Chapter 4
4
EMMA
Um, wow. There was a very hot cowboy at the door. Snap shirt and all. Was he flirting with me?
I wouldn’t know, since I hadn’t been on a date in–I didn’t know–two years? Not since I dated Josh, another guy in the production company, for a few weeks. Basically, we’d hooked up while working late one night and had ended things two weeks later, so I didn’t know if it was even considered dating. It had been lame with a capital L. Like no orgasms lame. I’d had to get myself off in the few minutes I had before he came… and left.
No, this guy was stunning. Like a model stepped off the pages of Rugged Magazine . Was there such a magazine? If not, there should have been. Because I could look at cowboys like this all. Day. Long.
I did know there were cowboy calendars. He’d be Mr. January. And February. Every month of the year.
Were these the kinds of guys who frequented Chapman’s ranch? I hadn’t been here long enough to scope the place out. It was huge, and I knew less than nothing about cows other than I liked my beef medium rare. As for cowboys, I liked them just like this guy. If the others on the ranch looked like him, I was going to talk Lyssa into twin-swapping with me like we did when we were younger. I’d excelled at math, and we had swapped for all of her tests for Pre-Cal. I’d stay here and work her job, which didn’t seem to be all that hard or demanding, especially since she wasn’t even here. She could go gallivanting off on whatever her next adventure would be, and I’d sit back and ogle the man candy. According to Lyssa, Chapman rarely even came to this ranch. No one even needed to know I was the wrong twin.
He leaned in the doorway like he’d wanted to get closer to me, and I was into it.
So into it.
He had thick, bulging muscles that couldn’t be contained by his shirt. A five o’clock shadow covered his jaw and upper lip, adding to the “out on the range” look that I never saw in L.A., and bushy eyebrows framed brown eyes that looked haunted. Like this guy had seen things that aged him beyond his years.
“Did you just say, um wow? ” His lips quirked in a sexy grin.
Oh shit! Had I said that out loud? What a dork, what a dork, what a dork!
“I did? Oh. I mean…”
I wracked my brain for something interesting to say. Something flirty. Something cute?
What would Lyssa do?
Before I could figure it out, an ear-splitting alarm erupted throughout the mansion. I jumped about a foot in the air–enough that Hot Cowboy thought he needed to reach out and catch my elbow for support.
I wasn’t sorry about that. Not sorry at all.
“Is something burning?” His voice was a deep velvet rumble. He lifted his nose to scent the air.
“My cookies!” I gasped, finally realizing what had happened. I’d been playing Ms. Domestic in the gorgeous ranch kitchen and decided to bake this afternoon. I’d been about to pull them out of the oven when Hot Cowboy–HC for short–rang the doorbell.
I spun around, leaving HC in the open doorway.
Great. If I burned the place down, I’d lose my chance at keeping my sister’s job and meeting hot cowboys. Then what ?
I dashed into the kitchen, only to realize that HC was right on my heels.
Well, that was sweet. He was the protector type. There weren’t many of those in L.A.
I threw open the oven door and grabbed the hot mitts. Smoke billowed out into my face, and I had to turn away and cough, eyes watering.
“I got it,” he shouted over the alarm. Before I could recover, HC took one of the hot mitts from my hand and pulled the cookies out. “I’ll take this outside.” He disappeared, jogging with the cookie sheet toward the French doors that led to a huge stone terrace and in-ground pool at the back of the house.
Swoon.
It wasn’t like he’d carried me from a burning building, but damn–I might be crazy enough to set fire to this whole place just to have that happen.
I ran for the second set of French doors–because one wasn’t enough–to throw them wide and let more air in.
The smoke alarm continued to screech. I found the switch for the vent over the stove and turned the fan on. HC reappeared and turned off the oven and shut the door.
“How do you turn off the alarm?” he shouted, looking up at the ceiling. “This kind of place has a hardwired system. You probably only have a few minutes before emergency services are notified. ”
Oh shit. “Um, right! Uh…”
I knew where the panel for the security system was. Would it be in the same place? I ran for it near the front door, and HC followed. I punched in the code Lyssa had given me and waited for the alarm to turn off.
No dice.
“Here–” HC’s voice was a deep rumble. He was close enough behind me that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear. Did he have to stand that near to me to help?
Probably not.
Was I at all upset that he had?
Nope, not even a smidge.
He set one hand on my hip and the other reached past me and pushed a couple of buttons. The alarm stopped. My ears still rang with the echoes of it.
I sighed. I used complex computers and advanced programs for all the visual effect work I did, but I couldn’t figure out an alarm set-up. “Thank you.”
HC hadn’t moved–he was still right behind me, his hand now resting on the wall beside the security panel, his body leaning into mine. And that hand on my waist. Big. Gentle. Warm.
I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want him to step back either, but we couldn’t stare at the panel all day. Slowly, I turned to face him.
He didn’t pull back. In fact, he leaned down .
Our lips were now separated by inches, and he was studying mine, like he was thinking about kissing me.
Yes, please.
Kiss me, cowboy.
Or should I kiss him? Just a peck? Like, a thank you kiss? That was what Lyssa would do if a hot cowboy rescued her from a burning cookie incident.
“I, uh, didn’t get your name,” I whispered.
He still didn’t pull back. Didn’t give me any space, and I freaking loved it. Could he see the way my heart was pounding? My palms were sweaty, and I was overwhelmed. Nervous. Anxious I would keep on messing up, and he’d know I wasn’t cool and bold Lyssa.
For one hot second, the reality of being Boring Emma, the out-of-work designer with no social life felt like it weighed a million pounds.
I wanted to be glamorous Lyssa. The wild, carefree spirit who landed cushy jobs getting paid to do nothing on a billionaire’s ranch and then skipped town with a sultan for a week of hot, hopefully protected sex. Who could talk with men. Hell, who could meet a stranger in a bar, hook up, then go off with him to Ibiza.
I didn’t even have a passport.
I’d done it. I’d quit. Walked away from a shitty situation without any kind of safety net. That had been a Lyssa move. Could I do another one? Be all flirty and fun? Gah, not as me–that would be impossible. Emma didn’t do that. But I could fake it.
I smiled. “I’m Lyssa Lane, Mr. Chapman’s caretaker.”
Good God, what was I doing? A thrill shot through me at how risky… and exhilarating this was.
We were too close to shake hands. We were practically sharing breath. I could see his every freckle. Wanted to lift my hands and trace the contours of his sculpted chest.
“Caretaker, nice.” Gawd, that deep rumble went straight to my pussy. “Not, girlfriend?”
OMG–he was interested! In me !
My smile grew wider. “Nope. I’m no one’s girlfriend. Totally available.” Now, I was starting to feel like Lyssa. As if taking on her name imbued me with the ability to go wild. To flirt and ditch all responsibilities–not that I had any while here. To believe in my own luck. That I’d come out on top no matter what happened.
“I didn’t get your name.” I was definitely flirting. Should I twirl a lock of hair? Bite my lip?
“I’m Johnny.”
Yes, you are.
“Do you work on this ranch?” I asked. “I’m pretty new and haven’t met anyone yet.”
He shook his head. “I’m an associate of Mitch’s. From Cooper Valley. ”
I had no idea where that was, but it didn’t really matter.
“Thanks for helping with the, um” –I flapped a hand in the direction of the kitchen– “cookie fiasco.”
He grinned. “Yeah, what happened there? Those had to have been in the oven for way longer than just the few minutes it took you to answer the door.”
“Did they? I set a timer…” As I said it, I realized I must not have. I’d put the cookies in, tried to figure out how to use the fancy washing machine to put a load of laundry in–that had taken fifteen minutes at least–before HC–er–Johnny–had rang the doorbell. “Maybe I forgot to set a timer. Obviously, I’m terrible with them.” I laughed at myself, instead of dying of mortification. That was what Lyssa would do, brush it off with a smile. “I haven’t made cookies in a really long time. It’s too bad they’re ruined. I would’ve offered you some to thank you for your help.”
“And I would eat them.” His throat bobbed. His eyes went dark and dropped to rove over my body. “The cookies, I mean. Or really, anything you, uh, let me eat.” He rolled his lips together and relaxed them. “I do like to eat, Lyssa.”
Oh. My. God.
This was happening.
This was seriously happening .
This cowboy was totally into me. I could have him right now if I wanted.
But that wouldn’t be safe. That would be nuts. I didn’t know this guy at all. He could be a psycho killer. He could have an STD. He could–
I thought of Lyssa. She probably hadn’t known the Sultan of Arunai any better than I knew this guy when they hooked up, and she flew on his private jet to Ibiza. Right about now she was probably sunning herself on an exclusive beach or a private yacht, and I bet she had no idea where Arunai was.
Nothing bad ever happened to her. She had fun. Adventures. She lived.
What would Lyssa do with Johnny?
She would let him eat if that’s what he wanted to do.
Yes. Yes, she would. So in my mind, I took off my big girl panties and swapped them for a sexy, lacy thong. I could do this. I could do this.
I bit my lip, then said, “You hungry, cowboy?”