The Rancher And The City Girl. Kathy Douglass

that. Camille was changing that—changing him—simply by being around.

      Her long legs were driving him crazy. He didn’t like noticing her slender curves or the way her breasts rose when she took a deep breath. Watching her nibble on her bottom lip had the potential to send him sailing over the edge of reason.

      He’d always known his sexual desire would return one day. He just hadn’t expected Camille Parker to be the one to awaken it. The ferocity also startled him. He wasn’t worried that his emotions would return or that his heart would open to Camille. He’d buried his heart with Jeanette. But still, there was no need to risk it. He couldn’t survive another heartbreak.

      After brushing Diablo, leading him to his stall and making sure he had fresh water, Jericho returned to the house. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but he was man enough to admit when he’d done wrong. Camille wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. But hadn’t he practically banned her from the common areas of the house? Regret gnawed at his insides as he climbed the stairs to the second floor.

      The door to the guest room was closed. He knocked softly. No response. He knocked again, this time more loudly. Still she didn’t answer. Now he was the one shut out. Talk about poetic justice. After an internal debate about the propriety of opening her door without her permission, he turned the knob.

      “Camille?” He called quietly in case she was asleep. He opened the door an inch and peeked inside. Her perfectly made-up bed was empty. He stepped inside and looked around. There was no sign of her. Surely she wouldn’t have left. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. It wasn’t safe for her to use her credit cards. He’d been too angry to ask if she had cash. He had to find her and bring her back before she put herself in danger. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

      Cursing himself for being a thoughtless jerk, he raced down the stairs and out the back, crossed the grassy field, then yanked open the door of his shed. Her car remained where he’d parked it. A relieved breath whooshed from his chest. At least she had the good sense not to run away.

      He closed and locked the door, then went through the house and to the front porch. Sitting down in one of the two wooden rockers that had been on the far corner of the porch for as long as he could remember, he set the chair in motion. He’d grown up hearing how his grandfather had carved them for his grandmother after she’d caught him talking with her main rival at the high school Christmas dance. After that, she’d ignored him for months. He’d shown up on her birthday with the two rockers and a marriage proposal. The apology gift had worked, and they’d married the week after graduation. Jericho rubbed his hand over the smooth wood that had stood the test of time and three generations of endless rocking and wondered if there was any more magic in the chairs.

      The day was bright and sunny, and from his position he could see clear across his property to the road nearly a mile away. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d simply sat here and let the warmth of the day wash over him and take his cares away. He didn’t feel quite at peace, but that was fine. Peace was no longer something he sought or even deserved. Getting through the day without breaking down was enough for him.

      Twenty minutes later he heard barking followed by feminine laughter. He scanned the area and watched as Camille and Shadow came into view. She threw a stick and Shadow chased it. A few seconds later the dog ran back to Camille. She reached for the branch, and the dog backed away. Then, treasure clasped firmly in his jaws, the dog ran a short distance away. He dropped the stick, raced back to Camille and sat on his haunches.

      Camille laughed and rubbed the dog. “You’re still missing the point. You’re supposed to give the stick to me so I can throw it again.”

      Shadow barked, then ran in circles around the yard. Fetch was beyond his mental abilities. Camille went over to the stick and bent to pick it up again. Her skirt tightened over her round bottom, and Jericho’s breath caught in his throat.

      She turned and saw him. Even from a distance he noticed the way she stiffened and let the stick slip from her fingers. She continued toward the house slowly. The bubble of joy that had surrounded her mere seconds earlier popped. No doubt about it, she was uncomfortable around him.

      He descended the front steps and walked in her direction. Shadow spotted him and raced over, his tail wagging. The dog circled Jericho, and then the traitor raced back to Camille.

      She was barefoot and her shoes were dangling from her fingers. The heat must have gotten to her because she’d untucked her blouse and knotted the ends around her waist, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach. His mouth went dry at the sight, and he quickly looked away. He didn’t understand how he could be aroused by a woman he didn’t even like.

      “I went for a walk. You didn’t say I couldn’t.” Her chin jutted out defiantly, but the wariness in her eyes belied her confidence.

      He’d never heard her sound so uncertain, and guilt smacked him like a fist to his jaw. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

      Her eyes widened in apparent surprise, making him feel like an even bigger jerk. He didn’t want her to be shocked that he could be courteous.

      “Actually, yes. My walk gave me the opportunity to clear my head and think about things. I realize that I owe you an apology. I’m so sorry for barging into your home and overstepping my bounds. I see now how upsetting that can be.”

      He raised his hand to stop her. “No. If anyone should apologize it’s me. I was wrong to tear into you like that. You were being thoughtful and I was an ungrateful jerk. Please forgive me.”

      She nodded but continued to stare at him. Clearly there was more she wanted to say, but she was unsure whether to take the risk. Having another person around was going to be a lot harder than he thought. “You have something to say?”

      “About dinner.” She nibbled on her lip. “I know you don’t want me cooking for you, but you have to eat. I already took something out of the freezer to cook. Before... If you would prefer, we can eat separately.”

      “That’s not necessary.”

      “But we need to eat.”

      “I meant the part about eating separately. We can eat dinner together like we did breakfast.” It had been a stilted, awkward affair he’d hoped never to repeat, but she was in fear for her life. If sharing meals was what it took for her to become more at ease, then that’s what he would do.

      No matter how much he hated it.