Convincing the Rancher. Claire McEwen

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Convincing the Rancher - Claire McEwen Mills & Boon Superromance

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ignored the fact that she’d be living in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere for the next month or so. Tess could safely say that denial was one of her strongest abilities.

      But now there was no denying two things: she was totally unprepared for the weather in Benson, and Slaid Jacobs was one of the most attractive men she’d ever laid eyes on. The navy blue of his parka somehow made his gray eyes even more vibrant, and his broad shoulders filled out the jacket well. He’d tucked his dark denim jeans into brown suede work boots, laced up casually over the cuffs. He was perfectly at home in the cold, in comparison to her shivering self.

      She wouldn’t be here shivering if he was chivalrous. If he hadn’t insisted that she stay in town. He might be good-looking, but right now she kind of hated him.

      If he noticed, he gave no sign. “Tess, an idea. We’ve got a shop here that sells all kinds of outdoor gear. Let’s leave the car and walk over there. We can have our meeting as we go and you can get set up with the right clothing. You can’t survive out here in that thin wool coat.”

      His voice was smooth and rich, like coffee. Like the espresso she couldn’t have this morning because she was stuck in Benson.

      “Is this your idea of a peace offering?”

      He gave that slow, widening smile she’d noticed right away when she’d first seen him at the bar in Phoenix. It had done things to her then and it was having the same effect now. “Maybe it is. I don’t know you too well, but you seem like someone who might like to shop. Plus, you look really cold.”

      Tess glanced down at her beloved gray Burberry, with the nipped-in waist and shiny black buttons, and sighed. The last thing she wanted was a shopping trip with Slaid, or a parka like his, but he was right about one thing—she was freezing. “Fine,” she agreed. “Lead the way.”

      He held out his hand, and to her horror she almost took it. Slaid jerked his hand back before she could and shoved it in his pocket, obviously embarrassed, too. This was ridiculous. How were they supposed to work together?

      She stumbled along next to him, her brain a chaotic mélange of feeling. Anger that he’d pressured her to stay in Benson, horror that her past had come back to haunt her and her natural appreciation of a gorgeous guy. Memories of what had happened between them that night in Phoenix scrambled her thoughts further. The images and sensations showed up like random jolts of electricity, leaving her nerve endings sizzling and frayed.

      If she could just turn off those memories and focus on work and only work, she might be able to think coherently.

      She tried to keep up with his long strides in her stiletto boots and keep an eye on the sidewalk, stepping over anything that looked like ice. She could endure a lot, but falling in front of Slaid might be her breaking point.

      She didn’t know what to do, so she did what she was best at. She went into business mode. “So thank you for taking his meeting with me...again. As I told you yesterday, I’m in town because I work for a public relations firm that has been hired by Renewable Reliance.”

      “Yes, the wind project,” he said, his voice as dry as the desert. “I remember.”

      She plowed on. “I’m in charge of community relations.”

      “Well, you’re off to a great start. Considering that you’ve already had relations with the town mayor.”

      Tess stopped abruptly as the initial hurt turned to fury. “Is this how you’re going to handle this? Did you want me to stay so you can be self-righteous and hold that night over my head? Because I seem to remember that I wasn’t alone in that hotel room. In fact, you invited me back to your room.”

      Slaid stared at the ground, and they walked a few steps in awkward silence. Then he broke it. “I was rude. It was a stupid thing to say. We agreed to keep things professional and I dropped the ball. It won’t happen again.”

      She was momentarily disarmed by his apology. “Well, it was a fumble, but maybe you can recover.”

      He looked at her in surprise. “You know football?”

      She needed a cordial relationship with him to make any progress with the community, which is how she justified her little white lie. “Sure. Some. I’m a San Franciscan. We love our Forty-Niners.”

      “So much that you ran ’em out of town.”

      Tess stared at him a moment, racking her brain for what she knew about the football team—something to explain his comment. A lightbulb lit in some dim corner of her mind. San Franciscans hadn’t been able to agree on replacing foggy and crumbling Candlestick Park, and a neighboring city had happily jumped in to build the football team a new stadium. She gave a little laugh of relief. “Oh, yes. They’re the Santa Clara Forty-Niners now. It doesn’t have quite the same ring.”

      “But they’re keeping their old name, right?”

      “Oh, right. Of course.” She was the one fumbling here. Hoping he’d attribute her red cheeks to the wind, she switched back to the topic she actually knew something about. “About the windmills— My job will be to interface with the community and make sure you, and the people of Benson, have up-to-date information about the project. I’ll be responsible for presenting the environmental impact reports and creating opportunities for public input.”

      “And if I tell you that the only input the people of Benson will give you is a resounding no?”

      “Then my job is to tell you that you’re putting the cart in front of the horse. Renewable Reliance has a right to perform this exploratory process. They’ve already been granted the necessary permits from the Bureau of Land Management. And there will be plenty of opportunities for you and the citizens here to weigh in.”

      “But personally, you think this project is bogus.”

      “There is no personally. I’m here to do my job—to present information about the project to the public. I don’t weigh in on the projects I represent.”

      “But, I take it, the information you present will be your client’s side of the story.”

      “Of course. But it will be a true story. Just the facts.”

      “Facts can be bent.”

      “By everyone involved,” she argued, “including you.” She wanted to kick herself as soon as she said it. What was it about Slaid that made her lose her cool? She should be buttering him up right now, making him and his town feel special, lucky to be chosen as the site of a wind farm. Instead she was trading insult for insult.

      They’d reached the door for Benson Wilderness Outfitters, and Slaid grasped the handle and pulled it open for her, but his expression was far from chivalrous. “I don’t bend facts,” he said.

      “Well, neither do I.” He waited and she waited, hands on her hips. Finally a slight smile of dawning understanding curved one corner of his full mouth. “You’re not going to let me open this door for you, are you?”

      “You go ahead,” she answered. “I can get my own doors.” She didn’t want his bogus chivalry, but if he waited any longer she’d have to give in. She was rapidly going numb, and she craved the warmth she knew would be inside the shop.

      “Stubborn

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