Once Tempted (8 page)

Reid laughed. His older brother shot him a look that probably would have sent most people slinking out the door. Reid was unfazed—if anything, he seemed even more amused.

Ward turned his attention back to his mother. “I’m glad you like the scarf. It looks beautiful on you.” He kissed her cheek. “Hi, Reid.” He paused infinitesimally and then nodded. “Tess.”

She replied with an equally impassive, “Good morning.” Determined to avoid a lengthier exchange, she raised the bouquet Reid had given her to sniff the freesias’ peppery perfume, lowering it only when she heard the sound of the other staff members filing into the meeting room.

Phil Onofrie, who handled reservations and marketing
for the guest ranch, and Macie Paulsen, the events planner, called out cheerful greetings before taking their seats around the table.

“Where are Dad and the brat?” Reid asked, walking over to the side table where Tess had placed a carafe of coffee and white porcelain mugs. He poured himself a cup.

“Your dad’s calling Aunt Lucy to wish her a happy Valentine’s. And your sister is—”

“Here.” Quinn strode into the room. Striking and carelessly beautiful, Quinn had her mother’s blue eyes and wide, slashing cheekbones, and her brother Reid’s lanky build. Tess had yet to see her dressed in anything but faded jeans, T-shirts, and cowboy boots. Today’s pick was a faded long-sleeve T with
COWBOY JUNKIES
emblazoned across her chest. She wore her thick blond hair in a ponytail. Tess wasn’t sure she’d bothered to brush it before pulling it back.

“Alberta was hiding,” she explained as she made a beeline for the laden table. “It took Carlos and me half an hour to find her. Clever she-devil.” She plucked a slice of the orange-scented olive oil cake off the plate and popped it into her mouth. “Yum. This one has my vote.”

“That’s what you always say,” Reid noted.

“Which one is Alberta again?” Ward asked.

“My Toggenburg kid. That’s a young goat to you, city girl,” she informed Tess with a teasing grin.

Tess inclined her head. “Thanks for enriching my vocabulary.”

“You’re welcome. Just so you know, it has not escaped my attention that you have yet to set foot in any of the barns or make the acquaintance of any of our animals.”

On his way to the coffee station, Ward passed close
enough for Tess to catch his dry murmur of, “Might be difficult in those heels.”

She pretended she hadn’t heard him. Even if the closet in the one-room cabin where she now lived was stocked exclusively with cowboy boots, she had no desire to say hi to any of Silver Creek’s horses, cattle, goats, or any other creatures in Quinn’s extensive menagerie.

She had even less desire to win Ward’s good opinion.

Maintaining her resentment made it easier to ignore the discomfiting realization that she now recognized his scent, an annoyingly pleasing combination of citrus, leather, and man. It didn’t help that the curling ends of his hair were damp. She could smell the shampoo he’d used. And no, she was not going to imagine Ward Knowles naked in the shower, suds sliding down his muscled body.

“Speaking of animals, Happy Valentine’s Day, brat.” Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Ward drew out an envelope and handed it to Quinn.

Quinn began tearing it open but then paused. “Nothing mushy in here, right? No cupids or hearts?” she asked suspiciously.

“It was Reid’s turn to prank you this year.”

“Aww, now you’ve spoiled it,” Reid complained. “Besides, Quinn might enjoy a lacy sequined push-up bra and matching—”

Quinn raised a hand to halt his flow of words. “Stop right there.”

“—panties. The line’s called ‘Hello Bombshell.’ I thought they were right up your alley,” he finished.

“You wretch.” Quinn was fighting back a smile and losing. “How do you dupe all those women into thinking you’re anything but pure evil? No, I really don’t want to hear your answer. Let me open my sober and responsible brother’s present.”

“Damned with faint praise, huh, Ward?” Reid observed. “Nothing worse than being labeled sober and responsible in the same sentence.”

Ward didn’t seem particularly perturbed. He was busy watching Quinn’s reaction as she pulled the card from the envelope and opened it.

Quinn’s delighted squeal confirmed the present’s success. She launched herself at her oldest brother, flinging her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you.” She planted a loud smooch on his lean cheek. “You’re the best.” She turned to address the others. “Ward’s adopted another horse for me,” she told them happily.

Quinn not only helped raise the animals at Silver Creek; she adopted them, too. Horses seemed to be her animal of choice, but there’d been mention of various cats, dogs, rabbits, and birds that Quinn had either rescued or fostered. And a potbellied pig. Tess wasn’t sure what made a potbellied pig different from any other kind, and she wasn’t about to inquire.

“You can pick the horse up next week,” Ward told his sister.

“Very thoughtful, Ward.” The deep voice of Daniel Knowles carried easily. “Hey, Dad, how’s Aunt Lucy?”

“Frantic. Apparently there’s still a lot to be done before the inn’s grand opening.”

Tess had heard Adele and Daniel talk about Lucy and Peter Whittaker. Lucy Whittaker was Daniel’s sister and also involved in the hotel business. She and her husband had bought an old farm outside of Aiken, South Carolina, and were transforming it into an inn for lovers of all things equestrian.

Daniel Knowles’s gaze swept the room. With Daniel present, Tess could see where Ward got his tall, muscular build—as well as his air of command. “So now that
we’re all here, let’s sit down and get started on the important business of the day.” He grinned and Tess saw the source of Reid’s endless charm—charm that Ward had obviously missed out on at birth. “I, for one, want to see if that cake tastes as good as it looks.”

A
CASUALLY CHOREOGRAPHED
dance had begun, a stretch and retreat of arms and torsos as the baked treats were plucked from the center of the table and placed onto the small dessert plates Tess had distributed.

Staff tastings, while far from arduous, were nonetheless taken seriously. Roo Rodgers and Jeff Sullivan, the chef de cuisine, were dedicated to their art. They expected the judgments passed on their culinary creations to be precise and considered. Adele had told Tess that she’d actually had to bar them from attending the staff meetings when food was being sampled. The sessions had begun to feel too much like a
Top Chef
episode in reverse, with the cooks grilling the judges. Often their interrogations took so long no other business got done.

Busy putting her and Adele’s bouquets into vases, Tess had been the last to take her place at the table. When she lowered herself onto the leather and metal chair, she caught Ward’s speculative gaze.

She suspected he reserved this special scrutiny just for her, solely to unnerve her. It wasn’t that he looked at her often. Most of the time his focus was elsewhere. But when his gaze did settle on her, it never failed to distract.
And he was far too perceptive a man not to notice his effect on her.

Even worse was the constant temptation to sneak glances his way. She might not like Ward much, but it was difficult not to admire the boldly carved lines of his face, from his aquiline nose to the sensual fullness of his lips to his squared jaw. There was nothing weak or soft about that face. His chiseled profile could have graced an ancient Roman coin.

Sometimes she grew careless and her eyes lingered a fraction too long. Suddenly she would find herself caught in the magnetic pull of his gold-chipped gaze. A seeming eternity would pass, and then just as suddenly he’d release her and she’d be left feeling as ruffled and bothered as he’d made her feel that January afternoon when they’d first met, when their breaths had mingled and her pulse had raced as if she were on her first date. Infuriating man.

She’d gotten smarter. This morning she had her pen and notebook at the ready. Best, the tactic was completely justified. As Adele’s assistant, taking notes on the meetings fell into her job description. Since their banishment from the tastings, Roo and Jeff received a full record of everyone’s reactions.

The comments had already started. The orange-scented olive oil cake was a universal success; everyone mentioned its moistness and color and felt it could be served as a dessert for lunch as well as during high tea. The goat’s milk cheesecake also received a thumbs-up. That the goat’s milk came from Quinn’s beloved goats would be a huge selling point for the foodies who visited the guest ranch. More and more of them were finding their way to Silver Creek.

This group wasn’t a pushover, however. Adele, as generous as she was, made the first cut.

“The rum apple cake strikes me as a tad too heavy for a spring menu,” she said.

“You’re right, sweetheart,” Daniel said. “Let’s suggest to Roo that she incorporate it into the fall menu. And I’m not impressed by the lemon macaroons. They—”

“Just don’t compare to her ganache ones,” Adele finished his sentence. “I agree.”

“Yeah, the ganache ones were amazing,” Quinn said. “Can we ask Roo to start baking them again? Though I like these apricot-hazelnut bars, too.” With the enthusiasm she typically displayed during the tasting sessions, she plucked a chocolate oatmeal drop cookie from the plate, took a bite, and chewed. Atypically she frowned. “But this one—nope. Too ho-hum.” She fell silent, chewing, considering.

“The cookies need a little kick. A dash of cayenne, maybe,” Ward said.

Tess frowned at her notebook as she wrote down his observation. Darn him for having figured out what she hadn’t. He was entirely too good at zeroing in on a missing ingredient.

“So how are we doing for the day’s schedule? Any glitches?” Daniel asked, his air of authority tempered by his obvious love and respect for Adele.

“As of five
A.M.
we have three new healthy, tail-wiggling lambs. The horses Quinn and I are using on the morning trail ride are brushed. Holly, Frank, and Jim are tacking them as we speak. Twenty-one guests signed up,” Ward told him.

Tess had already come to understand the long hours Ward logged tending to the ranch and running the business end of the guest accommodations. As impressive as they were, they didn’t outnumber his character defects. In her opinion, he still had a long way to go in the personality department.

Reid spoke. “I called down to the barn on my way here. No one’s canceled for the morning trail ride or for the afternoon ride Mitch and I are leading.”

Daniel nodded. “Good.”

“How are we doing with rebookings, Phil?” Adele asked.

Phil’s grin was happy. “Very promising so far. We’ve already got requests for next year’s Valentine’s Day as well as for other weekend dates. We’ve had a substantial increase in calls since the ad campaign.”

“And how about the other weekend activities?” Adele asked.

“I confirmed with the band that’s playing tonight,” Macie said. “And Naomi’s bringing two additional instructors for the yoga classes. Ava Day said they have eight bookings for manis, pedis, and facials from Silver Creek today. They’re thrilled with the extra business.”

“I’m glad we’re able to send customers her way. She’s done a fantastic job with her salon,” Adele said.

“I have a feeling we’ll be sending Ava even more business come this June. Guess who called me this morning?”

Since everyone else was looking at Ward expectantly, Tess allowed her gaze to cross the table.

“Brian,” he answered, which meant nothing to her. “He’s proposed to Carrie.”

Around the table rose a lot of “So happy for the couple” sounds. They floated as lightly as soap bubbles blown on a warm summer’s day and vanished just as quickly at Ward’s next words: “They’d like to have the wedding here at Silver Creek.”

“Oh,” Adele said faintly.

“Have we recovered from the last wedding?” Daniel asked.

“My ears haven’t.” Reid made a show of tugging his earlobe. “They’re still ringing from the bridesmaids’ drunken karaoke set. The thing lasted until four
A.M.
Past even my bedtime.”

“And the next morning, the makeup artist pitched a fit when all the ladies showed up with faces the color of pea soup,” Quinn said. “And the hairstylist had to take twice as long because they kept moaning whenever the hairbrush came near. It was pitiful.”

“Now, Quinn,” her father said with mild reproof.

“It was,” Quinn insisted. “Don’t you remember how you had to threaten the groom’s frat brothers with the police? They were trying to ride the steers. The dopes thought it’d be fun to race them,” she explained for Tess’s benefit.

Tess glanced at Daniel. His dark head was streaked with gray at the temples. Combined with his commanding air, he had the look of an ambassador. Even so, Tess had difficulty imagining this reserved man negotiating with a bunch of drunken wedding guests intent on riding his cattle.

“Oh, yes, it’s all coming back to me now. That was a dreadful wedding! We had to air out the guest rooms for days afterward. They didn’t tip the cleaning staff, either.” Adele’s voice was clipped and infinitely disapproving.