Judy Duarte - Romancing the Cowboy

“Actually,” he said, “I’m the executor of Granny’s estate and I always go over the books when I’m in town.”

“She didn’t say anything to me about that.”

“It probably slipped her mind.”

That was certainly possible, Sabrina supposed. “Then maybe it’s a good idea if we talk to her about it at breakfast. I’d feel much better if she gave me her okay.”

Instead of responding to her comment, he studied her. His hazel eyes, were compelling when they weren’t narrowed or fired-up in anger. Mesmerizing, actually, so she broke eye contact.

About the time she assumed he wasn’t going to respond at all, he said, “Your hair looks better down. Like you wore it last night.”

The compliment, as well as the masculine appreciation in his tone, knocked her off balance, and she lifted her hand to feel along the side of her hair. Making sure the strands were in place, she supposed.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry. I’ll put everything back where I found it.”

“That’s all right.” Sabrina reached for a file, intending to gather them all together and make sure they ended up in the right place. “I’ll do it.”

Jared’s hand clamped on to her wrist, and a jolt of heat shot straight through her chest, nearly taking her breath away. Time stood still, as sexual awareness hovered over her, unbalancing her.

She yanked free of his grip, a knee-jerk response that was more from the shocking zing of his touch than from being restrained.

Her parents had allowed themselves to be ruled by hormones instead of good sense. And look where that had gotten them.

Sabrina was determined not to make the same mistake, especially when she could clearly see that Jared Clayton wasn’t the man for her.

“I’m not finished looking at those.” As he withdrew his hand, his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I have no problem allowing you to have the run of the office. But only if Mrs. Clayton gives her okay.”

He leaned back in the chair, the leather and springs protesting again. Another grin eased across his lips, causing the warrior in him to relax some. “I value honesty, integrity and a good work ethic, Sabrina. So I hope that’s what’s going on here.”

That’s exactly what was going on. But the way he studied her made her wonder if he thought she had some kind of ulterior motive.

“Maybe we’ve started out on the wrong foot,” he said, his eyes gentling even more.

He was right, but it wasn’t Sabrina who’d set the ground rules. “I’m sure your mother would prefer that we be allies rather than adversaries.”

“Is it too late to start over?”

She wanted to tell him it was. To insist the two of them might never see eye to eye.

Yet as her their gazes locked, as her heart rate slipped into overdrive, she wasn’t so sure.

Jared hadn’t been able to find anything suspicious in the office, so just before seven, he stopped by the kitchen to share a cup of coffee with the men who were downing the last bit of their breakfast—overcooked strips of bacon and misshapen, unevenly browned pancakes. Since Connie, the so-called cook, was nowhere to be seen, Jared suspected that she’d had been too embarrassed to stick around and witness the consumption of the meal.

But rather than hang out with the men any longer, Jared made small talk while he finished his coffee, then excused himself to check on his brother.

It was rare that Jared ever felt as though he was in over his head, but in this case, with three women to question, as well as some of the ranch hands—if he could ever get them alone—he could use Matt’s help.

His brother’s bedroom door was closed, so he knocked lightly.

“Who is it?” Matt asked.

“It’s me.”

“Come on in.”

Jared opened the door and entered the room. Matt was seated in his wheelchair. His dark brown hair was a tousled mess and he hadn’t shaved in days. What most people might not know was that Matt’s spirit had been more broken than his body.

“Want me to help you take a shower?” Jared asked.

“Maybe later.” Matt nodded his head toward the office door. “Find out anything?”

“Not yet, but I haven’t been able to go back too far. If worse comes to worst, I’ll give Grant Whitaker a call.”

“What are you going to do if you find out who’s been tinkering with Granny’s accounts?”

“Press charges for a start.”

Last night, after Doc had called, Jared had given his brother the news. He’d hoped hearing about Granny’s failing health and the missing funds might pull Matt out of the slump he’d been in ever since the accident.

“You have to come with me,” he’d told his brother last night. “I’m going to need help convincing Granny to sell her place and move in with me.”

But if truth be told, Jared had feared leaving Matt alone in his condition. No telling what he might do, even if he’d never made any outright threats to end it all.

Why else would he refuse to go to physical therapy?

If Jared had been the one laid low by shattered bones, he’d be champing at the bit to get better and back on his feet.

Now he was hoping that Matt’s love for Granny would pull him out of the depression that threatened to keep him in that damn chair for the rest of his life.

“I need your help,” he told Matt.

“What kind of help?”

In the past, Matt had always been just as protective and vigilant about the ranch and their mother’s well-being as Jared was, but believing he’d caused the accident that killed his fiancée and her son had crippled him worse than the injuries he’d suffered that fateful night.

“I need you to keep your eyes and ears open. One of the strays Granny took in is a thief, and I’m not sure which one.”

“What about the new bookkeeper?” Matt asked. “She has access to the bank accounts. Have you questioned her yet?”

“I wanted to do some poking around first.” A small part of him hoped the lovely, dark-haired beauty with the skill and the opportunity to rob Granny blind was every bit as ethical and efficient as she claimed to be, although he couldn’t say why. Someone was responsible for the missing funds, and heaven help whoever it was.

“Come on.” Jared stepped behind Matt’s wheelchair and began to push him out of the bedroom. “Let’s go have breakfast, although I gotta tell you it smells much better than it looks. I just hope it tastes okay. When I was in there earlier, I didn’t see any of the ranch hands go for seconds.”

As Jared and Matt entered the hall, they blocked the way of a tall, shapely redhead, who jerked back and gasped in surprise.

Jared opened his mouth to ask which of the freeloaders she was, but having already bumped heads with Sabrina, he decided to exercise a little more diplomacy this time. “We haven’t met. I’m Jared Clayton, Granny’s son, and this is Matthew, my brother.”

“Tori McKenzie. The new housekeeper.” Her gaze slid toward Matt, and curiosity played out on her face.

To her credit, she didn’t ask any questions, which Matt probably appreciated. He didn’t like talking about the car accident that had also ended his rodeo career.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tori said.

“Same here.” Jared forced a grin, yet doubted his brother made the same attempt. Matt didn’t find much to smile about these days.

Tori stepped aside by entering the open doorway to the bathroom, allowing room for Matt’s wheelchair to pass, and Jared continued on his way to the kitchen.

“Well, now,” Granny said from her chair at the antique walnut table that had been in her family for years. “Isn’t this a treat? All we’re missing is Greg.”

The youngest of the three boys, Greg, had always been in the limelight, first as a star football player in college and now as a country-and-western singer.