“Okay, then,” she said when she realized that all feelings to the contrary, she still could breathe.
Zane continued to stare at her.
She swallowed. “Did you want to say something?”
Anything would be fine. Just any old reaction. As long as he wasn’t going to say it was all a mistake. That would really annoy her. Or maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe he kissed lots of women out here by the goat pens.
“I have to get back to work. Can you find your way to the house?”
She blinked at him. That was it? Okay. Fine. As long as she didn’t try to walk on legs that were still trembling, she could pretend nothing had happened.
“Sure,” she muttered. “No problem.”
He nodded, then bent down and picked up his hat. She frowned. When exactly had that fallen off? He straightened, opened his mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t even surprised when he turned and left without saying a word. It was just so typical.
When she was alone, Phoebe tried to work up a case of righteous indignation. When that didn’t work, she went for humor. If nothing else, she had to give Maya credit for the promised distraction. Oh. She also had to remember that as soon as she found out what constituted a treat on the baby-goat food hit list, she would be sure to send a thank-you gift.
* * *
ZANE FIGURED THE morning had been a cheap lesson. If one city slicker could get bit just walking around the ranch, what kind of trouble were ten greenhorns going to get into on a cattle drive? As he headed for the main barn, he considered the potential for broken legs, stampeding cattle and raging cases of poison oak. If he was lucky, that would be the worst of it. He didn’t want to consider what would happen if he wasn’t lucky.
Most of the time he didn’t allow himself second guesses. They were a pointless waste of time. But for once he wondered if he’d made the right decision when he’d chosen to host a cattle drive instead of simply paying back the deposits and taking the money out of Chase’s hide with a summer full of rough physical work.
That boy was going to be the death of him.
He jerked open the barn door and stalked toward his office. But instead of entering it, he passed through to the file room—an open area with dozens of file cabinets filled with breeding information, records for the ranch and medical histories for every Black Angus steer, cow or bull to step foot on the Nicholson Ranch. He crossed to the back wall where he studied a map of the area, including his ranch, the Castle Ranch to the east and the Konopka place to the west, and of course, the nearby town of Fool’s Gold.
His normal route for the cattle drive took him about a hundred and fifty miles from one end of Nicholson land to the other. It was an easy two weeks of lazy rides, wide-open spaces and plenty of time to just be without the hassles of everyday life. It was also about as far from the main ranch buildings as he could get, outside of coverage from the cell tower he’d had built several years ago. He took a few trusted men, some supplies and Tango, his best horse. Primitive didn’t begin to describe the conditions. They were his favorite two weeks of the year.
But not this year. Not with ten vacationers who, like Phoebe, had probably never been on a horse. He would—
Phoebe.
The reality he’d been doing his damnedest to ignore crashed in on him with all the subtlety of a bull after a cow. Desire flared, making him hot, horny and uncomfortable. He swore, stopped, remembered how good she’d kissed, then swore again.
What had he been thinking? Which was a stupid question because he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been reacting. One minute he’d been worried that she’d lost half a finger to an inquisitive kid, the next she’d been close and soft and he’d looked at her mouth, then bam. He’d kissed her. Like an idiot. Like a man who hadn’t kissed a woman in far too long.
The latter was true, but he ignored it, along with the burning need and his throbbing hard-on. She was Maya’s friend—someone he barely knew and didn’t plan to like. He didn’t go around kissing women on impulse. He didn’t do anything on impulse. When he figured it was time to scratch an itch, he found someone appropriate. Someone who understood his world and respected his responsibilities. Not brown-haired city girls with big eyes and shy smiles. Not women from LA. Not Maya’s friends.
He knew his ex-stepsister had sent Phoebe up to the ranch to keep an eye on him until she could arrive to do it herself. For as long as she’d known him, Maya had made it clear she considered him a potential child abuser who had it in for his brother. Her idealistic view of Chase frustrated him, as did her need to always take his side. The kid was a screwup, plain and simple. If someone didn’t take him in hand and fast, he was going to spend his whole life never getting one thing right.
Zane knew the danger of that. Maya thought he didn’t care, but she was wrong. He cared enough to be a bastard. Let Chase hate him all he wanted, just so long as the kid had a chance at a life without regrets.
Zane stared at the map without seeing it. Honesty insisted he admit Chase got one thing right. He was a born ladies’ man. From the second he’d learned to talk, he’d been charming females into giving him extra cookies and letting him stay up late. Now that he was a teenager, Chase probably spent his dates charming his way into girls’ pants. Zane had given him the safe-sex lecture more times than either of them could count and kept the kid supplied with condoms. The last thing either of them needed was an unplanned pregnancy.
Zane had yet to meet a female who didn’t fall for his brother’s easy words and open smile. Unlike Zane, Chase always knew the right combination of sincerity, charm and flattery. He wouldn’t kiss an attractive woman, then walk away without saying a word. Not that Zane had been talking all that much before he’d kissed Phoebe.
He could talk to the cowboys on his staff, explain the lineage of any of his prize bulls to a potential buyer and go toe-to-toe with the toughest, orneriest negotiator this side of the Mississippi, but with women...especially women like Phoebe...he clammed up tighter than a virgin in church.
The sound of footsteps distracted him. He turned his attention back to the map in front of him as Frank entered the room.
“Sent Chase into town for supplies,” the older man said. “I got bad news.”
Zane braced himself.
“We needed a couple more tents, and we’re a saddle short.”
Zane winced. A tent wouldn’t be expensive, but a good saddle was. “See if maybe Clay Stryker has one we can borrow. If not, keep track of how much we put out for this. I’ll take it out of Chase’s summer earnings.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Zane moved closer to the map. “We can’t take them on a real cattle drive. We’ll follow the river toward the edge of our property that borders the Strykers’, then turn west here.” He indicated the spot on the map.
Frank slid off his hat and rubbed the top of his head with his free hand. “You’re going in a circle?”
“A big one. We’ll never be more than four hours’ ride from either here, the Strykers’, or Reilly Konopka’s place.”
Frank’s expression tightened with surprise. “I didn’t know you’d started talkin’ to him.”
“I haven’t.” If he had his way, he never would. “We have to stay sharp. If there’s an emergency, I can’t risk us being too far from help.”
He knew he could count on the Stryker men, and while Reilly Konopka might be a crusty old pissant of a man who would happily leave Zane out in the cold to freeze to death, he wouldn’t turn away a stranger in need.
“Arrange for supplies to be delivered