Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan

by Christine Rimmer

  She turned and leaned against the counter as she waited for the coffee to drip. “Is Jackson…all right?”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “Other than being a total wild-ass crazy man, you mean?”

  “I’m serious. I’ve never seen him quite so rowdy as he was tonight. I mean, he was pretty wasted. And starting a brawl at a wedding isn’t exactly what I’d call rational behavior.”

  “He’s fine,” Ethan reassured her. “Going through a few changes maybe. But he’s tough. He’ll work out whatever’s bothering him, you watch.”

  She gave a weary shrug. “If you say so…”

  “Hey.” Ethan got up from his chair and came to her. He’d taken off his bow tie some time before and his snowy tux shirt was open at the neck. He looked totally relaxed and a little bit tired, and she found herself thinking what a great guy he was. A wonderful friend. The best boss ever. “Don’t worry about Jackson.” He stopped just inches from her.

  And it was…a little overwhelming somehow—his standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body, with her backed against the counter.

  Why should his being close bother her now? She’d danced with him at the reception. He’d put a companionable arm around her more than once during the evening, and it had all seemed so easy and friendly.

  But now, alarms were going off inside her head. Maybe it was that it was just the two of them, alone in the quiet kitchen in the middle of the night.

  Suddenly, his being close to her felt scarily intimate rather than fun and companionable. She hadn’t even realized she’d tipped her head down to avoid staring into his eyes—until he touched her chin with a brush of his warm hand.

  “Lizzie…” He whispered her name so tenderly, just the way a lover might. Reluctantly, she lifted her head. His eyes were waiting, dark and soft and tempting. A smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “Okay?”

  She frowned. “About?”

  “Jackson?” he prompted, his eyes lighting with amusement that she had already forgotten her concern for his wild younger brother.

  She felt her cheeks coloring. Did he notice? “Uh, Jackson. Right.”

  “Don’t worry about him.”

  “Well, okay. I won’t.”

  His smile widened. “Good.”

  Behind her, the coffeemaker sputtered. “Coffee’s ready,” she said too brightly, bringing up her hands between them and pushing lightly at his chest. “And you’re crowding me.”

  He seemed amused. “Can’t have that.” And he turned and went back to his chair.

  The moment—scary, unreal and way too intimate—had passed. Lizzie suppressed her sigh of relief and turned to get down the coffee cups.

  Lizzie in a blue dress.

  Ethan thought she looked really good in that dress. Tall and strong and curvy. And so…capable.

  How had it happened that he was starting to find “capable” downright sexy?

  Strange. He’d always gone for more decorative women. Gorgeous, petite blondes with wide eyes and pouty lips, the kind of women who required constant pampering. High-maintenance women. Women nothing at all like Lizzie.

  He would bring them home and Lizzie would cook them wonderful meals—meals they hardly touched to remain a size zero. The women he dated always liked Lizzie because she treated them gently. Kindly. With affection and real care. They always mentioned that she pampered them.

  Ethan sat back in the kitchen chair. He watched her get down the cups and pour them each some coffee.

  Friday afternoon, when he’d gotten so pissed at her for not going with him to the rehearsal dinner, she’d asked him if he was putting moves on her.

  That she would even imagine he would do such a thing had shocked him at the time. After all, Lizzie meant the world to him in a number of ways.

  But not in that way.

  Or so he’d always thought. Until tonight.

  Maybe it was the fear of losing her that had him starting to see her in a different light. Seeing her as a woman—a woman who was attractive to him.

  Not that he would ever actually do anything about this new awareness he had of her. Not that he would hit on her or anything. That would be beyond stupid. He really liked women, but he’d never gotten anything going with someone he worked with.

  And he never would. It was not only a matter of principle, but it was also about common sense. Love affairs ended. Feelings got hurt. It became too uncomfortable, being around each other all the time. It got in the way of the job.

  And then either she would quit, or he would have to ask her to leave.

  He’d end up with exactly the result he was supposed to be knocking himself out to prevent: losing Lizzie.

  Uh-uh. The point was to get her to see that working for him was something she wanted to keep doing.

  But it sure was fun flirting with her, keeping her a little off balance, keeping her wondering what exactly he was up to.

  She set his cup in front of him, carried hers to the chair across the table and sat down. She sipped, glancing up as she swallowed—catching him watching her. “What?” she demanded, a slight frown puckering the smooth skin between her brows.

  He picked up his coffee. “Not a thing.”

  “I have an idea,” Lizzie said at noon the next day, Sunday, when he came down for breakfast. She poured his coffee and set it in front of him.

  “I just got up,” he grumbled.

  “I realize that.” She stood at his side, already dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved red shirt. The kitchen smelled of wonderful things. Muffins. Bacon. In fact, it had always seemed to him that she smelled of wonderful things. Any number of wonderful things—vanilla, chocolate, fresh strawberries, toasted pecans. Whatever she happened to be baking at the time.

  “So where are the muffins?” he asked. “And can I have some bacon, please?”

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, gazing down at him.

  He grunted. “It’s too early for thinking. Breakfast?”

  “Just listen for a minute. Please?”

  “Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight…”

  She grabbed his shoulder, gave it a hard squeeze. “Say you’re listening.”

  “Ouch. Stop. Okay, what?”

  She let go. Strangely, he found himself almost wishing she hadn’t. And she asked, “You’re not going back to Midland, are you? This isn’t a temporary thing, your being here. You’re going to make the oil-shale thing work.”

  “No, no and yes. Breakfast? Please?”

  She went to the counter, got the plateful of golden muffins, carried them back to the table and set them down. “Have a muffin.” She went over and took the chair opposite him.

  He grabbed a muffin and broke it in half. Still warm. He sucked in the fragrant steam that rose from the sweet, hot center. “Butter?”

  She slid the butter dish closer to him.

  He buttered the muffin, slanting her a put-upon glance, which she completely ignored.

  She folded her hands on the tabletop. “So I was thinking that in spite of what we agreed on in Midland, you are really going to need someone when I go, at least at the office. In fact, maybe two someones. An assistant on the job and a housekeeper.”

  Because his plan was that she was going nowhere, he certainly didn’t need to worry about who would replace her. But he couldn’t say that to her as he had already agreed to let her go at the end of July. So he only grumbled, “What we agreed on is fine. I told you I would hire my own assistant. Now, about that food…”

  Her hair was kind of wild around her face, the way it usually was at home. Lizzie had badly behaved hair. At the office, she tried to tame it, but it would always escape and get in her eyes or curl along the sides of her cheeks. Ethan found her hair totally charming.

  Right now, though, her mouth had formed a grim line. The grim line wasn’t very attractive. When she set her mouth like that, it usually meant she was about to lecture him.

  Which was exactly what she proceeded to do. “You have to be
realistic. You don’t want to be without help work-wise or here at home. You’re not going to like having to waste your time finding the people that I can easily find for you.”

  He knew exactly what she was doing. She’d realized she would feel way too guilty just leaving him high and dry with no one to step in and take her place.

  What she refused to see was that he wanted her guilty, that he was completely shameless when it came to keeping her. If guilt would do it, guilt it would be. At least until she came to her senses and realized that staying with him was actually what she really wanted after all.

  He said, “We’ve been through this. We have an agreement. Just stick to your end of it and I’ll stick to mine.”

  “But Ethan—”

  “How about over easy?” He sniffed the air. “And is that home fries I smell?”

  She made a low, growling sound and blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “You are so obstinate.”

  “Lizzie, I’m starving here.”

  Her chair scraped the floor as she jumped up and hustled over to the stove. He reached for a second muffin.

  Three minutes later, she set a plate of eggs, potatoes and beautiful, crisp bacon in front of him. “There. Shut up and eat.”

  He caught her hand before she could escape his side and said in the warm, low voice he usually reserved for the women he dated, “Lizzie, come on…”

  She glared down at him. Her mouth had gone from grim all the way to mutinous. “I am leaving, Ethan. You might as well let me make sure you have what you need when I go.” Her hand felt good in his. Strong. Not small, but still with a certain womanly softness. He thought how simple it would be to pull her down onto his lap. To silence her by covering her mouth with his.

  But of course, he wasn’t going to do that. It was one thing to be willing to play on her guilt, but it was another to get something started that could only end in a bad outcome for both of them. “What if what I need is you?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath through her mouth, which was suddenly soft enough for kissing. He thought how good she looked, with her hair misbehaving and her lips slightly parted. But the kissable expression lasted for maybe only a second. Then she was scowling. “Let go of my hand, please.” He did. She jerked it around behind her back, as if she feared he might grab for it again. And then she whirled and went to the counter, where she took her sweet time filling another cup with coffee. Finally, she turned, leaned against the counter and sipped. “You let me know if you change your mind about letting me find the right people for you.”

  “Will do.” He got busy on breakfast.

  She sipped some more, watching him eat. “I need to get to the store today. And then I thought I’d finish pulling the house together. I got kind of behind the curve when I took on Erin’s wedding cake.”

  He wanted to ask how she could even consider leaving him. They were a great team and he was going to do big things. It was only going to get better from here on out—for both of them.

  But all he said was, “Whatever you think. Try and get a little time just for yourself. Tomorrow, I’ll need you up at the resort all day.”

  The next morning, Lizzie took her own vehicle up to the resort. That way, at the end of the day, if Ethan decided he wanted to hang around and do a little socializing, she would be free to take off.

  Lizzie was there at 9:00 a.m. in the resort office when Ethan met with Grant Clifton, the general manager. Connor McFarlane, the resort’s most recent major investor, was there, as well. Connor was heir to the exclusive McFarlane House hotel chain.

  Grant, tall and lean with dark blond hair, was a local rancher-turned-businessman. Connor, who had dark hair and eyes and a brooding intensity about him, had recently married a local woman, a schoolteacher named Tori Jones. Tori, it turned out, was close friends with Allaire Traub, the wife of Ethan’s cousin DJ.

  Dillon stopped in at about nine-fifteen, just to make sure that Ethan didn’t need him or have any questions for him. Lizzie knew that Dillon wasn’t the only Texas Traub pushing for TOI to put money into the resort. Corey was, too. And he would no doubt have dropped by with Dillon—if he hadn’t been off on his honeymoon.

  They met in a conference room, the four men and Lizzie. For a while there was the usual getting-to-know-you chitchat about Thunder Canyon, about how Lizzie and Ethan were settling in at the house Ethan had leased, about family and friends. Lizzie played hostess, getting everyone coffee, passing the pastry around.

  After an hour or so of visiting, Dillon left them. “Call me if you need me…”

  Ethan promised he would.

  They got down to business, poring over the extensive documentation Grant had provided, discussing revenues and expenses, income versus outlay. Lizzie had her laptop. She took detailed notes as the men worked, simultaneously keeping track of any messages or calls from Midland. For now, Ethan had to be available should Roger Jamison need his advice or guidance.

  At lunchtime, they all went up to the clubhouse. They ate in the Gallatin Room and then Connor said he had to go.

  He turned to Lizzie. “Great to meet you. You’re already a heroine here in Thunder Canyon, whipping up that first-class wedding cake for Erin, saving the day at a moment’s notice.”

  Lizzie laughed. “Hardly a heroine. I’m a baker, born and bred. I baked a cake. It’s what I do.”

  “Well, my wife, Tori, said to be sure and tell you that if Ethan will give you an hour or two tomorrow, you should drop by the Tottering Teapot around noon. They serve lunch there—it’s all extremely healthy and organic. Homegrown produce. Everything natural, nothing with hormones or preservatives. And they offer about a thousand different varieties of tea. The women in town love it.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Ethan in a tone that made it clear you wouldn’t be catching him at the Tottering Teapot anytime soon.

  Connor chuckled at Ethan’s muttered remark and then added, “Allaire Traub will be there, too. And probably several other friends of theirs from town. They would love to have you join them.”

  It sounded kind of fun actually. “I’ll see if I can sneak away tomorrow.”

  “It’s easy to find,” Connor said. “On Main near Pine Street, in what we call Old Town.”

  “We have Old Town and New Town,” Grant explained. “Old Town is the original town, built when the first settlers came here. It’s just east of Thunder Canyon Road. New Town is bigger. It’s farther east, where they started building, adding on as the town grew.”

  Connor turned to Ethan. “I’m leaving tomorrow for several days of meetings at McFarlane House headquarters in Philadelphia. Didn’t you mention you were going to be traveling, too?”

  Ethan nodded. “To Helena at the end of this week and Great Falls next week.” Lizzie kept track of his schedule. He would be working on oil-shale acquisition with those trips, negotiating the purchase of mineral rights to some large tracts of oil-rich shale lands.

  And she would be with him, laptop and PDA at the ready, taking notes, making his life run as smoothly and efficiently as possible so that he could wheel and deal without getting bogged down in the details.

  “When we’re both back in town we should all make a day of it,” Connor suggested, with a nod at Grant. “Let us show you the property.”

  Grant chimed in, “We can tour the golf course first, by golf cart. But for most of the property, horseback is the best way to go. You’ll really get a feel for the land on the mountain. It’s big. And it’s beautiful. You do ride?”

  “Yes, I do.” Ethan had always loved to ride. He offered a hand to Connor and they shook. “A tour on horseback sounds good to me.”

  Connor left, after which Grant took Ethan around the clubhouse, all five stories and various wings. Lizzie followed along, taking notes.

  There were several restaurants on-site, including the Grubstake for casual dining and also DJ’s Rib Shack, which was owned and run by Ethan’s cousin, the one and only DJ Traub. DJ owned the Rib Shack franchise, with ri
b restaurants all across the western United States. He was very successful. And he always joked that it was all because of his special secret sauce.

  Beyond the Grubstake and DJ’s and the Gallatin Room for fine dining, there was also the Lounge, which had a very masculine feel, all dark wood and leather booths and wing chairs. To Lizzie, the Lounge seemed like the kind of place where cattle barons should hang out, drinking whiskey, smoking fifty-dollar cigars and discussing range rights and the fluctuating price of beef on the hoof.

  The spa, called the AspenGlow, was decorated in cool greens and soothing grays. It offered every variety of massage under the sun, along with facials and mud wraps and the usual hair, makeup and mani-pedis.

  There was even a fully equipped infirmary, so that any guest who got sick or injured could receive immediate care. Dillon, who now ran a clinic in town, had filled in for the resort’s regular doctor last year when he’d first moved to Thunder Canyon.

  After the tour of the clubhouse, they got a quick look at the stables. The resort kept a number of horses for the use of the guests. Riding lessons were also available.

  It was a few minutes before five and they were back at the clubhouse when Grant offered a drink in the Lounge before they called it a day. Ethan said he’d love a drink.

  Lizzie took that as her cue to leave her boss and Grant alone for a little quality schmoozing time. “Well, all right, then. If you don’t need me, I’ll just—”

  “Lizzie.” Ethan reached out and hooked an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close against his side. “Come on, stick around. Have a drink.”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have been shocked, but she was. Never in all the years she’d worked for him had he put his arm around her during working hours.

  Yeah, okay. They were close friends. He’d put his arm around her several times the night before last, at Erin and Corey’s wedding reception. But not at the office, not when she was wearing her admin-assistant hat.

  It just wasn’t done.

  He was watching her face, smiling at her, a smile that teased and challenged. He knew exactly what he was doing.