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The Texan's Twins
Pamela Britton


DEFINITELY NOT DADDY MATERIAL!Jasmine Marks is focused and hardworking, and when she took a job as engineer for Baron Energies, she left behind her support network. Now, the burden of caring for her twin girls is all on her, and she doesn't have time for a dilettante playboy like Jet Baron. Besides, she needs her job, and she can't blow it by getting involved with the boss's son. On the surface, Jet Barron is a dabbler, dropping into work one day and riding rodeo the next. But when he makes his mind up, he goes for it, full-out. He knows a lot more than anyone suspects, about the oil business, about women. And this woman needs someone to count on - which will be Jet, if he gets his way.







Definitely Not Daddy Material!

Jasmine Marks is focused and hardworking, and when she took a job as engineer for Baron Energies, she left behind her support network. Now, the burden of caring for her twin girls is all on her, and she doesn’t have time for a dilettante playboy like Jet Baron. Besides, she needs her job, and she can’t blow it by getting involved with the boss’s son.

On the surface, Jet Barron is a dabbler, dropping into work one day and riding rodeo the next. But when he makes his mind up, he goes for it, full-out. He knows a lot more than anyone suspects, about the oil business, about women. And this woman needs someone to count on—which will be Jet, if he gets his way.


“You think I’m some kind of prank. An actress hired to—what? Pretend to have a meeting with you? Then strip out of my clothes?”

He’d started to get a funny feeling. “Well, yeah.”

She took a step toward him, and Jet would be lying if he didn’t feel as if, somehow, the joke was on him.

“Tell me something, what makes you think the engineer in question is a man?”

“All engineers in the oil industry are men.”

She took another step toward him. “There are actually quite a few women in the business. I graduated from Berkley with a degree in geology.” She took yet another step closer. “I interned for the USGS out of Menlo Park then moved back to Texas to get my master’s in engineering. My father was a wildcatter, and it was from him that I learned the business, so let me reassure you, Mr. Baron, I can tell the difference between an injection hose and a drill pipe. But if you still insist only men can be engineers, perhaps we should call your sister, Lizzie, who hired me.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment. “Oh, crap.”

Her extraordinary blue eyes scanned him, her derision clearly evident. “Still want me to strip?”

He almost said yes, but he could tell that he was in enough trouble as it was.


Dear Reader (#ulink_54129b58-15ef-5daa-a027-a29024be41c6),

It’s always a privilege to be asked to contribute to one of Mills & Boon’s continuity series. When my editor called and explained the premise of the Texas Rodeo Barons, I became even more thrilled. Cowboys, rodeos and family drama? I was in!

I will have to admit, it’s a little daunting, too. All those different heroes and heroines to keep track of, not to mention story lines and plot twists. I knew I would need to read each book to ensure I didn’t drop the ball somewhere along the way.

Those books blew me away.

I was left in awe of my fellow authors: Donna Alward, Trish Milburn, Barbara White Daille, Cathy McDavid and Tanya Michaels. To be honest, I was a little overwhelmed, too. Could I write a book as good as my sister authors? I wasn’t sure I could, but I sure tried, focusing all my energy on creating a story that would continue the standard of excellence…and a funny thing happened.

I fell in love with my own characters.

My hero was so much fun to write, and my heroine the perfect match for his bad-boy personality. Add in two adorable twin girls and, well, what a hoot-and-a-half.

I hope you feel the same way about The Texan’s Twins.

Pamela Britton


The Texan’s Twins

Pamela Britton




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_c40dc876-e8fb-5076-9010-36a2b9c2ce56)

With over a million books in print, PAMELA BRITTON likes to call herself the best-known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that changed thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR.

But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by the Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT Book Reviews. She’s won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and a nomination for the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award.

When not writing books, Pamela is a reporter for a local newspaper. She’s also a columnist for the American Quarter Horse Journal.


For the real life twins, Brooke and Gwen.

Two adorable little girls who always amuse and entertain me. I couldn’t have written this book without you in my life. Know that Auntie Pam loves you.


Contents

Cover (#u17155f35-f31f-55a0-b122-bc3389444fb2)

Back Cover Text (#u44186c50-6011-525a-9ce7-43802b526831)

Introduction (#u06c604ad-ba29-5c1b-b69f-409c3c599d3c)

Dear Reader (#u7379dbf5-9479-56f7-a584-7a365259a603)

Title Page (#u82151c71-957c-511d-9555-9306816a7f72)

About the Author (#u04becabf-acab-5151-be9c-138af1294f70)

Dedication (#u96763def-db93-5a44-9379-9c799c04a98c)

Chapter One (#u1052443b-4ee4-52e5-aeb2-b57a11b44baf)

Chapter Two (#ud1f907be-19d6-5e00-acc2-df3484f5823f)

Chapter Three (#ub59c05f3-a029-5163-a82b-5d2bf6576eec)

Chapter Four (#u192d2758-6387-591f-9e18-1c3a04d61236)

Chapter Five (#uc78af287-dd1d-5a6d-8dd2-d167da3de903)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_6fa549f3-8d7e-5509-92d6-40ded79cb5e0)

Hole-lee Toledo—

Jet Baron slammed on the brakes, nearly clocking his chin on the steering wheel in the process.

Dust kicked up from his truck’s tires and wafted around the woman’s silhouette. A blonde woman—a drop-dead gorgeous woman—in a black dress stared at him curiously as he drifted to a stop.

She waved, mouthed hello, and all Jet could think was, all right, which one of his rodeo friends had set him up? They’d teased him mercilessly last night when he’d told them about the meeting this morning out in the middle of a field in Nowhere, Texas. Jet Baron, forced to work, they’d said. Not forced, he’d explained. More like...emotionally blackmailed.

This had to be his friends’ idea of a joke because there was no way this was J. C. Marks, their newly hired engineer at Baron Energies. Granted, he’d never met the man, but the point was, J.C. was a man.

“Ha, ha, ha,” he said as he slipped out of his truck, the words Baron Energies on the side—unlike her truck. “Very funny.”

The woman in the black dress stepped away from her vehicle and frowned.

“I beg your pardon?”

Eyes the same piercing blue of an Artic fox scanned first him and then his white truck. She had golden hair, the kind that glowed like pirate’s treasure and hung well past her shoulders, and a heart-shaped face complete with a tiny chin and nose. Her huge eyes were outlined with black; it made her appear even more doll-like. This was no engineer with a master’s degree in engineering. No way.

“You going to peel off your dress now? Or later?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. My friends didn’t know I was meeting a man. A project engineer, actually, and you don’t exactly look the part. Nice try, though.”

Her mouth hung open a bit, and it was a plump, juicy-looking mouth, one that made him think of eating fruit for some strange reason.

“Let me guess. Jet Baron.”

“One and the same.” He gave her a welcoming smile, his gaze slowly sliding over her body. Damn. Wherever they’d found her, his buddies had outdone themselves. Hot didn’t begin to describe her. Damn hot. Holy-moly hot.

“Why am I not surprised?” she asked.

Her sarcasm startled him, as did the way she eyed him up and down, her gaze skating over his jeans and black shirt. So direct. So appraising. So...disappointed.

He straightened. “If you’re going to start stripping, you better do it now. I’m expecting the engineer at any moment.”

She had tipped her head sideways, her long hair falling in large curls over one shoulder. “You think I’m some kind of prank. An actress hired to, what? Pretend to have a meeting with you? Then strip out of my clothes?”

He’d started to get a funny feeling—like he’d walked into a room at the end of a joke. “Well, yeah.”

She took a step toward him, and he would be lying if he didn’t feel as if, somehow, the joke was on him.

“Tell me something—what makes you think the engineer in question is a man?”

“I was told that.”

“By whom?”

He couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter.

When his sister had told him to meet with their newest engineer, she’d said Mr. Marks...hadn’t she?

“I don’t know who told me, just that I know he’s a man. All engineers in the oil industry are men, but if you want to pretend you’re part of the industry, have at it. Won’t matter once you take off your clothes.”

She took another step toward him. “Oh, but see? You’re wrong.” One more step. “There’s actually quite a few of us women in the business. I graduated from UC Berkeley with a degree in geology.” Another step. “I interned for the USGS out of Menlo Park while getting that degree, then moved back to Texas to get my master’s in engineering. My father was a wildcatter, and it was from him that I learned the business, so let me reassure you, Mr. Baron, I can tell the difference between an injection hose and a drill pipe. I’ve worked on both drilling rigs and production platforms, but if you still insist only men can be engineers, perhaps we should call your sister Lizzie, the one who hired me.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment, and then all he could utter was “Oh, crap.”

Her brows lifted, her extraordinary blue eyes scanning him up and down, her derision clearly evident. “Still want me to strip?”

He almost said yes, but he could tell that he was in enough trouble as it is. “I take it you’re J.C.?”

“I am.”

Why hadn’t Lizzie told him? Then again, why would she? Lizzie had her hands full between helping to run Baron Energies and being newly engaged, not to mention pregnant. The gender of their engineer wasn’t exactly something you discussed during the course of a normal conversation, especially when that sister was perturbed with you because you weren’t pulling your weight.

“I should apologize.”

“You think?”

He almost laughed. “You’ve got to admit.” He pointed a palm toward her dress. “You don’t exactly look like an engineer.”

She glanced down, then back up. “I have a meeting with our corporate attorney after this. The jacket that goes over this is in the truck, but I don’t generally wear one when I’m out of the office and it’s nearly ninety degrees outside.”

She was right. They were out in a field, on a plot of land his dad had bought years ago and that they’d just recently received the EPA’s approval to develop for oil. Nothing but flat pasture as far as the eye could see with a few trees here and there and prickly pear cacti dotting the landscape. He had already begun to sweat, but not because of the heat.

“Okay, I see your point.”

“Great, can we get started, then? I have to be in town by five.”

Which was probably why she drove her personal vehicle. She was going straight home after her meeting. Damn. Could he have gotten it more wrong?

“Sure, what have you got for me?”

She leaned away from him, her eyes scanning him once again. Whatever she saw must have satisfied her. “Well, as you can see, your dad marked the preliminary drill site.”

He glanced at a wooden stick protruding from the ground, one with a neon strip of tape on it and the only indication that something would happen there shortly.

“X marks the spot,” he said with a smile.

She ignored his attempt to lighten the mood. “Actually, the presence of reservoir rock affiliated with some uplift erosion there and there—” she pointed toward a slight bulge in the land “—is what marks the spot, but what do I know?”

“I’m guessing a lot more than me,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. Go on.”

He might not have spent a whole lot of time working at Baron Energies, but he knew the oil business well enough to recognize an expert, and as she walked him around the job site, pointing toward where they would drill for water and where she thought the reserve pit should go, he admitted she knew her stuff. He’d cut his teeth on rigs, had spent most of his summers working for his dad. When he was fifteen he’d been part of the biggest oil strike on company record. Listening to her speak was oddly...titillating—as if he were in a foreign country and discovered someone who spoke his own language. A sexy someone. Someone with a mouth that drew his attention over and over—

“...questions?”

He realized she waited for him to answer, didn’t know what she’d just asked, and so said the first thing that came to mind. “I think we’ve covered everything.” He added a smile.

She stared at him like a teacher who’d caught one of her students with a comic book between the pages of a math textbook. “No, we have not covered everything. I just asked you about the access road.”

For the first time in a long, long while he felt his cheeks color. “What about it?”

At some point she must have grabbed a tablet from her truck. Jet didn’t remember her doing it. In between watching her mouth and debating with himself on whether or not she had a boyfriend, he’d been a bit...distracted.

“If you’re not here to play ball, just go on home.” She flipped the cover of her tablet closed. “Go back to rodeo riding or climbing rocks or BASE jumping or dropping out of helicopters or whatever thrill-seeking adventure you have scheduled this weekend. God forbid you should actually work for a living.”

So she’d heard about his hobbies. Interesting. Except, he wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

“I work.”

“At what?”

“I rodeo full-time.”

“That’s not a real job.”

Actually, it was, but he could tell he’d never make her believe it.

“You’re right.” He swiped a hand over his hair. “It’s not a desk job, and this isn’t my usual vocation. At least, it hasn’t been for a long while. But with my dad out of commission, I was told I needed to help you manage this project and, believe it or not, I have the experience to do exactly that. It’s just gonna take me a while to get up to speed.”

“Then maybe you should pay attention.”

“I am.”

She stared at him as if she could crack his skull open and see inside, and then, finding nothing of interest, shook her own head. “All right, fine. Let’s talk about the road.” She eyed him skeptically. “Again.” She flipped open her tablet once more, sidled up next to him and pointed at the screen. Jet noticed she indicated to a plot map.

Man, she smells nice.

“As you can see, the most direct route would be this way.”

Like a flower garden.

“But that would mean building a bridge over the wash.”

Was it shampoo? Or perfume? Or maybe body spray.

“As you know, bridges are expensive.”

Why hadn’t he seen her at the office before?

Because you’re never at the office.

“It requires engineering and an EIR.”

It was true, he rarely made more than an appearance at their downtown office, and it drove his family nuts. His father had never really minded his commitment to rodeo before, but lately he’d been dropping hint after hint that Jet needed to play a bigger part in Baron Energies, especially since Brock’s injury. Stupid old fool had climbed on a bull at a seniors’ rodeo and damn near broken his neck. Thankfully, it’d just been a broken leg, but he’d been told to stay off his feet and forced to hand over control of Baron Energies to Jet’s sister Lizzie. His father had been as subtle as a brick ever since, but his sister’s ever increasing girth had sealed the deal. She’d be out on maternity leave soon and his dad had made no bones about Jet stepping in to fill her shoes while she was out of commission. Of course, if Jet had known J.C. was there this whole time, he might have come on board earlier....

“How long have you worked for us?”

She slammed the tablet closed, shook her head in obvious disgust, and said, “I’ll have my assistant type up a report and leave it on your desk. I assume you have an office, yes?”

He didn’t know. He assumed he did. “Of course.” He’d make sure he did.

“Great.” She turned away before he could say so much as goodbye.

“Wait!”

She kept walking.

Somehow he managed to catch up and then wedge himself between her and her vehicle. “Look, I really am paying attention.”

She released a disdain-filled huff.

“I’m listening to every word. Don’t build the bridge. It makes more sense to cut a road coming in from the south. Asphalt is cheaper than steel and an Environmental Impact Report will take months. If it means the laborers will have to drive a few extra minutes to get to the job site, oh, well.”

She lifted a brow. A blond brow. Must be her natural hair color, unless she dyed them....

Focus.

“Pretty sure that’s what you were going to say, which is why I asked the question. You’re good at your job and I’m just a little flabbergasted, is all. You’re young, maybe a couple years younger than me, yet you already have a masters? It took me five years to get my bachelor’s degree in business management. Of course, I was competing on the PRCA circuit full-time, but still. You must have started college in preschool.”

She clutched her tablet as if she wanted to hit him over the head with it. “I was home schooled,” she admitted. “I started college when I was sixteen.”

Sixteen!

“Did my first two years of college from home through a university extension program. Transferred at eighteen to Berkeley. Graduated when I was twenty with a bachelor’s in geology. Spent the next two years working on my masters in engineering. I’m twenty-four and I was hired by Baron Energies right after Lizzie was put in charge, which is probably why I was hired. She understands that a woman can do a man’s job.”

Yes, his sister did. And J.C. was the same age as him, which made it easier to do the math. “So what have you been doing for the past two years?”

“Excuse me?”

“If it took you two years to get your masters that means you graduated when you were twenty-two. I’m just curious what you’ve been doing for the past two years.”

It was as if he’d turned her into a block of ice, or at least her eyes. “My point is, I’m qualified to do the job.” And her words were the frosty equivalent of “it’s none of your business.”

Interesting.

“My sister wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t qualified.”

“Your sister strikes me as highly intelligent.”

Unlike you.

She didn’t say the words, but he could have sworn he heard them. It didn’t offend him. Not in the least. He liked that she didn’t give a fig that he was Jet Baron, Brock Baron’s son, heir apparent to Baron Energies—if his dad had anything to say about it. His last name meant he had his choice of women. And if his last name didn’t work, he could usually charm the pants off the opposite sex with a simple smile. Not J. C. Marks.

“What does the J stand for, anyway?”

None of your business, her eyes said.

“Just-ina leave me alone?” he quipped.

She stared at him.

“I don’t Juan-ita anything to do with you?” he added.

She crossed her arms. She held the tablet in front of her as though it was some kind of shield.

“You’re a Jac-queline-ass?”

The arms unfolded.

“Me,” he clarified. “I’m the Jac-queline-ass.”

“It stands for Jasmine. Jasmine Caroline Marks, and if we’re through here, I have an appointment.”

He could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere—and he kind of liked it. Challenges were what made the world go around, he thought, although he’d never let it get any further than a flirtation. The last thing he needed was his dad breathing down his neck over a sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Sure. Okay. I think we can call it a day.”

“Great.” She gave him a smile nearly as frosty as a summer soda. “I’ll have a cost analysis ready for you in the morning.”

“Why don’t we meet for breakfast? There’s this terrific little coffee shop right down the street from the office.”

“I’ll see you at the office.”

“But the pastries there are terrific. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, though. I’ll listen while I chew.”

“How does eight-thirty sound?”

“I don’t think well on an empty stomach.” He really didn’t. He was one of those “eats a truckload of food” kind of guys, or so his family claimed.

She headed back to her vehicle. “Then eat before our meeting.”

“I’d rather eat with you.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she called, opening the door to her vehicle. He watched her slip inside, grab her cell phone from somewhere, check the display, then tuck it back away.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, reaching for her door to slam it closed.

“Looking forward to it.”

She started her truck.

“Damn,” Jet muttered. Maybe going back to a desk job wouldn’t be so bad after all.


Chapter Two (#ulink_1fc31689-46c6-53d3-b951-23daa4bae3ad)

Handsome, arrogant, spoiled son of a gun.

Jet Baron.

Jasmine pointed her truck toward a barely there strip of road, telling herself to forget the man in her rearview mirror.

Why don’t we meet for breakfast?

Okay, so she could admit he was beyond gorgeous. And okay, so she hadn’t been prepared for the walking mass of masculine virility that was Jet Baron. Seriously. No wonder he’d been voted bachelor of the year two years running by Dallas magazine. The man was serious heartthrob material. So what?

You’re going to have to work with that walking mass of male virility.

The back end of her truck kicked out. She gasped, then took her foot off the gas. The flat, sun-baked Texas pasture stretched out around her like something from the Old West, nothing but open space for miles, but if she wasn’t careful, she might wrap her truck around one of the rare trees that dotted the landscape.

Why did he have to be so good-looking?

And why had everything inside her frozen the moment she’d realized who was behind the wheel? She’d seen pictures of him before. Of course she’d seen them. Who in the business hadn’t heard of Jet Baron? And he’d thought she was a stripper. A stripper.

It had taken nearly a year to find a job in the male-dominated industry. A year. And in the end it’d been a woman who had hired her. She wasn’t going to blow it because, miraculously, there appeared to be one latent hormone floating around her sex-starved body.

Sex starved?

Yes, she admitted to herself, turning onto the main road, a long stretch of blacktop so straight it ended in an arrowhead. It had been years. Unfortunately, Jet Baron stirred urges within her—urges she hadn’t felt since becoming a mother to two adorable, wonderful twins. She was a single working mother who didn’t have time to eat at a stupid coffee shop, much less get involved with a man.

She was still unsettled the next morning as she walked through the glass entry of Baron Energies. They were on the upper floors of a downtown high-rise. The receptionist, whose name she couldn’t remember, smiled as she walked by.

“Good morning,” Jasmine said hurriedly.

She’d overslept, not surprising since one of the twins had an earache and the other had decided 1:00 a.m. was the perfect time to start jumping up and down on her bed. Lord, she felt like the walking dead. Somehow she’d gotten Brooke’s breakfast smeared on her dress. The oatmeal had left a white stain on the black fabric of her dress that she hoped was covered by her suit jacket, and she had a sinking suspicion that a Cheerio—part of Gwen’s breakfast—had fallen down her bra. The moment she passed the reception area she paused, trying to angle her head to see down the swooped neckline.

“Ah, here she is.”

The blood drained from Jasmine’s face when she looked up. Lizzie Baron. She stood next to the conference room, her dark hair pulled back from her face, a soft blue dress hugging the gentle swell of her pregnant belly. Damn. Just what she needed. The boss.

But she wasn’t alone.

Next to her stood a man on crutches and she’d seen enough company literature to know who it was. Double damn.

Brock Baron.

“Dad, this is the new engineer I was telling you about.” Elizabeth motioned with her hands, a warm smile on her face, which Jasmine appreciated given that she’d been caught coming in late. “Graduated summa cum laude from Berkeley. Interned at the USGS headquarters. We’re real fortunate to have her.”

The man who’d founded Baron Energies and built it into a multimillion-dollar corporation might be on crutches, but he was still imposing. Tall and slim, his gray hair was slicked back from his head. He had blue eyes and a gaze that scanned her from head to toe, and not in a good way. She could tell there was something about her appearance that he didn’t like. Had he spotted the oatmeal stain?

“This is J. C. Marks?”

And she knew.

Just as Jet Baron had been shocked by her gender yesterday, so, too, was Mr. Baron.

“This is her.” She heard the edge of false bravado in Elizabeth’s voice.

“Hello, Mr. Baron.” She put on her best and biggest smile and moved forward. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my father that I feel like we’ve already met.”

He adjusted his crutches so he could shake her hand. “Who’s your father, honey?”

Honey. In Texas the word was used by men as much as miss or ma’am, but she had a feeling Brock had used it to make a point to his daughter.

“James ‘Mad Hatter’ Marks.”

She’d used her dad’s nickname on purpose, and just as she’d expected, one of Mr. Baron’s gray brows shot up. He peered at her intently. “Huh.” He seemed to relax a bit. “You look like him.”

She turned up the wattage of her smile. “Thank you, sir. My momma always said my daddy was a handsome man.”

“Your momma was Caroline Carter, then.”

She felt a familiar pang. Her mom had died when she was young, but not a day went by when she didn’t think about her or miss her. It was the same way with her dad.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good woman, Caroline.”

Touched that he remembered her, Jasmine swallowed back the knot of emotion his words had evoked. “Thank you, sir.”

“You haven’t seen Jet, have you?” Lizzie stepped forward. “We were just in his office and he wasn’t there.”

Big surprise. She didn’t say the words out loud, but she was thinking them. She had a feeling Lizzie was thinking them, too.

“No. I haven’t, but we’re supposed to meet this morning so I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Listen to you making excuses for the boss’s son. Clearly, you’re a sucker for a handsome face.

“I guess we’ll keep on looking, then.”

But Jet’s sister didn’t look hopeful. Who could blame her?

The office was a bit of a maze. The conference room to her right overlooked the Dallas skyline. Opposite, in the interior, were offices, including the office of the CEO. One of her coworkers had told her that Brock’s office was up front near the reception desk. He liked to eavesdrop on the people who called his company, and he had a habit of going out to the reception area and greeting visitors, even if they weren’t there to see him. She suspected he was something of a control freak.

“If you see him, let him know we’re looking for him. Come on, Dad. Let’s get you back to your office so you can sit back down.”

Brock grumbled something about overprotective women, but he nodded at her as he passed. Lizzie Baron stood slightly behind him and so Mr. Baron didn’t see the thank-you she silently mouthed in J.C.’s direction, although why Lizzie would thank her she had no idea. She’d been late to work for goodness’ sake. She should be apologizing to Lizzie.

Her second surprise of the day sat in her office. She drew up short at the sight of a pair of dusty, worn work boots resting on the edge of her desk, a sheaf of papers in his lap, one of them held up in front of him.

“Your dad’s looking for you.”

The boots slammed down. He about came out of his chair. “What?”

“Your dad. He’s here. I bumped into him near the conference room.”

He leaned back again. “Oh, great.”

“You might want to let them know you’re here. I have a feeling they both thought you were playing hooky.”

“Of course they think that. And just because of that, I think I’ll make them wait.” He put his boots back up.

“Get your feet off my desk.”

Those eyes. Those damn green eyes. They didn’t just twinkle, they seemed to...wink at her.

“My, my, my. We’re in a bad mood.”

Yeah, she sort of was. She hadn’t expected to meet the CEO of the company this morning. The man was as sharp as a tack, and while Lizzie didn’t seem to mind her being late, she was certain Brock Baron had taken note of it. Plus, she’d been hoping to fish that damn Cheerio out of her bra once in the confines of her office.

“What’s the matter? Late night out with the boyfriend?”

She jerked her chair out from beneath her desk, although if she were honest with herself, she was almost relieved to have exchanged her twins for the overgrown child sitting across from her. He was much easier to handle. Despite having Brock Baron as a father, Jet was probably just playing at working until he could get back to his carefree life. Oh, yeah, Lizzie Baron had filled her in on the gritty details yesterday before their meeting. It seemed her brother had been ordered back to work. With Lizzie pregnant, the family hoped Jet would take over her duties. As if that would happen. She would stake her favorite pair of pj’s that he wouldn’t last two weeks. “Late night putting together that report I promised you, which I see you received in your email this morning.” She tried to pull together the ends of her frazzled nerves. First Brock, now Jet. The bitch of it was, the report she’d put together probably wouldn’t even be read by Jet for all that he appeared to be thumbing through it.

“Yeah, thanks.” He glanced up and finally let loose the wink she’d seen in his eyes. “Appreciate the hard work. Looks like we’re ready to break ground.”

Something about that wink made her want to grind her teeth. It was as if he knew how good-looking he was. As if he thought he could cram pencils up his nose and still charm the pants off her, or the panty hose as the case may be. This morning he wore a white polo shirt with the Baron Energies logo across the left breast. It made his skin, already bronzed by the sun, appear even darker. His green eyes were framed by dark lashes. He looked like his father, she realized, although the eyes were completely different.

“Not until we find a better price on the aggregate.” She flipped open her laptop. “I was told the supplier is a friend of your father, but he doesn’t seem like a friend to me.”

Maybe she should mention her concerns to Mr. Baron himself now that he was in the office. Then again, maybe she should leave well enough alone. More than likely her presence in his office had come as a shock. Well, her female presence. He probably wouldn’t welcome hearing her ideas on one of his projects. Not yet, at least. Not until she proved she was every bit as good at her job as a man.

“Yeah, I saw that. Five hundred a load seemed exorbitant.”

Her fingers froze on the keys, and she had to work to keep her mouth from dropping open. “I was going to send out an RFP.”

“No reason to do that. Let me make a few calls. Pretty sure I can get a better deal.”

Clearly, he had read the report. “I’m also not very happy with the cost of the drilling crew.”

“That I can explain.” He set the sheaf of papers down on her desk. Jasmine tried hard to keep from gawking at the new and more serious Jet. “McCoy Drilling is owned by one of my dad’s oldest friends. We all know he pads the numbers, but Dad doesn’t mind. When my dad was younger, Oscar helped him through some tough times and my dad’s been supporting him ever since.”

Not only had he read it, he’d absorbed it, too. And he knew something about costing a project if he’d noted where they could cut corners. She leaned back in surprise.

It was like discovering the high heels you’d been wearing all day were dark blue instead of black, and you’d been traipsing around town in a black dress and blue shoes. She couldn’t quite reconcile the image of Jet the dilettante with Jet the diligent.

“Yes, well, family friend or no, I would still like to send out a few RFPs to other drilling companies.”

“Sure.” His smile grew. “Never hurts to try, but my dad can be pretty stubborn.”

Based on her initial impression of the man, she wouldn’t be surprised. “Duly noted.”

His gaze slid past her to the photos on her bookcase, and Jasmine immediately tensed. She tried to move sideways to block his view. Too late.

“Are those your nieces?”

No, no, no. She didn’t want to answer questions about Gwen and Brooke. Not today. Not when she was so tired she felt as if she needed to keep her eyes open with Scotch tape and when she was completely off-kilter because of the man sitting across from her.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Mr. Baron?”

“Are they twins?”

She resisted the urge to rest her head on her arms and groan. Where was a restart button when you needed one?

“I’d like to meet again in a couple days, if you don’t mind. I was hoping to forward our final numbers to your sister by the end of the week.”

“Good Lord, are they yours?”

“If there’s nothing else—”

“They are yours, aren’t they?”

He appeared genuinely filled with consternation, and yet also interested in the photo of the girls on Santa’s lap. And not the least bit repulsed, which surprised the heck out of her for some reason. She didn’t figure him for a family guy.

“Yes, they’re twins.”

His gaze dropped to her left hand and Jasmine resisted the urge to tuck it in her lap. Too late. He’d spotted the ringless finger, too.

“Divorced?”

“Mr. Baron, as much as I’d like to sit here and chat about my personal life, I have a million things to do today, so if we’re through here...”

She stood.

He leaned back and put his boots on her desk again. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Her knickers in a what? “Get your feet off my desk.”

“Actually, I think the desk is owned by my family, and I’m just curious. You don’t want to talk about your personal life, that’s fine, but you may want to sit back down because we have some more things to go over.”

What in heaven’s name could he have to discuss with her? Plus, she just plain didn’t want to sit back down. She wanted to order him from her office, but she couldn’t do that. Technically, he was her boss and, technically, as project manager, he might have something to contribute. Goodness, he might actually be doing his job.

“What do you need?”

She thought he might insist on her answering him, but he seemed to take the hint. “You have an error on page twenty.”

She had a— “What?”

“You have 20K on your cost analysis to dig and line the pits, but you put 10K in the projected budget.”

She flipped to the page in question, certain he was wrong, but—nope—there it was in black-and-white. She’d grabbed a bad number.

“And then I don’t see the costs for cement. You did a cost analysis for the pad, but you didn’t pick up that cost in the final budget.”

She scanned the page, her cheeks suddenly as flaming hot as a natural-gas flare. She scanned a column and discovered he was right. She’d failed to include the cost for cement. It wasn’t a huge expense. Compared to the others, it was a drop in the bucket, but the fact that she’d forgotten...

“Mr. Baron—”

“Jet,” he corrected.

“Jet, I don’t know what to say. I went over those numbers three times. I was certain I’d grabbed everything, but clearly I didn’t.”

“Relax. These things happen. That’s my job, to look over the engineering costs, combine them with labor and materials and other expenses, and to make sure everyone is on the same page. We’ll just change them before we submit the proposal to my sister for final approval and we’re good to go.”

She shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get him the numbers. She should have just taken her time, sent them to him later, but she was so tired, she honestly didn’t know if she’d have caught them later on, either.

“You look exhausted.”

Her head snapped up. She tried to control her expression so that he didn’t see how close to the mark his words had hit. Didn’t work. He tipped his head to the side, and all Jasmine could think was what a waste of a good-looking man. Too bad he couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one thing at a time—including his private life based on what she’d heard. Still, someone out there would likely try to snatch him up, if for no other reason than his last name. She, however, would steer clear.

As if he would ever find a single mother of two attractive, she thought. Just the fact that he’d noticed how tired she was said it all.

“Yeah, well, my life is kind of crazy right now.”

“All the more reason for you to join me on a little field trip today. Guaranteed to perk you up.”

A field trip?

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Since you’re new to the company, I thought I’d take you on a tour of our facilities.”

She didn’t trust the look on his face, nor the gleam in his eyes. “Mr. Baron—”

“Jet,” he corrected again.

“Jet,” she said with what she hoped was a gracious smile. “I’m really busy today. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to work.”

“Sure it is, and since I’m supposed to be taking over as boss, I insist.”

She blinked a few times as she tried to gather her thoughts. “And since I’m an employee of Baron Energies, it’s my duty to tell you that if you take me away from my desk today, it will put me behind.”

“You can catch up later.” He stood.

She felt her mouth drop open. The man really didn’t know how to take no for an answer. “Your sister asked for my opinion on another upcoming project.”

“My sister can wait.” He smiled. The man was like a handsome male feline, one with gorgeous black-and-gold coloring and emerald-green eyes and who looked upon the world as if he owned it, tomcat tail straight in the air. “As our newest engineer, you need to familiarize yourself with our assets, unless, of course, you’ve already had a tour.”

She didn’t answer.

“Didn’t think so.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Meet me out in front in an hour. I’ll change the numbers and forward this to my sister.”

“Wait!” she called as he moved to leave her office. “I can change the numbers.”

“No need. I’ll do it. It’s my job.”

“Where did you want to take me?”

He smiled. “I’m a helicopter pilot and twice a year I do an aerial check for HCFs. I’m sure you know the drill.”

She did, indeed, know the drill. An aerial survey of hydrocarbon fallout. The EPA mandated such inspections. She was just surprised he was the one that did them. Sure, she’d known he was a pilot, but she assumed that meant he flitted from this rodeo to that.

“How often do you fly?”

The smile grew, catlike green eyes glowing. “Any chance I get.” He bounced up on his toes like a teenage boy. “See you in an hour.”

And he was gone. She sank down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. Working with Jet Baron wouldn’t be easy. Not only did she doubt his commitment to Baron Energies, at least judging by the corporate rumor mill, but there was one other little problem.

She was having a hard time focusing, and not because she was tired, but because his sparkling eyes made her toes curl and because his boyish smile had made her wish, for the briefest of moments, that a man like Jet might find a single mother of twins attractive.

That was the biggest problem of all.


Chapter Three (#ulink_226134fb-b3e0-528f-ac68-ac1191734c29)

Jet felt like a kid on Christmas day....

Right up until the moment his dad strolled into the office. Okay, more like hobbled.

“There you are.” The tone of his dad’s voice was one he recognized from his youth when he’d been off riding one of his horses instead of taking out the trash. “Been looking for you.”

Jet leaned back in his chair. The thing about his dad was that you couldn’t let him see you sweat. If you did, he’d pounce. “So I heard.”

His dad clutched both his crutches in one hand before moving a chair out so he could sit.

“Here.” Jet shot up. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Brock gave him what Jet called the Look. He could stop a kid in his tracks with a single glance. “I’m injured, not old.”

“No one’s calling you old.” Jet slowly sank into one of the conference room chairs he’d pilfered last night. He’d discovered he had an office when he’d come back to Baron Energies after his meeting with J.C. Two side chairs and a desk had greeted him. Jet had no idea where the desk chair had gone. He’d wondered if Elizabeth had hidden it on purpose. Probably not, though. She’d turned into a regular professional businesswoman. Frankly he didn’t know if he should feel pride or pity. Lizzie had always liked to be in control. The fact that she could do so while winning Daddy’s approval was just the icing on the cake, or so he surmised.

“Where were you?”

The third degree. He should have expected that. And he should have expected a visit from his old man this morning, too. Checking up on him. “I was in a meeting.”

“With who?” Blue eyes clearly doubted his words.

“With our new engineer.” He glanced at his laptop when his email binged. Lizzie. She was warning him their dad was on the prowl. He quickly typed the words Too late before turning his attention back to his dad. “We were going over the numbers for the project.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Something about the way his dad said the words put Jet on alert. “I was.”

Silence. Brock adjusted his crutches again. Jet waited.

“She’s good-looking.”

Oh, crap. He should have expected this, too. “She’s an exceptional engineer.”

He didn’t know that for sure, not really, but he’d studied the report she’d sent him and from what he could tell, she’d covered all the bases, despite her errors. He could tell he’d surprised her with his knowledge of the industry. The fact was, he’d grown up around wells and drilling. He might not have a masters degree on paper, but he sure as heck did in experience. His father knew that. It was why he was being groomed to take over for Lizzie. The thing was, he liked his life just fine. He helped out at Baron Energies when he could, but this full-time stuff wasn’t really his thing.

“She’s going to be a distraction to the men on-site.”

Jet kept his expression neutral, but he was surprised. For someone who professed to be a man with vision, Brock sure seemed stuck in the past.

“Believe me, she’ll keep them at arm’s length.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

Jet glanced at the time. He was supposed to meet J.C. in fifteen minutes but he suspected if he mentioned that to his dad, he’d be treated to another lecture.

“She’s a professional, Dad. Even if I was interested in her, which I’m not, she wouldn’t give a man like me the time of day.”

She’d made her disdain for him obvious. That might have something to do with them getting off on the wrong foot, but that wasn’t the only thing he saw in her eyes. She was wary of him. Wary of men in general, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Did you know she’s the daughter of Jimmy Marks?”

No. He hadn’t known that. “She mentioned growing up in the oil fields.”

“Best wildcatter I knew. Crazy son of a bitch. Can’t believe he had such a pretty daughter. Then again, the girl’s mother was a looker.”

“She’s not my type.”

“Just keep your Johnson in your pants.”

“Dad!”

“I mean it, Jet. You need to focus. The company needs you now more than ever.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Just as long as you stay here.”

“Is that it? Is that all you wanted to say to me?”

His dad’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

Whatever was on his dad’s mind, Jet could see it bothered him. He wondered what it could be. His heart jumped. Was it his health?

“What is it, Dad?”

He saw his dad take a deep breath. “I need your opinion on something.”

Well, stop the press. Pigs must surely be flying. Snowballs were being hurled from hell. Rain fell upside down. His dad never asked for his thoughts. Never.

“Your sister Carly came to me a few weeks back asking about your mother.”

“Which one?” It wasn’t a sarcastic question. Brock had married three times. Once to his birth mom, a woman named Delia, then to Peggy, who’d died when he was fifteen and then to his current wife, Julieta. Frankly, it was Peggy that he mostly thought of as Mom. Julieta was a wonderful woman, but she was more like a friend.

“The one who gave birth to you.”

Jet leaned even farther back, placing his hands behind his head as he did so. “What’d she want to know?”

“She’s trying to find her.”

Jet’s hands dropped. “What? Why?”

“I think it has to do with Lizzie being pregnant. Or maybe it’s the whole engagement thing. It’s got the girls thinking about motherhood and having babies or something. I don’t know.”

But it bothered his old man, Jet could tell, enough that he was coming to his son and asking for...something.

“What do you want me to do?”

His dad didn’t answer for a moment, but what Jet found most telling was the way Brock’s gaze never met his own.

“Dad?” he prompted.

“Just keep an eye on the situation for me. See if you can find out what’s going on and what they know.”

“You want me to spy.”

That got his dad’s attention. “No. Nothing like that.” He reached for his crutches. “I just want to know what they know, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you just ask Carly?”

“Because you know what she’s like. Once she gets the bit between her teeth, she’s a runaway horse. If she thinks it bothers me that she’s looking for Delia, she’ll wonder why. That’ll get her dander up and, more important, her curiosity rolling. She won’t let it rest.”

“What’s wrong with her being curious?”

Was that a momentary glint of guilt he saw in his dad’s eyes? What did the old man have to feel guilty about?

“Nothing wrong with it. I just don’t want her getting hurt. That woman did enough damage to our family.”

That wasn’t it. Jet could tell there was far more to the story than that.

His father stood up. Jet watched, wondered, pondered a bit, but in the end, he admitted now he was curious. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

And now gratitude. Would wonders never cease?

His dad put his crutches beneath his arm. “And stay away from that J.C. woman.”

“Her name’s Jasmine and she’s the engineer on the project I’m managing. I can’t exactly ignore her.”

His dad paused by the door to his office, his reflection projected back to Jet thanks to the glass wall along the front of his office. “You know what I mean.”

He did, indeed, know what he meant. Didn’t mean he would listen to him, but he knew.

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER, Jet couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he exited the elevator amid a crowd of fellow office dwellers. It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and if he were honest with himself, he itched to get on a horse.

Those days are over.

No, he silently promised himself. He wasn’t going to give up rodeo. And he was getting to do something he loved today. Fly.

But as Jet waited for Jasmine to arrive in front of Baron Energies’ corporate offices, he knew he kidded himself. It wasn’t just the thought of flying, it was the thought of spending time with Jasmine.

Showing off.

Well, yes, there was that, too.

She was as prickly as a pear cactus, but as his father had noted, as pretty as a Texas bluebonnet, and she sure looked as if she needed a little fun. As it happened, fun was his middle name.

“Let’s get this over with.”

He hadn’t seen her approach. When he turned, he admitted she didn’t appear too pleased to be getting away from the office. For half a second he debated whether or not he should let her off the hook. Something stopped him, something that had to do with the exhaustion he saw in her eyes. She struck him as the type who would keep going and going until she dropped, or ended up in the hospital. Twins. That couldn’t be easy.

“No need to sound so enthusiastic.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She’d changed, too, though he had no idea where she’d gotten the jeans and white button-down shirt. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t admit he liked the dress better, and her long, sexy legs.

“How long is this going to take?” she asked as he held the door of his truck open for her. He’d parked outside their corporate headquarters situated in downtown Dallas and conveniently located just a few blocks from a DART station. They occupied the uppermost floors, and Jet had the oddest sensation of being watched as he stood there.

Dad?

He glanced up, wondering if both Brock and Lizzie stared down at him. He wouldn’t be surprised. He’d sent her an email about his outing today, and while it was a task he undertook regularly, the inspection wasn’t due for another month. She hadn’t replied. Then again, she’d probably been hijacked by their father the moment Brock had left Jet’s office.

“Not more than an hour or two. Our holdings aren’t that extensive.”

He closed the door before she could form some kind of protest or express her displeasure at being taken away from her work. He had to wait a moment for traffic to pass on the busy street in front of their offices. When he pulled open the driver’s door a moment later she appeared to be checking messages on her phone. Probably their corporate email.

“Do you ever, I don’t know, relax?”

The glare she shot him was like that of an impatient wife, one who’d just been told by her husband to sit down and take a break from chores when she had a million things to do, all of which were being done by her and not her husband. He’d seen that look a time or two before on his own stepmother’s face when dealing with Brock.

“I have two kids and a full-time job in a demanding field. When, exactly, would I find time to relax?”

He drew back at the sharpness of her tone. She must have seen his reaction because she closed her eyes, sank back against the seat and let out a sigh.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I’m a little sleep deprived. Makes me cranky.”

“Me, too.”

She opened her eyes again, staring out at the high-rise buildings they passed between, some made of concrete, others made of glass, all of them with people walking out in front. He heard her sigh.

Inside the cab, sunlight flickered through the trees that sprouted up from the sidewalk here and there. The streets were wide, some of the sidewalks made of red brick, but he doubted she noticed such details. Honestly, he would bet what she was really thinking about was a nap.

“Do you have any help at home?”

It was the closest he could come to asking if she was seeing anybody without sounding nosy, or like he was trying to pick her up. Contrary to what his dad might think, he had no intention of getting involved with a woman who had twins. No thanks. Not his cup of tea. Still, he felt sorry for her, watched her closely to see if she would bristle, but she didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head, her ponytail shifting over one shoulder and from nowhere came the urge to brush it back, to soothe her brow.

Jet abruptly faced forward.

“I used to have some help.”

Her words surprised him because he figured she’d clam up like she always did.

“The twins’ grandparents are still alive and they’ve been a big support, but engineering jobs don’t grow on trees and so when I was offered the position at Baron Energies, I took it.”

The twins’ grandparents, meaning her girls’ father’s parents. He knew her own dad was dead. Her mother, too. Or so he surmised from the way his dad had made it sound. Did that mean she was all alone? What had happened to the twins’ dad?

“I take it the father isn’t in the picture.”

They were at a stoplight and so he happened to glance at her just in time to see her flinch, almost as if she’d just had a sharp pain, and maybe she had.

“No,” was all she said.

Something in her past caused her pain, and he had a feeling it was grief. Sure, he knew some men were irresponsible jerks and that it was completely plausible that she’d been ditched by the father of her twins, but he didn’t think so. There’d been something in her eyes, her remarkable eyes, that he suddenly realized were tinged by a perpetual sadness.

“So who watches your twins when you’re at work?”

She seemed to snap out of a momentary trance. He noticed how long her lashes were when she blinked.

“I hired someone. A woman in my condominium complex. She was looking to make some extra money and I didn’t want to be shuffling my girls between their home and a day-care center. She comes to my place every morning.”

“I bet you wish she would come in the middle of the night sometimes, too.”

She glanced at him in surprise, but then something remarkable happened, something that left him feeling as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

She smiled.

“You have no idea.”


Chapter Four (#ulink_90a42139-6356-51a7-be36-f55867d38ba1)

She’d revealed too much, Jasmine thought a few minutes later. She should have kept things impersonal. Chatted about Baron Energies’ last quarterly report or something. Instead, she’d treated him like a Catholic priest, someone to confess all her dirty little secrets to, and that was the stupidest thing in the world to do. He was the boss’s son. A man who reported back to the big man himself, not to mention his sister. The last thing she needed was for word to get out that she was stretched too thin, that she couldn’t cope, that she’d made mistakes.

“Ever been up in a helicopter before?”

Her stomach dropped.

“No.”

To be honest, she hadn’t given the coming ride much thought other than how much it would interfere with her day.

“You want the vanilla ride, then? Or the Disneyland version?”

“Explain Disneyland version?”

He smiled, and Jasmine thought he looked like a kid standing in front of an amusement park. This was the second time she’d seen him with mussed hair. He trimmed the black strands shorter on the sides than on the top and it appeared he frequently ran his fingers through it. If it weren’t for the strong jaw and the curve of his masculine lips, she’d think him younger than her, and those green eyes had laugh lines stretching out from the corner. He was tan and well-groomed and so good-looking there was no way he didn’t know the effect he had on women.

Like you?

No, she told herself firmly. Not like me.

“Well, we could fly straight to our destination, or we could take the scenic route.”

“Why do I have the feeling the scenic route entails a lot more ups and downs?”

The lines stretching from the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled. “Because you’d be right.”

“I see.”

“You don’t get airsick, do you?”

This was beginning to sound more and more ominous. “No.”

“You like scary rides?”

Yes. A long time ago. She’d lived life on the edge. You didn’t date a hellcat without having a wild streak of your own. Alas, motherhood and loss had cured her of that.

His face fell. “I can see by your face that you’d like me to take it easy.”

“No.” The word shot out of her before she could stop it. Something in his eyes had challenged her, and that should scare the crap out of her. Darren had challenged her, too, and look where that had gotten her.

“No?” he asked, as if sensing her doubts.

“I don’t mind a little excitement.”

She shouldn’t have said the words. The way he glanced at her, quickly, that wink back in his eyes.

“Oh, really?”

She blushed. “I meant I’m not as uptight as I look.” This was going from bad to worse, so she did the only thing she could think of. She changed the subject. “What did your dad want?”

As a buzzkill, the words worked perfectly. He frowned, and somehow she knew what he was thinking. “He was checking up on me.”

“You mean, making sure you were at work.”

He glanced at her quickly. “Something like that.”

“You’re not very happy about being forced into a day job, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

Don’t look at him. Easier to focus that way. “Your...lack of interest in Baron Energies is well-known.”

“See, that’s where everyone’s wrong.” He smoothly merged onto I-35. “It’s not that I’m not interested. I love our family business. I just don’t see the point of devoting my entire life to it like my dad, at least not while I’m young. I have my whole life to do that.”

Must be nice to have that kind of attitude. She’d had to work her entire life to get to where she was. As a woman she’d had to do things better, be smarter, work harder. Lizzie Baron had been the first oil executive to take her seriously and yet here she was with her brother, a man who didn’t want what had been handed to him on a silver platter, and she couldn’t help but feel a small burn of resentment. What would it be like to never have to worry? To have such a huge support group that you knew you’d always be taken care of? She’d left behind her only support, Darren’s parents, and they were aging help at that. Even so, she would miss them—did miss them—terribly. They were the only family she had.

“I don’t have my whole life ahead of me,” she heard herself say. “I only have the here and the now.”

Only after she said the words did she wonder why in the name of heaven she’d made the confession. That’s what happened when the only company you kept were twin girls. Girlfriends? What were those? Any fledgling friendships she might have formed once she’d graduated college were toast now that she’d moved. As she sat there thinking about it, she admitted she’d never felt more alone in her life than in that moment sitting there with Dallas magazine’s bachelor of the year next to her.

He stared at her, she realized. Analyzed her. Tried to determine the look on her face.

Unhinged mother.

She wanted to tell him that’s what he saw. Someone living life on the edge...and about to come unglued.

“You okay?”

No. She was most definitely not okay because following on the tail of her loneliness came an unbidden urge to cry. It made her angry, that urge. She’d never been one for stints of self-pity, yet here she was, suddenly looking out the side window of his sixty-thousand-dollar truck and wondering if she had the strength of will to hold on to her tears.

“Fine.” But even to her own ears her voice sounded high, her nose clearly stuffed with the crud that clogged your nostrils and your throat when you tried so hard not to weep.

He flicked on his directional. It took her a moment to recognize the click-click of his blinkers, and then a moment more before she realized what he was about to do.

“No,” she said. “No, no, no. Do not pull over. I’m fine.”

“You need a tissue.”

“I do not.”

But, damn it, she was crying. Crying. In front of Jet Baron.

He pulled over.

When she glanced through her lashes the world was a blurry mess. She had no idea where they were and so she sucked in a breath, hoping it would help to clear her eyes and her airway, which made her sound like an asthmatic yappy dog, and that only made her want to cry even more.

“You’ve had a rough spell, haven’t you?”

It was too much. The long night. The early morning. The mistakes on her report. Meeting Brock Baron. Seeing the surprise in his eyes. No. It went back further than that. Losing Darren. The new job. The move away from everything she loved.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

A blurry box formed in front of her eyes. Tissue. She had no idea where he’d pulled it from. Reluctantly, she snatched one and dabbed at her eyes. At least the urge to sob seemed to have faded. Could she be hormonal? Was it close to her time of month? To be honest, she couldn’t recall anything. Time seemed to be an endless blur of get up, take care of the twins, get ready for work, race around the office, go home, cook dinner, bathe the twins, tuck them into bed, fall into her own bed—exhausted—then get up and do it all over again.

“You mind me asking why the father of your twins isn’t doing more?”

Another sucked-in breath, this one hitching in her chest again. “Oh, you know,” she said airily, waving her hand through the air. “He’s a little busy, what with being dead and all.”

Silence.

From the left side of the vehicle came the whoosh of a car passing them. He’d pulled to a stop at the base of an off-ramp—she had no idea where. To their left cars whizzed by on the freeway. Actually, she was kind of glad she’d stunned him into silence. It gave her a moment to catch her breath.

“Wow,” he said at last. “You’ve been handed a rotten deck of cards, haven’t you?”

He had that right.

“When? How?”

She stiffened.

“If you don’t mind me asking.”

He handed her another tissue. This time she took it without hesitating. She’d stained the first one black. Great. She probably looked like a panda bear.

“He was a hellfighter.”

And that said it all. Jet Baron was no fool. He knew what a hellfighter did. Knew the risk involved in trying to put out the flames of a burning oil well. She’d known, too. She’d warned herself away from Darren at least a half a dozen times that first night they’d met, but something about his bright blue eyes and his sparkling smile and the way he’d stared out at the world—as if he’d owned it and so nothing bad would ever happen to him—had drawn her to him like a kitten to catnip. She’d thought him invincible. She’d been dead wrong.

“So I take it he died on the job?”

“Yup. Two months before we were supposed to get married. I found out I was pregnant afterward. Darren never even knew.”

“Damn.” He shook his head. “That’s a tough gig.”

“Eyup.”

She felt better now. At least her lungs didn’t sound like a clogged exhaust pipe. Just a momentary breakdown. No big deal.

Except you broke down in front of the boss’s son.

Who’s staring at you right now.

She had to look away again. What she needed was a swift kick in the rear. That’s what Darren would have done. He’d never let her wallow in self-pity.

“Do you need anything?” Jet asked. “A helping hand? A shoulder to cry on? A shot of whiskey?”

That actually made her smile. “No.” She leaned her head against the smooth leather seat. No faux leather for the prince. “I’m fine.”

He stared at her again, and she wondered what he saw. A woman with raccoon eyes and tear-stained clothing, no doubt. She glanced down and realized she did indeed have a Cheerios in the cup of her bra. She should have known.

“How long has he been gone?”

Damn it, why shouldn’t she feel sorry for herself? It sucked big-time that she had no one to count on, no husband to help ease her burden, no family to share in the raising of her children. And her girls...her poor girls. They would never know their father. That, more than anything, broke her heart.

“Jasmine?”

“Five years ago.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she could tell her words surprised him.

She inhaled, released her breath, inhaled again. She did that over and over again until her eyes stopped burning and her heart stopped breaking—but the cracks would always remain.

“You’ve been doing this a long time on your own.”

Yup. School. Working whatever job she could find. Raising the girls.

“I’m sorry,” he added. “Nobody should ever have to raise a child on their own, much less two.”

Damn it, she felt her eyes begin to burn again. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Didn’t want him to be nice to her. She wanted to go back to the way things had been this morning when she’d walked into her office and she’d been looking down her nose at him. Jet Baron the dilettante. Instead, he’d fixed her report, invited her to tour his family’s facilities and handed her tissue.

“I am, too,” she said.

She heard him shift. A hand reached for her own. She thought about twisting in her seat, turning away so he couldn’t do what he was about to do—touch her. Instead, she watched as long fingers enveloped her own. Warm fingers. Soft fingers. No. Not soft, she realized. He had calluses on the inside. He worked outdoors a lot, she remembered. Rodeo.

“Let’s see if we can’t put a smile back on that face of yours.”

He released her.

Jasmine couldn’t move. It had been a long time since a man had touched her. A long time since she’d felt soft tingles of desire skate up and down her arm. A long time since she’d experienced the need, the want, the longing to have a man do more than touch her.

Dear God.

She was attracted to Jet Baron.


Chapter Five (#ulink_3c00fe8f-2a7e-5e64-91de-f608ed41a4bd)

They arrived at the community airport less than fifteen minutes later, although Jet kept sneaking glances at his passenger the whole time. She’d spent the first five minutes fixing her makeup, not that she needed any, he thought. She was quiet now, which, he supposed, was better than crying. He hated when women cried—and with three older sisters, he’d seen a lot of crying over the years.

“You know, Baron Energies sponsors the Mid-Texas High School Rodeo Association.”

She shot him a look that clearly asked, “Yeah, so?”

He turned into a side entrance to the airport. Off-white metal buildings were directly ahead, many of them housing airplanes and aviation mechanics. The helicopter they leased was at the end of the block, so to speak, where Jet turned right and followed a road that skirted the main runway. He pulled into a spot marked for Air Dynamics customers.

“Anyway,” he said, putting the car in Park and shutting off the engine. “This weekend is their annual fund-raising rodeo.”

When he glanced at her it was in time to spot the “Where is this going?” look in her eyes.

“It’s fun. You should bring your girls.”

The “where is this going?” faded into “are you out of your mind?”

“A lot of employees take their families. There’s pony rides and games for the kids and lots of fun stuff to do. My brothers and I give a clinic.” At her look of confusion, he added, “We work with some of the high schoolers on their rodeo skills. My sister can give you more information and tickets, too, if you’re interested.”

He knew she was going to say she was too busy. Or that it’d be too difficult to manage her girls on her own. Or that she had work to do...something, but he didn’t give her time to respond.

“Come on.” He opened his door. “Let’s get going.”

He assumed she’d follow, and she did. Hot, humid air instantly clung to the white polo shirt he wore. As he walked toward the leasing office that handled the maintenance and upkeep of the helicopter he flew, he didn’t glance back, just held the glass door open for her when the time came, cool air blasting the both of them.

“Mr. Baron,” said the owner of the company with a wide smile. The man had taught him how to fly, and so Jet smiled back. “I was wondering if you’d changed your mind about flying today.”

“Sorry, Eric. We were a little delayed.”

The man glanced at Jasmine, and Jet spotted the tellstale interest that sprang into his eyes. Who could blame him? Despite the tears she’d shed earlier, those gorgeous blue eyes of hers were as big and as lovely as ever. Her hair might be drawn back in a ponytail, but it flattered a face that didn’t need makeup to look beautiful. As Jet watched a welcoming smile form on Eric’s face, he felt his own smile fade, something that alarmed him slightly. There was no way he’d ever ask a woman like her out. He preferred females that weren’t looking for a commitment and there were plenty on the rodeo circuit. Sure, a few of them might want more, but he’d gotten adept at avoiding the parson’s noose. Women like Jasmine—someone with two kids to complicate things even further—were to be avoided at all costs.

“This is J. C. Marks, our new engineer.”

“Afternoon, Ms. Marks,” Eric said, and if he’d been wearing a hat, Jet was certain he’d have tipped the brim.

“Thought I’d give her a tour of our holdings while I check the lines.”

“Lucky you,” Eric said, but Jet wasn’t certain if he meant lucky for Jasmine to get a helicopter ride, or lucky him for getting to ferry around such a good-looking passenger. He suspected the latter, especially since the man couldn’t keep his eyes off Jasmine as Jet filled out paperwork.

“We’ve already done the preflight.” Eric checked his watch. “We’ll see you back here in two hours.”

Jet motioned for Jasmine to follow.

“Why do I have a feeling this is less about work and more about having fun?” she asked.

“Because it is going to be fun.” He glanced back at her. “Something tells me you need a little of that.”

“Please.” And the way she said it reminded him of yesterday. “You make me sound like a charity case.”

“You were just crying in my truck. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t want to cheer you up a little.” He headed toward the gleaming black helicopter parked in a painted white circle. “All you have to do is hang on and enjoy the view.”

Her steps slowed as they approached the piece of equipment. He tried to see things through her eyes. It was a midsize helicopter. Not huge, but not a crop duster, either. The nose had been fitted with a “sniffer” a special device that would detect HCF emissions. This was a portable version that AirDyn—as they were called for short—could take on and off as needed. Inside the cockpit a laptop would record their findings, although Jet really didn’t expect any blips on the monitor. Baron Energies spent a small fortune ensuring the safety of their wells.

He opened the door. She didn’t move. He turned to her in surprise.

She kept glancing from him to the helicopter and then back again, like a kitten fascinated by a moth. “You mind me asking how long you’ve had your pilot’s license?”

“About a month.”

Her gaze froze.

“Kidding, kidding.” He lifted his palms. “I’ve been flying for years. Been piloting helicopters for just as long. Makes things easier when you’re hitting up a bunch of rodeos and it’s convenient for my dad when he gets the urge to go out and check the wells, which he likes to do pretty frequently. Control freak with a capital C and F.”

She glanced at the helicopter again. He knew what she was thinking.

“Really,” he said. “It’s okay.”

He could tell she didn’t want to admit her fears. To her credit he saw her take a deep breath, square her shoulders and step forward.

Good girl.

“There’s a headset between your seat and mine.” She looked around once she’d settled herself. He could tell she instantly spotted the headset. “Make sure you strap yourself in. It can get a little rough sometimes. Downdrafts and all that. I’m going to walk the exterior.”

She still looked green around the gills, but she would change her mind once they were airborne. It was amazing up there, and she wanted a little excitement. He couldn’t wait to give it to her, although he worried about why he needed to please her. The familiar preflight quickly garnered all his attention, however. As he walked the aircraft, his heart began to pound. Flying was one of the few things aside from riding a bull that gave him an adrenaline rush.

He climbed inside a moment later, glancing over at Jasmine as he did so. She’d put on her headphones in a way that flattened her hair against her scalp, a big loop of her ponytail stuck inside the earpiece, but it didn’t detract from her pretty face. Quite the contrary. It highlighted the perfect shape of her cheekbones and her large blue eyes.

“Ready?”

“No.”

He bit back a smile. “Relax. Flying is the other thing I do really well.”

He didn’t mean for the words to sound so flirtatious, but she clearly took them the wrong way, judging by the look she shot him. “I’ll try and remember that if we start to crash.”

He donned his headphones. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she answered back, her voice sounding tinny and far away. “But that might not be a good thing when I start screaming.”

“That’s okay. I have a mute button.”

He flipped a switch, and the rotors began to spin, slowly at first and then faster and faster. What started as a minor vibration turned into a major one and then slowly smoothed out until there was nothing but the near-deafening hum of the engines. He touched the comm, checked in with the tower, received clearance to fly in a northwesterly direction. Didn’t matter how many times he flew, there was always the surge of adrenaline just before he set off.

“You ready?”

“No.”

“Here we go.”

* * *

SHE WANTED TO PUKE.

Honestly, when he’d dragged her along, she hadn’t given a thought to Jet actually piloting the craft. Well, maybe she’d thought about it a little bit, but now that moment of truth had arrived.

“Please don’t kill me.” The words just sort of popped out. “I have two little girls who really need their mother.”

They were slowly rising above the earth, the metal building they’d just been inside shrinking like a piece of plastic in the oven.

“Hey, relax.”

“I just don’t think it was very smart of me to trust a man who’s known for never following through on much of anything in life.”

“Excuse me?”

It helped to take her mind off things to keep talking, even if she was pretty sure he might not like what he was about to hear. “There was the race-car thing.”

He turned the nose of the helicopter. They shot forward. She reached for a bar on the door, but there was no bar on the door. This wasn’t a car. This was a helicopter and apparently there was no need for something to hang on to according to the manufacturers.

“The car-racing thing was a dare. Someone claimed he had a faster car than mine. I proved him wrong.”

“By building your own drag car.”

“It was a stock car, way different than the big-ended, fat-tired things you see on TV.”

“And then there was the stint as a writer.”

“Where did you hear about that?”

They were at least a mile above the airport, cars shrinking to the size of pill bugs, highways looking like the veins of a leaf spreading in all directions, and buildings resembling Lego blocks. Off in the periphery, the greens and golds and sometimes the blue of rural Dallas County stretched as far as the eye could see.

“The energy business is a small world. People talk.”

They were picking up speed—Jasmine reminded herself that she’d asked for a little excitement. Still, it was one thing to ask, another to experience his version of excitement firsthand.

“First of all, it was cowboy poetry, which isn’t the same thing as trying to be a writer, and I was actually pretty good at it.”

You haven’t flown since before having Brooke and Gwen.

Was that it? Was she suddenly aware of her own mortality now that she’d given birth?

Keep talking.

“Okay, and how about trophy fishing?”

“That I still like to do.”

“My point being you never seem to settle down and do one thing at a time.” She swallowed back her agitation. “Which means you’re never going to excel at anything you do.”

“Ouch.”

“Except rodeo. You seem to have stuck with that.”

“And to think, I actually felt sorry for you a little while ago.”

“I’m just worried your lack of commitment might mean you’re not the best helicopter pilot in the world.”

“That worry I can dispel right now.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Remember when I asked you if you wanted the Disney or the vanilla version?”

“Yeah?”

“Here’s the Disney.”

“Oh, damn—”

Her stomach lurched. It actually felt as if it flew out of her body and landed somewhere in the vicinity of her toes. In reality, it was the helicopter that dropped, but it might as well have been her stomach. She screamed, or she thought she did. Her terror might have been solely confined to the inside of her head.

“Hang on.”

She almost yelled there was nothing to hang on to, but she was too busy trying to catch her breath. They were headed for a patch of green, one with a ribbon of blue in the center of it. A river. She had no idea which one it was, only that they were headed right for it, the helicopter dropping lower and lower and lower.

“Jet!” But it wasn’t exactly a squeal of terror. Even to her own ears she could hear the laughter.

They never even got close to the water, not really, but it felt like it as Jet maneuvered the helicopter forward. Below she caught a glimpse of two startled fishermen.




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