"I've come about the job." Her words tumbled out as the homestead door was at last opened in response to her pounding fists.

"You are pretty quick off the mark."

Jade's jaw dropped as she stared at the tall man who had spoken. Gorgeous. Absolutely gob-smacking, pee-me-pants gawgeous, she decided.

"You'd better come in." He held the door open and she obediently walked past him into the hallway. Stepping ahead of her, he led the way into a side room and indicated that she should sit in the up-right chair facing a large mahogany desk.

He leaned his hips against the desk and folded his arms across his chest as he studied her.

She waited, pulling at her shirt and crossing, then uncrossing, her legs in her comfortable but old jeans. Her nerves stretched like taut piano strings.

"I'm Blake Jordan, the owner of Stony Creek Station," he said at last. "And you are...?" His voice was deep with a rich American drawl as smooth and slick and slurpy as Texas oil. Phew! Jade resisted the urge to fan at the heat rising in her face.

"My name is Jade Oliver. You advertised for an accountant to keep your books in order and I want that job."

"You want?" He raised one quizzical eyebrow.

She flushed even more but refused to back down. That must have sounded rude but she had to get this job.

"What I mean is I would very much like this position, Mr. Jordan. I am well qualified and ... and this used to be my home. I know it like the back of my hand."

Jade returned his dark, intent gaze. Wow, was he a looker! This guy was supposed to be a rancher from Texas, but he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of a top fashion magazine. Elegant didn't begin to describe him as she studied his long, lean body in a tailored-made charcoal colored suit with a lime green shirt and dark grey tie. Didn't he know that this was a cattle station and you dress down? As in an old shirt, jeans, and comfortable boots, for heaven's sake? Just like she was wearing, for instance?

His jaw flexed with annoyance. "I don't need an accountant."

Hmm, not at all friendly. She didn't blame him. She would be cranky, too, if some unknown person barged in without as much as an appointment and went straight for the jugular.

"That's what you advertised. It was in the local paper this morning."

"I advertised for a book keeper."

"Well, there then. You've got more than you bargained for," Jade said with what she hoped was her most encouraging smile. "Plus, I know how to run the station and I can cook and I've been on umpteen musters and...."

"And?"

"There's no horse that I can't ride," she finished lamely. And I'm messing this up, as usual. Too much mouth and not clever enough to twist things around in my favor. Jeez! She lowered her eyes aware that she was making a fool of herself.

"Unfortunately, I'm only prepared to pay a book keeper's salary."

Jade's head shot up. "That's fine, Mr. Jordan," she said quickly, her heart racing.

Blake gave her another assessing stare that curled from the tip of her ears to the ends of her toes. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.

"And look at what you'll get," Jade continued. He was interested. "A multi-skilled staff member."

He shrugged off his classy suit jacket. More, more, she fantasized, her hands clutching her file.

"Can I see your resume?"

"Oh yes, of course." Jade pushed the file into his outstretched hand. He walked to the other side of the desk and, sitting down, proceeded to study her application. Jade continued to study him. Thirty-something, dark, thick hair--yum--yum. An angular, tanned face with great bone structure.

"So it was your father who actually owned this property?"

And wonderful dark chocolate eyes with magnificent, super-duper long eyelashes. Double yum--yum.

"Err--yes."

"But it's your mother's signature on all of this paper work."

"My step-mother." Jade swiftly corrected him. "My father died four months ago," she added, silently cursing the familiar tightening of her throat at the thought of her father's death. Don't go there, cry baby.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His voice softened and Jade managed a nod of acknowledgement. Please, please don't be sympathetic. It's bad enough coming here, seeing my dad's armchair by the fireplace, the same worn carpet, even the old reading lamp still resting on that cruddy wooden table next to his chair. It's all the same--the same as when I was here a year ago. Jade looked at the door, half expecting her father to walk in.

Blake continued to read her resume. It won't take you long, she almost blurted out. I haven't done much with my life--yet.