Seduction and the CEO

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You planning to flirt with him?” Jarred pressed. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He didn’t know anything about this woman.

  She emphatically shook her head. “He likes to travel. I like to travel.” Her words came faster. “I was thinking you could be right. Maybe I should find a real job and save up some money. I mean, seeing America is fun and all, but it might be fun to see some of the rest of the world—”

  “In my brother’s jet?”

  “No. No.” She smoothed her hair back again. “I’m not going to flirt with your brother. I just thought…”

  Jared waited. He truly did want to know what she thought.

  She let go of the fence rail and took a step forward. “I thought he might be a lot like you. Smart and interesting.”

  He stared down as she moved closer. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” But what he really couldn’t believe was that it was working. She was flirting with him, using her pretty face and killer body to gain an advantage. And it was working.

  He was pathetic.

  “You misunderstood,” she told him in a soft voice. “I have no designs on Royce. I don’t even know Royce. And if my mission was to land myself a rich man, do you think I’d be scooping horse poop on a ranch in Montana? No offense, Jared, but Manhattan is a whole lot closer to Gary, and their per capita count of rich eligible men is pretty darn high.”

  Jared watched her soft lips as they formed words, took in her feathery hair lifting in the light breeze, her bottomless green eyes, almost a turquoise, like the newly melted water of a glacial lake. She was stunningly gorgeous and intriguingly intelligent.

  “So how stupid do you think I am?” Her voice dropped off into silence. The thuds of Tango’s footfalls echoed around them.

  “I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Jared admitted. “That’s the problem.”

  Melissa had overplayed her hand.

  Sitting at the end of a long table in the quiet cookhouse, spooning her way through a flavorful soup, she knew she’d made Jared suspicious. She should never have asked to meet Royce. And she should have been content to let him think she was slow-witted.

  Her enthusiasm for getting the story, along with her stupid ego, had both gotten in the way. She’d just had to show off her knowledge of Bosoniga and Tappee. Like some schoolkid trying to impress the teacher. “Bosoniga has a stable monarchy,” she mocked under her breath. Why didn’t she just wave her university degree under his nose and challenge him to guess why she was out on the road playing vagabond?

  She dropped the spoon into her soup.

  Was she trying to sabotage the story?

  “Melissa?” Someone slid into the chair next to her, and Melissa looked over to see Stephanie set a white stonewear cup on the table.

  At two in the afternoon, the cookhouse had grown quiet. Faint voices could be heard from the pass-through to the kitchen. Coffee, biscuits and oatmeal cookies were still available on the sideboard in case anyone needed a snack. And a helper was setting the three empty tables for dinner.

  “Hello,” Melissa greeted Stephanie politely.

  The younger woman’s auburn hair was pulled back in her signature ponytail. She’d removed her riding helmet, but still wore the white blouse, tight jodhpurs and high boots that were the uniform of a show jumper.

  Stephanie grinned happily. There was a freshness about her, Melissa thought. Maybe it was the freckles or maybe it was the complete lack of cosmetics. Or it could have been the perky upturned nose. But Stephanie looked young, carefree, almost mischievous.

  “I saw Jared helping you with Tango,” she began, her expression friendly and open as she turned the cup handle to face the right direction.

  Melissa nodded, even while her stomach tightened with guilt. She couldn’t help but like Stephanie, and she was sorry the woman was caught up in her charade.

  “It was very nice of him,” Melissa acknowledged. Then she paused, choosing her words carefully. “My horse skills are…” She let out a sigh, feeling like a heel for lying to Stephanie in the first place. “I guess, I, uh, exaggerated my skill level when I first talked to you.” She cringed, waiting for the reaction.

  But to her surprise, Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.”

  Melissa gazed at her. “But—”

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to shovel manure.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Nah.” Stephanie lifted the stonewear mug and took a sip of the steaming coffee. “I imagine people exaggerate on their résumés all the time.”

  “I guess they do,” Melissa agreed, relieved—yet again—that she wasn’t about to get fired.

  “So what do you think of him?”

  “Tango?” Was Stephanie going to try to get her to ride the horse?

  “No, Jared.”

  “Oh.” Melissa caught the speculative expression in Stephanie’s eyes. Oh.

  Oh, no.

  This could not be good.

  “He seems, well, nice enough,” Melissa offered carefully. Truth was, she thought Jared was demanding and sarcastic. Okay, in an intriguing, compelling, sexy kind of way.

  Stephanie nodded cheerily. “He’s a great guy. Lots of women seem attracted to him. I mean, it’s hard for me to tell, being his sister, but I imagine he’s pretty hot.”

  Melissa turned her attention back to her soup. “He’s a very attractive man.”

  “You should have seen the woman he dated last weekend. They had their picture in the paper in Chicago. She was a knockout. A lawyer.”

  Melissa spooned up a bit of soup. She was not going to be jealous of some smart knockout lawyer in Chicago. Who Jared dated was absolutely none of her business.

  “I told him he should see her again. But he’s not interested.” Stephanie gave a shrug. “So, really, he’s not committed in any way, shape or form.”

  Melissa fought a smile. Again, there was an endearing quality to Stephanie. She was probably only four or five years younger than Melissa, but she seemed so innocent and untarnished. Maybe it was from living in the protected world of rural Montana.

  “Honestly, Stephanie, I think I frustrate your brother.”

  Stephanie shook her head. “We can change that.”

  “I’m only here for a few days, remember?” The last thing Melissa needed was for Stephanie to give Jared a reason to avoid her. And she sensed that was exactly what would happen if he guessed his sister’s intentions.

  “He thinks you’re pretty.”

  The assertion took Melissa by surprise.

  “He told me,” Stephanie continued. “The first time he saw you.”

  “This is a bad idea, Stephanie. Jared and I are from completely different worlds.” And she was spying on him. And he was going to despise her in about three weeks when the article hit the newsstands.

  “So were my parents.”

  “Stephanie, really.”

  “My dad was a rancher, and my mom grew up in Boston.”

  Melissa knew this was exactly the point where she should press Stephanie for some information. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “My mom was gorgeous and classy. Blonde, like you.” Stephanie sighed. “I wish I looked more like her.”

  “But you’re beautiful,” Melissa immediately put in, meaning it completely.

  Stephanie wrinkled her little nose. “I have freckles and red hair. And, you know, I haven’t bought myself a dress in three years.”

  “Well, that’s easy to fix.”

  “I bet you own a lot of beautiful dresses.” The speculative look was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

  “Very few,” said Melissa. She pinned Stephanie with an earnest expression. “Promise me you won’t do this, Stephanie.”

  Stephanie reached out to grasp Melissa’s forearm, taking a careful look around the room. “I can be very discreet.”

  Given the woman’s exaggerated spy-versus-spy room check, Melissa sincerely doubted that.


  “I’ll chat you up a bit,” Stephanie continued. “You are gorgeous, and I can—”

  “Jared is not, I repeat, not interested in me. You’ll only embarrass us both if you try to match us up.”

  Stephanie took another sip of her coffee, a dreamy faraway expression in her eyes. “I promise, Melissa. I won’t do a single thing to embarrass you.”

  Five

  M elissa had waited all morning for a chance to privately warn Jared about Stephanie’s matchmaking plans. She could hardly walk up to the front door of Stephanie’s house and knock. And Jared, as far as she could tell, hadn’t come out of the house.

  Standing over a tub of water in the tack room, she had a decent view of the front porch. Her hands were red and slippery from the glycerin soap, but at least the job was straightforward: wash the tack, dry the tack, polish the tack. She’d worked her way through a decent-size pile of leather.

  When lunchtime came along without a sign of Jared, she started to worry. If Stephanie was already matchmaking, he was probably plotting his escape from the equestrian center. If she didn’t do something soon, there was every possibility that he’d leave before she got anything more for her story.

  She had to find a way to get hold of him.

  She clicked through the possibilities in her brain until finally she came up with a viable plan. If she could somehow get her hands on his cell number, she could talk to him without Stephanie knowing.

  She pulled her hands from the warm water, shook them off and dried them on a towel. Her cell phone was in her taupe canvas tote bag, and it didn’t take her long to get directory assistance and the Chicago number for Ryder International. The receptionist put her through to Jared’s assistant.

  “Jared Ryder’s office,” said a friendly female voice.

  “I need to speak to Jared Ryder,” Melissa opened, hoping the office would give her his cell phone number.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Ryder is not in the office today.” The voice remained friendly and professional. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Do you happen to have his cell phone number?” Melissa mentally crossed her fingers that the woman would be willing to give it out.

  “I’m afraid I can’t provide that information. Is there someone else who can—”

  “Would you be able to get a message to him?” Melissa moved to plan B.

  Some of the patience leached out of the woman’s voice. “Can I get your name, please?”

  “So you can get him a message?” Melissa’s hope rose.

  “He may not get it until next week.”

  “I need him to get it today. Right away if possible.”

  “If I could just have your name.”

  “It’s Melissa. Melissa Webster.” She used the alias she’d used on her résumé.

  “And what is the message regarding?”

  Good question. Melissa racked her brain. She sure couldn’t say she was a reporter, but if the subject didn’t seem important, the secretary might not send it to Jared right away. “Saxena Electronics,” she offered impulsively.

  “You’re from Saxena?” The skepticism was clear.

  Melissa could only assume most Saxena employees had East Indian accents. “I’m affiliated with them,” she lied. “The message is that Melissa Webster needs to talk about Saxena right away. In private,” she added, ending with her cell phone number.

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Please believe me that it’s important,” Melissa put in quickly.

  The woman hesitated on the other end of the line.

  “There’s no risk,” Melissa pointed out. “If it’s not important, he’ll just ignore it, right?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Maybe a quick text or an e-mail?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” The voice had turned stony.

  It was definitely time to back off. “Thank you,” said Melissa with as much gratitude as she could muster. “I really do appreciate this.”

  The professionalism and the formality came back. “Thank you for calling Ryder International.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Melissa offered once more before hanging up.

  Then she plunked her phone back in her bag, readjusted the clip that was holding her hair back and pulled her damp tank top away from her chest. She hated to go to lunch looking like this, but it was a long walk back to her cottage, and there was no way she could skip the meal.

  As the days went by, her respect for cowboys and stable hands had risen. They worked extremely hard. A salad or a protein shake might cut it in an office, but out here, calories were essential.

  She dried the last of the washed tack, laying it out on the bench to be polished later. Then she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder and headed for the cookhouse while she waited to see if Jared would call.

  A couple of steps out the stable door, Jared startled her, blocking her way. She stopped short.

  “What the hell?” he demanded.

  She glanced around. “Is Stephanie with you?”

  “What was this about seeing me in private?”

  She didn’t see Stephanie anywhere. “I’ll explain in a minute. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  Jared hesitated. Then he nodded at the stable. “There’s an office up those stairs.”

  “Great.” Melissa turned, and he followed her in.

  They tapped their way, single file, up the narrow staircase. It opened to a short hallway with three doors.

  “Far end,” Jared rumbled. “And this better be good. My secretary was scrambling the Saxena team for damage control. She thought you were warning me of a hostile takeover.”

  Melissa cringed. “Sorry. Did you call them off?”

  “Of course I called them off.” His boots were heavy on the wood floor behind her. “This better not be some flirting thing.”

  “It’s not flirting.” Melissa stopped at the closed door.

  Jared reached around her and pushed it open to reveal a small desk, a couple of filing cabinets. Three open, curtained windows showed a cloud-laden sky, and a comfortably furnished corner with armchairs, low tables and lamps. Through the window, Melissa could see a crowd of people at the arena. She assumed it was a jumping class and that Stephanie was there.

  “Take a seat.” Jared gestured to a worn, brown leather armchair.

  Melissa sat down, and he took the chair next to it. They were separated by a polished pine table, decorated with three small, framed horse portraits.

  He leaned back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and folding his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked directly.

  Melissa took a deep breath, giving herself a second to compose her message. “It’s Stephanie.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “She lost patience with you? Fired you?”

  “No.” Melissa sat forward. “Will you let me finish?”

  He waited.

  “Your sister, for some reason, has decided I’m…well, a good match for you.”

  Jared planted his feet and sat forward. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing. This is about her, not me. I was minding my own business. She saw you helping me yesterday. Apparently the first time you saw me you said I was pretty.”

  “I never—”

  “Well, Stephanie thinks you did. And she’s a determined and romantic young lady, and she thinks she can subtly throw us together without you noticing. I was guessing you’d catch on, and I thought you’d appreciate a heads-up.”

  Jared’s mouth thinned into a grim line. His hands moved to the arms of the chair, and he gave his head a subtle shake. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  Melissa waited for him to elaborate.

  He fixed his gaze on her. “If she’s targeting you, things are really getting out of hand.”

  “Excuse me?” Melissa couldn’t help the defensive tone in her voice. “I’m the bottom of the barrel?”
r />   “No, you’re not the bottom of the barrel.” He paused. “But you’re definitely from the unlikely half of the barrel.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “The last person she targeted was a lawyer.”

  Melissa nodded. “She told me.”

  “Just how long was this conversation?”

  “Not long.” Melissa shifted back in her chair. “For the record, I tried to talk her out of it.”

  Jared’s expression turned thoughtful, and he glanced toward the window and out to the arena. “Did she seem…upset?”

  Melissa shook her head. Stephanie hadn’t seemed remotely upset. “I’d call it enthusiastic, even excited.”

  He stood up and walked toward the closest window, looking through the opening to the crowd in the distance. “It’s about Sunday.”

  Melissa stood with him. The clouds were thickening in the sky and the wind was picking up.

  “It’s got to be,” he continued.

  “What about Sunday?” she dared to ask.

  Jared kept his gaze glued outside. “The twentieth anniversary of our parents’ deaths. And the first time my grandfather won’t be here to commemorate it with us.”

  Melissa took a few steps toward him. “Your grandfather died?”

  Jared nodded. “In April. It hit Stephanie pretty hard.”

  “I can imagine,” Melissa said softly, her sympathy going out to the whole family.

  “Look at her jump.” Jared nodded toward the arena, and Melissa shifted closer to where she could watch Stephanie on her big gray horse.

  “Perfect form,” he continued as the two sailed over a high, white jump rail. “She’s talented, driven, unbelievably hardworking. Only twenty-two, and she’ll be a champion before we know it.”

  “Then she was only two when your parents died?” Melissa ventured.

  “Only two,” Jared confirmed with a nod, and his voice turned introspective. “And despite her success, all these years all she ever wanted was a mother.”

  Melissa didn’t know what to say to that. Her own parents had moved to Florida only a couple of years ago. She saw them every few months, but she still missed her mother.

  “I don’t blame her,” she offered.