The Last Lone Wolf Read online

  It was a hell of a thing, Jericho told himself, when a man was reduced to sneaking around his own damn house.

  He’d never been a coward. Men he’d served with in the Corps would be willing to swear that there wasn’t a damn thing in the universe that scared Jericho King. But here he was, avoiding one small, curvy woman as if she were Typhoid Mary and he was the last healthy man on the planet.

  She’d already settled herself in as if she’d been on the mountain for years. Her idiot dog was scrambling up and down the stairs, those tiny claws tapping against the wood floor until it sounded like a swarm of crickets had been set loose in the house.

  Even the air was different, he thought. The faint trace of her flowery scent seemed to hang on the air, flavoring every breath he drew.

  Jericho was on edge and he didn’t like it. Hell, he’d arranged his life so that he dealt only with the people he wanted around him. After years of military living, he liked his privacy. Liked the fact that his clients came and went, hardly making an impact on his world at all. His employees knew when to back off and leave him alone, and when he needed a woman, he went out and found one.

  Nothing permanent. Nothing lasting. Just a few good nights with great sex and some laughs. That was the way he wanted it. The way he needed it.

  Yet now, everything had changed. In the space of a few hours, Daisy Saxon was turning his world on its head. And he only had himself to blame. He could have turned her out on her pretty little ass. Hell, should have.

  But truthfully, he hadn’t been able to. The weight of what he owed her and her brother was still too heavy around his neck. Whispers of guilt, regret, slipped through his mind. If she knew the truth, she’d never have come here. So the only option for him was to agree to let her take the survival test on the mountain. Then she’d fail and leave and it wouldn’t be his doing.

  He went down the back stairs figuring to grab something to eat so he could avoid the whole sitting-down-to-dinner situation. There was plenty of work for him to do. Paperwork piled up because he tended to avoid it whenever possible. So he’d lock himself into his study with a sandwich and avoid talking to Daisy until tomorrow.

  He slapped one hand to the door, pushed it open and stopped dead. Damn it.

  “Hi,” she called out from her spot by the stove.

  She was wearing a pair of tight jeans, a yellow, long-sleeved shirt and an apron that was so large for her the strings were tied three times around her narrow waist. Not only was she here and cooking, whatever she had going smelled great.

  “What are you doing here?” He stepped into the room and glanced around. “Where’s Kevin?”

  “Oh, I told him I’d fix dinner tonight. He’s going into town to see his girlfriend.”

  Jericho scowled at that. Not only did she take over his damn house, she started giving his employees the night off.

  “You know, I didn’t even realize you had a town close by. Imagine that, I got lost for what felt like hours and never saw the town?” She shook her head and laughed a little. “Must make it easier than driving all the way down the mountain when you need supplies.”

  He just stared at her. The woman talked more than anyone he’d ever known.

  “It’s not a problem that Kevin left for the night, is it?” she asked, watching him warily. “I only thought that since I’m going to be taking over his job soon—”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “That hasn’t been decided yet.”

  “Oh, I know, but I believe in positive thinking.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She smiled again. “Yes, I can imagine what you think of it, but affirmations can really make a difference in your life. Think it, be it, you know.”

  “What?”

  She laughed again and the rich, throaty sound rolled through the room and settled over him like a blessing.

  “I just mean, you put out into the universe what you want to happen and it generally will.”

  “The universe.”

  “Sure. If all you do is think negative thoughts, then it’s hardly surprising when you only experience negativity, right? So, same goes with the good stuff. Imagine you’re happy doing exactly what you want to do and the universe will find a way to provide you with that dream.”

  He shook his head. “So the universe is going to help you through the mountain tests?”

  “You bet!” She stirred the contents of a stainless steel pot on the stove. Instantly, even more unbelievably tantalizing aromas drifted into the air. “I’m envisioning myself succeeding and gracefully accepting your congratulations.”

  He smiled in spite of everything. She seemed so damn sure of herself. How were you supposed to argue with a woman who thought she could arrange her life simply by thinking?

  The scent of whatever she was cooking reached him again and Jericho’s stomach rumbled in appreciation, but he wasn’t about to be seduced by a pot of soup. “You go ahead and keep imagining. I’ve got actual work to do. I’m just going to make a sandwich, then I’ll be gone.”

  “Sandwich?” she said, and looked horrified at the notion. “That’s not a meal for a man like you. I think we can do way better than that. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you a snack that will hold you over until dinner.”

  He thought about refusing. He really didn’t want to spend any more time around her than he absolutely had to. Especially if she was going to be spouting all of her New Age bull. But if he walked out now, she’d know he was avoiding her and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Instead, he walked to the high bar table at the back side of the cooking island and took one of the tall seats. He watched her as she pulled an oven door open and reached in with a hot pad to pull out a cookie sheet dotted with what looked like golden-brown half pies.

  “This is an amazing kitchen,” she was saying. “This warming drawer for instance. Keeps food hot but doesn’t continue to cook them. And oh, my. The refrigerator shelf under the island—” She shook her head, patted her heart and sighed. “Keeps all of your vegetables right next to the sink and the cutting boards.” She laughed a little and did a more dramatic sigh. “And I’m not sure, but I think I had an orgasm when I saw the Sub-Zero fridge.” She caught herself, winced a little and gave him a sheepish smile. “Did I just say that out loud?”

  “You did,” he told her and wished he hadn’t heard her. She said the word orgasm and his body went on red alert, instantly prepared to show her just what an orgasm should really feel like. At the very least, she wouldn’t have had to wonder if she’d had one or not.

  “Sorry,” she said and walked to a cupboard for a plate. “I get a little emotional about great kitchens, and let me tell you, this one’s a beauty!”

  “Uh-huh.” He didn’t care. Until he’d hired Kevin to cook for them, the most the kitchen had seen was a lot of microwave action from him and Sam and the others who lived here. As long as the kitchen held a fridge for food and beer and provided a sink and ready fire, that was all he needed to know. Jericho remembered the kitchen remodel he’d done to the place years ago, but he’d simply turned the designer loose and hadn’t asked any questions.

  Their clients were served simple food and plenty of it. No one had ever complained. Now though, he gave it a quick look, following her pleased gaze. He took in whitewashed plank walls, dark cedar cabinets, dark green granite counters and a gleaming wood floor. There was an industrial-size cooking range, double ovens, a couple of microwaves and a refrigerator big enough to hold supplies for a battalion. That wasn’t even counting the two big freezers situated in the butler’s pantry.

  Overhead lights banished shadows, and through the wide windows on every wall, night was creeping its way across the mountain. Inside, though, the oversize room was feeling a little cramped at the moment.

  She was standing just opposite him on the other side of the island. In front of her was more granite and a snaking stainless sink that served, as he recalled Kevin telling him once, as an “entertaining sink.” Apparent
ly, you could stock drinks in ice at one end of the sink, then as the ice melted, it simply drained away.

  Didn’t impress Jericho any. A cooler was just as good.

  “You seem to have found your way around,” he said finally, when he noticed she was simply staring at him waiting for him to say something.

  “I have. It’s like exploring an amazing new country.” She slid open the refrigerated drawer, plucked something from inside and dropped it onto a plate beside a pie she’d already taken from the cooking tray. “Now, I want you to try this and I think you’ll be glad I talked you out of having a sandwich,” she said, sliding the plate across the counter toward him.

  Jericho shifted his gaze from her to the plate and back again. “What is it?”

  “It’s good,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. “Honestly, don’t you have any adventure in your soul?”

  “I’ve had plenty of adventures,” he countered. “I just don’t usually include food in them.”

  Still, he thought, it did smell good, not that he was going to admit it anytime soon. The half-a-pie was still steaming and alongside it sat a small bowl with a couple of radish roses, curls of carrot and celery beside a small dish of what looked like ranch dip. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Raw vegetables? Not a favorite.”

  “I’ll make a note,” she said with a shrug. “But for now, you could eat them anyway. They’re good for you.” Then she waved at the plate. “Try the pasty.”

  “Pasty?” One eyebrow lifted. “Not the definition of pasty that I’m familiar with.”

  It took a second to register, then she blushed—actually blushed, for God’s sake—chuckled and that soft sound rippled through the room. “I can imagine. But this is a meat pasty. They’re from Cornwall, originally, I think. Some say it pah-stee,” she said. “Wives made them for miners’ lunches. They were easy to carry and hold and satisfying enough to take care of a hardworking man’s hunger.”

  Jericho nodded absently as she talked. Picking up the half pie, he sniffed it again, almost suspiciously, then took a bite. The piecrust simply dissolved in his mouth and the filling was… He groaned.

  Daisy gave him a bright smile. “You like it!”

  “You could say that,” he muttered around another mouthful. He really hated to admit it, but she was a hell of a cook. “It’s great.”

  “I’m so glad. I made them to go along with the home made soup. I know soup isn’t a very substantial meal, but with the fresh bread and the pasties…”

  He held up one hand. Clearly extreme measures were needed if a man was going to get a word in edgewise. “You made fresh bread?”

  “It’s just a couple of loaves of quick bread.” She sounded almost apologetic. “That way I didn’t have to wait for the yeast to rise.”

  “Right.” She’d only been here a few hours and she’d made soup, bread and this incredible pie he couldn’t stop eating. Kevin was a good enough cook, but he didn’t have half the drive this one small woman did. Plus, he wasn’t exactly adventurous with his cooking, which was, frankly, one thing Jericho had liked about him. But, if this pasty of hers was any indication, he had a feeling “adventures in food” was going to be a good thing.

  And, he had to admit, she might look like a flighty little thing, but she sure as hell wasn’t afraid to work. She’d done more in a couple of hours than Kevin managed to do in a day. To be fair, Kevin probably would have enjoyed doing more, but cooking for a bunch of men probably sucked the creativity out of him. Daisy was still fresh enough that she was excited about her work.

  While she talked, Jericho nibbled on the raw vegetables, surprising even himself. He’d always been more of a meat-and-potatoes man by choice. And frankly, being in the military had pretty much flattened his taste buds long ago. Food there was fast and plentiful. Cooked to keep a man on his feet, not to have him lounging around a table tempting his palate. But whatever kind of dip this was she’d concocted for the vegetables was damn tasty and the pie was good enough it could bring a grown man to his knees.

  As if she could read his mind, she wagged her index finger at him and said, “You’ll like my soup, too. Soups are actually one of my specialties, which will work out really well up here during the winter.”

  “What kind of soup?” he grudgingly asked, since he was being tempted by the satisfaction filling his stomach at the moment.

  She turned around, went back to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot again. Steam rushed up, carrying an amazing scent. “It’s beef and barley. I found all of the supplies in the fridge and the pantry and it’s so brisk and cold out right now, I thought soup would be good for tonight.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, already looking forward to sampling it as he finished off the pasty and wished he could get another one.

  “I have got great recipes for tomato soup and chicken and leek—”

  “Leek?”

  She glanced at him. “You’ll like it, I swear.”

  He probably would, he thought and warned his stomach not to get used to the good life.

  “Anyway, when it snows up here, there’ll be lots of good, hearty soups and breads and stews. Then in summer, you’ll love my barbecued chicken wraps and—”

  He cut her off before she could get too wound up. “Don’t be making long-term plans just yet.”

  “Affirmations, remember?” she countered with a grin. “As for dinner, I’ll do even better tomorrow night. What would you like? Pot roast? Pasta? Chicken enchiladas? Do you have any favorites?”

  God, his mouth was watering just listening to her. Between her looks and her abilities with a stove, she was definitely double trouble.

  Then she stopped and whirled around to look at him. “Better—what do you hate?”

  A reluctant smile curved his mouth. Hell, he had to give her points for tenacity. He’d given her an inch and she was quickly scrambling to take the whole damn mile. He admired that in anybody. And for a woman alone, fighting to make a place for herself, it took even more guts to stride right in, settle herself and immediately go to work carving out her own niche.

  But as much as she wanted this job, heck, as much as he’d like to get accustomed to eating this well, he couldn’t let that happen. For her own sake.

  And he almost regretted that fact.

  Almost.

  There’s not much I won’t eat,” he finally admitted. “But we’re not interested in anything fancy up here. I’ve gotten used to eating simple, plain food. Plus, it’s better for the clients when they’re here. Roast beef is going to give a man more energy on the mountain than a plate of snails.”

  “Ew. Snails.” She smiled and shuddered. “No worries in that department, I promise.”

  “Okay, good.” He finished off the pasty and thought about grabbing another as he watched her move around the kitchen. She sure as hell looked as if she knew what she was doing. Of course, he’d read her references, but tasting what she could do with food was different than reading about it.

  He nibbled at the carrot and celery curls, dipping them in the accompanying sauce. She was a good cook, but that didn’t mean she would make it here. Hell, he told himself, look at her.

  His gaze locked on her, he noted her delicate but curvy build. Her hair was in a ponytail that swung back and forth across her back like a pendulum with her movements. She was humming something just under her breath and when she opened a cupboard and reached for something, Jericho was treated to a glimpse of very pale, very smooth skin displayed when her blouse hitched up.

  His mouth went dry and his blood stirred. Damn, it had been too long since he’d indulged in a long weekend of sweaty sex. And now that that thought had taken root in his mind, he was picturing Daisy Saxon in his bed, that thick, soft hair of hers spread across his pillow. Her smile aimed at him as he moved in for a long, languorous kiss. Her breath sliding from her lungs as he entered her.

  Instantly, he shut down that train of thought and squirmed uncomfortably on the bar stool. He didn’t need
her here. Didn’t want her here. Couldn’t have her here.

  So he was just going to have to get rid of her—fast.

  Three

  “It’s amazing,” Daisy whispered, almost as if she were in church. She’d awakened early—too many years of getting up and moving in the restaurant business—and after getting dressed, she’d taken Nikki outside to enjoy the mountain quiet. Her little dog was off exploring the yard and all of the shrubbery, leaving Daisy alone in the shadows.

  Now, she was standing on the lawn, staring back at the house and realizing that in the pearly morning light, Jericho King’s log and glass mansion looked almost like a fairy-tale castle.

  She’d been too busy yesterday finding her way there and then falling on her face to notice much about the place. Her gaze swept over the façade and another murmur of appreciation slipped from between her lips. Wide balconies stretched along the second floor, with arched, twig-style railings. Behind those balconies, glass panels soared, allowing views of the tree-studded mountain and the lake in the distance.

  The lodge itself was surrounded by tall pines, and the wind whispering through the branches sounded like sighs.

  “It’s a good place, all right.” Jericho’s voice rumbled from right behind her and Daisy jumped.

  “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “I walk quietly. Tend to in the woods.” He stared up at the house as dawn painted the honey-colored logs with rosy hues.

  She nodded but silently guessed that his stealthiness also came from so many years spent in the military. “Well, it’s so quiet here anyway, it’s as if you’re afraid to make too much noise. I feel almost as if I’m in church or something. In the city,” she said on a sigh, “there’s always noise. Cars, trucks, sirens. Here…stillness.”

  “One of the things I like best about it,” he said.

  “I can see why,” she agreed. “I get tired of the crowds and the hustle and bustle myself. Somehow everything always seems to be rushed down in the city. Being here is almost like being on vacation!”