Texas Pride. Barbara McCauley
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a wife—or wives, as the case might be—or children.
Damn that smile of his. She hated the way it made her control slip. He sipped his coffee, watching her with dark intense eyes that never seemed to miss a thing. She shifted slightly under his perusal.
“Which brings me back to my question,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “With your qualifications, why would you accept what I’m offering?”
Susan set the hamburger and fries in front of Dylan, fussed over him for a minute, then when Jessica scowled at her, reluctantly moved to take another order at the counter.
Dylan slid the plate closer to Jessica. The smell of the fries was sheer heaven. Just one, she told herself, reaching for the plate.
“The first reason is that it’s temporary work, nothing long-term,” he said. “I don’t like to be tied down.”
No big surprise there, Jessica thought. A man who traveled on a motorcycle with little more than a duffel bag was hardly the type to build picket fences. “And your second reason?” she asked.
“This youth center you want to build,” Dylan said, “are you doing it for money?”
“Of course not,” she answered impatiently.
“And the land, Stone Creek, you could sell it and make a few bucks?”
Even the thought of selling one acre of Stone Creek sent a wave of indignation through Jessica. “I told you I would never sell.”
“So everything doesn’t have to be about money, does it?” Dylan asked. “There are other reasons that motivate people, aren’t there?”
Dylan saw the suspicion in Jessica’s blue eyes. Not that he blamed her. He’d certainly be suspicious if he were in her place. He hadn’t even listed all his past experience, but since he wasn’t sure of the competition, he’d given her enough to assure him the job. He just had to convince her he was the right man.
The problem was he wasn’t so sure anymore that he was the right man. He hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to Jessica. Even as he watched her now, with her hair loose and the top of her blouse undone, he felt a wave of overwhelming lust for her. That was all it was, of course. Lust. But it was certainly stronger than anything he’d experienced before. And it certainly would complicate matters. As she nibbled delicately on a french fry, he couldn’t stop the sweat breaking out on his skin.
He’d have to control his more basic instincts, that was all. Jessica was off-limits. Way off-limits.
“Okay, Mr. Grant,” she said, finally breaking the long silence.
“Dylan.”
She nodded. “Okay, Dylan. So maybe there are other reasons that motivate people. Tell me what yours are. I think you owe me at least that much.”
He thought about that for a moment. “Let’s just say I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Another notch in the experience belt, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Jessica couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from curving upward. It was hard to believe, incredible even, that a man with Dylan’s qualifications would work for the pay she offered. “Christmas is just a few weeks away. Are you going to need time off to be with your family?”
He shook his head. “There’s no notch in my belt for family, Miss Stone. Christmas is just another day to me.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone feeling that way about Christmas. It was her favorite holiday. The most special day of the year, as far as she was concerned. She was torn between being happy he didn’t need time off and feeling sorry for him. Dylan, however, did not appear to be a man that wanted sympathy from anyone.
“All right, then.” She met his steady gaze. “You’re hired.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I need a room.”
She nearly choked. “What!”
“Your salary isn’t enough to live on. I need a place to stay.”
What was the saying? If something was too good to be true, then it probably wasn’t? “I can’t afford that. It would cost a fortune to rent you a room here in town.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I want to stay out at Makeshift, to cut down on travel time and the expense of gas. Plus, if there’s any problems, I’ll be right there.”
It didn’t matter that everything he said made sense. It wasn’t possible. “You can’t be serious. I can’t stay out there with you, alone.”
“Why not?”
Her cheeks flushed bright red. “Because...well, because I can’t.”
“I won’t attack you, Jessica, if that’s what you’re afraid of. All I’m interested in here is a job.”
She was glad to hear that, but nevertheless, her ego still winced at the outright rejection. “I’m most certainly not afraid. It’s just that, well, I like my privacy and...” She straightened the silverware on the table and fiddled with the napkin.
“And your brothers will kill you?”
She shook her head. “No. They’ll kill you most likely.”
“Let me worry about your brothers. I’m sure they’re reasonable men.”
“Reasonable?” Jessica gave a dry laugh. “Dylan, that word doesn’t exist when describing the Stone men.” She spread her hands wide and sighed. “But it certainly will be interesting to watch you try.”
“So I’m hired?”
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was insane. Although, she’d be equally insane not to do everything necessary to employ this man. She smiled at him and held out her hand. “You’re hired.”
Dylan smiled back and took her hand. The connection was like grabbing a live wire. They stared at each other, each of them stunned at the awareness that radiated between them.
Dylan quickly let go, relieved that the waitress had chosen exactly that moment to refill his coffee cup and chatter about how much she liked motorcycles. He nodded politely, though he barely heard more than a few words, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
* * *
“You did what?”
Jessica stood in the mesquite-clogged street in front of Makeshift Saloon and silently tolerated Jared’s yelling. Arms folded, Jake stood beside his brother, his face set in hard lines beneath his black Stetson.
“I told you,” she explained patiently, combing her hair back from her face when a warm breeze caught the loose ends, “yesterday I hired a man named Dylan Grant to be my foreman, and part of his salary is a room here. I expect him any minute now, and I want you both to behave yourselves.”
“How could you do something so idiotic?” Jared continued. “You don’t even know this guy. How do you know he’s not a serial killer?”
“Because I know.” Jessica put her hands on her hips and looked at her brothers. They both had the same black hair and Stone-blue eyes as she did. Anyone else having a confrontation with two six-foot-four-inch angry men might be intimidated, but Jessica had learned at a very young age to stand her ground. “And Hannibal liked him, too.” She scratched the dog behind his ears.
Jake rolled his eyes, and Jared threw his hands up.
“Oh, I feel much better now,” Jared said, taking a step toward the dog. When Hannibal growled, Jared frowned and moved back.
Jessica smiled. “See. I told you he’s a good judge of character.