hair and weather-bronzed complexion gave evidence of his woodsman persona. His gaze meandered over her from head to foot, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.
“Oh, right!” She stopped short and planted her feet apart, hands on her hips. “Make me look bad, why don’t you. Where was that get-up yesterday? It’s what you should have worn to the funeral.”
“To drive a tractor down a mud bog of a road and shovel in a grave?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well…” She strode over to the coffeemaker and checked its progress. When she glanced at him, she saw him watching her with that catlike intensity she was coming to know only too well. It’s as if he can see right down into my deepest thoughts and emotions.
“What are you planning to do once the will is read?” He snapped her out of her inane thoughts.
“Catch the next flight home.” She reached for cups on the top shelf and felt her skirt ride up. Grabbing at it, she stepped back.
“Here, let me.” He brushed past her with a scent of something like the forest after a spring shower. Or a really nice masculine soap.
“How many?” He’d paused with a pair of cups in his hands, looking down at her with those mesmerizing golden-brown eyes.
“What? Oh, four should be enough. I’m not sure if the lawyer will be coming alone. Best to be prepared.” Her words stumbled. I’m CFO of a major corporation. I’m the first female executive they’ve had in one hundred and fifty years of operation. Now this…this savage is turning me into a stuttering teenager just by smelling half-decent and looking…
“Saucers?” He placed four cups on the counter.
“What? Oh, right, of course, saucers.”
“There you go.” He put them beside the cups but didn’t move away from her. “Now back to our previous conversation. You know I was asking what you’ll do with the Chance.” His words were hard and clipped this time, even as his continued proximity made butterflies burst from cocoons in the centre of her body.
“Still a little cranky from our scuffle this morning, are we?” She pulled herself out of his sphere of control and sauntered across the kitchen to take coffee spoons from a drawer. Getting back in the game, girl. Good for you.
“Old news. Right now I’m concerned about seeing Jack’s wishes carried out.”
“I assume my mother, being his only child, will inherit everything…except the legendary salmon rod.” She swung to face him. “When she does, she’ll have no choice but to sell. She’s not about to leave my father in order to operate this place, and he can’t relocate here.”
“Jack wanted the Chance to stay in his family.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You could take it over.” He moved to tower above her. “You’re supposed to be a financial wizard, a pioneer female executive in that company of yours, according to Jack.”
“Me? Take on this place?” The words were a gusty exhale. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ve got a responsibility to Jack’s memory.” He strode over to the percolator and took a mug from a cupboard above it. “What did you leave behind in Toronto? A high-priced chrome-and-glass apartment and an office with a view of the next high-rise? Maybe some stiff-assed boyfriend with about as much guts as a worm?”
“That coffee is for lunch.” She snatched the cup from his hand.
“Fine. Maybe it’s time I hit some of Jack’s twelve-year-old Scotch.”
He started toward the dining room, but she dashed to block his way.
“Oh, no, you don’t! I won’t have whiskey on your breath when the lawyer arrives.”
“Stop giving orders.” His eyes glinted gold fire. “You don’t own this place yet.”
“Technically, no, but actually, yes. Watch it, Mister God’s Gift to Women, or I’ll fire you here and now!” She was on tiptoes trying to get face to face with him as she sputtered out her threat, and suddenly he burst out laughing.
“You do that,” he chuckled finally. “You just
“Oh, right!” She stopped short and planted her feet apart, hands on her hips. “Make me look bad, why don’t you. Where was that get-up yesterday? It’s what you should have worn to the funeral.”
“To drive a tractor down a mud bog of a road and shovel in a grave?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well…” She strode over to the coffeemaker and checked its progress. When she glanced at him, she saw him watching her with that catlike intensity she was coming to know only too well. It’s as if he can see right down into my deepest thoughts and emotions.
“What are you planning to do once the will is read?” He snapped her out of her inane thoughts.
“Catch the next flight home.” She reached for cups on the top shelf and felt her skirt ride up. Grabbing at it, she stepped back.
“Here, let me.” He brushed past her with a scent of something like the forest after a spring shower. Or a really nice masculine soap.
“How many?” He’d paused with a pair of cups in his hands, looking down at her with those mesmerizing golden-brown eyes.
“What? Oh, four should be enough. I’m not sure if the lawyer will be coming alone. Best to be prepared.” Her words stumbled. I’m CFO of a major corporation. I’m the first female executive they’ve had in one hundred and fifty years of operation. Now this…this savage is turning me into a stuttering teenager just by smelling half-decent and looking…
“Saucers?” He placed four cups on the counter.
“What? Oh, right, of course, saucers.”
“There you go.” He put them beside the cups but didn’t move away from her. “Now back to our previous conversation. You know I was asking what you’ll do with the Chance.” His words were hard and clipped this time, even as his continued proximity made butterflies burst from cocoons in the centre of her body.
“Still a little cranky from our scuffle this morning, are we?” She pulled herself out of his sphere of control and sauntered across the kitchen to take coffee spoons from a drawer. Getting back in the game, girl. Good for you.
“Old news. Right now I’m concerned about seeing Jack’s wishes carried out.”
“I assume my mother, being his only child, will inherit everything…except the legendary salmon rod.” She swung to face him. “When she does, she’ll have no choice but to sell. She’s not about to leave my father in order to operate this place, and he can’t relocate here.”
“Jack wanted the Chance to stay in his family.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You could take it over.” He moved to tower above her. “You’re supposed to be a financial wizard, a pioneer female executive in that company of yours, according to Jack.”
“Me? Take on this place?” The words were a gusty exhale. “Are you crazy?”
“You’ve got a responsibility to Jack’s memory.” He strode over to the percolator and took a mug from a cupboard above it. “What did you leave behind in Toronto? A high-priced chrome-and-glass apartment and an office with a view of the next high-rise? Maybe some stiff-assed boyfriend with about as much guts as a worm?”
“That coffee is for lunch.” She snatched the cup from his hand.
“Fine. Maybe it’s time I hit some of Jack’s twelve-year-old Scotch.”
He started toward the dining room, but she dashed to block his way.
“Oh, no, you don’t! I won’t have whiskey on your breath when the lawyer arrives.”
“Stop giving orders.” His eyes glinted gold fire. “You don’t own this place yet.”
“Technically, no, but actually, yes. Watch it, Mister God’s Gift to Women, or I’ll fire you here and now!” She was on tiptoes trying to get face to face with him as she sputtered out her threat, and suddenly he burst out laughing.
“You do that,” he chuckled finally. “You just
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