“What do you expect me to tell your father?”
“Tell him not to worry. I love you both, and I’ll call again. Bye, Mom.” She quickly disconnected.
A slightly plump, fiftyish woman, who Amber had earlier learned was Sasha, was pulling a large pan of lasagna from the stainless steel oven when Amber entered the kitchen. Stephanie was tossing a salad in a carved wooden bowl on the breakfast bar, while Royce transferred warm rolls into a linen-napkin-lined basket.
For the second time, she was struck by his domesticity. The men she knew didn’t help out in the kitchen. Come to think of it, the women she knew didn’t, either. And though Amber herself had taken French cooking lessons at her private school, the lessons had centered more on choosing a caterer than hands-on cooking.
“There’s a wine cooler around the corner.” Stephanie was looking to Amber as she indicated the direction with a toss of her auburn head. “Italian wines are on the third tier, left-hand side.”
Royce didn’t turn as Amber made her way to a small alcove between the kitchen and the back entryway. The cooler was set in a stone wall, reds in one glass-fronted compartment, whites in the other.
“See if there’s a Redigaffi.” Royce’s voice was so close behind her that it gave her a start.
She took a bracing breath and opened the glass door, turning a couple of bottles on the third shelf so that she could see their labels.
“How’d the call go?” he asked.
“Fine.”
There was a silence.
“That’s it?” he asked. “Fine?”
“I talked to my mother. She wants me to come home.” Amber found the right bottle of wine and slid it out of the holder, straightening and turning to discover Royce was closer than she’d expected. She pushed the glass door closed behind her.
“And?” he asked.
“And what?” She reflexively clutched the bottle.
“Are you going home?”
Though they’d agreed she’d merely be a houseguest, the question seemed loaded with meaning as his eyes thoroughly searched her expression.
“Not yet,” she answered.
“Good.”
She felt the need to clarify. “It doesn’t mean—”
“I meant it’s good because you don’t love Hargrove, so it would be stupid to go back.”
She gave him a short nod.
“Not that the other’s gone away,” he clarified.
Amber didn’t know how to respond to that.
His gaze moved to the bottle. “Did you find one?”
She raised it, and he lifted it from her hands.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Move your butts,” called Stephanie from the kitchen, and Amber suddenly realized that her world had contracted to the tiny alcove, Royce and her wayward longings.
She gave herself a mental shake, while he took a step back and gestured for her to lead the way into the kitchen.
Stephanie was setting wineglasses at three places at the breakfast bar, while Sasha had disappeared. The Ryder family was a curious mix of informality and luxury. The glasses were fine, blown crystal. The wine was from an exquisite vineyard that Amber recognized. But they were hopping up on high chairs at the breakfast bar to a plain, white casserole pan of simple, beef lasagna.
“Did you talk to your mom?” asked Stephanie as she took the end seat.
Amber took the one around the corner, and Royce settled next to her. He was both too close and too far away. She could almost detect the heat of his body, felt the change in air currents while he moved, and she was overcome with a potent desire to touch him. Of course, touching him was out of the question.
“I talked to her,” she told Stephanie.
“What did she say?”
“She wants me to come home and, well, reconcile with Hargrove, of course.”
“And?” Stephanie pressed. “What did you tell her?”
“That I wasn’t ready.” Amber found herself deliberately not looking in Royce’s direction as she spoke.
“Good for you,” said Stephanie with a vigorous nod. “We girls, we have to stick to our guns. There are too many people in our lives trying to interfere with our decisions.” She cast a pointed gaze at her brother.
“Give it a rest,” Royce growled at his sister, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the wine. “You’re not getting a million dollars.”
“You’re such a hard-ass.”
“And you’re a spoiled brat.”
“You are spending an awful lot for vet supplies and lumber,” Amber put in. “Those are the bills I found stacked up on the office desk.”
Stephanie blinked at her. “Oh.”
Royce popped the cork and reached for Amber’s wineglass. “Amber has some questions about the accounts. Who does McQuestin deal with at head office?”
“I think he talks to Norma Braddock sometimes.”
Royce handed the wine bottle to his sister then whisked his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll go straight to Barry.”
“I’d watch out for him,” Stephanie advised, forehead wrinkling.
Royce rolled his eyes at the warning.
Amber decided to stay quiet.
“Barry?” said Royce, while Stephanie handed the salad bowl to Amber.
Amber served herself some of the freshest-looking lettuce and tomatoes she’d ever seen.
“Royce, here.”
Then she leaned toward Stephanie and whispered, “From your garden?”
Stephanie nodded, whispering in return. “You’ll want to get out of here before canning season.”
Amber grinned at the dire intonation.
“Sorry to bother you this late,” Royce continued. “We’ve hired someone on to take care of the office while Jared and McQuestin are away.” He gave Amber a wink, and something fluttered in her chest. She quickly picked up her wineglass to cover.
“She has some questions about the bank account. There have been a number of unpaid bills lately.” He paused for a moment. “Why don’t I let you talk to her directly?”
Amber hadn’t expected that. She quickly swallowed and set down the glass. Good thing her questions were straightforward. She tucked her hair out of the way behind her ears, accepting the phone from Royce, ignoring the tingle when his fingers brushed hers.
“Hello?” she opened.
“Who am I speaking to?” asked Barry from the other end of the line.
“This is Amber, I’m—”
“And you’re an employee at Ryder Ranch?” he asked directly.
She paused. “Uh, yes. That’s right.”
“Administrator? Bookkeeper?” There was an unexpected edge to the man’s tone.
“Something like that.” She gave Royce a confused look, and his eyes narrowed, crinkling slightly at the corners.
“Do you have a pen?” Barry asked, voice going even sharper.
“I—”
“Because you’d better write this down.”
Amber glanced around at the countertops. “Just—”
“Sally Nettleton.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sally Nettleton is the accounts supervisor. You can speak to her in the morning.”
“Sure. Do you happen to have her—”
“And a warning, young lady. Don’t you ever go above my head to Royce Ryder again.”
Amber froze, voice going hollow. “What?”
“Share this conversation with him at your own peril. I don’t tolerate insubordination, and he won’t always be there to protect you.”
Amber’s mouth worked but sounds weren’t coming out. Nobody had dared speak to her that way in her life.
“You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Don’t fool yourself into thinking anything different.” He stopped speaking, and the line fairly vibrated with tension.
She didn’t know what to say. She had absolutely no idea what to tell this obnoxious man. Imagine if she really was an employee, dependent on her job. It w
ould be horrible.
She heard a click and knew he’d signed off.
“Goodbye,” she said weakly for the benefit of Royce and Stephanie.
“Told you he was feeling snarky today,” said Stephanie.
“What did he say?” asked Royce. “You okay?”
“She looks a little pale,” Stephanie put in.
“I’m fine,” said Amber, debating with herself about what to tell Royce as she shut down the phone and handed it back.
“You didn’t ask many questions,” Royce ventured.
“He gave me a name. Sally Nettleton.” She took a breath, framing her words carefully. “He was, well, annoyed that you’d put me in direct touch with him.”
Royce frowned.
“He seems to think I broke the chain of command.”
“So what?”
“I tell you, something’s wrong with that man,” Stephanie put in, dishing some of the crisp salad onto her plate.
Amber made up her mind, seeing little point in protecting Barry. In fact, she probably owed it to the rest of his staff to tell Royce the truth. “He seems to think I’m your lover.”
It was Royce’s turn to freeze. “He said that?”
“He said he didn’t tolerate insubordination, and you won’t always be around to protect me. That you’d lose interest.”
A ruddy flush crept up Royce’s neck, and he reached for his phone.
Amber put her hand over his. “Don’t,” she advised.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because he’ll think you are protecting your lover.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what—”
“Did I miss something?” asked Stephanie, glancing from one to the other, her tone laced with obvious anticipation and excitement. “Lovers?”
“No,” they both shouted simultaneously.
“Too bad.” She went back to her salad. “That would be cool.”
Amber turned to Stephanie. “That would be tacky. You can’t sleep with a man you’ve barely met.” She silently commanded herself to pay close attention to those words.
“Sure you can,” Stephanie chirped with a grin.
“No,” Royce boomed at her. “You can’t.”
Stephanie giggled. “Good grief, you’re an easy mark. There’s nobody around here for me to sleep with anyway.”
Some of the fight went out of Royce’s posture, but his hand still gripped his phone.
Amber rubbed the tense hand. “Let it go.”
“It’s a firing offence.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“At least give it some thought first.” Barry had been a jerk, but she didn’t want anyone getting fired on her account. “Maybe ask around. See if this was an isolated incident.”
“He was rude to me this morning,” said Stephanie.
“You’re not helping,” Amber warned.
Royce folded his arms across his chest. “It was my decision to call him directly. He doesn’t get to second-guess me.”
“Did you explain the circumstances?”
“I don’t have to.”
“So, he made an assumption. You can’t fire a man for making an assumption.”
He pasted her with a sharp look. “You like being spoken to that way.”
“Of course not.” But she’d like being Royce’s lover. Heaven help her, she was pretty sure she’d like being Royce’s lover.
Their gazes locked and held for a long moment, and she could have sworn he was reading her mind.
“The lasagna’s getting cold,” Stephanie pointed out conversationally.
Royce ended the moment with a sharp nod. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Sure,” Amber agreed, wondering if they were going to talk about Barry or about the energy that crackled between them like lightning.
Five
In Royce’s mind, the issue was far from settled.
The storm had passed, leaving a bright moon behind. He closed the office door behind him for privacy, leaving Amber and Stephanie chatting out on the veranda, puppies scampering around them. He, on the other hand, flipped on the bright overhead light and crossed to the leather desk chair, snagging the desk phone and punching in Barry’s home number.
It was nearly midnight in Chicago, but he didn’t give a damn. Let the man wake up.
“Hello?” came a groggy, masculine voice.
“Barry?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Royce Ryder.”
“Yes?” A shot of energy snapped into Barry’s voice. “Anything wrong, Royce?”
There was plenty wrong. “Were you able to give Amber the information she needed?”
A pause. “I believe I did. Sally can cover anything else in the morning.”
Royce waited a beat. “When I called you earlier, it wasn’t because I wanted her to talk to Sally in the morning.” Full stop. More silence.
“Oh. Well…I assumed—”
“Did you or did you not answer Amber’s questions?” Royce repeated. And he could almost hear the wheels spinning inside Barry’s head.
“I don’t think you did,” Royce said into the silence. “And the reason I don’t think you did is because I was sitting right next to her during the call, and she didn’t get a chance to ask you any questions.” Once again, he stopped, giving Barry an opportunity to either contribute or sweat.
Hesitation was evident in the man’s voice. “Did she…Mmm. Is she there?”
“No. She’s not here. It’s eleven o’clock. The woman’s not working at eleven o’clock.”
Silence.
“Here’s my suggestion,” said Royce. “To solve the problem. You hop on a plane in the morning. The corporate jet is unavailable, so you’ll have to fly commercial. I’m thinking coach.” He picked up an unopened envelope from the desktop and tapped it against the polished oak surface, dropping all pretence of geniality. “You get your ass to the ranch, and you apologize to Ms. Hutton. Then you answer any and all of her questions.”
“I…But…Did you say Hutton?”
“David Hutton’s daughter. But that couldn’t matter less.”
“Royce. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Apologize to her.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“As soon as I can get there.”
Satisfied, Royce disconnected. Amber only needed to be sure funds would be available in the account. But that wasn’t the point anymore.
He gazed at the envelope in his hand. It was windowed. From North Pass Feed. Typical bill.
Curious after Amber’s concern about his credit rating, he slit it open. Then he glanced through the other piles she’d made, arming himself with some basic information on the ranch expenses.
Half an hour later, he thought he had a picture of the accounts payable situation, so he headed back down the hallway to find Amber and Stephanie in the front foyer.
Stephanie was on her way out the door, and she gave him a quick kiss and a wave before piling into a pickup truck to head for home. As he closed the door behind her, the empty house seemed to hold its breath with anticipation.
Amber looked about as twitchy as he felt.
“You want to talk about Barry?” she asked, moving from the foyer into the great room.
“Taken care of,” he answered, following a few paces behind her, letting his gaze trickle from her shoulders to her narrow waist, to her sexy rear end and the shapely thighs that were emphasized by her snug-fitting blue jeans.
She twisted her head. “What do you mean?”
“He’ll be here in the morning.”
She turned fully then. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s coming by to apologize. And to answer your questions in person.”
Her eyes widened in shock, red lips coming open in a way that was past sexy. “You didn’t.”
“He insisted.”
“He did not.”
; Royce moved closer. “I suspect he understood the stakes.”
She tipped her chin. “I don’t need somebody to travel a thousand miles to offer me an insincere apology.”
“But I do.”
She didn’t appear to have a comeback for that, and it was all he could do not to lean in for a kiss. She looked as if she wanted one. Her lips were full, eyes wide, body tipped slightly forward. If this was any other woman, at any other time…
But she’d made her position clear.
And he’d respect that.
Unless and until she told him otherwise.
Midday sun streaming through the ranch office window, Amber clicked through the headlines of a national news station on the office computer, reflecting with curiosity that she didn’t feel out of touch with the rest of the world. She’d become a bit of a news junkie while finishing her degree, always on the lookout for emerging issues that might impact on her research. Having gone cold turkey in Montana, she should have missed watching world events unfold.
Of course, she had been a little distracted—okay, a lot distracted by a sexy cowboy who was quickly making her forget there was a world outside the Ryder Ranch.
She’d half expected him to kiss her last night.
He’d stared down at her with those intense blue eyes, nostrils slightly flared, hands bunched into fists, and the muscles in his neck bulging in relief against his skin. She’d imagined him leaning down, planting his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into paradise all over again.
But then he’d backed off, and she hadn’t been brave enough to protest.
Now she sighed with regret as she clicked the mouse, bringing up a live news broadcast from a Chicago network. The buffer loaded, and the announcer carried on with a story about a local bridge repair.
She turned back to the desk, lifting the stack that was the day’s mail. Barry Brewster hadn’t arrived to confirm the bank balance yet, so she couldn’t make any progress paying the backlog of bills.
Truth was, she was dreading the man’s arrival. No matter what he said or did, it was going to be embarrassing all around. Royce might think she needed an apology, but Amber had spent most of her life with people being polite to her because they either admired or were afraid of her father or Hargrove. She didn’t need the same thing from Barry today.
In Bed with the Wrangler Page 6