Surrender to Temptation (3 page)

He stopped, turned, and flashed a smile. “No, it isn’t. Now, if you want a paycheck or severance monies—”

“I don’t take charity,” Nikki interrupted.

“I’ll gladly pay you for the time you so badly want to spend here,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Winston!”

Nikki lost it. “You know what? A baboon has better etiquette than you. You are the rudest and most arrogant man I’ve ever met. That poor man,” she pointed toward the door through which Winston and Mrs. B had disappeared, “drove for hours to pick me up and bring me to your ranch, and now you want him to drive me back again? How can you disregard his well-being? Where’s your sympathy for someone of his advanced age?”

Fitzgerald laughed, blue eyes twinkling, and she fought the urge to chuck her computer bag at his head. That she found his eyes mesmerizing only added to her ire. She’d always had a thing for blue eyes. Worse, she had let her temper get the better of her. His foreman was strong and ageless like the old cowboys who drove cattle from sunrise to sundown with nothing but a canteen of water and salted, dry meat.

She bit her lower lip as she tried to control her annoyance and come up with another argument. When she looked up, he was staring at her with cocked eyebrows as though challenging her.

“I can sue you for breach of contract,” she said triumphantly and grinned.
Take that, you arrogant blue-eyed cowboy.

The smile died on his lips, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

He turned his head sideways and contemplated her, his eyes traveling down her jean-clad legs then back up before lingering on her lips. Her senses leaped as though he’d run his large hands over her body. Of all the times for her body to betray her, this was the worst. Things only got worse when his eyes found hers and he gave her a slow, wicked smile.

Warmth unfurled in her stomach.

“This is not really about working for me, is it?” he asked. “You are here for whole different reason, aren’t you, sweetheart? Why don’t I just create one of my signature picnic meals? Then the two of us can ride out to my creek and get to know each other better, hmm?”

His voice had gone huskily low, and Nikki’s breath caught at the picture his words evoked, her brain sending provocative messages to her body. Her stomach tilted. Okay, this was bad. Just because she’d stopped dating after her sister’s accident didn’t mean she had to act like a love-starved idiot in the presence of this cowboy. The sooner she finished here, the faster she’d get to the truth and go home.

She forced herself to laugh. “Look. I don’t know what kind of web designers your uncle sent out here before me. I’m good at what I do. And FYI, I have no idea what your signature picnic meals are. I live on fast food and love it. My sister tried to—” She stopped and shook her head. “Bottom line is I’m here for one thing and one thing only, to create your website.”

Silence followed, and Nikki’s hopes rose. Maybe she’d gotten through to him.

The insufferable man shook his head, his voice slightly amused when he spoke. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll find someone else.”

Nikki sighed in defeat as he strode across the foyer. The door opened, and Winston walked into the room, forcing Fitzgerald to stop.

“Ah, there you are. Ms. Savoy is ready to leave now.”

“I’m sorry, boss. That’s not possible,” the foreman said, cutting across the room to stand by Nikki. Mrs. B entered the room, but she stayed by the door.

“What isn’t possible?” Fitzgerald asked.

“Taking Ms. Nikki back,” Winston added. “The radiator of the SUV is leaking. I need to fix it.”

Fitzgerald frowned. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. My new Land Rover has a leaky radiator?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” the foreman answered. “We had to stop several times to let the engine cool.”

Nikki blinked at the lie. The car had purred like a newborn kitten.

Fitzgerald’s eyebrows shot up. “The Ram?”

“Tucker took it to Circle R to get the mares,” Winston replied.

“And the car in the garage?” His face was now expressionless.
 

Winston winced. “Bad back, I can’t fit in those tiny foreign cars. Besides, they’re stick shift and I’m used to automatic.”

Nikki watched their exchange with rounded eyes. Mrs. B listened from the other side of the room, a tiny smile of approval on her lined face.

Fitzgerald’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. Mac is too busy to drive her.”
 

“He’s had a touch too much sun and is taking it easy. Might even be the flu. It’s been going around the last couple of weeks.”

Fitzgerald’s brow shot up again. “I though he went with Tucker to get the mares.”

“He did, and he’s also not feeling well.” Winston grimaced. “Big Joe and Little Joe are working on Philly’s shoes.” The foreman glanced at Nikki. “Philly is one of the broodmares. She’s due to foal any time now. Her foal will be the first one born at Eagles Hill. We are very excited about that.” He glanced at his boss, who was glaring at him. “Uh, that’s about it.”

“You forgot Mrs. B,” Fitzgerald prompted in a flat voice.

The foreman glanced at Mrs. B, and for the first time, he appeared at a loss for words. “Sally, uh…”

“I’m trying to fix the stoves,” Mrs. B said. Glowering, she came to stand on Nikki’s other side.

Nikki couldn’t believe they were siding with her. She wanted to hug and thank them, but their boss was scowling so hard at them she didn’t dare.

“One of the fuses went poof and now none of the stoves work,” Mrs. B continued. “If I’m to fix dinner, I need time to fix it. A lot of time.”

In other words, there would be no dinner on his table if he forced her to leave. This time, Nikki had a hard time hiding her grin. They had him.

“Is there anything else that’s broken down in the last five minutes I should know about?”

Winston and Mrs. B stared at each other, then at him, and shook their heads.

“Hmm, too bad,” Fitzgerald said. “Excuse me. I need to make a phone call.”

“Does that mean Ms. Savoy stays?” Mrs. B asked.

“It means you have a fuse to fix,” he retorted and disappeared inside a room behind them.

Nikki waited until the door closed behind him, blew out air, and smiled, first at Mrs. B and then at the foreman. “Thank you, Mrs. B… Mr. Winston.”

Mrs. B grinned, gripping Nikki’s hand. “You were wonderful standing up to him like you did, Ms. Savoy. I’m Sally Briscoe, housekeeper and cook, but you can call me Sally or Mrs. B. How long did you say you plan to stay?”

“My flight leaves on Friday, two weeks from tomorrow. And, please, call me Nikki.”

“Nikki it is.” Mrs. B chuckled and took Nikki’s arm. “Come on to the kitchen and have something to drink. You must be thirsty after your journey.” Mrs. B pushed a door. “Perhaps a tall glass of lemonade?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.” Nikki gave the door Fitzgerald had disappeared through one last glance before following the older woman and Winston into the kitchen.

The mixture of spices and wood wax enveloped Nikki, and she inhaled. Her eyes fell on the half hexagon cherry cabinet and counter with the granite top. Curving from the sink and the cupboards and offering a surface for a group of up to five to sit and eat comfortably, it was a work of art, and anyone who loved to cook would appreciate the width and accessibility. In the center was the kitchen island with a large bowl of fresh fruit. The kitchen boasted a large grill and two ovens, and at the corner were a commercial size stainless steel refrigerator and freezer. Ladder-back stools with fluffy rusty-colored cushions were placed strategically around the counter.

To the right were a striped brown and burnt-orange couch and two matching chairs facing a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. The TV was on with the volume turned down. That sitting area had a rusty colored carpet, but the rest of the kitchen had wooden flooring like the foyer. Nikki spied cooking paraphernalia through the glass doors of the cherry cabinets.

Nikki’s eyes smarted as thoughts of Dee zipped through her head. Her sister would be in seventh heaven here. The room was a cook’s dream kitchen.

Mrs. B was holding her heavy bosom and laughing at something the foreman had said until she caught Nikki’s expression. “There’s no need to look like that, child,” she said, hurrying to Nikki’s side and taking her arm. “You’ve won. Ever since the accident, we’ve let that young man get away with everything. I’m afraid we’ve spoilt him dreadfully. But your presence here is goin’ to bring some very interesting changes. Oh yes, very interesting changes indeed.” The housekeeper chuckled.

“Explain to me how I’ve won, Mrs. B?” Nikki asked.

Mrs. B pulled out a chair for Nikki while grinning. “Because you’re not goin’ anywhere and Chase knows it. He was just venting his frustrations. C’mon, sit down, and I’ll get you that tall glass of lemonade.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Nikki.

“Just Mrs. B or Sally.” Mrs. B glanced up at Nikki and grinned. “Where’s your luggage?”

“In the Land Rover,” Nikki said.

“Can I bring them inside, Sally?” Winston asked.

“Yes, dear. Put them in the yellow room, and then come back for lemonade and a piece of pie.” They exchanged a smile that was both intimate and sweet. “Would you like a piece of pie too, dear?” Mrs. B asked as Winston left the room.

“Just the lemonade, thank you.” Nikki hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, but she didn’t think she could hold anything down. She was too tense.

Mrs. B carried a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, which she placed on the counter, and proceeded to fill up one. “Drink, child. I’ll go make sure Winston puts your bags in the right bedroom. Then I’ll show you around.” The woman patted Nikki’s shoulder and left the room.

Nikki sipped the lemonade and tried to calm her nerves, but she couldn’t sit still. The exchange between her and Fitzgerald had left her jittery. Was he kicking her out or letting her stay? How the hell was she going to convince the guy to talk to her when he didn’t want her in his home? She hated situations she couldn’t control.

Walking to the window, she studied the view and chewed on her lip. She could see the two barns, one white and the other red, and paddocks. A guy was rubbing down a horse.

Nikki shuddered. What had she gotten herself into here? She hated horses. Hated confrontations. Hated being out of her depth. Even as the thoughts crossed her mind, she knew why she had to stay. Dee needed her help. It always came back to her sister. The truth about what happened that night was out there, and she planned to find it.

Chase came into view, and Nikki straightened. He didn’t walk. He sauntered. Gracefully. Boy, could the man wear Levis. As though he was aware of her eyes on him, he turned and stared toward the house. Nikki didn’t move away from the window. He touched the tip of his cowboy hat and gave her a slow, smug smile.

What the hell did that smile mean? She hated that she couldn’t see his eyes.

She raised her drink.
Right back at you, cowboy.

CHAPTER 3

Playmate of the Month. Worse etiquette than a baboon.

The woman was unbelievable. Chase hurried from the house as though running away. What a crazy thought! He had never run from a woman in his life. Not even one as pig-headed, quick-witted, and beautiful as Nikki Savoy.

Who was he kidding? She wasn’t just any woman. He’d barely met her, yet everything about her mocked his solitary existence. Her smile. Her laugh. The feminine curve of her hips. Her presence cut through all the bullshit he’d been telling himself the last few months and knocked his wary ass to the ground.

His family had finally won. They wanted him to act like an average man? Normal? Chasing women? He was back, and he needed to get laid. It just wasn’t going to happen with a woman who made him lose control by just being in the same room with him. She had to go. She had even turned his faithful employees against him. That should rankle, but Chase found himself chuckling.

So consumed by his thoughts, Chase almost bumped into Tucker.

“How are Mystery and Buttercup?”

“Mystery is home. She’s in the southwest paddock.” Tucker nodded at the paddock behind the hay barn. “Buttercup won’t let Paladin near her.”

“I’ll talk to Dean about that. Did he give you Mystery’s papers?” Chase asked.

Tucker nodded. “Yes, boss. I put them in the tack room.”

“Good!” He would add them to the file in the den.

“We may have a slight problem with Ellie—a sand crack,” Tucker said as he fell in step with him.

Chase paused and squinted toward the coral where Elegant “Ellie” was grazing peacefully. He changed directions and walked toward the mare. “You saw a change in her gait?”

“Yes. When she walks, she extends her right foot far forward and then brings the heel down first,” the trainer explained. “Big Joe confirmed it. He thinks she was ridden shoeless.”

“Damn Hogan! Not only was he a thief and a drunk, he was also a slob.” Finn Hogan was the trainer Chase had hired before his accident, a man who could’ve ruined all his foals and mares had he stayed in Eagles Hill a day longer.
Mrs. B had caught him sneaking a drink from his basement a couple of months back. And not for the first time, she’d finally confessed.
If the trainer were still around, Chase would force him to pay for his laziness. He despised incompetence. Sand cracks left untreated led to lameness, and he had no intention of breeding lame horses. “Damn him.”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Tucker said. “I caught it early. Ellie will be fine. Big Joe doesn’t think she needs to see a vet.”

Chase nodded. Tucker was a man with an impeccable reputation. His former employer had declared bankruptcy, and Chase was lucky to offer him a job before a bigger breeding farm could woo him. He had to thank Aunt Siobhán, Dean’s mother, for that. Also turned out Tucker preferred smaller operations. Not that Chase planned to stay small. The Texan had only been in Eagles Hill for a month but was already respected by the others. He knew everything there was to know about racehorses, was hard working, and very competent—a blessing after Hogan.

“I should have double checked everything he did. I believed him when he reassured me he’d taken care of the mares.”

“I think the circumstances being what they were would have made that difficult,” Tucker said.

Yeah, his eyes. “That was no excuse.”

He walked to where Ellie grazed. He opened the gate and went into the corral. He patted Ellie’s leg before lifting it and examining her hoof.

“Can Joe take care of this now?” Chase asked.

“Yes, sir. We’ll thoroughly check all four of them. If Hogan didn’t bother with one hoof wall, then the other three were ignored as well.”

Chase swore again. Ellie was a chestnut Thoroughbred with good pedigree. Chase couldn’t afford to have something happen to her. “Do we have enough toe clips?”

“Yes. We might be running a little low on tetanus antitoxin though, but we have enough for Ms. Ellie,” Tucker said as they walked from the corral and headed toward the barn.

“Good. I’m taking Thunder out, but I’ll check with you when I get back. Let me know how bad that crack is.”

“Ellie is a sound filly. She’ll pull through this,” the trainer said confidently before he disappeared into the tack room.

Although a cracked heel was not something to laugh about, Chase smiled in satisfaction at the trainer’s reassuring tone. Tucker might be new, but he already understood that Chase expected nothing but the best for his horses. He worked hard and expected his ranch hands to follow his example. Everyone in Eagles Hill was accountable for his or her action, even though Chase tended to blame himself if anything went wrong. It was his responsibility to confirm that a task was completed according to his instructions. It wasn’t a sign that he thought his ranch hands were incompetent. That was the way he ran business. Luckily for him, his workers understood that and respected him enough not to be offended.

Chase checked on Mystery before heading to his horse. He was adjusting the saddle on Thunder when he saw Mrs. B leave the house and hurry toward him, clutching a cell phone. He reached for his cell at his waist and found the holder empty. He must have left it in his room.

“Who is it, Mrs. B?”

“Faith’s husband.” She waved the phone. “He insists on talking to you.”

Chase’s gut tightened. Ken Lambert, private investigator and security consultant, was married to his cousin Faith.

“Thanks.” He placed the cell phone on his ear. “Hey.”

“We need to talk.”

The knot in Chase’s gut tightened. “Are Faith and Lucas okay?”

“Yeah. This is business, not personal.”

He had hired Ken to investigate the fire at his restaurant. “Let me call you back in a few, okay?”

“Sure,” Ken said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chase slipped the phone in its holder and frowned. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the fire department to do a thorough investigation. With his ex-fiancée as a key witness, the Fire Marshal considered the case closed. Chase disagreed. A few things didn’t add up.

“Is everything okay with Faith?” Mrs. B asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“And baby Lucas?”

Faith’s pregnancy had been difficult, and her baby had arrived too early. “Better. Call her. I’m sure she would love to hear from you.” Mrs. B had often knocked heads with his stubborn cousin when they were growing up, yet Chase suspected she always had a soft spot for Faith. His unwanted guest’s stubbornness reminded him a bit of Faith. “Where is Ms. Savoy?”

Mrs. B glared at him. “Where else? In the kitchen, waiting for you. Poor child. She looks utterly defeated.”

Not when he’d last seen her. The look in her eyes had dared him to do his worst. He intended to. He just didn’t know what yet. Chase looked toward the canyon. He didn’t need to see Mrs. B’s chiding expression to know he had been unnecessarily rude to Miss Savoy.
 
He didn’t want to feel guilty, but he did.

Damn his family! He had been caught by surprise, and he hated surprises. That she wasn’t easily intimidated didn’t help either. Intelligent sassy women were his weakness.

Chase turned and saw Mrs. B’s expectant expression. “I didn’t want another female assistant.”

“I thought she’s only here to take care of your computer stuff.” Mrs. B put her hands on her hips and added, “Just because the other women acted like harlots don’t mean Ms. Savoy is like them. She was right to threaten to sue you.”

Chase refused to be drawn into another argument. “Is she any good with computers?”

“Now, you know I don’t talk computers, dear. If you want to find out, you’d better get back in there—hat in hand—apologize, and ask her yourself. You aren’t really going to send her away, are you?”

“That depends, Mrs. B,” he replied mysteriously.

“On what?” she asked. When he didn’t answer her, Mrs. B harrumphed, turned, and stomped away while muttering under her breath.

Depended on what? Whether he could control his responses to her or piss her off so she would high tail it out of his ranch? His bet was on the latter. A plan was already forming in his head.

Grinning, Chase rode by the paddocks where Philly and Mystery grazed. He watched Mystery for few seconds as she ate, and then he smiled in satisfaction. Now that the mare was breeding, he would observe her eating and drinking habits, as well as her emotional state for any changes.

He moved closer to Philly. Philly was one of the two Arabian broodmares. She had cost a lot of money to acquire but was worth every dollar. She had perfect conformation, was sound, and had a genetic background that any breeder would envy. She was also due in less than a month.

Other than Philly, Chase had one other Arabian mare—Philly’s cousin Wind Dancer; two Thoroughbreds—Mystery and Elegance; two Quarter horses—Buttercup and Royal, and one Hanoverian, Trinity.

Running successful restaurants and using part of his inheritance had made it possible for him to buy the best mares and start on his lifelong dream. Whether the dream became a reality would depend on his willpower, hard work, and knowledge of horseflesh. Right from when he was a child, he and his brothers and cousins would visit his Aunt Viv’s vineyard in Sonoma. Aunt Viv had quite a collection of horses. Chase might be learning about breeding racehorses, but he had a natural affinity with horses in general. With the help of Tucker and Winston, he would breed and train and, if possible, race some of the best horses in the Rocky Mountain region. He had no intention of turning his ranch into a money-sucking hole. Eagles Hill would one day be very profitable.

His ranch bordered Beaverhead National Forest in the Big Hole Valley. He had shady pines covering part of his property, plenty of runoffs from surrounding mountain ranges irrigating his land, and grassy meadows for natural hay for his horses.

Thunder grew restless with their pace, so Chase clucked and used his heels to urge her into a run. They took off, moving effortlessly through the familiar terrain. He reached the trees and slowed Thunder to a walk, until they reached the creek. Dismounting, Chase secured the mare, settled under a tree, leaned back, and rested his eyes.

If someone had told him a year ago, he’d prefer the company of whistling birds and bubbling brooks to rubbing shoulders with who’s who in Hollywood, he would have laughed. Being part of the inner circles of some celebrated movie and sports stars didn’t appeal to him anymore. Even before his accident, all that glitter had started to bore him. But he would not be content until the people responsible for destroying his restaurant were behind bars. The Fire Marshal had insisted there was not enough evidence to support his claim that Deanna Marshal hadn’t acted alone, that someone else had been in his kitchen that night. Since his ex-fiancée hadn’t supported him either, he’d had no choice but to hire a private detective.

Chase reached for his cell phone, opened his eyes, and speed dialed Ken’s number.

“I thought you blew me off,” Ken said.

Chase chuckled. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve been riding my ass for three months. Since we agreed on updates several times a week, here it is. Deanna Marshal is still in a coma. My informant doesn’t know when they’ll pull her out of it. She has one more operation to go.”

“Any unusual visitors?” Chase asked.

“Nope. Just the usual. Her parents, her sister, and her sister’s friend. Our informant said her sister was off somewhere on a cruise. Her so-called friends are still distancing themselves from her, but the few I talked to insist she wasn’t dating anyone before the accident. She was married to her job, and you.”

Chase winced. “Very funny, Lambert.”

“The general consensus is she had a huge crush on you and no man could measure up,” Ken teased, chuckling.

Chase sighed. He’d known about Deanna’s feelings and had originally planned to transfer her to his restaurant in Burbank.

“This only adds to the list of reasons why she wouldn’t have burned down my restaurant unless—”

“She was forced to,” Kenny finished.

“I didn’t imagine a male voice that night, Kenny.” He’d heard the deeper, more masculine voice before he staggered from his office.

“My people have checked every burn unit in the state, and none of the victims lied about where they were hurt or had any connection with Ms. Marshal.”

“My competitors?”

“Business at Java has doubled, but I haven’t found any connection between the owner and Ms. Marshal either. But we found where her family stored her things—at storage unit near her old apartment.”

“Did you find anything useful?”

“We found an old desktop with an old operating system, at least five years old, and a new laptop she hadn’t started using, which means she must have had another laptop since we found a power cord. Without her laptop, we can’t find places she’d visited and read her e-mails.”

“Can’t you find a way around it? Hack into her e-mail and internet provider account?”

Ken chuckled. “We are working on it. In the meantime, we are looking through the files in her thumb drives. Most of the files she backed up are recipes, but we found some pictures, too. Family pictures and some of her friends.”