Marion Lennox - Taming the Brooding Cattleman

It didn’t matter what he wanted, he thought. He knew what he had to do.

He’d offered her a job. This stud needed her.

That was all it was. An employer/employee relationship, starting now.

If she stayed.

He shouldn’t want her to stay—but he did.

Would she stay?

Did it matter?

She lay back in the vast, old-fashioned bathtub and let the hot water soothe her soul. Nothing mattered but this hot water.

And the fact that she’d saved a mare and foal. It was what she was trained to do and the outcome was deeply satisfying.

And the fact that Jack Connor had offered her a job?

She shouldn’t take it. He was an arrogant, chauvinistic toad, she told herself. And this place was a dump.

Except … it wasn’t. The stables were brilliant. The equipment Jack had, not just medical stuff but every single horse fitting, was first-class. He’d poured money into the stables, into the horses, rather than the house.

She could forgive a lot of a man who put his animals’ needs before his own.

And he’d fix the bathroom. He’d promised. She could have a bath like this every night.

She wouldn’t have to go home and do her mother’s bidding.

She could stay … with Jack?

Maybe she needed a bit of cold water in this bath.

Whoa. That was exactly the sort of thing she didn’t need to be thinking. Jack Connor was an arrogant man. The fact that he was drop-dead sexy, the fact that he’d smiled down at the foal and his smile made her toes curl …

Neither of those things could be allowed to matter.

Or both of those things should make her run a mile.

She shouldn’t stay.

She poked one pink toe out of the water and surveyed it with care. She’d had her toenails painted before she left New York.

What was she thinking, getting her toenails painted to come here?

‘Not to impress Jack Connor, that’s for sure,’ she told herself. ‘If I stay here it’ll be hobnail boots for the duration.’

Good. That was what she was here for. She was not here to impress Jack Connor.

She’d saved his mare and foal. She’d made that grim face break into a smile.

He’d made her an egg.

‘You’re a fool, Alex Patterson,’ she told herself. ‘Your father thinks of you as a boy. If you’re going to stay here, you need to think of yourself as one, too. No interest in a very sexy guy.’

No?

No.

But her toe was still out of the water.

The toe was a symbol. Most of Alex Patterson was one very sensible vet. There was a tiny bit, though, that refused to be sensible.

There was a tiny bit remembering that smile.

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