Книга - Midnight Under the Mistletoe

Midnight Under the Mistletoe
Sara Orwig


She didn’t look like any secretary Zach had ever met. He needs a livein assistant while he recuperates from an injury. But when Emma Hillman arrives at his Texas ranch with her suitcase, he knows he’ll have to work hard to resist her. She’s sexy and efficient, but way too family oriented for a risktaking globetrotter like him.










“Common sense tells me to walk away now,” Emma whispered. “You have a reputation for never going out with an employee.”

“I never have,” Zach answered. “That doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I want this job.”

“Don’t quit on me,” he replied, his voice raspy and quiet. A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll double your salary.”

“Double my salary?” she repeated, shaking her head.

“You don’t need to pack and go. Don’t walk out over a few casual kisses.”

Exasperated and stung over his dismissal of kisses that had shaken her, she stared at him. “Those kisses weren’t casual to my way of thinking,” she whispered.

She stepped close, put her arm around his neck and placed her mouth on his, kissing him with all the heat and fury she felt over his dismissive attitude. In seconds, she broke off the kiss and looked up with satisfaction.

“I’d say your body’s reaction isn’t casual, either,” she said, catching her breath.


Dear Reader,

Depending on circumstances, holidays can be painful or joyous, and Midnight Under the Mistletoe is about those opposing feelings.

For some, Christmas is a family celebration. It is a kaleidoscope of events and people, funny moments, happy ones, touching occasions, unpredictable occurrences and as the years go by, the holiday is laced with memories of loved ones and good times. This story, as well as one of the characters, reflects that view of Christmas. Also, the story is about the breaking away of the hardened shell of someone’s hurt and loneliness acquired through too many disappointing childhood Christmases.

Watch handsome billionaire Texan Zach Delaney’s life transform when Emma Hillman pours her love of Christmas into his life. His stunning secretary, who is a total opposite in personality and completely off-limits to him, becomes the biggest temptation of his life. What happens when a man who has always skipped Christmas falls in love with a woman who is the embodiment of the December celebration?

Thank you for selecting Midnight Under the Mistletoe.

Happy holidays to all!

Sara Orwig




About the Author


SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.




Midnight Under

the Mistletoe

Sara Orwig



















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


With special thanks to

Stacy Boyd, Shana Smith and Maureen Walters.

May you have a blessed and joyous holiday.




One


Another secretary to interview.

Zach Delaney stood at the window of his west Texas ranch and watched the approaching car. This candidate was prompt. He had heard this one lived in Dallas, was single, only twenty-four, a homebody who insisted on weekends free to go home. She wanted a week off before Christmas and two days after Christmas. If she could do the work, it was all right with him. He didn’t know her, but she had worked more than two years at his Dallas office, which held the corporate offices of his demolition company, his trucking company and the architectural firm he owned. She’d risen fast and was highly recommended.

As Zach watched the car approach the house, he thought about the other secretaries he’d interviewed and the conversation he’d had with his brother Will, who had stopped by an hour ago.

He remembered Will laughing. “I know you—you’re probably about to go up in smoke from boredom.”

“You’ve got that right. I feel as if I’m a prisoner and time seems to have stopped,” Zach replied, raking his fingers through his thick, brown curls.

Will nodded. “Don’t forget—you’re supposed to stay off your feet and keep your foot elevated.”

“I’m doing that most of the time. Believe me, I want my foot to get well.”

Will smiled. “You should have just stayed in Dallas after Garrett’s wedding earlier this month. You haven’t been cooped up like this since you were five and had the mumps.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“That was twenty-seven years ago. I don’t know how you’ve made it this long in demolition without getting hurt.”

“I’ve been lucky and careful, I guess.”

“If you don’t end up hiring today’s interviewee, I’ll send someone out to work for you. If I had known the difficulty you’re having finding a competent secretary, I would have sent one before now.”

“Thanks. One secretary lasted a few days before deciding the ranch was too isolated. Another talked incessantly,” Zach grumbled, causing Will to laugh. His brother’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“One of those women hovered over me and told me what to do to take care of myself. Actually, Will, instead of hiring a secretary to help go through Dad’s stuff, maybe we should just trash it all. Dad’s been gone almost a year now and this stuff hasn’t been touched. It’s not important. The only value that stuff can have is sentimental. That makes it worthless as time passes.”

“We don’t know for sure there isn’t something of value in those boxes,” Will argued.

Zach nodded. “Knowing our father, he could have put some vital papers, money or something priceless in these boxes, just so someone would have to wade through them.”

“You volunteered to go through his papers while you recuperate from your fall. You don’t have to.”

“I’ll do it. The secretary will help go through all the letters and memorabilia while I also keep up with work. You became guardian for Caroline and you handled a lot of the dealings to bring our half sister into the family. Ryan’s knee-deep in getting his new barn built while commuting back and forth to his business in Houston. Besides, I’m the one incapacitated with time on my hands. I’m it, for now. I don’t know what got into Dad, keeping all this memorabilia. He would never have actually written a family history.”

“Our father was not one you could figure. His actions were unfathomable except for making money. He probably intended to write a family history. In his old age I think he became nostalgic.” Will headed toward the door and then paused. “You sure you don’t want to join us for Thanksgiving? I’ll send someone to get you,” he added, and Zach was touched by Will’s concern.

“Thanks, but no thanks. You enjoy Ava’s family. Ryan leaves soon to spend Thanksgiving with the latest woman in his life—I can’t keep up with which one this is. I’ll be fine and enjoy myself all by myself.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. Also, it’s less than six weeks until Christmas. We’re going to Colorado for the holiday. Do you want to come along? We’ll be happy to have you join us.”

“Thank you.” Zach grinned. “I think I’ll go to the house in Italy. It’ll be beautiful there and you know I don’t do Christmas.”

“So who is the beautiful Italian lady? I’m sure there is one.”

“Might be more than one.” Zach smiled. “You hadn’t been into Christmas much yourself until you got Caroline. Now you have to celebrate.”

“Truthfully, with Caroline, it’s been fun. Come with us and you’ll see.”

“I love little Caroline, but you go ahead. Doc told me to stay put and this is a better place than snowy mountains in Colorado.”

“That’s true, but we’d take care of you.”

Zach shook his head. “Thanks, Will, for coming out.”

“Let me know about the secretary. I’ll get you one who’s excellent.”

“With Margo on maternity leave, I may have to find a new one permanently. I don’t want to think about that.”

Now, Zach shifted his foot and glared at it, recalling the moment the pile of rubble had given way and he had fallen, breaking an ankle, plus small bones, causing a sprain and getting one deep gash. Staying off his foot most of the time was hell. He didn’t like working daily in an office, and the doctor told him he couldn’t go back to working on site or travel much, but he could do some work at the ranch and stay off his foot as best he could.

Zach sighed as the car slowed in front of the house. Emma Hillman. She climbed out of her car and came up the walk.

Startled, he momentarily forgot her mission. A tall, windblown, leggy redhead, who would turn heads everywhere, was striding toward his front door. With looks like hers, she belonged on a model’s catwalk or doing a commercial or in a bar, not striding purposefully toward his house in the hopes of doing secretarial chores. Even though she wore a tailored, dark green suit with an open black coat over it, she had a wild, attention-getting appearance.

The west Texas wind swept over her, catching more tendrils of long red hair and blowing them around her face. Immobilized, Zach stared. She didn’t look like any secretary on his staff in any office he had. Nor did she resemble the homebody type to his way of thinking. All those recommendations she had—they must have been based on her looks. His spirits sank. He would have to ask Will to find him somebody else. He needed someone who would stay on the ranch during the week. This one was a declared homebody. Add that to her looks and he couldn’t imagine it working out. He also couldn’t imagine her being an efficient secretary, either. He would give Emma Hillman a lot of work and in less than two days, she would probably fold and run as her predecessor had.

When the bell rang, he could hear Nigel get the door. Zach hobbled back to the middle of the room to wait to meet her. Before he sent her packing, he might get her home phone number. Actually, even if she did work out here, when the temporary job ended she’d go back to the corporate office, so getting her phone number was only wishful thinking. She’d still be an employee. Even so, eagerness to meet her took the boredom out of the morning. This promised to be his most enjoyable moment since he arrived at the ranch.

Emma Hillman pushed a button and heard chimes. Her gaze swept over the large porch. The ranch was not at all what she had pictured in her mind. She had expected a rustic, sprawling house, not a mansion that bordered on palatial. When the door swung open, she faced a slender gray-haired man.

“Welcome, Miss Hillman?”

“Yes,” she said, entering as he stepped back.

“I’m Nigel Smith. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Delaney is waiting.”

Following him, she glanced around the enormous entrance. Wood floors had a dark appearance with a treatment that gave them an antiqued quality and probably would not show boot marks or much of anything else.

She tried to finger-comb her hair and tuck tendrils back into the clips that held her hair on either side of her head. She had been warned about Zach Delaney—that he was difficult to please, curt, all business. Actually, he had conflicting descriptions—a charismatic hunk by some; others pronounced him a demanding ogre. She had been told too many times about her three predecessors who hadn’t lasted more than a day or two.

She didn’t care—it was a fabulous opportunity for another promotion in the company and the pay was terrific right at Christmastime. Even though she was going to miss being in Dallas with her family, she was determined to cooperate with Zach Delaney and be the secretary who got to stay.

Nigel led her through an open door into a large room with shelves of books on two walls, a huge fireplace on another and all glass on the fourth. In a hasty glance she barely saw any of her surroundings because her attention was ensnared by the tall man standing in the center of the room.

His prominent cheekbones and a firm jaw were transformed by a mass of dark brown curls and riveting blue eyes. A black knit shirt and tight jeans revealed muscles and a fit physique. Even standing quietly, he appeared commanding.

Dimly, she heard Nigel present her and she thanked him as he left, but her gaze was locked with the head of her company, Zach Delaney. Her breathing altered, her heart raced and her palms became damp. She felt flustered, drawn to him, unable to look away. For heartbeats, they gazed at each other while silence stretched.

With an effort she offered her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Delaney,” she said. Her voice was soft in her ears.

He stepped forward, his hand closing around hers, his warm fingers breaking the spell she had been temporarily enveloped in. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch. I’m happy to meet you, and it’s Zach. We’re going to work closely together. No ‘Mr. Delaney.’ And please have a seat.” His voice was deep, warm and sexy, an entertainer’s voice.

Feeling foolish, yet unable to control the physical reaction she was having to him, she sat in a leather chair. Another chair was close and he turned it to face her, sitting near her. “I’ve read your recommendations, which are excellent. If you want this job, you’re to move here for the duration of the time you work for me—five, possibly six weeks total. Your weekends are free from one on Friday afternoon until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

“That’s fine with me,” she replied, thinking someone should have warned her about his appeal. He rarely was in the Dallas office and executive offices were on the top floor. She had never seen him or crossed paths with him before. She had no idea she would have such an intense reaction to meeting him.

“I expect this job to end around Christmas, when my foot heals. You can return to the Dallas office and I will be on my way back to the field.”

“Fine,” she replied, barely able to concentrate on what he was saying for getting lost in vivid blue eyes. His conversation might have been practical, all business, but the look in his eyes was not. Blue depths probed, examined and conveyed a sensual appraisal that shimmied warmly over her nerves. “As I mentioned in our phone call, I’d like to take that week before Christmas and two days afterward if the job hasn’t ended.”

“That’s fine. As far as your duties, you’re here to help with any correspondence or business matters I have and to help me sort through some family papers. My father intended to write a family history. He had old letters and family memorabilia that have been passed through generations, that sort of thing. I volunteered to go through all of it while I’m supposed to stay off my feet,” Zach said, waving his hand toward the boxes of papers nearby.

“The memorabilia should be fascinating,” she remarked. “If your ancestors wrote these letters and sent them, how did they get possession of them again?”

“Good question. They wrote other relatives, sisters, brothers, and as far as I can see, everybody saved every word that was put on paper. There are letters in those boxes that aren’t from Delaneys, but are written to a Delaney who saved it. You’d think one person would have tossed them. If the letter isn’t from a Delaney, there is no reason to keep it.”

“I imagine some were tossed. There were probably more since you had such prolific writers in your family.”

“If I were the only Delaney of my generation, I would simply shred the papers this week because I think they’re junk. Some of the letters date back to the 1800s.”

Horrified at the thought of shredding old letters, she stared at him. “The 1800s? It should be spellbinding to read about your relatives,” she blurted before she thought about how it might sound critical of her boss’s attitude.

He smiled. “I suppose it’s a good thing you feel that way because you’ll be reading some of this stuff for me. Anyway, that in general is what I hired you to do. Does this sound acceptable?”

“Certainly. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Great. Feel free to ask questions at any time. I’ll have Nigel see about getting you moved in. You were asked to come prepared to move in. Is this what you did?”

“Yes. I was told to pack for the job because you might hire me and want me to stay.”

“I’m getting desperate for a secretary. The salary should make up for some of the demands,” he said and she merely nodded.

“Nigel is sort of jack-of-all-trades around the house. He acts as butler, assistant and a financial manager. You’ll meet more of our staff, who have homes on the ranch.”

“I wonder if I’ll ever find my way around,” she said as she glanced beyond him toward the hall.

“Nigel will give you a map of the house. We have an indoor pool and one outside. Feel free to swim after or before work hours. We have a gym, too.”

“This is a modernized ranch home.”

“This house has been remodeled many times. The family room was the actual original house, built in the 1800s. Anyway, my grandfather had an elevator installed, so I’m taking it temporarily. You’re welcome to if you want.”

“Thank you, I won’t need the elevator,” she replied with a smile. “I exercise each day, so stairs are good.”

“Great. Do you think we can start work this morning in about an hour?”

“Certainly.”

As he stood, she came to her feet and followed him to the door. He offered his hand. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch, Emma,” he drawled in a mesmerizing voice that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She shook hands again with him, an electric current flashing from the contact while she looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Dark brown curly lashes framed his mesmerizing eyes.

“I hope you find your stay here worthwhile,” he said, a dry, professional statement, but his tone of voice, with those blue eyes focused on her and her hand enveloped in his, made her think of sizzling kisses. Realizing how she was staring, she withdrew her hand and stepped back. He turned to walk into the hall to talk to Nigel, nodded at her, and in seconds she left with Nigel to see where she would stay.

The next hour was a whirlwind of getting unpacked enough to function through the day. To her surprise she had more than a room—it was a suite with a sitting area, a dream bedroom with a four-poster and fruitwood furniture. Dazzled by the lavish quarters, she looked at a bathroom as large as her apartment. The bath held a sunken tub, potted plants, mirrors, an adjoining dressing room plus a huge walk-in closet. She took pictures on her cell phone to send to her sisters. She could imagine how they would ooh and aah over where she was staying. Her paramount concern was how would she work constantly around Zach Delaney. She had heard rumors at the office about how appealing he was, but not from anyone who had actually worked for him. She had talked to one secretary who had spent two days with him and thought he was a monster, piling on work until it was impossible to get done what he demanded. Another secretary had complained about him being silent and abrupt during the day.

When she saw it was time to go back to meet with him, she smoothed her hair into a loose bun and left her room. Trying to familiarize herself with the mansion, she walked to the study where she had met Zach.

He sat behind a desk and stood the minute she appeared in the doorway. Once again, she tried to avoid staring. He looked muscled and fit except for his foot that was wrapped in a bandage and in an oversize health shoe. The unruly curls were a tangle around his face, softening his rugged features.

“Let’s go to the office,” he said, and she walked beside him down a wide hall filled with paintings, plants, side tables and chairs.

As they entered a large room, she drew a deep breath. It was a dream office with two large desks at opposite ends of the room. Shelves lined three walls and the remaining wall was glass with a view of a small pond and well tended grounds up to a white fence. Beyond the fence were stables, a corral and pasture. Through spacious windows, daylight spilled into the room. Fax machines, shredders, computers and electronic equipment filled each end of the office.

“That’s my desk,” he said, pointing to the larger one that was polished, ornately carved dark wood. Forming an L-shape with the desk, a table stood at one end. The table held two computers, one of which had dual oversize monitors. Another computer was centered on his desk. Two laptops and an iPad lay on the table.

The other desk was glass, looking far newer. File cabinets were built into one wall and not noticeable at first glance.

He sat behind his desk, motioning toward a leather chair facing him. She sat, crossing her legs, catching him looking at her legs when she glanced up. She inhaled sharply. She experienced an undercurrent of intense awareness and suspected he did as well. It was unexpected, definitely unwanted. Any hot attraction between them could put her job in jeopardy and this job was important to her. She was saving to go back to college and, ultimately, become qualified to teach. This was a temporary increase in pay she could use to achieve her dream.

“Since you and I and my staff are the only people here, you can dress casually. Jeans are fine.”

She nodded. “Great.”

“The glass desk will be yours. You’ll find a stack of papers I’ve signed that need to be copied and put into the mail.” He leaned back and stretched out his long legs.

She realized she was going to have a difficult time for a few days, focusing on what he was saying because she got lost looking at him.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to read my handwriting. I have a document there for you to type for me to sign. Another stack holds filing. There’s an in-box on the corner of my desk. When you finish anything, if it doesn’t go in the mail or the file, place it in my in-box. If you have any questions, always feel free to ask. Take a break when you want and feel free to get what you want in the kitchen. Did Nigel show you where the kitchen is?”

“Yes, he showed me around briefly.”

“Did you meet my very good cook?”

“Yes, I met Rosie.”

“Good. You can start work each day at 8:00, quit at 4:00 or start at 9:00 and quit at 5:00. You’re stuck here for lunch so we’ll not add that to the time.”

“I prefer 8:00,” she said and he nodded.

“Any questions now?” he asked, giving her a direct look that made her pulse jump another notch.

“One—where do I take the mail?”

“There’s a box on a shelf near your desk that is marked Mail and you put everything in there. One of the hands who works on the ranch will get the mail to take it down to the road to be picked up.”

She nodded and headed over to her desk, feeling her back prickle because she suspected Zach’s gaze was on her. She sat down and looked at the piles of work in front of her, remembering the angry statements from Brenna about Zach Delaney heaping mountains of work on her. It looked like a lot now—hopefully, by the end of the day, she would have made a big enough dent in the stacks to get to keep this job.

Still conscious of him across the room, Emma reached for a stack. As she began to read the first letter, she tried to keep from glancing his way. She pushed the stack aside and picked up a tablet with a bold handwriting. The writing to be typed looked the most time-consuming, so she started with it. In minutes she managed to put Zach out of her thoughts.

When she finished each task, she placed it in the proper pile. Standing, she gathered the work she had completed and put papers for Zach into his in-box. His back was turned as he worked at his computer and she looked at the thick hair curling on the back of his head.

She had not expected to be working in the same room with him. Also, she hadn’t expected to work for someone who took her breath and set her pulse racing just by a glance from his sky-blue eyes.

With a deep sigh, she placed letters in the box for mail and then she started to file.

She looked across the room to see him setting papers in a pile. He picked up the letters in his in-box, glanced at her to catch her watching him again. She turned away to work on her computer, in seconds concentrating on what she was doing for the next half hour. She finished another stack and picked them up to take to his in-box and this time when she glanced his way, she met his gaze.

He seemed to be sitting and watching her. She picked up the papers and carried them to his desk, all the time aware of his steady observation.

As she started to put the letters into the box, he took them and riffled through them before looking at her. “You’re a fast worker. And an accurate one.”

“Thank you. I try to be.”

“I figured with all the work I’ve piled on you this morning, you’d be out of here as fast as the others.”

“I intend to stay,” she said, amused, and realizing he might have been testing to see how she worked. She went back to her desk, again having that tingly feeling across her shoulders, certain he was watching her.

When she glanced at him, he had settled back to read. In seconds, he placed the letter in the stack beside him on his desk.

What kind of man did she work for? When she had gone to work at Z.A.D. Enterprises, she hadn’t given much thought to the head of the business because she’d heard he was rarely in the Dallas office. The business comprised primarily of demolition, but also had a trucking company, an architectural firm and a concrete company. The international company had offices scattered worldwide and she heard Zachary Delaney traveled constantly from site to site, something she would detest. Other than that and the recent grumbling by Brenna, she knew little about him. Not one of the secretaries who had preceded her had said anything about his appeal, about his looks, about anything except he had proven difficult to work for. Maya, as well as Brenna, had thought he was unreceptive and uncommunicative. All had complained the workload was too heavy and she had to agree it was a lot, but it made time fly. On the other hand, around the office the word had always been that he was friendly. Perhaps part of his surly reputation with some secretaries was caused by his being injured and isolated on a ranch.

She returned to the stack, until she heard the scrape of a chair.

He stood and stretched, flexing muscles in his arms. When he glanced her way, she was embarrassed to be caught staring at him again.

“Want some lunch?” Without waiting for her answer, he motioned. “C’mon, we’ll get something to eat. Rosie will have something fixed.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I still have letters, though.”

“C’mon. You’ll like Rosie’s cooking and she’ll be disappointed if you don’t come eat. Those letters aren’t urgent.”

“Very well. You’re the boss and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” Glancing at her watch, Emma was surprised it was half past twelve. “I didn’t realize the time.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, grinning at her. Creases appeared on either side of his mouth in an enticing smile that caused her to smile in return.

“So, Emma, tell me about yourself since we’ll be working together for the next month or so.”

Satisfaction flared because he must mean she would get to stay. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve been at Z.A.D. for two years now. I have an apartment in Dallas and have two sisters and two brothers. My sisters, Sierra and Mary Kate, and Connor, my older brother, are married. Bobby and I are single. What about you?”

“I have two brothers, it was three, one is deceased. My older brother became guardian of our little niece, Caroline.”

“That’s sad. Is your niece’s mother deceased, too?”

“No, her mother walked out when Caroline was a baby. She didn’t want to be tied down with responsibilities, although she had a nanny and someone to cook and clean.”

“I can’t imagine,” Emma said, staring at him.

He shrugged. “One more thing to sour me on marriage. My older brother felt the same way until this year. He just married in September.”

“You don’t want to get married and have a family?”

His mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “Not even remotely. The weeks I’m spending here recuperating are probably the longest I’ve stayed home in Texas in I don’t know when. I’m a traveler.”

“I’ve heard you work all over the world and I know Z.A.D. has offices worldwide. I have a vastly different life. I don’t want to miss a weekend with my family.”

“We’re poles apart there,” he remarked with a smile, directing her into a large kitchen with an adjoining dining room that held a table and chairs, a sofa, a fireplace, two wingback chairs and a bar.

“What’s for lunch, Rosie? Something smells tempting,” he said, raising a lid on a pot on the stove. A stocky woman in a uniform bustled around the kitchen. Her graying hair was in a bun and glasses perched on her turned-up nose.

“Chicken soup there and I have quesadillas or turkey melt sandwiches—your preference.”

“How about soup, plus—” He paused and looked questioningly at Emma. “Either of the choices have any appeal?”

“Of course. Quesadillas, please.”

“Good choice. Rosie’s are special. Soup and quesadillas it is. We can help ourselves, Rosie.”

Bowls and plates were on the counter. With that steady awareness of him at her side, Emma helped herself to a small bowl of soup, surprised when Zach set down his dishes and held her chair as she sat down. The gesture made their lunch together seem far less like boss and secretary eating together than a man and a woman on a date. Rosie appeared with a coffeepot, which Emma declined and Zach accepted.

When he sat, she said, “I’m sure everyone asks, what drew you to demolition?”

“A child’s love of tearing something down, probably. I have an engineering degree and I almost went to architecture school. I have architects working for me so we build where we tear down. We build sometimes where nothing has stood. I find it fascinating work.”

“I hear you go all over the world.” She didn’t add that she knew he was wealthy enough he would never have to work a day if he didn’t want to.

The Delaney wealth was well publicized. She had never known anyone like him before. His love of travel was foreign to her. His disregard for family and marriage dismayed her even more than his apparent disregard for his family history. He had a lifestyle she could not imagine, but the head of the company was light-years from her clerical job, which provided an excellent way to save money to finish her college education.

“So, Zach, your favorite locale is where?” she asked as Rosie brought a platter with steaming quesadillas to set between them.

“There’s too many to have a favorite. I love Paris, I love Torres del Paine, Iguazu Falls, the city of New York. They’re all interesting. Where’s your favorite?”

“Home with my family,” she said, smiling at him, and he shook his head.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase my question,” he said. “Where’s your favorite place outside of Texas?”

She lowered her fork. “I’ve never been outside of Texas.”

One dark eyebrow arched as surprise flashed briefly in his blue eyes. “Never been outside of Texas,” he repeated, studying her as if she had announced she had another set of ears beneath her red hair.

“No, I’m happy here.”

“You might be missing something,” he said, still scrutinizing her with open curiosity.

“I don’t think so, therefore, that’s really all that matters, right?” she asked, certain after today he would have satisfied his curiosity about her and lunch with the boss would cease.

“You’re missing some wonderful places and you don’t even know it.”

She smiled at him again, thinking he might be missing some wonderful family companionship and didn’t even know it. “As long as I’m content, it doesn’t matter.”

“So tell me about this family of yours and what they all do.”

“My family lives near me in Dallas. Dad is an accountant and my mom is a secretary. My younger brother works part-time and is in school at the University of North Texas. I’ve taken classes to become a teacher. This semester I didn’t enroll, but I hope to start back soon.”

“How far along are you?”

“I have a little more than half the credits I need. Back to my family—in addition to my siblings, I have five small nieces and three nephews. We have assorted other relatives, grandparents, aunts and uncles, who live in the same general area.”

“Big family.”

“My siblings and I visit my parents on weekends,” she said. “So do my aunts and uncles. There are anywhere from twenty to thirty or forty of us when we all get together.”

He paused as he started to drink his water, giving her a polite smile as if she said they spent every weekend at the park so they could play on the slides and swings.

“My family is definitely not that together,” he said. “We go our separate ways. Dad’s deceased and Mom disappeared from our lives when we were young.”

“We have different lifestyles,” she said, thinking this was a man she couldn’t possibly ever be close to even if circumstances had been different. His world and hers were poles apart. Their families were so different—hers a huge part of her life, his nearly nonexistent, what with his father being deceased and his mother walking out years earlier. Those events had to influence him and make him the man he was today. This job would be brief and then she probably would never see him again. “The quesadilla is delicious,” she said.

“I told you Rosie is a good cook. So, is there any special person in your life right now? I assume no one objected to you taking this job.”

“Not at all and there’s no special person at the moment. As long as I can go home for the weekends and holidays, I’m fine.”

“I’m not sure I’ve been involved—friends or otherwise—with someone as tied into home and family.”

“I’m your secretary—that’s different from your women friends.”

“We can be friends,” he said, looking amused, and a tingle ran across her nerves. In tiny subtle ways he was changing their relationship from professional to personal, something she did not want. With every discovery about him, she saw what opposites they were. This was not a man who would ever fit into her world or her life other than on a physical level. She definitely did not fit into his.

Surprised that he was even interested, she had to wonder. She had never heard a word of gossip about him even remotely trying to have an outside relationship with an employee. Far from it—occasional remarks were made to new single women to forget about impressing the boss—if they even got to know him—except through efficient work.

“We can be friends to a degree in a professional manner,” she said, wondering if she sounded prim.

“Emma, we’re going to be under the same roof, working together for weeks. Relax. This isn’t the office and it’s not that formal. If I have something critical, a letter I just have to get out, an appointment that has to be made by a certain time, I’ll tell you.”

“Fair enough,” she said, feeling as if their relationship just made another subtle shift. Or was it her imagination because she found him so physically attractive? “So you don’t gather often with the family, you travel a lot—what else do you do?”

“Most of the time for the past few years my life has been tied up in my work. I have a yacht, but I’m seldom on it. I ski. I have a villa in Italy. I have a condo in New York, one in Chicago and I spend the most time between Paris and Chicago where we have offices. I like cities.”

She placed her fork across her plate and stood. “That was a delicious lunch. If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to the letters.”

“Sit and relax, Emma. Those letters aren’t urgent and they’ll be there after lunch. I’m enjoying talking to you. There’s no rush. And I suspect some tidbit will appear for dessert.”

Surprised, she sat again. “I’m not in the habit of arguing with my supervisor. I don’t think I can possibly eat dessert. This was more lunch than I usually have.”

“Indulge yourself while you can,” he said. Pushing his plate forward, he placed his arms on the table and leaned closer. “Emma, this is lunch. We’re not at work. Forget the supervisor-secretary relationship, which doesn’t have to exist 24/7. This is just two people having lunch together,” he drawled in that husky voice that was soft as fur. Vivid blue eyes held her attention while his words poured over her and the moment shifted, holding a cozy intimacy. “Beautiful green eyes, great red hair—they sort of lend themselves to forgetting all about business,” he said softly.

“We’re about to cross a line we shouldn’t cross,” she whispered while her heart hammered.

“We crossed that line when you came in the door,” he replied.




Two


Her heart thudded because his words changed their relationship. She realized her reply would set the standard. For a fleeting second, how tempted she was to flirt back, to give him a seductive reply that was on the tip of her tongue. For the moment, she wished he were someone else and not her boss.

Following the path of wisdom, practicality and caution, she smiled and chuckled, shaking her head and trying to diffuse the electrifying tension that had sprung between them. “I don’t think so,” she replied lightly. “We can’t. I’m here for a secretarial job, which sets definite limits. I’m not crossing that line. If that’s part of my work—then tell me now.”

“Definitely not part of the job,” he said, leaning back and studying her with a faint smile and amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “As rare for me as for you in an employer-employee situation. But we’re not going to be able to shut it off that easily. As a matter of fact, I think the chemistry is in spite of both of us, not because of either of us wanting it to happen. That’s a big difference and rather fascinating.”

“We’ll not pursue it,” she persisted. Rosie appeared with a tray that held four choices of desserts. “What would you like, Miss Hillman?” she asked.

“Please just call me Emma,” she said, looking at luscious desserts. She was no longer hungry, yet Rosie stood with a broad smile and Emma knew how her own mother liked for everyone to take some of her desserts, so she selected a small slice of chocolate cheesecake.

Zach took a monstrous concoction of vanilla ice cream and brownies topped with fudge sauce with a sprinkling of fresh raspberries.

“You must work out big-time to turn that into muscle,” she observed and the moment the words were spoken, she wished she could take them back because she had just tossed the conversation back to the personal. “This is so much food. What does Rosie do with leftovers? Save them for dinner?” Emma interjected, trying to get the conversation on a different note as rapidly as possible.

He flashed a slight smile as he shook his head. “I work out and my injured foot has thrown me off schedule. As for the leftovers—there are a lot of people on this ranch. She’ll pass them on after lunch and they’ll be gone by midafternoon. You think all those hungry cowboys won’t light into her cooking? They’ll devour it.”

She smiled, glad the moment had been diffused and they were back on a harmless topic. “This is delicious,” she said as she ate a bite. She looked up to meet his steady gaze that fluttered her insides.

“She’ll be glad to know you liked it. Rosie’s been cooking for us since I was a little kid.”

She smiled and they enjoyed their desserts, then she said, “Do you mind if I put a few family pictures on my desk?”

“Emma, within reason, put whatever you want on your desk or around your desk or in your room upstairs. I don’t care what you do unless you want to paint something or make a permanent change.”

“Of course not. Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think this time I will get back to work,” she said, folding her napkin and standing. When she picked up her plate, he touched her wrist lightly.

“Leave the dishes or you’ll get a Rosie lecture. She’s in charge here and she wants to do things herself and her way,” he said, releasing her wrist as he stood and walked around the table.

Smiling, she set her plate down. “I know how my mother and one of my sisters are. Sometimes they just want all of us out of the kitchen.”

“You’re so tied into your family. Are you going to be able to stay away from Dallas for the length of this job?”

“I gave that some serious thought, but this isn’t permanent and as far as I can see, this assignment is a great opportunity because it’s a hike in pay, even temporarily, and I’m saving money to finish my education. And I did ask for the weekends off to go home.”

“We both hope it works out. So far, so good. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to last the morning, because several before you didn’t. I’ve been pleasantly surprised.”

“Glad to hear I’m up to snuff. So far so good in working for you,” she replied with a smile.

One dark eyebrow arched quizzically as he looked down at her. “You expected an ogre. Aah—let me guess—rumors from your predecessors.”

Still smiling, she nodded. They entered the office and she left to return to the correspondence and filing. Within the hour she noticed he had stopped heaping work for her and she could see where she would catch up with all he had given her.

No matter how lost she got in the assignments, she couldn’t shake her awareness of him. Carrying papers to his desk, she often met his gaze while he talked on the phone. Each time it was the same as a physical contact with a sizzle.

Common sense warned this job would not be as simple and straightforward as she had envisioned. When he talked on the phone, his voice was usually low enough that she couldn’t hear much of what he was saying and she made no effort to try to hear. She caught snatches of words, enough to know he was discussing problems involving his work.

As she placed a letter in the box for mail, Zach got off his phone. “Emma, take a break. The afternoon is more than half gone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Take a break—walk around the place, go outside, go to the kitchen and get a snack—whatever you want to do. Don’t argue or I’ll come get you and we’ll go for a stroll. As much as I can stroll right now.”

She laughed. “What a threat,” she said, placing mail in the box and hurrying out of the room as she received a grin from him. She hoped he didn’t guess moments like that played havoc with her insides. How tempting to head back to work just to get him to spend the next few minutes with her.

She stood in the wide, empty hall and wondered what to do, finally going toward the kitchen to get a cup of tea. She suspected there was a very well-stocked pantry.

“Afternoon, Emma,” Rosie greeted her.

“It smells wonderful in here.”

“Roast for dinner. Can I get you something?”

“Yes, thank you. If possible, I’d like a cup of hot tea.”

“Of course,” Rosie replied. “Looks as if you might be the one who stays.”

“I hope so.”

Rosie chuckled. “Those others looked frazzled and unhappy from the first morning. I would have sent one packing faster than Zach did. Have a seat and I’ll brew your tea—or if you want a breath of fresh air, go outside and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, Rosie.”

“You can take it back to your desk if you want. Zach isn’t particular about food in the office if you don’t leave crumbs or make a big mess.”

“I won’t,” Emma replied, smiling. “I’ll wait outside,” she added, stepping out onto the patio and strolling to the pool to look at the crystal water that was almost the same blue as Zach’s eyes.

When she finished her tea, she went to her room to retrieve a small box of family pictures. She had already distributed some pictures in the bedroom. When instructed to arrive with her things packed she had brought what she really wanted with her. She stopped to look around again, still amazed at the size and beauty of where she would stay.

When she returned to her desk, Zach was on the phone and she had more work waiting. After placing her pictures on her desk and table, she focused on correspondence, so lost in concentration she was startled when Zach spoke to her.

“It’s half past five. Just because the work is here in the house, you don’t need to stay all hours. We’ll close the office now. I eat a late dinner, but you can eat whenever you want—Rosie will be in the kitchen until eight. After that she’ll have cold or easily heated choices on a chalkboard menu.”

“Thanks,” she said, wondering if she had eaten her last meal with the boss. If she had, it would be the wisest thing to happen. At the same time, she couldn’t prevent her slight disappointment.

“You’ve done good work today, Emma. I hope you like the job.”

She wanted to laugh and say that he sounded surprised. Instead, she merely nodded. “Thank you. I think this will be good.”

He gave her a long look that killed the impersonal moments that had just passed. Once again her nerves tingled, invisible sparks danced in the air and she could feel heat rising. In spite of logic, she didn’t want him to go.

Turning away, he walked out of the room without saying anything further. She stared at the empty doorway. The chemistry had not changed. He seemed to fight it as much as she, which was a relief and made the situation easier.

Zach continued to pile on a lot of work. While there wasn’t as much as that first morning, letters to write, papers to proof, appointments to set, phone calls and various tasks streamed to her desk. Time passed swiftly as she worked diligently and kept up with what he sent to her. There were no more lunches together. Sometimes he worked straight through and then stopped about four. Sometimes he ate at his desk. He continued to make an effort to keep their relationship impersonal, which suited her completely. No matter how cool he was, there still was no way to stop that acute consciousness she had of him as an appealing male.

Thursday the work he gave her in the morning was done by noon. When she returned after lunch he sat by a large cardboard box filled with papers.

“Want to tackle some of the old letters and memorabilia?”

“Sure,” she replied, watching him pull another chair near his. “That’s a lot of letters.”

“Many were written by my great-great-grandfather to his sister, his brother, later his wife. They were all saved and somehow ended up back with our family. Probably some relative didn’t want them and another one took them.”

“Zach, that’s wonderful. I’d think you’d want to read each of these yourself.”

“Hardly. They are letters from an old codger who settled out here and struggled to carve out a life on the plains. He was probably a tough old bird and about as lovable as a prickly porcupine. I think you are romanticizing him. Sit here beside me so whenever you have a question you can ask me. Want anything to drink before we start?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” As she crossed the room, his gaze raked briefly over her, making every inch tingle. She became aware of the navy sweater and matching slacks she had pulled on this morning, her hair in a ponytail.

Catching a whiff of his enticing aftershave, she sat beside him.

“The big basket is for letters and papers that go to the shredder,” he instructed. Sitting only inches from him, she was lost in his blue eyes and could barely focus on what he told her. She was even closer than she had been that first morning and it was distracting beyond measure.

“As far as I’m concerned, I think it would do the family a favor to shred all papers that don’t contain pertinent information that would affect our lives today,” he said. His voice deepened a notch and he slowed his speech. Was their proximity having an effect on him, too?

Lost in depths of blue, she was mesmerized. Her breath caught and held. He leaned a fraction closer. Her heart raced. With an effort she looked away, trying to get back to their normal relationship. Leaning away from him, she touched the yellowed envelopes in the large box as she tried to get back to his instructions.

“If there is anything about money, boundary rights, water rights, that sort of thing, then place the paper in the box marked Consider and I will read it. If you find maps, drawings, etc., then place them in Miscellaneous.”

As what he had told her to do sank in, she frowned. She picked up a tattered, yellow envelope with flowing writing across the front. “This was in the 1800s. Look at the address on it. It’s just a name and the county. You want to shred it?”

“If it doesn’t have anything pertinent to the matters I listed—rights, boundaries, money. Something significant.”

“The letter is significant if it has nothing like that in it. Isn’t it written by one of your ancestors?”

“Probably my great-great-grandfather. Maybe further back than that by one generation.”

“You can’t shred it. It’s wonderful to have all these letters from your ancestors and know what they were like,” she said, staring at him and wondering how he could care so little about his own family history. “How can you feel that way about them?”

With a smile he shook his head. “It’s past and over.”

“You have an architectural firm, so you must like old buildings.”

“Old buildings are more reliable than people. People change constantly and you can’t always count on them. An old building—if it’s built right—might last through centuries and you can definitely rely on it.”

She stared at him, wondering who had let him down so badly that he would view people as unreliable. Had it started when his mother had walked out on the family? Three young boys. Emma shivered, unable to imagine a mother leaving her young sons. Maybe that was why Zach kept his feelings bottled up. “This is your tie to your past. And your ancestors were reliable or you wouldn’t even be here now.”

“Okay, so read through the letters. If they’re not significant in the manner I’ve told you, toss them in this basket. Give me two or three of the most interesting and I’ll read them and see if I can discover why I should keep them. I think when you get into it, you’ll change your mind. I don’t want to save letters that tell how the sod roof leaks or the butter churn broke or a wagon needs a new axle.”

“I think all those things would be interesting.” She tilted her head to study him. “Family really isn’t important to you, is it?”

Shaking his head again, he continued to smile. “Sure it is. I’m close with my brothers. That doesn’t mean I want a bunch of old letters none of us will look at twice. They’re musty, rotting and of no value.” He leaned closer, so close she blinked and forgot the letters. He was only inches away and his mouth was inviting, conjuring up her curiosity about how he kissed.

“You’re looking at me as if I just sprouted fangs.”

She couldn’t get her breath to answer him. His eyes narrowed a tiny fraction and his smile vanished. The look in his eyes changed, intensifying. Her pulse drummed, a steady rhythm that was loud in her ears. “I can’t understand your attitude.”

“Well, we’re alike to a degree there—I can’t understand yours,” he said lightly. Again a thick silence fell and she couldn’t think about letters or the subject of their conversation or even what he had just said. All she thought about was his mouth only a few inches from hers. Realizing the lust-charged moments were happening too often, she shifted and looked away, trying to catch her breath and get back on track.

She stood and stepped away, turning to glance back. “I’ll get a pen and paper in case I need to take notes.”

“I’ll help sort some of these,” he said, studying her with a smoldering look.

She wanted to thank him and tell him his help wasn’t necessary. It definitely wasn’t wanted. She needed to keep space between them. Big spaces. This wasn’t a way to start a new assignment. She had no such attraction to men she worked with in Dallas, or anywhere else for that matter. Why was Zach Delaney so compelling?

It was certainly not because he was great fun or because they had so much in common. The only similarities they had were living in Texas at the same time in history and being connected in business to the same company. She had to get a grip on her reactions to him.

In every way he was not the man to be attracted to. Her boss, a world traveler, cared almost nothing for all the things that were important to her, family most of all.

Picking up a tablet, a pen and an empty wooden tray, she returned to her chair, pulling it slightly farther from his, but she couldn’t move away because the basket and box to put the old documents in stood between them. She placed the wooden tray on the floor beside her chair.

When she opened the first envelope, a faint, musty odor emanated as she withdrew thin, yellowed pages covered in script. She read the letter from a man who wrote about frontier life, the “beeves” he had rounded up, and his plans to take them north to sell.

“Zach, if this is your great-great-grandfather, you should read this letter and see what kind of life he had,” she said impulsively. “It’s fascinating. He writes about a wagon train that came through and camped on his land. Is that this same ranch?”

“Same identical one,” he remarked dryly, amusement in his expression.

“Listen—’their leader was Samuel Worthington,’” she read. “‘Samuel asked if they could stay. He said they had traveled from Virginia and were going west. They had lost four people in their group. The four unfortunates drowned when they crossed a treacherous river after a rain. I gave them flour and beef so they had fresh supplies. Worry ran high about finding water in days to come so I drew Samuel a map of the land I know and showed him where to find water when they left my home. They have great expectations regarding their journey.’”

She lowered the letter to look at Zach. “I think that’s wonderful. Don’t you feel you know a little now about your great-great-grandfather? He was kind and generous with those travelers. I would be so excited if these were letters written by my great-great-grandfather.”

Zach smiled at her as if facing a bubbling child. “Okay. My great-great-grandfather was a nice guy who was good to people passing through. That knowledge really doesn’t bring me closer because he lived years ago. It doesn’t change the course of life. He was a rancher in the old days of the longhorns and he had a tough life. He worked hard and was successful and built on the land to pass that on to the next Delaney son. I don’t need to wade through all his old letters about life on the plains in the early days.”

She tilted her head to study Zach. She was both annoyed by his attitude and at the same time, mesmerized again by his enticing smile. “Do your brothers feel the way you do?”

“We haven’t talked about it. I’ll ask before I shred these. I would guess that Will might want them and Ryan will feel the same as I do.”

She shook her head. “I can’t understand your family. You must not have been close growing up.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “When our mom walked out and divorced Dad, he sent us away to different boarding schools. I suppose he had some reason that seemed logical to him. We’re close in some ways, but we were separated most of the time for a lot of years. It made a difference.”

“That’s truly dreadful.”

He smiled again and her pulse fluttered. “Don’t feel too sorry for us. Our father spent a lot of money on us.”

“Money doesn’t make up for some things.”

“We could argue that one all night,” he said, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. The T-shirt stretched tautly across his broad shoulders and his muscles flexed. As he stretched out, she could not keep from taking one swift glance down the length of him. Feathers were holding a dance inside her. Everything quivered and lustful thoughts flashed in her mind. She realized silence was growing again and he watched her with a look of interest. Her mind raced for something, trying to think where the conversation had ended.

“Your great-great-grandfather—I wonder if any of you resemble him.”

“You can see for yourself. In the last years of his life, someone painted his portrait. It hangs in the library.” He put down his arms and leaned forward. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

“You don’t need to walk there now. I assume you’re supposed to be staying off your foot.”

“I can walk around,” he said, getting the crutch. “I go to the doc next week and hope to get off this crutch. I’ll still be in some kind of crazy medical shoe, but at least I may lose the crutch. C’mon. We’ll go look at my old ancestor. I suspect he was a tough old bird. My dad was in his own way. I’m amazed he kept the letters. He didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body until the last couple of years of his life. Or maybe since Caroline’s birth. That little granddaughter changed him.”

“That’s family—little children wrap around your heart.”

He gave her another big smile. “You’re sentimental, Emma.”

“I certainly am,” she replied cheerfully.

He led the way into the library that held shelves of books from floor to ceiling. A huge portrait in a gilt frame hung above the fireplace and she looked at a stern-faced man with prominent cheekbones, straight gray hair, mustache and beard.

“I can’t see that you look like him in any manner at all.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” He gestured across the room. “Over there are portraits of my paternal grandfather and my dad.”

She crossed the room. “You don’t look like them either.”

“If I have a resemblance to any forebears, it’s my maternal grandfather. People say I look like him. I don’t see it much myself except for the hair. No pictures of him here.”

She returned to the fireplace to study the picture, thinking about the letter she had just read. “I’d think you’d want to read every letter in that box.”

“I’m leaving that to you.”

She turned to find him looking at her intently, a look that was hot and filled with desire, giving her heart palpitations. In spite of his injured foot, he looked strong and fit. Muscled arms, broad shoulders, flat belly. She stepped toward the door.

“We better go back and let me start reading them,” she said, heading out of the room, aware that he fell into step beside her. “You said you have brothers. Do they have ranches around here or do all of you gather here?”

“Both. I’m not a rancher, so I’ve probably spent the least time here, but we were here plenty growing up. Plenty to suit me. I’m not a cowboy and not a rancher and my brothers can ride the horses. No, thanks. Will’s ranch adjoins this one. Caroline loves it there, so they go quite often. Ryan’s ranch is farther away. He’s a cowboy through and through. Maybe it’s because he spent too much time out here with Granddad.”

“So will your brothers come here this week for Thanksgiving?” she asked, lost in thoughts about her own family’s plans. She was taking a corn casserole and a dessert for everyone.

“No. Ryan’s with a friend and Will and family are going to his home in Colorado.”

“I can’t imagine not being with family, but if you’re with close friends or a close friend and family, that works,” she said, glancing at him to see a grin. “You’re staying out here alone, aren’t you?” she blurted, aghast to think his brothers were going their own way and Zach had no plans. She started to invite him to her house, but she remembered that her predecessors had not lasted more than a few days at best on this job. If she invited him and then he dismissed her, it would be awkward.

“You’re staring, Emma, and you have pity written all over your face,” he said. “A new experience in my adult life. I can’t remember anyone feeling sorry for me for any reason before.”

Heat flushed her cheeks, and she forced a faint smile, hoping the pitying expression would vanish. They had stopped walking and were gazing at each other. He placed a hand on her shoulder lightly. The feathery touch with anyone else would have been impersonal, but with Zach, it was startling.

“It’s my choice,” he said. “Stop worrying.”

“Zach, you can come to our house,” she said, changing her mind about inviting him because it was sad to think of him being alone. “My family would be happy to have you. We’ve always invited friends who would have been alone on Thanksgiving, so I know my family will welcome you.”

His grin widened. “Thank you for the very nice invitation, but I rarely notice holidays and don’t celebrate them.”

“Is this a religious thing?” she asked.

“No. It’s a ‘my thing.’ As I mentioned, my brothers and I grew up in boarding schools, and sometimes we were left there on holidays because our folks were in Europe or heaven knows where,” he explained. While he talked, she was acutely conscious of his hand still lightly on her shoulder. His gaze lowered to her lips and she could barely get her breath. It took an effort to pay attention to what he was saying. “None of us care much about holidays. Will is changing because of Caroline and his wife, Ava. I’m usually not in the country on Thanksgiving, but this year spending it alone here on the ranch is what I choose to do. Thank you anyway for your invitation,” he said, turning to walk again.

Still physically too aware of him at her side, she strolled beside him. The hot attraction that obviously affected both of them tainted this job. If she got to stay, could she keep their relationship impersonal? She didn’t think it would be much of a problem.

This loner, besides being her boss, was not the man to be attracted to. How could he possibly want to spend Thanksgiving alone? Even though he came from enormous wealth, he must have had a cold, lonely childhood. He seemed a solitary person who stayed out of the limelight and worked in distant places where he was unknown. She had seen pictures of his brother in the newspapers and in Texas magazines, but never Zach. He clearly kept a low profile.

As they entered the office, she parted with him and went to her desk to try to concentrate on work.

Over an hour later Zach received a phone call. She continued with her work, but by the time half an hour had passed and he had had three calls, she realized there must be a problem somewhere. He sat with his back to her, his feet propped up on a nearby computer table. The room was large enough that she couldn’t hear exactly what he said. When she caught snatches of a few words, she guessed the language was German.

She worked until five to get everything done he had given her. He was still engrossed in phone calls when she shut off her computers and left the room. In her room, she spent over an hour reading and replying to emails from family and close friends before going to the kitchen for dinner.

Thinking of the loner in the office the entire time.

Lowering his feet Zach had swiveled in his chair and watched Emma leave the room, but his many phone calls had demanded his focus. Now, he glanced down at a letter on his desk she had typed. “I’ll make the call at 8:00 in the morning your time and see if we can’t get this worked out quickly,” he said into the phone. “Right, Todd. I’ll let you know. It’s too late there to call anyone now.” He replaced the receiver, glanced at his watch and sighed.

His cell phone indicated a call and he answered because it was Will.

“Can you talk now?” Will asked.

“Yes. We’ve had problems on a job and I’ve been on and off the phone for the past two hours.”

“I’ve gotten a busy signal once. How’s it going with the new secretary or is it too early to tell?”

Zach glanced again at the letter on the desk. “She’s a good secretary. I don’t think she’ll last though. She’s totally wound into her family in Dallas, which is several hours away from here, probably too far. They live, breathe, eat and stay together most of the time.”

“Just say the word and I’ll get someone else sent out.”

“Not yet,” Zach said, thinking about Emma’s green eyes. “She’s efficient. She’s sentimental—you’d think these old letters were worth a million the way she views them. She can’t keep from telling me I shouldn’t shred them.”

Will laughed. “Another one telling you what to do?”

“No, not like the first one. Emma’s just so into families, she can’t understand that I’m not treasuring every word from our ancestor. He was probably a tough old guy, even tougher than Dad. Why would I treasure every word he uttered?”

“You’re a little more irreverent than most descendants would be. I’m a little curious about them, so I want to read a few and see what’s in those boxes.”

“You can have them, Will.”

“No. You volunteered. You just need the right secretary to help you. Sounds to me as if you don’t have a good fit yet and I should send someone.”

“No. She’s an excellent secretary. I’ve piled on the work and she’s done it accurately and quickly. I don’t want to dump her because she likes the box of old letters.”

“True. At least she may really read them.”

“Oh, she’ll read them all right,” Zach said, smiling as he remembered Emma poring over the one, her head bent. Her red hair held gold strands and a healthy shine. She had it pinned up, but strands spilled free and indicated long hair. Long hair and long legs.

“We’ll leave in a few weeks for Colorado. If you change your mind and want to come along, or to spend Thanksgiving with us, let me know.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. My new secretary was a little shocked when she learned I’m spending the holiday alone. She invited me to join her family.”

There was a moment’s pause. “You two are getting to know each other.”

“How can we avoid it? Remember, we work all day together and there are just the two of us here except when we see Rosie or Nigel.”

“If you were Ryan, I’d ask if she’s good-looking, but I’ve heard you talk too often about avoiding dating employees.”

“You and I have agreed that’s a complication no one needs in his life. I don’t want any part of that kind of trouble,” he said, thinking about her full lips and hearing a hollow sound to his words. “There’s no need to bring emotions into the workplace—at least the kind of emotions that a relationship would create. Common sense says no way,” he added, more to himself than Will.

“It worked with Ava.”

“Yeah, but you hired her to work with Caroline—that was different from an office situation and you know it. It’s not going to happen here. I get looks from her like I’m from another planet with my feelings about holidays, families and memorabilia.”

Will laughed. “I can imagine that one. There are times you get those looks from me. Ryan is the baby brother and he accepts whatever we do.”

“Yeah. I do get those looks from you, but I don’t know why because you’re like me about sentiment. Or at least you were until Ava and Caroline. Especially Caroline. They’ve mellowed you until I hardly know you.”

“You ought to try it sometime,” Will answered lightly. “I’ll talk to you before we leave for Colorado.”

“Sure, Will. Thanks for the invitation. Tell Ava I said thanks.” Zach ended the call and swung his chair around to look out the window without really seeing anything outside. Envisioning Emma, he wanted to be with her again. He had just blown the sensible course. He should have let Will send out another secretary, yet how could he get rid of Emma when her secretarial skills were excellent and she wanted the job? He couldn’t send her back because of the steamy chemistry between them.

“Keep it strictly business,” he whispered, lecturing himself. Stay away from her except when working. Don’t share lunches or dinners or anything else outside of the office and work. Willpower. Resoluteness.

Thinking of the problems on the project in Maine, the buildings the company had bought and intended to replace with one large building, a parking garage and a landscaped area, he tossed down a pen and returned to thinking about Emma. He wanted to have dinner with her, but hadn’t he just resolved to avoid her? He didn’t want to get involved with an employee, especially a sentimental homebody who could barely leave her family and especially an employee living under the same roof with him. It could complicate his life beyond measure to have her expect some kind of commitment from him and to have rumors flying at the office. He didn’t want tears and a scene when he told her goodbye. Thoughts of any of those things gave him chills.

She didn’t look like a sentimental homebody, at least his idea of one. Her full red lips, the mass of red hair that was caught up on her head hinted at a wild, party-loving woman. The reactions she had to just a look from him implied a sensuous, responsive lover.

“Damn,” he said aloud. Taking a deep breath, he yanked papers in front of him.

Wiping his brow, he leaned over his desk and tried to concentrate on tasks at hand. After two minutes he shoved aside papers and stood. He should send her away, get her out of his life, but the chemistry he wanted to avoid made it impossible to think about giving her up. No matter what he’d just told himself, he wanted to be with Emma—what could a dinner hurt?

With a glance at his watch, he saw he had probably already missed her and a hot dinner from Rosie. Annoyed he would have to eat alone, he headed to the kitchen, hoping Emma was still there.

His disappointment when she wasn’t bothered him even more than her absence. Since when had he started to look forward to being with her so much?




Three


The evening was quiet and after dinner Emma stayed in her room. She had eaten alone, experiencing a mix of relief and disappointment that Zach hadn’t appeared. It was wiser that he had not eaten with her. The less they socialized, the better, even though there was a part of her that wanted to see him.

On Friday, he appeared wrapped in business and he kept his distance. That afternoon, he told her to leave at one so she could get to Dallas ahead of the traffic.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling broadly. “I’ll accept that offer.” Shutting down her computer, she was on the road away from the ranch twenty minutes later. They had gotten through the first week, so she must have the job. They also had kept a distance between them. He had been professional, quiet, but there was no way she could feel she had imagined the chemistry simmering just below the surface. Any time they locked gazes, it flared to life, scalding, filled with temptation, an unmistakable attraction.

Now she could believe rumors she had always heard that he never dated employees, never getting emotionally entangled with anyone on his staff, never even in the most casual way. She intended to keep that professional, remote relationship with him and this job would be a plus on her resume.

If she could just keep from dreaming about him at night—with a sigh, she concentrated on her driving and tried to stop thinking about Zach Delaney. Instead, she reflected on the fun she always had at home with the family and with her nieces and nephews.

Monday when she returned to work, she dressed in jeans, a T-shirt sprinkled with bling, and sneakers. Zach had said jeans were fine and that’s what he had worn every workday. Even so, she felt slightly self-conscious when she entered the office.

He was already there and looked up, giving her a thorough glance.

“You said jeans are acceptable,” she stated.

“Jeans are great,” he said in a tone that conveyed a more personal response. “Yours look terrific,” he added, confirming what she thought.

“Thank you,” she answered, sitting behind her desk and starting to work.

“This afternoon I’m going to Dallas to see my doctor. Hopefully, I can toss this crutch when I come home.”

“You can return to your traveling?”

“How I wish. No. He’s already told me that I’ll have to wear this and continue to stay off my foot except to get around the house. Still, it’ll be an improvement.”

“Sure,” she replied.

He returned to whatever he had been doing and they worked quietly the rest of the morning. When she left for lunch, he stayed in the office. In the afternoon, she read more Delaney letters, occasionally glancing at the great-great-grandson, continuing to wonder how he could care so little about his history.





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