Free Every Breath She Takes by Norah Wilson

I guess I can understand.”
    His smile started slow, then spread over his face. “Saints be praised. A woman who can admit she’s wrong.”
    The smile was devastating. Because she felt dangerously close to grinning foolishly back at him, she turned away, picked up the carton of eggs from the counter and shoved them at him. He accepted them reflexively.
    “You still owe me an egg. Easy over, one slice of toast. I’m gonna go pack.”
    His surprised bark of laughter followed her into the bedroom, where she had trouble wiping the grin off her own face as she regarded her reflection in the mirror. Lord, the man couldmake her insides melt with a mere smile. Imagine the kind of fire he could start if he really tried.
    The face in the mirror sobered. In the interests of her mission, she sincerely hoped he wouldn’t try.
    At least the rational part of her mind hoped he wouldn’t. Unfortunately, the rest of her longed to taste him. She studied her own eyes in the mirror and read the truth—the urge to press her body against his was growing. What had started as a pulse of awareness had swelled to a drumbeat in her blood.
    God help her, she didn’t think she could resist him.

    Cal pulled the brim of his hat down against the glare of the sun. So far the trip back to the ranch had been quiet. Marlena’d been spitting mad about being made to vomit in front of lover boy, and her mood hadn’t improved when she found out her drugs had been confiscated. She had since graduated to full-fledged seething, but at least she was doing it quietly. Brady was subdued as a whipped puppy, and Lauren was in her own world.
    For a change, Cal’s mind wasn’t on Lauren as he followed the small train of riders. For once it was where it belonged, on the herd. The cattle were in the high pasture now and would be until fall when the men rode out to round them up and drive them back to the homestead. It was a dusty, miserable job driving cattle, yet Cal couldn’t wait. He loved that part of ranching.
    The summerlong race to put up enough winter feed to see the cattle through until spring wasn’t so wonderful, though. It was hard, endless work, but he’d take it over babysitting doctor-cowboys and lawyer-cowboys any day.
    Hell, he’d take it over managing the ranch, or at least the business end. He liked the office part little enough to begin with, but now, with the big agribusinesses moving in and further destabilizing things, he was really starting to hate it.
    It was just like his daddy said when Cal had left home for good at the age of sixteen. “You’ll never amount to nothin’, boy, ’cause you can’t settle to nothin’. You’ll wind up broken in that damned rodeo you love so much, or busting your hump for wrangler’s wages.”
    Well, the bulls hadn’t done him in, and he paid the wages around here as opposed to collecting them, but his father had been right about one thing. He was a wrangler at heart, not a cattle baron.
    But just because the old man had been right in some respects didn’t mean Cal couldn’t prove him wrong about the rest. He’d make a success of this ranch if it killed him.
    “Cal,” Brady called, dragging him out of the past. “Rider at two o’clock.”
    “I see him.” Brady had stopped, and the others pulled up too. Cal reined in Sienna, cursing as the rider on the handsome palomino changed course to intercept them. Just what he needed to cap the day. He shot a glance at Brady. The kid’s face was stony, eyes hard. Clearly he recognized the rider now.
    “Well, come on,” Cal growled. “Let’s keep moving. It’s not a ghost rider. Just my neighbor, Harvey McLeod.”
    Cal’s irritation grew as Harvey closed the gap between them. White Stetson, white hair, white teeth—he looked like a Hollywood cowboy. A Hollywood cowboy who coveted Cal’s ranch.
    “’Morning, Cal,” called the other man.
    “McLeod.” Cal nodded an acknowledgment. “You looking for me or are you just lost?”
    Harvey