The Loner's Guarded Heart. Michelle Douglas

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      Kent rubbed his hands together as he waited for the tea to brew. With his chores done, he could kick back and enjoy the fading golden light of the afternoon, his favourite time of day.

      The cattle were fed and watered. He ran a herd small enough to manage on his own. And between them, the cattle and the cabins, they kept him busy enough through the days.

      The nights, though…

      The nights nothing!

      A knock sounded on his back door. He swung around. Josie?

      It had to be. He rarely had visitors out here, which was the way he liked it. He wasn’t a sociable man. He thought he’d made that plain to her this morning.

      Guilt wormed through him. He scowled at the teapot.

      Maybe she’d come to return the key and tell him she was leaving? His jaw clenched. Good. She could drive off into the sunset. He didn’t care. No skin off his nose.

      ‘Kent?’ She knocked again.

      He bit back a string of curses and strode out to answer the door. The sharp remark on his lips died when he found her standing on the bottom step with a frosted chocolate cake in her hands and a hopeful expression in her gold-flecked eyes.

      Damn.

      ‘Hello.’ She smiled, or at least her lips gave the tiniest of upward lifts.

      He grunted in reply. Things inside him shuffled about and refused to settle into place.

      She’d recently showered and damp hair curled around her shoulders. It gleamed in the last shaft of sunlight that touched his house for the afternoon, and he could pick out more shades of brown than he thought possible for one person to possess. Everything from light honeyed brown all the way through to rich walnut.

      And not a mouse in sight.

      She smelled fresh and fruity. Not run-of-the-mill apples and oranges either, but something more exotic. Like pineapple and…cucumber? She smelt like summer nights on the beach.

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat on a beach. Or when he’d last wanted to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten chocolate cake either. He tried to stop his mouth from watering.

      She thrust the cake towards him. ‘This is for you.’

      He had no option but to take it. ‘Why?’ His eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust the sensations pounding through him and he didn’t trust her either.

      Her gaze darted behind him into the house. She moistened her lips when she met his gaze again. ‘I, umm—’

      ‘You want to use the phone again?’ Typical woman. Couldn’t be without—

      ‘No.’ She drew herself up. ‘It’s a thank-you for last night’s bottle of wine.’

      He’d known he’d end up regretting that bottle of wine. He stared at her. She had a pointy little chin that stuck out when indignant. He wanted to reach out a finger and trace the fine line of her jaw.

      He darn well didn’t! He shoved the cake back at her. ‘I don’t want it.’

      She took a step back and blinked. Then amazingly she laughed. ‘Wrong answer, Mr Black; you’re supposed to say thank you.’

      Shame bore down on him. There was a world of difference between unsociable and downright rude. Jeez. ‘You’re right.’ He dragged his free hand down his face. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled in a breath and tried to gulp back hasty words clamouring for release. ‘You better call me Kent.’

      He couldn’t grind back the rest of his words either.

      ‘I’ve just made a pot of tea. Would you like to join me?’

      The gold flecks in her eyes lit up. ‘Yes, please.’