2

      “GOOD MORNING, boss,” Teresa Harper greeted enthusiastically as Jessica walked into her office in Buzzard’s Grove.

      “Morning.” Jessica set her briefcase on her desk and smiled at her red-haired secretary. Jessica still had trouble believing Teresa was the same desperate, withdrawn woman who had scurried into the office three months ago, begging for a job, vowing to do whatever necessary to earn money.

      Teresa had lacked spirit and self-esteem and could barely make eye contact without ducking her head and wringing her hands. The poor, distraught woman had burst into tears and spilled her hard-luck story—in between sobs and shuddering gulps. Teresa had escaped an abusive husband, filed for divorce and moved to Buzzard’s Grove to put distance between her ex and herself.

      The woman desperately needed to make a new start, and Jessica felt compelled to help, because she knew what it was like to be alone and frightened and unsure where the next meal would come from, unsure if she was wanted or accepted. Jessica had hired the woman on the spot, though Teresa lacked certain secretarial skills.

      Determined to see that Teresa had a new life, a positive self-image, Jessica had located an efficiency apartment in town, paid the deposit from her own pocket, offered Teresa a few garments from her own wardrobe and won an instant and devoted friend and employee.

      To repay the kindness, Teresa had worked extra hours at the office to hone her skills and made every effort to be courteous and professional while dealing with clients. Once Teresa familiarized herself with business procedures, she fielded calls so Jessica could immerse herself in tallying and balancing accounts. Being the only certified accountant in town brought Jessica more business than she wanted—which was why she was so slow in making repairs around her grand old farm home.

      “Whew, yesterday was a killer, wasn’t it?” Teresa remarked as she handed Jessica a cup of steaming coffee and a homemade cinnamon roll. “I almost lost my cool when that grumpy old coot barreled in here to chew you up one side and down the other because you wouldn’t fudge on his income tax form. For a minute there, I had flashbacks of dealing with my ex. If you hadn’t come charging forward to take on Edgar Stokes I would have been cowering in the corner, reduced to tears.” Teresa smiled. “I truly admire the way you stand up to men and refuse to let them intimidate you. If I keep watching those self-help videos you gave me, maybe I’ll be a force to be reckoned with, too.”

      Jessica bit into the warm cinnamon roll. Her taste buds went into full-scale riot. Not only was Teresa turning into a dream employee, but she really could cook. She brought deli sandwiches for lunch, coffee cakes for breakfast, and Jessica’s mouth watered like Pavlov’s dogs at first sniff.

      “Thanks for the compliment, Teresa. I’ve had lots of practice holding my own against the pushy men of the world. Edgar Stokes was just a warm-up for the annoying character who showed up on my doorstep when I got home last night.”

      Alarm registered in Teresa’s wide hazel eyes. “Oh, my gosh! The man didn’t try to assault you, did he? Do I need to notify Sheriff Osborn? Can you identify your assailant?”

      “Yes, he is my nearest neighbor, who stopped by to voice his displeasure with my exotic animals. No need to call the sheriff.”

      “He didn’t like your animals?” Teresa harrumphed as she walked around her desk to grab her cup of coffee. “I hope you let him have it—in spades.”

      “We pretty much let each other have it—in spades,” Jessica reported, then took another bite of the delicious roll. “The cowboy with the attitude claimed my exotics were disturbing his livestock and he demanded that I pay him for the time and money required to round up his cattle and repair his fences.”

      “Who is this character?” Teresa questioned curiously.

      “Devlin Callahan.”

      “Never heard of him, but then, I’ve only been in town a few months. The man obviously isn’t one of your clients, otherwise I’d recognize his name from your files.”

      That much was true, Jessica mused as she polished off the cinnamon roll, then reached for another. Teresa made it a point to familiarize herself with every client on file. Devlin Callahan was not, and never would be, on file. Jessica would refuse to handle Rocking C Ranch accounts, even if Devil Devlin asked her nicely—and she seriously doubted he was capable of that. The less she had to deal with Callahan the better she’d like it.

      “Oh, look! There’s that nice Sheriff Osborn now,” Teresa said. She pointed a red-tipped finger toward the window. “He’s in the parking lot at Good Grub Diner. Want me to hustle over there and register a complaint for you? I wouldn’t mind a bit, you know.”

      Jessica pivoted, her mouth wrapped around the scrumptious cinnamon roll, then choked for breath. Devlin Callahan stepped from his four-wheel-drive, fire-engine-red pickup truck and approached the sheriff. No doubt that black-eyed monster was following up her suggestion of taking complaints to the sheriff. Jessica couldn’t say she was surprised to see Callahan bending the sheriff’s ear. He certainly had bent hers during their shouting match last night, and she had let that arrogant cowboy have it with both barrels blazing.

      Unwillingly, Jessica’s assessing gaze drifted over Devlin’s striking profile. The man was just too darn good-looking, she mused. If life was fair and just, Devlin’s appearance would be as offensive as his personality. Jessica couldn’t say exactly why she had reacted so unfavorably to Callahan at first glance. There was something about him that brought her feminine defenses to code-red alert. She supposed she found herself unwillingly attracted to the big galoot and went to extremes to offend and repel him.

      Okay, so maybe she had gone overboard in an attempt to prove to him, and to herself, that she didn’t like the looks of him. After her fiasco with Rex the ex she resolved never to be taken in by a handsome face and magnificent male body. Rex, as it turned out, had all the emotional depth of a bar of soap. She suspected Devlin was the shining example of same-song-second-verse.

      It didn’t help the situation one iota when she suffered a knee-jerk reaction to Devlin’s explosive temper. He irritated her, so naturally, she made a supreme effort to return the favor.

      “Wow, who is that guy talking to the sheriff?” Teresa asked, her nose pressed to the windowpane. “He looks like a movie star or something. Is he handsome or what, boss?”

      “That’s Callahan,” Jessica reported. “Don’t be fooled by his good looks. He can be a fire-breathing dragon when the mood strikes. He’s probably tattling to the sheriff as we speak, trying to convince Osborn to pressure me into relocating my exotic animals, because God-Almighty Callahan doesn’t want me infringing on his cattle kingdom.”

      DEVLIN WAS INDEED airing his grievances to Sheriff Osborn at that very moment—for all