by Honey Jans
"I'm fine."
"I was just checking in,” Jake interrupted.
She shot him an annoyed glance over her shoulder. He might be the boss in the bedroom, but this was her dude ranch. “Sorry, our last room is full up, for two weeks as a matter of fact.” She heard Pedro's gasp at the lie, but didn't back down. If she and Jake stayed together, she'd screw him blind within a week.
"I know. My secretary Mona made the reservation for me."
Cyn swallowed hard. Her luck couldn't be that bad. She only had one reservation, a Mr. Smith, for two whole weeks, an unheard of occurrence for the no frills dude ranch. It wasn't him; she decided, crossing her fingers. She slanted a suspicious look his way. “Mr. Smith."
"That's me,” he said.
"Damn,” she muttered. She had to admire the smooth way he told the bald-faced lie. She'd never learned the knack herself.
"Ditto, sugar.” He hoisted his duffle bag out of the Harley's saddlebags. “Show me where to bed down."
"I'll take care of these critters,” Pedro said, shooing the goats back to their enclosure.
And I'd better take care of mine...
"If you'll follow me, I'll check you in, Mr. Smith.” She led the way into the dude ranch's office, in the front room of her cabin, and went behind the counter, ever aware of JT following her. His scent, his proximity was intoxicating and doing crazy things to her libido. She could bottle the sex pheromones he gave off and make a million bucks, she smiled a secret smile. Her nipples tingled, beading, making her grateful she was wearing a loose blouse, which she'd had to button all the way up, thanks to his love bite. He was a wild one, and she'd be a fool to trust him.
She turned to see that JT had stopped to admire a painting on the wall. It was one of hers. An impressionistic landscape, and she held her breath. Would he like it? And why did it matter if he did?
"Lovely,” he said, gazing at it.
Her heart skipped a beat as he stopped to absorb the painting. It was like he was drinking up part of her essence, her unique view of the world that made her paint. He actually liked it. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smile.
"Who painted it?” JT asked, staring at the painting, absorbing it.
"She's a regional artist,” Cyn murmured, her face heating.
"I'll have to look her up."
"I'm afraid that would be difficult, her studio's closed.” The determined look Jake turned on her, made her quiver inside. She licked her lips. It was the way he looked at her last night when he was ravishing her; she remembered every sexy detail.
He gazed back at the canvas, looking at the signature. “CJ McCall. You?” he asked, giving her a slow, appraising glance.
"Yeah, I painted it. I'm a commercial artist. McCall is my mother's maiden name. I use it professionally.” She motioned toward the register, trying to rush him along. She so didn't want to talk about her wishes, or failed aspirations, couldn't risk letting him know her that deeply. “If you'll just sign here, Mr. Smith."
"So why'd you stop?"
She frowned as he leaned casually against the counter. There had to be some way to rush him. “Duty,” she said in short. “I was needed at home. But it's only temporary. And I haven't stopped completely."
"Until your dad gets out of prison."
She bristled at the statement. How did he know that? “You're pretty well informed for a man who's shirked his duty for ten years."
"I keep informed, especially when it has to do with Randal Industries."
"But it doesn't. The ranch isn't for sale, Jake. I told it to that slimy Dwain Hawkins, and I'll tell you the same. If that's your reason for pursuing me, you might just as well turn back around. It didn't work for him, and it won't work for you."
"Hawkins has bothered you?"
She rolled her eyes at the understatement. “Yeah,” she said sarcastically. “You ought to know his techniques. He's working under your marching orders."
"Not until next week, when I take on temporary management of RI. It's a duty thing,” he said with wry self-humor. “Right now, I'm on vacation."
"Right.” She didn't believe a word of it. He didn't strike her as the laid-back type. “One tip, you might want to tell him to lay off the strong-arm tactics,” she said, watching Jake go rigid.
"Strong arm tactics? What did the bastard do?” he asked, in a deceptively quiet tone.
The flash of cold fury in his eyes startled her. It seemed like he really cared. She couldn't let herself believe that. “First, he tried to romance me, in a creepy, all hands sort of way. When that didn't work, he threatened me. Still is, indirectly."
"How?"
She reached under the counter and brought up the sheaf of poison pen letters, fanning them in front of him. “He's been sending me love notes."
"Damn. You sure it's him?"
"He isn't stupid enough to sign them, but who else would bother? I'm basically invisible around here.” His doubtful look, fed her fragile feminine ego. “Of course, he's already got Cordial wrapped around his little finger."
"The haughty ice blond, dripping with pearls."
Cyn leaned forward. “Most of them are fake. She's had to sell off her jewels to support her lavish lifestyle. She's looking for a rich husband for her daughters, beware."
He grinned. “Thanks for the warning. Does that include you?"
"Hell no, I'm only a stepdaughter and an artsy, weird, one at that. And no, I'm not looking for a husband. You're off the hook, stud. Staying here would be stupid. Once she realizes who you are, the girls are going to come gunning for you. If I were you, I'd run a mile."
"I think I'll risk it,” he said, taking the key to bungalow six out of her hand.
"It's the last log cabin on the right.” She pulled away. “You should have everything you need."
"I hope so, because I'm really hungry,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “Room service?"
She chuckled; he really did think he was back at the Hyatt. “No. The hands start work at dawn, and get breakfast at six. If you care to join in the work, I'll feed you. Otherwise, I'd recommend the Coffee Cup Café; they make a mean eggs Benedict."
"Think about it. I might just let you taste me,” he said, swinging out the door.
Cyn let out a startled gasp as she watched him go, her eyes glued to his very sexy butt. He would have to remember that needy disclosure. It was on. She'd like to take a bite out of that ass.
"CJ, I want a word with you.” Cordial stepped up behind her.
Cyn jumped a mile. How had the woman snuck up on her? She'd been too busy ogling Jake, that's how. What was her stepmother doing slumming down at the dude ranch, and at this hour?
Cyn turned around, bristling when Cordial raked her new look with a shocked and disgruntled scowl.
"Now I know what happened to my stylists."
Cyn had forgotten about the missing stylists, lost in lust with Jake Randal. If she'd actually poached her stepmother's stylists, it'd been in a good cause. But deep down, she believed there was a more mystical explanation. There was something magical about the godmothers showing up when she was in desperate need of them. “I don't know what you're talking about."
"Right.” Cordial's eyes narrowed. “Watch your step, missy. I can kick you off of these grounds."
The threat was laughable. Who'd do the work if she were gone? “And do the grunt work yourself? I think not,” she bluffed.
"Is that who I think it was?” Cordial asked, glancing in the direction of the black Harley Davidson pulled up in front of bungalow six.
Boy, her stepmother didn't miss a thing. “I don't know, who do you think it is?"
Cordial's eyes narrowed. “Don't play games with me, young lady. I won't have that motorcycle bum staying here, you should have seen him last night, rubbing shoulders with his betters."
"He's not a bum,” Cyn automatically jumped to his defense, and bit her lip when Cordial gave her a suspicious look. “He registered as a Mr. Smith, and paid in cash up front,
so he's no vagrant."
Cordial laughed bitterly. “You really are an innocent. Mr. Smith, you say?"
"That's right,” Cyn said with certainty, trying to calm her down. Jake couldn't afford to have Cordial run her usual credit check on him. He was under an assumed name for a reason.
"Did he give you any idea what he's doing here?"
"He's here on business."
Cordial frowned. “Monkey business. Smith is obviously an alias. Did he give you any hard clues to his true identity?"
"Nothing rock hard.” Cyn smiled, thinking of his cock. “But he might give it to me later."
Chapter 5
Jake Randal parked his bike next to his father's Caddy in the near empty Randal Industries executive offices parking lot. He'd never wanted to come back. Now he had no choice but to take the helm of the ailing company. Just as he thought, his workaholic father was here early, defying his doctor's orders. Some things never changed.
In his teens, he'd done everything to rebel against the future that had been mapped out for him. He'd left home at eighteen, and knocked around the world, joining the military, getting an education in jungle warfare and army intelligence. It had prepared him well for the cutthroat business world. He'd managed to fight his way to the top of the business world, and now he was back to square one.
The good thing was that Scion Industries was thriving, and could operate anywhere he chose to move. The bad thing was the less than pleasant task of taking Randal Industries apart to put it back together again on a solvent basis. He'd planned to lay low, and wait until the audit and investigation were complete. Lull the crooks into a false sense of security. Cyn's leveling about Hawkins’ behavior had changed all that. Action was called for, now.
He headed toward the security guard, recognizing Tim Bailey, a longtime Randal Industries employee. It took a few minutes for recognition to spark in the older man's eyes.
"Good gosh, is it you?” Tim asked with a grin. “The rumors were right, you've come home."
"Yeah, I guess it blew my cover when I stopped in at the dance."
"People were arguing whether it was you or not. Most of them didn't think so, but I knew you straight off when I saw you on the back of that sweet ride."
"Yeah, I had it shipped in along with the rest of my gear."
"So you're here for the duration?"
"As long as the old man needs me."
"Good on ya. There wouldn't be a personal reason for you sticking around, would there?” he asked with a smile. “I heard tell you scorned the local girls, and left with some gorgeous redhead."
Damn, the local rumor mill had lost none of its fervor. However, he didn't like thinking of Cyn being whispered about. “You heard that, did you?"
"Yup. Some stranger in town, they said, a mystery woman."
"And I intend to keep her that way,” he said a bit gruffly, relaxing when the man nodded. He'd keep business and pleasure separate. At least Cyn's name hadn't been grist for the rumor mill, yet. He knew what it felt like to be whispered about, and he didn't know if Cyn could handle it. Her panic when he found her this morning was troubling.
To change the subject, and take his mind off troublesome thoughts of Cyn, he glanced at his father's Caddy. “I see Pop is here, burning the early morning light."
Tim sighed. “Yeah, he is. Your mama would kick his ass if she knew."
Jake chuckled, thinking of his fierce, five-foot-nothing mother laying down the law. Grown men knew enough to get out of his petite mother's way when she was on the warpath. “How long has he been doing this?” He stood implacably while Tim hesitated, obviously trying to balance loyalty with concern. “Don't worry. I'm not going to tell Mom."
"I don't like to squeal, but he needs to slow down.” Tim shook his head. “It's been about a week, while your mother is in Chicago for a showing. He told me he's trying to stay one step ahead of things. Apparently, there's some trouble brewing. Rumor has it the companies about to go bust."
"Don't worry. It's not going to happen. I've got everything in hand."
"Have I got your word on that?” Tim asked.
"Definitely. I know who's been sabotaging operations, and I'm going to shut them down,” Jake said, coming up with Plan B on the fly. If he couldn't afford to bide his time because of danger to Cyn, he'd flush the bastards out.
"You want me to keep it confidential?” Tim asked.
"Hell no, go ahead and spread it around,” Jake said, seeing the comprehension in Tim's eyes as he walked away.
* * * *
He walked down the quiet corridors toward his father's corner office, and went in. Silas looked up from the spreadsheets he'd been reading; a glass of whiskey at his elbow, and a cigar burning in the ashtray. He glanced at Jake, his eyes warming, before he frowned. “So it's true you're home."
Jake smiled a little, seeing through his father's bluff. He didn't like being caught breaking doctor's orders. “Isn't that against doctor's orders? What would Mom say?"
"You'd damned well better not tell her. This is the only time of day I can indulge my vices.” He pointed to the bottle of Scotch on his desk. “Want one?"
"No thanks,” Jake said, taking the bottle away, carrying it back to the wet bar, and putting it in the cabinet.
"Well hell, boy. I don't need you preaching to me, too. Heard you made a spectacle of yourself at the dance, and insulted some of our local belles. That's no way to gain local favor, or get their land for our expansion."
Jake studied him, noting that while his dad was a little pale, he'd lost none of his vigor. At least he knew his dad could handle some direct questions that needed to be asked. “And screwing the locals out of their land is a way to gain local favor?"
Silas scowled up at him. “Who the hell said that? Did that information come from your fancy bean counters, or that nosy PI you hired, because it isn't true. Forensic audit, my ass; I never cheated anyone in my life, boy."
"I know you haven't, personally.” Jake pulled the preliminary audit and investigators’ reports out of his duffle bag. “Take a look at these,” he said, handing the reports over to his dad.
Silas glanced at the cover sheets. “You didn't have to hire them to find out we're losing money. I could have told you that. We're being run out of the market by bigger companies, that's why we need to expand operations."
"No, you're losing money because someone is embezzling. You're being taken by a ruthless con man and he's setting you up to take a fall with these bogus land deals."
Silas leaned back in his chair, to pin him with a frown. “Bogus land deals?"
"The ranches you've been buying up..."
"What about them?"
"North Star Developments has used extortion to obtain them on your behalf. The man behind it is a first class con man."
"Extortion ... now hold on there, boy..."
"I've got proof.” Jake cut in. He pulled out the threatening note Cyn gave him. “Here's a little sample."
Silas read it, his brow furrowing. “This doesn't mention North Star, or Randal Industries. What makes you think it has anything to do with us?"
"I got it from Cyn Taylor."
"That redheaded broad with the hot temper? You can't believe a word she says. Why, do you know what she did to Dwain Hawkins? She damned near killed him."
"And do you know why? He put the moves on her, hard. She kicked his scrawny ass, and set the goats on him."
Silas hooted with laughter. “The hell you say. He never told me that."
"He wouldn't."
Silas shook his head. “It doesn't add up. The times I saw her, she was a drab little thing, hardly a beauty like her sisters. What man would try to romance her?"
Jake tensed at the slur. Cyn hadn't been kidding when she said she'd been invisible. Were the men in this county blind? “Watch you tongue, Dad."
Silas pinned him with a slow, sly look, and nodded. “So that's the way the wind blows. She's the redhead you picked up."
Jake ga
ve his father a focused look, remaining quiet.
"Is that where you're staying?"
"Yeah, under an assumed name, for now.” Jake waved his hand at the reports. “Those are your copies, Dad. Take them home, read them, and start following doctor's orders, for god's sake."
"You expect me to go home in the midst of this?” Silas said, a frown deepening the furrows in his brow.
"You need to rest up, if you're going to retake the helm of the new improved Randal Industries.” Jake watched the startled, but excited look his dad gave him, confirming his thought that his father wasn't ready to retire.
"Then you don't want to stay? Your mother and I were kind of hoping you'd settle down here."
"I'm moving Scion headquarters back home to Cider City. “Maud, my gal Friday, is flying in today. I'm assigning her to you temporarily. She'll be our go-between."
"Good god, you can't assign that harpy to ride herd on me. I'm a sick man."
"Yeah right,” Jake said, looking at the two fingers of Scotch in his father's glass. “Here's how it's going to play out..."
* * * *
Cyn walked into the Coffee Cup Café at noon, carrying Dora's birthday gift. She spotted her friend at the counter, and hopped onto the stool next to her with a grin. This getaway was just what she needed after the twin distractions of flirting with Jake and fending off Cordial. “Happy birthday."
"Same to you.” Dora gave her new jeans and blouse a pleased look. “I'm glad to see the makeover continues."
"Thanks,” Cyn said, preening a little. “That's not all that's continuing."
"You're still seeing JT!” Dora gasped.
Cyn nodded, a thrill surging though her at the thought. He was her very own stud if she wanted him. Who was she to turn that down? “He's my Mr. Smith."
"Get outta here,” Dora said, her jaw dropping. She leaned in to ask, “Does Cordial know?"
"Not yet. She thinks he's a motorcycle gang member or something, and here for monkey business."