Bound For Love

Chapter 3

"In two tenths of a mile, turn right on Grand Pass Road."

Jenna Clary gritted her teeth. She'd be lost without her GPS but, geez, did the woman have to have such an annoying voice? How about a nice male voice, maybe even a deep bass one that sent shivers and tingles through your system?

And, speaking of shivers and tingles, it had been quite a while since she'd had any except those self-induced. After the tension of recent weeks, she had kept pretty much to herself outside of work. With Tim Bergmann watching her every move and even - if she was right - finding ways to track her out of the office, she had to be more above reproach than Caesar's wife. That jackass had apparently decided if he couldn't get in her pants, no one else would, either. She had no idea why he apparently was more obsessed with her than any of the other women on staff, but he was like a dog with a bone. And a mad dog at that.

Not only that, the inability to visit Club Magique while he made everything about her his business had left her seriously frustrated and cranky.

She loved working at The Sam Houston Hotel but since the arrival of Tim Bergmann, work had been anything but pleasant. The man was the worst kind of lecher, finding opportunities to touch her inappropriately, making dirty comments to her when no one was around. He'd blatantly warned her he always got what he wanted so she should just stop battling him and give in. Oh, and don't try reporting him. The women who did had trouble finding jobs in the industry after that.

She had no idea how she'd do on a dude ranch. She'd never even been on a horse, despite living in Texas all her life. She'd always lived and worked cities, of which she loved San Antonio the best. The flavor and color of the Hispanic heritage, the eclectic mix of the population, the excitement without being overbearing.

She had come to San Antonio with such high expectations. The fact that she'd gotten a referral to Club Magique, a place so private and far off the grid she'd driven past the address four times before finding it, had only sealed the deal for her when she'd been hired at The Sam. Club Magic. Yes, indeedy, within the walls there was a lot of great magic, a world she'd been introduced to a few years ago and quickly become addicted to.

She was pretty sure there wasn't any place like it out here in the Hill Country. Although, her wicked little mind said, there would be a lot of cowboys with ropes they were sure to be mighty handy with. Not that she'd be able to take advantage of the opportunity. Still, a girl could dream, right?

"In three tenths of a mile make a left turn. Go one half mile and your destination will be on your left."

Thank you, Miss Annoying.

She followed directions and found herself on yet another country road, bordered by the rolling hills that gave the area its name and pastures that seemed to stretch for a hundred miles. On her left a white split-rail fence marked the boundary of the property. As she turned through an archway with the legend Rancho La Riata onto the long driveway she couldn't help but be impressed by the scene. It looked like something out of a movie, with the big Spanish style building at the end of the driveway on the right. Straight ahead were two barns and, past the main building, a row of cabins with the same architecture.

She sat in the car and stared at the scene, horses prancing in a corral, men in jeans and work shirts moving in and out of the barn, a dog chasing its tail and barking at itself. How had she lived all this time less than an hour away from all of this and never bothered to see it? Because she was stupid, a city girl, disdainful of anything not "cosmopolitan." Ha! Look what she got for that. Asshole Tim Bergmann.

This had to work. It just had to. She couldn't really go out there actively seeking a job or the asshole would find out. Just be cool, she told herself. Go find Toni. Get her to introduce you to this Dylan Acosta and put your best foot and face forward.

A rapping on her window startled her, making her jump. She looked out and saw what she could only think of as the quintessential cowboy bending down to look at her. She couldn't accurately judge his height, but he was definitely tall, with jeans and a shirt-shirt clinging to the most exquisite muscles she had ever seen, even in Club Magique. Dirty-blond hair was just visible beneath his Stetson, and two buttons on the shirt were undone, enough to show finely curled hair on his chest that tempted her fingers. His chin wore a delightfully sexy scruff. Grey eyes studied her, even as a smile teased at the corners of lips that she wished were -

Stop it, i***t. You can't go for your interview with a wet spot on your skirt.

Maybe, if she got the job, she could ask Toni about him. See if there was a remote possibility he liked the same type of play that she did. She rolled down her window and pulled out a smile.

"You planning to get out of that car, or do you want me to interview you here in the parking area?"

Oh, s**t!

Wouldn't you just know it?

"Sorry." She wet her lips. "Just taking a breath after the drive."

He opened the car door for her and waved to usher her out. She climbed out as gracefully as she could, barely catching herself as her high heels sank into the gravel. Great. Just great.

But he just laughed. "It only takes one time before people figure out they need different footwear out here." He helped her out of the car. "Dylan Acosta."

Really? This was her new maybe boss? For a brief moment, she felt as if all the breath had been sucked out of her, and every pulse point in her body sent up a demand with a throbbing beat. When she shook her hand, electric current zapped through her and nearly rendered her mute.

Crap, Jenna. Not good at all. No cooking in the company kitchen, remember? That was the surest way to unemployment. If she got the job, she'd need to practice rigid self-discipline.

"Jenna Clary."

"Figured as much."

His hand was warm and calloused, his grip strong. The rich male scent of him - horses and earth and hay - invaded her nostrils and teased her senses. He was not quite as tall as she'd expected, probably just six feet. At five foot eight with her stupid heels, she was still not quite eye level with him.

And what eyes they were. Grey was too simple a word to describe them. They reminded her of the dark slate color of a brewing storm. She could see so many unnamed emotions brewing in there, an indication of a very complex man. At the same time, despite his teasing attitude, she sensed a man who believed in total and complete control.

Of everyone?

Of women?