Seduction, Westmoreland Style - Brenda Jackson [15]
As McKinnon had suggested, Casey looked around while he brought in her luggage. When he returned moments later and found her standing beside the massive oak bed, his pulse began racing. There was just something about a beautiful woman sanding next to a bed that would do it to a man each and every time.
Casey turned around when she heard him enter the room and could actually feel the sexual tension that surrounded them. That wasn’t good. Angry at his inability to control his emotions like he usually did around a woman, he placed her luggage on the bed. “I’ll leave you to unpack,” he said gruffly. “Since you don’t have to officially start work until tomorrow, you can use today to get settled in.”
“I will, and thanks for bringing in my things.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, glancing at the time on his watch. He then glanced back at her. “And knowing Henrietta she’ll be dropping by sometime today to introduce herself.”
“I’ll look forward to her visit.”
McKinnon wished he could keep his concentration on what Casey was saying rather than her features which appeared more striking than ever. It was her eyes, her mouth, her hair that was styled perfectly for her face.
“Will there be anything else, McKinnon?”
He gave himself a mental shake and frowned at her question. She had caught him staring. “No, there’s nothing else. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you won’t see me at dinner. I’ve been invited out.”
Her announcement only added to his irritation. He tried not to wonder who she would be sharing dinner with. Cal Hooper? Someone she’d met since arriving here? Why the hell did he care and more importantly, why did the thought bother him? “Okay, fine. Enjoy your meal.” He turned to leave.
“McKinnon?”
He turned back around. For some reason he was feeling annoyed, aggravated, impulsive; like hitting something, breaking somebody’s bones, namely whoever she was meeting up with later. “What?” he responded gruffly.
He could tell from her expression that she hadn’t liked the tone of his response. “For some reason I get the impression that you really don’t want me here but that you’re willing to put those feelings aside to utilize my talents,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. “That’s all well and good because frankly, I don’t want to be here either.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and glared back. “Then why are you?”
“To prove a point that all women aren’t incompetent when it comes to horses.”
His frown deepened. “I never said they were.”
“You didn’t have to. You made your thoughts known when you didn’t hire me that first day.”
A part of McKinnon struggled with what she was saying because she was so far from the truth it was pathetic. The reason he hadn’t hired her that first day had had nothing to do with what he thought of her abilities as a horse trainer, but what he’d thought of her abilities as a woman. A very desirable woman. He couldn’t tell her that though.
“You’re wrong, Casey. I have a high degree of respect for women who handle horses. In fact, the greatest horseman I know happens to be a female and she can outride, outrope and probably outshoot any man I know. And I hold her in the highest regard.”
Casey lifted a brow, wondering who this paragon of a woman was. “And who is she?” she asked.
“My mother, Morning Star Long-Lance McKinnon Martin,” he said before turning and leaving the room.
“Now, aren’t you a pretty little thing!”
Casey turned and met the older woman’s smiling face. Her smile was so bright and cheery, she couldn’t do anything but smile back. “Thanks. You must be Henrietta.”
The woman’s laughter echoed through the room. “Yes, that’s me. And you are definitely Corey Westmoreland’s child. You look just like him, just a whole lot prettier.”
“Thank you.”
“McKinnon gave me strict orders not to bother you until you’d gotten settled in. I thought these might pretty up the place for you even more,” she said, handing Casey what looked to be a bouquet of hand-picked fresh flowers.
Casey