Hot Westmoreland Nights Read Free Page B

that.
    After glancing at her watch she took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves as she headed toward the kitchen. One good favor deserved another and she was counting on Ramsey Westmoreland seeing things that way.

Two
    R amsey’s jaw tightened as he slowed his truck to a stop. He had been in such a hurry to get out of the woman’s presence that he hadn’t taken time to even ask for her name. All he could think about was how his testosterone level had suddenly kicked into gear and that a sexual hunger, unlike any he’d ever experienced before, had begun sliding up his spine.
    And the woman was his cook? A live-in cook for two weeks? How in the hell was he supposed to handle something like that? He couldn’t imagine sharing space of any kind with her. There was something about her that drew him, made him think of things he hadn’t thought of in a long time, had no business thinking about now. Lustful things.
    Crap!
    He slid the truck into gear to start moving again. What he should do is to turn around, go back and tell her as nicely as he could that she wouldn’t work out. Then he’dcall the employment agency and request that they send out a replacement.
    He checked his watch, wondering how much time it would take to get another cook out to his place. Would the agency be able to find someone else right away? At least in time for lunch? Probably not, which meant he was stuck with the woman at least through today. But what if the agency couldn’t find anyone else by tomorrow? What then?
    He brought the truck to another stop and rubbed his hand down his face. This wasn’t good. The shearers had been at it since six that morning after eating the pitiful breakfast that he had prepared. And he of all people knew his men worked hard and expected a good meal at lunch to keep going until the end of the day. And as their employer it was his job to make sure they got it.
    As he turned his truck toward the area where the shearing plant was located he set his jaw in determination as he thought about the challenges that lay ahead with his new cook. He grabbed his cell phone off the seat beside him and figured that maybe he should call the house and check on her, make sure things were running smoothly, and then he quickly decided against it. Although he hadn’t given the woman time to say much of anything, he had liked the sound that had flowed from her lips with the few words that she’d spoken.
    She looked young, maybe a year or two older than his sister Megan who would be turning twenty-five in a few months. Why would a woman that young want to be a ranch cook? The scowl on his face deepened. Sniffing behind any woman was something he hadn’t done in a long time and was something he wouldn’t be doing now.
     
    A satisfied smile touched Chloe’s face as she glanced around the huge kitchen thinking she had somehow pulled itoff. Granted she’d had to call Mama Francine and the older woman had walked her through the peach cobbler recipe, but once Chloe had begun moving around, getting familiar with her surroundings, she had felt within her element. She had made herself at home. She enjoyed cooking, although she would prefer not doing so on a constant basis for a small army.
    Ramsey Westmoreland had a well-equipped kitchen with beautiful granite countertops and a number of shining stainless steel pots hanging from a rack. There was an industrial-size refrigerator, a large stove and a spacious walk-in pantry filled to capacity and in neat order. She had been able to find everything she had needed without any problems.
    She had glanced through the cook’s log that was kept on the kitchen counter. She saw that on most Mondays the men were fed chicken and dumplings, string beans and bread pudding for lunch. To Chloe’s way of thinking that menu sounded bland and she had a mind to fix something different. She’d decided on lasagna, a tossed salad and Texas toast. For dessert she figured the peach cobbler would do the