She was curvy. That was the first thing I noticed. The jeans she wore hugged hips that swayed in a way that made my attention snap into place whether I wanted it to or not. She had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore a professional-looking blouse under a coat that was far too thin for Montana in February.
I watched her longer than I should have. I told myself I was assessing whether she could handle ranch life, but that was bullshit. I was looking at the curve of her ass as she bent to grab a suitcase from the backseat, and the way her blouse pulled tight across her chest when she straightened.
Fucking hell.
I turned away, jaw clenched. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted a woman here. I might not believe in love or happily-ever-after anymore, but I wasn’t dead. And the last thing I needed was my dick overriding my common sense.
She stood there for a moment, looking at the house like she was steeling herself for something. She looked cold and unprepared but that was my problem. I wasn’t going to coddle her.
Then she squared her shoulders and headed for the house. My steps were slow as I walked to the front door, giving myself time to cool down. As Cade had pointed out, we needed help.
I opened the door just as she was about to knock. She looked up, startled, but she recovered quickly, straightening her spine. Brown eyes met mine—sharp and assessing, not soft or scared.
Big, brown, bedroom eyes that had no business being on a woman who was here to work.
I didn’t say a word. Just let the silence stretch until most people would’ve started babbling to fill it.
Finally, she said, “Mr. King?”
I didn’t smile or step back to let her in.
“I’m Amber Maxwell. Rhett Morrison sent me.”
My gut was telling me this was a mistake. She was a mistake.
I knew immediately I should have sent her away. Called Rhett and demanded a man be hired for the job. But I didn’t. I stepped back without a word. Her shoulder brushed my chest and sent an unwelcome jolt through me that I immediately shoved down.
She didn’t linger next to me. She didn’t look up at me with fluttering lashes or manufactured interest. Which somehow made my reaction to her worse. At least if she’d been obvious about it, I could have dismissed her as just another woman with an agenda.
“The office is this way.” I motioned her ahead of me and couldn’t help but notice she barely came up to my shoulder, which wasn’t surprising considering my size. I stood six foot three and had the mass and muscle that made me cast a big shadow.
When we reached the office, I gestured to the chair across from my desk. “Sit.”
I didn’t offer to take her coat or ask if she wanted coffee or water. I just pointed at the chair and watched her lower herself into it like she was trying not to take up too much space. That made me frown.
She sat, her suitcase standing on the floor beside her. Her posture was perfect—back straight, hands folded in her lap as if she’d done this a hundred times before.
Maybe she had.
I sat behind my desk and studied her. She looked back without flinching. No nervous fidgeting. No trying to fill the silence with small talk. Just calm, patient waiting.
That irritated me more than it should have.
“Rhett says you’re good at what you do,” I said finally.
“I am.” Not false modesty. Just fact.
“You know what you’re walking into?”
“He said your books are a disaster. Three months of discrepancies, possibly theft, definitely incompetence.”
I leaned back in my chair. “How long have you worked with Rhett?”
“Almost five years. I started doing bookkeeping for his firm. He encouraged me to do freelance work and move into forensic accounting after I helped him with a divorce case. Turned out I was good at finding money people tried to hide.”
“This isn’t that type of case.” I shook away the spike of feeling that ran through me at the mention of Rhett helping her.
She nodded. “I know. I now work mostly on corporate or business accounts. Like yours. Embezzlement. Some fraud.” She met my gaze evenly. “If your accountant was stealing, I’ll find it. And I’ll document it well enough that you can press charges if you want to.”
