“Actually, I’d hoped that other men here in the logging camp would want wives also,” Amanda said.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Meg said.
“Darn tootin’,” Shady said.
“I didn’t know Mr. Kruger had a rule about not allowing women here. It seems I’ve brought my catalog of brides all the way up here for nothing.” Amanda gestured toward her satchel Shady had placed beside the stone fireplace.
“A catalog?” Shady asked. “Like a mail-order book? With pictures? Of women wanting to get hitched?”
Amanda nodded. “Dozens, actually. I offer brides of varying size, shape, hair color. All are educated and have excellent homemaking skills. Many are proficient in music and art, all sorts of things.”
Shady nodded toward her satchel. “And you got all them women in that book of yourn?”
“And the women are willing to come up here to the mountain to live?” Meg asked.
“Willing and anxious,” Amanda said. “I was disappointed, of course, when Mr. Kruger said no one here was interested in a wife.”
“Jason said that?” Meg asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Several times—and not very pleasantly, I might add.”
“Humph.” Shady snorted and hitched up his trousers.
“There’s nothing left for me to do here,” Amanda said. “I’d like to ask you to take me back down the mountain in the morning, Shady.”
“You’re leaving?” Meg asked. “So soon?”
“I’ve no reason to stay.”
“Maybe if you give Jason time to think it over he’ll change his mind,” Meg said.
Amanda shook her head. “He was adamant about not allowing other women up here, even without knowing I owned the matrimonial service. Can you imagine his reaction if he knew I wanted to bring a large number of brides to his logging camp?”
Jason stood on the porch outside his office soaking up the silence and the peace and solitude of the darkness. During the day the mountain roared with the buzzing of saws in the mill, the horses and oxen straining against their heavy loads, axes splitting wood, and the shouts of his men felling the timber.
At night it was quiet. Peaceful. Jason’s mind could rest and his body could unwind. He treasured this time.
Except that tonight his thoughts hummed like a band saw and his body was wound tight enough to explode.
It was that woman’s fault. That Miss Amanda Pierce. Sashaying into his office with her bustle bobbing and her skirts swaying. Batting her eyelashes at him. Poking her lip out in a pout.
Well, damn if she’d come prancing onto his mountain and change the way he did things. Jason had a business to run. A business he’d fought hard to get started, and fought even harder to keep going. Big things were on the horizon. He didn’t need any distractions.
And Amanda Pierce was definitely a distraction.
Jason leaned his shoulder against the support column and gazed down the road toward town. He could still smell the scent of her lingering in the air. Sweet, delicate. Womanly.
He let his gaze wander to the McGee house. Shady Harper had gone inside a few minutes ago carrying her baggage. The whole house probably smelled like her by now.
The front door opened just then and Shady walked outside. A woman stepped into the doorway, outlined by the lantern light inside. Jason straightened and craned his neck. Was it her? Was it Amanda?
“Damn.”
Jason turned away mumbling a curse into the darkness. Women were a distraction, all right, and he’d just proved it, lurking in the dark, hoping to catch a peek of one. Even if it had been a long time since he’d peeked at a woman—or done anything more pleasurable with one.
He swung around again watching Shady on the porch talking to the woman in the doorway. It was Amanda. He was sure of it now.
Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe he had been up on this mountain too long.
Amanda was a good-looking woman. All the right curves in all the right places. Done up proper, begging to be undone. A tight little package waiting to be opened.
He’d like to unravel that package, and take his time doing it. Slow, easy, until he’d—
Jason snorted another curse and pushed himself off the porch, angry at his thoughts and his body’s reaction to them.
What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t need or want a woman in his life. Especially this one, full of vinegar and sass, calling him names and insulting him to his face, right in his own office. Miss Amanda Pierce would be gone in the morning, and good riddance to her.
Jason stalked down the road away from his office. He was going home. He’d get a good night’s sleep and set his mind back on work. He was expecting a package, and if Shady brought it up from Beaumont tomorrow he had to be ready to deal with it. He needed to keep his mind on business.
But a fragrance tickled Jason’s nose, stopping him in his track. He turned, his gaze drawn once again to the McGee house just as Amanda stepped back inside. Jason stood there a moment longer staring at the closed door, sniffing the air for the scent of her.
“Hellfire….”
Jason stalked away.
The gray of dawn seeped into the house as Amanda opened her eyes to the little room she’d slept in. She’d fallen asleep as soon as her head had hit the feather pillow last night, then awakened this morning to the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen—and the certain knowledge that she wasn’t in her own bed at home in San Francisco.
Amanda lay on the smooth cotton sheets for a few minutes, thinking. Here she was in a strange bed, a strange house, a strange place. The well-ordered life she’d left behind in San Francisco over a week ago seemed very dear to her right now.
Her father had been a successful merchant, and had left Amanda and her mother financially comfortable upon his death. But her mother wasn’t very wise in business and it hadn’t taken long before most of the money was gone.
Her mother was gone now, too. Amanda had used what money was left to start her Becoming Brides Matrimonial Service. The business filled several of the empty spots in her life.
Amanda pushed back the coverlet and sat up. The air in the little house was cool. She rose and dressed quickly.
Meg stood at the cookstove and Todd, her son, sat at the table. Amanda had seen the boy last night when Meg had roused him out of his bed and given it to Amanda. Todd was eight years old with blond hair, like his mother. His looks came from his father, Amanda guessed. His father who was…gone.
“Good morning,” Meg said, and smiled. “You’re just in time.”
“Can I help?” Amanda asked.
“No, thanks, all done.” Meg turned a pan of scrambled eggs into a bowl and set it on the table alongside a stack of biscuits. “Sit down.”
Todd dug in before Amanda and Meg got seated and finished before they got started.
“Can I go outside, Mama?” Todd asked.
“Yes, but don’t go far,” Meg said. “And don’t go near the mill.”
Todd rolled his eyes as if he’d heard those instructions before and darted out the front door. Amanda watched him go, watched the love in Meg’s gaze follow the boy outside.
“He’s a sweet child,” Amanda said.
Meg’s smile faded. “It’s been