the leasing company now and then, but I think she started her own business in order to keep as far away from him as possible.”
“No mother in the picture?”
“She died a long time ago. I imagine she left her daughter some kind of nest egg that allowed Mellie to start her business. The family used to be financially solvent, but Mellie’s dad has almost destroyed everything. Booze mostly, but gambling, too.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” After taking a bite of pie, Case moved on to another subject. “What do you know about Samson Oil and their connection to Nolan Dane? I hear he’s handling a lot of land sales for them.”
Nathan nodded. “I’ve heard it, too. Dane seems a decent sort. And his roots are here. So I assume he’s trustworthy. Still, Samson Oil is not a household name. No one seems to know much about them.”
“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Dane and the Samson Oil situation. Something about that whole thing seems a little off to me...”
* * *
Thursday morning Case found himself pacing the halls of his way-too-big-for-one-man house. At least half a dozen times he’d pulled out his phone to call Mellie Winslow and cancel her services. But he couldn’t think of a single explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a paranoid idiot, so he’d resisted the impulse to wave her off.
Relishing his privacy was one thing. But if he continued to keep women out of his house, he’d wind up a withered, curmudgeonly octogenarian with a fortune in the bank and a cold, lonely existence. Still...old habits were hard to break.
Mellie arrived five minutes before their arranged appointment time. He’d have to give her points right off the bat for promptness. When he opened the door at her knock, he blinked momentarily.
It could have been a reaction to the blinding midmorning sun. But more probably, it was the sight of a slender, smiling woman in knee-length navy shorts and a navy knit top piped with lime green. On her feet she wore navy Keds with emerald laces.
The name of her business was embroidered above one breast. A breast that he didn’t notice. Not at all.
He cleared his throat. “Come on in. I fixed us some iced tea.” Though it was November, the day was extremely hot and muggy.
“Thank you.” Mellie carried a large plastic tote loaded with various cleaning supplies.
“Leave that, why don’t you? We’ll sit down in the kitchen. I hope that’s not too informal.”
“Of course not.”
Mellie seemed at ease when she took a seat. Thankfully, she tucked those long, tanned legs out of sight beneath the table. The back of his neck started to sweat. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and get to work.
He sat down on the opposite side of the table and held out a piece of paper. “Here’s a rundown of my priorities. Feel free to add things as you see anything that needs attention.”
His newest employee glanced over the list. With her gaze cast downward, he could see how long her lashes were. “This looks good,” she said. “I’ll start out working full days for a couple of weeks until I get everything deep-cleaned and organized. After that we can talk about how often you’d like me to come.”
Case caught himself before his mind raced down a totally inappropriate path. Perhaps Nathan was right. Maybe Case had gone too long without sex. Because everything that came out of Mellie Winslow’s mouth sounded like an invitation.
Case cleared his throat. “I was at the diner and saw Nathan the other day. The sheriff had good things to say about you and your business...that you were completely trustworthy.”
“How did that come up in conversation? Were you investigating me?”
“No, no, no,” he said, backpedaling rapidly. “But you can’t fault me for asking what he knew about you.”
She stood up, her expression going from affronted to glacial in seconds. “In the folder I gave you several days ago there were half a dozen references. Any one of those people could have vouched for me. It wasn’t really a police matter, Mr. Baxter.”
“I’ve offended you,” he said, surprised at her reaction.
She tossed his list at him. “If you’re going to constantly keep tabs to make sure I haven’t cleaned out your safe or absconded with a priceless painting, then I don’t think this is going to work out. Good day, Mr. Baxter.”
Before he could react, she spun on her heel and headed for the front door, her ponytail bouncing with each angry step.
“Wait.” Belatedly, he sprang to his feet and strode after her, whacking his hip on the corner of the kitchen table. “Wait, Mellie.”
He caught up with her in the foyer as she picked up her supplies. “Don’t leave,” he said. “We agreed to a trial period.”
“Shortest one on record,” she snapped.
He really had no choice but to grab her arm in a gentle grip. “I’m sorry,” he said...as forcefully as he knew how. “If you leave, I’ll sue for breach of contract.” He said it with a smile to let her know he was joking. But Mellie Winslow didn’t look the least bit amused.
Wiggling free of his hold, she faced him, her expression turbulent. “I’m proud of my business. It’s been built on word of mouth and the quality of the employees I hire. Keep N Clean has never had a single complaint of anything going missing...or of anything being damaged, for that matter.”
Case rarely made a misstep, but he knew this was a bad one. “I am sincerely sorry. I shouldn’t have asked the sheriff about you.”
“Amanda Battle is a friend of mine. Do you understand that I’m embarrassed?”
He did. For the first time, he looked at his actions from Mellie’s perspective. To a Texan, honor was everything. She had a right to be upset.
“Let’s start over,” he said.
She stared at him. “Under one condition. No trial period. You sign the contract today.”
The negotiator in him was impressed. But more importantly, as a man, he found her bold confidence arousing. Everything about her was appealing. In other circumstances, he would have made an effort to get to know her more intimately.
Mellie Winslow, however, was here to put his house in order, not warm his bed. “I begin to see why your business is so successful. Very well, Ms. Winslow.” He held out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
Touching her was his next mistake. Awareness sizzled between them. Her skin was smooth and warm, her hand small and feminine in his grasp. He maintained the contact a few seconds longer than necessary.
When he released her and she stepped back, for the first time, he saw uncertainty in her eyes. “I probably overreacted,” she muttered. “I have a temper.”
A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “So the red hair is the real deal?”
“It is. I’m
