Her Texan to Tame. Sara Orwig

he dressed, he thought about the interviews today. None had been someone he wanted to hire, including Jessica. Jessica would be trouble at best because if she could cook beyond burgers, she had an ex-husband who wanted her back and parents who also wanted her to return. If they showed up to try to talk her into moving home, he would be involved. He was attracted to her, but he wasn’t going to seriously date her or any other pretty woman. He had too much fun making friends and flirting with a passel of willing females.

      Yet in spite of the complications accompanying her, he had allowed her to stay and cook as a trial run.... He didn’t want to analyze that move.

      No, he told himself. He had an out. If dinner was not particularly good, he would simply not hire her. He’d tell her goodbye and send her on her way.

      Why did he have a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about that? Because he was sorry for the troubles she had had.

      “Yeah, right, Ryan,” he said softly to his reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t lie to himself. He wanted to go out with her. Sparks flew when he was with her and both of them were trying to keep their employer-employee relationship, or whatever they had, professional and unemotional. It never happened. The slightest physical contact was electrifying. He wanted a night out with her. He wanted to hold her and kiss her; he wanted to seduce her. She took his breath away with her looks.

      The woman had emotional problems from her bitter divorce. She needed peace and solace—not someone hot for her.

      Ryan lectured himself about his motives and tried to steel himself to get rid of her because they both would be better off. And should she persuade him to let her stay, he needed to leave her alone. Stay away from her, go back to Houston and his work and let her mend and go on her way.

      Maybe he’d look her up when she got over her divorce.

      On impulse he went to the phone to call his friends the Jimsons. Brad answered and Ryan talked to him briefly, checking out Jessica to learn if her friendship was what she had said and the Jimsons had recommended she come to the ranch to apply for a job as his cook.

      He then spoke to Pru and after a few minutes hung up. Jessica checked out. Now it all hinged on dinner. If dinner wasn’t any good, was he really going to get rid of her?

      He had told Pru about the trial meal. She had laughed and said she guessed he would hire Jessica. He suspected Pru was basing that guess on Jessica’s looks and his friendships with pretty ladies.

      He walked downstairs and headed to the kitchen. Enticing smells of beef and hot bread lured him to the room. He heard singing and a pan clattering and water running. His pulse sped and eagerness to see Jessica gripped him.

      He stopped in the doorway, his insides in a clutch while he noticed several things at once. She was not in a panic, running frantically around the kitchen trying to get dinner together. The kitchen was neat and orderly, and she had tidied up from cooking. Her pale blond hair was secured in a ponytail, tied with a scarf that matched her dress. She had her back to him while she slid a covered platter into the warming drawer in the oven. He wanted to walk up to her and slip his arms around her tiny waist, but he knew better than to do any such thing.

      “It smells wonderful in here,” he said in a husky voice that he couldn’t change.

      She turned and gave him a radiant smile that revealed her dimple. Right then he admitted to himself, cook or no cook, there was no way he could send her packing.

      “Dinner is ready.”

      “How about a drink with me first outside? It’s a beautiful evening. We could forget employer and employee for a few minutes without it hurting anything.”

      “That’s crossing a line,” she said, frowning slightly and studying him.

      “Doesn’t have to. We can just sit, enjoy the evening, talk a little and relax. You’ve been cooking in a hot kitchen.”

      Her frown disappeared. “Not exactly slaving over a hot stove.”

      “Maybe not, but this won’t be disastrous and we don’t have to cross a line.”

      “Still, I don’t think you usually have drinks and dinner with your staff, do you?”

      As he shook his head, he grinned. “I don’t usually have a gorgeous single woman on my staff. For just a minute, can we drop being strictly professional? I don’t want to upset you in any way, but you asked the question.”

      “It’ll be a little difficult to remain strictly professional if I have a drink with you on your patio. I can’t quite address you as ‘Mr. Ryan’ the way Gwen does either.”

      “I hope not. That’s her doing. I’ve told her to call me Ryan, but she insists. Her husband calls me Ryan, but Gwen won’t. I’m not going to argue the point. They’ve worked for me several years now, but they’ve also worked for my older brother Adam, so they’ve known me for years.”

      “And thank you for the compliment.” He received another smile that revealed her dimple.

      “C’mon. Sit with me and have a drink. If you get uncomfortable, we’ll come in and have dinner. Deal?”

      “Sure, Ryan.” Even hearing her say his name was as tangible as physical contact and stirred desire. He was having a strong reaction to her and he was digging himself in deeper every second by letting her stay, by asking her to have a drink with him. Was he on a track to seduction and reluctant to face up to his own motives? Guilt assailed him because Jessica was emotionally vulnerable. Surely he had no intention of taking advantage of her...but she was damned difficult to resist.

      “What would you like? I’ll get drinks,” he said, his voice going husky again, a telltale sign of his desire.

      “I think I’ll have iced tea. I’ve already made a pitcher.”

      “Tea for you, a cold beer for me.”

      “I set the table inside, but I can move things to the patio, if you prefer,” she said as he got ice and then poured tea from a pitcher sitting on the counter.

      “No, we’ll eat indoors.” Walking farther into the kitchen, he saw the table, set and ready.

      “Very nice. Here’s your tea,” he said, handing her the drink and touching her slender fingers as she took the glass—another slight touch that heightened attraction. He was amazed that he had such an intense reaction to so many insignificant brushes with her.

      He got his beer and held the door for her to go outside. It was a cool June evening with no wind stirring. She sat facing the formal garden and he pulled a chair close to hers. The full skirt of her dress hid her legs almost to her slender ankles.

      He raised his bottle to her. “Welcome to Texas. May you like your stay.”

      Smiling, she touched his bottle with her glass lightly and sipped her tea before setting her drink on a small table beside her chair.

      “I’ll admit I hope you hire me, because I think this is what I’m looking for. This is a perfect place for me to heal, to get over my divorce. If you don’t hire me, though, I understand, and I’ll head north, maybe to Montana or Wyoming.”

      “I don’t think you have to plan on driving to Montana or Wyoming. We’ll work out something. I talked to Brad and Pru. You come highly recommended,” he said, fighting the temptation to move his chair closer. He wanted to flirt with her, ask her out, kiss her. Seduce her. Instead, he had to be polite, distant, professional. Only friendly, nothing more. He suspected she would be a daily torment working for him because he would constantly be fighting himself. Even knowing that, he couldn’t turn her away. One look at her and he wanted her to stay.

      “They’re close friends, particularly Pru, so of course they would give me a good recommendation. The best references as far as my work will be the ones I listed and gave to you today because those are people I’ve worked with on volunteer projects. Those and two names I have from the cooking school I attended. I enclosed letters