“Melissa?” Someone slid into the chair next to her, and Melissa looked over to see Stephanie set a white stonewear cup on the table.

At two in the afternoon, the cookhouse had grown quiet. Faint voices could be heard from the pass-through to the kitchen. Coffee, biscuits and oatmeal cookies were still available on the sideboard in case anyone needed a snack. And a helper was setting the three empty tables for dinner.

“Hello,” Melissa greeted Stephanie politely.

The younger woman’s auburn hair was pulled back in her signature ponytail. She’d removed her riding helmet, but still wore the white blouse, tight jodhpurs and high boots that were the uniform of a show jumper.

Stephanie grinned happily. There was a freshness about her, Melissa thought. Maybe it was the freckles or maybe it was the complete lack of cosmetics. Or it could have been the perky upturned nose. But Stephanie looked young, carefree, almost mischievous.

“I saw Jared helping you with Tango,” she began, her expression friendly and open as she turned the cup handle to face the right direction.

Melissa nodded, even while her stomach tightened with guilt. She couldn’t help but like Stephanie, and she was sorry the woman was caught up in her charade.

“It was very nice of him,” Melissa acknowledged. Then she paused, choosing her words carefully. “My horse skills are…” She let out a sigh, feeling like a heel for lying to Stephanie in the first place. “I guess, I, uh, exaggerated my skill level when I first talked to you.” She cringed, waiting for the reaction.

But to her surprise, Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.”

Melissa gazed at her. “But-”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to shovel manure.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah.” Stephanie lifted the stonewear mug and took a sip of the steaming coffee. “I imagine people exaggerate on their résumés all the time.”

“I guess they do,” Melissa agreed, relieved-yet again-that she wasn’t about to get fired.

“So what do you think of him?”

“Tango?” Was Stephanie going to try to get her to ride the horse?

“No, Jared.”

“Oh.” Melissa caught the speculative expression in Stephanie’s eyes. Oh.

Oh, no.

This could not be good.

“He seems, well, nice enough,” Melissa offered carefully. Truth was, she thought Jared was demanding and sarcastic. Okay, in an intriguing, compelling, sexy kind of way.

Stephanie nodded cheerily. “He’s a great guy. Lots of women seem attracted to him. I mean, it’s hard for me to tell, being his sister, but I imagine he’s pretty hot.”

Melissa turned her attention back to her soup. “He’s a very attractive man.”

“You should have seen the woman he dated last weekend. They had their picture in the paper in Chicago. She was a knockout. A lawyer.”

Melissa spooned up a bit of soup. She was not going to be jealous of some smart knockout lawyer in Chicago. Who Jared dated was absolutely none of her business.

“I told him he should see her again. But he’s not interested.” Stephanie gave a shrug. “So, really, he’s not committed in any way, shape or form.”

Melissa fought a smile. Again, there was an endearing quality to Stephanie. She was probably only four or five years younger than Melissa, but she seemed so innocent and untarnished. Maybe it was from living in the protected world of rural Montana.

“Honestly, Stephanie, I think I frustrate your brother.”

Stephanie shook her head. “We can change that.”

“I’m only here for a few days, remember?” The last thing Melissa needed was for Stephanie to give Jared a reason to avoid her. And she sensed that was exactly what would happen if he guessed his sister’s intentions.

“He thinks you’re pretty.”

The assertion took Melissa by surprise.

“He told me,” Stephanie continued. “The first time he saw you.”

“This is a bad idea, Stephanie. Jared and I are from completely different worlds.” And she was spying on him. And he was going to despise her in about three weeks when the article hit the newsstands.

“So were my parents.”

“Stephanie, really.”

“My dad was a rancher, and my mom grew up in Boston.”

Melissa knew this was exactly the point where she should press Stephanie for some information. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“My mom was gorgeous and classy. Blonde, like you.” Stephanie sighed. “I wish I looked more like her.”

“But you’re beautiful,” Melissa immediately put in, meaning it completely.

Stephanie wrinkled her little nose. “I have freckles and red hair. And, you know, I haven’t bought myself a dress in three years.”

“Well, that’s easy to fix.”

“I bet you own a lot of beautiful dresses.” The speculative look was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

“Very few,” said Melissa. She pinned Stephanie with an earnest expression. “Promise me you won’t do this, Stephanie.”

Stephanie reached out to grasp Melissa’s forearm, taking a careful look around the room. “I can be very discreet.”

Given the woman’s exaggerated spy-versus-spy room check, Melissa sincerely doubted that.

“I’ll chat you up a bit,” Stephanie continued. “You are gorgeous, and I can-”

“Jared is not, I repeat, not interested in me. You’ll only embarrass us both if you try to match us up.”

Stephanie took another sip of her coffee, a dreamy faraway expression in her eyes. “I promise, Melissa. I won’t do a single thing to embarrass you.”

Five

Melissa had waited all morning for a chance to privately warn Jared about Stephanie’s matchmaking plans. She could hardly walk up to the front door of Stephanie’s house and knock. And Jared, as far as she could tell, hadn’t come out of the house.

Standing over a tub of water in the tack room, she had a decent view of the front porch. Her hands were red and slippery from the glycerin soap, but at least the job was straightforward: wash the tack, dry the tack, polish the tack. She’d worked her way through a decent-size pile of leather.

When lunchtime came along without a sign of Jared, she started to worry. If Stephanie was already matchmaking, he was probably plotting his escape from the equestrian center. If she didn’t do something soon, there was every possibility that he’d leave before she got anything more for her story.

She had to find a way to get hold of him.

She clicked through the possibilities in her brain until finally she came up with a viable plan. If she could somehow get her hands on his cell number, she could talk to him without Stephanie knowing.

She pulled her hands from the warm water, shook them off and dried them on a towel. Her cell phone was in her taupe canvas tote bag, and it didn’t take her long to get directory assistance and the Chicago number for Ryder International. The receptionist put her through to Jared’s assistant.

“Jared Ryder’s office,” said a friendly female voice.

“I need to speak to Jared Ryder,” Melissa opened, hoping the office would give her his cell phone number.

“I’m afraid Mr. Ryder is not in the office today.” The voice remained friendly and professional. “Can I help you with something?”

“Do you happen to have his cell phone number?” Melissa mentally crossed her fingers that the woman would be willing to give it out.

“I’m afraid I can’t provide that information. Is there someone else who can-”

“Would you be able to get a message to him?” Melissa moved to plan B.

Some of the patience leached out of the woman’s voice. “Can I get your name, please?”

“So you can get him a message?” Melissa’s hope rose.

“He may not get it until next week.”

“I need him to get it today. Right away if possible.”

“If I could just have your name.”

“It’s Melissa. Melissa Webster.” She used the alias she’d used on her résumé.

“And what is the message regarding?”

Good question. Melissa racked her brain. She sure couldn’t say she was a reporter, but if the subject didn’t seem important, the secretary might not send it to Jared right away. “Saxena Electronics,” she offered impulsively.

“You’re from Saxena?” The skepticism was clear.

Melissa could only assume most Saxena employees had East Indian accents. “I’m affiliated with them,” she lied. “The message is that Melissa Webster needs to talk about Saxena right away. In private,” she added, ending with her cell phone number.

“I’m not sure-”

“Please believe me that it’s important,” Melissa put in quickly.

The woman hesitated on the other end of the line.

“There’s no risk,” Melissa pointed out. “If it’s not important, he’ll just ignore it, right?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Maybe a quick text or an e-mail?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The voice had turned stony.

It was definitely time to back off. “Thank you,” said Melissa with as much gratitude as she could muster. “I really do appreciate this.”

The professionalism and the formality came back. “Thank you for calling Ryder International.”

“Thanks for your help,” Melissa offered once more before hanging up.

Then she plunked her phone back in her bag, readjusted the clip that was holding her hair back and pulled her damp tank top away from her chest. She hated to go to lunch looking like this, but it was a long walk back to her cottage, and there was no way she could skip the meal.

As the days went by, her respect for cowboys and stable hands had risen. They worked extremely hard. A salad or a protein shake might cut it in an office, but out here, calories were essential.

She dried the last of the washed tack, laying it out on the bench to be polished later. Then she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder and headed for the cookhouse while she waited to see if Jared would call.