THE NEXT MORNING, Mallory was looking at her with more suspicion than ever. She walked over to him, trying not to notice how very attractive he was. She wished she could have met him in her real persona, as she was, so that things would have been on an equal footing from the beginning. As it was, he'd know someday that she'd lied to him about her status. Or perhaps he wouldn't. She could go home, go back to the old life, marry the nice clean-cut young millionaire her father was pressing her to marry and settle down. She could forget the rough rancher who lived in Wyoming and thought she was shady and untrustworthy. If only he could know how much those accusations hurt her.

She looked up at him with wide dark eyes. "Something wrong, boss?"

"You know that we keep a record of all outgoing phone calls here?" he asked solemnly.

Her heart jumped. She'd called Texas. In fact, she'd called her uncle's office.

"Do you?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

"I'd like to know why you were phoning a superior court judge in Texas," he said simply. He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave her a cold smile. "In fact, the same superior court judge who flew up here for our party. Did you discuss something more than canapes when you met him outside and Gelly caught you? Is he your lover? Or do you have a lawsuit in mind and you're looking for advice? I do recall that you threatened to sue Gelly."

Her heart raced while she searched for excuses that wouldn't sound any more alarm bells. She didn't want to give away Tank's friend. If Mallory knew she'd seen the man in the woods, he might call the sheriff. She didn't want to cause the poor man any more trouble than she already had.

"I forgot to add something to the recipe I gave him," she blurted out.

He blinked and stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"The canape recipe," she continued. "I forgot to tell him how long his housekeeper should cook them. He said they were having some big to-do on his family's ranch next month and he wanted the recipe for that."

"So you called him in the middle of the night to tell him?" he asked, incredulous.

She grimaced. "It was when I remembered it," she replied, and shrugged. "I forget stuff."

"Not his phone number, apparently," he mused.

"It was listed on the internet," she muttered, prevaricating because it was for a good cause. "I used a search engine. I knew his name and what he did for a living. The rest was easy."

He let out a long breath. He always seemed to be suspicious of her, and he hated himself for it. She seemed to be an honest, hardworking, kind young woman. But he didn't trust his instincts. He'd been taken in one time too many by a woman who wasn't what she seemed. This one knew her way around the law, despite her protests, and she could pose a real threat to the ranch if she was trying to set him up.

On the other hand, his heart started doing cartwheels every time he looked at her, and that was getting worse by the day. He wanted her. He was having a hard time hiding it, especially from his brothers, who noticed everything.

Gelly was furious that he even talked about Morie, which he did often, involuntarily. He'd mentioned her help in the kitchen, which Mavie had been overjoyed to have. Gelly wouldn't dirty her fingers in a kitchen, and she was already jealous. Too jealous. He'd let the woman get too familiar with him, just by not pushing her away when he still could. Now she was talking about marriage and interceding with him for a friend who wanted to buy some scrubland on the northernmost end of the ranch.

"It's just worthless land," she coaxed. "You can't run cattle on it. This poor man just lost everything he had. He just wants a few acres to live on. Maybe grow a little garden."

"If it's land you can't run cattle on, you sure as hell can't farm it, Gelly," he'd replied. "Besides, it's a family ranch and that would be a family decision. You need to have the man come and talk to us."

She didn't dare do that. The brothers would realize in a heartbeat that he was a businessman, not a down-on-his-luck rancher.

"Oh, he's out of town," she said, thinking quickly.

"Doing what?"

She thought. "Visiting his sick brother."

He shrugged. "No problem. Have him come see us when he gets back. Now, are you hell-bent on going to this movie?" he added, indicating it on the screen of his computer. "I don't like comedies."

"It's funny," she assured him. "At least, that's what I was told. You need a night out. You spend too much time working around here. You should hire a manager. You know, I just met a man who would do nicely. He's college educated and..."

"I run the ranch," he said coldly, looking up at her.

She hesitated. "Well, I was just mentioning it. About the movie," she added, and quickly changed the subject. He was too quick for her. She'd have to be more careful.

Mallory was remembering the conversation while he was staring pointedly at Morie. She flushed under the scrutiny. He could see her heart beating wildly against her shirt. Her breasts were pointed suddenly, too, and he felt his own body reacting to her arousal. He wanted to back her into the wall and kiss her forever.

He pulled himself up short. He had to get her out of here before he did something stupid. "All right," he said. "You can go back to work."

"Thanks." She didn't look at him again. She could barely walk for the trembly feeling that went over her. He'd looked at her with pure hunger. She knew he wanted her, but he didn't trust her. He was remembering her involuntary outburst in the woods. If only she'd kept her mouth shut! He'd never trust her again and she had only herself to blame. But she could win his trust. She knew she could. She just had to try.

HE TOLD GELLY, WITHOUT meaning to, about Morie's phone call to the Texas judge.

"Well, that's not surprising," she commented on the way to the movie.

"Why not?" he shot at her.

"They were all hugged up together when I went out to tell her to get back to work and stop disturbing your guests," she replied, lying through her teeth. She smiled secretively when she saw his expression. "He was very rude to me. He didn't like it that I interrupted them."

"She said she was giving him a canape recipe," he scoffed.

She laughed out loud. "Oh, come on!" She glanced at him with lowered eyelids. "And you actually believed her?"

He didn't like feeling foolish. "I suppose so. At first."

"I'm sure there's something going on there," she replied easily. "They obviously knew each other all along. And he's a judge." She glanced at him again. "What if she's trying to set you up for a lawsuit and he's helping her? Some judges are dishonest, you know."

That was what he'd thought himself. He didn't want to agree with her.

"She looks to me the sort who'd look for an easy way," she added. "She's so poor, she'd probably do anything to get out of debt, to have nice clothes that were currently in fashion, to be seen at the best places, to travel first-class around the world." She was daydreaming, not about her rival's wishes, but her own. Her face set in hard lines. "She's probably sick of having to do things she hates just to get ahead in life, to have the things she deserves and can't get any other way."

He gave her an astonished look.

She noted it, and cleared her throat. "I mean, that sort of woman obviously is hoping to make some rich man fall for her, and she'll do whatever it takes. You're rich. Of course she wants you. It's obvious."

"It is?"

"She stares at you all the time," she muttered. "Like a kid looking at the counter in an ice-cream shop."

"She does?" His heart jumped. He had to force himself not to react. "I hadn't noticed," he added in a droll tone.

"It's disgusting the way she falls all over herself to please you. Let me tell you, she's not like that around me," she said grimly. "She's all claws and teeth. She hates me. The way she talks to me...you should say something to her about it," she added firmly. "It's not right, to have a hired person speak that way to someone of my class."

Of her class. Her father was a retired textile worker, he'd found that out quite accidentally in conversation with a neighbor. Her late mother had been a bank clerk, an honorable profession but not something that gave her carte blanche to high society. Gelly had aspirations. She wanted money. He felt hunted, all of a sudden. She'd been sweet and clinging and flattering at first. Now she was becoming aggressive and demanding, pushing him toward her friends who wanted cheap land and jobs and other things. It was vaguely annoying.

"You're getting a little pushy lately yourself, Gelly," he remarked curtly.