Courting the Cowboy Boss: Reclaimed by the Rancher

by Janice Maynard

  It was nice of him to take the time to acknowledge her work. Perhaps the message was a peace offering after the argument that had started their day.

  With a smile on her face, she snuggled back into the covers, unable to squelch the hope that she would run into Case tomorrow and maybe even see him in her dreams.

  Four

  Case jammed his Stetson as far down on his head as it would go and hunched his shoulders, trying to bury his chin in the collar of his rain jacket. The weather gods had finally sent Maverick County some moisture, but it wasn’t the days-long, soaking rain they needed.

  Instead, the precipitation was a miserable, icy-cold drizzle that chilled a man right down to the bone, a dramatic shift from the previous day. Since seven this morning, he’d been out riding the fence line with his foreman, looking for problems. They’d lost two dozen head of cattle in the past few weeks. Everyone suspected rustlers, but before Case involved the authorities, he wanted to make sure the animals hadn’t simply wandered away through a hole in the fence.

  Now, though he was wet and weary, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his fencing was not compromised. Giving the foreman a wave, Case turned his horse and galloped back toward the house. Already this new housekeeper thing was getting in his way.

  Ordinarily in a situation like this, he would strip down in the mudroom, walk through his house naked and climb into the hot tub on the sheltered back porch. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen today, with Mellie around.

  Muttering beneath his breath, he handed off his horse to one of the stable guys in the barn and then strode toward the house. He was grumpy and wet and hungry, and he wanted his castle to himself. His bad mood lasted all the way up until the moment he found Mellie Winslow bending over the side of his bed dusting the base of one of the posts. She was wearing Spandex pants, the navy fabric curved snugly against a firm, shapely butt.

  His heart lodged in his throat at about the same time his gut tightened with swift and wicked arousal that swept through his veins. He actually took half a step backward, because he was stunned.

  Mellie straightened and smiled, her expression cautious. “Mr. Baxter. Case. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be home in the middle of the day. I can move on to another room for now.”

  He shrugged. “I need a hot shower. Won’t be long.” Unless maybe he got distracted imagining Mellie in there with him...

  “I put fresh towels in your bathroom a few minutes ago. They’re probably still warm from the dryer.” She paused and seemed hesitant. “Have you had lunch?”

  Come to think of it, he hadn’t. Which might account for his surly attitude. “No. I’ll grab something in a minute.”

  “Would you like me to fix soup and a sandwich? It’s no problem.”

  His fingers were cold, his skin damp. But inside, he was burning up. He should have hired a seventy-plus grandmotherly type with a bun and absolutely no sex appeal.

  But he hadn’t. Oh, no...not at all. He’d brought temptation into his house. Hell, into his bedroom, to be exact. He cleared his throat. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

  Mellie nodded and walked away.

  Case slumped against the wall, his heart thundering in his chest. There was far too much going on in his life right now to get sidetracked by a very inconvenient attraction. He was a grown man. Not a boy. He could control his physical impulses.

  In the shower he turned the water hot enough to sting his skin. Maybe the discomfort would take his mind off the fact that he had an erection...a big one. Damn. What was it about Mellie that caught him off guard and made him hungry to strip her naked and take her to bed?

  She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way, but Royal had more than its share of attractive women. Case didn’t find himself panting after every one of them. Maybe it was the fact that Mellie was in his house.

  That was his mistake.

  He dried off and changed into clean clothes. His others, wet and muddy, lay in a pile on the bathroom floor. Presumably, his new housekeeper would take care of washing them.

  Standing in the middle of his bedroom, he acknowledged the truth. He didn’t want Mellie Winslow washing his clothes. He had far better plans for activities the two of them could enjoy.

  It was bad enough that she was cleaning up after him. Maybe he was weird, or maybe his first marriage had ruined him, but he liked relating to women on an even footing. Mellie was talented and capable and she was doing exactly what he had hired her to do. So why was he getting freaked out about everything?

  He found her in the kitchen. She hummed as she moved around the room. His oak table, situated in the breakfast nook, was set with a single place mat, a lone plate and glass and a set of silverware.

  Mellie waved a hand. “It’s all ready, if you want to sit down.”

  He leaned against the doorframe. “Aren’t you joining me?”

  Her eyes widened momentarily and a faint pink crept up her neck. “I had a big breakfast. I usually work through lunch.”

  “At least a cup of coffee, then. You’re on the clock, and it’s my clock.” He smiled to put her at ease, since she was eyeing him dubiously.

  “Okay.”

  He refused to sit at the table and be served as if he were in a restaurant. Instead, he waited until she placed the bowl of tomato soup and the grilled cheese sandwich at his place. “This looks great,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Coffee to drink?”

  “Yes, please. Black.”

  Mellie poured two cups, added milk and sugar to hers, and then joined him as they both sat down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the aroma of freshly prepared food reached him and his stomach growled loudly.

  It was Mellie’s turn to grin.

  They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, Mellie sipping her coffee and Case wolfing down the food she had prepared for him. Though soup and a sandwich wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, the comfort food was filling and delicious.

  “So tell me, Mellie...what are your ambitions for Keep N Clean?”

  If she was surprised by his interest, she didn’t show it. “When I’m dreaming big,” she said, “I think about franchising and moving into medium-size towns all over Texas.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. You must have a knack for numbers.”

  “I have an associate business degree. But most of the hands-on stuff is self-taught. It’s important to discern what a client wants and then be able to provide it. Especially in a service industry like mine. You have to stand out from the pack.”

  “Very true, I’m sure.” He finished his meal and stood to get more coffee. He held out the coffeepot. “More for you?”

  Mellie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d better get back to work.”

  “Not so fast,” he said. The urge to detain her was unsettling. He had plenty to keep him busy. But he didn’t want to walk away from Mellie. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Mellie smiled wryly. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Well...”

  He watched her search for words and wondered if she was going to avoid any mention of her father. Fortunately, he was a patient man...so he waited.

  She shrugged. “It’s not very exciting. I grew up in Royal. My mom died of cancer when I was sixteen. My dad went into a tailspin of grief, meaning I ended up being the parent in our relationship. I knew I wanted to start my own business, so I looked around and tried to find something that filled a niche. Royal had an industrial cleaning company but nothing smaller, other than individuals who worked for themselves.”

  “And here you are.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Working for the brand-new president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

  “Are all your employees as eye-catch
ing in that uniform as you are?”

  Her jaw dropped a centimeter. “Um...”

  “Sorry. Was that out of line?”

  “More like unexpected.” She stared at him, gaze narrowed, clearly trying to get inside his head. “Someone told me that you don’t like women invading your house.”

  He winced. Royal’s gossipy grapevine was alive and well. “That’s not exactly accurate.”

  “No?” She cocked her head as if to say she knew he was skirting the truth.

  “I like my privacy. But since I have neither the time nor the inclination to round up dust bunnies or clean out the fridge, I have to make compromises.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m accustomed to wealthy people who barely even acknowledge the presence of a service worker. We’re invisible to them. Nonentities.”

  He frowned. “I can’t speak for all the comfortably well-to-do families in Royal, but my friends aren’t like that.”

  “If you say so. And for the record, Case, no one would describe you as only ‘comfortably well-to-do.’”

  Mellie Winslow had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she wasn’t trying to hide it now. “Does my lifestyle offend you, Mellie?” he asked gently, wondering if she would rise to the bait.

  She sat back in her chair, pushing a few stray wisps of hair from her forehead. The set of her jaw was mutinous. “Let’s just say that I don’t have a single Modigliani hanging in my hallway.”

  “My parents were art collectors. They traveled the world. But believe me when I tell you I would trade every sculpture and painting in this house to have Mom and Dad back with me for just one day.”

  * * *

  Mellie knew she had stepped in it...big-time. She felt hot color roll from her throat to her forehead. The taste of shame was unpleasant. “I am so sorry, Case. You’re right, of course. Relationships matter more than things. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

  He grinned at her, his scruffy chin making him dangerously attractive. His hair was still damp from his shower. “Don’t get carried away. Money is good for a lot of things.”

  “Such as?”

  He leaned his chair back on two legs, defying gravity, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Flying to Paris for the weekend. Buying a yacht. Scoring Super Bowl tickets. Supporting a charity. Spoiling a woman.”

  She had a feeling he threw that last one in to get a reaction.

  There was a reaction. But it happened someplace he couldn’t actually see. She cleared her throat. “Being spoiled is nice, but most women I know want to take care of themselves.”

  For the first time, she saw a shadow of cynicism on his face. “Maybe you know the wrong rich people and I know the wrong women.”

  Mellie stood abruptly, feeling out of her depth and alarmingly sympathetic toward the man who’d been born and reared with every possible advantage. “There’s more soup on the stove, if you’re still hungry. I really do have to get busy.”

  Case unfolded that long, lean body of his from the chair and joined her at the dishwasher, his hands brushing hers as he put his plate alongside her cup. She felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. “Is your boss such a slave driver?” he muttered.

  She turned around to face him. They were almost in an embrace, the counter at her back and one big contrary cowboy planted in front of her. She lifted her chin and propped her hands behind her. “I’m the boss, Case. And I don’t need to be spoiled. If I want to fly to Paris this weekend, I’ll buy my own ticket.”

  His gaze settled on her lips. For one heart-thumping second, she knew he was going to kiss her. “Don’t be so touchy, Mellie. There’s nothing wrong with a man doing nice things for a woman.”

  Things? Oh, Lordy. “Um, no... I guess not.” She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you flirting with me, Case Baxter?”

  He shrugged, a half smile doing interesting things to that enticing mouth. “What happens if I say yes?” His thick eyelashes settled at half-mast. She could smell the soap from his shower and his warm skin.

  Her inclination was to tell him. The truth. The shivery, weak-in-the-knees truth. She wanted hot, sweaty, no-holds-barred sex with Case Baxter on his newly made bed.

  But sadly, she was known for being smart and responsible. “I suppose if you say yes, I’ll have to point out unpleasant things like sexual harassment in the workplace.”

  “You just told me I’m not your boss. We’re here as equals, Mellie. So I guess whatever happens, happens.”

  Before she could react, he brushed his lips against her forehead, turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen.

  Mellie put her fingers to her lips like a schoolgirl who had just been kissed by the captain of the football team. Case’s chaste kiss had not made contact with her mouth at all. But she felt the imprint of his personality all the way to her toes.

  Moving cautiously toward the window, she peeked out and saw him striding toward the barn. She hadn’t expected him to actually work on his ranch. Which made no sense, because if Case had been an entitled, supercilious rich jerk, he’d never have been elected president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. People liked him.

  She might like him, too, if she could get past the huge neon sign in her brain that said Off-Limits.

  In the meantime, she had things to do and places to be.

  The master suite had occupied most of her time today, and not only because she was fascinated with its owner. The bathroom and bedroom were huge. By the time three o’clock rolled around, she had deep-cleaned everything from the grout between the tiles to the wooden slatted venetian blinds.

  In addition to an enormous teak armoire, the quarters boasted a roomy walk-in closet. Her fingers itched to tackle the chaos there, but that chore would require a chunk of time, so she would postpone it until tomorrow. No sense in starting something she couldn’t finish.

  She left earlier than the day before and told herself it wasn’t because she was avoiding Case. He was an important client, true, but she still had to run her business.

  Back at her office, she popped the top off a bottle of Coke and downed it with a sigh of pleasure. Sure, the sugar and caffeine weren’t good for her, but as addictions went, the soda was fairly harmless.

  Which was more than could be said for her inability to erase Case from her thoughts. If he was seriously testing the waters with her, she would have more to worry about than a sugar rush. Allowing herself to be lured into a multimillionaire’s bed would be the height of folly.

  She knew herself pretty well. Guarded. Suspicious. Independent.

  On the flip side, she was hardworking, generous and ambitious. The one thing that she was not was a good judge of men’s motives. Perhaps because her mother had not been around to share advice, Mellie’s father had gone overboard in warning her about guys and sex.

  He’d told her sex was all boys wanted from a girl...that it was up to her to make good decisions. Well, here she was. Almost thirty. A modest financial success. A dutiful daughter. And only steps away from missing out on things like romance and motherhood and the chance to meet a man who could make her toes curl with his kisses.

  Case might not be her idea of the perfect man for the long haul, but he might be exactly the right guy for the here and now.

  Five

  Case returned to the house at four thirty, anticipating another round of verbal sparring with the delightfully prickly Mellie. But her car was gone. Was she avoiding him? And didn’t she know that the male of the species enjoyed a chase?

  He had dinner plans with Nathan Battle tonight. Amanda was out for the evening with her book club. So Case and the sheriff were looking forward to medium-rare steaks, a couple of games of pool and a sampling of sports on Nathan’s brand-new
big-screen TV.

  Nathan had offered to do the cooking. Case brought a case of imported beer and an apple pie he’d picked up at the bakery. The rain had ended several hours ago, so the two men sat outside in the gathering gloom and enjoyed the crisp air.

  The scent of beef cooking made Case’s stomach growl. Which made him think of the last meal he’d eaten. The one a certain redhead with kind eyes and a stubborn chin had made for him.

  Nathan kicked the leg of Case’s chair. “I’m the quiet one. You’re supposed to entertain me with tales of the rich and famous.”

  Case slunk farther down in his chair. “I’m not famous.”

  Nathan laughed out loud. “What’s eating you, Baxter? I’ve had livelier conversations at a morgue. Is the new job title weighing you down?”

  “I’m not official for ten more days, so no.”

  “Then what?”

  Case drained his beer and popped the top on a second. “You’re imagining things.”

  Nathan stood, flipped the steaks and sat back down with a sigh. “Then it must be the new housekeeper. Is she making you take off your shoes at the door? Or forbidding you to eat popcorn in the den?”

  “Very funny. It’s my house. I can do whatever the hell I please. Mellie doesn’t run my life.”

  “Mellie? Wow. First names already?”

  “I wasn’t going to make her call me Mr. Baxter.”

  “Fair enough.” The other man paused. “Here’s the thing, buddy. I have to pass along a warning.”

  “A warning?”

  “Yes. From Amanda. But to be honest, I agree with her.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “It’s not a joke, Case. If you screw around with Mellie Winslow either literally or figuratively, Amanda will come after you. And my wife can be pretty scary when she’s on her high horse.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Mellie hasn’t had an easy life. You’re way out of her league.”