‘You’re wrong, it will!’
‘I don’t believe it, Morgan. If you’re honest, neither do you.’
‘But I do! And I mean to stay.’
‘I think you should leave tomorrow.’
‘Are you firing me?’ Her voice shook.
Jason was quiet for a few seconds, and Morgan saw a little muscle move in his hard jaw. ‘I don’t have grounds to fire you,’ he said at last, ‘but I’m asking you to go.’
Morgan looked at him unhappily. ‘I made a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘That’s all it was. People have to learn.’
‘There will be other mistakes.’
‘Not if I can help it.’
‘I don’t see any point in waiting, Morgan.’
Suddenly Morgan was very angry. If she didn’t fight Jason he would destroy her dream.
‘I won’t let you do this to me!’ Her voice throbbed with passion. ‘I deserve a chance.’
‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re riot wanted at this ranch?’
The words were like a hard blow in the stomach, but Morgan managed to hide her shock. Her chin lifted. ‘Not a thing,’ she lied.
She braced herself for Jason’s next verbal assault but, oddly, he was silent. For a few seconds the only sounds in the cookhouse came from the sizzling of the meat and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall.
And then Jason’s expression changed. Morgan saw his eyes going over her, and she drew in her breath. At twenty-two she was used to men. She was often photographed with male models, sometimes just posing with them, often with an arm slung around her shoulders and now and then a hint at something more amorous. Many a man had wanted to make love to her, inside as well as outside the confines of a studio, but she had never been interested. She had learned how to decline, politely but firmly, and still remain friends.
For some reason her reaction to this man was different. Morgan had never felt so disturbed and uncertain. Jason Delaney was undressing her with his eyes and she felt stripped and naked, acutely aware of the sparks which seemed to fill the air between them and conscious of his overwhelming maleness and of her own femininity.
‘It really means nothing to you that you’re not wanted?’ he asked softly.
‘I can only tell you that I intend to do my best.’ Her voice was not quite steady.
In the dark eyes there was a flash of steel and once more that tic in his jaw. ‘It won’t be easy,’ he warned.
‘Maybe not.’ The look she shot him was deliberately provocative. ‘But I asked you earlier not to frighten me. Don’t you understand that your scare tactics have no effect on me?’
After a long moment Jason smiled down at her. ‘I’m beginning to understand,’ he said.
It was a smile which made the anger leave Morgan. She looked at his dark eyes, his hard cheekbones and his sensuous lips—wondering inconsequentially how they would feel against hers—and knew that she had never met anyone as attractive as Jason. Her heart was beating so hard now that she made herself take a quick step away from him lest he heard it.
‘Then you will let me have my chance?’
‘I’ll be watching you every moment.’ Behind the smile lay a threat.
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said again.
‘Let’s both hope it will be good enough.’
The steak was sizzling on the grill and the chili simmering in a huge pot when the cowboys filtered back into the cookhouse. They sat down at the long table and proceeded to eat, amazing Morgan with the extent of their appetites and the size of the portions they piled on their plates. She had not known that men could eat so much.
‘They’re cowboys, not male models watching their figures.’ Laughter glinted in Jason’s eyes, as if he had guessed Morgan’s thoughts.
She was awed. ‘I had no idea.’
The glint intensified. ‘You should know, Morgan, that Brent usually eats in the cookhouse with the men.’
A little taken aback at the thought of sitting down at the long table and partaking of the gargantuan meal, Morgan hastily shook her head. ‘Tomorrow perhaps. I’m not hungry now.’
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was going to tell you to eat with me.’
Morgan’s head jerked. ‘With you, Mr Delaney?’
His eyes sparkled at her expression. ‘Since it seems we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while, don’t you think you should start calling me Jason?’
Jason... It was a nice name. Strong. For some reason Morgan looked forward to saying it when she was alone—when she could enjoy the sound of it on her tongue.
‘Well, Morgan?’ he asked.
‘You don’t eat with the cowboys?’ The invitation—if it could be called that—had caught her completely off guard, and she had to say something.
‘Brent usually cooks for me at the house.’
‘In that case, I will too.’
‘Brent cooked enough for a week before he left.’ On a slightly softer note Jason added, ‘You’ve been driving all day. You’re probably exhausted.’
Jason Delaney showing a little human sympathy and friendliness? Miracles would never cease!
‘Not too tired to do my job,’ Morgan said spiritedly. ‘And in case you’re trying to trick me, Jason, forget it—I’m not about to fail another test.’
The tall rancher grinned, a daredevil grin that did alarming things to Morgan’s senses. ‘Neither a trick nor a test. I have enough for two so you might as well share it.’
With difficulty Morgan resisted the temptation to accept. ‘I told you,’ she managed, ‘I’m not hungry.’
Jason laughed, the sound low and dangerous. ‘As you like.’ He made no further effort to persuade her.
When Morgan emerged from the cookhouse some time later there was no sign of Jason. Although it was still hot outside, the western sky was now tinged with pink and long shadows lay over the brushlands. On the hardbaked ground beyond the bunkhouse another ball-game was in progress. Morgan walked in the opposite direction: she had no desire for another unpleasant run-in with Hank.
She was frowning as she looked at the shadows all around her. For the first time since she had arrived at Six-Gate Corral she was wondering where she would spend the night. If her employer had been anyone but Jason Delaney, Morgan would have had no hesitation in asking him what to do, but Jason unnerved her to such an extent that she was reluctant to ask him the question.
Still, she had to sleep somewhere. The ranch-house was obviously off limits—she could not sleep in the same house as Jason—and if there was another suitable building she couldn’t see it. Her car—of course! The thought came to her as she remembered that her suitcase was still in the boot.
But after just a few minutes in the car Morgan knew that she couldn’t spend the night there. After standing in the sun for hours, the car was a hell-hole, hot as a furnace and airless—impossible to breathe in, let alone sleep.
Which left only one place. Morgan recoiled at the very thought of the bunkhouse. How on earth could she bear to sleep there? Sharing quarters with the ranchhands—putting up with the ribaldries of a man like Hank. No, the bunkhouse was definitely out of the question!
There was nothing for it, after all, but to swallow her pride