His Valentine Bride. Cindy Kirk

why working for him made absolutely no sense. Seeing him every day would be a dream come true and her worst nightmare. He’d be nice to her. She didn’t doubt that in the least. But to have someone see you as only an employee when you yearned for him to see you as a desirable woman, well, it was bound to be difficult.

      Still, she’d had a lot of experience handling challenging situations. Hadn’t she survived a childhood with an alcoholic mother and an absent father? The bottom line was she needed a job. She had to have money to pay her bills and to replace the red-tagged furnace at the house she’d inherited from her aunt.

      While she hoped the medallion in her pocket would bring good fortune, she wasn’t counting on it. That would be foolhardy. Betsy had always been a firm believer that God helped those who helped themselves. And that’s just what she was doing by interviewing for this job—tossing a Hail Mary and hoping for a touchdown.

      Squaring her shoulders, Betsy stepped from her parked car, then paused at the curb to straighten the cuffs of her best camel-colored suit. Because the temperature was a balmy forty-two degrees, she’d slipped on a tan all-weather coat instead of her thick fur-lined parka, the one her brother said made her look like an Eskimo.

      The snow from the small storm two days ago had already begun to melt, turning the streets into a slushy mess. Yet the sky was a vivid blue and Betsy reveled in the feel of the sun on her face.

      She let her coat hang open and started down the sidewalk toward Ryan’s office. Even though she tried to walk slowly, all too soon the frontage for his office came into view. She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Arriving ten minutes prior to an interview was appropriate. Twenty minutes early smacked of desperation.

      While she might indeed be desperate, Betsy certainly didn’t want to give that impression. Perhaps it’d be best if she relaxed in her car a little while longer.

      She abruptly turned back in the direction of her vehicle, her mind consumed with the upcoming interview until her heel caught in a crack, plunging her forward.

      A tiny cry sprang from her throat as the sidewalk rushed up to greet her. At the last second, a man reached out and grabbed her.

      His hands were strong, pulling her to him, steadying her. The chest he held her against was broad. She lifted her head, the words of sincere thanks already formed on her lips. Then she saw his face. Suddenly Betsy found it difficult to think, much less speak. Finally she found her voice. “Ryan?”

      He smiled. That boyish, slightly crooked grin was guaranteed to make a woman’s heart skip a beat. It was hard to imagine she’d been in Jackson Hole all these months without their paths crossing. Actually that wasn’t quite true. She’d seen him at a local sports bar a week or so ago, but he’d been too busy flirting with a couple of ski-bunny types to notice her.

      Even from a distance, it had been apparent the years had been good to him. Despite being a regular on the rodeo circuit during his college days, Ryan was one of those guys who only got better with age. He was slender, just as she remembered, but now with a man’s broad shoulders and lean hips. His dark hair brushed his collar and tiny laugh lines edged his eyes.

      She let her gaze linger a second longer on the crush of her youth packaged in gray dress pants, a charcoal-colored shirt and dark topcoat. After a moment all she could see were those beautiful silver eyes that a girl, er, woman, could get lost in….

      “Betsy?” Her name sounded like a husky caress on his lips.

      She shivered but not from the cold. In fact, she felt positively warm. Okay, hot. His arms remained around her. Betsy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to him. It felt … nice.

      “Are you okay?” His beautiful eyes were filled with concern.

      She managed a nod and the lines of worry between his brows eased.

      “I was on my way to the office,” he said. “I saw your name on the interview list and didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

      Even though prior to running into him she’d barely walked ten feet, her breath now came in short puffs. Every inch of her body sizzled.

      “Until I received your application I didn’t know you’d moved back.” As if realizing he still held her in his arms, he stepped back and let them drop to his side.

      Betsy resisted the urge to pull him close again. Instead she forced a smile. “I’ve been here almost three months. I was working at Dunlop and Sons, but they cut back on employees.”

      She saw no reason to mention that Chad Dunlop had wanted to fire her. Only some quick thinking and determination on her part had kept her work reputation intact.

      Ryan tilted his head, confusion furrowing his brow. “Hearing that firm is downsizing surprises me. I thought they’d be adding personnel, not cutting back.”

      “It was a surprise to me, too.” Betsy lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug.

      He took her arm and they continued down the street in the direction of his office.

      Despite the layers of clothing between them, Betsy’s arm tingled beneath his touch. She found herself slowing her steps, wishing his office wasn’t so close. She’d like to prolong this time for a few more minutes. But it seemed as if they’d barely started walking when they reached the glass storefront of his law practice.

      To her surprise, Ryan kept walking.

      She glanced back over her shoulder. “Wasn’t that your office?”

      “I thought I’d do the interview at Hill of Beans.” He opened the wooden door, stepping aside and waving her ahead of him. “After your altercation with the sidewalk, I’m sure you need a hot chocolate or a latte to steady your nerves.”

      Betsy fought back a rush of pleasure. Going to Jackson’s newest coffee shop with Ryan made this feel more like a date than an interview.

      For a Tuesday, the coffee shop—known for its fabulous selection of beverages and bakery items—was surprisingly busy. Although Betsy insisted she wasn’t hungry, Ryan got a large piece of coffee cake for them to share as well as two cups of hot cocoa.

      Once they were settled in a booth by the window, Betsy expected him to start rattling off questions. She’d been through so many interviews in the past couple of months that she doubted there was anything he could ask that would catch her off guard.

      “I was sorry to hear about your mom.”

      Okay, he’d surprised her. Betsy couldn’t remember the last time anyone had mentioned her mother. When she was small, everyone was always commenting on the resemblance. Back then, Betsy had been proud to be compared to her beautiful mother.

      It wasn’t until she got a little older that she realized her mother wasn’t pretty. Not on the inside anyway.

      “She was drunk when she hit the telephone pole,” Betsy said in the unemotional tone she’d cultivated over the years. “The police said she was going seventy. She barely missed a kid on a bike.”

      “She was your mother,” he said softly. “Her death had to hurt.”

      Betsy didn’t say anything.

      “Is that why you moved back to Jackson?” His large hands encircled the tan coffee mug. “To settle her estate?”

      “What estate?” Betsy gave a little laugh. “All she left was a bunch of bills.”

      She wondered what Ryan would think if she told him the reason she’d stayed in Kansas City until now was because she’d refused to move back to Jackson Hole as long as her mother was here. He should understand. After all, as a friend of her brother, Keenan, he’d witnessed Gloria’s out-of-control drunken rages.

      “I’d wanted to move back for some time,” Betsy said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And Adrianna Lee has been encouraging me to ‘return to my roots’ for years.”

      Ryan’s eyes took on a gleam