“I suppose being spoiled by a man is nice,” Mellie said.

She held Case’s probing stare. “But most women I know want to take care of themselves.”

For the first time, she saw a shadow of cynicism on his face.

Mellie stood abruptly, feeling out of her depth and alarmingly sympathetic toward the man who’d been born and reared with every possible advantage. “I really do have to get busy.”

Case unfolded that long, lean body and joined her at the dishwasher, his hands brushing hers as he put his plate alongside her cup. “Is your boss such a slave driver?” he muttered.

They were almost in an embrace, the counter at her back and one big, contrary cowboy planted in front of her. “I’m the boss, Case. And I don’t need to be spoiled. If I want to fly to Paris this weekend, I’ll buy my own damned ticket.”

His gaze settled on her lips. For one heart-thumping second she knew he was going to kiss her. “You just told me I’m not your boss. We’re here as equals, Mellie. So I guess whatever happens, happens.”

* * *

Courting the Cowboy Boss is part of the Texas Cattleman’s Club: Lies and Lullabies series—Baby secrets and a scheming sheikh rock Royal, Texas!

Courting the Cowboy Boss

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Copyright

USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD knew she loved books and writing by the time she was eight years old. But it took multiple rejections and many years of trying before she sold her first three novels. After teaching kindergarten and second grade for a number of years, Janice turned in her lesson plan book and began writing full-time. Since then she has sold over thirty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling and spending time with family.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! You can connect with Janice at twitter.com/janicemaynard, facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage, wattpad.com/user/janicemaynard and instagram.com/janicemaynard.

For Jamie and Daniel, who have made Texas their home … we miss you in Tennessee!

One

“To our new president!”

Three of the four men at the table lifted their glasses in a semicongratulatory toast. Case Baxter, the object of their wry tribute, shook his head and grinned. “Thanks, guys. You’re all heart.”

Mac McCallum finished off the last bite of his Angus burger and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “Seriously, man. What were you thinking? You’re like all the rest of us...up to your ears in work. Adding president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club to your résumé means more headaches.”

Mac was CEO of McCallum Energy...and understood as much as anybody that success was a double-edged sword. Even so, with his big laugh and extrovert ways, he always seemed laid-back and easygoing.

Though the formal dining room at the Texas Cattleman’s Club was an elegant venue, the majority of the diners were men like Mac and Case. Tough, honed by physical labor, perpetually tanned by the hot Texas sun. And wealthy...wealthy enough to think they had the world on a string.

Case shrugged. “I know what you’re saying. And you’re right. But when the committee asked to put my name on the ballot, I could hear my great-grandfather cheering from the grave. It’s an honor. And a privilege.”

His companions hooted with laughter. Jeff Hartley wiped his eyes. “Of course it is. No denying that. But unless you have some magic formula for adding an extra eight or ten hours to every day, I’m not exactly sure how you’re going to manage.” Jeff owned and operated the Hartley Cattle Ranch. He knew more than a little about hard work and long days.

Case had an ominous feeling in his gut that said his buddies were right. The truth was, though, Case’s family had lived in Royal for generations. They believed in tradition, honor and service. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no to the nomination. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be elected. The other two candidates were older and, as far as Case was concerned, more suited for the position.

But now it was too late for second thoughts. “I’m counting on the three of you to be my unofficial advisors.”

Parker Reese leaned back in his chair. “Don’t look at me. I’m a doctor, not a rancher. I can get your baby through colic, but all I know about cattle is not to wave a red flag in front of a bull.”

In the general laughter that followed, Case spared a moment to marvel at how things had changed. Not long ago, women had finally been admitted into the hallowed halls of the club as full members.

Times, they were a-changin’...

Case looked at Mac with a lifted brow. “I thought Logan was joining us for lunch.” Logan Wade was Mac’s best friend and one of his key investors.

“He bought three new horses last week,” Mac said, “and they’re being delivered today. You know how he is.”

They all nodded. Horses and women. Logan’s two favorite things.

Mac pinned Case with a knowing gaze. “Quit changing the subject. We were talking about you and your soon-to-be-impossible schedule.”

“Gil Addison has a son and a wife,” Case pointed out. “And he’s been a great president. I’m blissfully single.”

“True,” Mac said. “You’re forgetting, however, that Gil is Superman. No offense, buddy, but those are big shoes to fill.”

“Your support is duly noted.”

Parker, arguably the smartest man in the room, added his two cents’ worth. “You’ve always liked a challenge, Case. Don’t let them mess with your head. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks.” Case had enormous respect for the dedicated though reserved neonatal specialist. Royal’s hospital was lucky to have a doctor of Parker’s caliber on staff.

Jeff chimed in, mischief written all over his face. “Parker has more faith in you than I do. I’ve been in your house, Case. It’s such a mess you can’t even find the TV remote half the time. I’d suggest burning your place to the ground if we weren’t in the middle of a drought.”

Case’s neck heated. Organization was not his strong suit. Another fact that called his ability to perform his newly acquired duties into question.

“I’ve already thought about that,” he said. “And I have a plan.”

Mac gave their waitress a smile as she brought their desserts. “Do tell.”

Case stuck a fork in his apple cobbler. “I’m going to hire a housekeeper.”

The other three men stared at him.

Mac lifted his spoonful of ice cream and waved it in the air. “You do know she would have to come inside your house for that to work?”

“Very funny.” Case squared his shoulders. “I have the Texas Cattleman’s Club to run now. I have to make compromises.”

Jeff still seemed shocked. “But what about your rule number one? Never allow a female into the man cave.”

“Unless she’s a relative.” Parker supplied the exception. “Is this new housekeeper a relative?”

Case deserved the inquisition. He was known for his only-half-joking rules for dealing with the female sex. When he was involved in intimate relationships, he preferred to spend the night at the woman’s home. So he could leave when he wanted to. “I made the rules,” he said, his chin thrust out. “And I can change them. This woman will be a stranger...an employee. She won’t be a relative, but she might as well be. I’m not hiring a woman—I’m hiring a housekeeper.”

He gave them a warning scowl. “I’ve learned from my mistakes, believe me.” The men at the table knew the unsavory details of Case’s not-so-happy marriage. He’d had a fling with his family’s accountant, married her and soon found out that she was more interested in spending Case’s money than in being a loving wife. It was a salutary lesson.

Jeff turned down a second beer but took a long swig of his water. “Hey, man. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. And besides, up until the tornado last year, this club-president gig wasn’t all that onerous. You’ll be fine.”

Everyone nodded, but Case saw his own reservations reflected on their faces. Ever since the F4 tornado that had decimated Maverick County and the town of Royal barely over a year ago, the Texas Cattleman’s Club had become one of the anchors that held things together.

Coordinating rescue efforts, keeping up morale, applying for grants, planning reconstruction and renovation—the club and its president had served the people of Royal well. Life was mostly back to normal, but there was still work to be done. So Case couldn’t kid himself into thinking that his new job title was ceremonial only.

Jeff interrupted the momentary silence. “If we’re finished raking Case over the coals, I have a serious subject to bring up. Shouldn’t we be worried about all the ranches and other parcels of land that have been sold in Royal lately? And almost all of it to a single buyer? Does anybody but me think it’s a little odd?”

Mac shrugged. “I’m not really concerned. A number of people were demoralized by the storm or too strapped for cash to rebuild. It sounds like they’re getting good offers and the chance to start over somewhere else.”

Parker’s brow furrowed. “I hadn’t heard about this.”

Case nodded. “Nolan Dane is back in town and is representing a company called Samson Oil in these acquisitions. It doesn’t make sense to me, though. Why would an oil company be interested in the land? The tracts he’s buying up were checked for oil decades ago.” Nolan was raised in Royal, but had been gone for a long time.

“Maybe they’re planning to use some of the newer technology and hoping to get lucky,” Mac said.

Jeff shook his head. “Nolan seems like a decent guy, but I’m not a big fan of lawyers, particularly when someone else is hiding behind that lawyer’s legal speak.”

“We should give him the benefit of the doubt,” Parker said. “At least as long as the people selling are getting a fair shake. It seems to me that Case will be in a perfect position to keep tabs on this kind of thing.”

Case glanced at his watch. “Speaking of my upcoming lifestyle change, I have an appointment in forty-five minutes to interview my new domestic assistant.”

“Is that the politically correct term these days?” Jeff seemed dubious.

Parker scrawled his name on the check, charging it to his club account as was their custom. “I think Case is trying to convince himself that a woman won’t ruin his carefully preserved chaos.”

Mac nodded, his grin broad. “I never met a woman yet who didn’t want to domesticate a man. No matter how old she is.”

Case lifted an eyebrow. “I am the newly elected president of a venerable organization whose members have run this town for over a century. I think I can handle a housekeeper.” He stood, and his friends followed suit.

Mac shook his hand. “You can count on me in the days ahead, sir.”

Case grinned. “Bite me.”

Parker saluted. “Happy to serve under your command.”

Jeff bowed. “Mi casa es su casa if you need a place to hide out.”

“Everybody’s a comedian.” As Case said his goodbyes and headed out to the parking lot, he reminded himself what a lucky man he was. He had a ranch and land he loved, a wide circle of friends, and now the respect and a nod of confidence from his peers who had voted for him.

If he could iron out this housekeeper thing, no pun intended, his life would be under control.

* * *

Mellie Winslow took in the sights as she made her way down the long driveway leading to the B Hive Ranch. Case Baxter’s fields and fences were immaculate, several varieties of placid cattle grazing peacefully as far as the eye could see. She envied him the order and success of his thriving operation.

Though her own small business, the Keep N Clean, was doing well, it couldn’t compare to the prosperity of this massive endeavor. Case must be an extraordinarily busy man—hence his request for a housekeeper.

Mellie knew that a good word from Case Baxter could be a boon to her business. What she didn’t know was whether or not Case would accept her proposition.

When at last she pulled up in front of the charming ranch house that had housed generations of Baxter men and their families, she noticed something odd. Apparently, Case’s cattle received more attention than did his aging home.

It would be an exaggeration to say the place looked run-down. That wasn’t it at all. But the two-story white ranch house with blue shutters seemed tired. Although the wraparound porch was large and appealing, no flowers were planted at its base. No colorful cushions bedecked the porch swing. No toddler bicycles or teen sports equipment lay scattered about the yard.

Although the B Hive Ranch had been in the family for decades, everyone in Royal knew that Case’s parents had both died young, and Case was an only child. It would be sad to see the place end up in other hands if Case had no heirs.

It was a possibility, though. Case was in his midthirties and apart from—or perhaps because of—his youthful marriage, which had ended badly, he showed no signs of settling down.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Mellie reminded herself that this was not her first rodeo. Keep N Clean had just celebrated its eighth anniversary. Mellie herself was a seasoned businesswoman. There was no need to feel intimidated by the power and stature of Case Baxter.

She didn’t know him well. Really only in passing.

Hopefully, that was about to change.

Along with her stylish tote that served as purse and catchall, she picked up a navy-and-lime-green folder that she now handed out to all prospective clients. Though the expense of producing the upscale advertising materials had been wince-worthy, she hoped the professional presentation would take her expanding company to the next level.

For some reason, she’d expected someone other than the owner to answer her knock. But only seconds passed before the tall blue-eyed man with dark brown hair opened the door and swung it wide.

He greeted her with a polite smile. “I’m Case Baxter. I’m assuming you’re here for the interview?” He filled the doorway, lean and long and wildly handsome.

Mellie shook his hand, feeling his large, warm fingers momentarily squeeze hers. Wow. His photograph in the newspaper didn’t do him justice. His short hair was neatly cut, though an unshaven chin gave him a rakish air. His clasp was not a second too long. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But her heart beat faster.

He was the perfect specimen of a Texas male. He wore faded jeans that molded to his body in interesting ways...scuffed hand-tooled cowboy boots, a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and an expensive watch that looked as if it could pick up cable channels on Mars.

She found her voice at last. “I’m Mellie Winslow. I own Keep N Clean.”

Case frowned slightly. He didn’t invite her in. “I thought I was interviewing a prospective housekeeper.”

“Well, you are,” she said, squirming inwardly. “The truth is, Mr. Baxter, I’ve been expanding my business. Things are going very well. But when you called asking for help, I decided I wanted to take this job myself.”

“Why?”

It was a valid question. She decided that honesty was the way to go. “May I come in so we can talk about it?”

“I supposed so.” He led her into the adjoining dining room, where a large formal table groaned beneath the weight of stacks of mail. In the few places not covered by papers, a layer of dust coated the wood.

“Have a seat,” he said. “As you can see, I didn’t exaggerate my need for assistance.”

Mellie sat down, and when he did the same, she slid a Keep N Clean folder across the table. “My rates and services are all listed here. The reason I’d like to do this job myself, Mr. Baxter, is because all of my current staff have taken on as much as they can handle. But I don’t want to turn you away. Having the newly elected president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club as a client would be invaluable advertising.”

“Always assuming you’re as good as you say...” He opened the folder and scanned testimonials she’d included from satisfied clients.

Mellie frowned. “I’m a hard worker. I’m meticulous. Also, I don’t need anyone to hold my hand every moment. Once you tell me what you require and give me detailed instructions about what I should and should not muck with in your home, I’ll be invisible.”

Case leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stared at her.

She refused to fidget. If this silent showdown was part of his interview strategy, she would pass muster or die trying.

At last he shrugged. “Your rates seem fair. But how do you propose to run your business and at the same time keep my house in order?”

“How do you propose to run your business and still keep the TCC in order?”

Sarcasm was one of her failings. Having a smart mouth was not the way to win over prospective clients. Fortunately for her, Case Baxter laughed.

His eyes went from glacial blue to sunshiny skies when he was amused. “Touché.” He tapped the fingers of one hand on the table, the small restless gesture indicating some level of dissatisfaction or concern.

Mellie leaned forward, giving him her best reassuring smile. “Have you used another service that wasn’t up to par? We could talk about where they fell short.”

“No.” His jaw tensed for a moment as if some distasteful memory had unsettled him. “I don’t tolerate strangers in my home very well. I like my privacy.”

“That’s understandable. If you prefer, we can arrange for me to clean when you’re gone. Or maybe that’s the idea you don’t like. I could make sure to work while you’re here. Whatever it takes, Mr. Baxter. How about a month’s trial run? At the end of that time, if you’re unhappy with the quality of my work, or if having someone come in to clean bothers you too much, I’ll cancel the contract with no penalty.”

“I can see why your business is doing well. It’s hard to say no to you.”

Mellie saw a definite twinkle in his eyes. She flushed. “I’m ambitious. But I think a man like you understands that. You won’t regret having me here, Mr. Baxter, I promise. In fact, I swear you’ll wonder why you didn’t hire Keep N Clean a lot sooner.”

“Perhaps I should be absolutely clear. It’s more than cleaning. If you come to work for me, I’ll want you to take a shot at organizing my home life.”

His request wasn’t out of the ordinary. Structuring a client’s daily environment to maximize family time and personal efficiency was something Mellie enjoyed. But it was hard to imagine Case Baxter allowing anyone, much less Mellie, access to something so personal.

When she hesitated, his eyes narrowed. “Is that a problem?”

“No. Not at all. But you mentioned protecting your privacy, so I would want to be perfectly clear about boundaries.”

“Such as?”

She floundered mentally, oddly put off her game by a conversation that shouldn’t have seemed the slightest bit provocative and yet drew her thoughts to sex-tossed sheets and whether Case Baxter favored boxers or briefs.

“There are many levels of organization, Mr. Baxter. Everything from creating a well-aligned sock drawer to alphabetizing kitchen spices.”

He chuckled, ratcheting up his masculine appeal at least a hundredfold. “I’m sure we can settle somewhere between the two.”

“So that’s a yes?” She cocked her head, her stomach a swirl of anticipation and feminine interest. Mixing business with pleasure had never been an issue, but with this man, she might have to be on her guard. He had neither said nor done anything to acknowledge the fact that she was a woman and he was a man. But it was kind of a hard thing to miss.

He nodded. “I think it’s a workable compromise. We’ll see how we get along together. And in the meantime, if you find that one of your other staff members is free to take over here, I’ll certainly understand.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me?”

Sweet holy Hannah. Where had that come from?

Two

His body tightened, on high alert. Though he was almost certain Mellie Winslow hadn’t intended anything suggestive by her question, there was enough of a spark in the air to make him react with a man’s natural response to a beautiful available woman.

Case hadn’t expected the punch of sexual interest. Truth be told, it reinforced his reservations about hiring any housekeeper, much less one who looked like Mellie. He was a sucker for redheads, especially the kind with skin the color of cream and wide emerald eyes reflecting a certain wariness...as if she had been disappointed one too many times in life.

Though she was clearly accustomed to hard physical labor, she was thin but not skinny. The shade of her red curls, spilling from a ponytail that fell past her shoulders, was a combination of fire and sunshine.

He should tell her to go. Right now.

“Are you saying I make you nervous, Ms. Winslow?”

She wrinkled her nose, as if smelling a refrigerator full of rotten eggs. “A little. I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

That last sentence was served with a side of feminine defiance designed to put him in his place. She reminded him of a fluffy chicken warning the rooster away from the henhouse.

“Duly noted.” He tapped a stack of envelopes. “The trial period works both ways. You may find me such a slob that you’ll run screaming for the hills.”

Mellie’s smile was open and natural. “I doubt that. I’ve reformed worse offenders than you, believe me.”

At that precise moment, he knew he wasn’t imagining the sizzle of physical awareness between them. Maybe Mellie didn’t notice, but he did. At thirty-six, he surely had more experience than this young woman, who was on the dewy-skinned right side of thirty.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He glanced at his watch, ruefully aware that he had to put an end to this provocative interview. “I’m afraid I have another appointment in town. So we’ll have to wrap this up. Why don’t you plan to start Thursday morning? I’ll put some thoughts on paper in regard to what I want you to tackle and we can go from there. Does that work for you?”

Mellie stood, smiling. “Absolutely. Thank you, Mr. Baxter. I’ll see you soon.”

“Call me Case,” he said.

“And I’m Mellie.”

* * *

Case stood at the window, his hand on the lace curtain as he watched his new housekeeper drive away. He knew the time had come to put his house in order—literally—but he had a sinking feeling that he might be making a bad mistake.

The fact that he found Mellie Winslow so appealing should have put an end to things. He’d fallen for an employee once before and ended up with a broken marriage and a bank account that had taken a severe hit. His track record with long-term relationships was virtually nonexistent.

He’d never had sisters. With his mother gone, the only female relatives he had were two cousins in California whom he saw maybe once a decade. He wasn’t a good judge of what made women tick. He enjoyed their company in bed. He was even willing to concede that women and men could be friends under certain circumstances.

But as one of the wealthiest ranchers in Maverick County, he’d learned the hard way that a man was not always judged on his own merits. He might marry again one day...maybe. But only if he was damn sure that his prospective bride cared more about his character than his financial bottom line.

As he drove into town, he noted, almost unconsciously, the signs that Royal was flourishing after last fall’s F4 tornado. He took in the new storefronts, fresh landscaping and a few empty lots where damaged buildings had been razed in preparation for upcoming construction.

The town had rebounded well, despite tragedy and hardship. Case knew there were still problems to be addressed. Insurance woes remained an issue. Slow payments. Court battles over settlements. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had a history of benevolence and community service. Case was determined to use his new position to keep the organization headed in the right direction, particularly in regard to the ongoing tornado cleanup.

For Royal to rebound from tragedy and prosper in the twenty-first century, it would be important to keep all sectors of the local economy alive. Which meant looking out for small businesses. Like the Keep N Clean.

When he pulled up on the side street adjoining the Royal Diner, he saw that the sheriff’s squad car was already there. He found Nathan Battle inside, sipping a cup of coffee and flirting with his wife, Amanda, who owned and operated the diner.

Case took off his cowboy hat and tucked it under his left arm. “Sheriff. Amanda. Good to see you both.” He shook Nathan’s hand and slid into the booth opposite the tall uniformed man he’d come to meet.

Amanda smiled at him. “Congratulations on the election. I just heard the news.”

“Thanks.” Nathan and Amanda had been high school sweethearts. After a tough breakup as kids, they’d eventually reconnected, fallen in love all over again and married. Case envied the almost palpable intimacy between them. Two people who had known each other for so long didn’t have to worry about secrets or betrayals.

Amanda kissed her husband on the cheek. “You boys have fun. I’ve got to go track down a missing shipment of flour, so Helen will be your waitress today. I’ll catch you later.”

The server took their order for coffee and dessert, and Case sat back with a sigh. He worked long hours. His daddy had taught him the ranching business from the ground up and drilled into him the notion that in order to be the boss, a man required more than money in the bank. He needed the respect and loyalty of his employees.

Nathan drained his coffee cup and raised a hand for more.

Case shook his head. “Do you live on that stuff?” Nathan was tall and lean and beloved by most of the town. But he rarely had time for leisure.

The sheriff shrugged. “There are worse vices.” He smiled at Helen as she gave him a refill, and then he eyed Case with curiosity. “What’s up, Case? You sounded mysterious on the phone.”

Case leaned forward. “No mystery. I’m hoping you’ll be available to look over the club’s security procedures and disaster plans. Last year’s tornado taught us all we need to stay on top of emergency preparedness.”

“Not a bad idea. I’d be happy to...just email me some dates and times, and I’ll block it off on my calendar.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

They chatted for half an hour, and then almost as an afterthought, Case asked Nathan the question that had been on his mind. “What do you know about Keep N Clean?”

“Mellie Winslow’s business?”

“Yes.”

“They’re a solid outfit. Amanda has used them here at the diner, and I know a lot of people around town who sing their praises. Why?”

“My housekeeper retired eight months ago. Took her pension and headed to Florida. I need help around the house. Especially now that I’m taking on leadership at the club. But I’m out on the ranch a lot of the time, and I don’t like the idea of having strangers invade my personal space.”

“I’m sure Mellie vets her employees thoroughly. I’ve never heard a single complaint about anyone on her staff, and I would know if there had been a problem.”

“And Mellie herself? She says her staffing situation is stretched to the max, so she would be the one working for me.”

The other man obviously knew about Case’s short-lived marriage. It was no secret. But it was humiliating nevertheless. Back then, Case had been thinking with a part of his anatomy other than his brain. The resultant debacle had been a tough lesson for a twentysomething.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking as a boss or as a man?”

“What does that mean?” Case hadn’t expected to be grilled.

“Well, Melinda Winslow is not only a savvy businesswoman, she’s a gorgeous unattached redhead who’s smart and funny and would be a great companion for any guy.”

“Hell, Nathan.” Case took a swig of coffee and nearly choked to death when the hot liquid singed his throat. “Why do all of my married friends feel the need to play matchmaker?”

Nathan grinned. “How many times have you gotten laid in the last month?”

“Not all marriages are like yours,” Case muttered, refusing to be jealous of his buddy’s good fortune. “Amanda is a peach.”

“So is Mellie. Don’t let your prejudices get in the way. And to be clear, now I’m talking about business again. She can be trusted, Case...if that’s what you’re asking. You can relax on that score. She’s not going to steal the silver or run off with a Picasso.”

Case’s parents had been art collectors. The ranch house was filled with priceless paintings and sculptures. “Good to know. I liked her during the interview, but it never hurts to get a second opinion. Anything else you want to add to your glowing recommendation?”

Something flickered across Nathan’s face...something that gave Case a moment’s pause. “What?” Case asked, mildly alarmed.

“Nothing bad about Mellie. But be on your guard if her dad comes around. He’s a drunk and a scoundrel. As far as I can tell, fathering Mellie is the only good thing he ever did. I arrest the guy for public intoxication at least several times a year.”

“And Mellie supports him?”

“No. He lives off the rents from a handful of properties around town that have been in the Winslow family for generations. In fact, the Texas Cattleman’s Club sits on Winslow’s land. Mellie helps out with the leasing company now and then, but I think she started her own business in order to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“No mother in the picture?”

“She died a long time ago. I imagine she left her daughter some kind of nest egg that allowed Mellie to start her business. The family used to be financially solvent, but Mellie’s dad has almost destroyed everything. Booze mostly, but gambling, too.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” After taking a bite of pie, Case moved on to another subject. “What do you know about Samson Oil and their connection to Nolan Dane? I hear he’s handling a lot of land sales for them.”

Nathan nodded. “I’ve heard it, too. Dane seems a decent sort. And his roots are here. So I assume he’s trustworthy. Still, Samson Oil is not a household name. No one seems to know much about them.”

“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Dane and the Samson Oil situation. Something about that whole thing seems a little off to me...”

* * *

Thursday morning Case found himself pacing the halls of his way-too-big-for-one-man house. At least half a dozen times he’d pulled out his phone to call Mellie Winslow and cancel her services. But he couldn’t think of a single explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a paranoid idiot, so he’d resisted the impulse to wave her off.

Relishing his privacy was one thing. But if he continued to keep women out of his house, he’d wind up a withered, curmudgeonly octogenarian with a fortune in the bank and a cold, lonely existence. Still...old habits were hard to break.

Mellie arrived five minutes before their arranged appointment time. He’d have to give her points right off the bat for promptness. When he opened the door at her knock, he blinked momentarily.

It could have been a reaction to the blinding midmorning sun. But more probably, it was the sight of a slender, smiling woman in knee-length navy shorts and a navy knit top piped with lime green. On her feet she wore navy Keds with emerald laces.

The name of her business was embroidered above one breast. A breast that he didn’t notice. Not at all.

He cleared his throat. “Come on in. I fixed us some iced tea.” Though it was November, the day was extremely hot and muggy.

“Thank you.” Mellie carried a large plastic tote loaded with various cleaning supplies.

“Leave that, why don’t you? We’ll sit down in the kitchen. I hope that’s not too informal.”

“Of course not.”

Mellie seemed at ease when she took a seat. Thankfully, she tucked those long, tanned legs out of sight beneath the table. The back of his neck started to sweat. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and get to work.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table and held out a piece of paper. “Here’s a rundown of my priorities. Feel free to add things as you see anything that needs attention.”

His newest employee glanced over the list. With her gaze cast downward, he could see how long her lashes were. “This looks good,” she said. “I’ll start out working full days for a couple of weeks until I get everything deep-cleaned and organized. After that we can talk about how often you’d like me to come.”

Case caught himself before his mind raced down a totally inappropriate path. Perhaps Nathan was right. Maybe Case had gone too long without sex. Because everything that came out of Mellie Winslow’s mouth sounded like an invitation.

Case cleared his throat. “I was at the diner and saw Nathan the other day. The sheriff had good things to say about you and your business...that you were completely trustworthy.”

“How did that come up in conversation? Were you investigating me?”

“No, no, no,” he said, backpedaling rapidly. “But you can’t fault me for asking what he knew about you.”

She stood up, her expression going from affronted to glacial in seconds. “In the folder I gave you several days ago there were half a dozen references. Any one of those people could have vouched for me. It wasn’t really a police matter, Mr. Baxter.”

“I’ve offended you,” he said, surprised at her reaction.

She tossed his list at him. “If you’re going to constantly keep tabs to make sure I haven’t cleaned out your safe or absconded with a priceless painting, then I don’t think this is going to work out. Good day, Mr. Baxter.”

Before he could react, she spun on her heel and headed for the front door, her ponytail bouncing with each angry step.

“Wait.” Belatedly, he sprang to his feet and strode after her, whacking his hip on the corner of the kitchen table. “Wait, Mellie.”

He caught up with her in the foyer as she picked up her supplies. “Don’t leave,” he said. “We agreed to a trial period.”

“Shortest one on record,” she snapped.

He really had no choice but to grab her arm in a gentle grip. “I’m sorry,” he said...as forcefully as he knew how. “If you leave, I’ll sue for breach of contract.” He said it with a smile to let her know he was joking. But Mellie Winslow didn’t look the least bit amused.

Wiggling free of his hold, she faced him, her expression turbulent. “I’m proud of my business. It’s been built on word of mouth and the quality of the employees I hire. Keep N Clean has never had a single complaint of anything going missing...or of anything being damaged, for that matter.”

Case rarely made a misstep, but he knew this was a bad one. “I am sincerely sorry. I shouldn’t have asked the sheriff about you.”

“Amanda Battle is a friend of mine. Do you understand that I’m embarrassed?”

He did. For the first time, he looked at his actions from Mellie’s perspective. To a Texan, honor was everything. She had a right to be upset.

“Let’s start over,” he said.

She stared at him. “Under one condition. No trial period. You sign the contract today.”

The negotiator in him was impressed. But more importantly, as a man, he found her bold confidence arousing. Everything about her was appealing. In other circumstances, he would have made an effort to get to know her more intimately.

Mellie Winslow, however, was here to put his house in order, not warm his bed. “I begin to see why your business is so successful. Very well, Ms. Winslow.” He held out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

Touching her was his next mistake. Awareness sizzled between them. Her skin was smooth and warm, her hand small and feminine in his grasp. He maintained the contact a few seconds longer than necessary.

When he released her and she stepped back, for the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “I probably overreacted,” she muttered. “I have a temper.”

A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “So the red hair is the real deal?”

“It is. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so touchy.”

They stood there staring at each other, the air rife with things best left unspoken. “I should go,” he said. “And let you get started.”

She nodded. “If I have any questions, is it okay to text you?”

“Of course.”

Her green eyes with a hint of gray warmed slightly. “I’ll try not to bother you.”

Too late for that. He picked up his keys from the table beside the front door. “See you later, Mellie Winslow. Good luck with my house.”

Three

Mellie watched him go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was much easier to familiarize herself with a new house if the owner was not underfoot. Still, she wouldn’t have minded if her new boss had lingered. She was curious about Case Baxter. Even though he was an arrogant, know-it-all male.

He was an intriguing combination of down-to-earth cowboy and high-powered businessman. It was no secret he was worth millions.

From what she’d heard around town, in addition to running his massive and wildly successful cattle operation, Case liked investing, particularly in small businesses. He believed in supporting the local economy. After the tornado—when the banks were stretched thin giving out loans—Case had floated some cash around the community, as well.

People in Royal liked and respected Case Baxter. Which explained his recent election as president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. The newspaper had run a bio along with the article announcing the results. Mellie knew that Case was thirty-six, which made him seven years her senior.

The age gap wasn’t significant, except for the fact that she still felt as though she was starting out, while Case was a man in his prime...in every way that counted.

Shrugging off her absorption with the sexy cowboy, she made herself focus on the job at hand. Case’s home was a stunning example of what could happen when the past was carefully preserved even amidst modern improvements. Unfortunately, the beauty of the old house was obscured by clutter.

Judging by the kitchen, Case apparently grabbed only breakfast and lunch at home. Presumably, he ate dinner out most nights. She found orange juice and milk in the fridge and a couple of boxes of cereal in the cabinet. Lunch items were similarly sparse. Aside from pizzas and a couple of steaks in the freezer, his larder was woefully bare.

There was no reason in the world for her to feel sorry for Case Baxter. The man had everything he wanted or needed. He could hire a full-time chef if he liked. But the thought of him rattling around this big old house on his own gave her a twinge.

Not many men had the gift of making a home cozy and warm. Case was a Texas bachelor. Macho. Authoritative. Accustomed to giving orders and running his ranch. He wasn’t the kind to bake cookies or pick flowers.

That mental image made her chuckle. Time to get to work.

She started with the dining room, since it seemed the most straightforward. Case had instructed her to pitch all the junk mail into the recycle bin and to keep only the things that looked personal or otherwise important. Though the stacks of envelopes, catalogs and circulars were high, anybody with half a brain could sort through this kind of stuff in no time.

When she was done, there were maybe a dozen pieces of real mail remaining. She carried them down the hall and put them on Case’s desk, a beautiful antique rolltop. His office was curiously impersonal. No knickknacks. No photographs, not even of his parents.

That was the thing about cleaning someone’s house. It was an oddly intimate activity. She understood suddenly why a man like Case had been hesitant about hiring help. If the state of his home was any indication, he was a guarded man, one who didn’t easily reveal his secrets.

By the time she made it to his bedroom, she had spent most of the day in only three rooms. That was no surprise, really. Decluttering was a slow process, especially when it involved someone else’s belongings. But she had been successful. The living room and dining room were now spotless, as was Case’s study.

It was past time for her to leave, so his bedroom would have to wait. But she did take a moment to gather discarded clothing and carry the items to the laundry room. Tomorrow that would be her first priority.

She paused in the doorway, lingering a moment, unable to help herself. The man’s bed was hedonistic. An enormous carved four-poster that looked Spanish in origin dominated the room. No expense had been spared in the bed linens. The ecru sheets and thick, fluffy coffee-brown comforter were both masculine and luxurious.

The covers were tangled, as if their owner had passed a restless night. In the jumble of clothing she’d picked up off the floor and from a chair and in the bathroom, there were no pajamas. Maybe Case Baxter slept in the nude.

With her face hot and her stomach jumpy, Mellie went back and made the bed quickly before retreating, content to leave this battlefield for another day. Never before had she taken such an intense interest in a client’s sleeping arrangements. Her imagination ran rampant, imagining Case’s big, tanned body sprawled against those whisper-soft sheets.

She swallowed hard, feeling the unmistakable rush of sexual arousal. This was bad. Very bad. Not only was she too busy for any kind of relationship, sexual or otherwise...but Case was one of Royal’s most eligible bachelors. He wasn’t likely to be interested in the hired help.

Mellie’s family went way back in Royal, maybe as far back as Case’s did. Despite that, when she eventually married and started a family, she wanted an ordinary man, one who would have time to be a daddy...a man who was interested in home and hearth.

As far as she could tell, Case had tried marriage and found it lacking. He’d be unlikely to dip his toes into that water again anytime soon, if ever. And since she wasn’t the kind of woman who was comfortable having casual sex, there was no point in seeing Case Baxter as anything other than a paycheck and a valuable advertisement for Keep N Clean.

Feeling unaccountably morose, she told herself she was just tired after a long day’s work. She gathered her things, let herself out and carefully locked the front door.

After the short drive back to town and a forty-five-minute stop at her office to check mail and phone messages that hadn’t been routed to her personal cell, she headed for home. She had a date tonight with a favorite TV show, some leftover spaghetti and her comfy sofa.

But the plan changed when she found her father camped out on her doorstep. It looked as if he had been sitting there for a while, because he had an empty beer bottle at either hip. His eyes were bloodshot. Though he stood when she walked up the path to the small duplex she called home, he was unsteady on his feet.

“You changed your locks,” he said, a look of bafflement on his florid face. Harold Winslow was short and round with salt-and-pepper hair and skin weathered by the Texas sun. Once upon a time he had been a successful businessman. But when his beloved wife died, his alcoholic tendencies had taken over.

Hugging him briefly, she sighed. “I’m a grown woman, Daddy. I like my privacy. You don’t seem to understand that.” She had tried her best not to fall into a codependent relationship with her only living parent. But that was easier said than done.

The trouble was, Mellie felt his pain. Ila Winslow had been the center of their lives. When cancer took her away from her husband and sixteen-year-old daughter, their world had caved in. Harold found solace in whiskey. Mellie had been forced to grow up far too quickly.

Harold followed her into the house. “Any chance you might fix dinner for your dear old dad?”

She counted to ten beneath her breath, keeping her back to him. “We can order a pizza. I’m beat. I was planning to eat leftovers.”

“Pizza works. You got any cash? I left my billfold at home.”

It was an old game they played. Harold could live comfortably off the rents from the properties he still owned. But money slipped through his fingers like water through a sieve. When he ended up broke again and again, he came knocking at Mellie’s door...sometimes figuratively, but more often than not, literally...like tonight.

Swallowing her disappointment at having her hopes for a peaceful evening shattered, she managed an even tone. “Go ahead and order what you want. I’m going to change clothes.”

By the time she returned to the living room, her father was sprawled in a recliner, the television remote in his hand. He gave her a smile, but behind it she thought she saw despair. His existence was aimless. No matter how hard Mellie tried, she couldn’t get him to understand that his life wasn’t over. She loved her dad, but once in a while, it would have been nice to lean on him instead of always having to be the grown-up.

Dinner arrived soon after. She paid for the two small, fragrant pizzas and tipped the young man, wondering if the fact that she and her father couldn’t even agree on toppings was proof that she would never convince him to see things her way.

They ate in silence, the television filling the void. Finally, she finished her meal and decided it was now or never...a conversation that was long overdue. But she would come at it indirectly.

“I started a new job today, Daddy. I’m going to be cleaning and organizing for Case Baxter.”

Harold raised an eyebrow. “The new Texas Cattleman’s Club president?”

“Yes. Having him as a client will be a coup, I think.”

“I’m proud of you, baby girl.”

For once, she thought he meant it. “Thank you.” She paused and said a prayer. “I’m doing well, Daddy. Keep N Clean is solvent and growing.”

He nodded. “Good for you.”

An awkward silence descended, but she forged ahead. “We need to talk about last week.”

Immediately, his face closed up. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Quit worrying. I don’t drink as much as you think I do.”

“Sheriff Battle found you passed out in the street.” She hesitated, dreading his reaction. “I’d like to pay for you to go to rehab before it’s too late.”

“I hadn’t eaten breakfast. My blood sugar was too low. I fainted, that’s all.”

“Daddy, please. I know you miss Mom. So do I. Every day. But at the rate you’re going, I’m likely to lose you, too.”

Harold lumbered to his feet and stood with what dignity he could. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Surely a man can enjoy a couple of beers without getting a lecture.”

It was more than beer. A lot more. And the alcohol abuse was aging him rapidly. “Just think about it,” she pleaded. “It won’t be so bad. I’ve read about some beautiful places right here in Texas. I want you to be healthy and strong so you can play with your grandchildren one day.”

Her father snorted. “You don’t even date. That cleaning company of yours won’t keep you warm at night. Maybe you’d better quit worrying about me and find yourself a man.”

It was exactly like Harold to go on the attack when she tried to talk to him about his drinking. “I’ve got plenty of time for that.”

For a split second the naked pain in her father’s heart was written on his face. “We all think we have plenty of time, Mellie. But love isn’t a permanent gift. Losing it hurts. I’m pretty sure that’s why you don’t let any man get too close. I’ll make you a deal, darlin’... When you get your life in order, I’ll let you muck around with mine.”

She stood at the door and watched him go...his gait slow but relatively steady. He’d had his driver’s license revoked time and again. Fortunately, the home where Mellie had grown up and where Harold still lived was centrally located in Royal, making it possible for her father to walk to his destinations for the most part.

As she showered and got ready for bed, she pondered her father’s words. It was true that she rarely went out on a date. She’d told herself that getting a business off the ground required determination and hard work. But did it demand the sacrifice of any kind of personal life?

Her pride stung a bit to know that her father had pegged her so well. In her desperate need to get him to admit his failings and seek help, had she overlooked her own response to grief?

Over the years, she hadn’t cared enough for any of the men who populated her modest social life to let them get too close. Channeling her energy into Keep N Clean kept her focused. Romance would only get in the way of her life plan.

Ordinarily after a hard day, she was out by the time her head hit the pillow. Tonight, though, she couldn’t get settled. Her father seemed increasingly out of control, and she didn’t know what to do to help him. He was an adult...with resources. So why did she feel responsible for his actions?

Reaching for a more pleasant subject, she reminded herself that tomorrow she would have the opportunity to spend more time in Case Baxter’s beautiful home. It had personality...and history. Bringing it to its full potential would be a pleasure. Not to mention the outside chance she might run into the man himself.

He’d given her a set of keys along with his permission to come and go as she liked during the day. According to Case, he was going to be very busy at the club and also with the ranch. She got the distinct impression he planned to make himself scarce as long as she was working in his house.

Something about that notion made her feel weird and discouraged. Case was exactly the kind of man she found appealing. It hurt that he wanted to avoid her.

Thumping her pillow with her fist, she rearranged the light blanket. The cold would come, but for now, her bedroom was stuffy.

She was finally almost asleep when her phone dinged quietly, signaling a text. Groaning, she reached for her cell and squinted at it in the dark.

Mellie—I hope I’m not disturbing you. I know it’s late, but I wanted to tell you thanks. You’re a miracle worker. I almost thought I was in the wrong house when I got home tonight. Kudos to Keep N Clean...

Case Baxter. The last person on earth she expected to be texting her at this hour, or any hour, for that matter. Was she supposed to answer? Or simply let him think she was asleep? She hesitated for a moment and then put down the phone.

It was nice of him to take the time to acknowledge her work. Perhaps the message was a peace offering after the argument that had started their day.

With a smile on her face, she snuggled back into the covers, unable to squelch the hope that she would run into Case tomorrow and maybe even see him in her dreams.

Four

Case jammed his Stetson as far down on his head as it would go and hunched his shoulders, trying to bury his chin in the collar of his rain jacket. The weather gods had finally sent Maverick County some moisture, but it wasn’t the days-long, soaking rain they needed.

Instead, the precipitation was a miserable, icy-cold drizzle that chilled a man right down to the bone, a dramatic shift from the previous day. Since seven this morning, he’d been out riding the fence line with his foreman, looking for problems. They’d lost two dozen head of cattle in the past few weeks. Everyone suspected rustlers, but before Case involved the authorities, he wanted to make sure the animals hadn’t simply wandered away through a hole in the fence.

Now, though he was wet and weary, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that his fencing was not compromised. Giving the foreman a wave, Case turned his horse and galloped back toward the house. Already this new housekeeper thing was getting in his way.

Ordinarily in a situation like this, he would strip down in the mudroom, walk through his house naked and climb into the hot tub on the sheltered back porch. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen today, with Mellie around.

Muttering beneath his breath, he handed off his horse to one of the stable guys in the barn and then strode toward the house. He was grumpy and wet and hungry, and he wanted his castle to himself. His bad mood lasted all the way up until the moment he found Mellie Winslow bending over the side of his bed dusting the base of one of the posts. She was wearing Spandex pants, the navy fabric curved snugly against a firm, shapely butt.

His heart lodged in his throat at about the same time his gut tightened with swift and wicked arousal that swept through his veins. He actually took half a step backward, because he was stunned.

Mellie straightened and smiled, her expression cautious. “Mr. Baxter. Case. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be home in the middle of the day. I can move on to another room for now.”

He shrugged. “I need a hot shower. Won’t be long.” Unless maybe he got distracted imagining Mellie in there with him...

“I put fresh towels in your bathroom a few minutes ago. They’re probably still warm from the dryer.” She paused and seemed hesitant. “Have you had lunch?”

Come to think of it, he hadn’t. Which might account for his surly attitude. “No. I’ll grab something in a minute.”

“Would you like me to fix soup and a sandwich? It’s no problem.”

His fingers were cold, his skin damp. But inside, he was burning up. He should have hired a seventy-plus grandmotherly type with a bun and absolutely no sex appeal.

But he hadn’t. Oh, no...not at all. He’d brought temptation into his house. Hell, into his bedroom, to be exact. He cleared his throat. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

Mellie nodded and walked away.

Case slumped against the wall, his heart thundering in his chest. There was far too much going on in his life right now to get sidetracked by a very inconvenient attraction. He was a grown man. Not a boy. He could control his physical impulses.

In the shower he turned the water hot enough to sting his skin. Maybe the discomfort would take his mind off the fact that he had an erection...a big one. Damn. What was it about Mellie that caught him off guard and made him hungry to strip her naked and take her to bed?

She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way, but Royal had more than its share of attractive women. Case didn’t find himself panting after every one of them. Maybe it was the fact that Mellie was in his house.

That was his mistake.

He dried off and changed into clean clothes. His others, wet and muddy, lay in a pile on the bathroom floor. Presumably, his new housekeeper would take care of washing them.

Standing in the middle of his bedroom, he acknowledged the truth. He didn’t want Mellie Winslow washing his clothes. He had far better plans for activities the two of them could enjoy.

It was bad enough that she was cleaning up after him. Maybe he was weird, or maybe his first marriage had ruined him, but he liked relating to women on an even footing. Mellie was talented and capable and she was doing exactly what he had hired her to do. So why was he getting freaked out about everything?

He found her in the kitchen. She hummed as she moved around the room. His oak table, situated in the breakfast nook, was set with a single place mat, a lone plate and glass and a set of silverware.

Mellie waved a hand. “It’s all ready, if you want to sit down.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “Aren’t you joining me?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and a faint pink crept up her neck. “I had a big breakfast. I usually work through lunch.”

“At least a cup of coffee, then. You’re on the clock, and it’s my clock.” He smiled to put her at ease, since she was eyeing him dubiously.

“Okay.”

He refused to sit at the table and be served as if he were in a restaurant. Instead, he waited until she placed the bowl of tomato soup and the grilled cheese sandwich at his place. “This looks great,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Coffee to drink?”

“Yes, please. Black.”

Mellie poured two cups, added milk and sugar to hers, and then joined him as they both sat down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the aroma of freshly prepared food reached him and his stomach growled loudly.

It was Mellie’s turn to grin.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, Mellie sipping her coffee and Case wolfing down the food she had prepared for him. Though soup and a sandwich wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, the comfort food was filling and delicious.

“So tell me, Mellie...what are your ambitions for Keep N Clean?”

If she was surprised by his interest, she didn’t show it. “When I’m dreaming big,” she said, “I think about franchising and moving into medium-size towns all over Texas.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. You must have a knack for numbers.”

“I have an associate business degree. But most of the hands-on stuff is self-taught. It’s important to discern what a client wants and then be able to provide it. Especially in a service industry like mine. You have to stand out from the pack.”

“Very true, I’m sure.” He finished his meal and stood to get more coffee. He held out the coffeepot. “More for you?”

Mellie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d better get back to work.”

“Not so fast,” he said. The urge to detain her was unsettling. He had plenty to keep him busy. But he didn’t want to walk away from Mellie. “Tell me about yourself.”

Mellie smiled wryly. “Is that really necessary?”

“Humor me.”

“Well...”

He watched her search for words and wondered if she was going to avoid any mention of her father. Fortunately, he was a patient man...so he waited.

She shrugged. “It’s not very exciting. I grew up in Royal. My mom died of cancer when I was sixteen. My dad went into a tailspin of grief, meaning I ended up being the parent in our relationship. I knew I wanted to start my own business, so I looked around and tried to find something that filled a niche. Royal had an industrial cleaning company but nothing smaller, other than individuals who worked for themselves.”

“And here you are.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Working for the brand-new president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

“Are all your employees as eye-catching in that uniform as you are?”

Her jaw dropped a centimeter. “Um...”

“Sorry. Was that out of line?”

“More like unexpected.” She stared at him, gaze narrowed, clearly trying to get inside his head. “Someone told me that you don’t like women invading your house.”

He winced. Royal’s gossipy grapevine was alive and well. “That’s not exactly accurate.”

“No?” She cocked her head as if to say she knew he was skirting the truth.

“I like my privacy. But since I have neither the time nor the inclination to round up dust bunnies or clean out the fridge, I have to make compromises.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m accustomed to wealthy people who barely even acknowledge the presence of a service worker. We’re invisible to them. Nonentities.”

He frowned. “I can’t speak for all the comfortably well-to-do families in Royal, but my friends aren’t like that.”

“If you say so. And for the record, Case, no one would describe you as only ‘comfortably well-to-do.’”

Mellie Winslow had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she wasn’t trying to hide it now. “Does my lifestyle offend you, Mellie?” he asked gently, wondering if she would rise to the bait.

She sat back in her chair, pushing a few stray wisps of hair from her forehead. The set of her jaw was mutinous. “Let’s just say that I don’t have a single Modigliani hanging in my hallway.”

“My parents were art collectors. They traveled the world. But believe me when I tell you I would trade every sculpture and painting in this house to have Mom and Dad back with me for just one day.”

* * *

Mellie knew she had stepped in it...big-time. She felt hot color roll from her throat to her forehead. The taste of shame was unpleasant. “I am so sorry, Case. You’re right, of course. Relationships matter more than things. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

He grinned at her, his scruffy chin making him dangerously attractive. His hair was still damp from his shower. “Don’t get carried away. Money is good for a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

He leaned his chair back on two legs, defying gravity, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Flying to Paris for the weekend. Buying a yacht. Scoring Super Bowl tickets. Supporting a charity. Spoiling a woman.”

She had a feeling he threw that last one in to get a reaction.

There was a reaction. But it happened someplace he couldn’t actually see. She cleared her throat. “Being spoiled is nice, but most women I know want to take care of themselves.”

For the first time, she saw a shadow of cynicism on his face. “Maybe you know the wrong rich people and I know the wrong women.”

Mellie stood abruptly, feeling out of her depth and alarmingly sympathetic toward the man who’d been born and reared with every possible advantage. “There’s more soup on the stove, if you’re still hungry. I really do have to get busy.”

Case unfolded that long, lean body of his from the chair and joined her at the dishwasher, his hands brushing hers as he put his plate alongside her cup. She felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. “Is your boss such a slave driver?” he muttered.

She turned around to face him. They were almost in an embrace, the counter at her back and one big contrary cowboy planted in front of her. She lifted her chin and propped her hands behind her. “I’m the boss, Case. And I don’t need to be spoiled. If I want to fly to Paris this weekend, I’ll buy my own ticket.”

His gaze settled on her lips. For one heart-thumping second, she knew he was going to kiss her. “Don’t be so touchy, Mellie. There’s nothing wrong with a man doing nice things for a woman.”

Things? Oh, Lordy. “Um, no... I guess not.” She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you flirting with me, Case Baxter?”

He shrugged, a half smile doing interesting things to that enticing mouth. “What happens if I say yes?” His thick eyelashes settled at half-mast. She could smell the soap from his shower and his warm skin.

Her inclination was to tell him. The truth. The shivery, weak-in-the-knees truth. She wanted hot, sweaty, no-holds-barred sex with Case Baxter on his newly made bed.

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