Midnight Under the Mistletoe. Sara Orwig
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“Truthfully, with Caroline, it’s been fun. Come with us and you’ll see.”
“I love little Caroline, but you go ahead. Doc told me to stay put and this is a better place than snowy mountains in Colorado.”
“That’s true, but we’d take care of you.”
Zach shook his head. “Thanks, Will, for coming out.”
“Let me know about the secretary. I’ll get you one who’s excellent.”
“With Margo on maternity leave, I may have to find a new one permanently. I don’t want to think about that.”
Now, Zach shifted his foot and glared at it, recalling the moment the pile of rubble had given way and he had fallen, breaking an ankle, plus small bones, causing a sprain and getting one deep gash. Staying off his foot most of the time was hell. He didn’t like working daily in an office, and the doctor told him he couldn’t go back to working on site or travel much, but he could do some work at the ranch and stay off his foot as best he could.
Zach sighed as the car slowed in front of the house. Emma Hillman. She climbed out of her car and came up the walk.
Startled, he momentarily forgot her mission. A tall, windblown, leggy redhead, who would turn heads everywhere, was striding toward his front door. With looks like hers, she belonged on a model’s catwalk or doing a commercial or in a bar, not striding purposefully toward his house in the hopes of doing secretarial chores. Even though she wore a tailored, dark green suit with an open black coat over it, she had a wild, attention-getting appearance.
The west Texas wind swept over her, catching more tendrils of long red hair and blowing them around her face. Immobilized, Zach stared. She didn’t look like any secretary on his staff in any office he had. Nor did she resemble the homebody type to his way of thinking. All those recommendations she had—they must have been based on her looks. His spirits sank. He would have to ask Will to find him somebody else. He needed someone who would stay on the ranch during the week. This one was a declared homebody. Add that to her looks and he couldn’t imagine it working out. He also couldn’t imagine her being an efficient secretary, either. He would give Emma Hillman a lot of work and in less than two days, she would probably fold and run as her predecessor had.
When the bell rang, he could hear Nigel get the door. Zach hobbled back to the middle of the room to wait to meet her. Before he sent her packing, he might get her home phone number. Actually, even if she did work out here, when the temporary job ended she’d go back to the corporate office, so getting her phone number was only wishful thinking. She’d still be an employee. Even so, eagerness to meet her took the boredom out of the morning. This promised to be his most enjoyable moment since he arrived at the ranch.
Emma Hillman pushed a button and heard chimes. Her gaze swept over the large porch. The ranch was not at all what she had pictured in her mind. She had expected a rustic, sprawling house, not a mansion that bordered on palatial. When the door swung open, she faced a slender gray-haired man.
“Welcome, Miss Hillman?”
“Yes,” she said, entering as he stepped back.
“I’m Nigel Smith. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Delaney is waiting.”
Following him, she glanced around the enormous entrance. Wood floors had a dark appearance with a treatment that gave them an antiqued quality and probably would not show boot marks or much of anything else.
She tried to finger-comb her hair and tuck tendrils back into the clips that held her hair on either side of her head. She had been warned about Zach Delaney—that he was difficult to please, curt, all business. Actually, he had conflicting descriptions—a charismatic hunk by some; others pronounced him a demanding ogre. She had been told too many times about her three predecessors who hadn’t lasted more than a day or two.
She didn’t care—it was a fabulous opportunity for another promotion in the company and the pay was terrific right at Christmastime. Even though she was going to miss being in Dallas with her family, she was determined to cooperate with Zach Delaney and be the secretary who got to stay.
Nigel led her through an open door into a large room with shelves of books on two walls, a huge fireplace on another and all glass on the fourth. In a hasty glance she barely saw any of her surroundings because her attention was ensnared by the tall man standing in the center of the room.
His prominent cheekbones and a firm jaw were transformed by a mass of dark brown curls and riveting blue eyes. A black knit shirt and tight jeans revealed muscles and a fit physique. Even standing quietly, he appeared commanding.
Dimly, she heard Nigel present her and she thanked him as he left, but her gaze was locked with the head of her company, Zach Delaney. Her breathing altered, her heart raced and her palms became damp. She felt flustered, drawn to him, unable to look away. For heartbeats, they gazed at each other while silence stretched.
With an effort she offered her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Delaney,” she said. Her voice was soft in her ears.
He stepped forward, his hand closing around hers, his warm fingers breaking the spell she had been temporarily enveloped in. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch. I’m happy to meet you, and it’s Zach. We’re going to work closely together. No ‘Mr. Delaney.’ And please have a seat.” His voice was deep, warm and sexy, an entertainer’s voice.
Feeling foolish, yet unable to control the physical reaction she was having to him, she sat in a leather chair. Another chair was close and he turned it to face her, sitting near her. “I’ve read your recommendations, which are excellent. If you want this job, you’re to move here for the duration of the time you work for me—five, possibly six weeks total. Your weekends are free from one on Friday afternoon until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”
“That’s fine with me,” she replied, thinking someone should have warned her about his appeal. He rarely was in the Dallas office and executive offices were on the top floor. She had never seen him or crossed paths with him before. She had no idea she would have such an intense reaction to meeting him.
“I expect this job to end around Christmas, when my foot heals. You can return to the Dallas office and I will be on my way back to the field.”
“Fine,” she replied, barely able to concentrate on what he was saying for getting lost in vivid blue eyes. His conversation might have been practical, all business, but the look in his eyes was not. Blue depths probed, examined and conveyed a sensual appraisal that shimmied warmly over her nerves. “As I mentioned in our phone call, I’d like to take that week before Christmas and two days afterward if the job hasn’t ended.”
“That’s fine. As far as your duties, you’re here to help with any correspondence or business matters I have and to help me sort through some family papers. My father intended to write a family history. He had old letters and family memorabilia that have been passed through generations, that sort of thing. I volunteered to go through all of it while I’m supposed to stay off my feet,” Zach said, waving his hand toward the boxes of papers nearby.
“The memorabilia should be fascinating,” she remarked. “If your ancestors wrote these letters and sent them, how did they get possession of them again?”
“Good question. They wrote other relatives, sisters, brothers, and as far as I can see, everybody saved every word that was put on paper. There are letters in those boxes that aren’t from Delaneys, but are written to a Delaney who saved it. You’d think one person would have tossed them. If the letter isn’t from a Delaney, there is no reason to keep it.”
“I imagine some were tossed. There were probably more since you had such prolific writers in your family.”
“If I were the only Delaney of my generation, I would simply shred the papers this week because I think they’re junk. Some of the letters date back to the 1800s.”
Horrified at the thought of shredding old letters, she stared at him. “The 1800s? It should be spellbinding to