leanne have three of the cutest little girls in all of Wyoming, and she decided to leave work to stay home with them.”
Maggie crossed the room and began to clear the table. But as she reached for his plate he put his hand over hers.
“Why don’t you want to go into town with Hazard?”
She pulled back abruptly. “I just left Prosperous a few days ago. Why should I go back?”
He tilted his head back to fix her with a look. “Most people will do anything to avoid the isolation of this place. Our last cook came up with a reason to go into town every time someone was heading that way.”
“Is that why she no longer works here?”
“It could be. Or it could be because her cooking made Thelma’s taste like something out of a gourmet cookbook.”
“Hey. What a thing to say. I thought Thelma was a friend of yours.”
“She is.” He smiled as he pushed away from the table and stood, towering over her. She had just neatly turned the conversation away from herself. Again. He’d give her this much. She was clever. “But Thelma can’t cook worth a…” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say that Thelma’s cooking should carry a skull and crossbones for unsuspecting customers.”
Maggie couldn’t help laughing. “She made me a grilled-cheese sandwich the first time I met her. That was when her cook, Slocum, had just gone to jail, and she was carrying the workload alone.”
“Yeah? How’d it taste?”
“Like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe.”
Chance joined in the laughter. “Yeah. That’s our Thel. She’s got the biggest heart in all of Wyoming. She just can’t cook. It’s a good thing we love her. And we really do.”
Maggie was still smiling. “The feeling is mutual. She had nothing but good things to say about the Wilde brothers. When I was reluctant to take this job, because I didn’t like the idea of working for three strangers, she assured me that she’d known you all her life, and that you and your brothers were honorable men. She promised me I wouldn’t be sorry.”
“I hope you never have a reason to be.” He stepped closer and lifted a hand to her hair. “I know I’m not sorry you’re here.”
She had given herself a good talking to earlier this morning and was determined to avoid him at all cost. “Easy for you to say now that you’ve had a good breakfast.”
“Yeah. There’s that.” She was as transparent as glass. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. Keep it light while keeping her distance. And he was just as determined to thwart her efforts. The one thing he wasn’t going to allow her to do was ignore him.
He twisted one silken strand of her hair around his finger, all the while staring into her eyes, watching them widen. From fear? Distrust? Whatever the emotion, she blinked and it was gone. She lifted her chin in that gesture that always made him want to smile. It was obvious that no matter how uncomfortable she was, she wasn’t about to back down. It was one more thing he couldn’t help admiring about her.
“And then, Maggie, there’s this.”
Without warning he lowered his face and brushed his mouth over hers. The kiss was as soft as a snowflake and just as fleeting. But it packed a punch that had them both taking a step back.
He reached out a hand to her shoulder, as much to steady himself as to remain connected. “Did I just imagine that?”
“What?” She was amazed at how difficult it was to speak over the feelings that clogged her throat.
“This.” He lowered his head and kissed her again, lingering over her lips until they warmed and softened beneath his.
Her fear was forgotten. As were all her well-intentioned promises to herself.
She couldn’t hold back the little gasp as she felt the quick rush of heat, and the curl of desire along her spine. Without meaning to, she brought her hands to his shoulders and held on as the room took a slow dip and turn. She ignored the warning bells that were sounding in her brain as she allowed him to linger, savoring the moment.
He took his time, his hands circling her waist, the fingers splaying across her ribcage. He kept his eyes open, enjoying the play of shifting expressions across her face. She was delightful to watch. Nerves fluttering just beneath the surface. The slight flush of desire that colored her skin. The way her lashes flickered, casting shadows on her cheeks. The quick hitch of her breath. And the helpless shudder as his fingers moved upward, stopping just below her breasts.
She stepped back in alarm.
When he lifted his head, she could see by the slight narrowing of his eyes that he wasn’t immune to such feelings either.
There was no denying the sparks that flew each time they touched. Sparks that, if struck often enough, were bound to ignite. It was one more reason why she had to find a way to keep her distance from this man. He was definitely an accident waiting to happen. But the truth was, each time he touched her, she forgot to be sensible. In fact, in his presence she forgot every good intention she’d ever made.
Before either of them could speak they heard the roar of engines passing directly overhead.
Chance shot her a dangerous smile. “Talk about lousy timing. It looks like my ride’s here.”
“Are you and Ace…” she drew in a breath and prayed her heart would settle down to its natural rhythm “…flying out together?”
He shook his head. “Ace is going over to Wilde-Mining. That’s about a hundred fifty miles west of here, on the edge of our land. I’m heading to our corporate office in Cheyenne. Whether I like it or not, it’s time to handle a little business.”
“How far is Cheyenne from here?”
“Just a short hop on a copter.” As he started past her he paused, seemed to think twice about it, then turned back. He lifted the back of his hand to her cheek and touched lightly, before brushing a butterfly kiss across her lips.
He saw the way her cheeks flooded with color.
Lowering his hand to his side, he took a step back. “Don’t worry about the distance. Even if my little brother doesn’t make it home tonight, you can count on me for dinner. Then maybe we can take up where we left off.”
“Sorry.” She was determined not to give him the satisfaction of the last word. “The only thing we’re going to do together tonight is eat.”
“Okay. That’s a start.” His lips curved in the most tempting smile. “T
hen we’ll just see where the night takes us.”
As he exited the kitchen, Maggie found herself wondering if that was a promise or a threat.
One thing she did know. Before he returned tonight, she was going to give herself a good talking-to. What kind of wimp was she that every time he so much as looked at her, she fell apart?
She was absolutely not going to allow him to touch her again. Every time he did, all sorts of strange things happened to her. Her mind turned to mush. And her bones seemed to melt. Reason enough to see that she kept her distance from Chance Wilde. No matter how difficult that might prove to be. Because this was a man who knew exactly what effect he had on her.
He was toying with her. Playing with her mind. Maybe even hoping to get even for that first encounter.
Yes, she had no doubt that Chance Wilde knew exactly what he was doing. And what he was doing was driving her around the bend.
Chapter 5
The helicopter dipped low over the land, casting a shadow on the grazing herd. Chance sat beside the pilot, adjusting mirrored sunglasses to shade his eyes. As they drew closer to the ranch, he stared at the land below without really seeing it. He was thinking about Maggie.
He’d spent far too much time thinking about her today. She seemed to hover on the edges of his mind, even during the most crucial business meetings. He had a briefcase crammed with documents that required his signature. Usually he spent the flight from Cheyenne poring over papers, making crucial decisions about future contracts. This time, he’d spent the entire flight simply staring out the window. And, though he hated to admit it, he’d abruptly cancelled his last meeting of the day in order to get back home earlier than planned.
Who was Maggie Fuller? What was she doing hiding out here? He had no doubt she was hiding. Though she tried to cover it, she was running scared. He’d never be able to forget the look on her face when she’d first caught sight of him with his rifle. She’d been absolutely terrified. That wasn’t the normal fear of the unknown. In fact, she exhibited an abnormal level of anxiety.
What had brought her to this place? Had something happened to frighten her? Hurt her? Or could she be running from somebody? His eyes narrowed behind the glasses. Maybe it was a combination of both. Something and somebody. Something too terrible to talk about. Somebody too dangerous to forget.
He’d always trusted his instincts about people. And his instinct told him that whatever her problem, she was no threat to him or his brothers. If she was some sort of corporate spy, she was either the best he’d ever met, or the worst. She seemed to have no clue about the degree of their wealth or their holdings. She would have to be the most talented actress in the world to feign that look this morning when she realized that Ace had a secretary. As for his own work schedule, she didn’t seem to have a clue.
He smiled in spite of himself. She had the most amazing face. So animated. So completely guileless. No, he thought as the ranch house came into view. She wasn’t here to spy on them. She was here to cook. She couldn’t fake that kind of talent. Or the love she had for her work. He was willing to concede that she had probably worked as a cook before she came here. But that was part of the problem he had about this whole mystery. Anyone who wanted to earn a living as a cook would make their way to a big city like New York, Los Angeles, Chicago. Talented chefs just didn’t migrate to a backwater town like Prosperous, Wyoming. Unless they were foolish or desperate. And since Maggie Fuller was no fool, there was obviously one thing that drove her—desperation.
The craft landed on the concrete pad, the blades spinning as Chance jumped out.
“Thanks, Brady.”
“Sure thing, Chance. Will you be needing me tomorrow?”
Chance shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I’ll call you.”
By the time the helicopter was airborne once again, he was halfway to the house.
He tossed his jacket and briefcase on a bench just inside the front door, and loosened his tie as he strode along the hallway to the kitchen. The closer he got, the louder grew the sound of music on the oldies radio station. He recognized an old Bee Gees number about stayin’ alive. Maggie was singing along at the top of her lungs.
When he stepped through the doorway, he stared around in amazement.
It looked as though a tornado had struck. Or at least some sort of disaster. The sink was littered with pots and pans. There were more in disarray all over the countertops. Maggie, in an oversize apron, was up to her elbows in dough. She seemed to be trying to beat it to death with her fists, punching against the soft mound, turning it, then punching it again, as she moved in rhythm to the music.
Chance studied her profile. Her hair curled damply around her forehead and neck. The tip of her nose and one cheek were dusted with flour. She had kicked off her shoes. Her bare toes peeked out from beneath the cuffs of wrinkled denims, her feet keeping time to the beat.
For the space of several minutes he leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her struggle with the blob of dough. Then, in a cheery tone he called, “Hi honey, I’m home.”
She spun around so quickly, she nearly lost her balance. Her face registered shock, fear, then wild-eyed disbelief.
“What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you for hours.”
“I can see that. If you hadn’t been playing the music so loud, you’d have heard the sound of the helicopter engines.”
He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer, staring in fascination at the front of her apron. It was smeared with bloodred stains. “So. Did the other guy survive?”
She glanced down at herself and realized what he was looking at. She burst into laughter. “I hope you like Italian.”
“That depends.” His lips curved in a smile. “Did you kill him, or only wound him?”
“It was only a flesh wound. I took out most of my venom on the clams and the marinara sauce. I think I’ll save the rest of my anger for the guy who just walked in that door before I had a chance to clean up this mess.”
“Okay.” He lifted a hand in mock defense. “How about if I offer to help you?”
She shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You’ve already put in a full day at work. This is my job.”
“Humor me.” He began to roll his sleeves. “It’s been a long time since I’ve washed dishes.” He emptied the sink of pots and pans and turned on the tap, pouring in a liberal amount of detergent. Picking up a brush, he began to scrub, as the radio grew silent for a moment before breaking into the first notes of Garth Brooks singing “You Move Me.”
“Why are you home so early?” Maggie shaped the last of the dough into a loaf pan, then draped a clean linen cloth over it.
“A little bird told me my cook was in need of assistance.”
“The bird lied.” She picked up a towel and started to dry. “I really would have had everything clean in time, if only you’d given me a couple more hours.”
“In a couple more hours you’d have run out of pots and pans.” He chuckled. “And room to put them. Do you always work in such a frenzy?”
“That depends. Today I decided to bake half a dozen loaves of bread, each one seasoned in a slightly different way.”
“Why so many?”
In truth, she hadn’t been able to get Cody’s words out of her mind. The image of three boys losing their mother then their father had stayed with her. Maybe it was her way of erasing the image she carried of these brothers struggling to keep a ranch and a family together.
She merely said, “Seeing the way you and your brothers love to eat, I figured we’d go through at least that many in a week.”
He handed her a glistening pot, enjoying the way her eyes heated up when their fingers brushed. “Sort of a big job, isn’t it?”
“I’m used to taking on big jobs.” She had a fleeting memory of the staff who had worked beside her at the restaurant. “But I’m also used to having someone cleaning up behind me.”
“All the more reason I’m glad I
showed up early. So, how big was the last kitchen you worked in?”
She thought of the expanse of stainless-steel work space, the salad chefs, the pastry chef and the crew of seven to assist. “About this size,” she lied.
He’d already noted her pause and knew that she was deciding how much to tell him. It only made him want to dig deeper. “Did you work alone?”
She shrugged. “I had help when I needed it.”
She was shutting him out. Offering as few details as possible. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to prod a little more. “Did you need help often?”
“Only when there was a big party.”
“In that little restaurant in Chicago.”
“Um-hmm.” She compressed her lips, knowing he was digging and wishing she could find a way to change the subject.
He glanced at her. “Would you like us to hire a helper? I’m sure my brothers would agree, if you thought it was necessary. Maybe Thelma could recommend someone.”
“No.” Her response was immediate and firm. The last thing she wanted was a stranger poking around, watching her. “I’m perfectly capable of handling this alone. If there were two of us working here every day, we’d be tripping over each other.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the way she heaved a sigh of relief. “Of course, there’s always Cody.”
“He doesn’t look like a man who’d enjoy following me around a kitchen.”
“Don’t kid yourself. The old guy’s dazzled by you. I could tell by the way his eyes lit up when he first saw you. And now that he’s tasted your cooking, he’s probably halfway in love.”
Maggie chuckled. “Yeah. I always drive the old guys mad with my beef patties.”
“Seriously.” Chance paused a moment in thought. “It might be the perfect way to ease him out of the cold when the temperatures drop below zero. My brothers and I have been worrying about him. At his age, it’s getting tougher to chase cows who get lost in blizzards. But he absolutely refuses to take life easy. Maybe if we told him you needed his help for a while, it would solve both our problems.”
