Matt Caldwell: Texas Tycoon

“Nothing to do?” purred a soft, deep voice from behind Ed. The piercing dark eyes didn’t match the bantering tone.

“Sorry, Matt,” Ed said immediately. “I was just passing the time of day with Leslie. Can I do anything for you?”

“I need an update on that lot of cattle we placed with Ballenger,” he said. He stared at Leslie with narrowed eyes. “Your job, I believe?”

She swallowed and nodded, jerking her fingers on the keyboard so that she opened the wrong file and had to push the right buttons to close it again. Normally she wasn’t a nervous person, but he made her ill at ease, standing over her without speaking. Ed seemed to be a little twitchy, himself, because he moved back to his own office the minute the phone rang, placing himself out of the line of fire with an apologetic look that Leslie didn’t see.

“I thought you were experienced with computers,” Matt drawled mockingly as he paused beside her to look over her shoulder.

The feel of his powerful body so close behind her made every muscle tense. Her fingers froze on the keyboard, and she was barely breathing.

With a murmured curse, Matt stepped back to the side of the desk, fighting the most intense emotions he’d ever felt. He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks and glared at her.

She relaxed, but only enough to be able to pull up the file he wanted and print it for him.

He took it out of the printer tray when it was finished and gave it a slow perusal. He muttered something, and tossed the first page down on Leslie’s desk.

“Half these words are misspelled,” he said curtly.

She looked at it on the computer screen and nodded. “Yes, they are, Mr. Caldwell. I’m sorry, but I didn’t type it.”

Of course she hadn’t typed it, it was ten years old, but something inside him wanted to hold her accountable for it.

He moved away from the desk as he read the rest of the pages. “You can do this file—and the others—over,” he murmured as he skimmed. “The whole damned thing’s illiterate.”

She knew that there were hundreds of records in this particular batch of files, and that it would take days, not minutes or hours, to complete the work. But he owned the place, so he could set the rules. She pursed her lips and glanced at him speculatively. Now that he was physically out of range, she felt safe again. “Your wish is my command, boss,” she murmured dryly, surprising a quick glance from him. “Shall I just put aside all of Ed’s typing and devote the next few months to this?”

Her change of attitude from nervous kid to sassy woman caught him off guard. “I didn’t put a time limit on it,” Matt said curtly. “I only said, do it!”

“Oh, yes, sir,” she agreed at once, and smiled vacantly.

He drew in a short breath and glared down at her. “You’re remarkably eager to please, Miss Murry. Or is it just because I’m the boss?”

“I always try to do what I’m asked to do, Mr. Caldwell,” she assured him. “Well, almost always,” she amended. “Within reason.”

He moved back toward the desk. As he leaned over to put down the papers she’d printed for him, he saw her visibly tense. She was the most confounding woman he’d ever known, a total mystery.

“What would you define as ‘within reason’?” he drawled, holding her eyes.

She looked hunted. Amazing, that she’d been jovial and uninhibited just seconds before. Her stiff expression made him feel oddly guilty. He turned away. “Ed! Have you got my Angus file?” he called to his cousin through the open door to Ed’s private office.

Ed was off the phone and he had a file folder in his hands. “Yes, sorry. I wanted to check the latest growth figures and projected weight gain ratios. I meant to put it back on your desk and I got busy.”

Matt studied the figures quietly and then nodded. “That’s acceptable. The Ballenger brothers do a good job.”

“They’re expanding, did you know?” Ed chuckled. “Nice to see them prospering.”

“Yes, it is. They’ve worked hard enough in their lives to warrant a little prosperity.”

While he spoke, Leslie was watching him covertly. She thought about the six-year-old boy whose mother had given him away, and it wrung her heart. Her own childhood had been no picnic, but Matt’s upbringing had been so much worse.

He felt those soft gray eyes on his face, and his own gaze jerked down to meet them. She flushed and looked away.

He wondered what she’d been thinking to produce such a reaction. She couldn’t have possibly made it plainer that she felt no physical attraction to him, so why the wide-eyed stare? It puzzled him. So many things about her puzzled him. She was neat and attractively dressed, but those clothes would have suited a dowager far better than a young woman. While he didn’t encourage short skirts and low-cut blouses, Leslie was covered from head to toe; long dress, long sleeves, high neck buttoned right up to her throat.

“Need anything else?” Ed asked abruptly, hoping to ward off more trouble.

Matt’s powerful shoulders shrugged. “Not for the moment.” He glanced once more at Leslie. “Don’t forget those files I want updated.”

After he walked out, Ed stared after him for a minute, frowning. “What files?”

She explained it to him.

“But those are outdated,” Ed murmured thoughtfully. “And he never looks at them. I don’t understand why he has to have them corrected at all.”

She leaned forward. “Because it will irritate me and make me work harder!” she said in a stage whisper. “God forbid that I should have time to twiddle my thumbs.”

His eyebrows arched. “He isn’t vindictive.”

“That’s what you think.” She picked up the file Matt had left and grimaced as she put it back in the filing cabinet. “I’ll start on those when I’ve finished answering your mail. Do you suppose he wants me to stay over after work to do them? He’d have to pay me overtime.” She grinned impishly, a reminder of the woman she’d once been. “Wouldn’t that make his day?”

“Let me ask him,” Ed volunteered. “Just do your usual job for now.”

“Okay. Thanks, Ed.”

He shrugged. “What are friends for?” he murmured with a smile.

The office was a great place to work. Leslie had a ball watching the other women in the executive offices lie in wait for Matt. His secretary caught him trying to light a cigar out on the balcony, and she let him have it from behind a potted tree with the water pistol. He laid the cigar down on Bessie David’s desk and she “accidentally” dropped it into his half-full coffee cup that he’d set down next to it. He held it up, dripping, with an accusing look at Bessie.

“You told me to do it, sir,” Bessie reminded him.

He dropped the sodden cigar back in the coffee and left it behind. Leslie, having seen the whole thing, ducked into the rest room to laugh. It amazed her that Matt was so easygoing and friendly to his other employees. To Leslie, he was all bristle and venom. She wondered what he’d do if she let loose with a water pistol. She chuckled, imagining herself tearing up Main Street in Jacobsville ahead of a cursing Matt Caldwell. It was such a pity that she’d changed so much. Before tragedy had touched her young life, she would have been very attracted to the tall, lean cattleman.

A few days later, he came into Ed’s office dangling a cigar from his fingers. Leslie, despite her amusement at the antics of the other secretaries, didn’t say a word at the sight of the unlit cigar.

“I want to see the proposal the Cattlemen’s Association drafted about brucellosis testing.”

She stared at him. “Sir?”

He stared back. She was getting easier on his eyes, and he didn’t like his reactions to her. She was repulsed by him. He couldn’t get past that because it destroyed his pride. “Ed told me he had a copy of it,” he elaborated. “It came in the mail yesterday.”

“Okay.” She knew where the mail was kept. Ed tried to ignore it, leaving it in the In box until Leslie dumped it on his desk in front of him and refused to leave until he dealt with it. This usually happened at the end of the week, when it had piled up and over-flowed into the Out box.

She rummaged through the box and produced a thick letter from the Cattlemen’s Association, unopened. She carried it back through and handed it to Matt.

He’d been watching her walk with curious intensity. She was limping. He couldn’t see her legs, because she was wearing loose knit slacks with a tunic that flowed to her thighs as she walked. Very obviously, she wasn’t going to do anything to call attention to her figure.

“You’re limping,” he said. “Did you see a doctor after that fall you took at my ranch?”