Seduction And The Ceo

Stephanie compressed her lips in frustration. “You’ve written her off after one date? You know, you’re never going to meet a woman if you don’t get out there and-”

“I’m ‘out there’ 24/7, little sister.” He gestured around the spread. “That’s what pays for all of this.”

Stephanie pointed her nose in the air. “Ryder Equestrian Center brought in a million dollars last year.”

Jared snorted a laugh. “While you spent four million.”

“We also provided dozens of marketing opportunities for the firm, and we improved your corporate image. That is priceless.”

“You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”

“You should get married, Jared.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be angling for a mother figure?”

“I’m looking for a sister now. You should find someone young and fun. Who likes horses,” she added for good measure, kicking her mare into a faster walk.

Jared shook his head. Between the revelation his grandfather had spoken on his deathbed, the mayor and the media, and Ryder International’s accountant’s concerns that the company was expanding too fast, Jared didn’t have a scrap of emotional or intellectual energy left over for romance.

As he followed Stephanie past the open door of a stable, a sudden tingle spread up his spine. He turned sharply and locked gazes with a blond-haired, green-eyed beauty who stood just inside the main doorway. She was wearing blue jeans and a crisp white shirt, and she held a manure fork in both hands.

She quickly glanced away, but his radar pinged.

What was it?

He stared at her a little longer.

It was the makeup. Her makeup was subtle, but she was definitely wearing some. And he’d bet her blond highlights were from a salon, not the sunshine. Her collared shirt was pressed, and the hands that held the manure fork were soft, bare, no gloves.

“Who’s that?” he asked his sister.

Stephanie turned and followed the direction of his gaze.

“Why? You think she’s pretty?”

Anyone could see the woman was gorgeous. But that wasn’t the point.

“I think she’s a rank greenhorn,” he said.

“Her name’s Melissa…something. Webster, I think. You want me to introduce you?” The calculating flare was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

“Stop,” Jared ordered.

His sister grinned unrepentantly.

“What I want you to do,” he continued with exaggerated patience, “is to hire experienced staff. We’re blowing enough money on this place as it is.”

“She needed a job,” said Stephanie. “She’s from Indiana.”

He wasn’t sure what the hell Indiana had to do with anything. While he watched, the woman awkwardly scooped a pile of horse manure from the wooden floor and dumped it into a wheelbarrow. “If she needed a million dollars, would you give it to her?”

“She didn’t ask for a million dollars. She’s on her way to Seattle. She needed money for bus fare.”

“You’re hiring transients now?”

“She’s mucking out our stalls, Jared, not signing the company checks.”

“I’m not worried about embezzlement. I’m worried about labor cost efficiency.”

He was also worried something wasn’t quite right. Why would a woman that polished take a menial job for bus fare?

She could be running away from something, he supposed. Or she could be running from someone. Which seemed more likely. An ex-boyfriend? Someone’s angry wife? It had better not be the FBI or the state troopers.

He considered her delicate profile, trying to decide if she was a criminal. She tackled the next pile of manure, her city-soft hands sliding up and down the wooden handle.

“She’s going to get blisters,” he voiced the thought out loud.

“You want to give her some gloves?” asked Stephanie.

“Somebody better,” he conceded. Aimless wanderer or criminal on the run, if they were going to employ her, the least they could do was make sure she avoided injury.

“Hey, Melissa,” Stephanie called.

The woman paused and glanced up.

“Grab some gloves out of the storeroom.”

Melissa gave her hands a puzzled look.

“She hasn’t a clue,” said Jared, hit with an unexpected flash of pity. Maybe she was running from an angry ex. He quickly reined in his thoughts. None of his business.

“You sure you don’t want me to introduce you?” Stephanie singsonged.

Jared turned Tango toward the house. “You going to show me your trophy or what?”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yes, I can.” But Jared glanced over his shoulder one last time as they moved away. Manure fork balanced in the crook of her elbow, the woman named Melissa was wriggling her fingers into the pair of stiff leather gloves. The fork slipped and banged to the wooden floor. The sound startled a horse. The horse startled the woman. She tripped on the fork and landed with a thud on her backside.

Their gazes met once more, his amused, hers annoyed.

He turned away, but the flash of emerald stayed with him as he followed Stephanie to the hitching rail in front of the house.

Two

By the end of the day, the bruise on Melissa’s left butt cheek had settled to a dull ache.

While she swept the last of the straw from the stable floor, a late-model Bentley rumbled its way to the front of the farmhouse. The glossy black exterior might be dusty, but it was still one impressive automobile. And the chauffeur who jumped out of the driver’s seat was crisp in his uniform.

She moved into the oversize doorway, leaning on the end of the broom handle while she waited to see who would emerge from the backseat.

It was an older man, distinguished in a Savile Row suit. He was tall, with a head of thick silver hair. He nodded politely to the chauffeur, then headed up the stairs to the wraparound porch, where both Stephanie and Jared appeared to greet him and usher him inside.

The chauffeur shut the car door. He glanced curiously around the ranch yard before moving to open the trunk. Melissa peered at the house, but there was no way to guess what was going on inside. The man might be a friend, or perhaps he was a business associate.

Jared’s sister’s house seemed like an odd location for a business meeting. Unless, of course, somebody wanted to keep the meeting a secret. Now that was an interesting possibility. Was there something clandestine in the works for Ryder International?

As the chauffeur had before her, Melissa glanced curiously around the yard. Several young riders were practicing jumps in the main ring, their grooms and trainers watching. A group of stable hands were loading hay into a pickup truck beside the biggest barn, and three cowboys were urging a small herd of horses across the river with a pair of border collies lending a hand. Nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to the Bentley.

Then another vehicle appeared and pulled up to the house. This one was an SUV, larger but no less luxurious than the Bentley.

A thirtysomething man with dark glasses and curly dark hair stepped out of the driver’s seat. He looked Mediterranean, and he was definitely not a chauffeur. He wore loafers, well-cut blue jeans, an open white dress