The Last Lone Wolf / Seduction and the CEO. Maureen Child

along with the homemade soup. I know soup isn’t a very substantial meal, but with the fresh bread and the pasties …”

      He held up one hand. Clearly extreme measures were needed if a man was going to get a word in edgewise. “You made fresh bread?”

      “It’s just a couple of loaves of quick bread.” She sounded almost apologetic. “That way I didn’t have to wait for the yeast to rise.”

      “Right.” She’d only been here a few hours and she’d made soup, bread and this incredible pie he couldn’t stop eating. Kevin was a good enough cook, but he didn’t have half the drive this one small woman did. Plus, he wasn’t exactly adventurous with his cooking, which was, frankly, one thing Jericho had liked about him. But, if this pasty of hers was any indication, he had a feeling “adventures in food” was going to be a good thing.

      And, he had to admit, she might look like a flighty little thing, but she sure as hell wasn’t afraid to work. She’d done more in a couple of hours than Kevin managed to do in a day. To be fair, Kevin probably would have enjoyed doing more, but cooking for a bunch of men probably sucked the creativity out of him. Daisy was still fresh enough that she was excited about her work.

      While she talked, Jericho nibbled on the raw vegetables, surprising even himself. He’d always been more of a meat-and-potatoes man by choice. And frankly, being in the military had pretty much flattened his taste buds long ago. Food there was fast and plentiful. Cooked to keep a man on his feet, not to have him lounging around a table tempting his palate. But whatever kind of dip this was she’d concocted for the vegetables was damn tasty and the pie was good enough it could bring a grown man to his knees.

      As if she could read his mind, she wagged her index finger at him and said, “You’ll like my soup, too. Soups are actually one of my specialties, which will work out really well up here during the winter.”

      “What kind of soup?” he grudgingly asked, since he was being tempted by the satisfaction filling his stomach at the moment.

      She turned around, went back to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot again. Steam rushed up, carrying an amazing scent. “It’s beef and barley. I found all of the supplies in the fridge and the pantry and it’s so brisk and cold out right now, I thought soup would be good for tonight.”

      “It’ll be fine,” he said, already looking forward to sampling it as he finished off the pasty and wished he could get another one.

      “I have got great recipes for tomato soup and chicken and leek—”

      “Leek?”

      She glanced at him. “You’ll like it, I swear.”

      He probably would, he thought and warned his stomach not to get used to the good life.

      “Anyway, when it snows up here, there’ll be lots of good, hearty soups and breads and stews. Then in summer, you’ll love my barbecued chicken wraps and—”

      He cut her off before she could get too wound up. “Don’t be making long-term plans just yet.”

      “Affirmations, remember?” she countered with a grin. “As for dinner, I’ll do even better tomorrow night. What would you like? Pot roast? Pasta? Chicken enchiladas? Do you have any favorites?”

      God, his mouth was watering just listening to her. Between her looks and her abilities with a stove, she was definitely double trouble.

      Then she stopped and whirled around to look at him. “Better—what do you hate?”

      A reluctant smile curved his mouth. Hell, he had to give her points for tenacity. He’d given her an inch and she was quickly scrambling to take the whole damn mile. He admired that in anybody. And for a woman alone, fighting to make a place for herself, it took even more guts to stride right in, settle herself and immediately go to work carving out her own niche.

      But as much as she wanted this job, heck, as much as he’d like to get accustomed to eating this well, he couldn’t let that happen. For her own sake.

      And he almost regretted that fact.

      Almost.

      There’s not much I won’t eat,” he finally admitted. “But we’re not interested in anything fancy up here. I’ve gotten used to eating simple, plain food. Plus, it’s better for the clients when they’re here. Roast beef is going to give a man more energy on the mountain than a plate of snails.”

      “Ew. Snails.” She smiled and shuddered. “No worries in that department, I promise.”

      “Okay, good.” He finished off the pasty and thought about grabbing another as he watched her move around the kitchen. She sure as hell looked as if she knew what she was doing. Of course, he’d read her references, but tasting what she could do with food was different than reading about it.

      He nibbled at the carrot and celery curls, dipping them in the accompanying sauce. She was a good cook, but that didn’t mean she would make it here. Hell, he told himself, look at her.

      His gaze locked on her, he noted her delicate but curvy build. Her hair was in a ponytail that swung back and forth across her back like a pendulum with her movements. She was humming something just under her breath and when she opened a cupboard and reached for something, Jericho was treated to a glimpse of very pale, very smooth skin displayed when her blouse hitched up.

      His mouth went dry and his blood stirred. Damn, it had been too long since he’d indulged in a long weekend of sweaty sex. And now that that thought had taken root in his mind, he was picturing Daisy Saxon in his bed, that thick, soft hair of hers spread across his pillow. Her smile aimed at him as he moved in for a long, languorous kiss. Her breath sliding from her lungs as he entered her.

      Instantly, he shut down that train of thought and squirmed uncomfortably on the bar stool. He didn’t need her here. Didn’t want her here. Couldn’t have her here.

      Three

      “It’s amazing,” Daisy whispered, almost as if she were in church. She’d awakened early—too many years of getting up and moving in the restaurant business—and after getting dressed, she’d taken Nikki outside to enjoy the mountain quiet. Her little dog was off exploring the yard and all of the shrubbery, leaving Daisy alone in the shadows.

      Now, she was standing on the lawn, staring back at the house and realizing that in the pearly morning light, Jericho King’s log and glass mansion looked almost like a fairy-tale castle.

      She’d been too busy yesterday finding her way there and then falling on her face to notice much about the place. Her gaze swept over the façade and another murmur of appreciation slipped from between her lips. Wide balconies stretched along the second floor, with arched, twig-style railings. Behind those balconies, glass panels soared, allowing views of the tree-studded mountain and the lake in the distance.

      The lodge itself was surrounded by tall pines, and the wind whispering through the branches sounded like sighs.

      “It’s a good place, all right.” Jericho’s voice rumbled from right behind her and Daisy jumped.

      “I didn’t hear you come up.”

      “I walk quietly. Tend to in the woods.” He stared up at the house as dawn painted the honey-colored logs with rosy hues.

      She nodded but silently guessed that his stealthiness also came from so many years spent in the military. “Well, it’s so quiet here anyway, it’s as if you’re afraid to make too much noise. I feel almost as if I’m in church or something. In the city,” she said on a sigh, “there’s always noise. Cars, trucks, sirens. Here … stillness.”

      “One of the things I like best about it,” he said.

      “I can see why,” she agreed. “I get tired of the crowds and the hustle and bustle myself. Somehow everything always seems to be rushed down in the city. Being here is almost like being on vacation!”

      “Except