had ridiculously broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a deep tan that could only come from spending endless hours in the sun. No lack of vitamin D there. With his wrinkled T-shirt and khaki shorts, bare feet, windblown dark hair and laughing brown eyes, he seemed the antithesis of any man she’d be interested in.
And yet he’d survived a weekend with her mother. If there was anything Victoria admired, it was resiliency.
This guy was the walking, breathing picture of rugged.
“Hi, Ruthanne,” Shelby said from beside Victoria. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“You, too. And call me Ruthie. Everybody does.” Her gaze flicked to Victoria. “Except Vicky, of course.”
Victoria clenched her jaw. Her name was not Vicky. She, in fact, hated to be called that—as Ruthanne well knew.
Before she could remind her friend of that detail, Shelby asked a question about her supplies for the weekend, and all the other women followed Mrs. K on her tour of the kitchen and pantry.
“The pantry requires a tour?” Victoria asked, though only Jared was around to hear her.
“They used to have a footman haul stuff the full ten feet from the pantry to the counter, but he wasn’t fast enough, so he was let go.”
Victoria resisted the urge to smile. The house was certainly like something out of the English countryside, and the perfect setting for formal servants. But clearly, Jared the Rugged wasn’t a history major.
“Footmen don’t work in the kitchen,” she said.
“You’d know.”
“How? I live in an apartment in Manhattan. I don’t have a footman.”
“A maid?”
“I use a cleaning service.”
“Every day?”
“Every week.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a particular reason you’re interested in my domestic situation?”
That crafty grin appeared. “Long as we’re on the subject … do you have a live-in boyfriend?”
“No,” Victoria answered, before she thought to tell him her relationships were none of his business.
“Sleepover boyfriend?”
“I don’t see how this—”
“Pretty cranky response, so I’d say no. I bet you kick them out fifteen minutes after sex.”
“I do not.”
“After a one-for-the-road drink?”
“No.”
She gave her lover a bottle of water before he left. And they all left perfectly satisfied. What was he implying? That she was lousy in bed? That she was cold and methodical like her mother? Not that she knew about her mom in bed, anyway.
In fact, the whole idea of her in the throes of passion seemed wrong.
Maybe Victoria had been fertilized in a petri dish. And why, before now, hadn’t she ever thought to ask that question? It made perfect sense. Given her grandfather’s proclivity toward science and brilliant surgical techniques, why hadn’t she wondered—
Halting her runaway thoughts, it occurred that in less than a minute Jared had more information about her personal life than her assistant had in five years.
Victoria glared at him. “So I guess those muscles in your biceps don’t cloud your brain power, do they?”
His eyes softened to a shade of gold. He lifted his arm and flexed the muscle. “You noticed, huh?”
He had to be kidding with this come-on. “Look here, buddy,” she said, leaning forward, only to continue in an urgent whisper, “I don’t have time for your games. I’m not here to flirt or banter or have sex—which I’m great at, by the way. I’m here to get a promotion. Richard Rutherford’s account is going to secure my future. I don’t know who you think you’re playing—maybe the mealy daughter of the legendary Joanne Holmes—but I’m not her. I’ve got my own success and agenda, and that’s going to take me to the top.”
“Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?”
“I …” She stopped, humiliated to realize a heated flush was crawling up her neck. There was no way she was turned on. She was … surprised.
But nobody caught her off guard.
“You need to take a big step backward, cowboy,” she said, keeping her voice low and firm.
“Me? You’re the one who moved closer. You step back.”
“I will not.”
“So what do you suggest we do, since we’re already this close?”
“We’re not going to do anything.”
“No ideas? Fine.” He slid the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “I have a few.”
“Everybody getting settled in?”
At the sound of Richard Rutherford’s voice, Victoria leaped away from Jared.
Her heart pounded against her chest. What was she doing? How could she have forgotten even for a minute her reason for coming to the house party?
She approached Richard as he stood by the kitchen counter. Her professional smile was now in place and all distracting thoughts about Jared McKenna set aside. “Richard, it’s so good to see you. What a lovely spot for a weekend party.”
“Thank you, Victoria.” Wearing a browny-beige-and-yellow argyle sweater and khaki pants, he looked like the picture of Casual Rich Man on Weekend Golf Outing. “We’re pleased to have you as our guest.”
His formal speech struck her oddly. It was classic Richard, but it was wrong. That damn Jared. His easy, casual manner had spoiled normalcy.
“I know we’re all going to have a great time,” she said, “but I was hoping we could find a few minutes to talk about the new campaign.”
Richard smiled. “I’m sure we will. Business is pleasure, after all.”
“Exactly.” That was normal. How could she have gotten distracted by some barefoot cowboy wannabe? Correction, adventure tour guide. What kind of job was that, anyway?
For romantic liaisons, she had more sophisticated men in mind. For professional pursuits, she had a plan, and she was making it work.
It had to work.
The intercom buzzed again. “That’s probably our other guests, Mrs. Keegan,” Richard announced, as the housekeeper bustled back into the kitchen. “When they get to the house, bring them into the front parlor. We’ll have tea there and let everyone
