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 sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so touchy.”
They stood there staring at each other, the air rife with things best left unspoken. “I should go,” he said. “And let you get started.”
She nodded. “If I have any questions, is it okay to text you?”
“Of course.”
Her green eyes with a hint of gray warmed slightly. “I’ll try not to bother you.”
Too late for that. He picked up his keys from the table beside the front door. “See you later, Mellie Winslow. Good luck with my house.”
Mellie watched him go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was much easier to familiarize herself with a new house if the owner was not underfoot. Still, she wouldn’t have minded if her new boss had lingered. She was curious about Case Baxter. Even though he was an arrogant, know-it-all male.
He was an intriguing combination of down-to-earth cowboy and high-powered businessman. It was no secret he was worth millions.
From what she’d heard around town, in addition to running his massive and wildly successful cattle operation, Case liked investing, particularly in small businesses. He believed in supporting the local economy. After the tornado—when the banks were stretched thin giving out loans—Case had floated some cash around the community, as well.
People in Royal liked and respected Case Baxter. Which explained his recent election as president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. The newspaper had run a bio along with the article announcing the results. Mellie knew that Case was thirty-six, which made him seven years her senior.
The age gap wasn’t significant,
