Dylan sat in the corner booth of the Bronco Diner, his legs stretched out comfortably under the table, and sipped a cup of hot coffee a pretty little brunette waitress kept filled. He’d polished off a hamburger and french fries a few minutes ago, then settled back with his coffee to enjoy the entertainment, which was watching Jessica in another booth across the aisle interview an interesting assortment of potential foremen.
She’d dressed very businesslike today, Dylan noted. Her navy blue suit was tailored, the skirt resting conservatively at her knees. She’d buttoned her white blouse to the neck and tightly pulled her dark hair to the back of her head, held there by a gold barrette. It was an obvious but futile attempt to downplay her femininity and discourage male interest.
Didn’t she realize that by dressing so severely she actually encouraged a man’s fantasy? Dylan had seen the way the men had looked at her: like they wanted to strip that suit off, pull her hair loose, then drag her slim body underneath their own. The woman was too naive for her own good, Dylan thought, his irritation building as each man took the seat across from Jessica.
Her sixth and current applicant, a long-nosed, thin-haired redhead, had never actually worked in construction, he explained, but had helped his brother-in-law build a carport once. When the man proceeded to describe the building of the structure in excruciating detail, Jessica quickly thanked him for coming and told him she’d call as soon as she made her decision.
Dylan had given Jessica his application over an hour ago, but she had yet to call him. Every time she finished an interview, she’d smile at him, then call someone else. Since there was only one more applicant left, a heavyset man with whiskers, she couldn’t put off the inevitable much longer.
And since he had all the time in the world, Dylan ordered a piece of apple pie and settled back to wait.
The interview ended quickly after the heavyset man referred to Jessica as “girlie.”
When she finally turned to Dylan, he raised his brows and gave her a blank look. She frowned at him, then picked up one application and crossed over to him. She looked tired, he thought. And frustrated.
“Mr. Grant,” she said, staring at the form in her hand, “I’ve gone over your application.”
He gestured for her to sit across from him. “Is there a problem?”
She hesitated, then tugged off her jacket and sat.
“I’d say so. You have a structural-engineering degree from Indiana University, and you’ve worked on everything from high-rise construction to the building of bridges in the jungles of South America.”
“Does that disqualify me?”
“No, it overqualifies you.” She stretched her neck with a weary sigh, then undid the top button of her blouse. “Mr. Grant, did you read my ad in the paper this morning?”
He forced himself not to look as her fingers fiddled with the button. “My name is Dylan, and yes, I did read your ad.”
“Then you know how much I can afford to pay?”
He nodded.
“And you still want the job?”
She unclipped the barrette from her hair. Dylan watched as she shook her head and pulled her fingers through the thick strands. He felt hotter than the weather warranted, and his pulse began to pound.
He had to remind himself she’d asked him a question, then searched his brain to remember what it was. “Yes. I do want the job.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t get it. You can have your pick of jobs and make ten times the salary anywhere else. Why in the world would you come here and work for the proverbial peanuts?”
“Would you like some more coffee, Dylan?”
Jessica glanced up at the waitress, Susan Davis, and frowned again. Dylan? Wasn’t it strange, she thought irritably, that she’d been sitting in this restaurant for over an hour and she’d had her cup refilled only once? She was sure Dylan’s cup had never dropped more than a quarter inch. So what if he filled out a T-shirt and jeans well? So what if that long dark hair and rough slow-talking voice made a woman’s knees turn to water? She was a customer here, too, and the waitress’s selective efficiency was quickly grating on Jessica’s nerves. And so was the smile Dylan was so warmly displaying.
“Thanks, Susan.” Dylan pushed his cup closer. “And bring the lady here a hamburger and fries, please. I think she worked up an appetite interviewing all those men.”
Susan? It certainly hadn’t taken him long to get chummy, Jessica thought. “Never mind. I’m not staying that long.”
“I’ll have seconds, then,” Dylan said with a shrug. “Extra cheese.”
Susan bounced off, happy to oblige.
Exasperated, Jessica leaned back against the vinyl cushions and kicked off her heels. She closed her eyes and breathed her contentment.
Dylan glanced under the table, then raised one brow. “Is taking off our clothes part of the interview?”
She frowned at him. “My shoes are too tight.”
He grinned back. “Your skirt is tight, also,” he said with a note of hope in his voice.
“My skirt stays on,” she said coolly. “And I’m not interviewing you anymore.”
“Does that mean I’m hired?”
She shook her head.
“So who are you going to hire?” he asked. “The fat guy who ‘accidentally’ bumped your knee six times and dropped his pencil under the table four times?”
Jessica felt a fresh wave of anger just thinking about that lecher. She’d had to refrain from kicking him the last time he’d dropped the damn pencil. “Of course not. But since you were paying such close attention, you must have noticed that Mr. Thompson, my second applicant, was highly qualified. He was a carpenter for a housing developer in San Antonio and an electrician for a small construction company in Austin.”
“Oh, yes.” Dylan took a swig of coffee. “Mr. Thompson. The guy whose hands were shaking.”
“He was a little nervous, that’s all.”
“I’m sure that’s why he left here and went straight to that bar across the street.”
Jessica sighed with resignation and tucked her legs beneath her chair. “A pretty sorry lot.”
“And at the salary you’re offering, you won’t get better,” Dylan said pointedly.
“Except for you.”
He grinned at her. “Of course.”
And just who was he? she wondered. Other than the fact he was thirty-four and born in Maine, his application had been sketchy regarding his personal life. There’d been no mention of a wife—or wives, as the case might be—or children.
Damn that smile of his. She hated the way it made her control slip. He sipped his coffee, watching her with dark intense eyes that never seemed to miss a thing. She shifted slightly under his perusal.
“Which brings me back to my question,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “With your qualifications, why would you accept what I’m offering?”
Susan set the hamburger and fries in front of Dylan, fussed over him for a minute, then when Jessica scowled at her, reluctantly moved to take another order at the counter.
Dylan slid the plate closer to Jessica. The smell of the fries was sheer heaven. Just one, she told herself, reaching for the plate.
“The first reason is that it’s temporary work, nothing long-term,” he said. “I don’t like to be tied down.”
No big surprise there, Jessica thought. A man who traveled on a motorcycle with little more than a duffel bag was hardly the type to build picket fences. “And your second reason?” she asked.
“This youth center you want to build,” Dylan said, “are you doing it for money?”
“Of course not,” she answered impatiently.
“And the land, Stone Creek, you could sell it and make a few bucks?”
Even the thought of selling one acre of Stone Creek sent a wave of indignation through Jessica. “I told you I would never sell.”
“So everything doesn’t have to be about money, does it?” Dylan asked. “There are other reasons that motivate people, aren’t there?”
Dylan saw the suspicion in Jessica’s blue eyes. Not that he blamed her. He’d certainly be suspicious if he were in her place. He hadn’t even listed all his past experience, but since he wasn’t sure of the competition, he’d given her enough to assure him the job. He just had to convince her he was the right man.
The problem was he wasn’t so sure anymore that he was the right man. He hadn’t been prepared for his reaction to Jessica. Even as he watched her now, with her hair loose and the top of her blouse undone, he felt a wave of overwhelming lust for her. That was all it was, of course. Lust. But it was certainly stronger than anything he’d experienced before. And it certainly would complicate matters. As she nibbled delicately on a french fry, he couldn’t stop the sweat breaking out on his skin.
He’d have to control his more basic instincts, that was all. Jessica was off-limits. Way off-limits.
“Okay, Mr. Grant,” she said, finally breaking the long silence.
“Dylan.”
She nodded. “Okay, Dylan. So maybe there are other reasons that motivate people. Tell me what yours are. I think you owe me at least that much.”
He thought about that for a moment. “Let’s just say I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Another notch in the experience belt, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Jessica couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from curving upward. It was hard to believe, incredible even, that a man with Dylan’s qualifications would work for the pay she offered. “Christmas is just a few weeks away. Are you going to need time off to be with your family?”
He shook his head. “There’s no notch in my belt for family, Miss Stone. Christmas is just another day to me.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone feeling that way about Christmas. It was her favorite holiday. The most special day of the year, as far as she was concerned. She was torn between being happy he didn’t need time off and feeling sorry for him. Dylan, however, did not appear to be a man that wanted sympathy from anyone.
“All right, then.” She met his steady gaze. “You’re hired.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I need a room.”
She nearly choked. “What!”
“Your salary isn’t enough to live on. I need a place to stay.”
What was the saying? If something was too good to be true, then it probably wasn’t? “I can’t afford that. It would cost a fortune to rent you a room here in town.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I want to stay out at Makeshift, to cut down on travel time and the expense of gas. Plus, if there’s any problems, I’ll be right there.”
It didn’t matter that everything he said made sense. It wasn’t possible. “You can’t be serious. I can’t stay out there with you, alone.”
“Why not?”
Her cheeks flushed bright red. “Because...well, because I can’t.”
“I won’t attack you, Jessica, if that’s what you’re afraid of. All I’m interested in here is a job.”
She was glad to hear that, but nevertheless, her ego still winced at the outright rejection. “I’m most certainly not afraid. It’s just that, well, I like my privacy and...” She straightened the silverware on the table and fiddled with the napkin.
“And your brothers will kill you?”
She shook her head. “No. They’ll kill you most likely.”
“Let me worry about your brothers. I’m sure they’re reasonable men.”
“Reasonable?” Jessica gave a dry laugh. “Dylan, that word doesn’t exist when describing the Stone men.” She spread her hands wide and sighed. “But it certainly will be interesting to watch you try.”
“So I’m hired?”
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She was insane. Although, she’d be equally insane not to do everything necessary to employ this man. She smiled at him and held out her hand. “You’re hired.”
Dylan smiled back and took her hand. The connection was like grabbing a live wire. They stared at each other, each of them stunned at the awareness that radiated between them.
Dylan quickly let go, relieved that the waitress had chosen exactly that moment to refill his coffee cup and chatter about how much she liked motorcycles. He nodded politely, though he barely heard more than a few words, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
* * *
“You did what?”
Jessica stood in the mesquite-clogged street in front of Makeshift Saloon and silently tolerated Jared’s yelling. Arms folded, Jake stood beside his brother, his face set in hard lines beneath his black Stetson.
“I told you,” she explained patiently, combing her hair back from her face when a warm breeze caught the loose ends, “yesterday I hired a man named Dylan Grant to be my foreman, and part of his salary is a room here. I expect him any minute now, and I want you both to behave yourselves.”
“How could you do something so idiotic?” Jared continued. “You don’t even know this guy. How do you know he’s not a serial killer?”
“Because I know.” Jessica put her hands on her hips and looked at her brothers. They both had the same black hair and Stone-blue eyes as she did. Anyone else having a confrontation with two six-foot-four-inch angry men might be intimidated, but Jessica had learned at a very young age to stand her ground. “And Hannibal liked him, too.” She scratched the dog behind his ears.
Jake rolled his eyes, and Jared threw his hands up.
“Oh, I feel much better now,” Jared said, taking a step toward the dog. When Hannibal growled, Jared frowned and moved back.
Jessica smiled. “See. I told you he’s a good judge of character. I’m still trying to figure out what Annie sees in you, sweet-tempered man that you are. By the way, how are the wedding plans going? It’s only two weeks away.”
“Everything is going fine,” Jared replied. “And don’t try and change the subject.”
“We’ll talk about Jared’s wedding later,” Jake said flatly, tipping back his hat. “Right now you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Jessica sighed and faced her oldest brother. It had always been a little easier to get around Jared than Jake. Since their father had died, Jake had taken his position as head of the family very seriously. A little too seriously at the moment, she thought with annoyance.
Time to change tactics, she decided.
“Jared, Jake—” she moved between her brothers and looked up at them “—you know I love you both, and I wouldn’t do anything to upset you. Just meet Dylan, talk to him. I’m sure you’ll feel the same way I do about him.”
Well, maybe not quite the same way, Jessica amended silently. Her body was still humming from that simple handshake yesterday. She’d tried to tell herself she’d just been so relieved to find a foreman after all those terrible interviews that she’d overreacted to his touch.
But if nothing else, she was honest. And the truth was she was attracted to the man. In a big way.
It doesn’t matter. She had no intention of encouraging any attention from Dylan Grant. She’d made the mistake once of getting involved with someone she’d worked with, and the results had been less than wonderful.
Besides, Dylan had made it clear he wanted work, nothing else. Temporary work. She had the feeling “temporary” was the man’s middle name.
The ground started to shake and the air vibrate. Jake and Jared looked up sharply, their eyes narrowed as they turned in the direction of the sound. Hannibal’s ears lifted.
“He rides a motorcycle?” Jared said.
“Similar to the one you used to ride six or seven years ago,” Jessica reminded Jared.
She held her breath as Dylan roared up, leaving a billowing trail of dust in his wake. He parked the bike in front of the saloon and stepped off, pulling the helmet from his head.
The three men faced each other like gunfighters from the Old West. All they needed, Jessica decided, were gun belts slung low on their hips and spurs on their boots.
This is ridiculous, she thought, and turned toward Dylan with a smile, even though her insides were quaking. Hannibal barked and bounded over to Dylan with an enthusiastic wag of his tail.
Jessica threw her brothers an “I told you so” look. They frowned back.
Dylan knelt and greeted the dog, then straightened and moved toward Jessica. “Mornin’.” He nodded at the two other men.
“Dylan Grant, these are my brothers, Jake—” Dylan met and held Jake’s dark gaze as they shook hands “—and Jared.”
Jared all but scowled at Dylan as he took his hand. Jessica could have sworn there was amusement in Dylan’s eyes as the handshake progressed into a test of strength. She was ready to step between the two when Jared suddenly let go.
She realized she’d been holding her breath and slowly let it out.
That was when the barrage of questioning began. Jessica knew she couldn’t stop it, so she simply stood back and waited. She already knew most of Dylan’s background as far as construction went, but nothing of his personal life. When Jake moved into that territory, Jessica found herself listening closely.
“You have a wife or a family?” Jake asked.
Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “Does it matter?”
“If something happens to you it will,” Jake said evenly. “We’ll need to know who to notify.”
Jessica wanted to kick Jake. Although his question was certainly a logical one, there was an undertone of a threat in it, as well. And based on the dark expression on Dylan’s face, he hadn’t missed the warning.
“I’m not married,” Dylan said flatly. “Something happens to me—” he held Jake’s steady gaze “—you’ll have to deal with it.”
“Well, then,” Jake said with a nod, “I guess we’ll just have to watch real close and make sure nothing happens to you.”
The “watch real close” part rankled Jessica, but at least the tension eased somewhat. Jessica’s breathing had almost returned to normal by the time Jake shook Dylan’s hand again.
“My wife, Savannah, is having a dinner party for Jared and his fiancée, Annie, tomorrow night at the ranch,” Jake said to Dylan. “Sort of a prewedding celebration. Why don’t you come along with Jessica?”
Jessica had to close her mouth as she stared at Jake. She couldn’t have heard what she’d thought she just heard. Jake inviting Dylan to dinner? Not possible. Even Jared seemed to accept the idea without complaint, though he still watched Dylan warily. No doubt they wanted to interrogate the man further.
“Much obliged.” Dylan nodded at Jake. “I’ll be there.”
Jessica couldn’t find her voice to utter a word when Jake and Jared kissed her goodbye. Their boots crunched on the gravel as they walked to Jake’s pickup and got in. They drove off, leaving a cloud of dust billowing behind them.
She’d been surprised when they’d finally quit harassing her about moving out here, but this, this, was unbelievable. They’d not only invited Dylan for dinner, they were actually giving in and letting him stay in Makeshift. With her. Alone.
The realization suddenly made her palms sweat.
She turned to Dylan, equally amazed that he’d handled the cross-examination as well as he had, even when the questions had turned personal.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said.
“That they invited me for dinner?”
“No, of course not. About the grilling they just gave you.”
“They care about you, Jessica,” Dylan said quietly, squinting into the late-morning sun as he watched the pickup disappear. “That’s nothing to be sorry about.”
There was something in Dylan’s voice, a wistfulness or perhaps a regret, that brought an unexplained ache to Jessica’s chest.
“I know what it’s like to lose your parents,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at her with surprise. “Thank you, but my parents are alive and well somewhere in Europe right now, I imagine. Not together, of course,” he added. “Most likely with the current spouse or live-in friend.”
Confused, she stared at him. “But you said you had no family.”
“I said I had no wife. As far as my family goes, we rarely see each other. Like I told your brother, if there’s a problem here, you’ll have to handle it.”
Jessica had always been so close to her parents it was difficult to understand that kind of indifference. But Dylan’s personal life was none of her business, she told herself, and from the curt tone of his voice, she knew he wasn’t offering any more information.
Quiet seemed to surround them. The breeze picked up and gently swung the wooden sign over what used to be the doctor’s office. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked. She suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. She clasped them in front of her and turned awkwardly to Dylan. “So, uh, where do we start?”
Dylan stared at Jessica and tried not to notice how snug her jeans were or how the T-shirt she wore defined the roundness of her breasts. He could think of a few places he’d like to start with this woman, most of them involving a bed and fewer clothes. He sighed inwardly. That line of thinking was only going to lead to trouble, so he forced it from his mind.
“How about a tour?” he suggested. “I need to take a closer look at the insides of the buildings and see what kind of condition they’re in. After I look at your blueprints, I can make a materials list.”
“Well,” she said tentatively, glancing quickly away, then back again, “there is a slight problem there.”
“A slight problem where?” he asked, though something told Dylan he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Well, I don’t exactly have any blueprints.”
He was right. He didn’t like the answer. “You didn’t call in an architect on a project this size?”
“Oh, I called one, all right. I just couldn’t afford him. All I have are a few preliminary sketches and permits for the work Jake and Jared did. I thought maybe I could just sort of figure it out as I went along.”
Dylan stared at Jessica in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You thought you could just figure out how to rebuild this entire town—without blueprints?”
“Actually,” Jessica said, her expression full of guilt, “I was hoping you...well, whoever I hired, I mean, might be able to handle it.”
He struggled not to raise his voice. “Me? On the salary you’re paying me, I’m supposed to spend God knows how many hours drawing up plans, too?”
“I don’t expect anything, Dylan,” she said, holding his gaze with her own. “If you don’t want to do it, I’m sure I can manage to pull something together for you.”
“You don’t pull together blueprints, Jessica,” he said sharply. “You draw them. Slowly and carefully.”
This job of his was getting increasingly more complicated by the moment, Dylan thought with annoyance. Hell, before long, this woman would probably have him paying her for the privilege of working here. If he had an ounce of sense or a lick of pride, he’d get back on his bike and keep riding.
But this job had nothing to do with sense or pride, he reminded himself. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair and faced Jessica.
And the instant he looked at her, he knew he’d never ride on out. Her eyes, a soft deep blue, were wide as she stared back at him. A man could drown in those eyes. There was passion there. Determination. The combination of the two was deadly. He’d never met anyone like her before. Two days ago he’d have laughed at the idea that anyone like her even existed.
But here she was, standing in front of him, her chin tilted upward, her eyes bright. She was a dreamer. An idealist. She hadn’t learned yet that people couldn’t be trusted. That they were only out to get what they wanted for themselves.
She’d learn soon enough.
He stepped closer to her. “All right. I’ll do it. But with all this extra work and no pay, I’m going to need a little incentive.” He lowered his voice as he searched her face. “Something to make it worth my while.”
Her body stiffened at his suggestive tone, and when her gaze locked with his, anger darkened her eyes. “And what exactly would you consider worth your while, Mr. Grant?”
He leaned closer still, bringing his face within inches of hers. “You have to cook for me.”
Dylan struggled not to laugh when Jessica’s lips parted in surprise, and when he found himself staring at that enticing mouth longer than good sense dictated, he straightened and backed away.
“You want me to cook for you?”
He nodded. “You do know how to cook, don’t you?”
“Of course I know how to cook.” She frowned. “But there’s no usable kitchen in Makeshift. Unless I go to town or to one of my brothers’ places, it’s sandwiches and raw vegetables.”
“Sandwiches are fine for lunch, but I want a hot meal at night and a big breakfast every morning.” He took malicious delight in the gasp Jessica uttered. “And if I see so much as one raw vegetable, I’m out of here.”
She folded her arms and faced him. “And just how do you expect me to cook without a stove or oven?”
“Well—” Dylan scratched at his chin thoughtfully “—people ate hot food here before, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” she answered carefully.
“So I guess if you were going to figure out how to rebuild this town without blueprints, you can figure out how to cook without electricity.”
Cook without electricity? Jessica stared at him. She was still reeling from his first assault on her senses, when she’d thought he was about to proposition her. She’d been furious, of course, and ready to tell him where he could go. And yet, at the same time, she’d felt an excitement course through her. Then when he’d told her he wanted her to cook for him, he’d caught her completely off guard again. She’d always been so sure of herself. Of who she was and what she wanted. For the first time, she felt off-key and out of balance.
She didn’t like it one bit.
This project, like the man standing in front of her, was getting more complicated by the minute. But what choice did she have? She had no idea where to begin, but as he’d said, she’d figure it out.
She sighed heavily and shook her head. “All right, Dylan. But let’s hope it won’t be your words you eat, instead of my food. Either one is going to be hard to chew.”
* * *
“He’s staying, Lucas! He’s staying!”
Lucas smiled as Meggie floated upward toward the saloon ceiling and spun. He’d never tire of watching her. One hundred and twenty years hadn’t dimmed that pleasure.
“I will reserve my judgment on that just now,” Lucas said. “I most certainly didn’t like his provocative manner of speaking to her.”
“Oh, yes, he is a rogue, isn’t he?” She smiled brightly. “But I knew he was teasing her. And you did, too, or you would have stopped him.”
Lucas nodded. “I admit I admire his resourcefulness. But I’m not sure why Jessica would object to cooking for him.”
Meggie floated back down and faced Lucas. “I suppose you think a woman should be thrilled at the idea of slaving over a hot stove for a man all day?”
Lucas wrinkled his brow. “It’s a woman’s duty. Why should she object?”
Meggie put her hands on her hips and frowned. “You are an oaf, Lucas Kincaid. Things are not the same as they were for us. Men and women have both changed. Their thinking is quite different.”
He loved the way her nose wrinkled when she was irritated with him. “Perhaps what men do today might be different from our time, my dear, but what they are thinking is certainly not. And Mr. Grant’s thoughts regarding Jessica are precisely the same thoughts I had when I first met you.”
In spite of her annoyance at Lucas, Meggie couldn’t help but smile. “Every time Dylan stands close to Jessica, I feel something. Almost like a pulse of energy that moves from them into me. Did you feel it, too, Lucas?”
He nodded. “Yes. I feel it. I don’t understand it or what it means. But we will soon, my love. Very soon.”
Meggie leaned close to Lucas, wanting his nearness even though there could be no physical contact. “Put your arms around me, my darling. Let’s pretend, if only for a moment, that we are truly holding each other.”
Lucas held out his arms and Meggie moved into them, wishing desperately that Dylan Grant was the answer to their prayers.
“I love you, Lucas,” she said quietly.
“And I, you,” he answered.
They stood there quietly, pretending it was another time and place. “Lucas,” Meggie asked, “do you think Jessica will be angry when she finds out Dylan hasn’t been completely truthful with her?”
Lucas smiled. “Of course not. Why would she be angry? She’ll understand.”
“Do you really think so?”
Lucas smiled reassuringly. “Don’t let it bother your pretty little head. Men know about things like this. She’ll laugh about it.”
But Meggie wasn’t so sure, and as she closed her eyes, she prayed that Lucas was right.