Page 1 of Too Hot To Handle

Tory Wells hung on to her battered luggage with both hands. She felt as though the earth had been ripped from beneath her feet It wasn’t the earth being ripped, however. It was the letter that she had brought with her from Ethan Reever’s cousin, a letter promising her employment on the Sundance Ranch.

„But I was told that – “ she began, her voice low, urgent „You were told wrong,” Ethan Reever interrupted ruthlessly, dropping the shredded, unread letter into an exquisitely woven Pima basket that held other paper debris. He gave the slender young blonde in front of him a hard glance. „There’s no swimming pool on the Sundance so there’s no need for a ‘swimming counselor.’”

His lips thinned in disgust over the last two words. „And unlike my dear cousin Payton, I have no use for bleached blondes who can’t do two licks of work without whining about their nails.“

„My hair isn’t bleached, my nails are short and the day I whine you can fire me,“ retorted Tory, setting her luggage down with a thump.

Reever laughed. The sound was as hard as the large hands that slapped the desk in an impatient movement as he came to his feet. „Honey, I haven’t hired you, and I’m not going to. I need you like a sidewinder needs ice skates.“

Tory stared in silence at the man looming behind a desk that was as scarred as her luggage. Reever was nothing like his cousin, Payton Sundance. Pay ton’s hair was straight and sandy, he was clean shaven, his eyes were a sparkling blue and his body was as thin as it was tall. Reever’s hair was thick, blue-black and shaggy. So was his mustache. His blunt, angular face showed a shadow of beard, even though it was barely eleven o’clock. His eyes were the color of winter rain and were emphasized by heavy black eyebrows. He had the long, powerful bone structure of a natural athlete and the muscular development to go with it He was at least six foot three – a dark, intimidating presence watching her with eyes that gave away nothing.

Reever’s intense masculinity would have made Tory nervous if she hadn’t been so desperate for the job. She was accustomed to being around men with flawless bodies, swimmers and divers whose lives were dedicated to physical perfection, yet never had she met a man whose very presence could send frissons of heat searching through her. Reever threatened her in ways that she couldn’t describe. But even more than he threatened her, he fascinated her. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be held in those powerful arms. Did that beautifully shaped mouth ever smile gently, and were his hands capable of tenderness as well as strength?

Tory shook herself mentally, wondering if she had lost her mind. Reever was very unlike his cousin. She could well believe Payton’s warning about Reever’s „devil temper”. Payton was charming, kind and known for his generosity throughout the Southern California amateur athletic community. Tory doubted that anyone would use the adjectives generous, charming or kind to describe Ethan Reever.

The thought didn’t make Tory back down. She had spent her life working with male coaches who could most politely be described as „difficult.“ Besides, she had to have the Sundance job whether Reever was devil incarnate or angel in disguise. At the moment she had exactly two dollars and sixty-three cents to her name. She couldn’t afford a bus trip back to town, much less a cab – not that either bus or cab was available, even if she had money.

The Sundance Ranch was in the wild country of northern Arizona, a place where the roads were empty and the land was full of sunlight and silence.

„Mr. Reever,“ Tory said carefully, trying to show neither her desperation nor her fear, much less the very feminine curiosity that he aroused in her. She had learned early in life than any sign of weakness would be used against her.

„Reever,“ he said, his voice harsh. „Just plain Reever. You’re not in the city anymore, Miss Victoria Wells.“

„No kidding?“ shot back Tory. Her glance went pointedly around the office, where a collection of spurs was tacked to the wall and a half-braided horsehair rope waited in one corner to be completed. „Call me Tory, Reever,“ she said, smiling. „Everybody does.“

His eyes narrowed. Tory decided that all the books were wrong. The devil’s eyes were gray, not black. She took a deep breath and tried again to get past Reever’s hard exterior. Somewhere inside that man was something more than harshness and the glacial cold of his eyes. She knew that with an instinct so deep that she didn’t question it.

„Mr. Sundance assured me that there would be work for me here,“ Tory said honestly. „I came a long way at my own expense on that assurance. If the Sundance Retreat isn’t open yet, there must be something else I could do on the ranch until the retreat opens.“

Reever stood silently for a moment, giving Tory the same kind of thorough, cataloging glance that she had given to him a moment earlier. Tory knew exactly what he would see. She had short blond hair streaked by the Southern California sun, green eyes that were too light to be called emerald and five feet seven inches of tan body conditioned by a lifetime of swimming and diving.

If Reever was hoping to make Tory uncomfortable with his stare, she had a surprise for him. She was used to being stared at while wearing a good deal less than beige cotton slacks and a T-shirt proclaiming „Be Kind to Endangered Species – Adopt a Mermaid.“ Competition swimsuits were designed to be a second skin, and they achieved that purpose with admirable thoroughness, especially when wet. As Tory stood on a diving platform high above a pool, poised for her second dive, the spectators knew just about everything there was to know about her physically.

Yet standing still for Reever’s slow scrutiny became more difficult for Tory with each passing second. When he looked at her, it was as though his hands were moving over her body while his fingertips learned every feminine curve and hollow. The thought both shocked and intrigued her, making her breath shorten and her eyes darken as the pupils expanded with sensual curiosity. Deep inside Tory a gentle heat began to uncurl, making her mouth soften in unconscious invitation. She was too inexperienced to realize what was happening to her, she only knew that the longer she watched Reever, the more she became curious about him as a man.

„Please,“ Tory said, her voice husky. „If you had read the letter before you tore it up, you’d know that I’m a very hard worker.“

Reever hadn’t finished his leisurely appraisal of Tory’s body. When he finally did, his mouth turned down and his voice shifted into a sardonic drawl that could have etched steel.

„No, thanks,“ he said. „I like my playmates small, stacked and sexy. You flunk on all three counts.“

For a moment Tory was too stunned to respond. Her breath came in with a rushing sound as her temper flared. „I wasn’t offering to – “ she began angrily.

„The hell you weren’t,“ interrupted Reever, his eyes as contemptuous as his tone. „You were begging for it“

Tory flushed, then went very pale. „Go to the devil, Ethan Reever,“ she said, trembling.

„Didn’t Payton tell you, honey? Iamthe devil.“

Tory looked at Reever and wished suddenly, violently, that she had spent her years learning karate rather than the gentle art of diving. Without a word she picked up her luggage, turned her back on the devil’s cruel smile and walked out of the room. Before she had gone three steps, she heard the desk chair creak as it once again took Reever’s formidable weight. The sound of the big leather ledger sliding across the desk was loud in the silence. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that she had already been wiped from Reever’s mind as completely as though she had never stood in front of him and pleaded for a job.

Without hesitating, Tory walked through the living room, opened the front door and pulled it shut behind her, using her foot. She would have slammed the door until the house shook but had no wish to call attention to herself again. Just the thought of facing Reever’s contempt brought a sweeping humiliation that was as great as her anger. She would crawl on her hands and knees all nineteen miles back to town before she suffered his contemptuous appraisal again.

Although the ranch house was thousands of feet above the desert floor, the June day was hot enough to bring a mist of perspiration to Tory’s face as she stood on the porch and looked at the long, dusty ranch road that eventually led to a narrow county road and from there to Massacre Creek, the only town within ninety miles of the Sundance Ranch.

Tory knew from experience that the most exciting thing about Massacre Creek was the name. The sign outside the town had proudly proclaimed Population 401, but unless they were counting the litter of fat puppies that she had seen chasing flies and each other in front of the Sunup Cafe, Tory couldn’t imagine where Massacre Creek’s citizens were. After the relentless concentration of people in coastal Southern California, northern Arizona’s empty reaches seemed alien and…oddly inviting.

At the moment, though, Tory could have done with a little less scenery and a lot more cheap public transportation. Abruptly she shifted her duffel bag over one shoulder, took a better grasp of the cracked, abrasive handle of her suitcase and stepped off the porch onto the dusty gravel drive. If she wanted to be in town before dark, there was no time to waste on wishful thinking.