Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #61

Little wonder veteran Duets author Kristin Gabriel has received two RITA Awards from the Romance Writers of America for her fabulous, funny stories. This month she delivers a delightful duo—the Kane brothers and their adventures on the path to true love. Enjoy!

Duets Vol. #62

Voted Storyteller of the Year twice by Romantic Times, Silhouette writer Carol Finch always “presents her fans with rollicking, wild adventures…and fun from beginning to end.” Making her Duets debut this month is talented newcomer Molly O’Keefe with a fun story about the matchmaking Cook family—and what can happen when there are too many Cooks…!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

Mr. Predictable

Carol Finch

Too Many Cooks

Molly O’Keefe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Mr. Predictable

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Too Many Cooks

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

“You just need to hang loose,” Moriah declared.

“Our next hurdle is to get you to do something impulsive, something totally unplanned, unexpected and off schedule.”

“Hey, I can be impulsive if I feel like it,” Jake said, affronted.

“Couldn’t prove it by me, Mr. Predictable,” she teased him. “When was the last time you hauled off and did something totally out of character?”

He frowned pensively.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”

“That’s your problem.”

He suddenly grinned. “You want impulsive do you?”

He leaned over, snatched Moriah off her horse and planted a kiss on her. It wasn’t just a playful little peck on the cheek, either. It was a hot, steamy, burn-off-your-lips kind of kiss that demanded a response.

It was the most spontaneous thing Jake had ever done, and he liked it. A lot…

Mr. Predictable

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to be writing my third book for Duets, because I love romantic comedy! In this story you will meet a serious-minded workaholic who clashes with the fun-loving owner of a resort for stressed-out businessmen.

J. T. Prescott doesn’t believe for one minute that he needs these two weeks of recreational therapy that his sisters arranged for him, and he stubbornly resists Moriah Randell’s attempt to change his attitude, his unwavering routine and his lifestyle. This battle of wills becomes far more personal and complicated when their attraction to each other refuses to be ignored or denied. When unexpected emotions sneak up on J.T. and Moriah, they can’t imagine what has hit them so hard and so fast…and just won’t go away!

Enjoy,

Carol Finch

Books by Carol Finch

HARLEQUIN DUETS

36—FIT TO BE TIED

42—A REGULAR JOE

SILHOUETTE SPECIAL EDITION

1242—NOT JUST ANOTHER COWBOY

1320—SOUL MATES

This book is dedicated to my husband, Ed, and our children—Jon, Jeff, Kurt, Christie and Jill. And to our grandchildren, Blake, Kennedy and Brooklynn. Hugs and kisses!

And a very special thank-you to my editor, Priscilla Berthiaume, and my agent, Laurie Feigenbaum, for all your help and support. You are greatly appreciated!

1

JACOB THOMAS PRESCOTT squeezed his eyes shut to relieve the strain of staring at the computer screen for ten hours straight. Of course, that was nothing new, he reminded himself as he massaged his temples to ease the headache pounding in rhythm with his pulse. This, after all, was life as he knew it. Work. And more work. It’s what he did six days a week—and sometimes on Sunday.

J.T.—as his three employees at his graphic shop and his sisters knew him—checked his watch. Six o’clock, right on the button. With robotlike precision, J.T. saved the file and transferred it to floppy disk so he could work on his laptop computer over the weekend.

When he shut down the computer, J.T. pushed away from his desk and worked the kinks from his neck and shoulders. He glanced sideways to note that his three younger male employees had already called it quits for the day and that they were smiling at him for no apparent reason.

“Is there a problem?” he asked as he surged to his feet.

“No,” the young men chorused, still smiling enigmatically. “Have a nice weekend, boss.”

J.T. nodded, then waited for the men to precede him out the door. He grabbed the plastic bag of clothes he planned to drop off at the dry cleaners, checked his watch again and then locked the door behind him.

Right on time, as usual, he noted as he stuffed the shop keys in the pocket of his black suit. He would swing by the cleaners at 6:11 p.m., just as he did every Friday, then drive to his apartment to pop in a microwaveable turkey-and-dressing TV dinner.

J.T. skidded to a halt on the sidewalk and his eyes popped when he noticed the two flat tires on the driver’s side of his older-model gray sedan. “Well, damn,” he muttered. This was going to throw off his regular routine by a half hour—maybe more.

Scowling at the inconvenience, J.T. looked up and down the deserted street, then frowned as the fire-engine red Jeep Cherokee—that seemed to come from out of nowhere at lightning speed—ground to a stop beside him. To his surprise, a smiling blue-eyed blonde, wearing a bright blue T-shirt that was plastered with stars and stripes, a pair of screaming red shorts and hiking boots, bounded from the vehicle like a jack-in-the-box.

“Is this your car?” she asked all too cheerfully for J.T.’s sedate tastes.

He appraised the female who looked to be in her mid-twenties. He wasn’t sure if he should salute this personification of the American flag or answer her. He decided on the latter. “Er…yes, it’s my car,” he mumbled, focusing on the flat tires rather than the woman’s flashy appearance and blinding smile. Flamboyantly dressed blondes with one-hundred-watt smiles and more energy than they knew what to do with didn’t appeal to him—and for good reason.

“I’ll give you a lift to the service station,” she offered, then stuck out her hand to introduce herself. “I’m Moriah Randell.”

Again, J.T. felt the ridiculous urge to salute. Instead, he shook her hand, marveling at her decisive grip. But then, he mused, her firm handshake really shouldn’t surprise him. Bubbling spirit, vitality and independence—hence her American flag ensemble—fairly crackled around her. She was about as easy to ignore as a hurricane or earthquake, and she came on so strong that J.T. reflexively withdrew into his own space.

“I’m J. T. Prescott,” he murmured as he resituated the pile of laundry, briefcase and laptop in both arms.

“Here, let me help you with that stuff,” she volunteered.

Before J.T. could accept or reject her offer, Moriah scooped up his precious possessions.

A most peculiar sensation assailed him when Moriah confiscated his laptop and briefcase. It was as if she had suddenly amputated extensions of his hands. She juggled the objects as if they were insignificant pieces of junk and that didn’t set well with J.T. “Hey, be careful with that stuff,” he cautioned as she strode quickly around the side of her SUV. “Those happen to be my stock-in-trade—” His voice fizzled into a groan when she unceremoniously dumped both prized possessions on the back seat.

Moriah flashed him another dazzling smile that made her blue eyes sparkle like polished jewels. The thick ropelike braid of blond hair slithered over her shoulder as she plunked behind the steering wheel.

When she motioned for him to join her, he resigned himself to accepting the young woman’s assistance. With a sigh, J.T. climbed into the brightly colored vehicle. He barely had time to shut the door before Moriah stamped on the accelerator and whizzed off. Jeez, he’d just climbed onboard with the female version of Evel Knievel, he mused as he hurriedly fastened his seat belt.

J.T. glanced over to appraise Moriah’s fire-engine-red fingernails, red hoop earrings and jangling red-white-and-blue bracelets. He also noticed there wasn’t a wedding ring on her finger, not that he cared one way or another, of course.

Who the hell dressed this woman? Conservative and conventional were obviously foreign concepts to her. He decided loud clothes were an essential warning that signaled the arrival of this female cyclone. She appeared to be the kind of individual who walked right in and took over. For sure and certain, she bustled J.T. off in whirlwind fashion!

“Would you mind slowing down?” J.T. requested as they zipped down the street. “I’d like to live to see my thirty-sixth birthday, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t find speed exhilarating? You don’t like the feel of the wind in your hair?” she asked, still smiling radiantly.

Her perpetual smile was really beginning to bug him. She was beginning to bug him. She was too cheerful, too bouncy, too vibrant, too feminine, too reckless, too…everything! Plus, the alluring scent of her perfume was clogging his senses and the narrow confines of the Jeep didn’t allow enough room for him to avoid breathing her in.

“Hey!” J.T. erupted as he glanced out the side window. “You buzzed right by the service station!”

She turned that high-voltage smile on him again. “I did it on purpose.”

J.T. frowned warily as Moriah increased speed and sailed onto the ramp that merged with the interstate highway. “What the hell is going on here, lady?” he demanded to know that very second.

She grinned impishly. “The name is Moriah, remember?”

“Yeah, whatever.” J.T. gnashed his teeth and braced himself when she switched over to the fast lane of rush hour traffic. “Am I being kidnapped? I should warn you that I’m not carrying much cash. I never carry much cash. Demanding a ransom for my return is a complete waste of time.”

“You aren’t being kidnapped. You’re being escorted to Triple R,” she said, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t. Not to J.T.’s satisfaction. “What the hell is Triple R?” he demanded gruffly.

“Randell’s Resort Ranch.”

“Ranch? You work at a ranch and you dress like that?” he asked, then smirked.

One delicate blond brow arched as she spared him a quick glance. “You don’t like my clothes?”

“Lady, I’m not sure I even like you, especially after you kidnapped me, so don’t get me started on your clothes!”

She chuckled at the insult, then crossed two lanes of heavy traffic to roar down the off ramp. “I was told to expect this kind of reaction from you, Jake.”

“The name is J.T.,” he said through gritted teeth.

“J.T. sounds too stuffy. I prefer to call you Jake, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. And who the hell told you to kidnap me? My employees? Is that why they were grinning at me as if they were sharing some sort of conspiracy? They’ve been whining that I’ve been working them too hard lately. I should’ve known something was going on—”

“It was your sisters,” she interrupted as she swerved onto a two-lane road and headed north to only God, and this personification of the American flag, knew where!

“Kim and Lisa are responsible for this abduction?” he croaked in disbelief.

Moriah nodded as she set the SUV on cruise. The thick rope of braided blond hair rippled over her shoulder and curled against the swell of her full breasts. J.T. did his gentlemanly best not to dwell on her curvaceous figure and the long expanse of tanned legs.

It dawned on him that the impact of meeting Moriah—what with her flashy attire and cheery smile—served to momentarily distract a man from her very shapely, very feminine figure. But once you were enclosed in a vehicle with her, and spared her more than a casual glance, you couldn’t help but notice her striking good looks and appealing physique, despite those god-awful, bold-colored clothes. Yet, after seeing Moriah’s representation of Old Glory, you couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be wearing tomorrow.

“Kim and Lisa contacted me because I run a resort ranch that caters to businessmen who’ve forgotten how to slow their hectic pace and relax. According to your concerned sisters your life revolves around your graphic art shop. They’re giving you a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation at my ranch.”

“What!” J.T. exploded angrily. “I don’t want or need a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation!”

Moriah grinned at him, undaunted by his booming voice and erupting temper. “Oh, and by the way, Kim and Lisa said to tell you happy birthday.”

“Birthday?” J.T. parroted. Well, damn. Sunday was his birthday, come to think of it. He’d been so intensely focused on creating a spectacular Web site for his new client that he’d forgotten. But birthday or not, he wasn’t spending the next two weeks at some ranch in the boon-docks that was run by this all too cheery, wild-driving female.

“Stop the damn car and turn it around,” J.T. ordered brusquely. “I don’t have time for a forced vacation. I have work to do and a business to run.”

“Everything is going to be fine, Jake—”

“J.T.” he growled in correction.

“Just calm down,” she soothed him. “I’m the recreation director at the ranch and I’ve been trained in stress management. I can tell that you’re entirely too tense.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so tense if you’d slow this car down!”

Smiling in amusement—at his expense, he had no doubt—Moriah decreased her speed. “There now, Jake. Happy?”

“Not particularly,” he said, and scowled.

“I understand that you’re feeling a little testy. Stress does that to a person. After you kick back and relax for a few days you’re going to be amazed how refreshed and rejuvenated you feel.”

He glared thunderclouds on her sunny smile. “I am as relaxed as I ever intend to get!”

Her carefree laughter was getting on the one good nerve he had left. “Your voice is rising, Jake,” she pointed out calmly.

“Well, so is my temper!” he all but shouted. “I have a business to run. My employees won’t take work seriously if I’m not there to keep their noses to the grindstone. I have no intention of allowing my shop to go down the toilet.”

“But if you don’t take time to get back in touch with your inner self and break your rigid routine, you’ll be too stressed out to run your business effectively,” Moriah said reasonably. “You might find yourself snapping impatiently at your clients or employees. That certainly wouldn’t be good for business, now would it?”

“My inner self?” J.T. snorted derisively at that. “My rigid routine?”

“Yes, let’s start with that,” Moriah suggested as she hung a sharp right turn and zoomed down a gravel road, taking J.T. farther into the outback of Oklahoma’s wooded hill country. “You’ve become a creature of habit and you’ve forgotten how to sit back and enjoy life.”

“I most certainly have not,” he snapped in fierce denial. “I know how to relax as well as the next person.”

“Really?” she challenged, flashing him another of those annoyingly captivating smiles. “Then let me ask you a few questions.”

“Hell, I didn’t know there would be a test. Do I get time to study?”

Moriah chuckled in amusement, though he was striving for snide and sarcastic. But apparently nothing irritated Miss Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. It made him want to try harder to tick her off.

“What time do you get up every morning?” she asked.

“Six o’clock. Is that a problem?” he said defiantly.

“Only if you do it every single morning. Do you work on your business projects before you leave for your office?”

“Yes,” he muttered grudgingly.

“Do you wake up at night, and also notice at various times of the day—like now—that you’re gritting your teeth and have to force yourself to unclamp your jaw? Do you find yourself tensely knotting your fists—like you are now—and have to tell yourself to unclench?”

J.T. glowered at her as he uncurled his knotted fists and slackened his jaw, but he refused to reply. Okay, so he was a little tense. Who wasn’t?

“Do you eat breakfast?”

“Yes, at 7:42 a.m. I use the drive-through window at the doughnut shop to pick up coffee and a cinnamon twist. So you see, I do take time for breakfast,” he assured her flippantly.

“Cinnamon twist and coffee every morning of the week? No deviation from routine? No variation of food whatsoever? You sound pretty predictable, Jake,” she said as she tossed him a knowing smile.

Uh-oh, J.T. could see where this line of questioning was headed. Moriah was trying to point out that he was a stickler for a strict schedule. Well, so what if he was? When a man ran a business that was as successful as J.T.’s had been the past ten years, he had to organize his time wisely and follow a structured routine. Otherwise, he’d never get anything done—and he had a helluva lot to do, too.

“So…you arrive at your office and go right to work, I presume. What time is your lunch break, Jake?”

He shifted uneasily in the bucket seat. He didn’t bother with a lunch break. Hadn’t bothered in years, he suddenly recalled. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her that!

“I have a gourmet meal catered around high noon,” he lied without compunction.

She shot him a glance that indicated she didn’t believe him. So, what did he care? He didn’t care, he assured himself. And furthermore, she wasn’t going to get another straight answer from him. He wasn’t going to give her the ammunition to analyze him to death.

“You exit your shop at six p.m. and drive home—except for today when your sisters purposely let the air out of your tires and asked me to personally escort you to the resort,” she continued.

J.T. gnashed his teeth. His kid sisters were definitely going to pay for having him shanghaied. Damn it, he’d made one personal sacrifice after another for them for years on end. He’d cared for them, provided for them and consoled them after their parents died unexpectedly in a boating accident during a vacation. The tragedy had changed the entire course of his family’s life, not to mention the excessive pressure put on him to assume full responsibility for Kim and Lisa.

“So, Jake, what do you do every day when you get home from work?” she prompted when he lingered too long in thought.

J.T. was really getting PO’d at the rapid-fire questions, with the entire turn of events that left him Miss Vivacious’s prisoner in this speeding vehicle. Although he did follow a monotonous diet of TV dinners and canned food, he did jog, pump iron and then work on his business accounts in the evening. But he wasn’t going to confide that he ate frozen chicken teriyaki on Monday and canned spaghetti and meatballs on Tuesday—and so on—to Moriah. In fact, he wasn’t going to tell her the truth about himself or his daily habits because it was none of her business.

“I enjoy fabulous meals prepared by my housekeeper and cook. Her name is Stella,” he said, improvising as he went along.

“Mmm,” was all she said in response. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Moriah had swallowed a snicker.

“Then I shower and change before I pick up one of my dates,” he said, weaving a fairy tale of lies that would throw Moriah off track.

“You date a lot then?” she asked, eyes twinkling, lips twitching.

“Continuously,” he said with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. “Different woman every night of the week. Variety is the spice of life, I always say.”

“And what do you and your dates do for entertainment?” she inquired as she veered down another gravel road that circled around the steep hillsides, taking him deeper into the middle of nowhere.

“We have sex,” J.T. told her outrageously. “Lots and lots of sex. Isn’t that the best form of relaxation for stressed-out businessmen like me?”

He really knocked her for a loop, he thought triumphantly. Her bewitching smile faltered and she cleared her throat. J.T. was so enormously pleased that he’d managed to rattle his abductor that he pushed the tall tale to the limit. “Really kinky sex. Erotic sex. I love sex. The more the better. It recharges my battery, so to speak.”

She made a strangled sound and kept her eyes on the road. “Interesting,” she tweeted.

“Exceptionally interesting. After all that heavy breathing and wild, mind-numbing sex I usually soak in my hot tub for a half hour.” He’d never taken time to soak in a hot tub in his life, truth be told. And the truth wouldn’t be told to Moriah.

“And what do you think about when you allow your mind to wander, Jake?”

He thought about his accounts every spare minute of the day, but he’d rather fire a couple of bullet holes into his foot than tell her because, sure as shootin’, she’d make something of it. “I think of unique places and inventive ways to have sex. I try not to use the same position twice.”

J.T. mentally patted himself on the back when Moriah’s face turned a fascinating shade of pink. This, by damn, should teach her not to pry into his personal life. He did not need stress management. He did not need to relax and he damn sure did not need a two-week vacation out here in nowhereville! His sisters should have their heads examined for scheming against him, damn it!

“Ah, here we are,” Moriah commented a few minutes later.

J.T. glanced out the window to survey ten, carbon-copy log cabins that were tucked beneath the canopy of shady cottonwood, elm and cedar trees. The resort was nestled beside a meandering river in a spacious valley between the rolling hills. A large stone-and-timber lodge sat in the middle of the well-manicured compound. A bunkhouse-style apartment complex sat off to the north side. A monstrous stable was butted up against a nearby hill.

The ranch was a cross between an isolated mountain retreat and the palatial plantations he’d visited as a kid during family vacations in Louisiana and Mississippi.

J.T. did admit the area was panoramic and serene, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of place J. T. Prescott wanted to waste time. And this was unquestionably a waste of his valuable time. He had things to do and he had no intention of doing them here—especially under the supervision of Miss Cheery and Chipper! The way he had it figured, if he smarted off often enough and put up plenty of belligerent resistance, Moriah would write him off as a lost cause and take him back to town so he could get back to doing what he did best—working relentlessly.

That was his plan and he was sticking with it.

“I’ll introduce you to the staff before I show you to your cabin,” she said as she bounded from the SUV.

J.T. frowned, wondering if Moriah always exuded this much bubbling energy and enthusiasm or if she put on an act for her stressed-out guests. His lips curled in objection when Moriah carelessly scooped his belongings off the back seat and made a beeline for the gargantuan lodge.

“I’ll take those,” he insisted. He followed quickly on her heels, willfully ignoring the hypnotic sway of curvy hips encased in trim-fitting red cotton. Instead, he concentrated on his mission of retrieving his delicate electronic equipment and floppy disks.

“No, sorry, Jake,” she told him with another one of those megawatt smiles that he was really beginning to despise. “All electronic devices and briefcases are checked at the registration desk. Oh, by the way, I’ll need your cell phone.”

“Why? Are you planning on making international calls and charging them to my account?” he asked caustically.

“No, I’m cutting you off from civilization so you won’t have contact with the world that’s placed excessive stress on your life and your inner self.”

J.T. screeched to a halt and glared at her good and hard. “No, you will not,” he said firmly. “I make a habit of calling my sisters three days a week and this is one of those days.”

“Your sisters are married and on their own,” she reminded him gently.

“Yes, and I paid for their weddings and walked them down the aisle,” he informed her tartly. “They’re the two reliable relationships in my life and I will call my family if I feel like it!”

Moriah squared off against him, her smile still intact. Why was he not surprised? “Your sisters know exactly where you are and what you will be doing for the next two weeks. Furthermore, you’re here to break habits.” She outstretched her hand, palm up. “Give me the phone, Jake.”

“The name is J.T.” He sneered at her.

“I told you that sounds too stuffy and businesslike, Jake,” she repeated emphatically.

Their gazes locked and clashed. Jake was accustomed to giving orders and having them executed quickly. But Moriah, apparently, was accustomed to getting her way, too, especially while she was on her own turf. For the first time in forever, he felt his confidence waver. That determined look on Moriah’s face indicated she wasn’t the pushover he hoped she’d be.

“Don’t make me send Tom Stevens out here to disarm you of your sacred phone.”

J.T. smirked at the threat and drew himself up to his most imposing and intimidating stature. “Tom and whose army is going to confiscate my state-of-the-art cell phone?”

To his dismay, Moriah let loose with a sharp whistle that blasted his eardrums. Immediately thereafter a big brawny, muscle-bound hulk—who had a monobrow stretching over his deep-set hazel eyes, and was built like a professional linebacker—appeared in the doorway of the lodge.

“Trouble, Mori?” Tom asked as he crossed his brawny arms over his buffalo-size chest and took J.T.’s measure through a narrowed gaze.

“Am I having trouble, Jake?” she asked all too sweetly.

J.T. considered his options and decided he didn’t have any. Damn it to hell! Muttering begrudgingly, he fished his cell phone from his suit pocket and slapped it into Moriah’s outstretched hand. He should’ve known Miss Smiley would have plenty of muscle to back up her demands.

Moriah tucked the phone into the pocket of her shorts, then grinned at Tom Stevens. “This is Jake Prescott,” she introduced. “Tom is our masseuse and weight trainer—”

“And your hired muscle,” J.T. finished for her. “Gee, I thought the idea here was to avoid stress, not get me all tensed up thinking I’ll have a serious fight on my hands if I don’t meekly comply with your unreasonable demands.”

Tom grinned, displaying a missing front tooth. J.T. would hate to meet the burly SOB who knocked out Tom’s teeth.

“Nice to meet you, Jake. Come ’round and see me about a massage when you get settled in.”

“Sure, Tom. Looking forward to it like you wouldn’t believe.”

He was looking forward to nothing of the kind!

When Tom disappeared back inside, Moriah smiled good-naturedly at J.T. He gnashed his teeth.

“It’s not unusual for our guests to suffer electronic-gadget and caffeine-buzz withdrawal the first few days, but it won’t be long before you realize there’s life beyond your regular routine in the business world. You’ll do fine here, Jake.”

Although he’d been defeated, he couldn’t resist tossing a sarcastic rejoinder to soothe his offended pride. “Yeah, I’ll do fine as long as I get my daily recommended dose of sex.” He checked his watch, hoping she wouldn’t take it away from him, too. “What time can I expect Lolita to show up at my cabin to scratch my daily sexual itch? I’d hate for her to come by during my usual yoga meditation session and deep breathing exercises.”

“Sorry, no Lolita,” she informed him as she led the way into the lobby of the lodge. “Maybe our cook, Anna Jefferies, will accommodate you. You can ask her.”

Anna Jefferies introduced herself to Jake a moment after he strode in the door. The stout, curly-chestnut-haired woman looked to be in her late forties. Judging by her leathery skin and wrinkled features, she’d spent a great deal of her life outdoors. She offered him a steaming cup of herbal tea and butter cookies while Moriah stashed his electronic devices in the safe behind the registration desk. J.T. didn’t ask Anna for sex, of course, although Anna’s conventional style of dress—a cream-colored blouse and faded blue jeans—held more appeal than Moriah’s loud attire.

When he saw Moriah’s lips twitching as her gaze bounced back and forth between him and Anna, J.T. muttered under his breath. Damn, he’d like to wipe that smile off Miss Chipper’s lips—or kiss it off…. J.T. jerked upright so quickly he nearly spilled hot tea down the front of his white shirt.

Where the hell had that ridiculous thought come from? Oh sure, he found Moriah Randell attractive, even if he didn’t approve of her bright clothing, her gaudy red fingernails, those huge hoop earrings and clattering bracelets. But, under no circumstances was he going to develop an interest in a woman who was his complete opposite during his two-day stay in the Oklahoma outback. Two days, he told himself resolutely, and then he was outta here!

“C’mon, Jake, I’ll introduce you to the golf course manager and stable manager,” Anna said, latching on to his arm to drag him along behind her. “Everybody’s just finishing up supper. Moriah will bring your meal to your cabin since you arrived late.”

While Anna shoveled Jake forward to make the acquaintance of the staff, Moriah filled out paperwork then grabbed the key to the available cabin. Her gaze drifted over the six-foot-two-inch, raven-haired man who’d given her a bad time during the hour drive to the resort. Sex, sex and more sex indeed, she mused, chuckling. She’d never heard such a crock of malarkey from one of her guests.

Of course, most of her guests came willingly, after a panic attack or some physical ailment that alerted them to their high-level stress. Jake Prescott, the King of Denial, had to be deceived into his two-week stay. His sisters were firmly convinced that Jake would never agree to come here on his own accord.

Moriah shook her head at the outrageous exaggerations Jake had concocted when she tried to make him aware that he’d become stuck in the rut of working non-stop without time off for relaxation. She didn’t believe that nonsense for a minute because J.T.’s sisters had filled her in completely.

According to Kim and Lisa, their older brother had become entrenched in routine and went through each day like a programmed robot. He left his house at precisely the same time each morning, stopped for a pastry and coffee, worked through the lunch hour, then returned home with a briefcase full of work projects. He had no social life worth mentioning. The only dates on his calendar were the ones his concerned sisters set up for him in attempt to alter his monotonous lifestyle.

Moriah was sure Jake would be a hard-core case that demanded extra time and effort. He refused to open up to her, refused to admit he led a mundane, predictable life that was devoid of entertainment and pleasure. Of course, the first difficulty for Jake to overcome was admitting he had a problem that needed to be addressed. Considering the resistance he raised, it could take a week for him to realize he needed to kick back and relax.

It might be a very long week, Moriah predicted.

Moriah appraised her new guest while he glanced around the spacious dining room. Black suit, white shirt, and nondescript black tie. According to his sisters, Jake had a closet full of black suits and white shirts. They were his standard business uniform—no deviation allowed. No bright, cheerful colors to spice up his wardrobe. Amazing, since Jake was touted as a highly creative design wizard.

Obviously, there was an interesting, unique man trapped inside that black suit. Moriah wondered if he would emerge in two weeks. Jake was definitely going to be a challenge, considering his tendency toward the stubborn and contrary. But she’d find a way to teach him to relax and enjoy his vacation.

Again, her astute gaze flooded over his lean physique and eye-catching profile. Jake Prescott wasn’t classically handsome. His features were a mite sharp and defined, and his displeased frown could be quite severe. She ought to know, having been on the wrong side of his displeasure during the long drive.

Moriah guessed Native American blood ran through his veins. His sisters bore a similar resemblance with their dark complexion and high cheekbones. Three peas from the same pod, and a family devoted to each other to boot, Moriah mused. Kim and Lisa were determined to save their beloved brother from his monotonous life, and Moriah was being well-paid to ensure the transformation took place—beginning now.

“Jake! Are you ready to settle into your cabin?” she called out to him.

He half-turned to stare down his nose at her. Yep, she definitely had her work cut out for her, she decided as she mustered another cheery smile to counter his aggravated frown.

2

MORIAH MOTIONED for Jake to follow her outside. When she stopped by the sport-utility vehicle to retrieve the suitcase he hovered over her, all but breathing down her neck.

“What’s that?” he questioned grouchily.

“Your sisters packed casual clothes for you,” she reported, handing him the luggage.

Moriah bit back a giggle when he stared at the baggage as if it were a live cobra. The reality that he was staying and that he needed several changes of clothes obviously hit him full force. The poor man was in for a shock when she left him at his cabin with his suitcase of casual clothes and nothing but free time on his hands. She sincerely hoped he didn’t freak out.

Jake hefted up the luggage and tossed her a smirk. “It’s a relief to hear you didn’t pack for me. I wouldn’t look worth a damn if I were impersonating a flag.”

Another cheap shot about her attire, she noted. If he thought trouncing on her feelings would get him out of here sooner then he was mistaken. She had her reasons for dressing colorfully, not that it was any of his business why she did it.

“Your sisters packed jeans and bland-tan and hohum-green chambray shirts,” she informed him. “I believe the term they used when referring to you was ‘a drab dresser’.”

He glanced sharply at her and frowned. “I believe the correct terms are conventional for me and outrageously flamboyant for you.”

Moriah shrugged lackadaisically as she made the three-hundred-yard hike to cabin number seven. “Outside dressing is really of no concern here at Triple R,” she assured him. “We aren’t the least bit superficial and we’re more interested in acknowledging and being kind to the true, inner self.”

He snorted at that. He was nothing if not predictable, Moriah thought.

“So, who actually owns this place?” he asked, falling into step just enough ahead of her to indicate he refused to leave the impression he was being led around. “Some stressed-out corporate executive who needs an occasional hiatus to revive those inner juices you keep harping about?”

“No, I own the place,” she informed him.

“You?” He glanced down at her. “You can’t be over twenty-five. Is Daddy’s money paying for this resort?”

“Actually I inherited the land when my mother died. My dad had a stroke three years ago because he worked constantly.” She sent him a pointed glance, then a smile. “Dad lives in the apartment beside mine behind the lodge. I’m thirty, by the way, not twenty-five, but thank you for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be one,” he didn’t fail to remark.

Moriah grinned at him. “Really? I was so hoping you’d have one nice thing to say about me.”

Before she could unlock the cabin door, Jake slapped a big hand on the doorjamb and stared her squarely in the eye. His expression was solemn, his onyx eyes intense. “We better get something straight from the get-go. I have no intention of being reformed by you or big brawny Tom Stevens, or stout Anna Jefferies or the rest of your staff. I like my life dandy-fine, thank you very much. How about if you give my well-meaning but misdirected kid sisters their money back and save yourself the wasted effort of cramming this compulsory R-and-R down my throat? In case you haven’t figured it out yet—and, smart lady that you are, I’m sure you have—I’m not planning to cooperate. In fact, I plan to be anything but cooperative.”

Moriah nodded in mock seriousness as she stabbed the key into the lock. “I understand completely and I realize this vacation will cramp your voracious and kinky sex life. But the contract states there will be no refunds, except in the event that you die of boredom.” She grinned at his ferocious scowl. “Then, of course, your sisters will be cheerfully reimbursed.”

“Real cute, Miss Chipper,” he muttered sarcastically.

“A compliment! Thank you kindly, Mr. Predictable,” she gushed as she shouldered through the doorway.

“Good God…” Jake halted on the threshold, his verbal sparring obviously forgotten. He stared at the interior of the cabin in such frantic horror that Moriah nearly burst out laughing at his reaction. “There’s no TV, no radio, no phone, no…” His voice gave out as his goggle-eyed gaze circled the room to appraise the overstuffed, sprawl-all-over-me couch and come-here-and-let-me-rub-you-all-over massage recliner. Then his astounded gaze leaped to the Murphy bed that folded down from the cedar-paneled walls.

Moriah watched his comical reaction to the simply furnished room that was equipped with soothing music, designed to relax tense guests, and decorated with the peaceful landscape paintings that depicted the timeless essence of snow-covered mountains, a rippling seashore and a rolling prairie. Most of her guests suffered minimal culture shock when they first arrived at the resort, but Jake reacted noticeably and made no attempt whatsoever to disguise his disapproval. Clearly, electronic-gadget withdrawal had hit him hard and fast.

He gaped at her, as if he’d been sentenced to two weeks in torturous hell. “You can’t be serious!” he choked out. “What the devil am I supposed to do with myself in this cabin for two tormenting weeks? And don’t give me that crap about tuning in to my inner self again or I’ll have to strangle you!”

He looked so thunderstruck and dismayed that she reflexively reached out to give him a consoling pat on the arm. Moriah was astonished at the tension pulsing through him. Lord, the poor man had no idea how desperately he needed to escape the rat race.

“Everything is going to be fine, Jake. You aren’t going to self-destruct in this unfamiliar environment, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. I’m self-destructing as we speak,” he said, and snorted.

“We have several activities scheduled to make your transition easier. We have a nine-hole golf course and the nearby river provides excellent fishing. There’s horseback riding, a hiking trail, indoor swimming, canoeing, paddleboating, a spacious hot tub and horseshoe games.”

He wrenched his arm free from her light grasp and then glowered laser beams at her. “I haven’t played golf in ten years. I’m not going to watch a damn cork bob on the river while trying to catch a blasted fish. I have a pool in my apartment complex if I want to use it. I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a kid, which is fine by me. And there’s no way in hell that I’m taking up the game of horseshoes unless I can pitch them around your neck!”

His voice rose to a shout. Moriah winced and cautioned herself not to lose her temper. None of her other guests put up this kind of fuss. Jake had been goading her for nearly two hours, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let him rile her, she promised herself fiercely.

In a burst of bad temper Jake lurched around and stalked over to the designated kitchen area in the far corner. “Great,” he muttered sourly. “Three feet of cabinet and counter space, plus a piddly little sink.” He jerked open a drawer, then shot her another seething glance. “What? No knife so I can slit my wrists and end this torture?” He hitched his thumb toward the small bathroom, then leveled her with another glare. “No soap-on-a-rope so I can hang myself, I suppose?”

She tried out another encouraging smile on him, not that it did a whit of good. If anything, it seemed to infuriate him further. Moriah was pretty sure Jake held her personally accountable for the anger simmering through him. “No knives or ropes, but I do have a puppy to keep you company. Pets have a calming influence on people.”

He gave her one of those don’t-even-think-about-it glowers before she pivoted to intercept Chester Gray, the golf course manager and groundskeeper, who strode up the wooden porch with the pooch cradled in his arms.

“Thanks, Chester,” she murmured as she cuddled the pup against her chest.

“You bet, Mori. Tell Jake the movie starts in forty-five minutes and Anna has his supper tray heated.”

Scratching behind the pup’s ear, Moriah pivoted to face Jake who growled ferociously. The puppy huddled fearfully in her arms.

“You expect me to take care of that spitwad of a dog?” he muttered crossly. “Think again, my dear Mo. You don’t mind if I call you Mo, do you? It’s not nearly as stuffy and sophisticated as Moriah.”

Leave it to Jake to throw her words in her face. She angled her head and appraised the frown that caused his thick brows to form a V over his glittering obsidian eyes. “You really aren’t taking this well, are you?”

“Gee, ya think?” he said, then snorted. “How many more times do I have to express my displeasure before you get it through your dense blond head that I want no part of this stress management crapola!”

Moriah willfully overlooked the dumb-blonde wise-crack, giving it the lack of recognition it deserved, and scratched beneath the puppy’s chin. “As I was saying,” she went on determinedly, “we take in the unwanted dogs from the animal shelter in town to serve as companions for our guests. According to statistics, animals have a soothing effect on—”

He waved her off with an impatient flick of his wrist. “Don’t start with me. I don’t want a dog. I don’t want to be here. Do you hear me?”

Moriah smiled bravely in the face of his booming tirade. “Yes I do, but I’m not sure my guest in cabin number one heard you loud and clear.”

He bared his teeth and flashed her the queen mother of all glares. She smiled—with considerable effort. “The dog food and bowls are on the floor of the closet. The pup is housebroken.”

“Well, I’m not,” he smarted off.

Moriah bit back a grin, then glanced sideways to see Anna Jefferies ambling up the stone walkway. “Ah, here comes supper. Anna must’ve given up on me.”

“Supper?” he said caustically. “I figured Spitwad and I were supposed to rough it tonight and share the dog food.”

Moriah set the pup on the floor and exited to take the tray Anna held out to her.

“I could hear him yelling at two hundred yards,” Anna murmured, grinning. “He’s going to take special effort, I’d say.”

“He’ll be fine once he calms down and accepts his fate.” She hoped.

When Anna reversed direction and hiked off, Moriah carried the covered tray inside and set it on the small drop-leaf table. “Here’s your supper, Jake.”

“Ah, good. A reason to live. For a while there, I wasn’t sure there was one.”

She ignored his wiseass remarks. She predicted she’d be doing a lot of that during his two-week stay. “We’ll be expecting you to join us for the movie this evening. You can meet the other guests.”

“And you can hold your breath waiting for me to show up,” he snapped.

Moriah did her best to ignore his hostility—again. “We don’t watch highly intense adventure movies at the resort. Just lighthearted comedies and such.”

“No trashy porno?” he asked. “No, of course not. What was I thinking? We wouldn’t want to get all these maxed-out businessmen fired up, would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” she agreed. “It might upset the inner self.”

“You can take your psychobabble and stick it where the sun—”

Moriah promptly shut the door before he finished voicing his insult. Rightfully, she should be annoyed with her belligerent guest. Instead, she found him amusing, entertaining and very different from her older guests. She knew Jake was fighting back the only way he knew how—by lashing out at her in frustration.

And maybe there was a little fear involved here, too, she mused pensively. Fear of the unknown and the unfamiliar. Jake was also suffering from separation anxiety from his predictable life and from his close association with his sisters.

According to Kim and Lisa, Jake had devoted his life to raising them and making scads of money to provide for them. He’d taken family responsibility seriously and it led him into such a deep rut that he couldn’t see his way out. Asking Jake to change his ways made him uncomfortable and defensive. Moriah understood that, even if Jake refused to acknowledge that he was feeling anything except annoyance.

Somehow or another, she was going to get through to this man. She was going to teach him how to relax, how to take life at a more leisurely pace, how to laugh and smile. The man took himself, and life, entirely too seriously. Jake Prescott wasn’t the hopeless cause he wanted her to think he was. He simply had to be retrained to take a different approach to life.

If Jake didn’t cooperate she might have to resort to konking him over the head and knocking some sense into him. Moriah grinned mischievously. That idea held tremendous appeal at the moment.

JAKE STARED DOWN at the fuzzball of a dog that sniffed at his shoes. The multicolored, pint-size mutt appeared to be a cross between a frizzy-haired miniature poodle, a Pekingese, a Chihuahua and who knew what else. The mutt was butt-ugly.

Sighing audibly, Jake glanced around the efficiency cabin once again, finding nothing comforting or appealing to him. What the sweet loving hell was he going to do with himself out here in the boondocks? Already the index finger of his right hand felt empty without a computer mouse resting beneath it. In addition, there was no phone to call his demented sisters and rake them over live coals for this horrendous betrayal. What the hell were those two thinking? They weren’t thinking, he decided. Of all the lamebrain ideas they’d ever concocted over the years this topped the list!

Muttering several foul expletives, Jake plunked down on the wooden chair to examine his evening rations. A tantalizing aroma filled his nostrils as he uncovered the plate that was heaping with smoked ribs, a baked potato, corn on the cob and vanilla pudding. Until now, he’d been too upset to realize he was starving. Jake plucked up a sparerib and sighed in culinary anticipation. Anna Jefferies might look like the female version of an army drill sergeant but she could damn sure cook, he decided at first bite.

Jake polished off the first melt-in-your-mouth spare-rib, then glanced down to see the mutt staring hopefully at him. “Yeah, well, that’s all I figured a little beggar like you would be good for anyway.” He handed the spitwad of a dog a chunk of meat. The mutt practically grinned as he trotted across the tile to plop down on the rug beside the sink. Jake watched the mutt chew his food happily.

While Jake ate his meal, he pondered this pointless hiatus. In the first place, he didn’t need stress reduction. No way, no how. He’d never suffered an anxiety attack. Okay, so he did endure throbbing headaches, eyestrain, shoulder strain and a few other job-related ailments, but that went with the territory. Jogging and pumping iron usually relieved his tension.

Secondly, who did that thirty-year-old bombshell think she was? A wanna-be psychologist? The next Dr. Freud? The way Jake saw it, Moriah was only colorful, attractive scenery at this haunt in the woods. For sure, she hadn’t been able to pry useful information from him during their road trip. He hadn’t told her a damn thing she could use to pick him apart and readjust his lifestyle—and that’s the way it would stay.

Having finished the delicious meal, Jake opened his suitcase to see what his sisters had packed for him. Sure enough, there was an array of chambray shirts in muted colors, plus several pairs of prewashed jeans, shorts and T-shirts. Jake’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets when he noticed the new string bikini briefs—in assorted bold colors and wild prints—that his ornery sisters had purchased for him. Hell! He favored the garden variety of white cotton underwear, not these skimpy scraps of fabric. The prospect of his kid sisters buying him this racy underwear made him cringe. Jeez!

Muttering and snarling in frustration, Jake shed his suit and donned a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. He had no problem with casual clothes—the bikini briefs he wasn’t so sure about—but he wasn’t going to tramp over to the lodge to watch a flick with the old fogies from the other cabins. Furthermore, he was in no mood to see Moriah again. He was keeping his distance from the walking American flag. He wasn’t sure why he felt it imperative to avoid her as much as possible, but some inner voice—Good gad! He was starting to sound like her already—kept warning him to watch his step with her. He was too reactionary around her.

Besides that, he didn’t like blue-eyed blondes on general principle. His two-timing ex-fiancée was a blue-eyed blonde, so that was one strike against Moriah. Then there was the fact that Moriah dressed too outrageously for Jake’s sedate tastes. He preferred subtle and subdued. Moriah Randell was one of those here-I-come-ready-or-not, in-your-face kind of females. Plus, she was nagging him to get in touch with his inner self—whatever good that was supposed to do. She wanted him to change his perfected routine and develop a carefree approach to life.

Bull! It was all a bunch of bull!

“Ain’t happenin’,” Jake told himself resolutely. He may be stuck here for two hellish weeks—an eternity as far as he was concerned—rather than two days, but nobody was messing with his attitude. It worked for him and he wasn’t changing his ways at this late date.

When his parents died he’d moved back home to give Kim and Lisa the extra attention, security, guidance and support that a fourteen-year-old and sixteen-year-old needed at such a crucial time. He’d made a solemn commitment to his family and he’d stuck to it for ten years. It had cost him a fiancée and a social life. Hell, you couldn’t bring home a babe and fool around when you had two impressionable teenage sisters underfoot who were trying to cope with a devastating loss, could you? How insensitive would that have been?

Oh sure, Jake had promised himself that once he raised his kid sisters he’d let loose and enjoy himself for a couple of years. But working and riding herd over his sisters had become such an ingrained habit that he never got around to breaking it.

Jake had occupied his time and mind by getting his graphic design shop up and running. He’d had more clients than he knew what to do with before he knew it. So what was wrong with that? He’d taken on the responsibility of his sisters and become financially and professionally successful. Was that a crime? Around Triple R it was, apparently, he mused as he shoved his foot into the sneakers his sisters packed for him. If Moriah had her way, Jake would be strolling around the wooded hills, picking wildflowers and meditating. Not very damn likely!

Yeah, okay, so maybe he was transferring his frustration about the situation, and this feeling of betrayal to Moriah, when it rightfully should be vented on his sisters. But his sisters weren’t within earshot—and he couldn’t get his mitts on a damn phone to chew them down one side and up the other!

It was better this way, Jake convinced himself. Directing his irritation at Moriah was the safe thing to do. Fact was that, despite her vivid blue eyes and thick blond hair, despite her shockingly loud clothes and those aggravating smiles that nothing he said could affect, he was a teensy-weensy bit attracted to her.

A reluctant smile pursed his lips, remembering how her cheery smile had faltered when he kept yammering on and on about using sex, sex and more sex as a remedy to reduce stress. He’d rattled her, he knew. It was the most fun he’d had all day. Maybe all week…all month…aw, hell!

The disturbing thought that enjoyment wasn’t an integral part of his everyday life put Jake on his feet and had him moving toward the cabin door. “C’mon, Spitwad,” he commanded as he strode onto the porch. “Time to go jogging. And you better keep up or I’ll leave you out in the woods to find your way home. Or get eaten by a bear—whichever.”

The mutt stared at him, then glanced at the half-eaten chunk of meat between his front paws.

“If I’ve gotta hang out here in the boonies, then you’ve gotta hang out with me, Fuzzball,” Jake told the mutt. “Get off your lazy butt and let’s go.”

The pup defied him and went back to gnawing on the meat.

Jake stamped over to snatch the food away, tucked it in a napkin and then crammed it into his shirt pocket. Left with nothing else to do, the pup followed at Jake’s heels.

Left with nothing else to do, Jake thought as he jogged along the footpath that wound through the hills. Boy, if that didn’t just about say it all!

MORIAH HAD JUST returned to the lobby after chatting with the guest in cabin number three, when a baritone roar gushed through the open window. She had a pretty good idea who let out that booming shout. She made a beeline for cabin number seven.

Before she got within a hundred yards of the cabin the offensive smell of skunk closed in around her. Moriah covered the lower portion of her face with her hand, then glanced this way and that.

“Jake?” she called to the darkness at large.

“Over here, damn it to hell!” he bellowed like an outraged moose.

Moriah veered toward the hiking path, relying on the golden shaft of light that streamed through the cabin windows. She heard the pup’s abrupt yip and Jake’s muttered growl.

“C’mere, you idiotic mutt!” he snarled.

The bushes shook, then Jake, clutching the little pooch like a football, came into view. Moriah reflexively stepped back several paces when the foul odor grew more potent.

“What happened?” she asked without daring to take a breath.

“Spitwad thinks he’s a damn bloodhound,” Jake muttered irritably. “He flushed out a damn skunk and we both suffered a direct hit. You’ll have to go into my cabin and fetch some clean clothes for me.”

It wasn’t a request, she noted. It was a direct order. She suspected Jake was accustomed to barking orders, which was probably why he balked and brooded after being forced to do as he was told at the resort.

“There’s no way that I’m going to enter my cabin in these smelly clothes,” he grumbled. “The whole place will stink to high heaven. I’ll have to bathe in the river first.”

“I’ll be right back with clean clothes,” she said as she whipped around and sprinted to the cabin.

Hurriedly, Moriah grabbed a blasé-brown shirt and blue jeans. She rifled through the luggage to locate underwear. Her sense of urgency screeched to a halt when she spotted the sexy bikini briefs. Moriah snickered right out loud, envisioning Jake prancing around in this leopard-print underwear—and nothing else….

Moriah quashed the tantalizing vision and stifled the alarming thought immediately. It shocked her to no end that she could so easily imagine what Jake would look like in this leopard-print garment. It also unsettled her to the extreme to realize that the initial attraction she’d felt—and tried to suppress—had come through for the second time today. Well, okay, she corrected grudgingly, for the fourth or fifth time today.

Of course, nothing would come of this flare-up of physical awareness, she reminded herself. She had no intention of getting personally involved with any of her guests. Most of the businessmen—and the occasional female executive—who came to her resort were in their sixties, so the problem hadn’t actually arisen.

And then along came Jake, she mused as she headed toward the door, with his jeans and shirt tucked under her arm and those skimpy leopard-print briefs hooked over her index finger.

Okay, Moriah, she told herself on her way across the front porch, you aren’t going to get involved with Jake for several reasons. Number one: it goes against your personal rules and regulations. Number two: Jake is an intense workaholic, who’s allergic to the concept of free time, and you advocate a carefree lifestyle. The list went on, but Moriah wasn’t one for making lists. That was probably one of Jake’s habits.

She and Jake viewed life from entirely opposite perspectives. No, she wouldn’t become romantically involved with Jake because she’d learned the hard way that she wasn’t good at relationships unless they were built on the need and dependence of the other party—like recreational director to guest, or daughter to ailing mother or father. She had accepted the fact that love was not going to play a dominant role in her life and that she could make her contribution to humanity by providing recreational activities and hobbies for her stressed-out guests.

However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with the blustering Jake Prescott, she decided as she twirled his bikini briefs around her forefinger. The man needed to lighten up and learn to laugh and smile occasionally. Moriah made a pact with herself, there and then, to ensure Jake did exactly that!

3

JAKE INWARDLY GROANED when Moriah sashayed toward him, twirling the ridiculous underwear around her finger and grinning mischievously. He also noticed Moriah had a naturally provocative saunter when she let her guard down. “That happens to be my sisters’ idea of a joke,” he was quick to inform her.

Moriah halted a safe distance away. Not that he blamed her. The stench surrounding him had to be mega-offensive. Of course, Jake’s olfactory senses were in traumatic shock, so he couldn’t smell much of anything at the moment.

“You realize, I’m sure,” she said with an entirely different kind of smile than he was used to getting from her, “that knowing you wear leopard-print bikinis will make it difficult for me to take all your snarling and growling seriously from here on out, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware that you were taking me seriously before,” Jake murmured distractedly. He stood there, studying Moriah’s enticing profile, which was enhanced by the backwash of light streaming from his cabin windows. He wasn’t sure at what precise moment he became intently aware of Moriah—probably the first time he piled into the vehicle with her—but he could easily detect the difference between her neutral smile and the impish grin she was wearing now. He wasn’t sure what this new smile meant, but it was doing crazy things to his pulse.

Jake stiffened—especially in places that had no business whatsoever getting stiff—and battled his attraction to Moriah. “If you’ll leave my clothes draped over a bush near the river I won’t have to touch them until I rid myself of this offensive smell.”

“Sure, be glad to,” she said, still twirling his undies and grinning devilishly. “I’ll show you the best place to bathe without worrying about stepping into an unseen hole and going under.”

With Spitwad tucked securely under his arm, Jake followed a safe distance behind Moriah. He didn’t know why he was being courteous. He shouldn’t be. He should share this stench with her, just for spite.

“I’m not going to have to fight off alligators and snakes in here, am I? The skunk was enough excitement for one night.”

“No, you should be relatively safe. Here you go, Jake.” She gestured to the narrow footpath that led to the sandy bank. “Soak to your heart’s content.”

Jake squatted down to remove his sneakers, then walked into the river. Although the October evening was unseasonably warm, the cool water gave him the shivers and made Spitwad squirm for release, but Jake submerged the mutt, nonetheless. When he resurfaced, he released the pooch to paddle around in circles.

“Toss me your stinky clothes and I’ll launder them for you,” Moriah offered. “I have a surefire product that will eliminate the stench.”

Jake peeled off his socks and shirt, then hurled them toward a bushy shrub.

“Now take off your pants,” she said, snickering.

“This is not amusing,” Jake muttered as he shed his shorts and briefs.

“From my standpoint it is,” she replied as she set aside his clean clothes. “I don’t usually chitchat with naked guests, but I’m making the exception with you. This is the perfect chance for you to try deep breathing. Fill your lungs, and then let your breath out slowly and try to relax.”

Jake glowered at her as she perched on a boulder near the river. “And if I refuse to cooperate?” he challenged.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Then I take your clean clothes, your dirty clothes, your cabin key and leave you to prance around naked. Now breathe, Jake.”

Begrudgingly, he breathed in the evening air and slowly exhaled. “There. Finished. Breathing exercises over. Go away, Mo.”

She shook her head. Her golden hair glowed like a halo in the moonlight. Jake wondered how that thick mane would look if she set it free to flow over her shoulders and down her back. Damn but she was a pretty woman. He wished he hadn’t noticed. Good thing he was waist deep in cold water. Otherwise, he might embarrass himself.

“I’m not going anywhere until we’ve spent quality time together,” Moriah insisted. “Take another deep breath.”

Muttering, Jake did as he was told. He scooped up the mutt to give the soggy animal a rest after swimming circular laps.

“The problem with developing a structured routine is that we don’t take time off to enjoy life’s simple pleasures,” she commented. “We have to be impulsive occasionally. We have to figure out what makes us happy and reward ourselves with enjoyable pursuits. What makes you happy, Jake?”

He thought about that for a moment. To his dismay, he couldn’t think of anything other than checking on his sisters. Good gad!

“Difficult question?” she asked gently. “Obviously it’s been too long since you really let loose to remember what you like to do for leisure and entertainment.”

“No, it hasn’t,” he said defensively. “I told you I like sex, plenty of sex with a disgustingly large number of different women to appease my obsessive penchant for variety and change of pace. I’m a card-carrying sexaholic.”

“You might as well know your sisters already informed me that your only dates are the ones they manipulate you into taking out.”

“And they’ll pay dearly for talking out of school,” he said, and scowled.

“Kim and Lisa want to help you. I want to help you find yourself.”

“I’m not lost. I know exactly where the hell I am and you can help most by leaving,” he snapped. “The water is cold and I’d like to get out!”

“I’ll leave when you admit to me, and to yourself, that it’s time to change your predictable, monotonous lifestyle and open your mind to developing a few hobbies.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I need a hobby. Are you happy now?”

“No, because you’re patronizing me.”

Jake sighed irritably. He was cold, tired and in no mood for this compulsory stress-reducing session. “Is this the way you impose your carefree philosophy on your guests? You drive them into the river and baptize them with your devil-may-care theories?”

“I advocate living life to its fullest, most promising potential. It’s not the same as devil-may-care,” she corrected pleasantly. “Most of my guests have acknowledged their problem before they arrive. You, however, require more drastic measures to open your eyes and see the light…. I’ll be around in the morning to take you horseback riding.”

“What time?” he asked.

She grinned. “We try to avoid schedules because we’re here to break routines. We’ll be getting together at various times of the day.”

Well, so much for accusing her of establishing a routine, he mused sourly.

“I’ll be back later with a glass of warm milk before bedtime,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet.

“I don’t drink milk, warm or otherwise,” he muttered stubbornly.

“Would you prefer a small glass of wine instead?”

“What I would prefer,” he said through chattering teeth, “is to get the hell out of the river and go home where I belong!”

Moriah strolled down the riverbank to face him directly. Her perpetual smile vanished, he noted. She stood with feet askance, arms crossed over her chest. Her stance indicated that she meant business. “You aren’t going anywhere until I find a way to push your fun button.”

“I don’t have a fun button,” he retorted.

“Oh, yes, you do. I’m making it my mission in life to find it and to push it—hard and often,” she said very determinedly. “We’re going to find something here at the resort that you like to do and you’re going to do it—cheerfully!”

“Cheerfully choking you has exceptional appeal,” he couldn’t resist saying.

“Well, at least there’s something that makes you happy. That’s a good place to start.” She plucked up his soggy clothes. “Later, Jake.”

When she walked away, Jake headed for shore, trying to ignore the nip of his conscience. He was being extraordinarily hard on Moriah, he knew, but it felt necessary for some reason. Something about that woman put him on the defensive and kept him there. He didn’t want to like her…but he did. He didn’t want to be attracted to her…but he was.

Certainly, nothing could come of his interest because it was a dead-end street. He had his responsibilities and she obviously had hers. Whatever he was feeling—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to examine it too closely—was just physical. He’d done without sex longer than he cared to admit and Moriah sparked awareness in him, was all. All his yammering about sex had simply brought it to his attention and escalated his awareness.

Jake shrugged on his clothes and walked barefoot up the sandy path. “C’mon, Spitwad. We’ve had enough excitement for the night. Don’t go sniffing out some other varmint.”

The mutt shook himself off, then trotted obediently at Jake’s heels. The instant Jake entered the cabin he headed for the shower and slathered his body with soap. After scrubbing himself squeaky clean, he wrapped a towel around his hips and strode off to retrieve the scandalous briefs his mischievous sisters packed for him.

Jake pulled up short when he saw Moriah hovering beside the door, a short glass of wine in hand and a shocked expression on her face. Her gaze drifted over his bare chest, skidded over the damp towel, then shot upward and a tinge of color blossomed in her cheeks. Well, well, Moriah wasn’t quite as immune to him as he thought she was, he noted.

“Like what you see?” he asked when her gaze made another sweep of his scantily clad body. “Is this one of those Kodak moments? Too bad you didn’t come armed with a camera.”

She jerked upright, then met his amused gaze. “Sorry. I…um…I thought I’d g-given you enough time to shower and dress b-before…um…delivering your wine,” she stammered, her face aflame. “When y-you didn’t…um…answer m-my knock at the door, I…uh…wanted to make sure you hadn’t done yourself bodily harm.”

Clearly, she felt awkward and uncomfortable. Devilishly, he wondered what she’d do if he dropped the towel and reached for those candy-apple red bikini briefs. He really should do it. After all, she’d been nagging him to do something reckless and impulsive, hadn’t she?

“Is there anything else, Mo?” he prompted when she simply stood frozen to the spot, scrutinizing him.

“Er…no…um…I’ll just set your wine on the table and give you some…uh…privacy.” Like a shot, she zipped across the cabin. In her haste to leave the wine and skedaddle, she clanked the bottom of the stemmed goblet against the edge of the table. The goblet cart-wheeled over the back of her hand. Wine splattered on the tiled floor and glass shattered in a gazillion pieces.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry!” Moriah yelped in dismay.

Amused, Jake watched Moriah hunker down to pick up shards of glass. He noticed her hands shook as she cleaned up her mess. Male pride swelled to gigantic proportions, as he realized that he was having a tremendously unsettling effect on her. Her face was beet-red from the roots of her blond hair to the base of her neck and she was making a big production of not looking in his direction.

When the pup trotted over to slurp up the spilled wine, Moriah shifted sideways to block the dog and accidentally smacked her head on the sharp corner of the table. The blow caused her to teeter off balance. She reached down to brace herself—and embedded slivers of glass in her hand.

“Ouch! Damn it!” She recoiled and blood immediately spread across the heel of her hand.

“Leave the mess. I’ll clean it up,” Jake insisted, as he shooed the mutt out the door. “Come into the bathroom and let me have a look at the damage.”

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled as she reached up with her good hand to inspect the knot on her hairline. “I’m usually not this clumsy.”

“Oh? What do you suppose caused it tonight?” he couldn’t resist teasing her.

“If you had any decency you’d put your pants on,” she muttered at him.

His brows furrowed in feigned confusion. “Not twenty minutes ago you ordered me to drop my drawers. Now you want me to put them on. Which is it, Mo?” he razzed her unmercifully.

She flashed him a fulminating glance. “I better leave before—”

Watching where he stepped, Jake grabbed the back of her shirt and hoisted her to her feet. Despite her objection, he shepherded her into the bathroom.

“Let’s see how deep the cuts are,” he said as he turned on the faucet and then shoved her right hand beneath the stream.

“I-It’s f-fine. I—I’m okay,” she stuttered.

“Now who’s in a state of denial?” he asked as he glanced sideways to see her gaze focused on the light furring of hair on his chest and belly. He really had her discombobulated and he was loving every minute of it.

Moriah inhaled a deep, cathartic breath, then exhaled. Jake noted she practiced what she preached when she found herself tensed up. And she was definitely tense. Why do you suppose that was? he thought wickedly.

“I…uh…don’t think I’ll bleed to death before I reach my apartment,” she chirped, staring down at her injured hand—anywhere but at him.

“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he said, grinning. “After the fuss I put up about being abducted and held hostage here, I’ll be the prime suspect if you’re found in a pool of blood.”

When he bent forward to examine her hand closely, his bare shoulder grazed her arm. He felt her flinch. “Hurt?” he asked, smothering a snicker.

“Er…no.” Her voice wobbled noticeably.

Jake grinned, enjoying the effect he had on Moriah. He brushed her shoulder again—accidentally on purpose—and felt a tremor run down to her arm to her hand. When he saw her gaze drop, he glanced down to see what had diverted her attention. His bare hip was peeking from the split in the towel. Her face splashed with color as she snapped up her head and met his knowing grin in the mirror. He didn’t think her face could turn redder. Amazingly, amusingly it did. Considering all the blood rushing to her face and ears, he wondered if her head was about to explode.

“Hold still a minute and I’ll dig out the shards with tweezers.” He opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve the tweezers, antiseptic and bandages he’d noticed earlier.

Moriah, who had yet to be at a loss for words, and was usually in complete control of her composure in his presence, just stood there as if she’d been shot with a stun gun. Jake concentrated on removing the slivers of glass, but he recalled what Moriah had said about finding enjoyment. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that verbally sparring with her during their road trip, having her lecture him on breaking old habits while she held him as a captive audience in the river, and watching her get flustered at the sight of him wearing nothing but a towel was the most fun he’d had since he couldn’t remember when. He felt alive, different somehow. He felt more attuned to himself than when he was living his robotlike existence in the city.

“I think I removed all the glass,” he murmured as he rinsed her hand. “Now for the antiseptic and bandages. You’ll be almost as good as new.”

Within a few minutes he had completed his first-aid ministrations. Moriah still hadn’t spoken and her face was still blotchy with color. He noticed she’d taken a couple more of those cathartic breaths she was so fond of, in order to restore her composure.

The moment he released her hand she shot from the bathroom like a cannonball. “Thanks, Jake. I need to check on my dad before I turn in. See you tomorrow morning.”

Chuckling, he watched her beat a hasty retreat. Humming softly to the tune playing on the canned music system, Jake squatted down to clean up the broken glass. All the while he kept replaying the scene with Moriah. She certainly had turned skittish around him this evening.

Self-assured and confident as she usually was, he hadn’t expected that. It made him wonder about her sex life—or lack thereof.

What kind of romantic relationship could she possibly have when she lived at the resort and cared for her father and catered to her guests? Not much of one, he figured. He wondered why. She was certainly personable, intelligent and attractive. So what was the deal with Moriah?

Jake went to bed that night with Moriah on his mind—and not a single thought of the graphic shop that had consumed the past ten years of his life.

MORIAH, feeling a little frazzled, hiked toward the stables to retrieve two horses. She hadn’t slept worth a damn the previous night, thanks to her encounter with Jake—the ornery rascal! Every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing his appealing image in that skimpy towel that parted to expose his bare hip, not to mention the unhindered view of his broad chest, washboarded belly and muscular legs. Damn! Wasn’t it enough that she’d had her hands on his racy bikini underwear? Then she’d seen him fresh from the shower, wearing a towel. Sheesh! She did not need to become more aware of him than she already was.

Well, she’d just have to forget last night happened, she told herself sensibly. Jake was her guest and he had a ways to go before he learned to adjust to a less stressful lifestyle. Plus, she had no interest in men who were so forcefully driven toward success that they couldn’t devote time and attention to their significant others.

She’d noticed at the buffet breakfast earlier that morning that Jake kept checking his watch. She should’ve taken that away from him, too, she supposed, because he was too clued in to time schedules.

He hadn’t mixed and mingled with her other guests at breakfast, just sat at the far end of the table with his gaze glued to his plate. She noticed he stuck a couple of slices of bacon in a napkin and tucked them in his pocket before he left the lodge. Snacks for the pup, no doubt. For all his grousing and complaining about the imposition of having the pooch underfoot, Jake was taking good care of the animal. Better care, in fact, than her other guests took of their temporary pets. It proved that Jake wasn’t self-absorbed and focused solely on himself. She liked that about him.

“Hey, Mori, how’s it goin’?”

She glanced up and waved at Kent Foster, the former rodeo star who had signed on to care for the livestock and guide her guests along the riding trails. Although Kent had broken several bones during his career as a bull rider, and walked with a noticeable limp, the wiry cowboy never failed to show up and put in a hard day’s work. His love of animals was apparent in the way he tended the horses. He talked to them, petted them and pampered them as if they were his children.

“Things are going fine,” Moriah replied as she halted beside Kent.

“Yeah?” Kent grinned as he adjusted his Resistol hat. “Word around the ranch is that we have a hostile guest on our hands.”

“Jake is beginning to settle in,” she said optimistically. “We’re riding this morning. Have any of the other guests contacted you about going riding?”

Kent nodded, then brushed the blades of straw off his faded jeans. “Yup. Three of ’em,” he drawled. “I thought we’d follow the path that meanders up to the lookout point that towers over the river. Nothin’ like a breathtakin’ view of the great outdoors to start your mornin’ off right.”

“I better make my rounds before my guests scatter,” Moriah replied.

“I’ll fetch a couple of saddle horses for you.” Kent pivoted on his boot heels to retrieve the mounts. In less than a minute he returned, leading a sorrel and buckskin.

“I don’t know much about Jake’s ridin’ experience, so I’ll give him Ol’ Sally. She’s so easygoin’ that you can climb on the wrong side of her and she doesn’t even twitch her ears.”

Moriah decided she could take lessons from the good-natured sorrel. She’d become extremely twitchy while Jake was ambling around the cabin in his towel, looking so incredibly appealing that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. When he brushed up against her, his arousing touch and the scent of him bombarded her. The very last thing Moriah needed was to become more aware of that man than she already was. The prospect had disaster written all over it in flaming letters.

Well, she’d just have to concentrate on keeping an emotional distance, she lectured herself as she mounted the buckskin.

Fifteen minutes later, Moriah tethered the horses beside Jake’s cabin, then climbed up the steps. Before she could rap on the door, it swung open.

Jake frowned curiously as she offered him the red rose clasped in her hand. “What’s that for?”

“I deliver a rose to each guest every morning,” she informed him with a cheery smile.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess. We’re supposed to take time to smell the roses along the pathway of life.”

“Very astute, Jake.” She eased past him to retrieve a vase from the cabinet.

Moriah glanced over her shoulder at the table, then blushed when she remembered the disaster she’d caused because she got so rattled when she walked in on Jake while he was draped with a towel. “Is the pup okay? He didn’t suffer any glass cuts, did he?” she asked, striving for a casual tone.

“He’s fine. No harm done. And by the way, why did I get this fuzzball of a dog for my companion when I noticed your other guests have more manly pets? I’ve seen a Doberman, a chow and a German shepherd trailing behind some of the guests. I get the wuss dog that has a thing for skunks. Thanks so much, Mo.”

Moriah set the rose on the table and pasted on a smile. “Don’t take it personally, Jake. The pup is a new arrival and so are you. Besides, those supposed watchdogs you mentioned turned out to be wimps. That’s why their owners foisted them off on the animal shelter. You raise your voice to the Doberman and he cuts and runs scared.”

Jake gave her the once-over as she headed for the door. “Nice outfit, Mo. I see you’re impersonating a flower garden today.”

“And you’re wearing ho-hum green,” she noted.

A wry grin pursed his lips and he waggled his eyebrows at her. “Only on the outside. Inside I’m hot-to-trot red.”

Moriah felt heat rising to her cheeks. Having seen Jake in a towel made it infinitely easier to visualize him wearing his flashy briefs. That was not a good thing. “Well, that’s a start in spicing up your life, I’d say,” she said breezily. “Shall we go riding?”

“Can’t wait,” he enthused. “I feel the overwhelming need for the speed you’re so fond of.”

“I was planning a leisurely ride so we could get to know each other better.”

“No, you’re planning to lecture me,” he said perceptively, then swept his arm toward the door. “Let’s get this show on the road, Mo. We’re burning daylight.”

4

JAKE AMBLED toward the horses. “So what’s up with your loud clothes? I’ve already figured out they’re a disguise of sorts.”

Moriah missed a step. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why are you begging my pardon? You haven’t offended me in almost five minutes,” he said flippantly.

“I just happen to like colorful clothes,” she replied as she mounted the buckskin.

“Aw, c’mon, Mo. I’m not as stupid as I look.” Jake swung effortlessly onto the sorrel mare. “For some reason, you don’t want the male of the species to notice how attractive and well-built you are. That wild wardrobe is not so much an attention-grabber as a clever distraction. So is that perky, bubbling facade of yours. I wonder if anyone at Triple R has ever actually met the real Moriah Randell.”

Moriah felt her temper rising when Jake tried to pick her apart. Then she realized she’d just experienced what he must be feeling when she tried to impose her unfamiliar beliefs on him. Willfully, she focused on remaining cool, calm and collected. “No need to worry about me. We’re here to discuss methods of altering your routines and improving your life, remember?”

“How can I forget? You harp at me every chance you get. So what’s your story, sugarplum?”

This man was going to be even more trouble than she originally anticipated. Her other guests arrived here, keyed on themselves, anxious for suggestions and solutions to their stress. Not Jake, damn him. In an effort to keep the focus off him, Jake poked and prodded into her psyche. Well, if opening up to him promoted his willingness to relax and confide in her, then so be it. Refusing to answer his questions might leave the impression that she was as obstinate and unapproachable as he was. One mule-stubborn individual around here was plenty.

Moriah led the way to the path that skirted the river and formulated her thoughts. “My story is nothing earth-shaking,” she began as she settled comfortably on the saddle. “I spent a great deal of time caring for my ailing mother during adolescence, while my father worked long days and made numerous business trips. When my mother died, my dad dealt with his grief by taking on even more projects that kept him away from home.”

“So you didn’t have the opportunity to run fast and loose as a teenager,” he presumed.

“No, caretakers are rarely allowed that privilege,” she agreed, smiling ruefully. “By the time I entered college I had a solid background in caregiving and nursing. I also liked to dabble in psychology and I developed an interest in stress management, after watching Dad run himself ragged. After I graduated I worked as the assistant director of stress management for several corporate firms in Oklahoma City.”

“If you were doing what you were trained to do, why did you leave your job?” Jake asked, watching her astutely.

Moriah squirmed uneasily in the saddle. “Because I…” Her voice fizzled out. She drew a deep breath, ignored her humiliation and blurted out, “Because I got my heart broken and I wanted to make a new start.”

“Good enough reason,” Jake remarked. “Who was the jerk?”

Moriah relaxed enough to chuckle. After five years, she could be a little more objective. Plus, Jake took her side without question, which made her feel better about herself. “He was my boss. A blond Adonis who could charm women—especially the naive ones like me—into believing he was the quintessence of Mr. Right. He took advantage of my willingness to share the workload and handle paperwork, which made him look good to his corporate clients. I thought all the attention he showered on me meant he felt the same way I did.”

“But…?” he prompted as he eased the sorrel up beside her.

“But he didn’t,” Moriah murmured. “Turns out he was bed hopping with three other women in the office. I was supplying him with all the spare time needed for his personal version of recreational pursuits. I realized that the only relationships I knew anything about, the only kinds I excelled at, were the ones built on someone else’s need and dependence on me. I know I’m shamefully inadequate as a serious marriage prospect.”

Jake glanced over at her and frowned. “How’d you arrive at that conclusion?”

Moriah shrugged. “Because it made sense. I was never really wanted for myself, only what I could provide in the way of help and assistance for others. In short, I grew up learning to be there for someone else.”

He snorted in disagreement. “You’re selling yourself short, Mo. Like I said, you’ve got the looks, brains and outgoing personality, despite those loud clothes.”

“Maybe so, but I always end up attracting people who depend on me for emotional and physical support. I’m like an ambulance to the rescue. My flashy clothes merely announce: Hey, here I am. What can I do for you today?”

Jake threw back his dark head and barked a laugh. It was a full rich sound that seemed to come from deep inside him. Fascinated, Moriah stared at him, watching his sensuous lips curve upward and his obsidian eyes sparkle with inner spirit. A warm, fuzzy sensation fluttered through her body when she realized she’d seen her first glimpse of the man trapped inside his rigid routine.

“You should do that more often, Jake. Laugher definitely becomes you.”

“Well, I haven’t had all that much to laugh about in a decade,” he admitted. “When I lost my parents things turned serious in a hurry.”

Moriah halted her horse to stare at the scenic view of the river, hoping Jake would experience the same sense of peace and tranquility that flooded over her. Apparently, he did. She noticed his grasp on the reins slackened and his gaze wandered admiringly across the river that glittered like mercury in the sunlight.

“I see you’ve managed to return the focus of the conversation back to me,” he said, sparing her a brief but perceptive glance.

“Yes, well, as recreational director it’s my job to urge guests to relax. Discussing the reasons for stress in your life makes you aware that you need to change your routines and habits. Whatever works, whenever it works, is my motto.”

“You’re shrewd, Mo,” he murmured. “This is kinda like a cattle drive from days gone by. Cowboys moseyed the livestock along the trail at such a leisurely pace the dumb creatures never realized they were being led to slaughter.”

Moriah wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I appreciate that comparison.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I wanted some wanna-be psychologist picking around in my brain and analyzing me six ways to Sunday, either. But hey, here I am, opening up to you when I had no intention of doing it.” He tossed her a quick grin. “That’s progress for you.”

“Minimal progress,” she qualified. “You were about to tell me what your life was like when you assumed responsibility for your kid sisters.”

“Was I?”

“Yes, you were. If I can spill my guts to you, then the very least you can do is return the favor.”

Jake nudged the sorrel in the flanks and clomped down the path. “I had two teenage sisters to raise, a fledgling business to run and a social butterfly of a fiancée who expected, and demanded, more attention than I could provide. She’s a blue-eyed blonde, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

“Ahh…” Moriah said insightfully. “That’s another reason why I kept getting vibes of resentment from you. You were transferring your frustration toward her to me.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he admitted. “But thankfully, you’re turning out to be nothing like her. Anyway, Shelly was jealous of my loyalty and devotion to my sisters. While I was trying to give my sisters special attention during a crucial time, Shelly found herself a sugar daddy who could provide the expensive gifts and fawning attention she thought she deserved, being the goddess she was and all.

“I walked in on her and lover-boy at her apartment one night when I wasn’t expected. By the time Shelly got through twisting the incident around, she made it sound like it was all my fault she looked elsewhere for affection and attention. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t too good at relationships that didn’t involve dependence from the party of the second part. The humiliating rejection stuck like a dart through the heart and deflated my male pride. Thankfully, I was smart enough not to make the mistake again. Besides, I had my sisters to raise and my business to run. I didn’t have time or the inclination for anything else.”

So he understood what it was like to be jilted and to have people depending on him. They had more in common than she first thought. “And since that time it’s been you and your sisters against the world, until they married.”

Jake nodded his raven-black head. “Pretty much. But at least Kim and Lisa turned out all right. My parents would be proud of them. My folks were devoted to each other and to us kids. It only seemed natural for me to follow the example of keeping the family united and strong.”

“But then, you got yourself stuck in a monotonous rut,” she commented gently. “It was your loyal and devoted sisters who came to your rescue.”

“They bound me over to you, the ungrateful little brats,” he muttered sourly. “Turncoats, is what they are. To think of all I’ve done for them!”

“They obviously care deeply or they wouldn’t have made these arrangements,” Moriah assured him.

“Yeah, so here I am, pussyfooting around at the resort, wondering if any work will get done at the shop during the next two weeks, pacing the floorboards with nothing to do but wait for you to show up and lecture me on the error of my robotlike ways.”

“But you’re making headway,” she encouraged him. “Twenty minutes ago you had a stranglehold on the reins. Now you’re relaxed. That’s progress. All we have to do is get you to let it all hang loose.”

“In this underwear? Are you kidding?”

Moriah snickered. “See there? You can even joke around and laugh at yourself. Yesterday that was an impossibility. You were too uptight and angry to do anything except bite my head off. Our next hurdle is to get you to do something impulsive, something totally unplanned, unexpected and off schedule.”

“Hey, I can be impulsive if I feel like it,” he said, affronted.

“Couldn’t prove it by me, Mr. Predictable,” she teased him. “When was the last time you hauled off and did something totally out of character?”

He frowned pensively.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”

“That’s your problem. You do too much thinking and planning and moving along according to routine,” she told him.

He swiveled his head around to focus directly on her. “You want impulsive, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Climb out of your rut for once in your life, Jake,” she encouraged him. “It’s okay to make time for yourself. Just go for it. Kick up your heels once in a while. Do something different. Do something impetuous, if only to prove to yourself that you can.”

“Fine. You want extemporaneous and impromptu? You’ve got it.”

He leaned over to snatch Moriah off the saddle and planted her on his lap—facing him, her legs straddling his hips. He bent his head and kissed her. It wasn’t just a playful little peck on the cheek, either. It was a hot, steamy, burn-off-your-lips kind of kiss that demanded a response—whether you meant to give one or not.

Moriah hadn’t planned on wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing up against him. She hadn’t meant to let him invade her mouth with a second plundering kiss that stole the breath clean out of her lungs. She didn’t expect him to clamp his hands around her rump and haul her against the hard evidence of his arousal. She didn’t expect to feel the blaze of desire frying her alive. But there they were, climbing all over each other on top of Ol’ Sally who didn’t so much as twitch her ears in objection.

The mare stood there docilely while Jake and Moriah got it on like a couple of hormone-plagued teenagers going at it in the back seat of a car. It was the damnedest thing Jake had ever experienced in his life. One minute Moriah was daring him to be impulsive, and poof! He dragged her to him and kissed her like a starving man devouring a feast. And worse, Jake couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste and scent of her. Every time he came up for air he found himself craving more. He stared at her kiss-swollen lips—and she stared at his—and they came together again like fire and dynamite.

That long dry spell must’ve caught up with him, because he was so hot and bothered in the time it took to blink that he felt the insane urge to peel off his clothes and follow this wild impulse to its natural conclusion.

The feel of her full breasts mashed against his chest, the feel of her parted thighs resting on his own drove him right out of his mind. Mercy! He didn’t need a caffeine zing when these sizzling sensations were bouncing through his veins like pinballs. Desire definitely had a stronger kick than coffee and chocolate combined.

His self-control hit the skids and his hands developed a will of their own. They mapped the full swells of her breasts, feeling her nipples harden against his prowling fingertips. Her nails raked over his back as he skimmed her ribs, measured the trim indentation of her waist and scanned the flare of her hips with his hands. Damn, she felt as if she were made to fit into his hands, fit against his aching male body.

Light-headed from panting for breath, Jake experienced the sensation that he was tumbling off balance. Too late, he realized he and Moriah truly were off balance. Ol’ Sally had decided to step down the steep incline to have herself a drink at the river. When she lowered her head to slurp water Moriah and Jake were left with nothing to hold on to except each other. They somersaulted pell-mell over Sally’s downcast neck and landed with a splat—their arms and legs tangled up worse than a pretzel.

Jake floundered upright, after swallowing a couple of gallons of water. He burst to the surface like a spouting whale, then glanced wildly around, trying to locate Moriah. She surfaced three feet away from him. Her long hair was plastered against the sides of her head and her eyes were as wide as serving platters. Sputtering, she struggled to catch her breath.

Gape-mouthed, she stared at him and he stared back, his jaw sagging on its hinges. She appeared astounded—as he was—by kisses and caresses that carried the impact of a nuclear blast.

He should say something, but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth and his waterlogged brain had short-circuited. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Moriah. Anger and indignation, probably. After all, he hadn’t exactly asked permission to kiss her breathless and put his hands all over her. Jeez, he couldn’t believe he’d done that! What the hell happened to his sense of decency?

“Hey, you said do something impulsive,” he said before she could jump down his throat. “Besides, your flower garden ensemble needed watering.”

Boy, that was totally lame, he thought with an inward groan. He expected her to rear back and slap him—it was what he deserved. Or at the very least, chew him out royally. Most women he knew would’ve been furious about getting their hair and makeup ruined by a dunking in the river.

“Well,” she said eventually, “I did ask for impulsive, but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Next time I’ll be more specific.”

When Moriah took an impromptu swim he decided to join her. For sure, he needed to cool his heels—and other parts of his body that had overheated. He wondered if she was suffering the same need to cool off and put some time and emotional distance between that explosive kiss that they had just experienced.

Jake was more than a little relieved that Moriah chose to pretend the kiss didn’t happen, because that was fine by him. She piled on her horse and started yakkety-yakking about ways to reduce stress so his life would become more well-rounded and personally fulfilling. Jake tried to pay attention, he really did, but the way her wet clothes clung to her voluptuous body like a coat of paint was one hell of a distraction.

MORIAH PULLED the cake from the oven, set it aside to cool, and then rifled through her cabinets for vanilla and a sack of powdered sugar. She had decided to make Jake’s birthday an event that would bring her guests and staff together for a party in the lobby. The occasion would serve two purposes—celebrating Jake’s birthday in a casual setting and creating time for informal conversation. There were no power lunches or business conferences at Triple R, and Moriah wanted her guests to function in laid-back settings. They needed to carry on conversations unrelated to business. One of their biggest problems was learning to broaden their focus of interests.

Plus, this shindig would ensure Moriah wouldn’t be alone with Jake. Having discovered how wildly responsive she was to him had thrown her for a loop. After that scorching kiss, she’d needed a swim to get herself in hand. She’d told herself not to get involved with Jake. Yet, she’d stepped over the line—did a hundred-yard dash over it was more accurate! But damn, that man knew how to kiss and leave a woman burning—inside and out!

Moriah told herself to calm down when she realized she was whipping the icing so frantically that she nearly beat the finish off the bowl. She was tense and she almost never got tense because she practiced breathing exercises and relaxation techniques. Yet, here she was, reliving that incredibly amazing kiss and wishing for more of the same. What was she thinking!

“Relax,” she told herself sternly. “Focus.”

“Pardon?”

Moriah had been so distracted that she forgot she’d brought her dad over to her apartment for a private visit. He’d been making some electronic adjustments to his motorized cart and watching TV while she whipped up the cake.

“Nothing, Dad. Just talking to myself.” She glanced over at her silver-haired father to note he was fumbling with the remote control. Her first impulse was to dash over to help him, but she stayed where she was. William Randell was learning to work around the partial paralysis in his left side and was determined to be as independent as possible.

“Whose birthday did you say we’re celebrating tonight?” Will asked.

“Jake Prescott’s.”

“The new guy,” he said with a pensive nod. “The one who put up the big fuss about being here. Is he doing better?”

“Uh…yeah. I saw him and his pup canoeing down the river this afternoon. I think he’s settling in.”

“Anna said another guest arrived a couple of hours ago to replace the guest in cabin two. From Saint Louis, right?”

“Right.” Moriah washed the powdered sugar off her hands, then plunked down on the sofa. “Very demanding sort of individual.”

“Gonna be trouble?”

“Probably. He’s expecting an instant fix to stressful habits he’s spent a lifetime developing.”

“If anybody can teach him to relax and unwind, you can, hon,” he said confidently.

Moriah leaned over to give her dad a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

His hand folded over hers and she swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. For years they’d passed by each other like ships in the night without really knowing each other. Her dad had been a guest in his own home and Moriah never felt as if she understood him until he was forced into retirement and required her care.

It had taken Will a year to adjust to his limited lifestyle, but now he spent his time modifying and creating electronic gadgets, whizzing around the resort on his cart and relaxing. Even better, she and Will had grown close these past three years.

“Did I ever tell you how grateful I am to have a daughter like you?” he murmured appreciatively.

She leaned over to give him an affectionate hug. “Did I ever tell you how grateful I am to have you?”

He patted her shoulder. “Thanks, honey. Don’t know where I’d be without you.” He inclined his gray head toward the kitchenette. “Better finish up that cake before I get all blubbery on you. It’ll ruin the hard-ass image I maintained in the business world.” He tapped the remote against the armrest of his cart. “Damn gadget won’t work right. What idiot tinkered with the design of these things anyway?”

Moriah chuckled as she bounded to her feet. “I do believe it was some of your technology that pioneered those gadgets. You were an electronic wizard in your day.”

His eyes twinkled and he smiled, though the muscles in the left side of his cheek drooped noticeably. “I was, wasn’t I?”

“Damn straight, Dad.”

While Will turned his attention to the new remote he’d designed to control all the lights in Moriah’s apartment, she iced the cake—and cursed herself soundly when her thoughts circled back to Jake. She couldn’t keep avoiding him. She’d left a rose on his doorstep this morning and asked Tom Stevens to deliver the glass of wine the previous night. It wasn’t like her to dodge awkward situations. She usually laughed and smiled her way through them.

Unfortunately, the tactic didn’t work quite as well with Jake. She was entirely too aware of him, too attracted to him, too embarrassed that she’d climbed all over him and groped at him while they’d kissed each other breathless. Sweet mercy! That was totally out of character for her. She didn’t do stuff like that—until Jake came along.

Moriah sighed in frustration, wondering what had gotten into her. She’d never reacted to a man like that before. She had to keep her distance and clear the air—sexually charged though it most definitely was—between them. Tomorrow she’d have a nonchalant visit with Jake, she decided as she slathered vanilla icing on the strawberry cake. They’d get past that impulsive kiss and things would be back on an even keel—she hoped.

JAKE PACED the floorboards, then checked his watch for the umpteenth time in two hours. This place was driving him straight south to crazyville! He’d had nothing to do all day and he’d had all day to do it. Sure, he’d checked out a canoe and paddled Spitwad on the river for an hour, and then he’d hiked up the hillside path to visually pan the plush valley below. Still, he felt edgy, restless and twitchy. He needed a computer mouse under his fingertips and a monitor screen to stare at. He needed to work to keep his mind off Moriah who’d been avoiding him since that sizzling kiss that made him uncomfortable in all the wrong places.

He needed to apologize—if he could manage to get her alone for more than five seconds. She’d breezed by once or twice, flashing that cheery smile, on her way to visit other guests, but she’d taken a noticeably wide berth around Jake.

He checked his watch again, then glanced down to see Spitwad sprawled on the floor, sound asleep. Speaking of sleep, Jake couldn’t believe he’d slept until eight o’clock this morning. Ordinarily, he was up and at ’em by six. He was pretty sure Moriah had added a sedative to the wine she had Tom deliver the previous evening. Surely his internal time clock and razor-sharp business edge hadn’t deserted him on their own accord. There had to be a reason—like sleeping potions and tranquilizers and such, he decided suspiciously.

Whirling around, Jake headed for the door. He was going to find Moriah and get things squared away. She needed to know there’d be no more kissing, that he’d keep his hands to himself. She wouldn’t have to feel wary or uncomfortable around him because he wasn’t going to touch her again—ever.

Jake strode swiftly toward the lodge that was lit up like a Christmas tree in the darkness. He’d probably have to chitchat with the other guests a while before he managed to draw Moriah aside. He’d get the apology over with and then hightail it back to his cabin to play tug-of-war with Spitwad. The mutt had already chewed a hole in one of Jake’s socks, so he’d tied the demolished sock in a knot and whiled away his time with the pesky pup. Amazing what lengths a guy would go to when he had to entertain himself—or risk going insane from boredom. In two weeks he’d probably be nuttier than a jar of Jif.

Jake was fifty feet from the lodge when Moriah appeared on the porch. The golden glow spotlighted and accentuated her eye-catching physique. She was wearing a jungle-print ensemble that featured zebras, tigers, colorful parrots and frothy ferns. Her blond hair was piled loosely atop her head by some invisible means of support he couldn’t figure out. Damn, but he’d like to unwind that silky mass of hair and run his fingers through it, then pull her lush body against—

Jake gnashed his teeth and cursed himself soundly. Damn it, he had to get past this physical attraction and he better do it fast.

“Hi, Jake,” Moriah called out, waving her arms like a cheerleader on the sidelines. “I was on my way over to see you.”

“Yeah? What for?” Did he sound casual enough? Too snippy and uptight? He tried for a neutral tone that disguised his frustration. “So, what’s up, Mo?”

“There’s something I want to show you.” She gestured for him to follow her into the lodge. “Come on inside and have a look.”

5

JAKE HALTED in his tracks when he walked into the lobby to see nine guests, four staff members and Will Randell gathered around the dining table where a cake waited with his name printed on it in red icing. His mouth dropped open wide enough for a pheasant to roost.

“Happy birthday, Jake,” the group said in unison.

Everyone had a beaming smile on his face, except the newcomer who seemed to think he was too good for a party where he wasn’t the center of attention. Jake inwardly winced, wondering if he’d given the same offensive impression when he arrived, demanding to be released so he could go home where he belonged. He felt the need to apologize to the entire staff for being troublesome.

“Thanks,” Jake murmured humbly. “Who made the cake?”

When he glanced at Anna Jefferies, she hitched her thumb toward Moriah. “Don’t look at me. She’s the one who took time out to bake.”

Jake focused his attention on Moriah, but her smiling gaze was directed over his left shoulder, avoiding eye contact. Yep, he’d blown the companionable camaraderie he’d enjoyed the previous morning before he kissed her lips off and practically climbed all over her on the back of Ol’ Sally. Sheesh! What was the matter with him? He must be cracking up.

“Have a seat, everyone, and I’ll dish up the ice cream,” Moriah said cheerily.

“So, Jake what’s the age count?” the burly Tom Stevens asked as he sank down at the table and made room for Will Randell’s motorized cart.

“Thirty-six.”

“Well, aren’t you the spring chicken around here,” Joe Higdon, the frizzy-haired guest from cabin six, said with a snicker. “Took me until age sixty-one to realize I was a fanatic workaholic in need of relaxation.”

Several other guests nodded their heads—which were in various states of balding.

“Do yourself a favor, Jake m’boy,” Will Randell remarked as he grabbed a glass of decaffeinated tea. “Learn to take life a little easier now so you don’t end up like me. Now I’m trying to make each day count and have some fun along the way.”

“No, kidding, kid,” Eugene Morris, the guest from cabin eight, chimed in. “I had to have myself a heart attack before I realized I was pressing too hard. Scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Yeah, well, try hyperventilating and collapsing at the podium while giving a speech at a corporate board meeting,” Harold Pinkly, the guest from cabin nine, spoke up. “That will open your eyes in a hurry.”

While Jake parked himself at the head of the table—being the guest of honor that he was—he heard testimonials from everyone except the sour-faced gent who made it apparent that he was a little too good to be bonding with a bunch of corporate-whiz has-beens.

While Jake devoured the moist, delicious strawberry cake and ice cream, he formed closer acquaintances with the men. He was surprised that Moriah’s guests hailed from all parts of the country. Obviously her resort’s reputation was known far and wide, because Joe was from Dallas, Harold from Omaha and Eugene from Detroit.

Immediately, the cogs in Jake’s brain started cranking. He could create an incredible Web site to promote Moriah’s resort, one with enticing scenic pictures, peaceful music and all the necessary blurbs to advertise her myriad of recreational activities. Add to that a few testimonials praising positive results, a couple of tips for relaxation, and Moriah would have stressed-out businessmen clambering to her cabins in the panoramic valley.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to skip the fun and games and have a look at my cabin,” Robert Fullerton demanded as he stared down his nose at Moriah. “I’ve had a long drive from Saint Louis, after all.”

“Sure thing.” Moriah vaulted from her chair, her cheerful smile intact. “I’ll show you to the cabin.”

Jake was unprepared for his agitated reaction to Fullerton’s snippy attitude toward Moriah. It was fine for him to fling barbs at her, but let someone else come down hard on her and it ticked Jake off royally. Jeez, he had no right to feel possessive or protective. He’d only been here a couple of days and kissed her once. He didn’t have any rights whatsoever…but that didn’t stop him from feeling the urge to put in his two cents’ worth. With great effort he kept his trap shut and ate his birthday cake.

When the party crowd migrated to the living area to watch Will demonstrate his new electronic gadget that controlled the lights and catch the evening news, weather and sports, Jake took a long hard look at the other guests. It dawned on him—hit him like a lightning bolt, actually—that he was staring into his own bleak future when he gazed at these older men who’d worked themselves into anxiety attacks, heart seizures and strokes. He could be back here in twenty years, learning to take a more laid-back approach to life.

Jeez, Louise! He might become a burden to his sisters who, by then, would have children of their own and additional family expenses. He’d be the shriveled up, burned-out uncle stuffed in the corner and his nieces and nephews would have to veer around him on their way out the door to enjoy life. He’d probably have to be spoon-fed meals because carpal tunnel syndrome would cause his hands and wrists to function improperly.

Damn, he needed to chill out a little, he decided. He needed to find a hobby that he enjoyed and work it into his business routine…. He needed to take some time to stop and smell the roses….

The epiphany made him bolt upright and take another look around the room at the older men who were drumming their fingers on the armrests of their chairs, tapping their feet, twitching nervously and squirming restlessly in their seats. Holy cow! He realized his fingers were clenched around his glass of iced tea and he was tapping his foot. He forced himself to relax and unwind.

Okay, so maybe he was wound up tighter than a spring. He could fix that if he stayed the full two weeks and dedicated his time to recreational activity. Just because he made a pact with himself, there and then, to take his life at a less hectic pace didn’t mean he had to give up his devotion to his sisters and their new husbands. He could fulfill his professional responsibilities and keep a close family bond and still drop what he was doing when his sisters needed him. That would never change. Kim and Lisa would always be top priority because he’d made a commitment—financially and emotionally—to be there for them when needed. But he sure as hell didn’t want his sisters and brothers-in-law to have to care for him when he stumbled over the edge because he worked himself into an early collapse! After all, he was only good at relationships where others were dependent on him, same as Moriah was. He couldn’t function as the dependent in a relationship. It would feel too unnatural.

Jake surged from his chair and strode purposely toward Tom Stevens who was lounging in the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Tom, I’d like a massage, first thing in the morning. Can you work me in?”

Tom glanced up, his unibrow soaring up to his hair-line. “No kidding? Good for you, Jake. Sure thing. How about right after breakfast?”

Jake nodded. “I’m there.”

After Tom gave him two thumbs-up and flashed a toothy grin, Jake wheeled toward Kent, the bowlegged wrangler in charge of the stables and livestock. “Sign me up for a ride after my massage,” he requested. “And don’t put me on Ol’ Sally again. I want a horse with enough stamina and spirit to hold up for a two-hour ride.”

Kent chuckled at Jake’s newfound enthusiasm for recreation. “You bet, pardner. Want some company or is this a solo ride?”

“Solo,” Jake requested. “I plan to absorb the scenic countryside and do some in-depth personal meditation, if you don’t mind.”

Kent shrugged. “Sure, whatever you need, Jake. I used to do some serious meditation after one of those crazed rodeo bulls launched me through the air, then tried to trample me when I hit the dirt. That’s why I’m here instead of ridin’ the suicide circuit. I woke up in the hospital one day with my ribs busted and my knee twisted from its socket. I realized there had to be an easier way to make a livin’.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom agreed as he massaged his bulky shoulder. “I used to be an offensive tackle for the Dallas Cowboys until a bruiser, who was bigger and meaner, laid me out and knocked me unconscious. He also separated me from a few teeth. I decided I was getting too old and brittle to butt heads and fly all over the country, living out of a suitcase.”

“Same for me,” Chester Gray commented as he twisted in his chair to glance up at Jake. “I attacked the pro golf tour like a maniac for years. Got to where I couldn’t remember where I called home and booze was my most reliable companion.” He shook his sandy head and smiled ruefully. “Thanks to Moriah, I’m doing what I love and helping other folks take up the game of golf for pleasure and relaxation. Nothing makes me happier than giving a few pointers and then seeing one of the guests drive the ball down the fairway, after they’d whiffed it a few times without my help.”

Jake didn’t know where Moriah had found this motley group, but obviously she was a decent judge of character when it came to handpicking her staff. No doubt, she’d taken them under wing and worked her recreational magic on them as well. He suspected these relationships she had developed with her staff had originated from need and dependence and progressed to friendship and loyalty. Everyone around here seemed to think Moriah hung the moon and made the sun shine.

Well, Jake fully intended to take advantage of this resort, now that his eyes were open and his head was on straight. Yessiree, he’d have hobbies galore when he returned to his world. His sisters would stop fretting over him, because he’d no longer be Mr. Predictable who was stuck in a rut. He’d be Mr. All-Around from here on out.

Resolved to making life-altering changes in his behavior, Jake hiked off to tend to his first order of business—apologizing to Moriah. His attraction to her was going to be at the bottom of his list of things to do at the resort, he promised himself. He’d view her only as a recreational director and friend. No more getting sidetracked by her enchanting face and tantalizing figure wrapped in those outrageous and wildly colorful clothes. He’d divert his interest and attention to one hobby after another. Hell, he’d be Mr. Hobby. No more fierce intensity and one-track business mind for him. He was a changed man!

Jake was jostled from his thoughts by a feminine squawk that came from the area near cabin two. He sprinted through the darkness, dodging trees, to determine what had happened. He skidded to a halt and gnashed his teeth when he saw two silhouettes wrestling with one another.

“Hey! What’s going on here!” he boomed.

Jake’s arrival allowed Moriah to shove Robert Fullerton back into his own space. The man had followed her outside for his version of slap and tickle, after she’d managed to dodge his advances in the cabin. Damn, this jerk had a lot to learn about backing off and calming down.

Oh sure, some guests flirted with her from time to time and she had her own way of sidestepping unwanted advances. Robert, however, didn’t respond as readily to the lack of interest she paid to his suggestive innuendoes. If the domineering chump didn’t back off she’d send Tom over to have a man-to-man talk with him. Tom had been called in a couple of times the past five years—usually with miraculous results.

“Buzz off, pal,” Robert scowled when Jake advanced on him. “Sorry, birthday boy, but you’ll have to wait your turn. Moriah and I are getting acquainted right now—Whoa! Calm down, man!”

Moriah gasped in surprise when Jake clenched his fists in the front of Robert’s dress shirt and jerked him clean off the ground. “That isn’t necessary,” she assured him, trying to step between the two men.

“Yeah, it is,” Jake contradicted in a growl, never taking his eyes off the fifty-eight-year-old businessman. “Listen up, Bobby-boy, you behave yourself around Ms. Randell or I’ll be all over you like a bad rash. Are we clear on that?”

Robert shoved himself away and made a big production of smoothing the wrinkles from his silk shirt. “Look, bozo, I happen to be very influential in—”

“I don’t give a flying f—ig where your influence lies in the world outside Triple R,” Jake snapped brusquely. “Around here, you’re a guest and Ms. Randell is your recreational director. You treat her with the courtesy and respect she deserves. Starting now. Apologize.”

Robert’s square chin shot up defiantly. “No, she was stringing me along.”

Moriah opened her mouth to deny the preposterous claim, but Jake beat her to the punch.

“No, she didn’t,” he snarled ferociously. “Apologize!”

When Robert stubbornly refused, Jake pounced like a cheetah to twist the older man’s arm up the middle of his back.

“Ouch, you son of a—”

“Now!” Jake growled down the man’s neck.

“Fine…Ow!…I’m sorry,” Robert yelped.

Jake pushed him away, as if he found physical contact offensive. Moriah knew that feeling exceptionally well. She’d shivered with repulsion when Robert tried to slobber all over her. She had the unmistakable feeling Robert considered himself a regular ladies’ man. No doubt, Robert used his power of position to hit on women in the workplace—and anywhere else he could make a pass.

“Now, beat it, Full-of-Yourself,” Jake demanded.

“The name is Fullerton,” Robert said hatefully.

“I think you and I need to take a long ride up the mountain in the morning,” Jake insisted.

“Be careful you don’t knock him off the mountain-top,” Moriah advised, lips twitching.

Jake grinned wickedly. “Not to worry, Ms. Randell. I’ll make it look like an accident.”

Robert turned tail and scampered, lickety-split, into his cabin. Jake waited until the door slammed shut before he pivoted toward Moriah. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your apartment.”

“That’s okay. I know the way,” she said, uncertain if she wanted his company at the moment. She wasn’t sure she had a secure grip on her emotions. Watching him rise to her defense like her personal knight in shining armor made too great an impact on her. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone standing up for her unless she specifically requested help—and that was always her last resort. Independent though she was, she kinda liked the way Jake defended her honor and discouraged future offenses.

Moriah told herself not to get used to the gratifying feelings that flooded through her, because Jake wouldn’t be around long. He was one of her guests and that was the extent of their short-term relationship, she reminded herself for about the fiftieth time.

He took her arm and steered her toward the lodge. “I’m walking you back so I can apologize all over myself for being an ass when I got here and for…um…that kiss yesterday.”

Moriah missed a step, then hurried to keep up with his long, swift strides. “That’s okay, Jake. I know you didn’t come here of your own free will. As for the other incident, I challenged you and you simply proved to me that you could be a little reckless and impulsive.”

“Apparently, I can be too reckless and impulsive where you’re concerned,” he grumbled. “That’s not a good thing. But I plan to be on my best behavior from here on out and change my rigid lifestyle.”

Moriah pulled up short and peered into his shadowed face. “It sounds as if you’ve been doing some soul-searching.”

“I have,” he confirmed with a decisive nod. “My inner self and I had a chat and we’ve decided I need to change my habits and lose the overly structured routine. I’m going to develop a hobby that’s unrelated to work.”

“That’s wonderful!” she enthused.

He tugged her alongside him. “In a week you won’t recognize me as Mr. Predictable.”

“Good. Your sisters will be enormously pleased.”

“They’ll get their money’s worth,” he promised as he circled around to the back of the lodge. “Now, about Bobby-boy. If he tries to give you any lip—verbal or physical—you let me know and I’ll straighten him out again.”

Moriah chuckled at his vehement tone. “That won’t be necessary. Tom usually handles incidents like this when I ask him to.”

Jake’s brows jackknifed. “This happens on a regular basis?”

“No, only a couple times when corporate-executive Don Juans think I should be part of their recreational activities.” Moriah sailed past him to climb the wooden deck that led to her apartment. “Well, thanks for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.”

She glanced back to see him standing there with his hands stuffed in the hip pockets of his jeans, his gaze intense. A shiver—born of a source she refused to acknowledge—rippled through her body. She had the impulsive urge to hug the stuffing out of him for coming to her rescue and gallantly walking her home. But she knew she couldn’t stop with an appreciative hug. It was becoming alarmingly evident that her feminine body threw off sparks when she got within ten feet of him—which was good reason to keep her distance. Something deep inside her called out to him, needing and wanting things—like desire and passion and romance—that had been missing in her life.

Gad, she was being ridiculous! She didn’t need those things to make her happy. Her life was rewarding and fulfilling, just the way it was. Stiffening her resolve, Moriah reminded herself that she intended to have a talk with Jake, too, so they could return to solid footing.

“Come in a minute,” she invited as she pushed open the door.

“No, I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” he mumbled.

Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why not?”

He shifted restlessly from one booted foot to the other, then stared up at the moon, as if it suddenly demanded his undivided attention. “Because, for all my good intentions, I’m still attracted to you. Seeing Bobby paw at you made me feel too protective, territorial and possessive, even when I felt like a damn hypocrite for practically giving you a tonsillectomy…and the other stuff…yesterday morning.”

Moriah felt herself moving instinctively toward him, even when that warning voice inside her head yelled, Keep your distance! You know these kinds of relationships can get tangled up if you let them. Besides, you don’t know squat about interactions and social dynamics between a man and woman. You flunked Romance 101, remember?

She also reminded herself that men occasionally mistook affection for gratitude when she coaxed them into kicking back, relaxing and developing hobbies. Usually, the affection was more along the lines of substitute daughter to father, which included friendly hugs and such. But Jake was only six years older and she was definitely attracted to him—now there was an under-statement if she’d ever heard one! The look, feel and scent of him played havoc with her senses, though she tried to maintain physical and emotional distance. Everything about him was different. She felt different when she was with him.

When Moriah halted directly in front of Jake and stared into his shadowed face, she knew her resolve had failed her completely. Before she could even think to stop herself she pushed up on tiptoe and kissed him, right smack-dab on the lips. And wham! Desire hit her like a grand slam, emptying the bases of her self-control. Jake clamped his arms around her and his lips came down hard on hers. Need roared in her ears while she kissed him for all she was worth.

Moriah couldn’t fault him for brushing his hands all over her, leaving her achy and breathless, because she had her hands all over him, too. She arched against the evidence of his arousal, pressed her tingling breasts against his muscled chest and lost the ability to think, only to feel and enjoy.

“Aw, jeez,” Jake said roughly against her lips. “Here we go again….”

And then he kissed her so ravenously, so thoroughly, she feared her legs would buckle beneath her. Every erogenous zone on her body was pulsating with intense need and the sizzle in his touch nearly electrocuted her. She groaned in frustrated desire when Jake nudged her feet apart and ground his hard flesh into the cradle of her thighs. Moriah clung to him, moving instinctively against him, baffled by her wild abandon, craving more of the delicious sensations pounding through her.

“Damn it to hell!” Jake suddenly stepped away and Moriah staggered for balance, wondering why desire hit her so hard so fast and launched her self-restraint into orbit around the planet Pluto. How could this keep happening? Why was it happening?

Jake raked his hand through his thick raven hair and blew a ragged breath. “I’m not sure these impulsive actions you advocate are good things for me. I came to apologize for kissing you the first time and the kicker is that all I could think about was kissing you again. Now look what’s happened. I’m so screwed up I can’t control or trust myself around you!”

“I started this,” Moriah reminded him unsteadily. “You don’t deserve the blame for what just happened. I asked for it.”

“Yeah,” he said, then gave a self-deprecating snort. “And I delivered. I’m sorry, Moriah. G’night.”

Moriah watched him disappear around the corner and then cursed herself soundly. She’d known Jake Prescott was going to be trouble—a dozen different kinds of trouble—an hour after she met him. Sure ’nuff.

Moriah staggered up the steps, closed the door and stood there staring at her empty apartment. The silence in there was deafening. Needs she’d spent years ignoring were exploding through her body like popcorn. She was magnetically drawn to Jake, hypnotized by those intense chocolate eyes, mesmerized by the needy desire he ignited in her. She couldn’t even begin to describe or categorize the sensations that bombarded her when he kissed her and caressed her. Damn, she must’ve been a harlot in a previous life, because she’d wanted to rip off his shirt and get her hands all over that sleek muscled flesh she’d seen the first night when she’d accidentally walked in on Jake while he was practically naked.

Moriah gulped when she realized her body was still sizzling and her heart was thumping like a nail gun. She remembered, with vivid clarity, how it felt to be wrapped in Jake’s powerful arms, their bodies meshed intimately together, his hands skimming over her feminine contours, her hands exploring his masculine body.

This was not good! This was insane! She barely knew the man, yet she wanted to take their relationship to a deeply intimate level and she never felt that obsessive need hammering at her before.

Good grief, did some latent feminine hormone kick in at age thirty to cause a woman to freak out, despite the good sense she’d cultivated for three decades? For heaven’s sake, she knew she was lousy at romantic relationships. She didn’t know diddly about attracting and holding a man’s attention. For all her extensive education she had some serious deficiencies when it came to relating to a man her own age.

Senior citizens she could handle, no sweat. Jake made her sweat—and that was the least of her reactions to him!

Ordinarily, she kept things lighthearted and casual with her guests. She could joke around with the best of them. But with Jake—

“But nothing. Go make your rounds, then go to bed, Mo,” she ordered herself sharply. “Just because this is Jake’s birthday, you didn’t have to kiss his lips off this evening. You baked his cake. That should’ve been good enough!”

Moriah blew out her breath, then lurched around to return to the lodge. She had warm milk and wine to deliver to her guests. She may have the hots for Jake, but it would pass when he returned to his world and she welcomed another guest to take his place.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into the reason why she was anxious for time to whiz by at supersonic speed. She suspected it had something to do with the fear of developing heart trouble. She had to take the necessary precautions to ensure she didn’t contract the dangerous ailment.

MORIAH FROWNED when she returned from hiking with one of her guests to see Tom, Kent and Chester motioning her to an isolated spot beneath a sprawling shade tree. “Something wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah, ’fraid so,” Kent mumbled as he swept off his Resistol hat and raked his fingers through his smashed hair. “It’s about Jake.”

Moriah stared at the men in alarm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, for the past week he’s attacked every leisure sport on the premises,” Chester Gray reported, lips twitching. “He got all huffy the first time he showed up to play golf and I told him we didn’t set pars for the course and we didn’t allow scorecards because it makes the game competitive and we don’t encourage competition at Triple R. He played twenty-seven holes of golf, nonstop. He wouldn’t have quit then, but his golf cart ran out of charge and I had to tow him to the shed. It’s the same drill each time he arrives at the course to play a round.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.