work done even with Brady in the room, underfoot, in the baby carrier slung over her back.
Actually that really was the way to go. Rather than tiptoe around Brady, the best thing to do would be to demonstrate that—just like every other mother on the planet—she could get her work done with her baby, not in spite of her baby.
And forget all about the fact that he was good-looking.
CHAPTER TWO
THOUGH Sophie didn’t know what time ranchers woke for morning chores—there had been no reason to tell her because breakfast wasn’t her responsibility, only supper was— she set her alarm for four-thirty and bounced out of bed when it rang.
Her plan was to make Jeb the breakfast of his dreams and serve it to him with Brady sitting in the high chair only a few feet away. The baby might goo and coo, but who could object to happy baby sounds? No one. Her boss would have good food and good company and he’d see there were more reasons to like having Brady around than reasons to kick them off the ranch.
Piece of cake.
After dressing herself in a T-shirt and blue jeans, she raced to the kitchen taking the baby monitor with her so that she’d hear Brady wake. Then she quickly brewed a pot of coffee, and ran to the refrigerator for fruit. A Tex-Mex omelet would be the main course, but she intended to do this up right and prepare the kind of hearty meal a rancher needed. Fruit cup first. A little oatmeal. Then the omelet, bacon and toast.
Running around the huge kitchen with solid oak cabinets and pale granite countertops surrounding the stainless steel appliances, she sliced fruit until five o’clock. Still scurrying, she fried bacon. At five-thirty, she put toast into the stainless steel toaster and by the time six o’clock rolled around she was becoming nervous.
The coffee was stale, the toast cold and the fruit soft. She thought ranchers got up at the crack of dawn? Where the heck was Jeb?
Expecting him to stroll through the door any second, she located everything needed to cook the omelet, which she couldn’t actually prepare until he was ready to eat. When all the ingredients sat on the counter by the stainless steel stove, she stopped moving.
Where was he?
Six turned into six-thirty. The sound of Brady waking crackled through the monitor, and she went to the bedroom and quickly got him dressed. Then she came back to the kitchen and slid him into his high chair that she’d already placed at the table. At seven-fifteen, Jeb finally strolled into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.
Leaning against the stove, arms crossed on her chest, she narrowed her eyes at him. His dark hair and brooding gray-green eyes could stop the heart of any normal woman, and Sophie had to admit hers stuttered a bit just at the sight of him. But she reminded herself that her need to keep this job trumped any romantic notions. She needed employment, not to be a lovesick puppy over a self-absorbed man.
Jeb almost asked Sophie why she was standing in his kitchen. He liked being alone when he first got up. That’s why breakfast wasn’t on her list of duties.
Instead he reminded himself he had to be nice so she’d not only stay and clean the house for the clients arriving in three weeks, but also to mend his reputation. When she left, he’d give her the thousand dollars she’d requested so that her only complaint could be that her baby hadn’t fit into ranch life. And if she just happened to stop in town on her way back to California, and mention that Jeb had given her a nice bonus, so much the better.
Walking to the counter with the coffeemaker, he said, “Good morning.”
“I’m not sure I’d drink that. I made it at four-thirty.”
He turned and gaped at her. “Why?”
“Because I thought all ranchers got up early and I was trying to please you.”
This time his eyes narrowed. “Trying to please me?”
“Because I’m sorry.”
“What the hell do you have to be sorry for? You said the agency told you it was okay to bring your son.”
“I should have confirmed that with you.”
At the repentant expression on her face, Jeb turned away from her. It wasn’t her fault that the agency had got his instructions wrong. Yet, the woman he would fire as soon as his prospective clients had seen the house, had apologized and made him breakfast.
A wave of guilt rode through him like a wild stallion. He glanced over, ready to thank her for her trouble but also to tell her that her work was all for nothing because he wasn’t a breakfast person. But when he looked at her, the words froze in his mouth. Her dark brown eyes snagged his gaze and he totally forgot the speech he had planned.
“I haven’t yet made the omelet and I can make fresh toast,” she said, her eyes brightening with hope and her lips teasing upward into a smile. “So, if you’re hungry, I can have a hot breakfast for you in no time.”
He swallowed. Good grief, she was pretty. But more than that, she was nice. Nice enough that he forgot all about counteracting Maria’s claims that he was a grouchy boss. Staring into her dark brown orbs, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He’d feel like a heel all day if he didn’t eat the breakfast she’d planned.
“Sure. I’d love an omelet.”
“Great! You sit. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
She made the coffee first, and without another word to him, busied herself breaking eggs into a bowl and adding chopped vegetables from a plate beside the stove.
Taking a seat at the round oak table, Jeb finally noticed the high chair…and her baby. The little boy with hair pointing to all four corners of the world sat no more than three feet away from him.
The kid grinned toothlessly at him. Jeb sucked in another breath, debating how to remind Sophie that she was supposed to keep her baby out of his way, but within what seemed like seconds she appeared at the table, delicious smelling omelet on one of his everyday dishes.
“I’m really sorry about all this.”
The room suddenly felt small and cramped. To his right was a baby. A perfect, healthy, happy child. To his left that little boy’s mom. A perfect, healthy, sexy woman.
Lord, he should have kept Maria. She might have been attracted to him, but he hadn’t been attracted to her and that situation he could have controlled.
Prepared to eat his omelet in record time and get the hell out of here, he picked up his fork. Much to his horror, Sophie took a seat, putting herself between him and her baby. She lifted a tiny spoon from a small plate of mushy food and directed it to her baby’s mouth.
“I wish I had known you didn’t want a woman with a child. I wouldn’t even have interviewed.”
The kid smacked his lips at the taste of the putrid looking yellowish mush. Jeb forced breath into his lung. “It’s not your fault.”
The baby clapped his hands together with glee as Sophie got another spoon of the mush and said, “I feel responsible.”
Jeb’s muscles began to quiver from
