Wild For You

His mouth twitched at the corner. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but the closest thing to one that she’d seen on his face yet. “I have a washing machine and dryer if you want to use them before your next appointment.”

“What?” She glanced down at herself and then over her shoulder to check the back. Of course she didn’t have an appointment. She’d just said that as an excuse. “Dammit, this is a new skirt.” And it belonged to Lila.

“It’s only mud,” Spencer said, eyeing the front of her legs. “It’ll wash out.”

“I hope so.”

His gaze shifted briefly to Dusty, then back to Erin. “Are you coming?” Impatience flared in his face and extended to his voice. “I haven’t got all day.”

“Yes, thanks.”

Dusty hadn’t moved. He was staring at his boss with a puzzled frown. But one warning look from Spencer and Dusty opened the car door and hopped in.

Spencer didn’t even wait for her or offer his arm. Though the ground wasn’t muddy where they walked around to the back of the two-story brick house. Erin was five-five and he had to be over six feet, so it was hard keeping up with his much longer strides.

It felt good to get her circulation going, though. The autumn day had started off mildly enough, but the puddle had been cold, and the brisk wind sweeping off the foothills made her teeth chatter.

He held the door open and gestured her inside. She stopped on the thick woven floor mat and tried to scrape off her muddy right shoe, wishing she’d worn her usual Nikes. The heel caught in the roping. A discreet jerk didn’t help. Stooping or bending over wasn’t going to be fun. Or easy.

“Hold on a minute.” Spencer crouched behind her and lifted her foot out of the shoe, then freed the heel. “You want to leave these off for now?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling like a five-year-old, bracing her hands against the door frame and still clutching the folder. It not only held the contract but Lila’s list. “Thank you.”

Unexpectedly, he wrapped his fingers around her other ankle, and a jolt of heat shot up her leg. For a big guy with big hands, he had a gentle touch. She almost didn’t notice when his palm slid partway up her calf as he removed her other shoe.

“Don’t worry about the floor,” he said, and she realized he was waiting for her to move forward. “It’s just the mudroom.”

“Oh.” She glanced at the parkas and jackets hanging on hooks, at the cubbyholes filled with heavy gloves. “I’ve never seen a mudroom before.”

“On second thought, you’d better use this.” Rising, he grabbed a towel hanging on the side of a deep utility sink. “I don’t care about the floor, but you could slip.”

He threw the towel on the tiles in front of her, his hand poised near her elbow, ready to catch her if she stumbled. His brown hair was a bit longer than last time but still pretty short. It was an expensive cut, not something a regular barber would do.

“Don’t you have a rag? I don’t want to stain your towel.”

“That is a rag. Go ahead.”

Probably a good thing he never smiled. Who knew what that would do to her? Normally, she wasn’t a clumsy person. “I’m sure some of the homes in California have mudrooms, but not in the area where I grew up,” she said, wiping the bottom of her feet on the rag. “Most people think of LA or Hollywood, but there are lots of ranches in the southern part of the state.”

He looked as though he couldn’t be less interested in her rambling. “Right through that door is the laundry room.”

The nervous chatter wasn’t like her. Not even around good-looking guys. And then it hit her. “I can’t wash my clothes.” She turned to look at him. “I have nothing to wear in the meantime.”

Spencer ran his gaze down her body. “I’ll find something for you.”

“Oh, no, that’s—” Erin stopped herself from rejecting his offer. Why give up the extra time to convince him to sign the contract? She let out a breath. “That would be great.”

He placed her heels in the sink, managing to look amused without even a hint of a smile, and gestured for her to keep moving.

Sunlight flooded in through a window in the laundry room. The washer and dryer both looked new and high-end. Above them was a row of dark wood custom cabinets. The room was narrow but well organized, with lots of shelves and hooks and hangers on the opposite wall.

“Come with me,” he said, walking past her. “You can change in the bathroom while I get something for you to wear.”

They walked into a large airy kitchen with gleaming wood floors and stainless steel appliances. The butcher-block island in the middle was the only thing that looked old.

“Is the house new?” she asked, skimming a hand over the smooth countertop. It wasn’t granite but something similar.

“No, but I had some work done. There’s the bathroom.” He nodded at a door to their left and then headed for the staircase.

She hoped he’d give her a tour later. The place looked so much more interesting than it had from the outside. The open floor plan couldn’t be part of the original layout, nor the oversize windows across the back that allowed a stunning view of the Rockies. Tastefully decorated in earth tones, it was nothing like the man cave she might’ve envisioned had she stopped to think about it.

There was some Western artwork on one wall and three framed pictures sitting on the mantel that she was dying to get a look at. But that could wait. She didn’t want him to catch her snooping.

Just after she’d stripped off the skirt and was deciding on her top, which had only a few smudges, she heard the knock at the door. She opened it a little and peeked out. He held up a robe. Not one that belonged to him. It was light pink and on the small side.

“Your wife’s?’ she asked, startled at the thought.

“It’s my mom’s. She forgot it when she visited. She won’t mind.”

Well, hell... That didn’t tell her anything. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Good.” Erin almost choked on the word. She stared at Spencer, praying there was a chance she hadn’t actually said it out loud.

His brows had risen slightly. “You want the robe or not?”

She grabbed it and shut the door.

Well, at least he wasn’t laughing. Anyway, good could mean lots of things.

She finished undressing while keeping her eyes on the folder. All she needed to worry about was getting him to give his permission to film on his land. It was easy money, for heaven’s sake. The crew would leave his property just as they found it, if not in even better condition.

By the time she’d slipped into the robe and made necessary adjustments so her bra wouldn’t show, she could smell coffee. Spencer clearly liked his brew strong.

He was standing at the kitchen sink with his back to her, and she took advantage of the moment to study his long denim-clad legs and narrow hips. Great butt, good enough to be a body double...although she’d have to see him naked to know for sure.

He turned suddenly, as if he’d sensed her watching him. His gaze took in the robe, the exposed lower half of her calves and bare feet, before motioning with his chin. “You know where the laundry room is.”

“Yep. Thanks.”

Erin had been to so many Laundromats in her twenty-eight years that she thought she’d used every model and brand of washing machine on the market.

She was so wrong.

Studying the list of different cycles was getting her more excited than was probably healthy. But she didn’t care, because this baby could do everything but make a bed. And she hadn’t even looked at the dryer yet.

“Is there a problem?”

At the sound of Spencer’s voice, she glanced at him standing in the doorway, but only briefly before she turned back to the washer. “Check this out...it has seven wash cycles and—”

“I’m aware.”

“Oh, right.” She’d already put in detergent and her clothes, set it for an extra-small load and cold water, then chose a cycle before moving over to the dryer. “As soon as I start making some real money, I’m getting a pair of these. You remember how much they cost?”

“Around thirty-five hundred, I think.”

“Dollars?” She realized what she’d said the same second he tightened his mouth. Wow, he’d almost smiled again. “Go ahead and laugh.” She turned to stroke the dryer. “I’d never have to iron again.” Erin hadn’t touched an iron in years. “Or wear wrinkled clothes.”

“If you want, there’s fabric softener and dryer sheets in the cabinet in front of you.”

She’d seen them on the shelf above the laundry detergent. Everything was so clean and orderly, it kind of made her nervous. It wasn’t that she was a slob or anything, but as soon as she’d started living out of a suitcase most of the time, her main priority was remembering to pack everything.

She opened the cabinet and knew reaching the second shelf was iffy. Even with raising herself on tiptoes, her fingertips only grazed the box of dryer sheets.

Spencer came up behind her and brought down the box. “How about the fabric softener?”

“No, thanks,” she murmured, feeling his heat against her back. He wasn’t actually touching her, but he wasn’t giving her any space, either. Experimentally, she inched back, and it was like she’d hit a brick wall. Despite his lean build, he was solid muscle.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning around to face him. Her right breast grazed his arm, and a shiver raced down her spine. Spencer backed up a step. It didn’t help. Hell, he’d have to leave the state before the flutters in her chest would stop. “How about we talk a little business while I’m waiting for my clothes?”

She’d always had a husky voice, even as a kid. But it sounded different, lower than usual, as though she might be coming down with a cold. Ignoring it, she waited for him to say something, not sure how long she’d be able to hold his piercing gaze.

The silence between them seemed to suspend time, which Erin didn’t foolishly mistake for the possibility he’d changed his mind. A sudden chill coming from him took care of the fluttering problem.

“Okay, wait,” she said, catching his arm when he turned to leave. “How about a tour of the house? Not the bedrooms or anything. Just, you know, common areas.”

He stopped to stare pointedly at her hand. “Why? So you can see if all the cameras would fit?”

Erin sighed, hating the shift in his demeanor. “Come on, you can’t blame me for trying...” she said, lowering her hand. “I know we got off to a rocky start. Completely my fault. I rushed in without explaining how it works. We’re only asking for a two-week window to access your property. None of the crew would come anywhere near you or the house—”

“I don’t blame you at all,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “In fact, if you have some other trick up your sleeve, go for it. Let’s see what you got.”

“Trick?” None of this made sense. He’d known all along why she was here. “You think I fell in the mud on purpose?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“Of course not.” She couldn’t read him. Was he teasing, or trying to distract her? “I swear to you, the land would be left in perfect condition. And the money is more than generous.” Pausing for a breath, she moistened her dry lips. “Better than the boilerplate.” She wasn’t lying. She’d nearly gotten her head chewed off for the offer she’d extended him.

His brows rose expectantly. “That’s it?”

She stared at him, thoroughly confused.

“I have to admit, I’m disappointed,” he said. “I expected something interesting. Not that it would’ve mattered. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Wait. Don’t you have any questions for me? Whatever is holding you back might not be an issue at all. At least let me try to put your concerns to rest.” She grabbed the folder off the dryer and followed him into the kitchen. “Can we do that?”

“Do what?”

“Start a discussion.”

He poured coffee into a black mug and ignored the blue one that she presumed he’d set out for her. Leaning against the counter, he took a sip while staring at her over the rim. It wasn’t so much his silence as the sudden narrowing of his eyes that unnerved her.

“What?”

“I do have a question.”

“Great,” she said, relaxing and pouring some coffee. Maybe they could come to terms after all. “Ask me anything.”

“What exactly are you prepared to do to get me to agree?”

The sugar she was lightly sprinkling into her mug slipped for a moment. It wasn’t so much his words but his tone that set off alarm bells. “I don’t think I understand the question.”

He gave her a slow smile. “I think you do.”

She really hoped he wasn’t implying what she thought... She looked up and followed his gaze to where the robe had slipped off her shoulder. The thick chenille fabric had taken her bra strap with it. Easy to assume she was naked underneath. So what? It didn’t make his remark any less insulting.

Yanking the robe back in place, she returned his smile with a much sweeter one. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and not assume you’re being a complete prick.”

* * *

SPENCER COULD SEE she was pissed. Maybe he’d gone too far. But after finding her checklist, he really hadn’t known what to think at first. She was from Hollywood. The whole thing this afternoon could’ve been staged. Despite her claim she had no interest in acting, she’d transformed herself since they last met in July. The short skirt, the hair, the makeup...all of it meant to persuade him to give in. Yet the more they’d interacted, the less inclined he was to think she was playing him.

Either way, Erin was an interesting woman. Maybe he was fooling himself, but he didn’t think he’d let on that he was attracted to her. Although he had a feeling celibacy had made him a poor judge. Even Dusty had given him a few strange looks.

“You’re right. I was being a prick,” he said, sorry she’d pulled the robe up. “That was an offensive insinuation, and I apologize.”

“Oh.” She studied him for several seconds, a slight frown tugging at her brows. “Apology accepted. So—”

“My land is still off-limits.”

She let out a breath of pure frustration. “Will you at least tell me why?”

“Why do you want it so badly? There are thousands of acres of open land around here to choose from.”

“It’s about Moonlight Mountain. Jason, the director, wants to use the west side of the mountain in the last scene.” Erin sighed. “I tried talking him out of it, but I admit I probably wasn’t very convincing. If I were directing, I’d want to shoot the final showdown there myself. The setting is perfect.”

“In your world I’m thinking the director is god.”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “This project is different, though. It’s an indie film. No big money backers. Just a bunch of us who met in film school. We pooled our resources and connections to make this happen, so we’re all invested in the film’s success. We’re hoping for a sequel. Without having to beg for backers. And best of all, at least for me,” she said, grinning, “I get to be assistant god.”

Spencer sipped his coffee to distract himself from the sparkle that turned her eyes a soft warm brown. He and Dusty had a lot of work to do before winter. So much that Spencer had actually considered hiring a couple men to help with fencing. He only had a small herd, but he didn’t want to still be out repairing fences when the snow and frigid temperatures hit, let alone have to search for any wayward cattle that might escape in the meantime.

In the end he’d decided his privacy was more important. So he’d put off expanding operations; it wasn’t easy, but he and Dusty had been tackling what needed doing from a prioritized list.

“Sorry to tell you,” he said. “You played the sympathy card for nothing.”

The warmth instantly disappeared, and she gave him a cool look. “I don’t need your sympathy. You asked and I answered. Which is more courtesy than you extended me.”

Hell, he didn’t owe her a damn thing.

“Anyway, with or without your mountain, we will succeed. This is going to be the best damn film on a shoestring budget that was ever made. One way or another, Hollywood is going to stand up and take notice. Failure isn’t an option. Not for me.”

Not much he could say to that. He’d been that young and naive once. Erin hadn’t learned enough about life yet. It had a way of sneaking up and knocking you down. He rubbed the scar on his wrist. It was a year old and already barely noticeable. He couldn’t have found a better surgeon.

If only she could have mended his career, as well. His whole future had gone straight to hell that day. No more hopes and dreams for him.

“Good luck with that,” he said, trying not to sound as cynical as he felt. “And by the way—” he dug into his jeans pocket and held out the piece of smudged paper with her list “—you dropped this.”

3

ERIN STEPPED OUT of the Food Mart into the brisk morning air and shivered from head to toe. Her medium-weight black hoodie just wasn’t cutting it anymore. It was perfect for fall, even winter, in Southern California. But not here in Blackfoot Falls.

But damned if she’d spend money on a coat. And damn Spencer Hunt’s stubborn hide. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him.

Hugging a bag of groceries to her chest, she picked up the pace across the parking lot, nodding at an older man getting out of his truck, and wishing she’d driven from the inn. Fat lot of good the exercise would do her if she ended up a Popsicle.

Just before she reached the sidewalk, the sign for the new bakery caught her eye. If she was still here tomorrow, she’d check it out. Hell, she’d probably be stuck here for another week after screwing up so badly yesterday. For now, she stayed on the right side of the street with the sun shining directly on her.

Her cell rang, and hoping it was Lila, Erin pulled her hand out from the warmth of her jeans pocket. They’d been playing phone tag since yesterday’s fiasco with Spencer.

“Finally,” Erin said. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Don’t you dare give me attitude.” Lila was normally laid-back, but she sounded grumpy. “I’m so sick of your friend Jason and the damn princess...one minute she wants hair extensions, the next she’s in my face over— Hey, did you know he’s banging her?”

“Penelope? You sure?”

“Well, they were buttoning up when they left his trailer last night. So, you tell me.”

Erin groaned. He wouldn’t be the first director to sleep with his leading lady, but dammit... “Jason is too smart for that bullshit.”

“I thought so, too, but I guess he just couldn’t resist Ms. Lane’s many charms. That woman is so impressed with herself it makes me gag.”

“I hope you’re not worried about your role in the sequel.”

Lila hesitated. “A little bit,” she admitted. “Penelope doesn’t like me.”

“Well, that’s because you’re so much prettier than she is.” Erin ignored her friend’s familiar sigh. Bias aside, it was the absolute truth. She also knew for a fact that Jason had been hot for Lila since college. “And even if they are screwing, it won’t last,” Erin said and then lowered her voice when a woman emerging from Abe’s Variety store frowned at her. “They’ll have moved on by the end of shooting. Anyway, Penelope is just a hired hand. We have equity in this project.”

“Not much.”

True. But Erin wasn’t worried. “By the way, your list and accompanying tools of the trade sucked.”

“My instructions were very detailed. What happened?”

“I hope I can get the mud out of your heels and denim skirt.”

“Mud? Ah, jeez, Erin. What did you do?”

“I fell on my ass, that’s what. And that wasn’t even the worst part. He found the list you gave me.”

After a startled squeak, Lila asked, “Why on earth did you have it with you?”

“Why do you think? To remind myself to smile and be charming.”

Lila burst out laughing. “You’re lying.”

“Like hell. He asked if I’d be willing to sleep with him to get the contract signed.”

“Well, you did say he was pretty hot.”

Erin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Because I know he didn’t come out and ask any such thing. You wouldn’t be so calm about it.”

“Ah.” Erin shivered and started moving again. “Okay, so I paraphrased, but the implication was there.”

“And you said?”

“I might’ve implied he was a prick.”

Lila sighed. “Do me a favor? Don’t tell Jason yet.”

“Tell him what? I’m not giving up. Hunt left the house before I could take another run at him. I’m going back out there later.”

“Wait. You were in his house?”

“Yep, waiting while your clothes were in the wash.” Hearing her friend’s soft whimper, Erin winced. God, they both knew better. Erin in heels? That was just begging for an accident. “Anyway, he didn’t give me time to explain about the list before he took off on horseback.” Although she doubted an explanation existed that wouldn’t end up making her sound hopeless. “I couldn’t even snoop around. Dusty, the kid who works for him, was there. He told me Spencer rarely leaves the ranch.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when a late-model silver truck passed her. For a second she thought she saw Spencer at the wheel.

“Ooh,” Lila said. “That’s why he’s so mysterious. People around town don’t know anything about him. I can’t wait to see for myself—”

A block down, the truck pulled to the curb. A man climbed out and set a tan cowboy hat on his head.

“Hey,” Erin said, cutting Lila short. “I gotta go. I think his royal hotness just made an appearance.”

She disconnected, not trusting herself to walk and talk at the same time. She couldn’t see his face, but the tall, lean body was right. So was the short dark hair. And she vaguely recalled seeing a silver truck parked near the barn yesterday.

He glanced around before closing the car door. That is, he looked just about everywhere except in her direction. So, yep, that was Spencer, and she’d bet Lila’s designer stilettos that he’d spotted her, too. He could’ve kept going, but he hadn’t, so that was promising.

Glad for her old comfy Nikes, she sped up as she watched him round the hood and then drop an envelope in the mailbox near the diner. She half expected him to go inside, but he was already retracing his steps back to the driver’s side.

“Spencer, wait,” she yelled, switching to a jog.

He paused briefly, at least long enough for her to know he’d heard, and then he opened the door.

The hell with that.

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loud enough to wake the dead. And because he’d ignored her to begin with, she added, “Yo, Spencer.”

Everyone who was out and about on Main Street turned to look.

First, they glanced at her.

And then people stared at him.

Apparently he was more interesting. Probably due to his reputation for being a hermit. She’d bet half the town knew who she was from her last visit.

A small, wiry woman wearing an oversize World’s Best Grandma sweatshirt stopped pushing a stroller to give him a once-over. Two old-timers leaving the diner eyeballed him as they dug out their chewing tobacco.

Unsmiling, Spencer nodded at the men.

Erin couldn’t see what he’d done to get the World’s Best Grandma moving. But she seemed anxious to be on her way. So did a young blonde walking her little white poodle.

“I’m surprised to see you in town,” Erin said and leaned against his ridiculously clean truck. “Did you miss me?”

Spencer bit off a startled laugh and shook his head. “Haven’t you left yet?”

“Um...” She glanced down at her beat-up Nikes and well-worn jeans. “Nope. Still here,” she said and straightened when he pulled his door open wider. “Come into the diner with me. I’ll buy you coffee. Or breakfast. Have you eaten yet? Marge makes great cinnamon rolls. And chocolate chip pancakes.”

“No, thanks.” He took off his hat and slid in behind the wheel.

“Wait.” She shot forward, laying a hand on his arm, stopping him from pulling the handle. “Spencer, please,” she said, finding herself sandwiched between him and the door. Not one of her better ideas. He smelled too damn good. His slightly parted lips were too tempting. The awareness darkening his eyes made it difficult for her to breathe. She was standing too close, but she couldn’t make herself move away.