Lead Me Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis

and throat were bronzed by the sun, which presented a nice contrast to the blue denim Western shirt he wore. She didn’t allow her gaze to travel lower in case he’d think she was giving him the once-over. She’d save that for when he wasn’t looking right at her.

      Aurelia’s boss wasn’t small at five foot nine, but this man made Sarah Chance look dainty. Sarah tucked her sleek bob, which she’d allowed to turn its natural white, behind her ears as she smiled at Aurelia. “Here’s the magician who’s going to solve our problems with Houdini. Matthew Tredway, may I present our cook, Aurelia Smith.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand, which was engulfed by his much larger one.

      His handshake was warm, and so was his smile. “Same here. I asked Sarah if you might have some leftovers for me. I haven’t eaten much all day.”

      She’d seldom taken such an instant liking to someone, but Matthew had the square-jawed look of a man a girl could count on. “I’ll be happy to fix you something.” She couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face, either. Her girlfriends had talked about instant sexual chemistry, but she’d thought they were imagining things because she’d never felt it before. In less than sixty seconds, Matthew Tredway had made a believer out of her.

      Too bad she and Matthew were both only temporarily in the same place, but at least now she understood what her friends back home had been talking about. It really was like being struck by lightning, as evidenced by her pounding heart.

      Before she’d fully processed her feelings, a commotion erupted in the main part of the house. Young male laughter and good-natured taunts, coupled with the sound of feet thumping on the stairs to the second floor, indicated the teenagers had returned from town.

      Sarah glanced at Matthew and Aurelia. “If you two will excuse me, I’d better go check on the kids.”

      And Pete. Aurelia got such a kick out of watching the sixty-something couple. Anyone would think they were teenagers themselves as they held hands and shared a brief kiss now and then. Sarah had been widowed nearly three years ago, and her sons seemed happy that she’d found someone like Pete.

      As Sarah headed out of the kitchen, Aurelia remembered her duties as the ranch cook. “Do you think the boys will want an evening snack? I have some roasted figs left.”

      Sarah turned back to her. “If I know Pete, he bought them all a slice of homemade pie at the diner, so I think they’re set for the night. Thanks, though.”

      “Just wanted to make sure.”

      “I’d take some of those roasted figs,” Matthew said.

      Aurelia glanced at him. “Not until you’ve had a proper meal.” When Matthew laughed, she realized how anal that had sounded. “Sorry, I’ve been dealing with teenagers for a week. If you want dessert first, you certainly can have it.”

      “That’s okay.” His smile creased his tanned cheeks. “I’ll wait on the figs.”

      She had the insane urge to stand on tiptoe, clutch that smiling face, and plant one right on his gorgeous mouth. He was way too handsome for his own good.

      But kissing him after knowing him for five minutes wasn’t a great idea. Instead she walked over and clicked the oven knob before opening the industrial-sized refrigerator. “Then I’ll warm up the leftover brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons we had for lunch.”

      “My French is pretty sparse, but I think I’ve had that before.”

      She turned, the foil-covered platter in her hand, and stared at him. “You have? I’ve never met anyone who’s eaten it before.”

      “Tell me what’s in it and I’ll know for sure.”

      “Kidneys, liver and bacon on a skewer.”

      Matthew nodded. “That was my guess. Sounds great.”

      “Where did you have it?” Now she was nervous. Maybe the version he’d eaten had been better than what she’d fixed today.

      “A restaurant on the Left Bank.”

      “In Paris?” Now she was really nervous.

      “Yes. Ever been to France?”

      “No. I’m not really into travel.”

      “You’re not? Why?”

      She shrugged. “I like the comforts of home too much, I guess. Traveling just doesn’t appeal to me.”

      “But you could sample the food cooked by natives.”

      “I’d rather try making it at home myself.” She wished she’d offered him something else, but too late for that now. Transferring several skewers to a baking dish, she flicked on the oven and slid the dish inside to heat. “But since I’ve never tasted the real thing like you have, my version may not be what you’re used to.”

      “I’m sure it’ll be terrific.”

      “I hope so. Reheated won’t be quite the same as when they were first broiled.” She gathered up her cookbooks so he’d have a place to eat. “Go ahead and sit.” Then she had an inspiration. “Would you like some wine? It’s not French, but Sarah always keeps some good California reds on hand.”

      “Only if you’ll have a glass with me.”

      “Well … okay.” She knew Sarah wouldn’t mind. She’d have a little, to be hospitable. “Be right back.” She opened the door to the walk-in pantry and ducked inside. Once there, she dithered over the wine selection, trying to imagine what a man who’d been to Paris would prefer.

      “Want me to pick one?” Matthew walked into the pantry and the space instantly shrank.

      “Um, sure. That makes sense.” She stepped away from the wine rack, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go. Once he moved in front of it, they were practically touching. The small space filled with his scent—a crisp, manly aroma that jacked up her pulse rate.

      She became aware of his steady breathing as he pulled out a couple of bottles, checked the labels and moved on. She was afraid they weren’t to his liking. “I know it’s not a huge selection.”

      “No, it’s great! I just don’t want to drink up the pricey stuff.”

      “But you should! Take the most expensive bottle! From the way everyone’s talked about you, they’d be honored for you to have it.”

      “I don’t know what they’ve said, but the truth of the matter is that I’m an ordinary guy who can drink six-dollar wine and be perfectly happy. Here we go.” He pulled out a bottle and showed it to her. “This will do fine.”

      She took a shaky breath and hoped he couldn’t tell how his nearness affected her. “If you’re sure.”

      “I am.” He gestured toward the pantry door. “After you, mademoiselle.”

      Dear God, he even said it with a French accent. She brushed past him, aware of every point of contact with his solid body. She couldn’t tell if he was attracted to her, too, but it really didn’t matter.

      He was here to train a horse and he’d spend his evenings at the bunkhouse, according to what Sarah had said. Tonight might be the only time she’d be alone with him for the rest of his stay. Considering they were from completely different worlds, that was probably for the best.

       2

      SHE WAS DYNAMITE, the ultimate definition of the word hot. Matthew wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d walked into the kitchen to meet Aurelia Imogene Smith, but it certainly hadn’t been a blonde with a drop-dead figure and eyes that sparkled like dew on spring leaves.

      He understood immediately why nobody had criticized her food. Besides being great to look at, she was earnest about her job and achingly vulnerable in her need