Becca stood on her back patio, her phone still bright in her hand. She couldn’t believe how her day had gone. This morning, if someone had told her that she’d be going to dinner with Andrew Whittaker that night, she’d have laughed in their face.

But she was totally going to meet Andrew Whittaker for dinner in twenty minutes. Well, fifteen now, if she could get herself away from the eight pet food bowls on the back patio.

She’d already filled them for the strays she fed and watered. She didn’t see the dogs and cats much, but they ate the food she left out so she knew they were around. Inside, Otto, her yellow Lab, was also scarfing down his dinner. He lived in the house, and she’d raised him from a puppy. All the other animals stopped by when they needed a bite to eat, and she finally turned away from her yard and went inside.

Otto looked up from the bowl where she’d scraped the scrambled egg and hot dog hash she’d made for him. So she cooked meals for her dog. Big deal. She wanted him to be happy and healthy, and it gave her something to do with her time.

The microwave beeped at her, reminding her that she’d put in a frozen burrito before texting Andrew about needing to talk. She opened the door and closed it again so the appliance would stop beeping and hurried into her bedroom.

She couldn’t go to dinner at a steakhouse with the handsomest man in town wearing jeans and a dirty T-shirt. Though he’d already seen her in this outfit, it simply wasn’t good enough for someone like him.

After changing into a pair of black slacks and a white blouse with tiny palm trees on it, she considered her footwear. She didn’t own heels, as she already stood five-foot-nine-inches tall. So a pair of black sandals would have to do.

She tried to tame her hair, but it had been allowed to be in its frizzy element all day, and it didn’t care about steakhouses or billionaire bachelors.

Becca paused, still looking into her own eyes. “You don’t care about steakhouses or billionaire bachelors either,” she told herself, hearing the lie between the last three words.

Of course she did. She had a mortgage, a car payment, and dozens of stray animals to feed. She hadn’t worked in almost two weeks, and here Andrew was, offering her whatever she wanted.

Name your salary, he’d said.

I’ll pay it, he’d said.

But could she really work for Springside Energy?

Her phone screen brightened again, drawing her attention away from her makeup-less face. She swiped it open when she saw Raven’s name. How did things go? You never called.

Becca jammed her thumb on the call button at the top of the text message. She hadn’t called, because she’d been in a bit of a stupor since leaving Springside hours ago.

“Hey,” Raven said. “Are you okay? You’re not in jail, are you?”

Becca tried for a light laugh, but she’d never been great at hiding how she felt. “No, I’m not in jail. Everything went fine.”

“So…you bloodied up Andrew Whittaker and they let you go?”

Becca moved into her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed. She’d be late for the steakhouse, but she needed some advice. “Not only that,” she said. “But he offered me a job.”

“What?” Raven’s shriek almost broke Becca’s eardrum. She quickly explained the situation, then told her best friend about the date that she was supposed to be on in five minutes.

“I mean, it’s not a date,” she said. “It’s a business meeting.” She exhaled, needing to get the terms straight before she left the house. “How can I take a job there?”

“You need a job,” Raven said carefully. “Maybe you can influence what Springside does—or doesn’t do—from the inside. I mean, do you really think that company does anything before Andrew knows about it? Gives it his okay?”

Becca shook her head and ran her hand down Otto’s back as he walked in front of her. “He’s not the CEO. He doesn’t make the decisions.”

“You can bet he’s involved in every one,” Raven said. “He’d have to be. He has to be prepared for all press requests and questions, any media fallout…he definitely has his finger on the pulse of that company.”

Becca ground her teeth together and looked up at the ceiling. “I think you’re probably right.”

“Just see what he says. Tell him you need some huge amount of money. See what he says. Maybe he’ll be like, ‘Nope. See ya.’” Raven laughed, and Becca joined in. But she’d seen Andrew’s face when he’d said Name your salary. I’ll pay it.

And she knew Springside could not only afford whatever she named for a salary, but that he would definitely pay it. The real problem was knowing whether she could handle working for this company she’d opposed for so long.

Influence what Springside does—or doesn’t do—from the inside.

“I better go,” she finally said. “I’m late already.”

“Call me as soon as you get home,” Raven said. “Don’t forget, or I’ll call you in the middle of the night!”

Becca groaned, as she really liked her sleep, and promised she’d call Raven after dinner.

“And there’s another problem,” Becca muttered to herself. “You have a crush on the gorgeous billionaire who runs the company you’ve opposed for a decade.”

Becca sat in her car, unable to go inside the steakhouse. She was twenty minutes late now, and Andrew hadn’t texted yet. Why couldn’t she go inside?

Someone knocked on her window, causing her to yelp and flinch away from the glass. Her heart bobbed in the back of her throat in the few moments it took to identify Andrew’s face. He gestured for her to get out of her car, and she complied.

“I’m starving,” he said. “If you’re not going to come in, can we drive through somewhere?” He didn’t seem upset or bothered that she hadn’t been on time. He wore the same slacks and black polo from earlier that day, and he tucked his hands in his pockets while he waited for her answer.

“I’ll come in,” she finally said, and he grinned. That action on his face should be illegal, as it made her pulse jump around like it was at a dance party.

“Great,” he said. “Because they have the best food here.” He waited for her to step and then he fell in line beside her. “I may or may not have already eaten a plate of the bacon ranch cheddar fries….”

Becca couldn’t help the laugh as it burst from her mouth. “So you must really be starving.”

“I am,” he insisted as he took a double-step in front of her and held the door open to the steakhouse. “They were serving fettucini Alfredo in the cafeteria today, and it didn’t even have chicken.”

“Oh, so you’re the meat and potatoes type, are you?” She paused just inside the door, the noise from the steakhouse meeting her ears.

“About,” he said. “My brother’s wife has a cattle ranch, so we eat a lot of beef.” He shrugged and signaled to the hostess, who took them back immediately even though there were several others obviously waiting. “I like it. Tastes good.”

He led her to a booth in the corner, away from most of the noisier customers. “Thanks, Jo,” he said as if he knew the hostess personally, which he probably did. Everything about Andrew was sheer perfection, right down to how he waited for Becca to slide into the booth first before he sat opposite of her.

“See? Remnants of my fries.” He grinned again, and Becca’s stomach swooped for every other reason other than that she was hungry. “I did order water for you. Figured that was safe.”

She put her hands flat on the menu. “What would you order for me here?”

A light entered Andrew’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Becca really liked it. Her flirtatious question had obviously hit its mark, and she wondered if she should be happy about that, or scared out of her mind.

“You seem like the pasta type of woman,” he said. “But I’d still get you the….” He cocked his head, something he did a lot, and said, “Braised short ribs, with a baked potato, not mashed, and the vegetable medley—no, a side salad. With ranch dressing.”

Becca blinked once before laughing again. “All right, sir. Let’s go with that.”

“Did I get it right?” he asked, hope shining in his face.

“Pretty dang close.” She would’ve made her baked potato “wild,” which meant they’d stuff it with cheese, bacon, and green onions.

The waitress arrived before she could tell him that, and he ordered the ribeye with mashed potatoes for himself and exactly what he’d predicted for her.

“And make my baked potato wild,” she added, giving him a Nice try look.

He chuckled as the waitress moved away, lifted his water to his lips, and as he set his glass down said, “Okay. So tell me what we need to talk about.”

So he wasn’t going to waste any of the meal on small talk. Becca liked that, while at the same time, she didn’t.

“I’m still thinking about the job,” she said.

He nodded, his attention fully on her. She could tell he was smart just from the edge in his eyes. But she’d read his writing, so she already knew that. Seen his pictures in papers, magazines, and the Internet.

“I want benefits too,” she said. “If the job is really indefinite.”

“It is,” he confirmed as if she’d asked. “Springside is only growing, and I can’t keep up by myself anymore. How my father did this without a public relations manager, I’ll never know.”

“Your father—” Becca cut herself off, as she didn’t need to speak ill of the dead. And besides, this was Andrew’s father. She couldn’t say anything cruel about him.

Andrew had heard something in those two words though, because he turned stony.

“Your father did the best he could,” Becca amended. “But he wasn’t great with the community or the press. Not the way you are.”

Andrew softened a little, but not nearly to as pliable as he’d been a few seconds ago. “I’ve done the best I could.” He sighed and glanced out of the booth, toward the rest of the restaurant. “It’s never enough, though, I’ll tell you that.” He gave her a weary smile that opened the door to what his life might really be like. And it wasn’t all designer suits and perfectly styled hair.

“Which is why I need you,” he said.

Becca noted that he didn’t say “someone like you.” She tried not to let the words warm her, but they did anyway, all the way from her toes to her nose.

“Okay,” she said. “So benefits. I need to know a little bit more about the hours.”

“Oh, the hours are insane,” he said. “The morning isn’t too bad. Come in at nine or ten or whenever. But once you’re there, I swear the building finds things for you to do.”

“Is that why you’re wearing the same clothes from earlier?”

“I had just gotten home when you texted. Didn’t even go inside.” He took another drink, something else behind those words. Becca couldn’t even imagine what.

“It’s almost eight-thirty now.” And she’d kept him waiting.

“Yep.” He met her eyes. “The hours are insane. And we’ll be traveling for the entire month of October. I don’t know what your family situation is like, or if you have pets or children or whatever.”

Becca thought his face colored slightly, but she couldn’t be sure in this dim light.

He cleared his throat. “And you still need to name the salary.”

“I don’t have children,” she said. “Not married. No boyfriend in town. Or family for that matter.” Saying it out loud sounded pathetic. What did she have in her life?

“I do have a giant yellow Lab. I’ll have to figure something out for him.”

Andrew nodded. “Any boyfriends out of town?”

Becca blinked rapidly, realizing she’d said No boyfriends in town like she might have one somewhere else. The very idea was laughable. But Andrew simply stared straight at her, waiting, expectant. He showed zero emotion on his face, and Becca didn’t like that she couldn’t get a read on him.

She especially didn’t like the storm swirling through her. “No,” she said, her voice one click down on the emotional scale. “No boyfriends out of town either.”

“Ah.” Andrew nodded again.

“What about you? Your girlfriend is okay with you hiring a woman and traveling with her for a month?” Two could play his game, and Becca felt sure she would’ve known had Andrew Whittaker started dating someone. The gossip mill in Coral Canyon was alive and well, after all.

“Oh, all the women in my life are happy I’ll be gone,” he said with that sexy grin. “Celia won’t have to make dinner, and Bree can doctor up the coffee how she likes.”

“Celia and Bree?”

“Our chef and event planner at Whiskey Mountain Lodge.” Andrew gave her a smile, seemingly at complete ease across the booth.

“Do you live at the lodge?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Becca wasn’t sure what to do with the information. “I heard they were renting it out again. Parties, horseback riding, corporate events, or just to stay the night.”

“All true,” he said, and nothing more.

“And you own it.”

“Well, my brother bought it. But yes, the Whittaker’s own it.”

“What do you do there?”

“I take care of all the horses.”

Of course he did, as if he knew a cowboy was a siren’s call to Becca’s heart and soul. Dear God, she prayed. How am I to resist him now? Should I even be resisting him?

The waitress arrived with their food, and Andrew lit up like a little boy on Christmas morning.

A feeling of peace flowed over Becca, and all of her uncertainties disappeared. She liked Andrew, and accepting this job meant she could spend a lot of time with him. No, she didn’t particularly like Springside Energy or what they did, but she could enact change from the inside.

She picked up her phone while he picked up his fork. She typed out a number and sent it to him. Three feet away, his device buzzed and he looked at it. “You texted me?” He glanced at her and swiped his phone open.

“You can’t see your texts without opening them?”

“I like it that way,” he said. “I just need to know who’s texting. I generally already know what they’re going to say.”

She made a grab for his phone before he could tap on her message. He dropped it in surprise, his eyes glinting with amusement as he scrambled to pick up his phone. “What are you doing?”

“If you generally know what people are going to say, what did I say?”

He studied her for a moment, something hot and pulsing passing between them. He had to feel that, but he gave no indication that he could.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said. “You’re sitting right there. So…maybe that you want the job? Maybe you don’t want to say it out loud?”

“Oh, I want the job,” she said, feeling bolder and braver than she had in years. Ever since Jarom had told her it was too difficult to be with someone as smart and intimidating as she was. That remark had cut her legs out from under her, and she’d spent a while wondering what was wrong with being smart.

“So then that text is what you want me to pay you.” He nodded toward the phone, a smugness in the set of his mouth.

She found him…annoying. Handing the phone back, she said, “You think you’re something, don’t you, Mister Whittaker?”

He opened his phone, tapped, and read her text while she dressed her salad. His laughter made her look up.

“It’s a deal, Miss Collings. I’ll get the paperwork ready by tomorrow afternoon.”

Becca nodded and tucked into her food, her thoughts tumbling at what she’d just done. She had three weeks to figure out what to do with Otto, not to mention all the strays. Oh, but she wasn’t going to mention any of them to Andrew. He, as her employer, didn’t need to know about her obsession with making sure the abandoned animals of Coral Canyon got fed. The last thing she needed was for him to label her a crazy cat lady, whether it was true or not.

“Okay,” he said. “With the business out of the way, tell me what you like to do for fun.” He cut his steak into precise pieces and swooped up a bite of mashed potato with it.

Becca didn’t know how to answer. With the business done, was this a date? Her heart crashed against her ribs, desperately hoping so.

“Why does it matter?” she asked.

“Because we have a lot of free time while we drive from place to place,” he said. “Might as well know how to fill it.”

That didn’t really give her an answer as to whether this was a date or not, but at least she’d dressed up. “I like reading,” she said, thinking that a perfectly safe answer.