The Rancher's Seduction

And he didn’t know who she was.

Awkward.

She should have realized... “I’m your new housekeeper, Tallulah Benson. People call me Tally.”

His smile faded, and he stepped from the pool. When he stood, water dripped from his soaked jeans. Denim clung to one of the best butts she’d ever seen.

“Ah. Tallulah Benson. Right. You’re the person my doctor and stepmother conspired to hire.”

Conspired? His stepmother—Jeannie Steele—had implied she was merely helping him with the interview process. Tally rose, the enclosed area not as warm now that she was drenched. “I was under the impression your arm limits mobility for certain tasks.” She cast an exaggerated glance at the shimmering waters. “Such as swimming.”

“I would have managed,” he said on his way to a set of shelves with stacks of folded towels. “Worst-case scenario, the cast might have needed to be replaced.”

“No doubt you would have been just fine.” Provided he hadn’t slipped. “But you don’t have to manage. Are we going to stand here and catch pneumonia while we argue, or am I hired?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to be a bear.” He pulled a tight smile, flexing his hand at the end of his cast. “I know this isn’t your fault. You’re just doing your job.”

“So happy we’re finally on the same page about my working here.”

“For six weeks. But just so we’re clear, I’m not incapable of taking care of myself.” He opened a large cabinet and pulled a towel free, wrapping up the shivering pup.

“Understood. And I’m not a nurse. I’m here to clean and cook for you.” She grinned, crinkling her nose. “And save your puppy.”

The glimmer of humor in his dark eyes sparked a hunger deep in her belly. She’d been so busy working the past couple of years to make ends meet, there’d been virtually no time for dating, much less something more intimate. Not that it was a possibility with her boss, especially not this boss. She was holding on to secrets about her father’s role in his family’s tragedy.

“Please help yourself to the towels. I would get one for you, but I’m limited these days.”

She reached past him for the fluffy terry cloth, more to shield herself than to dry off. Her breasts were beading with awareness, much to her embarrassment. Hopefully he would chalk it up to the cold weather. She prided herself on her professionalism. She might not be from an oil-rich family like him, but she was proud of her work. Of the life she’d built all by herself.

Life hadn’t been as easy for her as it had been for Marshall Steele, born with money and good looks.

She hugged the plush towel.

An awkward silence fell between them, a truly inauspicious start to her first day on the job. This man—his well-being—was a part of her job description.

“Are you all right? Did you get your cast wet or slip before I arrived?” she asked. “We should get you checked out by the doctor.”

“You’re not my nurse, remember?” He tossed her words back at her. “And you don’t look anything like a Tallulah.”

He’d been expecting someone more...formal perhaps? There wasn’t much she could do about that right now. But she would earn his respect with her job performance. “Well, I guess that’s why people call me Tally.” She smiled. “The service said you’d asked for live-in help over the Christmas season while your arm heals.”

“Live-in?” He tossed aside the damp towel and wrapped a fresh one around the dog. “I was expecting day service.”

“It’s a long drive from town, especially if the weather’s bad, which is typical this time of year.” She struggled to keep the panic out of her voice, her teeth chattering. “I was told there would be room and board included.”

“My stepmother overreached. Just because she’s been married to my father for a few months doesn’t give her the right to schedule my life.”

A cold knot started in her stomach. Tally had heard rumors that things were strained blending families when the Steele patriarch had married the widowed matriarch of their business rivals, the Mikklesons. The news had been full of bumps in the road as the Steeles and Mikkelsons merged their companies into the Alaska Oil Barons.

Tally needed to make him understand her need to stay here. “I’ve already sublet my apartment to an older couple from Kansas who want an extended Alaskan Christmas.”

“Sounds like you’re in a pickle.”

His dismissive tone set her teeth on edge. This wasn’t a game to her. This position was crucial to her finally putting her past to rest. She needed to keep the job, and she didn’t have the disposable income to just find another place to live. Never again would she be flat broke and vulnerable.

“I signed a contract. It clearly states room and board are included.”

“I’ll reimburse you, and you can stay in a hotel.” And still he hadn’t opened the door into the house.

Someone as wealthy as Marshall Steele couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to have no one to depend on, no options.

“Your stepmother will be upset.” She searched for the right tone to persuade him to go along with Jeannie Mikkelson Steele’s plan. “She seems like a very caring person with your best interest at heart.”

“And she’s your boss.”

“No. Actually, you are my boss.”

“If I let you stay.” His half smile encouraged her.

And enticed her.

She hugged her towel tighter around herself. “We can debate the details later. Right now, it seems there are more pressing matters at hand. Such as caring for the dog and finding dry clothes.” She held up a conciliatory hand between them. “Can we please table this discussion until we’re both in dry clothes?”

His eyes flashed with heat again, just a hint, that awareness staying in the respectful realm while still flattering. “Fair enough.” He nodded toward the door. “Follow me and I’ll show you to a guest suite. I assume since you planned to stay, you have a suitcase.”

“I do.” She rushed to add, “And please don’t insist on getting it. It won’t look good on my résumé if you break your other arm.”

He chuckled, but his jaw had a stubborn set. “If I let you carry your own luggage, I’ll have to surrender rights to my Stetson. You can hold Nugget while I get your things out of your car.”

He passed the dog to her. Without another word, he disappeared outside in his wet clothes. She cuddled the little dog—some kind of tiny terrier—close. Her boss was a stubborn one, all right. She would do well to remember that and tread warily. Surrendering on the suitcase issue seemed wise. She secured the towel around the shivering dog and cradled him like a baby.

Working for anyone in the oil-rich Steele family would prove to be a boon in more ways than one. She could pad her résumé in a way her previous jobs hadn’t provided. And being with the Steele family could give her the opportunity to somehow make peace with her past. She desperately needed to find resolution for how the long-ago tragedy in Marshall’s life had eventually led to her own father’s suicide. He’d been her last living relative, other than a newborn baby she’d given up the next year.

How surreal that her life, her past, was so entwined with this man’s. Not that he or his family even knew who she was. And she preferred to keep it that way for now. As far as they knew, she was just the temporary maid service.

But she was also the daughter of the drunk airplane mechanic responsible for the death of Marshall’s mother and sister.

“Nugget, it appears our quiet bachelor-pad lifestyle has suffered an invasion,” Marshall Steele said to his scrappy little mutt, currently sprawled on the bathroom floor, clearly savoring the heated tiles.

Easing the arm of a T-shirt over his cast, Marshall couldn’t stop thinking about the new cleaning lady who would be living under his roof for the next six weeks.

He preferred the solitude of his ranch home, or of recreational time spent riding and reading. Solitude was something the rest of his overlarge family didn’t seem to understand. The cleaning lady was the latest in their well-meaning attempts to help him. He’d thought their insisting on the holiday charity fund-raiser being held at his house was a rather heavy-handed way of interfering with his social life. But sending a sexy woman to live in his house for the next six weeks was definitely going overboard.

And yes, he was grouchy as hell after taking a tumble at the end of a rodeo ten days ago, breaking his dominant arm in two places. The cast and sling left him barely able to dress himself. He was stuck wearing shirts a size too large so he could wedge his cast through. Thanks to one ill-timed kick from a horse, he couldn’t even manage to save a ten-pound mutt from a paddle in a pool.

A mutt currently drifting off to sleep, unimpressed with anything Marshall had to say.

He worked the button fly on his jeans, trying to keep his mind off images of his new housekeeper in her suite changing into dry clothes, too. Images of her sleeping under his roof at night.