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Morgan pushed an unsteady hand through her hair. She was at the freezers, about to take out more steak, when a new voice—one ringing with authority—demanded, ‘What’s going on here?’
Morgan spun around as the noise in the cookhouse suddenly stilled. Tilting her head, she found herself looking into Jason Delaney’s rugged, hard-boned face. Stressed though she was, Morgan found herself once again noticing shoulders that were impossibly wide and hips sexily narrow—a body that was lean and muscled.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘Came to see how you were getting on,’ he said. ‘Just as well I did, by the looks of it.’
‘You should have seen what this dame tried to pass off as a meal, Boss,’ Hank complained. ‘Steak so small you could hardly see it.’ He held up an enormous hand to demonstrate. ‘Bits of potato with some kind of stuff stuck to them.’ He pointed to the food which one of the cowboys had pushed away in disgust. ‘Just take a look at this, Jason. We’re men, Boss, not a bunch of halfweaned toddlers.’
‘I liked it,’ Charlie said.
‘Charlie’s appointed himself the lady’s shining knight,’ Hank said in disgust. ‘Won’t do, Boss. We’ve all had a hard day; we need to eat. Pretty lady here may make a man feel good at night, but she sure doesn’t know what it takes to feed one.’
‘Watch what you say, cowboy.’ Morgan spoke with a firmness that not a few men would have had rueful cause to recognize, the same firmness with which she addressed men who tried to take liberties with her. Most of the time it was successful in keeping unwanted advances at bay.
Hank, however, was unabashed. ‘Oh, yeah?’ came the insolent drawl.
‘You have a foul mouth, cowboy. I won’t stand for it.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Hank said again.
‘That’s enough,’ Jason warned levelly.
‘But—’ Morgan said hotly, only to stop as a warning hand closed over her arm.
She was unprepared for the tingling that shot instantly from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. But the touch did not last for seconds later Jason was turning back to the men.
‘This is Morgan,’ he said calmly. ‘She’s substituting for Brent. She means well but she’s not familiar with our ways yet. Say, why don’t you guys kick a ball around outside? We’ll have some more dinner ready for you in a jiffy.’
To Morgan’s surprise, the cowboys did as he suggested. Minutes later she could hear a ball-game starting near the cookhouse.
Jason’s defence of her had been so unexpected that she said gratefully, ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue.’
The rancher placed a pile of frozen steak to thaw in a huge microwave, before turning to her. Aloofly he said, ‘I didn’t do it for you.’
‘I thought...’ She broke off, dismayed at the hardness she saw in the ruggedly chiselled face. Not for the first time she wondered why Jason had taken such a dislike to her.
‘Didn’t fancy a mutiny on my hands,’ he said drily.
‘A mutiny?’
‘You heard what Hank said—they’re men and they’re hungry.’
‘I didn’t cook enough and I’m sorry about that. But that Hank, he’s crude and a big-mouth,’ Morgan said hotly.
‘He’s also,’ the rancher said, ‘one of the finest cowboys on this ranch.’
‘It doesn’t bother you—the way he talks?’
‘As I said, Hank is an excellent cowboy.’ Jason’s tone was abrupt. ‘An expert at roping a steer or calming an excited horse.’
‘That doesn’t excuse his manners.’
‘I don’t hire men for their fine manners, Miss Muir.’
Her head jerked up. Morgan had never met a man like Jason Delaney—so sexy that her legs felt a little weak when she looked at him, and at the same time so cold and arrogant and contemptuous.
An unaccustomed wildness drove her to speak without thinking. ‘Maybe that’s because you don’t have any manners yourself, Mr Delaney. You’ve been rude from the moment you set eyes on me.’
A hand shot out, grabbing Morgan’s wrist and closing around it with fingers like iron. Dark eyes spoke volumes of contempt. ‘If telling you that I disapprove of your presence at my ranch makes me rude then perhaps that’s what I am. I didn’t invite you here, Morgan. You’re quite free to leave any time you like.’
Morgan tried to suppress the flames which were once more searing her arm, the sudden thudding of her heart and the treacherous, utterly unwelcome stirrings deep in her loins. ‘You’re forgetting the contract.’
Sparks flashed in Jason’s eyes. ‘Notwithstanding the contract.’
‘I know you want to see me go,’ she taunted.
He chose not to answer the taunt directly. ‘You shouldn’t have come in the first place—but you know that.’
‘Brent wouldn’t agree with you.’
‘After the disastrous meal you produced?’
‘Was it really so bad?’ She tried to hide her distress.
Jason didn’t answer her immediately. Tensely Morgan watched him at the microwave, taking out one lot of steak and putting in another.
When he looked back at Morgan his lips were tight. ‘You saw the reaction of the men,’ he said brusquely. ‘Hank was right about one thing—the cowboys have been out on the range since dawn, sweating it out in the heat and the dust. Riding hard, working hard physically. They come back here, expecting a decent meal, and look what they got instead. They had every reason to be angry.’
‘It was a mistake.’ Her tone was low. ‘I realize now that I didn’t cook enough, but I did do my best.’
‘You should have known, Morgan.’
‘If Brent had stayed to explain...to show me around...’ For some reason it was very important that this very dynamic man should think well of her.
‘Any ranch cook worth his or her salt should know how to prepare a meal for a bunch of hungry men.’ His tone was a shade dry. ‘I wish I knew what you were thinking of when you applied for the job, Morgan.’
If only he were not so unyielding. Morgan swallowed hard. ‘I told you, it’s important to me...’
Jason put the thawed steak on the cookhouse grill, then opened a few huge cans of chili. Nobody would go hungry that night, after all.
He turned his head to look at her. A little roughly he said, ‘It won’t work out, you know.’
‘You’re wrong, it will!’
‘I don’t believe it, Morgan. If you’re honest, neither do you.’
‘But I do! And I mean to stay.’
‘I think you should leave tomorrow.’
‘Are you firing me?’ Her voice shook.
Jason was quiet for a few seconds, and Morgan saw a little muscle move in his hard jaw. ‘I don’t have grounds to fire you,’ he said at last, ‘but I’m asking you to go.’
Morgan looked at him unhappily. ‘I made a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all it was. People have to learn.’
‘There will be other mistakes.’
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘I don’t see any point in waiting, Morgan.’
Suddenly Morgan was very angry. If she didn’t fight Jason he would destroy her dream.
‘I won’t let you do this to me!’ Her voice throbbed with passion. ‘I deserve a chance.’
‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re riot wanted at this ranch?’
The words were like a hard blow in the stomach, but Morgan managed to hide her shock. Her chin lifted. ‘Not a thing,’ she lied.
She braced herself for Jason’s next verbal assault but, oddly, he was silent. For a few seconds the only sounds in the cookhouse came from the sizzling of the meat and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall.
And then Jason’s expression changed. Morgan saw his eyes going over her, and she drew in her breath. At twenty-two she was used to men. She was often photographed with male models, sometimes just posing with them, often with an arm slung around her shoulders and now and then a hint at something more amorous. Many a man had wanted to make love to her, inside as well as outside the confines of a studio, but she had never been interested. She had learned how to decline, politely but firmly, and still remain friends.
For some reason her reaction to this man was different. Morgan had never felt so disturbed and uncertain. Jason Delaney was undressing her with his eyes and she felt stripped and naked, acutely aware of the sparks which seemed to fill the air between them and conscious of his overwhelming maleness and of her own femininity.
‘It really means nothing to you that you’re not wanted?’ he asked softly.
‘I can only tell you that I intend to do my best.’ Her voice was not quite steady.
In the dark eyes there was a flash of steel and once more that tic in his jaw. ‘It won’t be easy,’ he warned.
‘Maybe not.’ The look she shot him was deliberately provocative. ‘But I asked you earlier not to frighten me. Don’t you understand that your scare tactics have no effect on me?’
After a long moment Jason smiled down at her. ‘I’m beginning to understand,’ he said.
It was a smile which made the anger leave Morgan. She looked at his dark eyes, his hard cheekbones and his sensuous lips—wondering inconsequentially how they would feel against hers—and knew that she had never met anyone as attractive as Jason. Her heart was beating so hard now that she made herself take a quick step away from him lest he heard it.
‘Then you will let me have my chance?’
‘I’ll be watching you every moment.’ Behind the smile lay a threat.
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said again.
‘Let’s both hope it will be good enough.’
The steak was sizzling on the grill and the chili simmering in a huge pot when the cowboys filtered back into the cookhouse. They sat down at the long table and proceeded to eat, amazing Morgan with the extent of their appetites and the size of the portions they piled on their plates. She had not known that men could eat so much.
‘They’re cowboys, not male models watching their figures.’ Laughter glinted in Jason’s eyes, as if he had guessed Morgan’s thoughts.
She was awed. ‘I had no idea.’
The glint intensified. ‘You should know, Morgan, that Brent usually eats in the cookhouse with the men.’
A little taken aback at the thought of sitting down at the long table and partaking of the gargantuan meal, Morgan hastily shook her head. ‘Tomorrow perhaps. I’m not hungry now.’
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was going to tell you to eat with me.’
Morgan’s head jerked. ‘With you, Mr Delaney?’
His eyes sparkled at her expression. ‘Since it seems we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, don’t you think you should start calling me Jason?’
Jason... It was a nice name. Strong. For some reason Morgan looked forward to saying it when she was alone—when she could enjoy the sound of it on her tongue.
‘Well, Morgan?’ he asked.
‘You don’t eat with the cowboys?’ The invitation—if it could be called that—had caught her completely off guard, and she had to say something.
‘Brent usually cooks for me at the house.’
‘In that case, I will too.’
‘Brent cooked enough for a week before he left.’ On a slightly softer note Jason added, ‘You’ve been driving all day. You’re probably exhausted.’
Jason Delaney showing a little human sympathy and friendliness? Miracles would never cease!
‘Not too tired to do my job,’ Morgan said spiritedly. ‘And in case you’re trying to trick me, Jason, forget it—I’m not about to fail another test.’
The tall rancher grinned, a daredevil grin that did alarming things to Morgan’s senses. ‘Neither a trick nor a test. I have enough for two so you might as well share it.’
With difficulty Morgan resisted the temptation to accept. ‘I told you,’ she managed, ‘I’m not hungry.’
Jason laughed, the sound low and dangerous. ‘As you like.’ He made no further effort to persuade her.
When Morgan emerged from the cookhouse some time later there was no sign of Jason. Although it was still hot outside, the western sky was now tinged with pink and long shadows lay over the brushlands. On the hardbaked ground beyond the bunkhouse another ball-game was in progress. Morgan walked in the opposite direction: she had no desire for another unpleasant run-in with Hank.
She was frowning as she looked at the shadows all around her. For the first time since she had arrived at Six-Gate Corral she was wondering where she would spend the night. If her employer had been anyone but Jason Delaney, Morgan would have had no hesitation in asking him what to do, but Jason unnerved her to such an extent that she was reluctant to ask him the question.
Still, she had to sleep somewhere. The ranch-house was obviously off limits—she could not sleep in the same house as Jason—and if there was another suitable building she couldn’t see it. Her car—of course! The thought came to her as she remembered that her suitcase was still in the boot.
But after just a few minutes in the car Morgan knew that she couldn’t spend the night there. After standing in the sun for hours, the car was a hell-hole, hot as a furnace and airless—impossible to breathe in, let alone sleep.
Which left only one place. Morgan recoiled at the very thought of the bunkhouse. How on earth could she bear to sleep there? Sharing quarters with the ranchhands—putting up with the ribaldries of a man like Hank. No, the bunkhouse was definitely out of the question!
There was nothing for it, after all, but to swallow her pride and speak to Jason. Somewhere there had to be an unused building, and he would have to let her use it.
But when Morgan knocked on the door of the ranch-house there was no answer. She walked around to the back, and there was no answer there either. There were no barking dogs and no sign of Jason’s Jeep.
