Rich, Rugged Ranchers. Kathie DeNosky

all but ran up the back stairs to get her computer.

      He was alone with Thalia. That realization left him with an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. This was his chance—maybe his only chance—to tell her off. He was tired of feeling out of place in his own home. It was time to return the favor.

      When she swung those long legs off the stool to head toward the oven, he made his move. He grabbed her arm so hard that she spun into his chest with a squeak. And just like that, they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest.

      Big, huge mistake. Her breasts pressed against his chest with little regard to the two layers of sweaters that stood between them. With her boots on, her face was only a few inches below his, and when she looked up into his eyes, he realized how little space separated his mouth from hers.

      “What are you doing here?” Besides driving him to distraction, that was. His body strained to respond to the light scent of strawberries that hung around her. She smelled good enough to eat.

      Down, boy.

      “I came back to see Minnie.” Her voice trembled a little as she pushed on his chest with her hands. Not hard—not enough to drive them apart—but enough to make him loosen his grip.

      “It won’t work.”

      “What won’t?” She had the nerve to look innocent. That made him mad again, which distracted him from the pressure building behind his jeans’ zipper.

      “You’re trying to get Minnie to convince me to take the part. It won’t work.”

      He had her full attention—and that was becoming a problem. Her eyes were wide open, her lips were barely parted. All he’d have to do would be to lower his head without letting go of her. Did she taste as sweet as she smelled?

      She angled her head to one side a little. Her hair tipped off her shoulders, exposing the curve of her neck. Her hands, which had been flat on his chest, curved at the fingers, as if she was trying to hold on to him, trying to pull him in closer.

      Against his every wish, his head began to dip. He could not kiss her; he could not be turned on by her; he could not be interested in her—but he was. She was going to ruin the life he’d made, and he almost didn’t care. It was almost worth the way she looked at him, soft and innocent and waiting to be kissed.

      Almost.

      “Did Levinson tell you to seduce me? Is that it?”

      Indignant color flooded her cheeks as everything inviting about her burned up in the heat of her glare. J.R. wasn’t all that surprised when she pushed him back and slapped his face all at once. “I’m not his whore.” Her voice was level, cold—as if she were in complete control of the situation.

      The way she hissed the words made it pretty clear that J.R. had finally, finally gotten under her skin. And it was still possible that her fury was an act, a cover for a seduction gone wrong.

      So why did he feel like crap? “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t put it past Levinson.”

      “I’m not Levinson.”

      That fact was abundantly clear. He wished Minnie would come back so he could return to safely sulking instead of insulting Thalia’s honor. But as there weren’t any footsteps on the stairs, he might as well go for broke. “Why do you need me so bad? Actors are a dime a dozen.”

      It was only after he said it that he realized his words could be taken at least two different ways. He felt his face get hot. Luckily, she looked down at the floor, so she didn’t see it.

      She almost said something, he realized—but stopped short. Finally, she said, “People are curious about you. They’d pay money to find out what happened to you,” in the same cold tone of voice.

      And just like that, J.R. was again a commodity to be bought and sold. That unavoidable fact took what interest he had in this woman and buried it six feet under. “I’m not going to take the part, not now, not ever.” Part of her face shut down, but not before he caught a glimpse of her disappointment. “And I don’t care what Minnie says—you aren’t welcome here.”

      A gasp from behind him didn’t do much to break the tension. “J.R.! What did you say?”

      This entire situation was spinning out of control, and fast. Her laptop clutched to her chest, Minnie skirted around him and rushed to Thalia saying, “Are you okay?” When Thalia nodded, Minnie fixed him with a glare that could melt glass. “Apologize to our guest, J.R.”

      Thalia’s lower lip quivered—not much, but enough to make him feel like a first-class heel. He should have stuck by his original plan of not talking, but he wasn’t backing down.

      “I will do no such thing. This is my home, my land and trespassers will be shot.”

      Minnie’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly J.R. recalled the time when, more than half-drunk, Hoss had confided that his mother once overpowered him as a teen to keep him from going out with some gang members. Right now, she looked like she was going to take him down and it was going to hurt.

      “Fine. Fine.” He knew he was way overreacting, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was the boss around here, for God’s sake, and no one seemed to be able to remember that. “She can stay for dinner. I’ll leave. But when I get back, she better be gone—for good this time. Do I make myself clear?”

      He didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed his coat and hat and made damn sure to slam the door behind him.

      He’d almost kissed her.

      What a mess.