Mr. Predictable: Mr. Predictable / Too Many Cooks. Carol Finch

decided she could take lessons from the good-natured sorrel. She’d become extremely twitchy while Jake was ambling around the cabin in his towel, looking so incredibly appealing that she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. When he brushed up against her, his arousing touch and the scent of him bombarded her. The very last thing Moriah needed was to become more aware of that man than she already was. The prospect had disaster written all over it in flaming letters.

      Well, she’d just have to concentrate on keeping an emotional distance, she lectured herself as she mounted the buckskin.

      Fifteen minutes later, Moriah tethered the horses beside Jake’s cabin, then climbed up the steps. Before she could rap on the door, it swung open.

      Jake frowned curiously as she offered him the red rose clasped in her hand. “What’s that for?”

      “I deliver a rose to each guest every morning,” she informed him with a cheery smile.

      “Don’t tell me, let me guess. We’re supposed to take time to smell the roses along the pathway of life.”

      “Very astute, Jake.” She eased past him to retrieve a vase from the cabinet.

      Moriah glanced over her shoulder at the table, then blushed when she remembered the disaster she’d caused because she got so rattled when she walked in on Jake while he was draped with a towel. “Is the pup okay? He didn’t suffer any glass cuts, did he?” she asked, striving for a casual tone.

      “He’s fine. No harm done. And by the way, why did I get this fuzzball of a dog for my companion when I noticed your other guests have more manly pets? I’ve seen a Doberman, a chow and a German shepherd trailing behind some of the guests. I get the wuss dog that has a thing for skunks. Thanks so much, Mo.”

      Moriah set the rose on the table and pasted on a smile. “Don’t take it personally, Jake. The pup is a new arrival and so are you. Besides, those supposed watchdogs you mentioned turned out to be wimps. That’s why their owners foisted them off on the animal shelter. You raise your voice to the Doberman and he cuts and runs scared.”

      Jake gave her the once-over as she headed for the door. “Nice outfit, Mo. I see you’re impersonating a flower garden today.”

      “And you’re wearing ho-hum green,” she noted.

      A wry grin pursed his lips and he waggled his eyebrows at her. “Only on the outside. Inside I’m hot-to-trot red.”

      Moriah felt heat rising to her cheeks. Having seen Jake in a towel made it infinitely easier to visualize him wearing his flashy briefs. That was not a good thing. “Well, that’s a start in spicing up your life, I’d say,” she said breezily. “Shall we go riding?”

      “Can’t wait,” he enthused. “I feel the overwhelming need for the speed you’re so fond of.”

      “I was planning a leisurely ride so we could get to know each other better.”

      “No, you’re planning to lecture me,” he said perceptively, then swept his arm toward the door. “Let’s get this show on the road, Mo. We’re burning daylight.”

      4

      JAKE AMBLED toward the horses. “So what’s up with your loud clothes? I’ve already figured out they’re a disguise of sorts.”

      Moriah missed a step. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Why are you begging my pardon? You haven’t offended me in almost five minutes,” he said flippantly.

      “I just happen to like colorful clothes,” she replied as she mounted the buckskin.

      “Aw, c’mon, Mo. I’m not as stupid as I look.” Jake swung effortlessly onto the sorrel mare. “For some reason, you don’t want the male of the species to notice how attractive and well-built you are. That wild wardrobe is not so much an attention-grabber as a clever distraction. So is that perky, bubbling facade of yours. I wonder if anyone at Triple R has ever actually met the real Moriah Randell.”

      Moriah felt her temper rising when Jake tried to pick her apart. Then she realized she’d just experienced what he must be feeling when she tried to impose her unfamiliar beliefs on him. Willfully, she focused on remaining cool, calm and collected. “No need to worry about me. We’re here to discuss methods of altering your routines and improving your life, remember?”

      “How can I forget? You harp at me every chance you get. So what’s your story, sugarplum?”

      This man was going to be even more trouble than she originally anticipated. Her other guests arrived here, keyed on themselves, anxious for suggestions and solutions to their stress. Not Jake, damn him. In an effort to keep the focus off him, Jake poked and prodded into her psyche. Well, if opening up to him promoted his willingness to relax and confide in her, then so be it. Refusing to answer his questions might leave the impression that she was as obstinate and unapproachable as he was. One mule-stubborn individual around here was plenty.

      Moriah led the way to the path that skirted the river and formulated her thoughts. “My story is nothing earth-shaking,” she began as she settled comfortably on the saddle. “I spent a great deal of time caring for my ailing mother during adolescence, while my father worked long days and made numerous business trips. When my mother died, my dad dealt with his grief by taking on even more projects that kept him away from home.”

      “So you didn’t have the opportunity to run fast and loose as a teenager,” he presumed.

      “No, caretakers are rarely allowed that privilege,” she agreed, smiling ruefully. “By the time I entered college I had a solid background in caregiving and nursing. I also liked to dabble in psychology and I developed an interest in stress management, after watching Dad run himself ragged. After I graduated I worked as the assistant director of stress management for several corporate firms in Oklahoma City.”

      “If you were doing what you were trained to do, why did you leave your job?” Jake asked, watching her astutely.

      Moriah squirmed uneasily in the saddle. “Because I…” Her voice fizzled out. She drew a deep breath, ignored her humiliation and blurted out, “Because I got my heart broken and I wanted to make a new start.”

      “Good enough reason,” Jake remarked. “Who was the jerk?”

      Moriah relaxed enough to chuckle. After five years, she could be a little more objective. Plus, Jake took her side without question, which made her feel better about herself. “He was my boss. A blond Adonis who could charm women—especially the naive ones like me—into believing he was the quintessence of Mr. Right. He took advantage of my willingness to share the workload and handle paperwork, which made him look good to his corporate clients. I thought all the attention he showered on me meant he felt the same way I did.”

      “But…?” he prompted as he eased the sorrel up beside her.

      “But he didn’t,” Moriah murmured. “Turns out he was bed hopping with three other women in the office. I was supplying him with all the spare time needed for his personal version of recreational pursuits. I realized that the only relationships I knew anything about, the only kinds I excelled at, were the ones built on someone else’s need and dependence on me. I know I’m shamefully inadequate as a serious marriage prospect.”

      Jake glanced over at her and frowned. “How’d you arrive at that conclusion?”

      Moriah shrugged. “Because it made sense. I was never really wanted for myself, only what I could provide in the way of help and assistance for others. In short, I grew up learning to be there for someone else.”

      He snorted in disagreement. “You’re selling yourself short, Mo. Like I said, you’ve got the looks, brains and outgoing personality, despite those loud clothes.”

      “Maybe so, but I always end up attracting people who depend on me for emotional and physical support. I’m like an ambulance to