Sliding his hands low on her back, he pulled her against his aching crotch and slid his tongue over hers. He felt her tug his shirt loose and rub her hands over his bare abdomen, and the temperature in the barn rose exponentially.

Jackson sucked in a quick draft of air and pulled his mouth from hers, swearing under his breath. He stared into her eyes, dark with arousal, and swore again.

She licked her lips as she gasped for her own breath, and she might as well have stroked him intimately with her pink tongue. “If that was step two, what is step three?”

“There is no step three,” he said, more for himself than for her. “You are a client. There shouldn’t have been step two.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not just a client to you.”

“That’s right. You’re the key to a promotion and a bonus, and you’re a pain in the ass.”

She glanced away, but not before he glimpsed a flash of hurt in her eyes. Then she lifted her chin, and her gaze trailed down the front of him, lingering on his crotch before she met his gaze. “Your ass isn’t what’s going to be hurting tonight. Enjoy your cold shower,” she said and walked out of the barn.

Jackson was left with the tempting, taunting image of her round ass and a hard-on that showed no signs of quitting.

Geoffrey dutifully helped Lori clean the cabins the next morning. When she went to clean the stalls, he wandered to the corral and watched Maria finishing up the morning session with horse therapy. She was firm with the horses, yet gentle and encouraging with the children.

One young girl kept reaching to touch Maria’s long wavy hair. Maria picked her up and set her on her hip, allowing the girl to play with her hair. She was so beautiful she took Geoffrey’s breath away.

There was something wild and wounded about her that stirred him. He wondered what her story was, why she seemed to carry a chip on her shoulder, what kind of men she’d had in her past. There had to be dozens who’d tried to get her affection.

That body, that fire, could drive a man to do something reckless. As if she knew he was watching her, she glanced up at him. She met his gaze for a searing few seconds, then glanced away as if dismissing him.

She may as well have thrown down a gauntlet. Her dismissal was a challenge. He would love to take her up on it. Closing his eyes, he thought of his family obligation. No matter how tempting Maria was, he had to stick to the plan. Lori Granger was the woman who could save his family. Not Maria.

That afternoon, however, Geoffrey wasn’t sure how it happened, but Virginia assigned him the task of helping Maria in the kitchen. Lori had left to go grocery shopping with Virginia.

Maria sighed and shook her head. She muttered in Spanish for several moments as she chopped a whole chicken into pieces. Although he didn’t understand the words, her tone was unmistakable.

“Pardon me, but if you’re going to insult me, would you please do so in a language I can understand so I can at least defend myself?”

She chopped off a chicken leg and met his gaze. “I was talking to myself, but if you must know, I was saying it was stupid to pretend that you would actually help me in the kitchen.”

“Why is that stupid?”

“You know how to cook?”

He knew how to use a microwave, a toaster, and a teapot. “I’ve spent some time in the kitchen. Why don’t you give me a try?”

She gave him a considering glance. “Okay.” She went to the cupboard, pulled out two large onions, and gave him a knife. “I need these diced.”

Geoffrey shrugged. “Right-o. Where’s the food processor?”

Maria smiled. “You are the food processor.”

Geoffrey faced the task like a man-more importantly, an Englishman. Englishmen didn’t cry, and he was bloody well determined not to cry.

After he finished the first onion, his nose started to run, so he began to breathe through his mouth. As he completed the last of his slicing and dicing, he triumphantly offered Maria the spoils of his victory. A pile of diced onion.

She lifted a dark eyebrow. “Bueno,” she said. “I’m surprised.”

“No need to be,” he said. “I told you I’m quite handy in the kitchen.”

Maria pulled two more huge onions from the cupboard. “Then you won’t mind dicing a couple more.”

With the stiff upper lip bred into him, Geoffrey sliced and diced the second two onions. This time, however, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity to indulge his curiosity about Maria.

“You’re not married, are you?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Do you have a lover or a boyfriend?” he asked. “Or several?”

She frowned at him. “That’s none of your business.”

“That must mean you have a dozen lovers but you don’t like to show off.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes widened in surprise. “I do not-”

“Aha,” he said, continuing to chop and dice. “But you could have.”

“Not around here,” she said. “There aren’t a lot of men around.” She shrugged as she placed chicken parts into a casserole dish. “It’s probably for the best. Men aren’t dependable.”

He blinked. “That’s a bit of a global generalization, wouldn’t you say? Surely some men are dependable.”

“Very few,” she said.

“That you’ve met,” he corrected. “Have you always lived in Texas?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you like it here?”

She shrugged again. “I know nothing else. I know I like Virginia ’s ranch much better than my father’s house.”

Geoffrey studied her expression and felt an uneasiness about the way her voice lowered when she mentioned her father’s house.

He paused for a long moment. “He was abusive to you,” he said.

She didn’t look up at him. “Yes. He gave me the scar.”

He looked at the jagged scar that ran from her cheek nearly to her jaw. “This may sound crazy, but I don’t notice the scar unless you mention it.”

That must have gotten her attention, because she glanced up to meet his gaze. “How can you not notice it?”

His lips twitched. “You have so many other things to look at.”

She gave him a hard look, then glanced away. “You lie.”

“I do not,” he said, unable to keep indignation from his voice.

She met his gaze again. “It’s impossible not to notice my scar. It covers half my face.”

“It depends what you’re focusing on,” he said, setting down his knife. “Take your hair, for example.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s long and beautiful, wavy. I wonder how it would feel in my hands. I wonder how it smells.”

She gave him a half glance of flashing eyes before looking away. “It smells like onions and chicken.”

He chuckled. “Then there are your eyes, so dark, full of secrets. You have many other very watchable-” He cleared his throat as his gaze wandered to her breasts and hips. “Attributes.”

She met his eyes, and her lips tilted in a reluctant smile. “You are a strange man. Are you finished with the onions?”

“Two more minutes,” he said and quickly finished the task. He offered her the pile. “Don’t tell me you have more for me to do.”

“No,” she said. “Four is enough.”

“That was a stinky job,” he told her.

“Yes.”

Something about this woman made him feel reckless. Just looking at her made his adrenaline hum. “I believe it made my lips go numb.”

She wrinkled her eyebrow as she studied his mouth. “They went numb? Are you allergic to onion? Ay caramba, you should have told me,” she said as she drew closer to him.

“Actually, you can fix them if you wouldn’t mind.”

“How?”

“I believe you just need to press your mouth against mine, and then they would be better.”

She blinked in surprise, then shook her head at him. “You are either very brave or very stupid to ask me to kiss you when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Agreed,” he said, throwing a wary glance at the knife out of the corner of his eye. “I’m hoping such bravery and the dicing of four onions will be rewarded.”