Molly O'Keefe - Mr. Predictable

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Mr. Predictable by Carol FinchHe was about to become a wild man…Thanks to his meddling sisters, J. T. Prescott's predictable life is about to change radically. They've booked him a two-week stay at Moriah Randell's ranch for stressed-out business execs. Soon J.T. finds that a little unpredictability in the form of gorgeous Moriah is just what he needs. But not even J.T. can predict what will happen next!Too Many Cooks by Molly O'Keefe A recipe for disaster?Rugged Montana cowboy Ethan Cook and straitlaced, L.A. social worker Cecelia Brady are far from made for each other. But Cecelia is on a mission to save inner-city kids, and Morning Glory ranch is the perfect setup. What Ethan and Cecelia don't know is, both of them are being set up by an entire family of matchmaking Cooks. And everyone knows what happens when there are too many cooks…!

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His eyes twinkled and he smiled, though the muscles in the left side of his cheek drooped noticeably. “I was, wasn’t I?”

“Damn straight, Dad.”

While Will turned his attention to the new remote he’d designed to control all the lights in Moriah’s apartment, she iced the cake—and cursed herself soundly when her thoughts circled back to Jake. She couldn’t keep avoiding him. She’d left a rose on his doorstep this morning and asked Tom Stevens to deliver the glass of wine the previous night. It wasn’t like her to dodge awkward situations. She usually laughed and smiled her way through them.

Unfortunately, the tactic didn’t work quite as well with Jake. She was entirely too aware of him, too attracted to him, too embarrassed that she’d climbed all over him and groped at him while they’d kissed each other breathless. Sweet mercy! That was totally out of character for her. She didn’t do stuff like that—until Jake came along.

Moriah sighed in frustration, wondering what had gotten into her. She’d never reacted to a man like that before. She had to keep her distance and clear the air—sexually charged though it most definitely was—between them. Tomorrow she’d have a nonchalant visit with Jake, she decided as she slathered vanilla icing on the strawberry cake. They’d get past that impulsive kiss and things would be back on an even keel—she hoped.

JAKE PACED the floorboards, then checked his watch for the umpteenth time in two hours. This place was driving him straight south to crazyville! He’d had nothing to do all day and he’d had all day to do it. Sure, he’d checked out a canoe and paddled Spitwad on the river for an hour, and then he’d hiked up the hillside path to visually pan the plush valley below. Still, he felt edgy, restless and twitchy. He needed a computer mouse under his fingertips and a monitor screen to stare at. He needed to work to keep his mind off Moriah who’d been avoiding him since that sizzling kiss that made him uncomfortable in all the wrong places.

He needed to apologize—if he could manage to get her alone for more than five seconds. She’d breezed by once or twice, flashing that cheery smile, on her way to visit other guests, but she’d taken a noticeably wide berth around Jake.

He checked his watch again, then glanced down to see Spitwad sprawled on the floor, sound asleep. Speaking of sleep, Jake couldn’t believe he’d slept until eight o’clock this morning. Ordinarily, he was up and at ’em by six. He was pretty sure Moriah had added a sedative to the wine she had Tom deliver the previous evening. Surely his internal time clock and razor-sharp business edge hadn’t deserted him on their own accord. There had to be a reason—like sleeping potions and tranquilizers and such, he decided suspiciously.

Whirling around, Jake headed for the door. He was going to find Moriah and get things squared away. She needed to know there’d be no more kissing, that he’d keep his hands to himself. She wouldn’t have to feel wary or uncomfortable around him because he wasn’t going to touch her again—ever.

Jake strode swiftly toward the lodge that was lit up like a Christmas tree in the darkness. He’d probably have to chitchat with the other guests a while before he managed to draw Moriah aside. He’d get the apology over with and then hightail it back to his cabin to play tug-of-war with Spitwad. The mutt had already chewed a hole in one of Jake’s socks, so he’d tied the demolished sock in a knot and whiled away his time with the pesky pup. Amazing what lengths a guy would go to when he had to entertain himself—or risk going insane from boredom. In two weeks he’d probably be nuttier than a jar of Jif.

Jake was fifty feet from the lodge when Moriah appeared on the porch. The golden glow spotlighted and accentuated her eye-catching physique. She was wearing a jungle-print ensemble that featured zebras, tigers, colorful parrots and frothy ferns. Her blond hair was piled loosely atop her head by some invisible means of support he couldn’t figure out. Damn, but he’d like to unwind that silky mass of hair and run his fingers through it, then pull her lush body against—

Jake gnashed his teeth and cursed himself soundly. Damn it, he had to get past this physical attraction and he better do it fast.

“Hi, Jake,” Moriah called out, waving her arms like a cheerleader on the sidelines. “I was on my way over to see you.”

“Yeah? What for?” Did he sound casual enough? Too snippy and uptight? He tried for a neutral tone that disguised his frustration. “So, what’s up, Mo?”

“There’s something I want to show you.” She gestured for him to follow her into the lodge. “Come on inside and have a look.”

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