The Ryders: Jared, Royce and Stephanie: Seduction and the CEO. Barbara Dunlop
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“You really are frighteningly good at this.” His gruff voice interrupted her fantasy.
She blinked. “Huh?”
His jaw tightened, and he took a step back. “I can see why you’ve got so many men at your beck and call.”
She shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Be careful, Melissa,” he warned. “Not all of them will walk away.”
And with that, he turned on his heel.
She thought about calling out to protest. Her flirtation was normally light and inconsequential. She’d never let herself get carried away. This was the first time she’d ever even considered taking the next step.
And she wouldn’t have actually kissed him.
There was far too much at stake. All she wanted was some information on his business, his life, his background.
And she had some.
Melissa couldn’t help but smile.
Jared might think she was shameless, but at least he didn’t know she was a journalist, and she’d obtained more useful material for her article.
Ignoring the anger in his stride, and the stiff set of his shoulders as he made his way back down the dirt driveway, she skipped up the stairs to her cottage. She needed to make notes right away.
“What did you do to tick Anthony off last night?” Stephanie’s voice startled Jared as he tightened Tango’s cinch in front of her house midmorning. The meeting had ended late last night, and it had been simpler to sleep here than ride ten miles to the main house at the cattle ranch in the dark. Anthony and Otto had left immediately after breakfast.
He took one final reflexive look at Melissa cleaning tack inside a shed across the driveway. The woman was taking an inordinately long time on a basic bridle. Then he slipped the cinch buckle into place and turned to face his sister.
Stephanie was dressed in dressage clothes, obviously ready for another day of training with Rosie-Jo. They had a competition coming up, but Jared couldn’t remember the details.
“I told him to stop flirting with the help,” Jared answered.
“What help?”
“Melissa.” He pulled the right stirrup into place. “I don’t know why you hired that woman. She’s completely useless.”
“She needed a job,” said Stephanie.
“We’re not running a charitable organization.”
Stephanie stuffed one hand on her hip. “Actually we are.”
Jared rolled his eyes, grasping the saddle horn to wiggle it and test the placement. “Then she can apply through the Genevieve Fund.”
“Don’t be such a hard-ass.”
“I’m not a hard-ass. I’m a realist.” He nodded toward Melissa. “She’s been working on that same bridle for half an hour. And mark my words, she’s going to cause trouble between the cowboys.”
“The cowboys are full-grown men.”
“My point exactly.”
“They’re responsible for their own behavior.”
Jared gave his sister a meaningful glare. Men were men. And flirtatious women were trouble. “Like I said, I’m a realist.”
Stephanie set her helmet on the end post of the hitching rail and gathered her auburn hair into a ponytail. “I’m not going to fire Melissa.”
“Well, I’m not going to be responsible for the fallout,” he warned.
“Who said you had to be responsible? Besides, aren’t you going back down to the cattle ranch today?”
Jared gently positioned the bit in Tango’s mouth. “Thought I’d stay at your place for a few days.”
There was a moment’s silence, and he braced himself.
Her tone hardened. “I’m perfectly fine, big brother.”
“I know you’re perfectly fine,” Jared allowed. He was sure she felt that way for now.
“This is no different than any other anniversary.”
Jared didn’t argue the point. But they’d just lost their grandfather, and Stephanie was hurting. No matter how hard she pretended otherwise, the siblings’ annual reunion and visit to the family graveyard would be particularly difficult for her this year. He usually stayed down at the main house at the cattle ranch, since it was larger. But Stephanie couldn’t leave her work and her students at the equestrian center, so he’d stay here instead.
“When’s Royce showing up?” he asked, instead.
“Saturday. You should get back down there and help McQuestin.” Stephanie referred to their aging cattle ranch manager.
“McQuestin doesn’t want my help.”
She plunked her helmet on her head and set her lips in a mulish line. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Jared leaned back against the hitching rail, crossing his arms over his chest while he faced his sister. “Maybe I need you.”
Her pale blue eyes immediately softened. “You do?”
He nodded. It wasn’t a lie. He needed to be with her right now. It was the only way he’d be sure she was okay.
She moved forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I know you miss Gramps. Do you still miss Mom and Dad?”
Jared nodded again. But this time, his lie was outright. He didn’t miss his parents. He was angry with his parents. Furious, if the truth be known. But that was his burden, the secret passed down by his grandfather. His only choice was to preserve their memories for his siblings.
Stephanie’s eyes shimmered and she blinked rapidly. “Then you should stay.”
Jared covered her hand with his. “Thank you.”
“You want to watch me jump?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “I’m going to check the pasture land at Buttercup Pond. Clear my head a little. I’ll swing by later in the morning.”
Stephanie nodded. Then she swiped the back of her hand across one cheek and headed for the main arena.
Jared tugged Tango’s lead rope free and swung up into the saddle. The ride to Buttercup Pond to establish his cover story would take him a couple of hours. But his real mission was across the Windy River. Since his grandfather’s deathbed revelation in April, he couldn’t get his great-great-grandparents’ cabin out of his mind.
The walk to the Ryders’ great-great-grandparents’ cabin took longer than Melissa had expected. At last she came around a bend of the river to see two cabins. One, made of logs, was nearly collapsing with age. The other was obviously newer. It was larger, made from lumber, with glass windows still intact and peeling white paint on the walls and porch.
A single story, it was L-shaped, with a peaked, green shingle roof. The rails had sagged off the porch, but the three steps looked safe enough, and the front door was a few inches ajar. The buildings were surrounded by a wildflower meadow that nestled up against steep rocky cliffs, jutting into the crystal-blue sky. The river glided by through a wide spot, nearly silent compared to the rapids upstream.
Melissa pulled out her cell phone, clicking a couple of pictures, wishing Susan was along with her camera.
Then she gingerly climbed the three stairs. She pressed the front door, slowly creaking it open. A dank, dusty room was revealed in the filtered sunlight through the stained windows. It held a stone fireplace, an aging dining table and chairs, and the remnants of a sofa. The floorboards were warped and creaky. Through a doorway, yellowed linoleum