Lead Me Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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super-sexy, male. “I was a little worried that my brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons wouldn’t be up to his standards, but he liked it.”
“He told me he did.” Sarah filled their plates and brought them over to the table. “He also said that he’d get a kick out of consulting with you on future menus.”
“Did he?” Aurelia did her best to act mildly interested while her heart thumped so fast she worried that Sarah would hear it. If he’d mentioned that possibility to Sarah, then the menu-planning sessions were still on. And if the menu-planning sessions were still on, then so was the possibility that they’d become lovers.
But she didn’t want Sarah to suspect any of that. “How do you feel about Matthew helping me with my job?” she said as casually as possible.
“Whatever he wants works for me.” Sarah sat down and spread her napkin in her lap. “It was a coup getting him here in the first place. He’s in demand all over the world, and we’re fortunate he took us up on our offer.”
Aurelia had figured out that Matthew was a rock star among horse people. If she thought for even one second that Matthew was the sort of man who took advantage of his position to get women, her infatuation with him would end.
But he wasn’t like that. When the heat between them had threatened to consume them both, he’d left, because it was too soon, too fast. Obviously from his actions, he’d proved that he had standards and scruples. That made him even more irresistible to her.
Sarah buttered her toast. “The more relevant question is, what do you think of the idea? For the time you’re at the Last Chance, this is your kitchen, and you may not want some six-foot-five cowboy invading your space and making suggestions.”
Oh, but she did. And the suggestions could range far beyond the subject of food preparation. She wasn’t an idiot, though. Whatever they shared would be brief, an interlude in both of their lives that would never be more than a memory to savor. But she wanted that memory.
Until she’d accepted Mary Lou’s offer, she’d never left Nebraska. Her family didn’t travel, and Mary Lou was the only relative who lived more than a hundred miles away from Aurelia’s home town. Her aunt’s honeymoon cruise, which included a trip through the Panama Canal, was unimaginable and frightening to the rest of the family.
Aurelia had inherited that same reluctance to travel, so the trip to Jackson Hole might be the biggest adventure she’d have in her entire life. Matthew Tredway might be as close to a rock star as she’d ever get. If he wanted to invade her kitchen—or her bedroom—then she would fling open the door and let him in.
None of that, however, would be part of her answer to Sarah. “If getting involved with the menus interests him, then it’s fine with me,” she said. “With his background, I trust him to give good advice.”
“Great. That’s settled, then. As he mentioned to me, he won’t be training Houdini at night, so that would be a good time to come up to the house and consult with you about the food for the next day.”
“That’s fine.” More than fine. They’d have the kitchen to themselves.
Sarah gazed at Aurelia over the rim of her coffee cup. “I want to make sure you don’t have a problem with Matthew doing this. I promised Mary Lou I’d watch out for you, so if this makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll shut him down. I want to make him happy, but not at the expense of my staff’s morale.”
And that, Aurelia thought, was why Aunt Mary Lou idolized Sarah Chance. She was loyal to those she’d committed to, and even a big-deal horse trainer celebrity didn’t take precedence over the welfare of her staff, including someone like Aurelia, who would be here such a short time.
Sarah couldn’t know that Aurelia lusted after Matthew Tredway. If Aurelia had her way, Sarah would never know, but that was probably unrealistic. Even though Aurelia had been on the ranch a relatively short time, she’d figured out that Sarah was tuned in to almost every aspect of ranch life. Hardly anything got past her.
Right now, Sarah was waiting for an answer to her question. Would Aurelia object to having Matthew, aka muscular hero, show up every evening to discuss the next day’s menu? Hardly. But she didn’t want to appear too eager, either.
“Let’s try it for a night or two and see how it goes,” Aurelia said. “If it’s not working out, I’ll let you know.”
“Perfect.” Sarah tackled her breakfast in earnest. “My main concern is Houdini, of course. I hope Matthew’s able to turn that horse around. If it relaxes him to think about food and menus every evening, so much the better. But he’s here to train Houdini, and that’s the primary goal. Houdini’s a valuable stud, and we’re not getting the income out of him that we need to. We also hope to train him as a cutting horse eventually. Matthew’s supposed to make him a joy to deal with.”
“I’m sure he will.” What Aurelia knew about training horses could fit on the head of a pin, but she could feel Sarah’s frustration with a horse that wasn’t earning his keep. Matthew had been hired to cure what ailed Houdini, and as the new kid on the block, Aurelia wasn’t about to mess with that.
4
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, as Aurelia had begun gathering her ingredients and spices for the ratatouille, Matthew appeared in the kitchen. He was a very different Matthew from the one she’d seen the night before. This one wore an old T-shirt that was splotched with sweat and dirt, a T-shirt that strained at the seams over spectacular biceps, pecs and deltoids.
Yesterday’s shirt had somewhat disguised his physique, but this one left nothing to the imagination. He’d been wearing his hat when he’d come through the door, but he took it off to reveal hair that had a tendency to curl when he was hot and sweaty. Two damp tendrils lay across his forehead.
Caught up in the glory that was Matthew, she could barely remember her name. But she sure as hell remembered his, and imagined the joy with which she’d call that name in the midst of a spectacular orgasm. It was quite a vivid picture for ten-thirty in the morning.
“I could use some carrots,” he said, seeming distracted. “Or if you don’t have those, apples will work.”
“I have both, and good morning to you, too.”
His smile was sheepish. “Sorry. When I’m working, I have a bad habit of getting tunnel vision. And speaking of that, there was something else I wanted to ask you about. What was it?” Frowning, he gazed at the floor and tapped his hat against his denim-covered thigh. His jeans were more worn and formfitting than the ones he’d had on the night before, too.
“Did you want to discuss what time you’ll be coming to the house tonight?”
He glanced up, his gaze now focused and intent. “Sarah talked to you about that?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop looking at him. She wanted to walk over, peel the shirt from his body and lick the sweat from his powerful chest. Who needed whipped cream with a guy like Matthew?
“You’re okay with that plan?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He held her gaze for a long, hot moment. “Just checking.”
Her toes curled inside her running shoes. She knew exactly what he was checking. He wanted to find out if she’d had a change of heart following their mutual admiration society the night before. He wanted to know whether she was willing to see where this sexual chemistry might lead them.
“I think it’s a fine idea,” she said, in case he had any doubts about her feelings. “I’m ready for whatever suggestions you want to make.” That was a little bolder in the double-meaning department than she’d intended, but she let the statement stand.
The effect on him was instantaneous. A flame leaped in his blue eyes and he took an involuntary step forward. Then he paused as if he’d belatedly