by Judy Duarte
He stole a glance at her, and when he caught her looking his way, she quickly averted her gaze. But as his attraction and interest continued to build, he realized it wouldn’t take much for him to reach out and touch her.
Or, at the very least, to ask her why she was adamant about not returning to Wexler.
* * *
Juliana hadn’t meant to stare at her employer, but he’d been so deep in thought that she couldn’t help it.
Okay, so she hadn’t just noted the intensity in his furrowed brow. She’d also been checking out his profile and the way his hair appeared to have an expensive cut, yet was stylishly mussed. In that Western wear—the worn jeans and chambray shirt rolled at the forearms—he looked like a Texas rancher. And a handsome one at that.
She tried to imagine him in a designer suit, seated at a board meeting in a high-rise building that looked out at the city skyline. He surely had to be quite impressive. Either way, Jason Rayburn was the kind of man who could turn a woman’s head.
He’d certainly turned hers. But she didn’t dare let her attraction get out of hand.
“Would you like some more OJ?” he asked.
“No, thank you. I’ve had plenty already.” In her condition, she had to use the bathroom a lot more than usual. And after all the orange juice she’d had already, she’d be lucky if she could make it through the night without waking at least once.
“This probably isn’t any of my business,” he said, “but do you mind if I ask you something?”
She’d always been fairly open and up-front, although she’d learned to be a lot more cautious recently. “It depends on what you want to know.”
“I get the idea you’d like to relocate. I can see why you might want to live in a bigger city. But I also sense that you couldn’t leave Wexler fast enough. And that it might be due to bad memories.”
She stiffened and leaned back in her chair. Her hand slipped protectively to her tummy. Instead of removing it, which she did whenever she’d found herself doing so in public, she opted to let it linger in the yellow glow of the porch light, allowing her baby the loving caress it deserved. “You’re right.”
“About the bad memories?”
“That the reasons aren’t ones I want to share.”
Silence stretched between them like a balloon she’d blown too full. Just before the tension popped in her face, she added, “But yes, there are some bad memories, too.”
“Related to your employment?”
The man didn’t quit, did he? She turned to him, caught his eyes drilling into hers. Why the sudden inquisition? Shouldn’t his questions about her background and previous employment have come up earlier?
Did she owe her new employer, albeit a temporary one, an answer to that line of questioning?
Maybe and maybe not. But a brief yet truthful response might help to quell his curiosity and put this awkward discussion to rest.
“Yes and no,” she said. “But if it eases your mind, I didn’t lie or steal. And when I left on my last day at work, my personnel file was unblemished. I wasn’t fired or laid off, though. I actually quit. If they have any complaints about me as an employee, it’s that I didn’t give a proper notice.”
He nodded, and before he could quiz her any further, she added, “Just so you’ll feel better about hiring me and trusting me with your family business, I had a romance that went south rather suddenly, and I wanted to put as much distance between the two of us as I could. Brighton Valley is just a pit stop before I take off for good.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“About my breakup?”
“About quizzing you and making you feel uncomfortable. But for the record, I’m actually glad you left the guy and his memory behind.”
A slight smile tugged at her lips, but she tried to tamp it down. All she needed was to lower her guard to the point of doing or saying something she’d regret. And if she’d learned anything out here in the moonlight, she was going to have to stay on her toes around a man like Jason Rayburn.
If he were like his brother, it wouldn’t be an issue. She knew Braden as well as she knew anyone in Brighton Valley. His mother’s family had been ranching in these parts for years. His grandfather was on the town council for a while. And his mom was involved in the women’s auxiliary at the Wexler Community Church. He came from decent people. In fact, she often wondered what his mom had ever seen in his father—especially if what she’d heard about Charles Rayburn was true.
In spite of herself, Juliana risked another glance at Jason, watched him take a drink of his wine, then stare out into the night sky, where a full moon and a splatter of stars glistened overhead.
But the stars weren’t the only things sparking. Her pregnancy hormones were surely coming into play and had to be triggering unwelcome romantic thoughts, which were totally inappropriate. She blamed it on her recent betrayal, the stillness of the evening and, yes, maybe a growing attraction.
For all those reasons, she couldn’t continue to sit outside with him tonight. It could only lead to trouble—or at the very least, temptation.
She had a job to do—one that paid better than could be expected. And she intended to make the best of it.
Even if she didn’t land an interview or a possible position with Rayburn Energy or Rayburn Enterprises, she could use a good recommendation, because she wasn’t likely to get a very good one from the gallery.
In fact, after the details of her romance and breakup became known within local art circles—and they certainly could have by now—she knew better than to ask for any kind of reference at all.
Chapter Three
Juliana had lost track of how many sheep had jumped over her bed that night—surely a flock that would make a Basque sheepherder rich.
Blaming the two goblets of orange juice she’d drunk while on the porch with Jason for her need to get up every couple of hours, she gave up the struggle for sleep just after midnight. She remembered reading somewhere that warm milk might help, but there wasn’t any in the refrigerator. Chamomile tea was another option, although she didn’t recall seeing anything like that in the pantry.
A trip to the market was definitely in order, especially if she was going to do any more cooking while she was on the Rayburn ranch. Since she was wide-awake, she figured she might as well head to the kitchen and start a grocery list.
With that in mind, she rolled out of bed and pulled her robe from the closet. She didn’t bother with slippers. As she took a moment to stroke the slight bulge of her womb, she pondered the phrase barefoot and pregnant.
How fitting was that?
As she opened the door, she noticed the light on in the den. Had Jason forgotten to turn it off when he went to bed?
She padded down the hall. When she turned into the doorway, she spotted him seated at the desk, glaring into the screen of his laptop. She studied him for a moment.
He’d run his fingers through his hair numerous times this evening. Yet even mussed, it didn’t appear the least bit scruffy. Compliments of a highly paid stylist, no doubt.
He frowned as he stared at his laptop, his brow furrowed. Yet even the intensity of his expression didn’t take away from his appeal.
She had no idea how long she stood there gazing at him, admiring his handsome profile, as well as his work ethic. A couple of minutes, she supposed.
Finally, he looked up and noticed her watching him in the doorway. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
She smiled. “I never really went to sleep. What are you doing?”
“Problem solving. At least, that’s what I’m trying to do. We’re working on a marketing strategy that hasn’t been coming together for us, and I’ve been racking my brain to figure out what’s missing.”
“I wish I could help.”
“So do I, but the best brains at Rayburn Energy, including the head of the marketing department, haven’t been able to agree on the best layout.” He pushed away from the desk. “I’m not sure if I should put
on a pot of coffee or call it a night.”
“I’d think caffeine is the last thing you need right now.”
He tossed her a boyish grin. “You’re probably right. Too bad we don’t have any ice cream or cookies.”
“I’ll put dessert on my grocery list. That is, if you want me to do any shopping for meals tomorrow.”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but now that you mention it, I suppose we’ll have to find time to eat during the day. I don’t mind calling out for food, but if you want to pick up groceries, that’s fine with me.”
“We can play it by ear. But I’ll whip up something for dinner tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock and smiled. “Make that tonight. So what’ll it be? Chocolate or vanilla?”
“If you’re talking ice cream, let’s go with rocky road. I like nuts.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as I start that list.” She reached for the black leather cup on top of the desk that held pencils and pens. “Do you have any paper?”
He took a pad that rested near the laptop and handed it to her. “Here you go.” Then he returned his gaze to the screen that had him so perplexed.
“Can I take a look at it?” she asked. “Maybe I can help.”
Jason bit back a smile, which had been better than the chuckle that almost slipped out. The problem had stymied experienced execs with MBAs. Juliana had no experience in the business world.
Okay, so she’d worked as a sales clerk at an art gallery in Wexler. But still, she didn’t have the background that would provide her with the experience or the expertise she needed to actually know what she’d be looking for.
But what the hell.
He rolled back his chair, making room for her to see the screen. Then, using the mouse, he showed her the latest artwork and the graphics the marketing department had sent him earlier this evening.
“I see what you mean,” she said. “Something’s definitely missing. It doesn’t have any spark.”
She had that right. And while everyone knew something was missing, no one seemed to know quite what that something was.
“I think,” she said, “if you merged the wording of number three with the graphics of number four, then used the background of number one, it would be a lot closer to what you’re looking for.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “I’ll give that some thought. Thanks.”
As she stood beside him, he caught a whiff of her scent—something soft and exotic. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting her to be wearing. Something down-home and country, he supposed. Something more suited to Brighton Valley. But then again, she was city bound. Why wouldn’t she have a more sophisticated air? But did her scent come from her perfume or lotion? Or perhaps from her shampoo?
He glanced at her wild, bed-tousled curls, which gave her a sexy look that the frumpy cotton robe couldn’t hide.
What a contradiction she seemed—country vs. city. Lady vs. vixen.
Once again, his attraction built to the point he found it impossible to downplay or ignore, especially at this late hour, with several bedrooms down the hall to choose from.
Unable to help himself, he reached out and twined a loose red curl around his finger. “Has anyone ever asked you if your hair color is real?”
She sucked in a breath, yet she didn’t pull away. “Yes, they have. And it is.”
“I know it’s real. I remember you when you were a girl. It’s just that the shade is so...remarkable. Most people might question whether it was possible for something that pretty to be natural.”
Their gazes met and locked. For a moment, he could have sworn their breathing stopped.
Then she took a step back, and as her hair tightened against his finger, he let it uncoil.
While he might have released their physical connection, something else held them taut. Something he could almost reach out and touch.
She bit down on her bottom lip, then placed her hand over her stomach. He’d seen her make that nervous gesture before, which seemed to be unique to her. Other women nibbled a nail or twisted a strand of hair around a finger seductively. But he’d never seen another stroke her belly.
He found it kind of cute—the gesture, as well as the fact that he made her nervous.
She took another step back, clearly uncomfortable with the heat sparking between them, and nodded toward the doorway. “I’m going to start that grocery list now. And then I’ll try to get some sleep. Otherwise I won’t be worth a thing tomorrow.”
He sensed that she was the kind of woman who’d be worth her weight in gold—either as an employee or a lover. But he damn well couldn’t have her as both. So he let her go.
As he heard her bare feet pad down the hardwood floor, he glanced back at the screen, which displayed the artwork the head of marketing had sent him. He tried to imagine the changes Juliana had mentioned, realizing they did have some merit.
The woman might not have a business background, but she did have some experience with art—if you could give her points for working at what had to be a two-bit gallery in a town that wasn’t much bigger than Brighton Valley.
After giving her suggestion some thought, he shrank the screen and signed into his email account.
Doug,
Do me a favor. Try using the background on number 1. Then merge the text of sample 3 with the graphics on 4. Let me see what that looks like.
Jason
Then he hit Send. He wasn’t an artist, so he’d have to see the sample to know if it would work the way Juliana seemed to think it would. But it certainly sounded as though it might be a lot closer to what they were looking for.
If that was true, Juliana would have more than paid for her keep already. Of course, it was early yet. They still had a ranch full of memories to pore through.
And less than three weeks to do it.
* * *
In spite of getting very little sleep last night, Jason woke early and started breakfast. By the time Juliana walked in, freshly showered and ready to start the day, the coffee had finished brewing and the bacon sizzled in Granny’s favorite cast-iron skillet.
“Something sure smells good,” she said. “I thought you weren’t a cook.”
“I’m not, but I was a Boy Scout. So some things are easy. But I’m usually better frying bacon on a campfire.” He tossed her a smile. “I’m also good at making s’mores.”
She laughed, which lent a flush of pink to her cheeks and lit a glimmer in her caramel-colored eyes.
Damn, she was pretty—even casually dressed in blue jeans and a blouse she hadn’t taken the time to tuck in, the bottom button still undone.
“Besides,” he added, “I didn’t want you to think that you were going to starve while living out in the boondocks. And the truth is, I’m pretty good at fixing breakfast.”
“That reminds me,” she said, “I’ll need to make a grocery run sometime today. That is, unless you want to do it.”
He reached into his pocket, withdrew his wallet and peeled out several hundred dollars. “Will this cover whatever you have on the list you made?”
“That’ll be more than enough.” She folded the bills in half, then tucked them into the front pocket of her jeans. “My plan is to get started with the inventory and packing. Then I’ll take a break and go to the market sometime this afternoon.”
“That sounds good to me.” He nodded toward the coffeepot. “It just finished brewing. Would you like a cup?”
“No, thanks. I’ll finish the orange juice instead.”
He pulled the OJ from the fridge. Then he emptied the carton into a glass he withdrew from the cupboard and handed it to her. “You’ll have to add juice to that list.”
“Will do.” She turned and moved about the kitchen, taking time to check out the scarred oak table and chairs, as well as the various plaques, pictures and cross-stitch hangings with upbeat sayings Granny had used to adorn the walls.
Jason hadn’t wanted to spend any more time in this room than he had to. If he wasn’t care
ful, it would be too easy to become nostalgic and reflective here, mostly because he could almost feel Granny, could still hear her speaking to him, especially with so many of her favorite sayings nearby.
He glanced over his shoulder at Juliana. She was looking closely at a decoupage plaque. He couldn’t actually read the words, but he knew what that one said. It was a Bible verse.
He hadn’t meant to memorize it, but for some reason, it had stuck with him for years and he’d never forgotten it. He probably never would.
Granny had pointed it out to him the day before he’d left for prep school in California. She’d said she had claimed that particular proverb as God’s promise to her. For that reason, she said that she knew Jason, unlike his father, would grow up to be his own man. And that he’d always choose to do what was right and true.
For a moment, Jason thought Juliana might read it out loud. She didn’t, though. Yet she didn’t have to. He could almost hear Granny saying it to him again. Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6.
Still, Juliana continued to study it, as if pondering the wisdom of it.
“Did you know my great-grandmother?” he asked.
Juliana turned to him and smiled. “Just about everyone in Brighton Valley did. She was a warm and caring woman. I think she was a lifetime member of the PTA, even though she hadn’t had a child in school for ages. She was also very involved in the Brighton Valley Community Church. When my mom was recovering from surgery, she and a couple other ladies brought meals to the house on a regular basis.”
“What about when Granny was sick? Before she died. Did anyone from the church bring meals to her?”
“I’m not sure. As far as I know, she kept her illness to herself.”
Jason certainly hadn’t heard a peep from her about any ailments. But then again, she’d never been one to complain. Her doctor must have known something, though. “You don’t think she told anyone how sick she was?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Still, her family should have been aware of it. And they should have done something—visited more. At the very least, one of them should have been with her at the end so she didn’t have to die alone.
