Outbid by the Boss by Stephanie Browning

when Sam chuckled at the antics of a scolding squirrel and turned her head to catch Chas’ reaction, he realized he was already in deep, deep trouble. How had he not been aware until yesterday, how full of life this woman was; he’d hired her for heaven’s sake! And then kept his distance. Why?
    Wrenching his thoughts back to safer ground, Chas cast a critical eye over Sam’s ability in the saddle. He needn’t have bothered. She rode well. Max was the perfect mount, and Sam was proving to be a natural, instinctively understanding the balance between controlling the horse and giving him his head. Maybe he should take lessons from Max, thought Chas ruefully. Despite his best intentions, his ill humour had jeopardized his relationship with Sam. All he’d wanted to do was put it back on a professional keel, but he had so little experience with women who touched him on a startlingly deep level, that he’d handled it all wrong.
    Handled her all wrong.
    Sam was saucy, stubborn and sexy. His eyes strayed to the boots she wore and grinned. And a tad jealous, maybe? She had definitely shown a spurt of temper over those boots. She would have known they weren’t his mother’s. Unfortunately, everyone at Burton-Porter knew the story. How his mother had cleared Porter Hall of everything she owned and then some, a week before she left for greener pastures. And that he rarely attended charity and business affairs without a beautiful woman on his arm. Obviously, Sam had drawn her own conclusion.
    Chas purposely chose his dates wisely, and whether they liked it or not, the women in his world understood that his only commitment was to his business. Yet, in less than twenty-four hours, determined, passionate Sam had trampled over his boundaries. She had drawn things out of him that he had never, ever shared with anyone else. His housekeeper wasn’t blind, and had often kept a close eye when Chas was home from boarding school, but she had never pried.
    What then was it about Miss Redfern?
    And his sudden need to be near her. Chas cleared the cobwebs from his head and urged Damien forward.
    “It’s so lovely,” breathed Sam as he approached her side. “I don’t see how you can bear to leave this for the hustle and bustle of London.”
    They had come to the rise above what was once the home farm and stopped to admire the view. He could see George on the near side of the next field mending a fence. His sheep dotted the slope beyond, their woolly bodies kept in check as usual by Robbie, George’s sharp-eyed border collie.
    “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go down and say hello to George,” he said.
    “Is he the man we saw last night?” Sam flashed him a spectacular grin. “The one with the handkerchief.”
    Chas nodded. “That’s the one.” His expression darkened. “I want to have a word with him about my plans for the Hall…before he hears it from somebody else.”
    “Will he lose his land?”
    Chas shook his head. “The home farm was deeded to him years ago. According to local legend, George’s ancestors arrived here long before ours did.”
    “Ah, then he’ll know every skeleton in the Burton-Porter closets.” Sam grinned mischievously.
    Chas groaned. “’You have no idea. You wouldn’t be thinking of adding blackmail to your rap sheet, would you Ms. Redfern?”
    Sam laughed and kicked Max to a canter. Chas rode beside her. Sharing his history with someone like Sam felt incredibly natural, as though they’d known each other for years. It was a thought that both comforted and unsettled him.
    Hearing their approach above the sheep bleating in the field beyond, the old man straightened, rubbing his lower back as he turned to greet them. “Morning, George,” said Chas.
    “Morning.” George tipped his cap, his gaze settling on Sam.
    “Hello,” said Sam.
    George stepped forward as Chas made the introductions. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Redfern.”
    “Call me Sam,” said Sam as she stretched out her