Chapter One

Caleb Ryder took off his Stetson and wiped the sweat and grime from his brow. He breathed in the crisp country air, when a deep, rumbling sound interrupted his walk from the horse stables to his house. Lifting his hand to block the sun, he looked to the west to see a dusty, beat-up Bronco inching down the driveway, shooting out white smoke and kicking up dirt every few feet.

He glanced at his watch out of habit, even though he knew it was a little after five.

If this was another traveling salesman, he didn’t have the time. Normally he didn’t quit work until at least six, sometimes seven but since Rachel, his full time housekeeper, had up and gotten married on him, he had no one to prepare meals for his men. Almost four weeks had passed and not one single person had answered his ad, so he’d been stuck cooking.

The truck careened through the main gate, sputtered once more and jerked to a halt.

Before he could prepare a mental “get lost” speech, a petite, dark-haired woman with impossibly full lips stepped out of the truck. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. She was his walking, breathing, living fantasy. She pushed her sunglasses back to reveal dark, stunning eyes. Eyes a man could lose himself forever in. Shit, where had that thought come from?

Despite her simple attire, everything about her was graceful, stunning even. Her long, brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and though she wore a clingy turtleneck and jeans, he’d bet anything her outfit, including the sunglasses, cost more than the truck she drove.

Expensive. It was the one word he could think of to describe her. Hell, close up, she even smelled expensive. Something indefinable and erotic teased his nose. Flowery, but not overwhelming. Just enough to make him want more. She must be lost. It was the only explanation.

“Hello, I’m Emma G— Cole.” She coughed and half-smiled as she held out a delicate hand.

It took him a moment to comprehend what she wanted. “Um, yeah, hello,” he grunted and grabbed her small hand in his, then wanted to kick himself. He was nasty, dirty and he smelled like a horse. Literally.

She faltered a bit but was polite enough not to wipe off her hand. “I’m here about the job.”

When he didn’t respond, she continued and he didn’t miss the uncertainty in her voice. “For the cook?”

Was this some kind of joke? She wanted to cook for him and fifteen of his men?

Cowhands and horse trainers? Why would a woman who could easily be a face model want to work in Lake City, Florida, the middle of nowhere? Okay, maybe nowhere was a bit of a stretch but with a population of a little more than ten thousand, it wasn’t an overly active city and he wasn’t even in the city limits.

She shifted her feet and her toothpaste-commercial smile fell. Shit, he still hadn’t given her an answer and he’d been staring a lot harder than was socially acceptable. He cleared his throat but didn’t break her gaze. “Yes ma’am, the position’s still open. I should warn you that it doesn’t pay much but room and board are covered. You’d be in charge of cooking breakfast and dinner for at least fifteen men, five days a week. On weekends, they fend for themselves. You’d also be responsible for cleaning the main house.” He paused and let his eyes trail to her hands. Fine-boned, slim hands that looked like they hadn’t seen a day of hard labor.

She must have noticed his appraisal because she clasped her hands together and clenched them so tightly her olive skin turned white.

“I come from a big Cuban family so I’m used to cooking for large numbers and I have no problem cleaning. As long as you’re not an unusual pig, I don’t foresee any difficulty,” she said in a tone that suggested she was used to bossing people around.

As long as he wasn’t a pig? Oh yeah, she was definitely a princess. And a bossy one at that.

He let out a bark of laughter. Normally he’d do a more extensive interview but what choice did he have? It wasn’t as if people were lining up for the position and he was afraid his men would mutiny if they had to suffer through another night of his cooking. “All right, I’ll have to do a background check, show you the kitchen to see if you think you can handle it, then—”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and set her jaw.

“Uh, no what? You don’t want to see the kitchen?”

“No background checks. I’m not giving you my social security number.” He stood there quietly, watching her, trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head. Desperation and defiance were an odd mix but the emotions played across her upturned face in equal measures. Caleb knew he should just tell her to turn around and leave but something in her deep brown eyes called to his protective nature.

Something primitive and unfamiliar inside him stirred. “Why?” She swallowed but instead of turning and running as expected, she answered. “I just broke off an engagement with someone and my family is less than thrilled with me.

I need space and I need to make it on my own without my family butting in.” After twelve years as a Marine Corps scout sniper, he was better than most at reading people’s faces. If there was one thing he knew, it was if someone wasn’t being straight with him. Her story was good and she obviously thought quickly on her feet but it was a lie. He’d let it slide. For now. “Then why can’t I do a background check?”

“If you run my number, my family will find me.”

“How?”

Her face paled and something flared in her eyes. Something he’d seen on the battlefield more times than he could count. Fear. Real, unabashed, almost tangible terror. “They just would. Trust me,” she muttered and shifted her feet again.

He didn’t respond, forcing her to break the silence. “I know you haven’t had any responses to your ad…”

“How the fu— how do you know that?” he demanded.

A pinkish tinge of color ran across her high, exotic cheekbones. “Alice Delaney told me you were looking for someone and she also said you were the worst cook south of the Mason-Dixon line. So I know you need someone badly and I need a job. Maybe we can strike a deal. I cook for a week and if you’re not satisfied, I leave. You don’t even have to pay me.”

Her mouth snapped shut as if she knew she was rambling and those damn expressive eyes widened expectantly, luring him in. Oh she was trouble all right. No doubt about it.

Caleb was going to tell her to leave. It was on the tip of his tongue. How could he hire someone without any references? And Alice, the owner of Delaney’s Bed and Breakfast, didn’t exactly count. She was close to a hundred and trusted everyone.

All his experience told him this would pan out badly but he wasn’t thinking with his head. No, he was thinking with a much lower part of his anatomy. The part that wondered what was underneath that formfitting sweater. Her breasts were small, just like the rest of her but he’d bet anything she had perfect, pink nipples. Perfect for sucking and kissing. “When can you start?”

Confusion flitted across her features, as if she’d expected him to tell her to leave but it was quickly replaced by a blinding, megawatt smile. “Tonight if you want. If you haven’t already started dinner, I can do it.”

“Don’t you need to go back and get your stuff from Alice’s?” She shook her head. “No. Everything I own is in the truck. If you weren’t hiring, I was going to keep moving north.”

The thought of her driving along the highway at night, by herself, caused that stupid protective urge to jump in his gut again. “Where are your bags?”

“In the back but I can get…”

He didn’t let her finish. He opened the back door and pulled out two large Louis Vuitton bags and he very much doubted they were fakes.

“I said I can—”

Ignoring the sweet scent teasing his nose and her protestations, he shut the door and turned to face her. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Well, no,” she faltered.

“I do.” He turned on his heel and led her up to the main house.

He stalked down the gravel driveway, through the two-car garage attached to the kitchen, slung open the side door and waited for her to enter. As she passed, she glanced at him and for the first time he saw a trace of unease. Good. The more he thought about her situation, or what she’d said of it, the more pissed he got. She’d practically announced that no one except Alice knew she was at the ranch. For all she knew, he could be dangerous.

Which he was. But not to her. Never to her.

But she didn’t know that. What if she’d trusted the wrong person and not him? The thought caused a strange squeezing sensation in his lungs. That stupid protective urge was back.

“You have a lovely house.” Her soft voice startled him out of his contemplations.

“Thank you, my father built it.” He led her down the long hallway to her new living quarters.

His father had built the country style house for his mother forty years ago. Five years before he’d been born and ten before his mother had died. The back side of the house was almost all windows, overlooking a small creek and seventy-five acres of rolling, lush land. The living room and family room had spectacular views perfect for entertaining, which had been his father’s original intention.

They passed the door to the master bedroom on the way to the stairs when a sudden image of Emma flat on her back, naked, long hair pillowed out, framing her face and body, appeared. It had been at least a year since he’d had sex or any interest in sex but now his cock was at full alert. At least his jeans were loose enough to hide it.

The thought of having to share the same roof and know he hadn’t a chance in Hades with her was going to drive him slowly mad. Not that starting something with an employee was something he’d ever done, nor planned to do now. He shouldn’t have hired her. It was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done in fact. Including the rose tattoo he had on his ass after losing a bet when he’d been in the Marines. He inwardly sighed and led her up the stairs.