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Winning The Rancher's Heart
Pamela Britton
A NEW BEGINNINGNaomi Jones is ready to shake things up. The widowed single mom and her kids need a big change, so she drives across the country to start her new life. But starting over doesn’t mean getting involved with her handsome boss, Jaxton Stone. Though Naomi enjoys teasing a smile from the gruff rancher’s lips, she’s not sure her broken heart can ever love again.As an ex-soldier, Jax lives by precise, regimented order…until Naomi arrives at the Dark Horse Ranch and complicates everything. Along with the chaos, the feisty redhead and her children bring fun back to Jax’s life. She may be his total opposite, but Jax can’t stay away from the woman who makes his ranch feel like home.


A NEW BEGINNING
Naomi Jones is ready to shake things up. The widowed single mom and her kids need a big change, so she drives across the country to start her new life. But starting over doesn’t mean getting involved with her handsome boss, Jaxton Stone. Though Naomi enjoys teasing a smile from the gruff rancher’s lips, she’s not sure her broken heart can ever love again.
As an ex-soldier, Jax lives by precise, regimented order...until Naomi arrives at the Dark Horse Ranch and complicates everything. Along with the chaos, the feisty redhead and her children bring fun back to Jax’s life. She may be his total opposite, but Jax can’t stay away from the woman who makes his ranch feel like home.
“You’re a good man, Jaxton Stone.” Naomi sniffled.
No, he wasn’t. He was having all kinds of inappropriate thoughts about her. Wondered what she would do if he bent and brushed her lips with his own. But he couldn’t. Damn it all, he just couldn’t.
“Sometimes,” he said, “doing what’s right for everyone takes a huge leap of faith, but I promise you, it will all work out all right in the end.”
She turned to face him and he warned himself not to move. Not to stare at her lips. Not to lean in close to her. It was the hardest thing in the world to let her go.
“You’re a good mum,” he heard himself say, forcing himself to relax. “Have faith. Trust your heart. It’ll never lead you astray.”
She peered up at him, blue eyes wide, her hair spilling around her shoulders, and he felt himself falling... falling...
“Good night.”
He ran.
Winning the Rancher’s Heart
Pamela Britton


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
With more than 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.
Dedicated to my darling Lysy Loo,
the daughter of my heart.
We love you, Alysa Panks.
Contents
Cover (#u60e84799-c546-5dbd-8274-cfa4ed2ae6b6)
Back Cover Text (#ua16c6795-0af3-50c5-ae68-24dfc0941aad)
Introduction (#u2fbed5b7-e9e2-5d47-8753-c7367eebbb11)
Title Page (#uf81d1425-ebc9-5f4c-a51d-8e2073970093)
About the Author (#ude59564b-ba31-5585-a3e1-4692a21274b9)
Dedication (#u69db7175-a6b0-5430-8dcb-069fcdb4b4cd)
Chapter One (#ufd3007ed-6452-5056-aa4b-13b1e617f843)
Chapter Two (#u924d93b1-9ee1-5a18-8b9d-c6aa8e639834)
Chapter Three (#u8881f54c-85c8-5db5-805d-7fbe9140c692)
Chapter Four (#u7993498b-8bf9-577a-a51d-0dd2d557d3b9)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ue35c056c-4cff-5d8a-ab32-d5237e52bae2)
“Is this it?” T.J. asked, his left elbow brushing her own as her son wiggled on the old Ford’s front bench seat.
Naomi Jones stared at the sign hanging above the dirt road, clenching her palms against the sweat that formed.
Dark Horse Ranch.
“Yes.” She sighed. “This is it.”
“It doesn’t look like much of a ranch,” said her other child from her shotgun position. Samantha sounded about as enthusiastic as a dental patient about to undergo a root canal, but these days her teenage daughter didn’t sound enthusiastic about anything.
She had a point, though, Naomi admitted, but she knew from experience you couldn’t see much of the place from the road. Just a bunch of valley oaks dotting the acreage and the needle-straight line of a road, one that headed toward some low-lying foothills not too far in the distance. It was dusk and the sun had just started to set behind the hills. The dew point had risen and it released the scent of herbs in the air.
New life, new beginnings, she reminded herself.
Goodness knows she’d made a mess of the old one. Not at first. At first it had been heaven on earth. But then Trevor had died and everything had changed, and not for the better. These days Samantha was either a perfect princess or perfectly horrible. It was clear she needed to rein her in. And T.J. Poor T.J. had been bullied since his first day of elementary school. She hoped like heck the move would help.
Here we go.
Her old truck rattled forward. Someone had hit her pickup in the back and taken off without leaving a note. She didn’t have the money to fix it, so duct tape held parts of the bumper together. She should probably have it fixed before it flew off on the freeway or something, but that was what this move to California was all about, too. A good-paying job. A place to live—for free. And, once she sold her home in Georgia, money in the bank.
“Wow,” T.J. said.
She’d been so deep in thought she hardly noticed their surroundings. She looked up at her son’s gasp of amazement and spotted it. Beyond the oak trees, nestled into a craggy hillside, stood a house. A very big house.
“I know, right?” she said, guiding the old truck toward the redwood-and-glass monstrosity. It should look out of place in the middle of the country and yet the home seemed to have sprouted from the very rocks it sat upon. She’d watched enough shows about architecture on television to know it’d been designed by a naturalist, someone who wanted it to look indigenous to the landscape, and had probably cost a small fortune.
“Is that where we’re going to live?” T.J. asked with a tone of reverence.
She glanced at Samantha to gauge her reaction, but as usual, her thirteen-year-old had her head buried in her phone. Then again, in her present frame of mind, they could probably pull up to Buckingham Palace and Sam would pretend indifference.
“We’re actually living around the left side. In the maid’s quarters.”
Sam snorted. Her daughter hated her new job title: housekeeper. One of many things Sam had given her grief about when she’d learned they were moving.
“Can we go inside?” T.J. asked. He pushed his thick-framed glasses up on his nose.
“Not the big house,” Naomi said, smiling when she spotted the way his red hair stuck up on one side. They’d had the window down at one point. “We need to settle Janus into his new digs.”
She glanced in the rearview mirror. The Belgian Malinois must be lying down because Naomi couldn’t see his head between the bars of the plastic crate.
“He’s going to love it here,” T.J. said, wiggling on his seat.
At least one of them was happy with the move, although they weren’t completely free of Georgia just yet. She still needed to go back and arrange for all their furniture and belongings to be stored and/or sold. And she’d have to move some of it out west, which meant another long drive.
“I thought you said there would be horses,” Sam grumbled as they pulled up in front of their new home.
“They’re here.” Somewhere. According to the owner’s sister, Lauren Danners, they’d built the horse facility out back. Lauren had been the one to hire her because her brother, Jaxton Stone, was always out of town. Hooves for Heroes was a therapy center for soldiers with PTSD, although she’d never seen it. A state-of-the-art facility. New, she’d been told. Very expensive.
She pulled up to housekeeper’s entrance on the left side of the main house. Slipping out of the truck, she tucked her cell phone in her back pocket and took a deep breath of the chamomile-scented air. It had rained recently; that was the reason for the moisture in the air. She could smell the earth and the wild oats that grew between the trees. The moisture had settled on the granite stones that ringed the base of the house, turning them a dark rose color. A door had been placed in the middle of the wall—an ornate maple door with a fan-shaped paned window set into the top of it. Narrow windows sat on either side of that door, a small deck with redwood steps leading to the entrance. She wanted to buy some plants for the railings when she had some extra money.
“It doesn’t look like much,” Sam said.
“Wait until you see the inside.”
Lauren had shown her around the fully furnished apartment when she’d flown out for the interview. Three bedrooms. A kitchen. Even a family room that overlooked a back patio with a pool right outside. Not her own pool, of course, but the owner’s. She’d been told her kids could use it, though, as long as she checked with Mr. Stone first.
“Why don’t you let Janus out?” she asked T.J. “He can check out our new place, too.”
Her son dashed to the back of the truck, dodging suitcases and boxes to get to the beige-colored kennel. Poor dog had been cooped up for at least three hours.
“Use the leash,” she warned. The last thing she needed was her husband’s ex-military dog running off and getting lost. That would be a disaster.
“Can’t we, you know, find a place of our own to live?” Her daughter’s face was a mask of distaste as she stared around her. “I don’t want to share a house with someone I don’t know.”
Naomi resisted the urge to make her own face. “We’re not sharing a house, kiddo. We have one right here.” And it’s free. And furnished. And requires no commute.
Sam flicked her long brown hair over a shoulder. “Yeah. The servants’ quarters.”
Was it illegal to spank kids in California? She doubted anyone would blame her if she did. “Sam, please. Give this a try.”
“Whatever.” She flounced off, heading for the front door.
T.J. came up beside her, Janus by his side, the dog’s dark eyes catching on something near the front of the house, although what she couldn’t tell. He was forever looking for trouble, compliments of his military training.
“Don’t worry, Mom. She’ll get over it.”
The fact that her ten-year-old son tried to console her shouldn’t surprise her. He’d been doing that for the past two years, ever since Trevor had died.
“I hope so, bud,” she murmured.
She’d been told the front door would be open, and it was. The apartment, which took up a whole corner of the owner’s mansion, was just as spacious as she remembered.
“Wow,” T.J. said again.
Definitely bigger than their place in Georgia, not that Sam would admit it. She just slumped down on the couch to their right, eyes glued to her phone.
“I’m going to go meet my new boss.” Naomi tried to inject perky self-confidence into her voice. “Sam, can you and T.J. try to unload some of our stuff?”
Sam didn’t answer, just kept clicking buttons.
“Sam.”
Her daughter eyed her from above the top of her phone. “Fine.”
She winced inwardly. The whole journey out to California, she’d tried to convince her daughter that the move was for the best. They’d be near the kids’ grandparents once they made the move out west, too. They’d be living on a ranch. They could even have their own horses down the road once she sold the house. Sam had always loved horses. But Sam hated to leave her friends. She didn’t like California, although she’d never been there before. She hated that her mom would be a housekeeper. Why couldn’t she do something different? Why couldn’t they stay in Georgia? And on and on it’d gone.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment. At least T.J. was happy. Her son was going from room to room, sounds of “wow” and “cool” being emitted periodically.
As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, a sullen teenager only added to the mix. Jaxton Stone’s sister had said he was a nice man: the perfect brother, she’d said. He worked super hard, which was why he needed a live-in housekeeper. Apparently, her new boss was always off somewhere in the world. He ran a military contracting company. She’d had to Google what that was, a sort of army-for-hire type of thing. They provided protection for corporate executives, too, something she’d never heard of before, but was apparently necessary if the company was big enough that it could afford to pay a ransom. She’d been shocked to read just how dangerous foreign travel could be for the head of a big company, and her new boss made a living keeping those corporate head honchos safe. A very good living, by the looks of it.
Off you go.
She stepped outside and skirted the house to the main entrance. At least her surroundings were pretty spectacular. The home sat on property that looked like something out of an old Western movie, or maybe Bonanza. Rolling hills were covered by dried grass, trees casting inkblot shadows on the ground, taller mountains in the distance. She’d had to cross through those mountains to get to Via Del Caballo, so she knew the ocean lay on the other side. It might have rained this morning, but it was clear now, a few patchy clouds off in the distance. She took a deep breath of the freshly scented air and then squared her shoulders. Lauren had constantly mentioned how great her brother was. She hoped her boss’s sister hadn’t fudged the truth.
The front door sat atop a row of steps like the opening to a Mayan temple. She was just about to make the sacrificial ascent when a sound caught her attention. A dog sat on the massive porch that framed the front of the house. It stared at her curiously from its position by a redwood chair with maroon cushions.
“Hey there, boy,” she said, climbing the stairs quickly. Some kind over overlarge terrier, she thought, smiling at the way tendrils of hair came together at the crown of its head and made it look like it had a Mohawk.
“Bad hair day?” she asked.
The dog just thumped its tail. Skinny little thing. She wondered if it were ill or something.
She smiled down at it and eyed the place. Should she just walk in? Ring a bell?
She pressed the doorbell, stepped back, the dog watching her as she stood there, then moved forward and rang the bell again.
Was he home?
She’d been assured someone would be there to greet her this morning. And the apartment had been unlocked. Maybe he’d stepped out?
She wondered what to do. Wide beams stood above her, the wooden rails reminiscent of pictures she’d seen of Camp David. It smelled new. Like varnish and wood and fresh paint.
He must not have heard me. She peeked through one of the massive windows that lined the front. She didn’t see anybody, so she went back to the door, turning the handle just to see if it was open, not to go inside or anything.
The alarm nearly deafened her. She had to cover her ears it was so loud. The dog that’d been on the porch ran away so fast she wished she could do the same.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
What had she done? She hadn’t even opened the dang thing.
Dear Lord.
She stepped back from the door, staring at it, as if she could somehow will the alarm to shut off.
It swung open.
Blue eyes stared down at her. That’s all she caught a glimpse of before he went back inside. Through the open door she watched as he turned toward an electronic console on the wall, pressed some buttons and silenced the alarm.
Her ears rang. Her face blazed. Her smile nearly slipped from her face.
“Good morning.” She tried to brazen it out.
He slowly placed his hands on his hips, and as Naomi looked into his gorgeous eyes, she knew nothing would ever be the same again.
* * *
“DO YOU ALWAYS just walk into people’s homes?”
The redhead’s smile grew even more strained, and he recognized the grin for what it was—a show of bravado that fooled no one.
“I didn’t walk in, I promise.” She lifted her hands. “I just tried the door.”
“Soooo you could walk in?”
“No, no.” She shook her head, a mass of red hair falling over her shoulders. “I was just seeing if someone was here. I wasn’t going to walk in.”
“Mom!” Behind her, a dark-haired girl came to a stop on his gravel driveway. “Are you okay?”
She turned to greet the teen. “I’m okay.” She waved her away. “Just a little misunderstanding.”
A little boy, younger than the girl and with hair as red as his mom’s, skidded to a stop next. “Man, that was loud.”
“I take it those are the kids?” he asked.
She glanced back at him. “Yup.”
Which confirmed that she was Naomi Jones, although her Southern accent gave it away. The friend of a friend that his sister had interviewed and loved, and whom he’d been forced to hire because Lauren felt sorry for the single mom of two. That wasn’t surprising given that his sister had been raising a child all on her own, but that would soon change since she’d met Brennan Connelly.
“Can I see the inside of your house?” the boy asked, lifting up on his toes as if he might be able to peer over his mom’s shoulder.
The girl smacked him on the head.
“Ow!” the boy cried.
“Come on.” The teen gave them what could only be called a glare of derision. “Let’s let Mom do her housekeeping thing.”
His gaze caught on the woman in front of him, just in time to see her wince. “I’m so sorry.”
He’d have to have been a real jerk not to accept her apology. His men might call him a hard-ass, but it really wasn’t true. Well, most of the time.
“It’s okay.” He stepped back from the door. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.”
She glanced around, her gaze coming to rest on a granite water sculpture at the center of the main foyer. The sound of running water soothed troubled souls, his included.
“I love your house.” She stopped in the middle of the foyer, her eyes—the prettiest shade of blue he’d seen in a long, long time—traveling around the interior. “It reminds me of a guest lodge or something.”
“Thanks.”
Those eyes landed back on him. “I’m Naomi Jones, by the way.”
He could tell she wasn’t sure if she should hold out a hand or simply stand there and keep smiling.
He took the guesswork away from her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Nice to meet you.”
He saw something flit across her eyes, something that told him he might have just offended her, or maybe disappointed her. “You, too.” She stuffed her own hands in her pockets.
Interesting. Usually mimicking someone’s gestures was a sign of submission, but he doubted that was the case here. He’d seen her tip her chin up a tad. Those bright blue eyes of hers had grown a little less friendly, too.
“So, those were your kids?”
“Yes. T.J. and Samantha.”
“And you’ve settled into the apartment?”
“Well, no. We only just got here. I was told to come straight to you when we arrived. So you could meet me.”
Check her out, his sister had said, although he hated the way saying the words made him feel. His sister had said she was perfect for the job, but that didn’t mean he would think so, too. He’d agreed to hire her as a favor. He’d been telling himself for the past two weeks that he should trust his sister’s judgment, but as Naomi stood in front of him he wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
“Why don’t we go talk in my office?” He motioned that she should follow him past the sunken living room that overlooked the front of the property and up some stairs to his left. He’d had very few people to his private retreat. He could probably count the number on one hand, but he wasn’t surprised by her reaction to the vaulted ceilings and the wrought-iron balustrade as she followed him up the wooden steps. It’d taken a year to build the place, and another three months to build the massive covered arena and apartments out back. He’d spent those last several months flying back and forth between his corporate offices in San Francisco, interviewing hippotherapists and psychotherapists, and securing the purchase of the livestock for his ranch. It’d been a hell of an endeavor, but he’d gotten it done.
“My sister tells me you’ve done this before?”
“Well, not quite,” she said, taking a seat opposite his desk. He watched as she immediately shifted first left and then right, solidifying his own thoughts about his new furniture. Not comfortable. He’d hired a decorator, and he’d begun to suspect that she valued form over function. He liked things the opposite way, something he’d clearly neglected to convey. In his line of work, things needed to be efficient. Someone’s life might depend on it.
“I used to work as an event planner, and before that, I worked for a hotel doing the same thing. But I started out in housekeeping. Worked my way up while I attended college, that sort of thing.”
He’d known that. He’d read her résumé a time or two. “Why do you want to move all the way out to California?”
She stared into her lap for a moment, resting her hands on her jean-clad legs, sunlight from the tall windows in front of her emphasizing the red of her hair. “The kids’ grandparents are moving out here.” She looked up and met his gaze. “My kids love them. I didn’t want Sam and T.J. to be that far away.”
“So you chucked it all?”
He didn’t mean to sound critical, but he could tell by the way she furrowed her brow that she took it that way. “We don’t have anybody else. No other family, no aunts or uncles, and life in Georgia is...challenging.”
“More challenging than moving all the way to California?”
There went that chin again. “We needed a change.”
A big change. At least from the sound of things.
He leaned back. He sat opposite her since he didn’t need to see the view. “This job won’t just be about housekeeping. I know that’s what my sister told you, but it’s going to be way more than that.”
She tipped her head, leaned forward a bit. Her body language told him she didn’t mind this change of plans.
“You’ll still be keeping house to some degree,” he explained, “and managing my household—buying groceries and whatnot—but whoever works here needs to be flexible, too. They need to understand that one day they might be asked to cook for me when I’m in town, or clean a guest apartment, or help one of our guests in some way. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be interesting. You do know how to cook, don’t you?”
“You wouldn’t ask me that if you’d tasted my Southern pecan pie.” She beamed, and he had to admit she didn’t look a thing like he’d expected. He’d expected older. More...harried-looking. She had two kids and he knew that couldn’t be easy.
Drop-dead gorgeous, that’s what she was.
Even in an off-white long-sleeved T-shirt as plain as day. He didn’t normally notice such things, not when all he cared about was if someone could do a job properly, but the visual image in his head was so far from the reality that it startled him.
“What about you?” he said. “Do you have any questions?”
“Yes.” She pinned him down with a stare like an entomologist would a cricket. “You won’t be bothered by two kids and a dog, will you?” She looked around her as if envisioning two terrors inside his home.
“I would expect them to stay out of the way.”
And suddenly she appeared amused, her blue eyes lighting up from within, her whole face transforming, and if he’d thought her beautiful before, that was nothing like the way she looked with a smile on her face.
“I can’t keep my kids in a kennel.”
“No, of course not, but kids are always off doing things, at least in my experience. As far as your dog, I would appreciate you keeping him on a leash, at least until we know how he’ll react around horses.”
“You don’t think your dog will mind having a new dog on the property.”
“What dog?”
Her brows drew together. “The one on your porch. Or it was. It ran off when the alarm sounded.”
“What?”
“By the front door. But like I said, it ran off.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “If you see it, please let me know. I’ll have to call someone to catch it.”
“No. Don’t do that. It’s better to try to re-home a stray.”
“We don’t know it’s a stray.”
She frowned. “I think it is. It looked skinny.”
And she cared. With concern clouding her eyes, she looked younger. She couldn’t be much older than thirty.
Younger than you.
Much younger.
“Let me know if you catch it and we’ll go from there.”
She nodded. “Anything else?”
“One last question.”
She waited quietly. He admired the way the sunlight set strands of her hair afire before he admitted he shouldn’t be noticing that type of thing.
“What if you change your mind?”
“About what?”
“The move. Working as a housekeeper. Living on the ranch.”
She lifted her chin a tiny fraction, but enough for him to realize she was sensitive about the issue. “I won’t. We even drove my old Ford truck all the way out here. And I’ve started the school enrollment process for my kids. They’ll be all set to start at their new school in the fall.”
He studied the woman in front of him. Lauren had told him Naomi worried that her husband’s death had affected her kids far more deeply than she’d surmised. That they were having problems in school and that a move all the way across country would be good for them. He couldn’t say he agreed. Then again, he didn’t have kids, so who was he to judge?
“All right then. I guess we’ll see what happens.”
“Terrific.”
“And your first task will be helping to organize a party I’m having here in a couple of weeks. Local military brass. Short notice, but I’m sure I can easily pull strings and get people here. You’ll have an unlimited budget to make it an affair people will remember. I want to make a big splash.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I—”
“You’ve planned events before, or so you said.”
He saw her take a deep breath. “Of course I have. I just didn’t think I’d be starting so soon.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Good, then I’ll take you on a tour of the ranch next.”
She seemed surprised again.
“Unless you’d like to settle in first.”
“No, no. That’s okay.”
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “And before I forget, here’s some information I put together for you. My cell phone. Email. Etcetera.” He slid a manila envelope forward. “Meet me in front of your apartment in ten minutes.”
She lifted a hand, saluted. He lifted a brow. She smiled and stood up, envelope held in front of her like a shield.
“It was nice to finally meet you.”
“Same,” he said with a dip of his head.
He watched her slip away, but when she left he spun his chair so that it faced the windows. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the hiring of a housekeeper to his sister. He had a feeling Naomi Jones might prove to be a handful, although he had no idea why he felt that way.
Her eyes sparkled.
As if she saw the world from the big end of a telescope and what she spotted amused her. Usually, he hired people who were far more serious, but he supposed that was to be expected given the nature of his work. Naomi seemed...complicated.
He hated complications.
Chapter Two (#ue35c056c-4cff-5d8a-ab32-d5237e52bae2)
“Can I tour the ranch with you?”
T.J.’s face was imploring and it killed Naomi to shake her head. “Honey, there’ll be time to show you around later today. Let me spend some time with my new boss first.”
“But I thought you weren’t going to start work until next week,” he said.
She’d thought so, too, but she should have known her new boss was a workaholic. His sister had told her how often he was out of town. That he was driven and impatient and yet the kindest man she’d ever get to know. She’d have to take his sister’s word for it. So far she felt...nervous. He had the ability to escalate her pulse, and not because he was good-looking, although he was that, with his dark hair and blue eyes. Handsome and intimidating as hell.
“Plans changed.” She brushed her hand through T.J.’s hair. “But I promise to explore with you later on today.”
When she got off work she would make sure to show T.J. the ranch, although she’d forgotten to ask Jax Stone about her hours. And what days she’d have off. And a whole host of other questions because when she’d looked into his eyes she’d just sort of gone ooohh.
Someone beeped a horn. Janus stood up from his position at Sam’s feet and began to growl.
“Nein,” she softly told him. That was all she needed to say for the dog to rest his head again. That was the last thing she needed—for Janus to start attacking the door. “Stay inside,” she told her kids, although she doubted Sam heard her. Earphones didn’t quash the sound of music that emanated from the tiny white buds. Her daughter would be deaf by the time she was fourteen.
“Can I go see the pool?” T.J. asked, eyes filled with hope.
“No.”
His lower lip stuck out. “But Mom...”
“Just stay here. Sam.” He daughter continued to tap something out on her phone. “Sam!”
That got her attention, but she seemed completely put out that she had to remove one of the buds from her ear. She did everything but roll her eyes.
“Keep an eye on T.J.”
T.J. wiggled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
The horn beeped again. Janus barked. Naomi turned to the room and said, “Stay.”
“Mom. I’m not a dog.”
“I know that. I meant all of you. Don’t leave.”
She slipped outside before T.J. could start complaining again. “Sorry,” she told her new boss, drawing up short at the sight of the all-terrain vehicle he’d arrived in. It looked like something the military would use—all camo paint and big black bumpers and a cab framed by a roll cage.
“Was that your dog I heard?”
She nodded, her face coloring a bit because it was only then that she realized she hadn’t told his sister exactly what kind of dog she’d be bringing with her.
“That did not sound like a small animal.”
Once again she found herself tipping her chin. “He’s a Belgian Malinois.”
He knew what that was, she could tell by the way his blue eyes narrowed. “You have a Malinois?”
She nodded, decided that she should just spit the rest of it out. “He’s an ex-military war dog.”
His lips pressed together before he said, “What are you doing with an MWD?”
“He was my husband’s.”
Trevor.
Her high school sweetheart. The man she’d known instantly that she would marry, even as young as she was. She tried not to let her emotions show, but she saw Jax’s gaze hone in on her own. It still hurt, although she’d hoped, goodness how she’d hoped, that it would have faded by now. At least a little bit. She prayed the move would help. Less of a reminder of what her life had been like before.
“You took possession of him after he died?”
She nodded. “Smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
He stared at her a long time. “Come on,” he said. “I’m sure you want to spend time unpacking when we’re done here.”
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile as she slipped into the passenger seat. “How far away are the horses?”
“Not far,” he said. “I wanted the guest quarters to be within walking distance of my home.”
Jaxton Stone was rich. Not that she hadn’t already known that. Not that she cared, but she could tell he was more than just well-off.
She’d found out about Dark Horse Ranch through Trevor’s best friend, Ethan, who’d taken on the role of surrogate brother over the past year. Ethan’s brother-in-law Colt had told her Jaxton owned the company Colt’s brother, Chance, used to work for, and that they’d been in combat together once upon a time. And that Jaxton was the type of man who’d give his left kidney to someone. It was Ethan, Colt and Chance who’d convinced the reclusive Jaxton Stone to move to Via Del Caballo and build his therapeutic horse ranch for combat veterans. Naomi loved the idea so much she’d asked if he was hiring, and voilà, here she was. Except given their description of the man, and then after meeting his sister, she’d expected someone completely different. Guarded. Not this...stern taskmaster who didn’t seem to have the muscles to smile.
“I love your home.”
He put the vehicle in gear, the clutch lurching them forward so that she grabbed the roll cage to steady herself, the metal cold beneath her fingers. It was far cooler than she’d expected. She’d be chilled within a matter of minutes in her long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
“Thank you,” he said, shooting her a glance, looking like any rancher on any given day, on any other average ranch, in his black cowboy hat and jeans. The road followed the curve of the hillside, and she gasped at what stood on the other side. A massive equestrian complex, one made out of thick beams and with a steeped roof and tall windows across the front. It was all off in the distance, but close enough that she and the kids could walk, and all tucked away in a little valley behind his house.
“Wow.”
She hadn’t meant to say the word aloud, but it escaped before she could stop it.
“It turned out nicely, I think.”
He thought? The ranch was a showplace. Long, rectangular buildings were usually plain and ugly, but whoever had designed his house had also designed his barn. It had thick beams jutting out, not just across the front, but along the sides. Massive double doors—two stories high—were set into the front so they could be opened or closed, but they were cleverly designed so that it looked like the short end was all one big wall of windows. It wasn’t just a barn, she realized then. It was an arena.
Amazing.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen stables before. Ethan’s sister-in-law, Natalie, owned an equestrian facility twice the size. It was the sheer newness of it all that blew her mind, that and the knowledge that before his arrival, none of it had been in the center of the valley, one with a small lake in the distance and hills that had been browned by the June sun.
He drove forward again. “I’d like to have the party down here, in the arena, so people can mill around and see what we’ve built. I’ll invite some of the country’s leading experts on post-traumatic stress disorder. Anyone who needs a room can stay in the guest quarters.”
And he wanted to do this how soon? She gulped at the thought, but something told her Jaxton Stone didn’t know the meaning of the word failure.
“We’ll need to ensure we have plenty of food on hand, and maybe hire a caterer if you think it’ll be too much. You should probably get me a list of local media. I’m hoping they’ll take one look at Dark Horse Ranch and spread the word about what we hope to accomplish here. I want this facility to be the best therapeutic ranch on the West Coast. I want to change lives here. Help people. Make things better.”
She turned to look at him, stunned to realize this wasn’t just a passing fancy or some kind of tax write-off. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, earnestness mixed with hope and maybe even longing.
He cared.
“Let me show you the arena and the corrals and the horses we’ve purchased for the program first. That’s something Colt and Ethan are helping me out with. I don’t know a whole heck of a lot about horses, but I’m learning.”
For the first time he had become animated, showing her the state-of-the-art, climate-controlled arena—actually driving through the center so she could see the iron stall fronts to her right and the polished wooden beams—every inch the masterpiece that his home was. The kids would go nuts when they saw it.
“The horses have been carefully selected for the program.” He motioned toward a dark bay horse that peered at them curiously from the other side of a stall front. “And they’re turned out to graze in the evening, something that’s good for them.”
He showed her the turn-out pens next, driving behind the barn.
“The pastures are so green compared to the hills.”
“We’re on an aquifer. That’s where the water for my lake comes from. That’s what keeps everything green. Natural springs.” He pointed toward the horse pens. “The Reynolds family could have charged me a small fortune for this property, but they sold it to me cheap. Actually, their home’s just a few miles away from here as the crow flies. They still ride their horses out by the lake.”
She smiled at the mention of the Reynolds family. She adored Colt and Chance and their sister, Claire. Particularly Claire, who’d taken such good care of Janus when he’d been in her care. Claire owned a military dog rescue and she was married to Ethan, who was a veterinarian.
“This is my favorite animal.” He pulled to a stop in front of one of the horse corrals, getting out and heading toward the brown horse that walked toward them. “His name is Zipping Down the Road. Zippy for short. He used to be some kind of famous show horse, an actual world champion or something, but his owners retired him a few years back and he’s been a therapy horse ever since.”
She watched from her seat in the ATV as he walked up to the animal in question, holding out a hand, letting the horse sniff it before moving up next to his head and patting his neck.
“Looking for a treat?” he softly asked. “You know I have them somewhere, don’t you?”
Who was this man? she found herself wondering, watching as he fished a baby carrot out of his back pocket and then gently fed it to the horse. His whole face had changed. Gone was the stern taskmaster. In his place stood a man with soft hands and warm eyes.
“Come here and pet him.”
Okay, so there was the taskmaster again, but that was okay. She smiled because she’d been worried the kids would hate him. That her new boss seemed cold and distant and that he wouldn’t like her children. But for the first time she saw the man who’d spent millions of dollars on a state-of-the-art facility for wounded warriors. A nice man. A caring man. A man with a gentle spirit.
Their gazes connected as she slowly moved up next to the horse.
“He’s gorgeous,” she said, and she couldn’t hide her smile because it felt so good to pet one again. It’d been years, but she’d always been a horse-crazy girl. “I bet you were really something in your younger years,” she told the animal, leaning in next to his nose and inhaling the sweet animal scent that only horse lovers understood. The horse did the same thing right back, smelling her loose hair and tickling her ear and making her giggle.
When she drew back she felt his gaze on her, her smile fading at the look on his face.
“What?” she asked.
He stepped away. “Nothing.”
For some reason she felt the need to explain her reaction. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to pet a horse.”
“So you’ve been around them before?”
“Oh my goodness, yes.” She patted the animal on the softest part of its body, its muzzle, a place that felt like velvet. “When I was younger I used to ride all the time. My mom showed horses and I did, too, up until her death when I was sixteen. My dad died at the same time. Car accident.”
And even after all these years, it still ached like the dickens. She wasn’t all that close to her in-laws. They hadn’t approved of her being a blue blood. That’s what Trevor had called her. He must have seen the twinge of pain in her eyes because he crossed his arms and drew himself up, the softness in him fading.
“We should get back.” Had her words upset him? “You have a lot of work to do,” he added.
He’d gone back to the uptight, aloof business owner, and for the life of her she didn’t know why. She was the one with a sad past. First her parents and then her husband had died. Some days, it just didn’t seem fair.
“Sure.”
She reluctantly returned to the vehicle, gazing at the sorrel horse that watched them drive away. They headed back in silence, and Naomi wondered if she should ask him about her kids, if it’d be okay to show them around, but something made her hold back.
“Thank you for the opportunity to work with you,” she said when he dropped her off.
“Don’t thank me, thank my sister.” He glanced at her quickly. “I’ll expect you to start work at eight tomorrow morning. Feel free to show your kids around. You might not have time over the next few weeks.”
He left her standing there, the tires even kicking up a little bit of gravel as he headed back to the garage on the far side of the house. Naomi watched him drive away with dread in her heart.
What have I done? she wondered.
And was it too late to change her mind?
Chapter Three (#ue35c056c-4cff-5d8a-ab32-d5237e52bae2)
She would be here any moment now. He listened for her footfalls on the steps leading to the second floor. She had her own entrance to the house, through the kitchen, and he suspected she’d make use of it today.
He’d given her the pass code and instructions for his alarm yesterday, although he probably should have given her some kind of schedule, too. An oversight he would soon rectify. He stared out the row of windows that stretched across the second story of his home office, not really focusing on the view.
She still wore her ring.
And yesterday, when they’d talked about her husband’s dog, she’d seemed lost. It had hit him hard for some reason. Maybe because she reminded him of his sister, who’d been through the same thing. There was just something...sad about her that had touched him when she’d told him about the Malinois, and then later, when she’d been petting Zippy.
His gaze slid over the front of his property, watching for movement in the brush. Old habits die hard.
Something stared up at him. Jax froze.
A dog. Big dark eyes held his gaze. If not for the contrast of the dark hair against the muted gray trunk of an oak tree, he wouldn’t have seen him at all.
“Well, I’ll be—”
She really had seen a dog. There’d been a part of him that had wondered if she’d imagined it. Maybe confused a fawn for a canine. Or a coyote for a domestic dog.
“Am I late?”
He didn’t turn around. “That dog is back.” It was crazy the way the animal stared up at him, almost as if he saw him through the glass. Maybe he did.
“Is he brown?”
He nodded.
“Mohawk?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” She came forward. “Where?”
He pointed. “Out by that tree.”
The smell of her body lotion or perfume or whatever wafted toward him. Vanilla and lemons.
“We should try to catch him.”
She sounded as Southern as Georgia peach pie. He finally looked away from the dog to peer over at her. Even in profile she was deeply and extraordinarily beautiful. She’d worn her hair loose around her shoulders, the bulk of it resting against an off-white sweater. An ambient morning glow filtered in through his windows and highlighted the paleness of her skin and the gorgeous blue of her eyes.
“Stay here.”
He didn’t give her time to respond; frankly, he was almost glad to leave her side. He didn’t like noticing how stunning she was. She worked for him. Her looks were something he didn’t want to dwell too deeply upon, so he stepped away from her, ducking through the entrance of his office and turning left, toward the massive stairwell that bisected the house. He’d always thought stained wood and wrought iron balustrade just a tad over the top, but it served its purpose well. He headed straight for the front door.
“Do you have a leash?”
She had clearly ignored his order to stay put. Why didn’t that surprise him? “No.”
“Maybe I should go get one of mine.”
He burst out onto his porch. The dog didn’t move. He headed toward the tree that it cowered behind, noting the matted fur and the skin that hung off its bones like a coat that was too big. It seemed to be some kind of terrier breed, an overgrown Toto that’d gotten too big for the basket. And it looked like it had a Mohawk. That was what she’d meant earlier.
“That’s him. That’s the one I was telling you about.”
“Go call animal control.”
“No.”
He glanced over at her sharply. She didn’t seem to notice, just moved past him. “Let’s see if we can catch him first.” Her feet crunched on the rocks of his gravel driveway.
“Leave it alone. It might have rabies.”
She stopped, turned to face him, the look on her face the same one she no doubt gave to her kids when they said something ridiculous, like maybe a candy bar would be good for breakfast. It raised his hackles. He’d been up for hours and he was pretty sure the scruff on his chin and the ends of his hair stood up on end, and he was tired, which might explain his cranky mood.
“I sincerely doubt it has rabies. Like I said, we need to catch it.” She turned back to the animal. “Poor thing. It’s been weeks since he’s had a good meal.”
“All the more reason to call animal control.”
He turned to go back to the house to do exactly that, but she half turned and caught him with a “No,” and it was hard to say who was more startled, because she stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then jerked her gaze up at the same time she released his fingers.
“I mean, please don’t do that. Not right now. Let’s see if we can catch him first.”
“I don’t think he wants to be caught.”
“Come here, Fido,” she crooned softly, once again ignoring him.
“Fido?” he heard himself say.
“Shush,” she told him.
Shush?
She hunched over a little, and God help him, his eyes dropped to her backside and the way her jeans clung to her curves and he forgot his disgruntlement and cursed inwardly instead.
“There you go,” she crooned softly as she moved toward the oak tree near the edge of his driveway. “Don’t be shy. Remember? We met yesterday.”
The dog didn’t move and Jax found himself eating his words because the mutt didn’t run away at all. He reached out with his nose, sniffing her.
“Do you have a rope?”
“Uh, I have no idea.” And if he did have one, who knew where it was. He’d paid someone to move him in. The past couple months had been a constant game of hide-and-seek.
“A belt then?” She glanced up at him, still standing next to the dog, gently stroking his head, her wedding ring catching his eye. “Or a tie?”
“I’ll go see what I can find.”
This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his morning going at all. He’d imagined her sitting across the desk from him. Had planned to give her a to-do list a mile long. That would have kept her out of his hair. Instead he found himself standing in front of her and contemplating the odds of her obeying an order from him to let animal control deal with the situation.
“You know what? You stay here. I’ll go inside. I have a leash we can use.” A smile stretched across her already wide mouth.
“Here. You take him,” she added.
But the moment she moved, the dog bolted. “Hey,” she cried, making a lunge for him. She landed on air, her breath rushing out of her with an oomph.
She immediately rolled onto her back, Jax torn between revulsion and dismay because she’d managed to cover the front of her pretty off-white sweater with streaks of dirt.
“That little jerk,” she said, using her hands to sit up. The dog ran away like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. “Now we’ll never catch him.”
“Told you we should have called animal control.”
“I can’t believe he did that.”
He moved forward, holding a hand out to help her up. She took it willingly, and the way she smiled at him, her eyes bright and twinkling, her whole face lit up, it socked him in the solar plexus. Man. She could sell rain to Noah with that grin.
“Perhaps you’ll listen to me next time.”
He hadn’t meant the words to come out sounding so stern, but he saw her smile falter.
“Perhaps I will.”
She flicked her chin up and Jax couldn’t decide what her best feature was, her stunning eyes or the power of her grin.
She pulled her hand out of his grip and brushed herself off. “Looks like I’m going to have to change.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Maybe I can get my kids to catch him when he comes back.”
“Maybe.”
What the hell was wrong with him that he watched her hands on her breasts, that a part of his mind went on its own little safari wondering if they were as firm as they...
“Meet back in my office when you’ve changed.”
He turned away before she could spot the bright shade of red that ran up the side of his neck, at least judging by the heat that scorched his skin. And the way he clenched his hands. Or the way his whole body had tensed.
Mother of two, remember. Widow. Still wears the wedding ring.
Did he need a better reason to steer clear?
* * *
“WHAT A MESS.”
Naomi stared at her reflection in the mirror and spotted a leaf in her hair. Could she have made a bigger fool of herself?
“Are you sure he ran toward the road?” T.J. asked.
He was excited beyond belief at the prospect of a hunting expedition. He’d even changed into a camouflage outfit.
“I’m sure. But you’re to stay within sight of the house, you hear me?” He ran out of her bedroom. “And take Sam with you.”
“Really, Mom?” her daughter drawled.
“Really, Sam,” she called back. She didn’t know what had happened to her sweet daughter, but she’d disappeared into a cloud of puberty.
She dashed into the bathroom as big as a hotel room to fix her hair, the sound of the front door closing behind her kids echoing through the house. She couldn’t believe the size of her new digs. It was nearly a hike from the front door to the back to her massive bedroom and the walk-in closet that housed her pathetic wardrobe.
It took her a quick second to brush her hair. She stepped back to examine her long-sleeved white shirt—her standard uniform for life, that and jeans. It might be June in California, but the lack of humidity made it feel like winter in Georgia.
Off you go for round two.
Her own entrance to his home was at the very back of her apartment, beyond a door that might look like a linen closet but wasn’t. There was a hallway with a washer and dryer to her right, and beyond that another door that led to his house. The security buttons beeped as she punched numbers. A long beep sounded when she’d finished, followed by a snick as the door unlocked. She half expected him to be on the other side. Maybe pop out from around the hallway that led to his kitchen.
And what a kitchen it was—like something that belonged to a reality cooking show, one where celebrity chefs and top models cooked. Large rectangular terra-cotta bricks made up the floor. The entrance at the end of her hallway was an arch, one made entirely of bricks. As were the walls. In the far wall sat a giant stainless steel hood with a double stove beneath.
She reached out a hand and glided a finger across the island in the middle. The off-white marble was cold to the touch. Not even the fixture that hung above it—three lights made into one—could warm its surface. The whole house felt that way, she thought, entering the main foyer. It was stunning. A true work of art, but unlived in, which was strange because she knew Jax’s sister had lived in the apartment she’d taken over, and she must have cooked in the kitchen a time or two. She paused for a moment at the entrance to the living room, trying to put her finger on what it was.
No plants. Not even a fake one.
To her right sat a sweeping staircase, and just beyond that, a cobblestoned fireplace. But if she owned this gorgeous place she’d have stuffed a massive ficus in the corner. Maybe even some pointed palms at the corners of the couch in the sunken living room. Something that would catch the light from the double row of windows and set off the granite floor. Whatever. Not her place, and it never would be. What was her problem was the granite floor. She could see her reflection in it and she didn’t want to think about how much work it would be to maintain it. No wonder he needed a housekeeper.
She turned toward the stairs, but she paused as she stared out the cathedral windows along the front. T.J. ran through the grove of trees across the road, clearly on the trail of something. Sam followed reluctantly behind, her brown hair long and down her back, head bowed.
She had her phone.
Dear Lord in heaven. She might have to have the thing surgically removed. For a moment she contemplated telling her to put the thing away and keep an eye on her brother, but the property was fully fenced. How much trouble could they get into searching for a dog? Besides, she needed to get to work.
Work.
She had a list of chores he wanted done daily. And now he wanted help planning an event. She placed her hand on the smooth burl railing. And he wanted her to act as a maid. And a hostess. Lord, it sounded like she’d be busy in the coming weeks. But busy was good. Busy kept her mind off thinking of Trev and how much she missed him still.
“Knock, knock,” she said, rounding the corner of his office. There was a double row of windows downstairs and the same in his office, although she could see the A-line of the roof from where she stood because the second-floor windows were snug up against it. Jax sat behind a massive desk made out of a slab of burl that matched the stairwell railing.
“Take a seat.” He waved toward the same chair she’d sat in yesterday.
“Okay, I meant to ask you, but what is it made out of?”
He motioned with his hand as if the answer should be clear. “It’s a tree root.”
She felt her brows lift. “Of course. What else would it be?”
He seemed puzzled by her lame attempt at humor. It made her wonder yet again what she’d gotten herself into.
“Are your kids looking for the dog?”
“Out there right now.” She took a seat, the wooden surface uneven and uncomfortable.
He leaned back in his chair and he seemed such a contradiction. He lived on a ranch, yet he looked more like the CEO of a big corporation with his short-cropped hair, the ends dipped in gray. He wore a white button-down shirt, and from what she could tell, jeans and boots. No cowboy hat today. Probably no big buckle. No wide smile of greeting, either. His sister was so sweet and open, yet his face was as closed as the garage door on the other side of his home, his entire demeanor unapproachable. Even his office was a contradiction. It was meant for show. All wide-open space, expensive furniture and sparse furnishings, and yet he had a Lego cowboy sitting in between two massive computer screens, one of them with a COWBOY TOUGH sticker stuck to the back.
She caught him staring at her. Something in his eyes made her smile fade.
“So I thought it would be a good idea to give you a to-do list this morning.” He glanced at the screen on his right.
She shifted in her seat. A to-do list? In addition to her housekeeping list? The man knew how to keep a woman busy.
“Great.”
He slid a sheet of paper in her direction. “You’ll see the first item on the list is to call animal control.”
She almost shoved the thing back at him. “No.” And she even surprised herself with the sharpness of her tone.
“Excuse me?”
It was the third time that day she’d said no to him, but she didn’t care. “I told you we should catch him.”
“He’s a stray.”
“He’s lost and alone and scared. I see it in his eyes. I refuse to send him to a place where he’ll feel even more alone and afraid.”
He shook his head. “You presume he’s lost. It’s more likely that he was dumped.”
Her stomach lurched at the thought. Who would do such a thing? “I still don’t want him to go to a shelter. They’ll kill him.”
“Not necessarily. Someone might adopt him.”
“A dog like that? One that doesn’t want human company? No.”
She could tell he wasn’t pleased by her argument. Great. Five minutes into her meeting with the man and already she’d managed to antagonize him.
“Just let the kids try to catch him. I’m sure once Tramp realizes we want to help him, he’ll come around.”
“Tramp?”
She nodded. “From the movie. Doesn’t he look just like him?”
“I don’t know. Never seen it.”
She sat back in her seat, winced when her spine made contact with the back. “Never?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
The poor, sad little man. “Well, trust me. He looks just like him.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She glanced down at the list he handed her again. “Research caterers?” She tipped her head up. “I don’t have a computer.”
Another blank stare. “Not even a tablet?”
She shook her head. “I had one, a laptop I mean, but my daughter dropped it on the way here. It fell out of the back seat of my truck and shattered the screen. I have a smart phone, but that’s it.”
His look was akin to someone being told ten plus ten was two. For some reason, it made her want to smile. Nerves, she told herself. Smiles and silly giggles had always been her go-to reaction when she was tense.
“Will that be a problem?” she asked.
He slowly shook his head. “I’ll have a laptop delivered to you by the end of the day.”
Of course he would. She glanced down at the list again. “I guess that means I can’t do items three, four and five, either. I’d need access to email for that.”
“You don’t have email?”
“Of course I do, I just think it’d be easier to research and solicit bids from caterers using a laptop instead of a phone, don’t you?”
He pressed his lips together. “Okay then. Maybe now would be a good time to go over the housekeeping list I gave you yesterday.”
“Sure.”
His brows drew together. “Is there something wrong with your chair?”
She realized then that she’d been shifting around in it a lot. “This thing is like some kind of medieval torture device. Clearly, whoever you asked to decorate this place didn’t actually expect anyone to live here.”
He kept doing that—kept looking at her like she had Christmas lights hanging from her nose. Just then the phone on his desk rang. He glanced at the number and answered. He listened intently for a moment and then replied in perfect French, something she didn’t understand, and he spoke it so fluently and so well that it was her turn to have her mouth drop open.
Who was this man?
She’d been expecting a sun-bronzed, boot-wearing cowboy. Maybe someone quite a bit older than her. But someone who was kind and approachable, like his sister. Instead she sat across from Clint Eastwood in his younger years. Maybe when he’d played the role of Dirty Harry.
He hung up and said, “All right, let’s go over the list I gave you yesterday.”
“I don’t have it with me.”
“That’s okay.” He clearly had a copy because he read from it. “Floors. As noted, use your best judgment when those need to be done. I’m not around a lot of the time, so you might not need to do them very frequently.” He met her gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away. “Windows, as needed. You’ll find all the cleaning supplies in a pantry in the kitchen. I’ve tried to think of everything you’ll need. Let me know if you’ll need anything else.”
She nodded, not that he was looking at her.
“Dusting, empty the trash, cleaning the light fixtures—that’s all self-explanatory, and like the floors, I’ll leave that up to you.”
He set the paper down. “One thing I wanted to mention was laundry. It’s not on the list, but I was going to ask if you’d mind doing mine in addition to your own.”
“No. I don’t mind at all.” Could he see how flushed her face had turned at the thought of folding his underwear? She hoped not.
“I don’t expect you to iron. And if something needs to be dry-cleaned, I’ll take care of that myself.” He picked up the list again. “Let me know if you think anything needs to be professionally cleaned. Carpets. Drapery. And keep your eye on fixtures and whatnot. This is a new home, but things can still break.”
“Got it.”
He set the list down again. “Did my sister tell you what I do for a living?”
She sat up straighter. “Yes.”
“Good. You should know I have accounts all over the world, which means I travel a lot.”
“She mentioned that, too.”
“Although I’ve slowed down lately. I’ve made a commitment to my sister and nephew. I try to spend as much time as I can with them, although sometimes it’s just not possible—my work takes me away from home. That’s where you come in. I’ll need you to keep an eye on the place. I’ve hired someone to manage the ranch and all its livestock affairs, but he’s coming all the way from Texas and he won’t be here for a couple of weeks. Until then, the Reynoldses are a big help.”
“That’s who we should call about Tramp. Claire Reynolds has her dog rescue.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that before. “She’ll know what to do.”
He nodded. “Good idea. You can add that to your to-do list.”
The phone on his desk rang again. She expected him to pick it up. Maybe start speaking in Russian or something. Nothing would surprise her with this man. Instead he ignored the call.
“Back to the security of the ranch.” He leaned toward her. “No houseguests.”
She lifted her brows. “None?”
“Not unless they’re authorized by me.”
“Not even the tooth fairy?” She couldn’t resist. He just seemed so stern.
He’d gone back to staring at her again. “Tooth fairies are the exception.”
“What about Santa?”
“Approved.”
“And the Easter Bunny?”
“Roger that.”
“My kids will be relieved.”
Lord love a duck, was there an actual living, breathing smile on his face? She’d made him smile. She had no idea why that filled her with such a sense of accomplishment, but it did.
But then the smile faded. He stared at her. She stared back, and she realized she liked him. She had no idea why. He hadn’t exactly been all warm and fuzzy. She’d spent most of their time together arguing with him and he didn’t seem to mind. Actually, he seemed to enjoy their tooth fairy conversation.
“Anyone else?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“I’ll let you know.”
“Good.” He glanced at his open laptop again. “Once you receive your laptop you’ll receive a pass code for my wireless network. Under no circumstances is it to be shared.”
“Not even with my kids?”
“They can have it, too. Just not anyone outside the ranch.”
“Got it.”
“You should also be aware that there are security cameras. They’re discreet, but they cover a wide variety of angles, so be mindful.”
“Good to know in case one of my kids gets lost.”
“Also, from time to time I’ll have guests. When that happens I’ll expect you to remain out of sight.”
Guests, hmm? Of the female variety, she supposed. That, too, made her blush because she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she stumbled upon a naked guest.
“And I don’t think I need to remind you to keep...” He looked up at her. “What are their names?”
“Samantha and T.J. We call her Sam for short.”
“Please keep Sam and T.J. out of my house. Unless there’s an emergency.”
“They were already told, but I’ll remind them.”
“And I should probably meet them. Bring them by tomorrow.”
Without thinking, she saluted. His brows lifted. She smiled. He stared at her again, a long, drawn-out stare that made her uncomfortable.
“So that’s it for yesterday’s list. Do what you can with today’s to-do list. It should be self-explanatory. You can add calling Claire and asking her if she’ll help you with that dog.” He stood. “Let me know what she says.”
“What about cooking for you?” She tried not to fidget as she stood in front of him. “I have to confess, I’m dying to use that oven.”
He appeared to consider her words. “You won’t have to cook for me much. I like to graze more than eat big meals.”
“Not ever?” She couldn’t contain her disappointment.
“And when I do cook, I actually enjoy cooking myself.”
Once again, her mouth went slack. “Really?”
And there it was again: the soft chuff. Definitely laughter.
“Yes, really.”
“So I guess it’s back to my hidey-hole then.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
She nodded, resisted the urge to smile one last time, then turned and walked away, but as she traveled across the cavernous width of his office, her tennis shoes making nary a sound on the hardwood floors, she had the strangest sensation. He watched her. She was so sure of it that she paused at the doorway, glanced back.
Their gazes connected.
She froze. She wasn’t sure why. It was the look on his face. It wasn’t one that made her think he was attracted to her in any way shape or form. To be honest, she’d been on the receiving end of those looks more than once since Trev had died. No, it was more like she was a weed he’d spotted in the fancy hedges outside.
Her lips lifted in an automatic smile. He didn’t smile back. She turned her smile up to its full wattage. Still no response. Good heavens. The man had the personality of a wooden stick.
“See you later.”
And then he did something she didn’t expect. He saluted to her. It made her laugh. She didn’t know why, but it did, and she didn’t mind letting him hear it as she walked toward the stairs.
Chapter Four (#ue35c056c-4cff-5d8a-ab32-d5237e52bae2)
She’d laughed at him.
It bothered him. Actually, a lot of things about her bothered him. Her looks affected him in a way he didn’t want to admit. The thought of her washing his undergarments had filled him with mild horror, and yet before he’d met her he’d planned for his new housekeeper to do exactly that. Now...?
He was so deep in thought about her that he jumped when his phone chimed. Incoming call from a number he didn’t recognize.
“My kids didn’t have any luck finding the dog,” said a deeply Southern voice. “So I called Claire and she’s on her way over with a trap. She thinks we’ll have no problem, but we both agree he’s not going to a shelter.”
He just shook his head, not that Naomi could see it. “Fine. You catch him. You deal with him.”
“Sounds good. I told her to meet us out front.”
“Us?”
“I presumed you’d want a say in where we place the trap.”
She had a point.
But it wasn’t until he was outside, watching her round the corner of his house, that he admitted he’d been kidding himself. He could have left the matter to Claire. She was the professional dog handler. But he’d wanted to see Naomi. Had wanted to look for that mischievous grin of hers again.
Why?
It alarmed him, the realization that he was attracted to her.
Claire wasn’t there yet, but Naomi spotted him sitting on the porch, the maroon cushions beneath him not the least bit comfortable. He really would need to do something about his furniture. He couldn’t have guests over and have them sit on... What was it she’d called it? Medieval torture devices.
“My kids are bummed they won’t get to catch Tramp.”
She smiled in amusement and it brightened her face in a way that made him want to... He frowned. He didn’t know what it made him want to do.
She crossed in front of him, a hint of vanilla trailing in her wake, and sat on the matching redwood seat.
“Ugh.” Her smile faltered, but only a little. “Did they use rocks for stuffing?”
“It’s the buttons,” he said, shifting in his own seat.
She leaned over, her long red hair swinging forward. It was later in the day now and the sun loved the color. It set the strands afire in such a way that he knew it was natural. All of her was natural, from the dark brows to the thick lashes to the bee-stung lips.
“You mind me asking who decorated? I might hire them to make furniture for my kids to sit in when they’re bad.”
Almost, almost, he laughed. He caught it just in time. He didn’t want her to know how easily she charmed him, not since they’d be working so closely together. “You might be onto something.”
She straightened suddenly, and he realized a white van was coming down his long drive. They had an uninterrupted view of the land. He’d planned it that way. In his line of business, you always used the terrain to your advantage. Nestled up against a hill, it wouldn’t be easy to breach his home from the back, just the front, and he’d helped mitigate the weakness by clearing his property so that only oak trees remained. No shrubs for people to hide behind. Not that he expected enemies. Still, it was always good to be prepared.
“Claire,” Naomi said, standing and already on the move.
He’d somehow forgotten that they knew each other. Although Ethan had recommended her for the job, it was clear she’d formed a bond with the man’s wife based on the way she ran to Claire’s vehicle, her image reflected back to him on its surface.
“That was quick,” he heard Naomi say as Claire exited the van.
“I only live half a mile away,” Claire said.
The two women hugged and drew back, and Jax realized he’d never seen Claire smile before. Not truly smile. The grin she gave Naomi could have beamed signals up to the moon. They both turned and started walking toward him.
“Are you and the kids settling in okay?”
Naomi nodded. “The kids were all over the place this morning looking for the dog. T.J. said he had a blast. Even Sam seemed to have enjoyed herself. The fresh air is probably good for them.”
“I can’t wait to meet them. And to see Janus.”
“You will. We can all have lunch together.”
“Perfect.”
Naomi’s face was an entire movie cast of emotions, Jax realized, and he couldn’t look away. Everything she felt showed. Perhaps that was what fascinated him. In his line of work you never let anyone see what you were thinking. Naomi let it all hang out.
“So you found a dog,” Claire said when she made it to the porch, her own ink-black hair loose around her shoulders. Up until he’d met Naomi, he’d thought Claire had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Now he realized they hadn’t even touched the surface.
“He was on the front porch when I got here yesterday.”
“And you tried to catch him.”
“Actually, no. I thought he belonged to Jax.” She glanced at him, smiling. “It was only later that I realized my mistake, and when we tried to catch him earlier, he ran away.”
Jax stood, and he didn’t hesitate to open his arms. Ethan’s wife was petite as a butterfly, but she had the strength of an armored truck. Her son, Adam, had been diagnosed with cancer at a young age. But throughout his many treatments, she’d been there for him, nursing him and caring for him, and you would never have known how sick Adam had been watching him ride around the ranch these days. She’d truly been through hell and come out on the other side and he admired her for it.
“What?” she asked, drawing back. “Tired of chasing bad guys? You have to run off a poor, defenseless dog?”
“It wasn’t my fault the dog got away.”
“Sure it wasn’t.”
He just shook his head. “We need to catch it.”
“Catch him and feed him and get him cleaned up,” Naomi interjected. “Then we’ll decide what to do with him.”
Jax crossed his arms in front of him. She stared right back, not backing down. It made him want to kiss the defiance right off her—
Whoa.
What?
“Okay, you two. Whatever you decide to do, we have to get the dog first. I’ll go get the trap, show you how to work it.”
Naomi was still staring at him. He shifted his gaze to Claire.
“I should fire you,” he heard himself say, and it shocked the hell out of him because he’d never, not ever, said such a thing to an employee.
“Even if you do, I’m still going to leave here with that dog.”
And she would, too. They stared at each other, Naomi’s jaw thrust forward in what he’d come to realize was stubborn defiance. Yet far from making him mad, it made him want to smile.
His gaze moved to Claire. She stared at the two of them in avid fascination. For some reason he went from amused to uncomfortable.

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