Harlequin Superromance September 2017 Box Set - Jeannie Watt Mills & Boon Superromance

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you land this job?”

      She quickly jerked her head to one side, giving him a perfect profile. “I’d planned to stay for six months.”

      He let out a disbelieving snort. “You need to alter your plan.”

      “You have no idea how costly it was staying in Seattle while I looked for work. I need those six months.”

      “And you have no idea how long it took me to save up to afford this lease.”

      “It wouldn’t kill you to let me stay.”

      “And it wouldn’t kill you to stand on your own two feet.”

      The corner of her mouth twitched, but that was the only way he knew that the arrow had hit home. “I have always stood on my own two feet.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed. “You know nothing about me,” she said in a low voice.

      Not exactly true.

      “Kind of the way I want things to stay. I like your grandfather and wouldn’t hurt him for the world, but I’m not letting you take advantage of that fact.”

      She reached out and snatched the wooden box from him. He let go a little too soon and she almost lost her balance, so he reached out to take her arm. Her muscles tightened beneath his grip, but he didn’t let go. “I know you feel like you’re the one getting the shaft here, but Taylor, you’re not. This is business. I won’t be taken advantage of.”

      “I don’t understand how my being here results in you losing any kind of advantage.”

      “Imagine if you rented an apartment and the landlord told you that he’d arranged to have someone living in your closet. You could try to ignore them, but they’d still be there, encroaching on the property you’d paid for.”

      “I can’t afford to leave until I get a job.”

      “I know. That was the agreement. You stay until you get a job.”

      “I’ll need at least four weeks after that to get a paycheck and rent a place.”

      “Four weeks is agreeable.” It was a pay period. And giving her that was generous of him.

      She lifted her chin, and he couldn’t tell if she was angry or on the verge of tears. Maybe both. Maybe because she wasn’t getting her own way.

      “I’m not the bad guy here.”

      “Do you really believe that?” she muttered. She gave a small snort and then continued on past him, across the driveway to the door of the bunkhouse. She yanked it open with one hand, then shut it almost too carefully, as if doing her best to keep from slamming it.

      Cole shook his head and followed the walk around his house. He wasn’t the bad guy. He just wanted what he’d bought and paid for—privacy. And damned if he was going to let Taylor’s needs supersede his own.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      TAYLOR’S JAW MUSCLES were aching by the time she closed the bunkhouse door and set down the box. Max peeked out from under the chair where he’d taken sanctuary, then trotted across the floor to jump into the box, crouching so that only his ears showed above the edge.

      “Wait for the pad, okay?” She bent to pick him up, noting that he must have gained at least a pound while in Carolyn’s care, and heaved him against her chest. He pushed his head against the underside of her chin, and she automatically sat so as not to have to keep supporting his weight.

      “Damn it, Max, we’re in trouble again.” Almost, because she wasn’t about to allow herself to get into trouble again. Yes, she would stand on her own feet, and damn Cole Bryan for telling her she wasn’t. He knew nothing about her, except for what he’d gleaned from the internet, and nothing there would bring one to draw the conclusion that she didn’t stand on her own.

      Which meant that he’d drawn the conclusion from other evidence.

      What evidence?

      That she’d assumed he’d fix the freaking hole?

      She didn’t think so.

      He’d come here for privacy, which made her wonder what he had against people. Nothing in her online search had clued her in to his past profession. Karl would know, but she wasn’t going to ask.

      Max started to purr, but it didn’t have its usual calming effect. Taylor closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath. Yes, he’d definitely gained weight. Big cat. Big problems.

      Think positively. You’ll get the job, move out. Never have to see this guy again.

      She’d also have to scrimp and make do, and you know what? She could do that. It made more sense to stay where she was, do battle with tan walls and judgmental farm-mates, but she would survive if she moved out in four weeks. She was lucky to have this place when she needed it.

      Taylor wrapped her arms around her cat, and he pushed his head against her neck as if to say, “Yeah. We’ve got this. We’ll be fine.”

      But where the hell did this guy get off judging her?

      “That’s his problem, not ours,” Taylor murmured. That didn’t mean she had to like it. She didn’t mind being judged as a professional, but to have someone take a dislike to you simply because you existed…

      Not acceptable.

      Not one blinking thing you can do about it.

      “Wine, Max. We need wine.” Taylor eased the cat onto the seat cushion as she got up, and he curled into a giant ball, settling his tail over his nose and watching her through round green eyes. It felt good not to be alone.

      It would feel better when they got their own place. Even though, deep in her gut, Taylor hated giving up and walking away without telling this guy a few home truths.

      * * *

      TAYLOR AWOKE EARLY on Monday morning, wishing that she could go back to sleep. The longer she stayed in bed, the more she tossed around. Finally she got up, leaving Max snuggled deep in the covers. She made coffee, tried to read the news on her phone, then finally, as the first bit of light showed over the horizon, got into her running gear. She didn’t know if her general sense of being unsettled came from the fact that she’d hear about the job this week, or because of her face-off with Cole.

      You need to stand on your own two feet.

      Where did he come off saying stuff like that?

      She had to stop thinking about it or she was going to march across the driveway and demand answers.

      She ran longer than usual, doing her best to exhaust herself and thinking that maybe she could catch up on her sleep later that day. After all, if things went the way she hoped, she wouldn’t have the luxury of midweek naps. She was just approaching the bunkhouse when her phone rang. Quickly, she unzipped her jacket pocket and answered without looking at the number.

      “Miss Evans. Mark Roberts, US West Bank.”

      “Good morning.” Taylor’s heart was beating faster. His voice did not hold even a hint of “I’m sorry, but…”

      “I know this is short notice, but are you available for another meeting tomorrow afternoon?”

      “I’m free all day.”

      “Excellent. If we could meet at three o’clock, that would fit everyone’s schedule.”

      “I’ll be there.”

      “Thank you. See you then.”

      Somehow Taylor kept her feet firmly on the ground—probably because Cole was heading in from the fields and she didn’t want to be caught doing a happy dance. But she did a quick twirl after shutting the door behind her. Max raised his head from the bed, then stretched and went back to sleep.

      Second

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