Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!. Pamela Ingrahm

witch was gone to reassure his baby girl of her intelligence and her beauty. Just thinking about his ex-wife was enough to make his neck ache.

      Wade took one last swallow of coffee and threw the dregs from his cup onto the lawn. If he didn’t get busy, Leah would be arriving with her crew to find the pool area a mess and the hot tub still not working. He ignored the funny trip of his pulse at the thought of seeing her again. After all, hadn’t he just convinced himself that there was nothing unusual about his reaction to the curvy brunette?

      As he worked on the pump in its crowded little shed, he reminded himself with each twist of the wrench that he’d better get his libido under control. He might have allowed himself a small fantasy or two at the Griffen wedding, but Leah worked for him now, and he wasn’t about to let any nonsense happen.

      “Excuse me...” a hesitant voice said from the doorway.

      He knew who owned the voice, even though the bright sun backlit Leah’s form and hid her face in shadows. Her full curves cast an intriguing picture, and he was stunned as the desire to find out what her softness would feel like if pressed between him and, say, the nearest wall ripped through him.

      He pulled himself up short, amazed by the suddenness and intensity of his reaction. Hadn’t he just told himself to get his thoughts under control?

      At the rate things were going, this wedding would be the death of him.

      Two

      “Excuse me,” Leah repeated, peering into the dim room. “Do you work here?”

      She groaned when the man stood up and her eyes adjusted from the brilliant sunshine. She felt like a fool for asking Wade Mackey if he worked there, but he was supposed to be out of town.

      “I’m sorry, Wade, I didn’t—”

      “Don’t worry about it.” He stepped outside the pump house with her and retrieved his shirt. “Much to Myra Jo’s disappointment, I try hard not to look the part of the landed gentry.”

      Now there was the unvarnished truth. If there was one thing Wade Mackey looked like, it was a dyed-in-the-wool cowboy. Make that Cowboy, with a capital C, she amended as she watched him slip the blue chambray shirt over his muscular arms and broad chest. Her mouth went dry as she watched his long fingers work the buttons, slowly hiding the enticing view from her.

      “I take it you’re ready to set up for the wingding.”

      Leah nodded, then cleared her throat before adding, “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

      “No bother at all. I was getting the hot tub running before Myra Jo calls in the National Guard to contain the disaster.”

      She tried not to chuckle, but she couldn’t help it. “So is it safe to stand down from red alert?”

      “Yeah, I think so. I was just about to fire things up and make sure. Did you need my help?”

      “Oh, no, I just wanted to be sure it was all right for me to get started. We’ve got a lot to do before the girls arrive.”

      “Help yourself to anything you need. I can call some of the boys up from the bunkhouse if you’d like.”

      “Heavens, no, but thanks for the offer. I wouldn’t dream of taking the men away from their duties.”

      “Their duties are to do whatever I tell them to do.”

      Leah focused sharply on his words. In a second’s span, the good ol’ boy had been replaced by the boss. And she strongly doubted the warning she’d heard had been her imagination.

      “Be that as it may, I have things under control,” she said in a polite tone. There was always some jockeying for position at the start of any job, and Leah had to be careful to establish her inability to be intimidated. Her fleeting hope that Wade’s tenseness at the convention center had been a momentary thing faded as fast as the dew under the sweltering Texas sun.

      “Then I’ll leave you to your work. By the way,” he said over his shoulder as he headed back to his repairs, “get with me before you leave. We need to talk without Myra Jo around.”

      “Fine. I’ll see you early this afternoon and we can visit.”

      Leah walked toward the house to start her crew at their tasks, replaying the last few moments in her head. There was no doubt she had just been ordered—politely, of course—to be available to receive her instructions. Leah had never dreamed she would be working exclusively with Myra Jo. Since the girl’s mother was living in Dallas, it was easy to extrapolate Daddy Wade would be the PIC, otherwise known as the parent in charge.

      Leah found that during the course of the morning she could hardly keep her mind off her coming meeting with him. She directed the luncheon on autopilot, and, thank goodness, everything went off flawlessly. But by the time the last cup of coffee had been served, and Myra Jo and her sorority sisters were lounging by the pool, Leah’s nerves were stretched thin.

      With a trepidation she rarely felt, she went to the house to find Wade. The only person she found inside was a young woman who spoke little English. Leah caught uno momento, por favor and then Señor Mackey. The girl pointed down the hall so Leah smiled and said, “Gracias,” then headed in that direction.

      Instead of finding Wade’s office, however, she walked straight into his bedroom. The decor was unabashedly masculine. From the cream-and-blue curtains to the massive wooden furniture, it emanated strength. The faint smell of toothpaste and aftershave hung in the air. She felt like a fool for blushing as she stared at the rumpled sheets and comforter on the king-size bed, only to have her uneasiness increase when the image of him standing at the sink, shaving, filled her mind.

      She quickly returned to the center of the house, ill at ease with her unintentional snooping, to find an office also carrying Wade’s unmistakable stamp. Although the smell of leather and rich mahogany furniture weren’t uniquely male, in this case she had little doubt who usually sat behind the large desk, his dark head bent over papers stacked in seemingly haphazard piles.

      Her inspection was interrupted by the excited yips of a beautiful border collie. The dog came into the office and danced around Leah’s legs on dainty feet. Leah couldn’t help but grin.

      “Some guard dog you are!” she scolded. The dog was clearly unimpressed, for her hind end only wagged harder as Leah read the metal tag shaped like the state of Texas attached to the collar.

      “Where’s the boss man, Spoiled Rotten? Where’s Daddy?”

      Rotten’s black-tipped ears perked up, and she raced around the desk to jump into the chair.

      “I know this is his office, silly.”

      But the collie merely circled in the chair and barked.

      “All right, all right.” Refusing to believe she was conversing with a dog, Leah sat on one of the two matching wingbacks facing the large desk. After five minutes, she thought about finding the maid again, but decided that would be futile. After five more minutes of crossing and uncrossing her legs, she finally gave Wade’s stand-in a glare.

      “Look, he may be the boss, but that doesn’t give him the right to keep me cooling my heels.”

      Rotten just wagged her tail.

      With a frustrated sigh, she wrote Wade a note and tore the page from her day planner. She included a business card before placing them in a relatively clear space on his blotter. With a final pat on Rotten’s silky head, she went home.

      Her drive was uneventful, but as she neared Austin, Leah began to regret leaving without finding Wade. She couldn’t afford to mess up this opportunity to redeem her reputation, but at the same time, she wasn’t a servant at Wade’s beck and call. She had things to do, and waiting on an autocratic cowboy wasn’t one of them—even if that stubborn cowboy held her career in his hands.

      The phone was ringing when she unlocked the door to her office. She