Mysterious Mountain Man. Annette Broadrick

seeking the professional calm that carried her through her daily working routine.

      The gravel made walking in heels difficult. She picked her way carefully across the dusty expanse. The last thing she needed was an injury of some sort out here in this godforsaken wilderness.

      She was relieved to reach the smoother surface of the picturesque porch, which held a cluster of chairs—straight-backed and rockers—and a couple of tables. She glanced around her, perplexed by the evidence of her own eyes. Had Jake Taggart actually grown up in this area? In no way did it fit the image of the man she remembered.

      The sagging screen door protested with a squeal when she pushed it open and stepped inside.

      Her appearance seemed to have frozen the few occupants in the room into suspended animation. Every eye seemed to be trained on her. A casually dressed man and woman occupied a nearby booth with two small children. The little girl sat in a high chair at the end of the table, while the boy was perched on a booster seat beside his father.

      All four stared at her as though she’d just stepped off a space ship and was there to make inquiries of the local inhabitants.

      The woman behind the counter stood with a forgotten coffeepot in her hand, her eyes round as she stared at the newcomer.

      Only the cowboy in the back seemed uninterested in her. He sat with his chair leaning against the wall, balanced on two legs, as though he had nothing better to do than to hang around a café all day. His thick black hair was worn too long, brushing his collar and tumbling across his forehead. He’d glanced at her when she’d first walked in, then he’d looked away as though unimpressed, while casually twirling a pair of sunglasses by one of the earpieces.

      Rebecca gripped her briefcase tighter and approached the woman behind the counter.

      “Good afternoon, miss,” the woman said before Rebecca could speak. “Are you here for lunch?”

      Intent on her mission, Rebecca paused, feeling a little off-balance. For the first time in several hours she realized she hadn’t eaten since she’d left home. She took in the room in another sweeping glance before replying.

      “I—uh—yes, actually, that would be nice.”

      She was a little irritated with herself for not thinking about eating here. The woman must think her ridiculous to appear surprised to be offered a meal in a café. What, after all, had she expected? She certainly hadn’t walked into a lending library!

      Rebecca noticed an empty booth in the back and had started toward it before she realized that she would be sitting near the cowboy. She certainly hoped he didn’t think she was trying to get his attention!

      Taking another firm grip on her briefcase, she straightened her shoulders slightly and continued toward the back of the room without looking at anyone.

      “Hello, Rebecca,” a deep voice drawled from somewhere close by.

      She spun around, almost losing her balance. How could anyone here know who she—? Only one person could possibly recognize her. Her gaze darted around the room before she made eye contact with the cowboy, who continued to watch her without moving from his comfortable, laid-back position.

      For the first time since she’d entered the café Rebecca really looked at the man leaning his chair against the wall.

      “Jake,” she whispered almost to herself as she stared at him. Her breath seemed caught in her throat. Whatever her expectations had been for this trip, finding Jake within moments after her arrival had never crossed her mind.

      He took his time looking at her, allowing his gaze to wander from the top of her head, lingering over the trim-fitting suit, before pausing on her now dusty pumps.

      Eventually his gaze met her eyes. “What brings you to these parts?” he drawled. “Did you make a wrong turn somewhere?”

      In the year since she’d last seen him, Rebecca had forgotten how his low voice had always caused her spine to tingle in a most unexpected and unprofessional way. The tingle was back, darn it, and they’d barely exchanged any words. She stood taller in an effort to combat her unwanted reaction to the man.

      The waitress spoke from directly behind her. “You can sit anywhere, miss. Just pick a spot and light.”

      Rebecca glanced around at the waitress just as she heard the other two legs on Jake’s chair hit the floor.

      “She’ll take the back booth, Betty,” he said, straightening in slow motion to his full height. “Bring her Mel’s special. Let’s show the city lady what down-home cookin’s all about.”

      Gently he touched Rebecca’s arm and guided her over to the booth. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she numbly slid onto the bench seat, staring at him as he sat down across from her.

      This long-haired, unshaven cowboy was Jake Taggart? She could scarcely believe the evidence of her own eyes. What had happened to the man in the business suits and ties with the professionally styled hair and freshly laundered shirts?

      Nothing about this meeting was going as she had planned. She hadn’t tried to guess how she’d find him or where a meeting between them would take place but this unexpected encounter had left her reeling. All of the remarks she’d carefully planned to say to him had left her mind.

      While she was frantically searching for a light remark, Jake said, “Betty, I’d like you to meet Rebecca Adams. She works for CPI Enterprises in Seattle.” He glanced at Rebecca out of the corner of his eye before adding, “Besides being the head of the personnel department, she’s the boss’s daughter.”

      He glanced back at her, no doubt waiting for her reaction to his remark. Since he wasn’t the first person through the years to imply that she held a responsible position in the company only because of her father, she chose not to comment.

      She really didn’t care what Jake Taggart thought of her. She knew she was good at her job. She didn’t owe anyone any explanations or apologies for the position she held.

      When she remained silent, he continued. “Betty and Mel own the restaurant. They serve the best food west of the Mississippi.”

      Rebecca noticed the older woman—Betty had he called her?— blushed like a schoolgirl. But then, Jake seemed to have that effect on most women—even her, darn him—despite her determination to keep a professional distance between them. How could she have forgotten this man’s charisma? Hadn’t she once accused her father of being unduly influenced by Jake’s magnetism as well as his professional expertise?

      “Pleased ta meet cha, Ms. Adams. What would you like to drink?”

      “I think I’ll have—”

      “They don’t have any of your herbal teas, ‘Becca, and the coffee is chock-full of caffeine,” Jake drawled, deliberately baiting her.

      Ignoring him, she smiled at Betty and said, “Coffee sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

      Betty hurried away, presumably for a cup since she was still holding the pot of coffee in her hand. Jake, meanwhile, turned sideways in the booth—his back resting against the wall, his elbow on the table, and his long legs stretched along the length of the bench seat.

      Rebecca folded her hands together on the table and studied them in an effort to organize her thoughts.

      “You never said what brings you to these parts, ‘Becca.” The slight tilt of his mouth revealed his awareness of her efforts at control.

      She lifted her gaze to meet his. Thankfully, to her, her voice sounded steady when she replied, “That should be obvious, Jake. I came looking for you.”

      Two

      Jake studied her for a long moment. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then, she never could. This man continued to be an enigma to her. Despite her working knowledge of human nature, she’d never been able