The Millionaire and the Cowgirl. Lisa Jackson

worships the ground you walk on anymore.”

      His jaw tightened.

      “You want the truth? You got it!” Ten years of fury grabbed hold of her tongue. “I thought I loved you, Kyle, and you didn’t care a lick about me. Oh, sure, I was a lot of fun, a good time whenever you were in the mood for a quick one in the hayloft or down by the creek, but certainly not someone to marry or care about.”

      “God,” he whispered.

      “I wouldn’t have cared, Kyle, wouldn’t have given one good damn, but within three or four months, you got married just like that.” She snapped her fingers in his face, ignoring the old pain throbbing in her heart. “And you didn’t even have the guts to call. Because I meant so little.”

      A muscle ticked in the corner of his eye.

      “Just some stupid little country girl who was good enough to make it with, but not good enough to—to…”

      “To what? Marry?” He angled his face toward hers. “Is that what you wanted?”

      I just wanted you to love me. “I guess I did at the time. I believed in commitment. Lucky for me you were so fickle. Otherwise I might have made the biggest mistake of my life!”

      “If you were so interested in commitment, what about Caitlyn’s father?”

      “Don’t even ask,” she warned, backing up.

      “You brought it up.”

      “I think it would be best if we kept my daughter out of this conversation.” She didn’t wait for a response, just walked around him and climbed into the cab of her truck. A yellow jacket buzzed wildly over the dash, bouncing against the windshield, nearly tangling in her hair in its flight out the open window.

      Sam’s cheeks felt hot and her pulse was dancing crazily as she glanced in the rearview mirror. Kyle hadn’t moved. He stood tall and rigid, his legs planted wider than his shoulders, his straight hair ruffling in the breeze as he stared after her.

      Her heart gave a painful kick. Tears threatened, but she willed them away. Her fingers tightened over the wheel as she silently cursed the day she’d met Kyle Fortune and his too-damned-sexy smile.

      Four

      “Women,” Kyle grumbled, dusting his hands together, as if in so doing he could get rid of Sam and the way she’d already gotten under his skin. It was useless. Somehow, someway, in less than twenty-four hours, she’d managed to invade his mind and slip back into his blood. He had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to purge himself of her easily. He looked at the stallion, which was standing nearly motionless, staring at Kyle as if he were some sideshow attraction. “Women are the single most interesting creation God ever came up with, as well as the most infuriating. Especially that one.” Kyle glanced over his shoulder, but spied only the dust settling onto the gravel driveway. Samantha was long gone. He should have been elated, but wasn’t. Her barbs had stung.