“Jumped the gun?” Jazz echoed. “You flat-out lied. But no,” she relented. “No one with half a brain pays attention to the type of trash she reports on, anyway.”
*
Besides, Jazz wouldnever give the reporter the satisfaction of being proved right. The way she’d dismissed her still stung.
As far as Dan went, however, all of her preconceived notions about him required a revision, because it turned out Sheriff McKillop wasn’t a case of still waters running deep. He was exactly what he seemed on the surface—a handsome, hard-working, somewhat flirty Montana sheriff with a slow smile that made women line up for arrest and should be considered entrapment. As an added attraction, he could poke fun at himself. And while it was impossible for her to feel sorry for someone worth billions, she did feel a slight twinge of sympathy for a man so far out of his depth. Windfalls of the Endeavour’s magnitude should come with a user guide for beginners.
But that wasn’t her problem.
“You just insulted about three quarters of the female population in this country with that remark, but I’ll take it,” he said.
The room was so quiet the walls had to be soundproofed, because no one would ever know that what appeared to her to be half of Custer County was roaming the ranch. The thick carpet was gorgeous. The platform bed was crafted from solid wood, with a full-grain, Italian leather, quilted headboard and side panels. Their combined weight barely made a dent in a sixteen-inch thick, king-sized mattress.
They looked at each other.
“I’ve never been in a billionaire’s bedroom, before,” she said. She’d never expected to end up in one either, even if all they were doing was talking.
Dan made a face. “Me either. It’s my favorite room in the house, though.”
“I’m sure it is.”
He laughed.
“You should get back to your guests.”
“I probably should.”
Neither one of them moved.
She breathed in the soft, clean scent of his skin. Every sense she owned—all six of them—flipped into hyperawareness. Her heart did a fast little flip-flop she hadn’t experienced since she was thirteen and an eighteen-year-old rodeo hand mistook her for sixteen.
He was going to kiss her.
And she really, really wanted him to.
No. No, she did not.
While she doubted if Dan telling some tabloid they were in a relationship would have any impact one way or the other on her long-term career, at the end of the day, he was still her boss, at least for the summer, and she wanted that position at McCall so badly she could taste it. For weeks now, she’d been doing her best to prove she could manage the largest smokejumper base in the country. She believed she’d done an above average job here in Grand, helping to get the new base operational.
So, while kissing him wouldn’t necessarily be the worst mistake she’d ever make, it wouldn’t be her smartest move either. She had her future to think of and no one was more invested in it than her.
“Do it and I’ll file a harassment suit against you,” she said, because if he wanted to play this type of game she could give as good as she got.
His lips hovered a few inches from hers. Blue eyes glittered. Both eyebrows rose. Then he sat back and the mattress jostled a little. “Since when is kissing your girlfriend considered a case for harassment?”
“Since I’m not your girlfriend.”
“No? Tell that to Adriana Gallant.”
He looked so smugly pleased with himself that she had to laugh, even though she was only encouraging him.
“Are you worried the guys at the base will wonder how you got the new washer and dryer?” he asked.
Yes. Absolutely. “Why should I care what they think?”
“Because apparently, your reputation requires mitigation.”
“My reputation does not require mitigation. The damage done to it—by you, I might add—needs mitigating. There’s a big difference.”