Page 8 of Rugged

He still didn’t pull back. Didn’t give me any space, and I freaking loved it. Could he see the way my heart was pounding? My palms were sweaty, and I was overwhelmed. Nervous. Anxious I would keep on messing up, and he’d know I wasn’t cool and bold Lyssa.

For one hot second, the reality of being Boring Emma, the out-of-work designer with no social life felt like it weighed a million pounds.

I wanted to be glamorous Lyssa. The wild, carefree spirit who landed cushy jobs getting paid to do nothing on a billionaire’s ranch and then skipped town with a sultan for a week of hot, hopefully protected sex. Who could talk with men. Hell, who could meet a stranger in a bar, hook up, then go off with him to Ibiza.

I didn’t even have a passport.

I’d done it. I’d quit. Walked away from a shitty situation without any kind of safety net. That had been a Lyssa move. Could I do another one? Be all flirty andfun? Gah, not as me–that would be impossible. Emma didn’t do that. But I could fake it.

I smiled. “I’m Lyssa Lane, Mr. Chapman’s caretaker.”

Good God, what was I doing? A thrill shot through me at how risky… and exhilarating this was.

We were too close to shake hands. We were practically sharing breath. I could see his every freckle. Wanted to lift my hands and trace the contours of his sculpted chest.

“Caretaker, nice.”Gawd,that deep rumble went straight to my pussy. “Not, girlfriend?”

OMG–hewasinterested! Inme!

My smile grew wider. “Nope. I’m no one’s girlfriend. Totally available.” Now, I was starting to feel like Lyssa. As if taking on her name imbued me with the ability to go wild. To flirt and ditch all responsibilities–not that I had any while here. To believe in my own luck. That I’d come out on top no matter what happened.

“I didn’t get your name.” I was definitely flirting. Should I twirl a lock of hair? Bite my lip?

“I’m Johnny.”

Yes, you are.

“Do you work on this ranch?” I asked. “I’m pretty new and haven’t met anyone yet.”

He shook his head. “I’m an associate of Mitch’s. From Cooper Valley.”

I had no idea where that was, but it didn’t really matter.

“Thanks for helping with the, um” –I flapped a hand in the direction of the kitchen– “cookie fiasco.”

He grinned. “Yeah, what happened there? Those had to have been in the oven for way longer than just the few minutes it took you to answer the door.”

“Did they? I set a timer…” As I said it, I realized I must not have. I’d put the cookies in, tried to figure out how to use the fancy washing machine to put a load of laundry in–that had taken fifteen minutes at least–before HC–er–Johnny–had rang the doorbell. “Maybe I forgot to set a timer. Obviously, I’m terrible with them.” I laughed at myself, instead of dying of mortification. That was what Lyssa would do, brush it off with a smile. “I haven’t made cookies in a really long time. It’s too bad they’re ruined. I would’ve offered you some to thank you for your help.”

“And I would eat them.” His throat bobbed. His eyes went dark and dropped to rove over my body. “The cookies, I mean. Or really, anything you, uh, let me eat.” He rolled his lips together and relaxed them. “I do like to eat, Lyssa.”

Oh. My. God.

This was happening.

This was seriously happening.

This cowboy was totally into me. I could have himright nowif I wanted.

But that wouldn’t be safe. That would be nuts. I didn’t know this guy at all. He could be a psycho killer. He could have an STD. He could–

I thought of Lyssa. She probably hadn’t known the Sultan of Arunai any better than I knew this guy when they hooked up, and she flew on his private jet to Ibiza. Right about now she was probably sunning herself on an exclusive beach or a private yacht, and I bet she had no idea where Arunai was.

Nothing bad ever happened to her. She had fun. Adventures. Shelived.

What would Lyssa do with Johnny?

She would let him eat if that’s what he wanted to do.

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