Page 23 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

She had to be clever about this, seriously smart. If she didn’t keep an eye on what they were doing and why they were doing it, the lines would blur and confusion would settle in. They were sleeping together because the sex was amazing and their chemistry off the charts.

The fact that they enjoyed each other’s company was an additional bonus.

But they should tone it down, keep it cool, keep those lines crisp and sharp. It wasn’t wise to spend so much of their out-of-bed time together; hell, maybe they should stop having sex every night.

Though, to be honest, she didn’t want to. She loved exploring the depths of her desire with Brett and, because of him, she’d regained or, to be more accurate,foundher sexual confidence. With this smoking hot, generous and virile man, she was gloriously uninhibited and felt safe to tell him what she did or didn’t like. And he listened, learned and made her body sing.

But sex was sex but her longing for connection, for his company, was dangerous, worrying. And it needed to stop.Theyneeded to stop...

Not today, tomorrow or the next day but soonish.

Because this couldn’t last forever. Nothing this good ever did.

But for now, she’d settle for shoring up her defenses and stop acting like a lovesick teenager waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up for the prom.

Because waiting around, wringing her hands was not something a strong, feisty and independent woman did.

Determined to make a point, to herself and to Brett, Sarabeth picked up her phone and dialed Jaynie. When her friend answered, she forced herself to sound jaunty. “I’m craving pizza. Can I bring a few pies over and a bottle or two of wine?”

“If you’re going to drink then you are not driving back,” Jaynie told her, “so pack your pj’s and your toothbrush.”

Perfect, she thought. If she wasn’t on the ranch when Brett finally returned, there was no way he’d suspect that she’d been hanging around waiting for him to appear.

Because he’d hate it if he thought she was becoming territorial and, worse, clingy.

From this moment on, she would do her best to get a better handle on this friends-with-benefits thing...

By the time Brett saw Sarabeth’s SUV moving up his driveway, he’d built up a fine head of steam. Instead of her being at the cottage when he arrived home the previous night, he’d found her place locked up tight and her car not in its usual parking spot in his six-car garage. He’d tried to call her a few times, both last night and this morning, but his calls went straight to voice mail. And he started to, stupidly he realized, consider calling local hospitals or to get Jules to check whether there had been any accidents in and around Royal.

His overreaction annoyed him.

As did the fact that he was so disappointed that she wasn’t home and waiting for him. He didn’t buy into that whole, woman-belonged-at-home stereotype but was frustrated that she hadn’t sent him a text message to give him a heads-up on her whereabouts...

And he’d lost a half morning’s work because he kept finding excuses to hang around the house to be around when she finally made an appearance. Where had she gone? Who had she been with?

Brett ran his hands over his face, irritated with himself and pissed off in general. He hadn’t slept well for the past few nights. The hotel bed had been big and lonely, and he’d missed her warmth. Her scent. The way her hair kept catching on his stubble.

And yeah, he missed the sex...

He felt like a lifelong addict who’d suddenly gone cold turkey. Shaky and weird and feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin. He’d never felt like this before...he was generally laid back and easygoing. So it freaked him out that he was annoyed with Sarabeth for going AWOL.

Brett blew out a frustrated breath. He had to get this craving for her under control. What he thought would be a quick fling had turned out to be a lot more intense than he ever imagined, and he needed to corral those emotions. They were having a fling, were bed-buddies, and he could not,wouldnot allow his feelings to deepen. Because if he did, Sarabeth would put his heart through the wringer. She was wealthy, independent—emotionally and mentally—and she had no intention of being one-half of a whole ever again.

And with his recent track record, having just made such an unnecessary mess with Lexi, he’d be a fool to jump into that alligator-infested swamp again. He wanted, no,neededa physical relationship devoid of expectations. And that was what Sarabeth was giving him...

So what, dumbass, was the problem?

He hoped God knew because he sure as hell didn’t.

Brett leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb to his kitchen and watched as Sarabeth pulled into her space, parking her SUV neatly between his Jet Ski and KTM 450 SX-F dirt bike. It had been a while since he’d ridden the bike but a year, maybe two, since he’d used the Jet Ski. He had a lot of toys but didn’t take the time to enjoy them.

He ambled over to the garage and by the time he reached Sarabeth, she was out of the SUV, a small overnight bag hanging off her shoulder. Dressed in jeans and a simple white, thigh-length sweater, knee-high leather boots and a colorful, oversize cotton scarf wrapped around her neck, she looked fresh and lovely.

And damn, he really wanted to take her to bed.

“Hi.”

Brett noticed the wariness in eyes the color of liquid ink as he returned her greeting.

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