The Texan's Twins. Pamela Britton

job site, pointing toward where they would drill for water and where she thought the reserve pit should go, he admitted she knew her stuff. He’d cut his teeth on rigs, had spent most of his summers working for his dad. When he was fifteen he’d been part of the biggest oil strike on company record. Listening to her speak was oddly...titillating—as if he were in a foreign country and discovered someone who spoke his own language. A sexy someone. Someone with a mouth that drew his attention over and over—

      “...questions?”

      He realized she waited for him to answer, didn’t know what she’d just asked, and so said the first thing that came to mind. “I think we’ve covered everything.” He added a smile.

      She stared at him like a teacher who’d caught one of her students with a comic book between the pages of a math textbook. “No, we have not covered everything. I just asked you about the access road.”

      For the first time in a long, long while he felt his cheeks color. “What about it?”

      At some point she must have grabbed a tablet from her truck. Jet didn’t remember her doing it. In between watching her mouth and debating with himself on whether or not she had a boyfriend, he’d been a bit...distracted.

      “If you’re not here to play ball, just go on home.” She flipped the cover of her tablet closed. “Go back to rodeo riding or climbing rocks or BASE jumping or dropping out of helicopters or whatever thrill-seeking adventure you have scheduled this weekend. God forbid you should actually work for a living.”

      So she’d heard about his hobbies. Interesting. Except, he wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

      “I work.”

      “At what?”

      “I rodeo full-time.”

      “That’s not a real job.”

      Actually, it was, but he could tell he’d never make her believe it.

      “You’re right.” He swiped a hand over his hair. “It’s not a desk job, and this isn’t my usual vocation. At least, it hasn’t been for a long while. But with my dad out of commission, I was told I needed to help you manage this project and, believe it or not, I have the experience to do exactly that. It’s just gonna take me a while to get up to speed.”

      “Then maybe you should pay attention.”

      “I am.”

      She stared at him as if she could crack his skull open and see inside, and then, finding nothing of interest, shook her own head. “All right, fine. Let’s talk about the road.” She eyed him skeptically. “Again.” She flipped open her tablet once more, sidled up next to him and pointed at the screen. Jet noticed she indicated to a plot map.

      Man, she smells nice.

      “As you can see, the most direct route would be this way.”

      Like a flower garden.

      “But that would mean building a bridge over the wash.”

      Was it shampoo? Or perfume? Or maybe body spray.

      “As you know, bridges are expensive.”

      Why hadn’t he seen her at the office before?

      Because you’re never at the office.

      “It requires engineering and an EIR.”

      It was true, he rarely made more than an appearance at their downtown office, and it drove his family nuts. His father had never really minded his commitment to rodeo before, but lately he’d been dropping hint after hint that Jet needed to play a bigger part in Baron Energies, especially since Brock’s injury. Stupid old fool had climbed on a bull at a seniors’ rodeo and damn near broken his neck. Thankfully, it’d just been a broken leg, but he’d been told to stay off his feet and forced to hand over control of Baron Energies to Jet’s sister Lizzie. His father had been as subtle as a brick ever since, but his sister’s ever increasing girth had sealed the deal. She’d be out on maternity leave soon and his dad had made no bones about Jet stepping in to fill her shoes while she was out of commission. Of course, if Jet had known J.C. was there this whole time, he might have come on board earlier....

      “How long have you worked for us?”

      She slammed the tablet closed, shook her head in obvious disgust, and said, “I’ll have my assistant type up a report and leave it on your desk. I assume you have an office, yes?”

      He didn’t know. He assumed he did. “Of course.” He’d make sure he did.

      “Great.” She turned away before he could say so much as goodbye.

      “Wait!”

      She kept walking.

      Somehow he managed to catch up and then wedge himself between her and her vehicle. “Look, I really am paying attention.”

      She released a disdain-filled huff.

      “I’m listening to every word. Don’t build the bridge. It makes more sense to cut a road coming in from the south. Asphalt is cheaper than steel and an Environmental Impact Report will take months. If it means the laborers will have to drive a few extra minutes to get to the job site, oh, well.”

      She lifted a brow. A blond brow. Must be her natural hair color, unless she dyed them....

      Focus.

      “Pretty sure that’s what you were going to say, which is why I asked the question. You’re good at your job and I’m just a little flabbergasted, is all. You’re young, maybe a couple years younger than me, yet you already have a masters? It took me five years to get my bachelor’s degree in business management. Of course, I was competing on the PRCA circuit full-time, but still. You must have started college in preschool.”

      She clutched her tablet as if she wanted to hit him over the head with it. “I was home schooled,” she admitted. “I started college when I was sixteen.”

      Sixteen!

      “Did my first two years of college from home through a university extension program. Transferred at eighteen to Berkeley. Graduated when I was twenty with a bachelor’s in geology. Spent the next two years working on my masters in engineering. I’m twenty-four and I was hired by Baron Energies right after Lizzie was put in charge, which is probably why I was hired. She understands that a woman can do a man’s job.”

      Yes, his sister did. And J.C. was the same age as him, which made it easier to do the math. “So what have you been doing for the past two years?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “If it took you two years to get your masters that means you graduated when you were twenty-two. I’m just curious what you’ve been doing for the past two years.”

      It was as if he’d turned her into a block of ice, or at least her eyes. “My point is, I’m qualified to do the job.” And her words were the frosty equivalent of “it’s none of your business.”

      Interesting.

      “My sister wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t qualified.”

      “Your sister strikes me as highly intelligent.”

      Unlike you.

      She didn’t say the words, but he could have sworn he heard them. It didn’t offend him. Not in the least. He liked that she didn’t give a fig that he was Jet Baron, Brock Baron’s son, heir apparent to Baron Energies—if his dad had anything to say about it. His last name meant he had his choice of women. And if his last name didn’t work, he could usually charm the pants off the opposite sex with a simple smile. Not J. C. Marks.

      “What does the J stand for, anyway?”

      None of your business, her eyes said.

      “Just-ina leave me alone?” he quipped.

      She stared at him.

      “I