Absolutely gob-smacking gorgeous, Jade Oliver decided when she got her first look at the new owner of Stony Creek Station–Texan millionaire Luke Jordan.
Unfortunately, Luke likened his new employee to a whirling dynamo who was a real pain in the butt. He certainly wasn’t prepared to have a passionate affair with her. But to get what she wanted, Jade had decided otherwise.
“I’ve come about the job.” Her words tumbled out as the homestead door opened at last in response to her pounding fists.
“You’re pretty quick off the mark.”
Her jaw dropped as she stared at the tall man in front of her. Gorgeous. Absolutely gob-smacking, pee-me-pants gawgeous.
“You’d better come in.” He held the door open and she walked past him into the hallway. He directed her into a side room and indicated she should sit in the upright chair facing a large mahogany desk.
He leaned forward resting his palms on the desk, and studied her.
She pulled at her shirt and crossed, then uncrossed, her legs in her comfortable, but old jeans. She waited…and waited, her nerves stretched like taut piano strings.
“I’m Luke Jordan, the owner of Stony Creek Station,” he said at last. “And you are?” His voice was deep with a rich American drawl as smooth and slick as Texas oil. He is definitely smokin’ hot! She resisted the urge to fan the heat which rose in her face.
“My name is Jade Oliver. You advertised for an accountant to keep your books in order, and I want the job.”
“You want?” He raised an eyebrow.
She flushed even more but refused to back down. I sound so rude but I need this job.
“What I mean is I would very much like this position, Mr. Jordan. I am well qualified and…this used to be my home. I know this place like the back of my hand.”
Jade returned his dark, intent gaze. Where did this guy come from? He was supposed to be a rancher from Texas but he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of a top fashion magazine. Elegant didn’t begin to describe him as she eyed his long, lean body in a tailored-made charcoal colored suit with a lime green shirt and dark gray tie. Didn’t he know this was a cattle station and you dress down? As in an old shirt, jeans and comfortable boots, for heaven’s sake. Like she was wearing, for instance.
“I don’t need an accountant.”
His jaw flexed. He was annoyed—not at all friendly. She didn’t blame him. She would be cranky too if some unknown person barged in without as much as a by-your-leave and went straight for the jugular.
“That’s what you asked for. It was in the local paper this morning.”
“I advertized for a bookkeeper.”
“Well, there you are then. You’ve got more than you bargained for.” She gave what she hoped was her most encouraging smile. “Plus, I know how to run the station and I can cook and I’ve ridden on umpteen musters and...”
“There’s no horse I can’t ride.”