Betting On The Maverick. Cindy Kirk

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СКАЧАТЬ alive from the cute little snoring sounds. Though he’d never gotten the impression she and her dad were particularly close, he had to admit she had seemed concerned when she’d discovered him MIA.

      Brad had been uneasy when he’d first learned Boyd didn’t have any family back east. But anyone who knew the old guy knew Boyd could take care of himself, drunk or not. The man reminded him of a badger, solitary and not all that pretty but damned determined.

      Thankfully, his daughter took after her mother in the looks department. Though, he had to admit, last night she had shown a few badger tendencies. For a second, he’d thought she might try to rip a piece out of his hide.

      Having him in her family home definitely had her all hot and bothered. Or maybe it was him without his shirt.

      Brad grinned and relaxed even further in the saddle. There had been a potent sizzle of attraction between them. She’d done her best to ignore it. But he’d seen how her gaze had lingered on his bare chest and then dropped lower for an instant before returning to his face.

      She might want him out of her house, but she also wanted him in her bed. A place where he wouldn’t mind spending a little time.

      The sex would, of course, likely be a short-term kind of thing. It would be like one of those fireworks on the Fourth of July. Brilliant and hot, they’d light up the sky then everything would fizzle.

      That was fine with him. His marriage to Janie had confirmed what he’d always known. He wasn’t a happily-ever-after kind of guy. Though Brad liked and respected women, he could never seem to make them happy. At least not out of bed.

      The house was still quiet when he entered after putting his horse in the stable. Normally, he’d have stayed out most of the day, trying to get everything ready for winter. But he and Margot had a few things to square first.

      Until they came to an understanding, he didn’t trust her not to toss his stuff into the yard and lock him out of the home. Thankfully, the doors didn’t have deadbolts and he’d been smart enough to drop a key into his pocket before leaving the house—just in case.

      People in this part of the country barely locked their doors. If he had a mean-ass dog like Viper, there’d be no need to lock anything ever again.

      Pulling the door shut, Brad glanced around. No sign of Margot. Or Viper.

      Brad set the coffee to brew, then pulled out a heavy cast-iron skillet and went to work.

      Several minutes later, when the eggs were frying in bacon grease and two slices of his mother’s homemade bread had just popped up in the toaster, Brad was distracted from his culinary pursuit by a voice from the doorway.

      “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

      Ignoring the outrage in the tone, Brad wrote off the impressive anger to an as-yet-no-coffee morning.

      “What does it look like?” He focused on plating the food. “I’m making breakfast.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I’m hungry. I assume you are, too.” He turned to glance at her.

      It was a mistake. Hair still slightly damp from the shower hung in gentle waves past her shoulders. She’d pulled on a green long-sleeved tee that made her eyes look like emeralds and showed off her breasts to mouthwatering perfection. The jeans, well, the way they hugged those long legs should be outlawed.

      Though Brad told himself not to go there, he imagined stripping off her shirt and filling his hands—and his mouth—with those amazing—

      “What’s the matter with you?”

      Brad blinked and the image vanished. He resisted the urge to curse. Barely. “What do you mean?”

      His innocent tone had her green eyes flashing.

      “You looked like you were plotting something.”

      Oh, she was perceptive, this one. He had indeed been plotting. Plotting what to do once he got her into bed. The thought made him grin.

      “I was just thinking about feasting on—” he stopped himself in the nick of time “—eggs. And bacon.”

      “We need to talk.”

      “Eat first. Then talk.” Brad placed the plates of food on the table then expertly filled two mugs with coffee. He cocked his head. “Cream?”

      “Black.”

      “A woman after my own heart.”

      She took the cup he handed her then met his gaze.

      “I’m a woman,” she said, “who is determined to get you out of my home.”

      Viper, whom he’d up to now tried to ignore, growled as if in agreement.

      “Drink your coffee,” he said mildly.

      “Coffee won’t change my mind.” Still, she brought the cup to her lips and exhaled a blissful sigh after the first gulp. She looked up. “What is this? The cheap stuff my dad always had on hand did double-duty as a drain cleaner.”

      “I order it online. It has chicory in it.”

      Those wide lips of hers curved up. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Margot Sullivan looked as though she might be starting to soften toward him.

      He thought about pulling out her chair, but decided that would be overkill. Brad pulled out one for himself and sat down.

      Sunlight streamed in through the window, filling the small eating area in the country kitchen with warmth. He supposed some people found the wallpaper with dancing teakettles appealing. At first they’d bothered the heck out of him. Now he barely noticed them.

      Though he’d moved in two months earlier, Brad had focused on the outdoor needs and had left the inside alone.

      When Boyd had first left town, Brad felt sure the old guy would be back any day. Then he’d learned about the ticket to New York. Brad had asked around and discovered the old guy hadn’t requested any of the neighbors to watch the ranch. Of course, that may have been because he now considered it to be Brad’s.

      After almost two months, Brad had grown weary of making the trek to the ranch every day and decided to move in.

      Though the decor wasn’t to his liking, the only change he made was to the guest bedroom. He refused to sleep under a pink, blue and yellow quilt with ruffles around the shams.

      The scrape of a chair against the linoleum had him looking up just in time to see Margot finally take a seat in the chair opposite him, her steaming mug gripped tightly in one hand.

      “Your dog might be hungry,” he said. “Her kibble is in the bowl over there.”

      Brad gestured with his head toward a weathered enclosed back porch that doubled as a storage area.

      “I put some water out for her, too.”

      Margot paused, coffee mug poised near those tempting full lips. “Where СКАЧАТЬ