by Karen Ranney
At least never again.
Trouble was, Chase Morgan was an extremely sexy man with bedroom eyes and a smile that said he could deliver on anything he’d promise in that direction. Broad shoulders that confirmed he could carry the weight of the world if need be. And big, capable hands that had already proven they could catch her if she fell.
He was trouble.
And she had no doubt she was in trouble.
Best to keep to the subject of the charity work and leave the drooling for some yummy, untouchable movie star like Chris Hemsworth or Mark Wahlberg.
Discreetly, she moved to the other side of the tree and hung a pinecone Santa on a higher branch. “We also hold a winter fund-raiser, which is what I’m preparing for now.”
“What kind of fund-raiser?” he asked from right beside her again, with that delicious male scent tickling her nostrils.
“We hold it the week before Christmas. It’s a barn dance, bake sale, auction, and craft fair all rolled into one.” She escaped to the other side of the tree, but he showed up again, hands full of dangling ornaments. “Last year we raised $25,000. I’d like to top that this year if possible.”
“You must have a large committee to handle all that planning.”
She laughed.
Dark brows came together over those green eyes that had flashes of gold and copper near their centers. “So I gather you’re not just the receptionist-slash–tree decorator.”
“I have a few other talents I put to good use around here.”
“Now you’ve really caught my interest.”
To get away from the intensity in his gaze, she climbed up the stepstool and placed a beaded-heart ornament on the tree. She could only imagine how he probably used that intensity to cut through the boardroom bullshit.
As a rule, she never liked the clientele to know she was the sole owner of the ranch. Even though society should be living in this more open-minded century, there were those who believed it was still a man’s world.
“Oh, it’s really nothing that special,” she said. “Just some odds and ends here and there.”
When she came down the stepstool, his hands went to her waist to provide stability. At least that’s what she told herself, even after those big warm palms lingered when she’d turned around to face him.
“Fibber,” he said while they were practically nose to nose.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know what I do for a living, Faith? How I’ve been so successful? I read people. I come up with an idea, then I read people for how they’re going to respond. Going into a pitch, I know whether they’re likely to jump on board or whether I need to go straight to plan B.”
His grip around her waist tightened, and the fervor with which he studied her face sent a shiver racing down her spine. There was nothing threatening in his eyes or the way his thumbs gently caressed the area just above the waistband of her Wranglers.
Quite the opposite.
“You have the most expressive face I’ve ever seen,” he declared. “And when you’re stretching the truth, you can’t look someone in the eye. Dead giveaway.”
“And you’ve known me for what? All of five minutes?” she protested.
One corner of his masculine lips slowly curved into a smile. “Guess that’s just me being presumptuous again.”
Everything female in Faith’s body awakened from the death sleep she’d put it in after she’d discovered the man she’d been just weeks away from marrying, hadn’t been the man she’d thought him to be at all.
“Looks like we’re both a little too trigger-happy in the jumping-the-gun department,” she said, while deftly extricating herself from his grasp even as her body begged her to stay put.
“Maybe.”
Backing away, she figured she’d tempted herself enough for one night. Best they get dinner over with before she made some grievous error in judgment she’d never allow herself to forget.
She clapped her hands together. “So . . . how about we get to that dinner?”
“Sounds great.” His gaze wandered all over her face and body. “I’m getting hungrier by the second.”
Whoo boy.
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams copyright © 2015 by Karen Ranney LLC.
Excerpt from An Heiress for All Seasons copyright © 2014 by Sharie Kohler.
Excerpt from Intrusion copyright © 2014 by Charlotte Stein.
Excerpt from Can’t Wait copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Hopkins. This novella originally appeared in the anthology All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy.
Excerpt from The Laws of Seduction copyright © 2014 by Gwen T. Weerheim-Jones.
Excerpt from Sinful Rewards 1 copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Sax.
Excerpt from Sweet Cowboy Christmas copyright © 2014 by Candis Terry.
RETURN TO CLAN SINCLAIR. Copyright © 2015 by Karen Ranney LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062337450
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062337467
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