Mac's Law

by Sarah McCarty

  He grunted in what she assumed was approval. “Jute and his brother Jeremy. You can’t miss them. They stand right out. Flaming red hair and more freckles than you can shake a stick at.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes out for them.”

  He nodded. “You do that. And if they corner you alone anywhere, don’t bother trying to talk them down. You just start screaming. We’ll be keeping an eye out for you.”

  “Thank you.” Jessie wondered if that “we” included Mac, and then chastised herself for being a fool. Of course it did. He was the boss. She could sue his ass if she got hurt working here. He’d probably sleep with one eye open, alert for all eventualities. Which probably included sexual harassment. Damn. Like she needed another complication to her plan.

  Will grabbed another doughnut, and tipped his hat before heading out the door, his “You’re welcome” trailing in his wake. He paused when he reached the door. “Boss.”

  Jessie cut a glance at the door as she ladled more batter into the waiting pan. Mac was just like she remembered, big, well-muscled, with an aura of masculinity that made her breasts tingle and her knees weak. She sucked in her breath and put a rein on the delight skipping through her bloodstream. She would never get anywhere with a man this confident, by gawking like a starstruck teenager. She forced herself to continue cooking breakfast as if his eyes weren’t burning a hole in her spine.

  His low good morning rumbled over her senses in a welcome caress. She could listen to the man forever.

  “Good morning yourself,” she tossed the greeting over her shoulder.

  Mac came into the kitchen, noting the orderly chaos that reigned. “I thought I told you it wasn’t necessary to cook this morning?”

  She shrugged. “You did, but I’m used to waking early. Since I was up, I didn’t see any reason not to whip something up.”

  His brow rose. “You call homemade doughnuts, apple pancakes, fried ham and—” He spotted several cartons on the counter, “—eggs, whipping something up?”

  He had an excellent view of her back as she answered, “Yes.”

  She held herself a little too carefully to be telling the truth.

  “Uh-huh.” Mac admired the trim line of her figure as he poured himself a cup of coffee. She was small and dainty, but with a lushness to her curves that drew him. His eyes lingered on the perfect heart shape of her ass beneath the faded material of her jeans. Definitely squeezable. He took a sip of the coffee. The smell warned him before his taste buds could chime in. He winced. “I taste Will’s influence in this.”

  Jessie turned halfway around and noted the cup. She shrugged and slid ham onto the pile on the platter. “He said it was too weak the way I made it.”

  He took another cautious sip. “I’ve no doubt it was, but the way Will likes to repair the damage is worse.”

  She paused before turning back to the stove. “I was going to make a new pot,” she admitted. “But then Will produced his remedy and I needed a shortcut.”

  “Some shortcuts just aren’t worth the trip.”

  “So I’m finding out.” She flipped a switch off on the stove. The soft click punctuated her turn. “But seeing as the doughnuts are ready and I’ve only got four minutes until the first pancake is done, the men will just have to make do with orange juice while you make another pot.”

  “I’m making a pot?”

  “If you expect me to hold back some of these doughnuts for you, you are.”

  He guessed he’d be making coffee then. She grabbed a huge pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge. She placed it on the table before hefting the mountainous platter of doughnuts up onto her shoulder.

  He straightened. “You want me to carry that for you?” She looked like she’d overbalance any second.

  “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  He put his cup down, intending to insist, but before he could say a word, she had the pitcher tucked onto her hip and scooted past him out the door into the dining room.

  There was an immediate roar for coffee and some ribald remarks. Most stayed within the realm of good taste, but Mac noted Jute and Jeremy stepped way over the line more than once. He waited by the door, ready to intercede if necessary both for the comments and for the lack of coffee.

  Denying a cowboy coffee was practically a hanging offense. He may not want the woman here, but he wasn’t going to let her be abused while she was under his roof. He half expected to hear Will jump in, but there was only the soft murmur of Jessie’s voice and then as one, all the complaints dropped off. Then there was no sound at all except Jessie’s cheerful “Be right back”. Mac poured the coffee into the sink and refilled the pot with water.

  She came sailing back into the kitchen without a hair out of place, wearing a little smile on her lips that had his cock perking up and giving his libido a nudge. The woman was a menace.

  He turned the coffee grinder on. The unexpected noise knocked that too tempting smile off her lips. She nodded in his direction and opened the oven. The smile was back, replete with satisfaction, as she pulled a twenty-four inch cast-iron pan out of the oven. The scent of apples and cinnamon intensified in the room, wrapping around his senses as he stared at her mouth and that sexy smile.

  He bet she wore that exact smile when she was damp and exhausted after her man pleased her in bed. The image wouldn’t leave his head, Jessie naked on his bed, the sheets bunched around her feet, her body flushed with the pleasure he’d given her, the taste of her on his tongue, her body sweetly limp in his arms. Damn, he wanted to place his lips against hers and taste that soft sighing emotion for himself.

  He spun around and dumped the ground coffee into the receptacle with a disgusted flick of his wrist. Hell, he was having sexual fantasies over a smile, for God’s sake. That just clinched it. The woman had to go, or he was going to be in court for sure. Kissing the cook had to violate some law, and he’d spent all the free cash he had on that new bull. Otherwise, he would have paid the severance and sent her on her way yesterday. And what a poor justification that would be for spending money. He put the top on the electric percolator and turned it on. Hell, he was a thirty-one-year-old man, not a fifteen-year-old boy. He ought to be able to keep his cock in his pants for two damned weeks.

  Jessie cut the pancake into twelve portions before transferring them to another platter. Nothing in her manner even indicated she was aware that he was in the room. That rankled even more than the fact that she had this effect on him. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “So how’d you get past the hollering?”

  She glanced up from where she was pouring more batter into the pan. “What?” She added apples to the mix.

  He waited until after she’d loaded it into the oven to ask, “How’d you get away without coffee?”

  “Oh that.” She flashed him a grin that had his cock jerking against his jeans as she reached across the table for the powdered sugar shaker. “That was just a matter of realigning their thinking.”

  He widened his stance to make room for his growing erection. She could light up a city block with that smile. “Realigned how?”

  She shook the sugar over the top of the finished pancakes. “I merely pointed out that ticking off the cook on her first day with a lack of patience would result in peanut butter for lunch and my slopping the hogs with the rest of breakfast.” Her breasts jiggled as she worked. His cock expanded down his thigh.

  “We don’t have any hogs.”

  She glanced up, her smile fleshed out with laughter. “No one seemed hung up on that point.”

  In one surge his cock went rock-hard. Standing as he was, she couldn’t miss the bulging ridge of hard flesh stretching halfway down his thigh. He knew the exact moment she noted his interest. The shaker jerked to a halt and her green eyes widened. He made no apology or attempt to hide. She stared like that for a few seconds, frozen. Then her tongue came out over her lips and slowly spread tempting moisture across their full curves as her eyes ate him alive.
<
br />   He bit back a groan. Damn it. He bet if he walked over there and slipped his hands inside her jeans, she’d be wet. His cock throbbed and jerked, straining in its tight confines. She gasped, her gaze flew to his. He had just enough time to register the shock mixed with desire in hers before she scooped up the pancake platter and rushed out of the room.

  Good. Let her run. All the way to a new job. Behind him the coffeepot began to gurgle. Any woman her age who fled at the sight of a man’s hard-on did not have what it took to be his lover. He grabbed his hat and slammed open the back door. Which, he told himself, was a good thing. His cock, only interested in having those lush lips tucked snug and tight around its sensitive shaft, totally ignored his point. It ached and throbbed with unrelieved anticipation. Mac cursed and headed for the barn. Maybe mucking out some stalls would put some perspective on the situation.

  * * * * *

  An hour later Jessie sat at the kitchen table staring at Mac in exasperation. Didn’t the man ever give up?

  “I can’t believe we’re going through this again.” Jessie sighed wearily, plucking a piece of apple off her pancake. She waved it at him before asking, “Didn’t we decide yesterday that I had no intention of leaving before my two week trial period was over?”

  “Nope,” Mac answered, stealing a piece of apple for himself. Since he was straddling a chair across from her, it was within easy reach. She raised her knife threateningly. He calmly licked his fingers as he continued, “We sort of agreed to let the conversation rest.”

  “While you schemed and concocted your way out of the agreement?”

  “I never said I had any intention of reneging on this agreement.”

  Jessie narrowed her eyes, obviously sensing the trap beneath his logic. “Then what exactly was the point in coming in here and announcing that I should plan on being on the next bus back to Dallas?”

  “Lord, you are a suspicious one.”

  She put the apple in her mouth, chewed deliberately and said, “I’m beginning to believe with you, I have to be.”

  “I’m an honest man.”

  She took another piece of apple from the pancake in front of her. “One who is intent on getting his way.”

  She was right about that.

  She chewed and swallowed the small bite, folded her arms across her chest and asked, “So what exactly are you trying to say?”

  “I have no doubt that you are a terrific cook,” he began as he filched a second piece. She glared at him. He shrugged and popped the piece into his mouth. He was hungry. “Breakfast this morning proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I honestly don’t think you’re equipped to deal with the realities of life around here.”

  Jessie cracked his knuckles with the flat blade of the knife before he could remove her last bit of apple. She got to her feet and went to the warming oven. She pulled out a plate heaped with pancakes, eggs and ham. She plopped it down in front of him before resuming her seat and asking, “What ‘realities’ are we talking about here?”

  “Thanks.” He poured syrup over the pancakes and ham. As he was cutting up his first bite, he asked, “Where do you think the eggs you used to bake these pancakes came from?”

  Jessie took one look at the way he leaned on the back of that ladder-back chair, his eyebrows raised superiorly, and she knew that the supermarket wasn’t the right response. Her gaze fell on the window over his shoulder. “I would guess from that chicken coop over there.”

  He smiled. “Nice guess. Are you beginning to see my point?”

  She took a sip of her glass of milk. Milk that came from a carton in the fridge. “Not really. I understand that you are relatively self-sufficient here. Mr. Price at the employment agency was quite explicit about that.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged in the face of his skepticism. “I’ll tell you what I told him. I am an intelligent woman. I am not averse to learning new things, and I am quite willing to understand what is involved in—” She paused and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. “How did you phrase that?”

  “I did and do need a cook who knows the ins and outs of food from the barnyard up.”

  Jessie placed her knife and fork precisely on the side of her plate. “Well, neither Mr. Price nor I were exactly sure what that entailed, but faced with my qualifications and confidence, we both agreed I’d be able to adapt.”

  He laughed outright at that.

  “Well, what did you mean?” she demanded, beginning to get angry as he eyed her from head to toe and broke into fresh amusement. “It’s not like I have to milk a cow or anything.” She held up her glass. “This came from a grocery store and so did a heck of a lot of other stuff in that fridge.”

  Mac took a bite of his ham and eggs. She had to wait until he finished before he answered. “Honey, you don’t have the slightest idea of what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

  “I haven’t gotten myself into anything,” she denied. She took a last bite of her breakfast before getting to her feet. As she scraped the rest into the trash she said, “And you can just stop trying to scare me away from this job.” She put her dishes into the huge dishwasher and turned around, arms folded across her chest. “My contract says I have two weeks in which to prove myself, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  He didn’t look the least intimidated by her stand. He just calmly took another bite of food, savored the flavor, swallowed, and then pointed out, “Your contract says I can’t fire you for any reason except failure on your part to perform your duties.”

  “That’s ‘reasonably’ perform my duties,” she countered.

  He waved that aside like so much trivia. “How about we make a little side wager here?”

  “What kind of wager?” she asked suspiciously.

  His smile was a pure masculine stretch of his lips. It radiated confidence and so much appeal she pressed her thighs together. At the same time, it made her wary. Only someone with a trick up his sleeve was that cocky.

  “Why don’t we say the first time you fail in your duties, you pack your bags and catch the next bus home?”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you get to stay the entire two weeks without a word from me.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Not good enough. I’ve already got that by virtue of my contract.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. It only made him sexier. More drool-worthy. “You’ve done this kind of thing before?”

  Jessie shrugged. “A time or two.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “A six month option.” She may have been on the Circle H only a day, but the place seemed to welcome her home. She wasn’t above negotiating it into one.

  “All right,” he agreed. “As long as you agree to a condition of mine.”

  “Shoot.”

  “If you lose, you forfeit your pay.”

  She swallowed hard. She couldn’t afford to lose that money.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Mac sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t do it?”

  She wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all someone foolish enough to doubt her abilities in the kitchen. She stuck out her hand. “You’re on.”

  Mac caught her hand in his and stared hard into her eyes. “Then we’re agreed. As cook of the Circle H, you agree to provide the meals, and try to supply as many of our needs as possible from resources here at the ranch. And you accept the responsibility of getting that food to the table.”

  Her eyes narrowed, knowing that he was wording things so carefully because there was something he didn’t want her to guess, but unable to find it. She almost backed down, but then that corner of his gorgeous mouth quirked as if he knew what she was thinking and she was pumping his hand before the sense of caution had more than a flicker of life.

  “Agreed.”

  At the satisfied smile that stretched his sexy mouth, she felt a shiver run up her spine. Something told her it was going to be a rough t
wo weeks.

  Chapter Four

  So this was to be her punishment for refusing to leave. Jessie stood arms akimbo, staring at the poor unsuspecting chickens clucking and scratching around in their comfy, fenced in yard. And she was supposed to invade their private sanctum and commit murder. Her stomach roiled at the thought.

  She recalled her dismissal of Mac’s concern about her abilities. If this was what he meant about knowing how to cook from the barnyard up, he’d been right to doubt. One white chicken with a tiny speckle of black on its breast, clucked up to the fence and looked her right in the eye. She glared at it and tried to shoo it away, but the bird just stood on the other side of that fence, scratching at the ground, attempting to strike up a friendship, chicken style.