Seduction, Westmoreland Style(9)

By: Brenda Jackson


And with good reason, McKinnon thought. Everybody around those parts knew that even in his late forties, Cal Hooper, a local rancher, still considered himself a ladies’ man and had a reputation for playing fast and loose with women. If the rumors one heard were true, he was also the father of a number of illegitimate children around Bozeman . McKinnon’s gaze shifted to Casey once again. She was walking toward them and he could tell from the pout on her lush mouth that she wasn’t glad he was there. In fact, she looked downright annoyed.

“McKinnon,” she acknowledged when she reached them.

“Casey. That was a good show of horsemanship,” he said.

“Thank you.” Although she’d said the words he could tell from her expression that she couldn’t care less what he thought.

“I agree with McKinnon. You did a fantastic job out there, Casey.”

The smile she gave her father was genuine. “Thanks, Corey. Vicious Glance will be fine now. He just needed to know that someone else, namely whoever is riding him, is always in control.”

“Well, I need to talk to Jack about how we’ll be handling him from now on. Excuse me for a moment,” Corey said before walking off, leaving them alone.

A few brief moments after Corey left, McKinnon tilted his hat back and looked down at Casey. His eyes narrowed. Before offering her the job there was something he needed to get straight with her, here and now. “Don’t you ever set foot on Quinn land and pull a stunt like you did yesterday. You had no way of knowing what that blasted horse was going to do. You could have been killed.”

“But I’m very much alive, aren’t I?” she said snippily, deciding the last thing she needed was for this man to dictate what she could or could not do.” “You’re not my father, McKinnon.”

“Thank God for that.”

Casey drew in a deep, irritated breath. “I think we’ve said enough to each other, don’t you think?” She moved to walk away.

“Aren’t you curious as to why I’m here?” he asked.

She frowned up at him. “Not really. I assumed you came to see Corey.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I came to see you.”

She placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “And why would you come to see me?”

“To offer you that job you were interested in yesterday.”

She glared at him. “That was yesterday. I have no desire to work for a male chauvinist tyrant.”

McKinnon frowned. “A male chauvinist tyrant?”

“Yes, that about describes you to a tee. Now if you will excuse me, I—”

“The pay is good and you’ll need to stay at the ranch, in the guesthouse.”

Casey threw her head back and squared her shoulders. “Don’t let me tell you where you can take the pay and guest-house and shove it, McKinnon. Like I said, I’m no longer interested. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

He watched as she walked off, swaying her hips with each and every step she took. He couldn’t help but admire her spunk, but he refused to let her have the upper hand. “Casey?” he said, calling after her.

She stopped walking and slowly turned around. “What?”

“Think about my offer and let me know within a week.”

Her glare was priceless. “There’s nothing to think about it, McKinnon. The last thing I want is to work for you.” She then turned back around and continued walking.

Her words irritated the hell out of him because deep down he didn’t want her to come work for him either. But dammit, he needed her…rather he needed her skill with horses. And more than anything he had to remember there was a difference in the two.





Chapter 3





The nerve of the man, Casey thought as she slipped into the soapy water in the huge claw-foot bathtub. He was an American, so why didn’t he understand English? How many times did she have to say she didn’t want to work for him to make herself clear?

She settled back against the tub and closed her eyes. The man was simply infuriating and like she’d told him, he would be the last person she worked for. She would consider going to work for Cal Hooper first, even though that man made her skin crawl each and every time he looked at her. At least she could defend herself against the likes of the Cal Hoopers out there, thanks to all those self-defense classes her brothers had made her take over the years.

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