The Billionaire's Christmas Desire. Janice Maynard

Her breathing altered, her heart raced and her palms became damp. She felt flustered, drawn to him, unable to look away. For heartbeats, they gazed at each other while silence stretched.

      With an effort she offered her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Delaney,” she said. Her voice was soft in her ears.

      He stepped forward, his hand closing around hers, his warm fingers breaking the spell she had been temporarily enveloped in. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch. I’m happy to meet you, and it’s Zach. We’re going to work closely together. No ‘Mr. Delaney.’ And please have a seat.” His voice was deep, warm and sexy, an entertainer’s voice.

      Feeling foolish, yet unable to control the physical reaction she was having to him, she sat in a leather chair. Another chair was close and he turned it to face her, sitting near her. “I’ve read your recommendations, which are excellent. If you want this job, you’re to move here for the duration of the time you work for me—five, possibly six weeks total. Your weekends are free from one on Friday afternoon until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

      “That’s fine with me,” she replied, thinking someone should have warned her about his appeal. He rarely was in the Dallas office and executive offices were on the top floor. She had never seen him or crossed paths with him before. She had no idea she would have such an intense reaction to meeting him.

      “I expect this job to end around Christmas, when my foot heals. You can return to the Dallas office and I will be on my way back to the field.”

      “Fine,” she replied, barely able to concentrate on what he was saying for getting lost in vivid blue eyes. His conversation might have been practical, all business, but the look in his eyes was not. Blue depths probed, examined and conveyed a sensual appraisal that shimmied warmly over her nerves. “As I mentioned in our phone call, I’d like to take that week before Christmas and two days afterward if the job hasn’t ended.”

      “That’s fine. As far as your duties, you’re here to help with any correspondence or business matters I have and to help me sort through some family papers. My father intended to write a family history. He had old letters and family memorabilia that have been passed through generations, that sort of thing. I volunteered to go through all of it while I’m supposed to stay off my feet,” Zach said, waving his hand toward the boxes of papers nearby.

      “The memorabilia should be fascinating,” she remarked. “If your ancestors wrote these letters and sent them, how did they get possession of them again?”

      “Good question. They wrote other relatives, sisters, brothers, and as far as I can see, everybody saved every word that was put on paper. There are letters in those boxes that aren’t from Delaneys, but are written to a Delaney who saved it. You’d think one person would have tossed them. If the letter isn’t from a Delaney, there is no reason to keep it.”

      “I imagine some were tossed. There were probably more since you had such prolific writers in your family.”

      “If I were the only Delaney of my generation, I would simply shred the papers this week because I think they’re junk. Some of the letters date back to the 1800s.”

      Horrified at the thought of shredding old letters, she stared at him. “The 1800s? It should be spellbinding to read about your relatives,” she blurted before she thought about how it might sound critical of her boss’s attitude.

      He smiled. “I suppose it’s a good thing you feel that way because you’ll be reading some of this stuff for me. Anyway, that in general is what I hired you to do. Does this sound acceptable?”

      “Certainly. I’m looking forward to it.”

      “Great. Feel free to ask questions at any time. I’ll have Nigel see about getting you moved in. You were asked to come prepared to move in. Is this what you did?”

      “Yes. I was told to pack for the job because you might hire me and want me to stay.”

      “I’m getting desperate for a secretary. The salary should make up for some of the demands,” he said and she merely nodded.

      “Nigel is sort of jack-of-all-trades around the house. He acts as butler, assistant and a financial manager. You’ll meet more of our staff, who have homes on the ranch.”

      “I wonder if I’ll ever find my way around,” she said as she glanced beyond him toward the hall.

      “Nigel will give you a map of the house. We have an indoor pool and one outside. Feel free to swim after or before work hours. We have a gym, too.”

      “This is a modernized ranch home.”

      “This house has been remodeled many times. The family room was the actual original house, built in the 1800s. Anyway, my grandfather had an elevator installed, so I’m taking it temporarily. You’re welcome to if you want.”

      “Thank you, I won’t need the elevator,” she replied with a smile. “I exercise each day, so stairs are good.”

      “Great. Do you think we can start work this morning in about an hour?”

      “Certainly.”

      As he stood, she came to her feet and followed him to the door. He offered his hand. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch, Emma,” he drawled in a mesmerizing voice that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She shook hands again with him, an electric current flashing from the contact while she looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Dark brown curly lashes framed his mesmerizing eyes.

      “I hope you find your stay here worthwhile,” he said, a dry, professional statement, but his tone of voice, with those blue eyes focused on her and her hand enveloped in his, made her think of sizzling kisses. Realizing how she was staring, she withdrew her hand and stepped back. He turned to walk into the hall to talk to Nigel, nodded at her, and in seconds she left with Nigel to see where she would stay.

      The next hour was a whirlwind of getting unpacked enough to function through the day. To her surprise she had more than a room—it was a suite with a sitting area, a dream bedroom with a four-poster and fruitwood furniture. Dazzled by the lavish quarters, she looked at a bathroom as large as her apartment. The bath held a sunken tub, potted plants, mirrors, an adjoining dressing room plus a huge walk-in closet. She took pictures on her cell phone to send to her sisters. She could imagine how they would ooh and aah over where she was staying. Her paramount concern was how would she work constantly around Zach Delaney. She had heard rumors at the office about how appealing he was, but not from anyone who had actually worked for him. She had talked to one secretary who had spent two days with him and thought he was a monster, piling on work until it was impossible to get done what he demanded. Another secretary had complained about him being silent and abrupt during the day.

      When she saw it was time to go back to meet with him, she smoothed her hair into a loose bun and left her room. Trying to familiarize herself with the mansion, she walked to the study where she had met Zach.

      He sat behind a desk and stood the minute she appeared in the doorway. Once again, she tried to avoid staring. He looked muscled and fit except for his foot that was wrapped in a bandage and in an oversize health shoe. The unruly curls were a tangle around his face, softening his rugged features.

      “Let’s go to the office,” he said, and she walked beside him down a wide hall filled with paintings, plants, side tables and chairs.

      As they entered a large room, she drew a deep breath. It was a dream office with two large desks at opposite ends of the room. Shelves lined three walls and the remaining wall was glass with a view of a small pond and well tended grounds up to a white fence. Beyond the fence were stables, a corral and pasture. Through spacious windows, daylight spilled into the room. Fax machines, shredders, computers and electronic equipment filled each end of the office.

      “That’s my desk,” he said, pointing to the larger one that was polished, ornately carved dark wood. Forming an L-shape with the desk, a table stood at one end. The table held two computers, one of which had dual oversize monitors. Another computer was centered on his desk. Two