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    That had meant the world to him. It was something he carried in his wallet still. Thirteen years on. It was faded, it was old, but it was his. Something he’d earned. Something he’d never imagined would be taken away from him.
    But it had been. For no reason other than that Cade Mitchell hated his guts and he’d been a convenient target for the other man to point a finger at. Either because of anger, or to keep people from looking too closely at him.
    All Quinn knew was that he wouldn’t let it stand. He would get absolution by any means necessary. He’d had one place in life he’d fit. And no, he hadn’t had a hell of a lot of friends, and clearly the board wasn’t a crew of his biggest fans, but he’d had his place.
    Not anymore.
    With any luck, Sam would find some evidence to knock Mitchell on his ass. Failing that . . . failing that, there was the girl.
    He’d been surprised when he’d seen her standing there. Surprised by how attractive she was. Oh, she wasn’t a bleached blond with a plastic rack and a belly-baring top, which was a type he often ended up in bed with, since they were the kind of women who hung out looking to pick up cowboys of ill repute.
    But Lark had a kind of . . . natural beauty to her. Something fresh and almost sweet. A softness—and it wasn’t just in her enticing figure. Though she looked soft in that way too. Not in a negative way, but like a woman should be. Full breasts that were the gift of God and not of a surgeon’s hand. A trim waist and rounded hips.
    Soft, pale skin. Glossy brown hair.
    Everywhere a man touched her, he would be reminded that she was a woman.
    Yes, her beauty had been a shock.
    “Through here,” he said, pushing open a door that led to one of the large outbuildings. It was more rough-hewn in looks than the main house. Wood left natural, unfinished. There were chairs in the front room, and desks, and through the entryway, into the back, there was a big room with tables that were, for now, empty. And the wall was lined with boxes. Computer boxes. “And this is where you can start.”
    “Nothing is even plugged in,” she said.
    He shrugged. “Yeah, I figured you could handle most of it. It is what you’re being paid to do, after all. Get everything set up. Start with opening the boxes.”
    She gave him an evil glare. “Really? Seems outside of my jurisdiction.”
    “Until you form a union, I’m not going to worry much about that.”
    “I could use the boxes to make some protest signs.”
    “I think going on strike might be considered a violation of your contract, in which case, I’ll be knocking on your brother’s door and asking him to help settle up your debts.”
    “Okay,” she said, hands planted on shapely hips. “Let’s get one thing straight here and now. This is between you and me.”
    He almost laughed. Of course it wasn’t between the two of them. It never had been. He would have hired the guy who’d set up his ranch in Texas if he hadn’t seen an opportunity to get a foothold in Cade’s world via his much-doted-on sister.
    Now, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do with her, but the fact that he had her, at his mercy in many ways, for the next six weeks was enough for now.
    “Sure,” he said, instead of voicing the truth. “But if that’s the case, it cuts both ways. This is between you and me, and Cade has nothing to do with it.”
    “That’s not . . . I can’t . . .”
    “Then I can’t.”
    “If I default on the contract, Cole and Cade have nothing to do with it. I don’t want you showing up at their door and making my problems their problems.”
    “You strike me as the kind of girl who hasn’t had very many problems, honey. And I bet the ones you have had were taken care of by daddy or by your brothers.”
    “Oh, you think that?” she asked, one delicate brow arching. “You don’t have anything but hair under that hat, do you, cowboy?”
    “Don’t tell me your brothers