Page 67 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

“Don’t look at me like I was left by myself on the street,” he said with a grin. “I’m not one of your charity projects, although that might be interesting.”

She smiled in return. “There is no way I could see you as a charity project at any point in time. I suspect your mother showered you with love, and you had friends galore.”

“I always thought so,” he answered easily. “Let’s move and let Etta and Wendell clean up and go home.”

“Sure. I want to step into the kitchen and tell Etta how wonderful dinner was. I can’t imagine having someone like that cook for you all the time.”

“It is another draw the ranch holds, although if I had to live in Dallas year round, I’d try to get her to move with me. Wendell, too, of course.”

Blake waited while she went to the kitchen to tell Etta and Wendell again how wonderful dinner had been. She returned to find him leaning one shoulder against a door jamb and looking at her legs. His gaze flew up to meet hers, and there was no mistaking the blatant sexual speculation in his expression.

Trying to ignore the unguarded moment, she crossed the room to join him, and they walked into the big living area overlooking the patio and pool.

“Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll show you the new wing. We can take a quick look tonight and go over the rooms in detail tomorrow—or we can skip anything related to work tonight and let you relax.”

“I can relax while I work. If you care to, you can show me around tonight. I don’t mind at all.”

“Come on and we’ll look,” he said and they headed for the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll give you blueprints and pictures, so you’ll know what I want. The workmen aren’t completely finished with construction, but they’re far enough along that they’ll finish this week. By the time you’re ready for the actual work, they’ll be gone.

“I told you about the additions earlier. Also, I had an elevator put in because my grandmother visits, and she is getting less enthusiastic about stairs. Mom has her own one-story house on the property, but she rarely spends time there. She’s in Patagonia, sightseeing with friends now, or I would have had her join us for dinner. Here we are—we’ll walk through, and then if you have questions, fire away.”

As they strolled down a wide hall, she was more aware of the tall man beside her than of her surroundings. Their footsteps in the empty, unfinished wing created a hollow sound. When they entered the first suite, she saw that the rooms would be light because of the abundant windows.

She could smell sawdust and new lumber. She was equally aware of the faint scent of Blake’s aftershave, the scrape of his boot heels on the new hardwood floors, of his nearness when he opened doors for her and stepped back to hold them.

Thankful she wouldn’t be working with him on a daily basis, she couldn’t shake the acute awareness of him. As they stood in the large living area of the suite, he turned to her. “Downstairs in the older part of the house I showed you some of the rooms. They all have formal French-style furniture, European antiques, plus one suite holds two-hundred-year-old furniture I bought at an estate sale in New Orleans.”

“The rosewood furniture that’s ornate and elegant. It’s beautiful, Blake,” she said.

“Thanks. I think so. I did that mostly for my mom because she loves that kind of furniture, and she was influential in the selection of the earlier furnishings. Up here, I’d like a change in decor. I’d like these suites to be contemporary with sleek lines, open spaces. That’s more my style.”

“That’s popular now, and there are some beautiful furniture designs available,” she said, walking through the empty rooms while he followed. “You’ll have plenty to choose from.”

“Whoa,” he said. “Sierra, I’m turning this project over to you. I want you to make the decisions about the decor—that’s your field, and I trust you totally. From here on, you take charge. Do your stuff, get it lined up and then show me. I do not want to be too involved.”

“Suppose you don’t like it?” she asked. “People usually want to see some of the early planning. You had people who checked on what I was doing at your hotel.”

“That’s because you’d never worked for us before. Now the early stages will be your deal. I’ve told you contemporary, and we’ll set an upper limit for the cost. I don’t want to be consulted until you’ve made some selections and have sketches showing how it’ll look.”

“That’s flattering, and you’re the boss,” she said. “At least you know what you want.”

“Damn straight,” he said quietly, his voice acquiring that husky note that indicated furniture was no longer on his mind. “I know exactly what I want,” he said.

“All right, Blake. I’ll see if I can please you,” she flung back at him. Her pulse raced as she turned to walk away. When she did, her back tingled, and she felt his gaze on her. Telling herself that it was probably her imagination, she had no intention of turning to see if he was studying her.

The suites in the new wing were roomy, each unique, one with arched, wide windows giving a panoramic view of his lighted pool.

As she turned, she once again caught Blake gazing at her with a lustful look. She met his gaze and the moment intensified, her surroundings disappearing, leaving only the tall, handsome man facing her.

Her heart pounded as she left the room. “I’ll move on,” she said over her shoulder without glancing back.

They had only started looking and had the rest of the wing to finish. She drew a deep breath, determined to keep her mind on business. Not so easy when she was beside him or when she caught him looking at her with unmistakable desire.

Again, she was grateful that he didn’t live on the ranch full-time.

They looked at suites with large rooms, lots of glass and open spaces, big walk-in closets and bathrooms large enough to hold several pieces of furniture besides the usual bathroom equipment. She could envision some beautiful suites.

“You’ll have a hotel when you finish,” she said, amused. “This would even be big for my family.”