Porcupine Ranch. Sally Carleen

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СКАЧАТЬ all those things.

      Well, she couldn’t, so why did his attitude upset her? She could design complex computer programs as easily as most people wrote letters, but her cooking skills stopped with peanut butter and blackberry jam sandwiches or an occasional frozen dinner.

      She ought to stand up, agree with Clayton, thank him for the interview and leave. She’d promised only to come out here and apply for the job. She could honestly tell Samuel she’d done her best. And she had warned him there was no way she’d actually be hired.

      Stand! she ordered her legs. Up!

      They ignored her.

      She wasn’t surprised.

      “Your former employer gave you a glowing recommendation,” Clayton continued.

      “Glowing recommendation?” she repeated, her surprise conquering her nerves sufficiently to give her a voice.

      Omni Software, Inc. had given her a glowing recommendation as a housekeeper?

      That was impossible. Of course they hadn’t. He must be trying to let her know that he knew who she was and knew this whole thing was a hoax.

      She dropped her head, letting her masses of unruly hair fall protectively forward. She should have felt relief that it was all over, but instead her cheeks flooded with embarrassment.

      It wasn’t enough that she looked like a complete idiot in front of Clayton Sinclair, now she’d been exposed as a deceitful idiot.

      “Yes, your employer said you were the best house-keeper he’s ever had.” Clayton’s tone was dry and unenthusiastic…a little angry, she thought. Not that she blamed him, considering the circumstances. “Actually I didn’t talk to Mr. Taylor directly.”

      Hannah gasped, her head snapping upright at the mention of the surname Samuel had taken years ago when he’d awakened in a mental hospital in California, unable to remember his last name or how he got there. By the time he’d fully regained his memory, he’d already begun his business under that name and had kept it.

       What had Samuel done?

      Clayton frowned at her gasp, then continued. “Glen Ramsey, my banker, tells me that Mr. Taylor, who’s one of his major depositors, has given you a good reference and would really appreciate it if I’d hire you. This message comes from my banker who holds the note on this ranch—a man I really need to keep happy.”

      Now she knew what Samuel had done. Pressured somebody at the bank to pressure Clayton. No wonder he’d been so unconcerned about her lack of skills! The game had been rigged from the beginning.

      If she got out of there without having a stroke, she’d kill Samuel.

      “I’m sorry he did that,” she mumbled, staring at the floor, again letting her hair fall forward around her face, embarrassed at her friend’s tactics.

      She rose on shaky legs. Less shaky than when she’d come in, though. Now she had a purpose. Make it home to kill Samuel.

      Clayton heaved a long sigh. “No, no. Sit back down. It’s all right. I don’t have applicants for this job lined up for ten miles down the road, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have time to interview them. I need a housekeeper, and I need one now.”

      Hannah lifted her head. Surely he wasn’t saying what it sounded like he was saying.

      He ran a hand through his hair, shifting the strands of light and shadow. She could almost feel the coarse texture, the warmth brought inside from days of working in the sunshine.

      And sweating under a cowboy hat, she told herself in an unsuccessful effort to shut down her flight into fantasy. This was a real, working cowboy, not someone from a movie.

      Somehow that thought made Clayton even more attractive.

      “I don’t like being pressured, but, on the other hand, I really don’t care how I get a housekeeper as long as I get somebody who can do the job. Samuel Taylor assured my banker that you’re a very competent housekeeper and that you could handle the work with no problem.” A slight frown darted across his features, creasing his forehead between his eyebrows and making his jawline look even more square. “I just didn’t expect you to be so…” He spread his hands, moved them close together then far apart.

      Hannah watched in tense fascination, wondering what he hadn’t expected her to be.

      “My former housekeeper was fifty years old,” he said, “and, uh, sturdy. Mrs. Grogan could throw a hundred-pound sack of feed over her shoulder and carry it to the barn. Not that you’d be required to do that, of course.”

      Hannah straightened her admittedly slim shoulders. Was he suggesting she couldn’t heft a hundred pound bag over her shoulder and carry it to the barn?

      “You think I can’t?”

      He looked at her dubiously, and her shoulders slumped.

      Certainly she couldn’t. Why did it bother her that he had pointed out the obvious? She couldn’t cook or do laundry or polish floors, either, so why should she feel indignant and upset that he wasn’t going to hire her to do just that? Hadn’t she learned after all these years that it was pointless to try to succeed at activities for which she had no ability?

      “We’ve been three weeks without a housekeeper,” he went on, ignoring her dumb question. “Mrs. Grogan left unexpectedly when her mother up in Oklahoma had a stroke. Last week she called to say she was going to have to stay there. My extra hands for the spring roundup came on two days ago, and the five of them have been complaining ever since about having to eat sandwiches after doing the work of ten men.”

      He slapped one big hand on his denim-covered thigh, making her jump. “Okay, so you’re young and, uh, slim. I guess neither one of those problems is fatal. We’re in a financial crunch right now and I probably can’t start you at what you were making, but if the salary I mentioned in the ad is okay, you’ve got the job.”

      Hannah fell back into the chair.

      “The job?” she croaked. “I’ve got…?”

       Chapter Two

      Clayton studied his new housekeeper curiously. Her disjointed response to his job offer was the oddest he’d ever encountered. While he resented his banker’s pressure tactics, at the same time, he’d been relieved that his search was over. He was ready to hire the woman and be done with it.

      His comment that he didn’t have time to interview a lot of applicants had been a gross understatement. This was the busiest time of the year as well as the most expensive, what with the extra hands. Every minute he spent interviewing cost him money—and money was something that was in short supply, especially with the continuing drought.

      He hadn’t had any doubts about hiring Hannah Lindsay until he’d opened the door and seen her standing there, looking terrified and completely out of place.

      She was a little taller than average, but so slim he was afraid the first СКАЧАТЬ