Winning The Rancher's Heart. Pamela Britton

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      The smell of her body lotion or perfume or whatever wafted toward him. Vanilla and lemons.

      “We should try to catch him.”

      She sounded as Southern as Georgia peach pie. He finally looked away from the dog to peer over at her. Even in profile she was deeply and extraordinarily beautiful. She’d worn her hair loose around her shoulders, the bulk of it resting against an off-white sweater. An ambient morning glow filtered in through his windows and highlighted the paleness of her skin and the gorgeous blue of her eyes.

      “Stay here.”

      He didn’t give her time to respond; frankly, he was almost glad to leave her side. He didn’t like noticing how stunning she was. She worked for him. Her looks were something he didn’t want to dwell too deeply upon, so he stepped away from her, ducking through the entrance of his office and turning left, toward the massive stairwell that bisected the house. He’d always thought stained wood and wrought iron balustrade just a tad over the top, but it served its purpose well. He headed straight for the front door.

      “Do you have a leash?”

      She had clearly ignored his order to stay put. Why didn’t that surprise him? “No.”

      “Maybe I should go get one of mine.”

      He burst out onto his porch. The dog didn’t move. He headed toward the tree that it cowered behind, noting the matted fur and the skin that hung off its bones like a coat that was too big. It seemed to be some kind of terrier breed, an overgrown Toto that’d gotten too big for the basket. And it looked like it had a Mohawk. That was what she’d meant earlier.

      “That’s him. That’s the one I was telling you about.”

      “Go call animal control.”

      “No.”

      He glanced over at her sharply. She didn’t seem to notice, just moved past him. “Let’s see if we can catch him first.” Her feet crunched on the rocks of his gravel driveway.

      “Leave it alone. It might have rabies.”

      She stopped, turned to face him, the look on her face the same one she no doubt gave to her kids when they said something ridiculous, like maybe a candy bar would be good for breakfast. It raised his hackles. He’d been up for hours and he was pretty sure the scruff on his chin and the ends of his hair stood up on end, and he was tired, which might explain his cranky mood.

      “I sincerely doubt it has rabies. Like I said, we need to catch it.” She turned back to the animal. “Poor thing. It’s been weeks since he’s had a good meal.”

      “All the more reason to call animal control.”

      He turned to go back to the house to do exactly that, but she half turned and caught him with a “No,” and it was hard to say who was more startled, because she stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then jerked her gaze up at the same time she released his fingers.

      “I mean, please don’t do that. Not right now. Let’s see if we can catch him first.”

      “I don’t think he wants to be caught.”

      “Come here, Fido,” she crooned softly, once again ignoring him.

      “Fido?” he heard himself say.

      “Shush,” she told him.

      Shush?

      She hunched over a little, and God help him, his eyes dropped to her backside and the way her jeans clung to her curves and he forgot his disgruntlement and cursed inwardly instead.

      “There you go,” she crooned softly as she moved toward the oak tree near the edge of his driveway. “Don’t be shy. Remember? We met yesterday.”

      The dog didn’t move and Jax found himself eating his words because the mutt didn’t run away at all. He reached out with his nose, sniffing her.

      “Do you have a rope?”

      “Uh, I have no idea.” And if he did have one, who knew where it was. He’d paid someone to move him in. The past couple months had been a constant game of hide-and-seek.

      “A belt then?” She glanced up at him, still standing next to the dog, gently stroking his head, her wedding ring catching his eye. “Or a tie?”

      “I’ll go see what I can find.”

      This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his morning going at all. He’d imagined her sitting across the desk from him. Had planned to give her a to-do list a mile long. That would have kept her out of his hair. Instead he found himself standing in front of her and contemplating the odds of her obeying an order from him to let animal control deal with the situation.

      “You know what? You stay here. I’ll go inside. I have a leash we can use.” A smile stretched across her already wide mouth.

      “Here. You take him,” she added.

      But the moment she moved, the dog bolted. “Hey,” she cried, making a lunge for him. She landed on air, her breath rushing out of her with an oomph.

      She immediately rolled onto her back, Jax torn between revulsion and dismay because she’d managed to cover the front of her pretty off-white sweater with streaks of dirt.

      “That little jerk,” she said, using her hands to sit up. The dog ran away like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. “Now we’ll never catch him.”

      “Told you we should have called animal control.”

      “I can’t believe he did that.”

      He moved forward, holding a hand out to help her up. She took it willingly, and the way she smiled at him, her eyes bright and twinkling, her whole face lit up, it socked him in the solar plexus. Man. She could sell rain to Noah with that grin.

      “Perhaps you’ll listen to me next time.”

      He hadn’t meant the words to come out sounding so stern, but he saw her smile falter.

      “Perhaps I will.”

      She flicked her chin up and Jax couldn’t decide what her best feature was, her stunning eyes or the power of her grin.

      She pulled her hand out of his grip and brushed herself off. “Looks like I’m going to have to change.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Maybe I can get my kids to catch him when he comes back.”

      “Maybe.”

      What the hell was wrong with him that he watched her hands on her breasts, that a part of his mind went on its own little safari wondering if they were as firm as they...

      “Meet back in my office when you’ve changed.”

      He turned away before she could spot the bright shade of red that ran up the side of his neck, at least judging by the heat that scorched his skin. And the way he clenched his hands. Or the way his whole body had tensed.

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