Courting The Cowboy Boss

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. You must have a knack for numbers.”

“I have an associate business degree. But most of the hands-on stuff is self-taught. It’s important to discern what a client wants and then be able to provide it. Especially in a service industry like mine. You have to stand out from the pack.”

“Very true, I’m sure.” He finished his meal and stood to get more coffee. He held out the coffeepot. “More for you?”

Mellie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d better get back to work.”

“Not so fast,” he said. The urge to detain her was unsettling. He had plenty to keep him busy. But he didn’t want to walk away from Mellie. “Tell me about yourself.”

Mellie smiled wryly. “Is that really necessary?”

“Humor me.”

“Well...”

He watched her search for words and wondered if she was going to avoid any mention of her father. Fortunately, he was a patient man...so he waited.

She shrugged. “It’s not very exciting. I grew up in Royal. My mom died of cancer when I was sixteen. My dad went into a tailspin of grief, meaning I ended up being the parent in our relationship. I knew I wanted to start my own business, so I looked around and tried to find something that filled a niche. Royal had an industrial cleaning company but nothing smaller, other than individuals who worked for themselves.”

“And here you are.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Working for the brand-new president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”

“Are all your employees as eye-catching in that uniform as you are?”

Her jaw dropped a centimeter. “Um...”

“Sorry. Was that out of line?”

“More like unexpected.” She stared at him, gaze narrowed, clearly trying to get inside his head. “Someone told me that you don’t like women invading your house.”

He winced. Royal’s gossipy grapevine was alive and well. “That’s not exactly accurate.”

“No?” She cocked her head as if to say she knew he was skirting the truth.

“I like my privacy. But since I have neither the time nor the inclination to round up dust bunnies or clean out the fridge, I have to make compromises.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m accustomed to wealthy people who barely even acknowledge the presence of a service worker. We’re invisible to them. Nonentities.”

He frowned. “I can’t speak for all the comfortably well-to-do families in Royal, but my friends aren’t like that.”

“If you say so. And for the record, Case, no one would describe you as only ‘comfortably well-to-do.’”

Mellie Winslow had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she wasn’t trying to hide it now. “Does my lifestyle offend you, Mellie?” he asked gently, wondering if she would rise to the bait.

She sat back in her chair, pushing a few stray wisps of hair from her forehead. The set of her jaw was mutinous. “Let’s just say that I don’t have a single Modigliani hanging in my hallway.”

“My parents were art collectors. They traveled the world. But believe me when I tell you I would trade every sculpture and painting in this house to have Mom and Dad back with me for just one day.”

* * *

Mellie knew she had stepped in it...big-time. She felt hot color roll from her throat to her forehead. The taste of shame was unpleasant. “I am so sorry, Case. You’re right, of course. Relationships matter more than things. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

He grinned at her, his scruffy chin making him dangerously attractive. His hair was still damp from his shower. “Don’t get carried away. Money is good for a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

He leaned his chair back on two legs, defying gravity, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Flying to Paris for the weekend. Buying a yacht. Scoring Super Bowl tickets. Supporting a charity. Spoiling a woman.”

She had a feeling he threw that last one in to get a reaction.

There was a reaction. But it happened someplace he couldn’t actually see. She cleared her throat. “Being spoiled is nice, but most women I know want to take care of themselves.”

For the first time, she saw a shadow of cynicism on his face. “Maybe you know the wrong rich people and I know the wrong women.”

Mellie stood abruptly, feeling out of her depth and alarmingly sympathetic toward the man who’d been born and reared with every possible advantage. “There’s more soup on the stove, if you’re still hungry. I really do have to get busy.”

Case unfolded that long, lean body of his from the chair and joined her at the dishwasher, his hands brushing hers as he put his plate alongside her cup. She felt his breath on her cheek when he spoke. “Is your boss such a slave driver?” he muttered.

She turned around to face him. They were almost in an embrace, the counter at her back and one big contrary cowboy planted in front of her. She lifted her chin and propped her hands behind her. “I’m the boss, Case. And I don’t need to be spoiled. If I want to fly to Paris this weekend, I’ll buy my own ticket.”

His gaze settled on her lips. For one heart-thumping second, she knew he was going to kiss her. “Don’t be so touchy, Mellie. There’s nothing wrong with a man doing nice things for a woman.”

Things? Oh, Lordy. “Um, no... I guess not.” She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you flirting with me, Case Baxter?”

He shrugged, a half smile doing interesting things to that enticing mouth. “What happens if I say yes?” His thick eyelashes settled at half-mast. She could smell the soap from his shower and his warm skin.

Her inclination was to tell him. The truth. The shivery, weak-in-the-knees truth. She wanted hot, sweaty, no-holds-barred sex with Case Baxter on his newly made bed.