The Rancher And The City Girl. Kathy Douglass

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СКАЧАТЬ Looking at Jericho made her wonder. Standing inside the door, his muscular arms folded across his equally muscular chest, his eyes narrowed, anger radiated off him in waves that shot across the room and crashed into her. Even though he was so furious he was vibrating, she still couldn’t help but notice how incredibly handsome he was. How masculine. She told herself that her heart lurched in her chest because he’d startled her, but that was only partly true.

      He raised an eyebrow, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question so she replied, “Cleaning.”

      “Why?”

      “I thought I could help you.”

      “What gave you the idea I needed or wanted your help?”

      Her stomach sank. So much for being thoughtful. While she believed she was showing him how she could make his life better, hoping he’d be less inclined to change his mind about letting her stay here, her actions may have had the opposite effect. He still hadn’t committed to a specific time frame for her stay, which would have given her a little peace of mind. Instead she was left in limbo, wondering if the next words out of his mouth would be the ones she dreaded hearing: get out. Of course now wasn’t the time to try to get him to commit. Not when she was one false move from being tossed out on her ear.

      “I...uh.” Her voice faded out as nothing came to mind. At least nothing that wouldn’t sound like criticism of his housekeeping skills.

      “I’m sorry if the accommodations at the Double J don’t meet the lofty standards you’re accustomed to,” he said, his lips barely moving. He didn’t raise his voice. Somehow that made his fury even more pronounced. “But you barged in on my life and home, not the other way around.”

      “I’m sorry. I was just trying to show my appreciation.”

      “If you want to show your gratitude, then stay out of my way and out of my office. The less I see of you the better.”

      She nodded, too stunned to reply, then walked out of his office, careful not to brush against him.

      Cursing under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear, he stormed through the hallway. Seconds later she heard the back door slam. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. Even though Jericho was gone, her stomach still churned like the Atlantic Ocean during a storm. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back hot tears. Crying never helped.

      She heard whining, then felt a wet nose pushing against her hand. Shadow. She knelt and buried her face in the dog’s fur. “I really messed up this time.”

      Shadow barked in reply, then swiped his tongue against her cheek. She hugged him once more, then pushed to her feet. She rinsed the mop, emptied the bucket and put the rest of the supplies where she found them. She needed to make herself scarce. Her three-inch heels weren’t ideal for walking on a ranch, but she couldn’t remain in the house.

      * * *

      Jericho saddled Diablo and rode across the field, the horse’s hooves thundering against the ground. The spirited stallion loved racing, and Jericho gave him the freedom to do so. They shot across the acreage as if the hounds of hell were after them.

      No matter how fast they went, Jericho couldn’t outrun the sorrowful look on Camille’s face when he’d lit into her. He knew she was scared and was probably trying to stay busy in order to keep from worrying about the people who wanted to kill her. She was literally running for her life and had come to him. Knowing that he disliked her, that couldn’t have been easy. In fact, that was further proof of just how desperate and frightened she was.

      It didn’t matter that he didn’t want her here. He’d told her she could stay. Implied in that statement was the promise that he would make her feel at least marginally welcome.

      She was nervous and walking on eggshells and not only because she was in fear for her life. She was uneasy because of him. That idea turned his stomach. He’d never thought he’d see confident Camille as timid as she’d been that morning at breakfast. And he never wanted to see her that way again. He preferred the proud woman. That pride wouldn’t allow her to take from him without giving something in return. He understood that. He was the same way. When he went back to the house, he’d apologize to her.

      They might not like each other, but they were going to have to find a way to peacefully coexist. Keeping their interactions to a minimum would be key. And they needed to discuss how long she planned to stay here. Not that he expected her to know for sure. But she had to have some idea when this would be over. They’d both feel better if they could establish how long they were going to be stuck with each other. And they needed to set up some ground rules.

      Though he could have used a calmer tone, he was being honest when he said they needed to stay away from each other. Camille’s very presence disturbed him. For the past year and a half he’d sleepwalked through his days. He’d been fine with that. Camille was changing that—changing him—simply by being around.

      Her long legs were driving him crazy. He didn’t like noticing her slender curves or the way her breasts rose when she took a deep breath. Watching her nibble on her bottom lip had the potential to send him sailing over the edge of reason.

      He’d always known his sexual desire would return one day. He just hadn’t expected Camille Parker to be the one to awaken it. The ferocity also startled him. He wasn’t worried that his emotions would return or that his heart would open to Camille. He’d buried his heart with Jeanette. But still, there was no need to risk it. He couldn’t survive another heartbreak.

      After brushing Diablo, leading him to his stall and making sure he had fresh water, Jericho returned to the house. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but he was man enough to admit when he’d done wrong. Camille wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. But hadn’t he practically banned her from the common areas of the house? Regret gnawed at his insides as he climbed the stairs to the second floor.

      The door to the guest room was closed. He knocked softly. No response. He knocked again, this time more loudly. Still she didn’t answer. Now he was the one shut out. Talk about poetic justice. After an internal debate about the propriety of opening her door without her permission, he turned the knob.

      “Camille?” He called quietly in case she was asleep. He opened the door an inch and peeked inside. Her perfectly made-up bed was empty. He stepped inside and looked around. There was no sign of her. Surely she wouldn’t have left. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. It wasn’t safe for her to use her credit cards. He’d been too angry to ask if she had cash. He had to find her and bring her back before she put herself in danger. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

      Cursing himself for being a thoughtless jerk, he raced down the stairs and out the back, crossed the grassy field, then yanked open the door of his shed. Her car remained where he’d parked it. A relieved breath whooshed from his chest. At least she had the good sense not to run away.

      He closed and locked the door, then went through the house and to the front porch. Sitting down in one of the two wooden rockers that had been on the far corner of the porch for as long as he could remember, he set the chair in motion. He’d grown up hearing how his grandfather had carved them for his grandmother after she’d caught him talking with her main rival at the high school Christmas dance. After that, she’d ignored him for months. He’d shown up on her birthday with the two rockers and a marriage proposal. The apology gift had worked, and they’d married the week after graduation. Jericho rubbed his hand over the smooth wood that had stood the test of time and three generations of endless rocking and wondered if there was any more magic in the СКАЧАТЬ