The Rancher's Surrender

intense Delia and so absolutely ungentle and unfunny with her?

Instead he was bold and wicked and fierce, and she refused to feel bad, or at least admit that she did. 'You could have chosen Maddie or Delia to help you today, so don't complain that you're stuck with me.'

'Who's complaining?'

Well, he had her there. Feeling awkward with him so close and so big, she looked around desperately for a distraction. She didn't have to look too far. The dry, parching heat was getting to her. 'I wish I had a rubber band!'

'Here.' He reached into the truck and opened the glove box. His wallet fell out, opened, to the floorboard. Ignoring that, Ty found a rubber band and handed it to her.

'Thank you.' But the words were hard to say because she was looking into the truck, down at his open wallet. And at the two-two!-condoms in it. A little squeak of shocked embarrassment escaped her.

Without any sign of self-consciousness, he replaced the wallet and straightened.

'Better?' he asked, gesturing to her now-contained hair. She could only stare at him. He carried two condoms on him, was all she could think. 'Two?'

He let out a slow, sexy grin at that and she nearly swallowed her tongue, realizing she'd spoken out loud. 'I mean-'

'I know what you mean,' he said. A long finger stroked her cheek, while his eyes flared with a surprising amount of heat. 'I'm not promiscuous, I just like to be prepared. And sometimes one just isn't enough.' His smile spread. 'It wouldn't be with you, Slim.'

'I- You- Oh.' Hopelessly flustered, she studied their feet, blushing all the more when he laughed softly. And she decided if he was enjoying this, she might as well ask. 'Just how not promiscuous are you?'

'Well… those two would probably fall apart if I needed them, they're so old,' he admitted ruefully.

That cheered her up considerably. Until he tipped up her chin and said, 'I'm thinking of replacing them.' His thumb glided along her lip, making it tingle, and the look in his eyes made her heart take off like a shot.

He did it on purpose, she decided, just to see her all ruffled, and she renewed her efforts at resenting him with all her locked-up heart. Before she could stalk off, he easily captured her hands again, studying them carefully. 'I want you to wear the gloves so you don't get cut and scratched.' His thumb slid lightly over a reddened knuckle.

Just a simple touch. One little touch. And because of it, she had to open her mouth to breathe. Then he bent and blew lightly on her wound, just a slight puff of air, and she nearly moaned out loud.

She snatched back her hand. 'Knock it off.' She was proud of her even, haughty voice. He didn't have to know that her bones had just melted away, leaving her drowning in a pool of longing.

He just looked at her, all one hundred eighty pounds of uninhibited, rowdy, knowing male. 'What's the matter?'

She lifted her chin and glared back. 'You're wasting precious daylight hours. I'm going to have to dock your pay.'

'I'm not getting paid.'

Which was another puzzle she'd been meaning to solve. 'You cared for Constance that much that you'd do this for one year without compensation?'

He met her gaze evenly. 'Yes.'

That sort of generosity was unheard of where she'd come from. There was a reason for it, she reminded herself. Just as there was a reason he was trying to butter them up.

'We are going to pay you, you know,' she grumbled, looking away. 'Soon as we can.'

He smiled then and leaned against a post, all sinewy grace. 'The gig is up.'

'What gig?'

'Why don't you save us both a bunch of trouble and admit how you feel about me?'

She managed a laugh. 'It's not flattering.'

That infuriatingly sexy smile stayed put. 'You're crazy about me.'

'Crazy, definitely.' She flipped her precarious ponytail back, using annoyance to cover her fear. Had she given herself away? He couldn't have guessed her deepest, darkest, most secret fantasy, could he?

Her secret little hope that someday he would be the crazy one. Crazy for her. Not for the land, but her.

Just thinking it in the light of day had color rushing to her cheeks. She put her hands on them, feeling the dirt streak on her skin.

She could only imagine how she looked. And how was it that she felt as though grime clung to her every pore, while he looked cool and clean? He even smelled good, she thought resentfully. Lingering soap and one hundred percent male. No man should be allowed to smell that good. Standing there thinking about it, she wavered in the heat.

No wonder women fell over him. It was disgusting, yet she leaned just a tad closer to catch another whiff.

She must be more tired than she thought.

His eyes narrowed on her, reminding her she didn't like that he noticed every little thing about her, especially the things she didn't want him to notice. 'You're slacking off, Jackson,' she muttered, turning away. 'Get back to work.'

'Let's take a break.'

'I don't need one.'

He hauled her back around, his hands firm on her hips. 'I need one,' he insisted, searching her face for who knew what. 'I'm tired, Zoe. Very tired.'

'Oh. Well then, I don't want to show you up or anything and make you feel bad.' She sank gratefully to the tailpipe of the truck-actually, rambling heap better described the ancient, beat-up thing that had been left on the deserted ranch.

When Ty offered her iced tea from a cooler he kept in the back, she nearly whimpered in pathetic thanks.

On the gentle slope below them she could hear the rush of the river, and it sounded cool and inviting. A single falcon flew overhead, its wingspan wide and sure. Zoe watched, fascinated, reminded that she was indeed in another world from her accustomed city. 'It's so… hushed,' she whispered.

'Peace and quiet are the catch of the day,' he agreed, tossing his hat into the truck.

'I know. The view is so close I feel it reaching out to touch me.' She flushed, feeling stupid for voicing her thoughts.

Ty was staring at her, appreciation and frank approval in his gaze. 'You do feel it, the magic in the air here. I wasn't sure.'

'Yes,' she admitted. 'I feel it.'

The awareness between them was thick as ever. He didn't seem any more inclined than she to deal with it. Ty tipped back his head and drank. A drop of the clear, cool drink ran slowly down his neck, leaving Zoe with the most shocking urge to lean close and lick it off.

'Oh Lord, I've lost it,' she muttered weakly, closing her eyes to both the man and the sun. 'Completely lost it. It's too hot or something.'

Odd as it was, Ty let the opportunity to rile her pass, remaining unnaturally silent.

Startled by that, Zoe opened her eyes and stared at him. He leaned against the side of the truck bed, one foot bent and braced against a tire, his elbows supporting his weight as they rested on the top of the truck. His shirt stretched intriguingly over his wide chest. His jeans, streaked with dust, emphasized his long, powerful legs. Tipping up his face, he caught the warmth beaming down.

A man seemingly at rest.

And yet his every muscle vibrated with tension.

'What is it?' she asked softly.

Another man might have leaped in with denials, or at least shrugged her off.

Ty did neither, didn't budge. That terrible stillness held him, further alarming her. What if he were having a heart attack? Sunstroke? She was helplessly ignorant about such things. 'Are you… sick?'