The Cowboy's Million-Dollar Secret. Emilie Rose

lie. He’d heard his father pacing the floor because he’d also been awake thinking about the Double C’s new hostess. He couldn’t do her job and his, too, if she didn’t measure up.

      He couldn’t afford to be attracted to her.

      “Why don’t I run you by the clinic this morning and get the doc to check your blood pressure?”

      “I ain’t going to the doctor. Won’t get nothing but a little bottle of pills and a big bill.”

      “You can’t put a price on your health, Pop.”

      “Tell that to those bandits.”

      The muscles in Patrick’s neck knotted. They’d had this argument a dozen times. Nothing short of an ambulance would get Jack Lander to the clinic. “How about taking it easy today? The heat index is going to be up there.”

      “You take it easy if you want. I got work to do.”

      “Caleb gave me the name of a couple of college kids. I hired them to help here while I’m managing the dude ranch.”

      His father scowled. “Can’t afford it.”

      “Caleb’s paying me enough to cover both salaries.”

      “You hired your brother’s rejects?”

      He gritted his teeth, counted to ten and wondered if he should have his own blood pressure checked. “The kids are majoring in animal science at Tech, and they need on-the-job experience. Helping them helps us.”

      “Well, I ain’t interested in baby-sitting greenhorns.”

      Talking was a waste of breath when his father was this tetchy. “I’m heading over to the Double C. Keith and John will be here by nine. I’ll be back to get ’em started.”

      Arguing with his father before his first cup of coffee guarandamnteed he’d start the day in a foul mood. Patrick headed for his truck and took out his frustrations on the gearshift during the short drive to the property next door.

      The Double C had been a part of Crooked Creek until a decade ago when Caleb’s first wife had nearly bankrupted them. They’d been forced to sell half the ranch to keep from losing the entire spread. The new owner had opened a dude ranch which Brooke had bought right out from under their noses a few months back. And then Caleb had married her. Worse, his brother had fallen in love—an affliction Patrick planned on fighting all the way to his grave.

      His newest sister-in-law had crazy ideas about operating a motivational retreat. City-slickers getting in touch with their inner souls, or some such hype. Caleb had convinced her to try running a dual operation for a year, but Patrick worried that her motivational thing would take off and she’d phase out the dude ranch.

      He was probably the only one who hoped she wouldn’t decide to close the dude ranch portion of the Double C. His brother and his father preferred ranching, but for him working with the dudes was like summer camp—a little grit, but mostly fun. Each week brought new faces and a fresh crop of enthusiasm. It beat the heck out of riding drag and eating dust behind a herd of cattle. Besides, the dudes actually begged to do the dirty work. It left him feeling a little like Huck Finn when he pawned off his chores.

      He glanced at his watch as he parked in the shade beside the barn. None of the crew was due until after lunch. Since the next batch of guests would arrive tomorrow, he’d have to work his tail off today. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish.

      He stomped up the back porch stairs of the Double C homestead.

      “Good morning.”

      He whipped around at Leanna’s husky greeting. She lay curled in a lounge chair in the far corner of the porch with Brooke’s mangy mutt Rico at her side. With her hair mussed and hanging over her shoulders, she looked soft and sleepy. And sexy. He slammed the door on his wayward thoughts.

      “You’re early. Trying to score points with the boss?”

      She smiled up at him. “Would it work?”

      He couldn’t help but grin back. “Nope. Beating me to work makes me look bad.”

      She scratched the dog behind his ragged, partially chewed-off ear and cupped the mutt’s face. “Rico won’t tell. Will you, boy?”

      You had to like a gal who’d befriend a butt-ugly dog. He dug in his pocket for his key and unlocked the door.

      “Brooke said you’d give me keys and introduce me to everyone.”

      Evidently, Brooke and Caleb had made him social director before they’d left last night. Brooke wasn’t handling mornings well in the first trimester of her pregnancy and preferred not to travel early in the morning.

      “Should be a set of spares inside.”

      Leanna unfolded in increments as if her muscles were stiff. He thought it a little odd considering her age—or lack of age. “You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet.”

      As soon as the words came out of his mouth an image formed in his mind—an image that had nothing to do with mistreating a horse. Down boy. He shoved open the door and motioned her to go ahead.

      “Uh…no, just a strange bed. Do you mind if I make coffee?”

      He followed her into the kitchen, wondering if the lack of caffeine was causing his mind to wander in the wrong direction. “Go ahead.”

      She searched through the cabinets looking for the fixings. Each time she reached up, the strip of skin between the waistband of her baggy pants and the hem of her loose butter-yellow T-shirt widened.

      His hormones obviously realized he was fixin’ to hang’em out for a long dry spell and were already rebelling.

      With enormous effort he yanked his gaze away and reached past her for the coffee. His chest brushed her shoulder. Her hip nudged his. By the way his body reacted, she might as well have jumped on the kitchen table and started a bump-and-grind strip show.

      Damn, he needed coffee. And a cold shower. He shoved the can into her hands and hustled across the room before he gave in to the urge to see if her skin felt as warm and smooth as it looked.

      “Thanks.” Her voice sounded a little husky.

      He squinted at her. Was she having as hard a time catching her breath as he was? Get your head outta the gutter and back on business, Lander. “You and Brooke handled all the paperwork yesterday?”

      She scooped coffee grounds into the filter and smiled at him. “Yes, and she explained the dude ranch schedule. Guests arrive on Saturday and stay through Wednesday afternoon. The staff has Thursday and half of Friday off.”

      “Why’re you early?”

      Her cheeks looked flushed, but it was probably just a reflection of the sunrise coming through the window. “I need to familiarize myself with where everything is before we get caught up in the guests’ arrival.” She stretched to put up the coffee.

      He caught another glimpse of skin and inhaled, but it wasn’t coffee he smelled—not unless Brooke had switched to a prissy vanilla-scented brew. Suddenly it struck him that he and Leanna were the only ones in the house. Clearing his throat, he wiped a hand across his face. The bristles reminded him that in the rush to avoid another argument with his father he’d forgotten to shave.

      “She gave you the uniform?”

      “Yes, but she said I didn’t have to wear it until tomorrow and then only for the first two days to help the guests identify me as an employee. Can you tell me where Rico’s food is kept?”

      “Laundry room.”

      She called to the dog and walked out of the room. Patrick caught himself tracking her—or rather the hip-rolling motion of her tight, round hind quarters, and shook his head. Label the gal off-limits, and danged if he didn’t develop a one-track mind.

      Quit thinking about