Page 17 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

“Obviously Mary-Jo is lacking in that particular skill if she’s agreed to be seen in public with you,” Brett retorted, happy to have the spotlight moved off him. But he was under no illusions that if Jules could turn the tables back to his love life, such as it was, he would.

Their friendship was rock solid and based on loyalty, kinship and a lifetime of insults.

Five

Sarabeth wiped her damp hands on her tight-fitting jeans and fiddled with the cuff of her men’s style, button-down shirt. She glanced at her watch and tapped her index finger on its oversize face. Hours and hours had passed since she’d last seen Brett. It was past six and she’d give him until seven to get over here, but if he didn’t show, then she’d track him down and they would have a discussion about how to address their insane sexual attraction.

Or she’d just jump him.

Either way, she’d put an end to her acting like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Sarabeth sat down on the edge of the pretty two-seater couch in the cottage’s small sitting room and dug her bare toes into the shaggy woolen rug covering the stone floor. Sighing, she looked toward the wood burner in the corner and wished it was cold enough for a fire. She could easily imagine stretching out on the rug, the heat from the stove warming her naked skin as she watched Brett pull his Henley over his head, push his jeans down his slim hips revealing his...

She released a heartfelt groan, wishing she could kick her own butt. She was being utterly ridiculous, and her inability to stop thinking about her landlord naked was driving her insane...

Sarabeth flung herself backward against the thick cushion and closed her eyes. Since leaving Brett at the stables to tend to the owl, she’d been hyped and utterly unable to concentrate. She veered between being desperate to see him and equally desperate to avoid him because of how out of control he made her feel.

Despite never attending college, Sarabeth considered herself an educated adult, and had graduated summa cum laude from the school of hard knocks. She wasn’t a dewy-eyed teenager and knew that sexual attraction was a result of pheromones. Something about Brett made her hot and vice versa. Humans were, as a species, hard-wired to mate, and she wasn’t stupid enough to read more into this heady, dizzying situation.

She wanted him, he wanted her. It was simple biology.

Which meant she would not put herself in the position of wanting more from Brett than he could give. Too often in the past, she’d confused sexual attraction with the beginnings of a relationship and she’d had her fingers burned and, in some cases, her heart set on fire...and not in a good way.

No, this time she would be clear thinking about this.

If something happened, and she and Brett had sex, it would be just a fling, a way to sate this terrible yearning. After so many years of looking for love, she was finally comfortable being single and she enjoyed her own company. She was self-sufficient and liked to control her own schedule. And now, not having the responsibility ofSarabeths!anymore, she was a free agent and could do what she wanted and go where she pleased. No relationship was worth sacrificing her freedom.

So, if Brett was looking for a relationship—and he couldn’t be, not so soon after his botched wedding—he should look elsewhere.

She’d make that clear, if and when, they got to that point—

Sarabeth heard the sharp rap on the door and bolted up, instinctively running a hand over her hair. She launched herself to her feet and started to rush to the door before stopping abruptly.Slow down, take a breath, don’t let him think you were waiting for him...

Be cool, for God’s sake.

But why should she and why was she playing games? She wanted him, and intended to make that clear, so why was she pandering to social conventions? She prized honesty and so, she suspected, did Brett.

Just open the damn door, Edmond.

Sarabeth crossed the small space to the door and pulled it open, promising herself that she would at least say hi before she flung herself into his arms...

Manners, after all, were important.

She fumbled with the doorknob, cursing when her damp hand slid off the knob. Taking a deep, calming breath, she tried again, and there he was, looking rough and tough and so sexy it hurt. Brett had showered; his dark hair was damp and looked like he’d only brushed it out with his fingers. He’d pulled on a soft cashmere V-neck sweater and a pair of soft, black jeans. When she met his eyes, he held up a bottle of wine. “It’s a merlot I won at a TCC fundraiser. Apparently, it’s really good and freaking expensive.”

“Sounds good,” Sarabeth replied, her heart rate accelerating. “Did you come over here to drink wine with me?”

“I don’t drink so I was going to ply you with it while persuading you to let me take you to bed.”

Her mouth curved at his blunt reply. She’d been right about him preferring honesty. So did she. “Excellent, let’s start with that and I’ll hit the wine later.”

Linking her arms around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes to slide her mouth against his. She felt Brett tense, then he groaned and took control of the kiss. One strong arm banded around her back and he hauled her to his body, her aching breasts pushing into his chest. Ah, yes,this...

Sarabeth heard him fumbling and pulled back to see Brett trying to place the bottle of wine on the small, decorative table next to the door. She saw him release the bottle but before she could utter a warning, the bottle skimmed the side of the table and shattered on the flagstone floor.

Brett cursed but reacted quickly, lifting her up and off her feet. She felt a couple of droplets of wine hit her bare feet but Brett walked her inside, away from the mess outside her door. She expected him to put her down, but he just turned her and backed her up against the closest wall.

Placing his hands under her thighs, he easily lifted her up and it felt natural to wind her legs around his hips, relying on him to keep her pinned against the wall.

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