Kiss Me

She started to ask why, if he and his father hadn’t been tight, Zane bothered to keep the goats, but before she could, one of the kids walked up to the fence and rubbed its head on the corner post.

Phoebe instantly dropped to her knees. “Hi, baby. How are you?” She stuck her fingers through the metal fencing to pet the little guy. The soft fur, or fleece, or hair or whatever it was delighted her. Right before amazingly strong teeth clamped around her fingers.

She screamed. The loud noise frightened the kid into releasing her, and she jerked her fingers back through the fence. Before she could study the damage, Zane grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. He took her hand in his and examined the injury.

Several things occurred to her at once. First—that they’d never stood this close together before. He was so big, tall and broad that he made her feel positively delicate by comparison. Second—for a man who had spent his morning on a horse, he smelled really good. All clean and woodsy. Third—the instant his fingers touched her, the pain miraculously vanished. Talk about amazing.

“Skin’s not broken,” he said as he turned over her hand. “Tell me if this hurts.”

He bent her fingers back and forth. His warmth sent sizzling jolts of awareness slip-sliding all through her body. Despite the heat filling her, something was wrong with her lungs because it was impossible to breathe. He touched her gently, as if he didn’t want to hurt her.

The logical part of her brain turned cynical, announcing that he was simply concerned about a lawsuit by a goat-bitten city girl. The romantic side of her suddenly understood all those country songs about cowboys. What was it that country star Lacey Mills had sung? “Go ahead, cowboy. Rope me in.” It was a brief battle, with romance emerging victorious.

Whatever emotional distance she might have been able to maintain was lost the second Zane lightly squeezed her hand and smiled. She’d never seen him smile before. If she’d been able to breathe, he would have taken her breath away.

“I think you’ll live,” he said. “Just stay away from the goats.”

“Okay.”

The single word was the best she could do under the circumstances. Zane continued to look at her. Even better, he kept her hand in his, his thumb rubbing up and down the length of her fingers. Over and over. Up and down. It was very rhythmic. And sexual.

Her thighs took on a life of their own, getting all hot and shaking slightly. Her mouth went dry, her breasts were jealous of the attention her hand was getting and her hormones were singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Obviously she needed intensive therapy...or maybe just sex.

Zane’s eyes darkened. The muscles in his face tightened, and he stared at her with a hawkish expression. Had he been anyone else, she would have sworn that he’d just had a physical awakening of his own. Awareness crackled around them, like self-generated lightning. The tightness in her chest eased just enough for her to suck in a breath, which was really good, because the next second it all came rushing out again when he kissed her.

Just like that. With no warning, Zane Nicholson bent his head and claimed her mouth.

It wasn’t a movie-perfect kiss. They didn’t magically melt into each other. Instead their noses bumped, and somehow the hand still holding hers got trapped between them. But all that was fairly insignificant when compared with the intense, sensual heat generated by the pressure of his lips on hers.

That part was exactly right. Not too hard, not too soft. When he moved against her, need shot through her body. Had she been breathing again, she would have whimpered. Had he tried to pull away, she would have fallen at his feet and begged him not to stop.

Somehow he released her hand and pulled his free. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against him so her entire body pressed against his. The man was a rock. Big, unyielding and warmed by the sun. She wanted to snuggle even closer. She wanted to rip off her clothes and give the goats something to talk about. She wanted—

He licked her lower lip.

The unexpected moist heat made her gasp as fire raced through her. Every singed nerve ending vibrated with need for more. The masculine, slightly piney scent of him surrounded her. Operating only on instinct, she parted her lips to allow him entry. She had a single heartbeat to brace herself for the power of his tongue touching hers. Then he swept inside and blew her away.

It was like being inside the space shuttle on takeoff. Phoebe might not have any personal experience with space flight, but she could imagine. The powerful force between them left her weak and clinging to his broad shoulders. She trembled and needed and ached with equal intensity.

His tongue brushed against hers again. He tasted of coffee and mint and something wonderfully sensual and sweet. His mouth seemed designed for kissing. Maybe it was all that non-conversation. Maybe talking too much undermined a man’s ability to kiss. She didn’t know and didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he stroked her, touched her, teased her. He cupped her head with one hand and ran his other up and down her back. If only this moment would never end.

But it did. A sharp bark from somewhere in the distance brought Phoebe back to earth with a rude thunk. She suddenly became aware of being pressed up against a really good-looking stranger, kissing in front of a goat pen. Apparently Zane got a similar wake-up call, because he stepped back at the same second she did. At least the man was breathing hard. She would hate to think she was the only one who had been affected.

“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 every day. You’ll have to write up a schedule for the men. Have Cookie plan a menu this afternoon.”

Frank’s eyes widened. He looked as if someone had just run over his favorite dog. “Boss, you’re not taking Cookie with you.”

It was more of a plea than a question. “No one else can cook for shit. What am I supposed to feed them?”

“But without Cookie, one of the boys will have to cook for those of us left behind.”

“There’s enough stuff frozen to get everyone through a week.”

“Ah, jeez.” Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Why’d you have to take Cookie with you?”

Zane ignored the question. Frank knew he was stuck on the ranch. With Zane gone, Frank would be in charge.

“I’ll have the two-way radios with me. With the new tower in place, you’ll be able to reach me any time.”

Frank was still grumbling about losing the ranch cook for a week.

“Want to trade?” Zane asked flatly.

His foreman pressed his lips together. They both knew taking ten novice riders out on a fake cattle drive through wilderness was nothing short of five kinds of hell. June weather was usually good, but there was always the possibility of a freak snowstorm, a sizable flash flood, spooked cattle, bears, runaway horses, snakebite and saddle sores.

Frank slapped him on the back. “You have a fine time out there, boss. The boys and I will keep things running back here.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”

CHAPTER SIX

PHOEBE STRETCHED OUT on her bed, aimlessly flipping channels on the television. Despite the fact there was a sci-fi marathon on one channel, Sleepless in Seattle on another and some really great fake diamond earrings on QVC, nothing held her interest. She told herself it was because she was in unfamiliar surroundings. Or maybe it was the fact that except for the cowboy who had delivered her dinner on a tray at six-thirty, she hadn’t seen another living being. Well, not a biped. From her window she could see countless cattle, a few horses and even a couple of dogs.

But she knew none of that really mattered. The reason she was restless, edgy and more than a little unsettled had nothing to do with her lack of company and everything to do with a soul-stirring kiss she’d experienced that morning. Strange men were not supposed to be able to elicit that kind of a response from her. She’d always been a kiss on the second date, sex in the third or fourth month kind of gal. More than one potential boyfriend had become frustrated and ended things because she wasn’t ready to bare all by week four.

The first time it had happened, she’d been heartbroken. The second time, she’d been resigned. In her world, making love needed to be a significant event. She was interested in emotional connection, not volume. Which put her out of step with a lot of guys she met in LA, but that was okay. She wasn’t going to find the sense of belonging she desperately wanted by jumping into bed every fifteen minutes. Which was all really interesting, but not the least bit helpful in explaining her reaction to Zane.

If he’d tossed her to the ground and started ripping off her clothes, instead of being outraged, she would have helped. She would have done it right there, in front of God and the goats. The big question was why?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She flipped off the TV, then sat up. She’d returned her dinner tray to the kitchen, so it was unlikely anyone was here to bus her dishes. Which left one of two possibilities for her visitor. Chase or Zane.

In her mind, it wasn’t even a close vote. She crossed her fingers and walked to the door. When she pulled it open, she fully expected to see Chase standing in the hallway, because that was how her luck was running these days. Yet the man in front of her was tall, good-looking and had a mouth, she knew from personal experience, that could reduce grown women who should know better to puddles of liquid desire.

She blinked and wondered when the finger-crossing technique had actually started working.

“Evening,” Zane said.

It was a pretty wordy opening for him.

Phoebe debated inviting him in, then decided it would be too much like an offer to sleep with him. Instead of stepping back and pointing to the bed, which was really what she wanted to do, she moved into the hallway, shutting the door behind her, and did her best to look unimpressed.

“Hi, Zane. How are the preparations coming?”

He gave her one of his grunts, then shrugged. She took that to mean, “Great. And thanks so much for asking.”

They weren’t standing all that close, but she was intensely aware of him. Despite the fact that he’d probably been up at dawn and that it was now close to ten, he still smelled good. He wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat, so she could see his dark hair. Stubble defined his jaw. She wanted to rub her hands over the roughness, then maybe hook her leg around his hip and slide against him like the sex-starved fool she was turning out to be.

“Maya’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “Elaine Mitchell is bringing her out to the ranch with all of the greenhorns in her tourist bus.”

She had to clear her throat before speaking. “Maya called me about an hour ago to let me know she’d be getting here about three.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest, then leaned sideways against the doorjamb beside her. So very close. Her attention fixed on the strong column of his neck, and a certain spot just behind his jaw that she had a sudden urge to kiss. Would it be warm? Would she feel his pulse against her lips?

“She doesn’t need to know what happened,” Zane said.

Phoebe couldn’t quite make sense of his words, and he must have read the confusion in her eyes. They were alone, it was night and the man seemed to be looming above her in the hallway. She’d never thought she would enjoy being loomed over, but it was actually very nice. She had the feeling that if she suddenly saw a mouse or something, she could shriek and jump, and he would catch her. Of course he would think she was an idiot, but that was beside the point.

“Between us,” he explained. “Outside. She doesn’t need to know about the kiss.”

A flood of warmth rushed to her face as she understood that he regretted kissing her. She instinctively stepped backward, only to bump her head against the closed bedroom door. Before she had time to be embarrassed about her lack of grace or sophistication, he groaned, reached for her hips and drew her toward him.

“She doesn’t need to know about this one, either.”

His lips took hers with a gentle but commanding confidence. Her hands settled on either side of the strong neck she’d been eyeing only seconds ago. His skin was as warm as she’d imagined it would be. The cords of his muscles moved against her fingers as he tilted his head to a better angle.

His hands were still, except his thumbs, which brushed her hip bones, slow and steady. His fingers splayed over the narrowest part of her waist and nearly met at the small of her back. She wished she could feel his fingertips against her skin, but her thin cotton top got in the way.

He kept her body at a frustrating distance from his. In fact, when she tried to move closer, he held her away even as he continued the kiss. Lips on lips. Hot and yielding. She waited for him to deepen the kiss, but he didn’t. And she couldn’t summon the courage to do it herself. Finally, he drew back and rested his forehead against hers for a long moment.

“Do me a favor,” he said. “Try to be a little more resistible. I don’t think I can take a week of this.”

Then he turned on his heel, walked to a door at the end of the long hallway, and went inside. She stood in place, her fingers pressed against her still-tingling lips. More than a minute passed before she realized she was smiling.

* * *

PHOEBE HOVERED SLIGHTLY behind Zane in front of the Nicholson Ranch house, watching a cheerfully painted bus chugging along the winding entrance road. As it got closer, the tinny music coming from the speaker mounted on top increased in volume. It sounded like an ice-cream truck. Chase stood by the goat pens, well out of his brother’s reach. She couldn’t blame him for being nervous. Zane’s annoyance with the fake cattle-drive situation seemed to be growing as the bus approached.

She tried not to notice how good Zane looked in his cowboy hat and jeans, but she couldn’t seem to help cataloging his impressive features.

Okay, day one his appeal had been interesting. Day two it had been amusing, but this was day three. She needed to get over him, already. Sexual attraction had never been a big part of her life. Sure, she enjoyed the physical perks of a romantic relationship as much as anyone, but she’d never sought them out. To her, the emotional connection was so much more important than the act. So why did she practically have a hot flash every time she was around Zane?

She had a feeling that Maya would be able to offer sound advice. The only downside was having to admit the problem in the first place. Not only was Zane Maya’s ex-stepbrother, which made things sort of weird, but Maya had been the one preaching Zane as a distraction. If Phoebe admitted to her attraction, Maya would gloat about being right and tease Phoebe unmercifully. Maybe it would be easier to allow her questions to go unanswered.

Before she could decide, the bus pulled to a stop in front of them. A mural of downtown Fool’s Gold had been painted in primary colors on the side of the bus, with “Mitchell Adventure Tours” emblazoned just above the windows. The door at the front opened with a whoosh.

A young girl rushed down the steps yelling, “It’s them. Real cowboys.”

Zane muttered under his breath to Chase, who had joined them. “You’ve got little kids involved in this mess?”

Behind her, a small boy and their parents disembarked. The parents seemed to be in their early forties, while the kids were both under twelve. Phoebe found herself playing hostess. She wasn’t surprised by Zane’s reticence, but Chase could usually be counted on to be a charmer. Maybe the reality of what he’d done was sinking in.

“Thad and C. J. Swanson,” the tall blond man introduced himself. “This is Lucy and her brother, Tommy.”

The kids didn’t look anything like their fair-haired parents. Tommy was painfully thin, with long legs and dark, shaggy hair. Lucy shared her brother’s coloring, but instead of being long legged, she was petite and delicate-looking, with a full, rosebud mouth. Both kids had skin that was the most beautiful shade of caramel.

“You two must be excited that your parents brought you on a cattle drive,” Phoebe said.

The girl, Lucy, shook her head. “They’re not our parents. We don’t have parents. Are we going to eat soon? Tommy and I didn’t have breakfast or lunch today.”