What The Rancher Wants.... Lucy Monroe
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Between Lonny’s glares and Win’s bedroom eyes, she was at her wit’s end.
Win never implied that her job was even slightly reliant on her sleeping with him, but then again he made no bones about the fact that he wanted her in his bed. He hadn’t actually come out and said so, but he watched her with a hot gaze that made her insides melt. It didn’t help that he found more excuses than a student with spring fever did to skip class, to get close to her.
Just yesterday he had insisted on helping her get a large ceramic bowl down from the top shelf in the pantry. That would have been fine except that he didn’t allow her to move out of the way before his strong, masculine body was stretching up and leaning over her to reach the bowl. Again, no problem.
Except that the effect Win’s closeness had on her senses couldn’t be denied. She’d forgotten for one full minute what she’d been planning to do and just stood there, breathing in his scent. He’d noticed. Darn him. And he’d laughed. No doubt he thought she was like a plump peach, ripe and ready to be picked off the tree.
She sighed and cut some more shortening into the flour for the biscuits she was preparing to go with dinner.
She didn’t want to quit.
She liked her new job. Shorty might not know much about cooking, but he was a sweetheart. She liked the rest of the ranch hands as well…except Lonny. She enjoyed cooking for them and Win was a tidy person. Keeping his house clean was a cinch, especially with the help of maid service that came in three times a week. Mondays and Wednesdays and once on the weekend.
She liked everything about working at the Bar G except the way its owner made her feel.
Dealing with an interested male shouldn’t be so difficult. Men had been interested in her since she started wearing a bra, but Win was different. She had an almost overwhelming desire to give in to the invitation she saw in his eyes and that scared her spitless. He’d made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in marriage and she hadn’t changed her mind about an affair. First, because she believed that she deserved more than that and second, because no school board for a small town like Sunshine Springs was going to hire a teacher with a reputation for loose morals. Gossip always got around.
Awareness skittered down her spine and she spun around, dropping the pastry cutter into the ceramic bowl with a clang.
Win leaned against the wall watching her. He did a lot of that, leaning against a wall or something and just watching her. It made her nervous and hot and jittery besides, something she definitely didn’t want to deal with.
She forced a smile to her lips. “Hi.”
He pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. She started getting nervous again as the distance between them closed to less than a few inches.
She backed up, but ran into the counter behind her. “Win?”
He reached out and brushed her cheek. “I thought the flour was for the biscuits.”
“It is.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She couldn’t seem to move away either.
“It’s not real attractive makeup, but on you it’s kinda cute.”
“No.” Then understanding dawned. She whipped her hands up and scrubbed at her cheeks, getting rid of any remaining flour Win hadn’t brushed away with his hand. “I didn’t realize I was wearing dinner.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.
“What?” Was it just that his proximity had scrambled her brains, or was he really not making any sense?
His voice dropped to a husky drawl. “I wouldn’t mind you wearing my dinner.”
As the words registered Carlene felt her blood spike with both anger and desire. She forced the anger to the forefront. Placing her hands on Win’s chest, she shoved. Hard. He fell back a couple of paces.
She untied the big white apron she wore to protect her clothes with jerky movements. She yanked it off and tossed it on the table. “That’s it. I quit.”
When Win didn’t say anything, particularly, “I’m sorry and won’t you please stay?” she reached her hand out and poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “Listen here, Mr Bedroom Eyes. I’ve had my fill of you watching me like I’m a mare in heat and you’re the stallion sent to cover me. Do you understand me?”
His smile infuriated her. “I think so.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Just what do you understand?”
“You don’t want me to look at you like I want you.”
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, what?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Are you going to stop?”
He reached out and brushed his fingers down her arm. Desire pooled in her lower belly and she bit back a groan. “I don’t know if I can. I do want you, Carlene. I’m not real sure why that bothers you so much. I haven’t pushed you to do anything about it, have I?”
She had to give him that. “No. You haven’t, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? You don’t like feeling like you want me too? I can fix that for you, honey.”
The promise in his voice made her shiver with feelings she did not want to acknowledge or give in to. “Forget it. I’m not interested in a one-night stand and that’s all you’re offering, isn’t it, Win? You don’t want marriage or commitment.”
His fingers curled around her upper arm. “I made my feelings on marriage plain the day I interviewed you, but there’s a whole lot of ground between a one-night stand and marriage. I never said I wasn’t interested in any kind of commitment. I can guarantee you that while you share my bed, no one else will.”
“An affair?” Outrage burned through her and she twisted from his grasp. “You think a no-strings, open ended affair is an appreciable improvement over a one-night stand?”
His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to convince me that you’ve married every man you’ve slept with.”
The warmth of desire she had been feeling shifted to a frozen sort of pain. Win was like all the others, making assumptions based on how she looked and not who she was. Wouldn’t he just die laughing if he found out that she was a twenty-six-year-old virgin? She might look like a pinup in a girlie calendar, but she’d fought against the image her entire life.
She dated very little, in high school because she had been more interested in her studies than in boys and in college because once the men she dated figured out that she didn’t put out, they went looking for greener pastures. She had planned to change her innocent status a while ago with Grant Strickland, a truly nice man.
She had decided the time had come. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, her timing had been off. Grant had been in love with another woman and hadn’t been interested. She still felt the heat of embarrassment when she considered how she’d thrown herself at the man. She had truly lousy instincts when it came to men she was attracted to.
And Win was no exception. Their situation made her want to cry. He affected her as no other man ever had, including Grant, but she wasn’t willing to risk her reputation and her goals for something as transitory as an affair, especially an affair with a man who made it clear that long-term commitment would never be an option.
She moved to the door.
She couldn’t stay here. She wanted Win too much. The risk was too great. Grabbing her purse from the broom cupboard, she said, “You can send my check in the mail.”
She had to get out of there before her resolve to keep a lid on her emotions faltered.
Her hand was on the knob to open the door when his fingers clamped around her wrist in a vicelike grip.