Love is a Four Letter Word. Zara Stoneley
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“Your choice.”
Don’t rush it. Play hard to get for once. Count to ten, well five. “Four weeks. And I’d need to work it round my other jobs.”
“I know. But it’s six weeks, I’ve got jobs lined up that need clearing before the weather gets tricky. Take it or leave it. I’m sure I can find someone else if you’re not interested.”
“Five weeks,” wait for it, don’t lose it now, “but I need you to do something else as well.” She wasn’t going to smile, not yet.
“Five weeks without the something else, six weeks with.”
Shit, since when had bad boy Jake turned into Mr Unyielding businessman? “Done.” She held out a hand before he could change the rules, ask about the something else.
“And I get to do the horny look whenever I want.” He moved off the fence, wrapped his warm, firm fingers around hers and she stared straight into those mossy eyes. Oh yeah, she could cope with the horny look. “And to think about you being my unwilling slave.”
“Do all the thinking you like buster. I do the six weeks, we do the shoot here and,” she resisted the urge to cling onto his hand, “you are in the frame.” She tried not to giggle or whoop.
***
“And what the hell does that mean?” Jake knew he was frowning, and had a horrible feeling he was glaring. He’d come up with the stupid deal on the spur of the moment, not really thinking, just sure that working with the horses would be beneath her. At school she’d been different. Quiet, unassuming, despite the fact that her family obviously had more money to throw around than he’d ever see in a lifetime. But she’d changed, hardened and he didn’t know how deep it went. He’d admired the way she’d handled her horse, but not been under any illusions, for all he knew she’d had an army of grooms at her disposal. But, he wanted her to know that getting what you want sometimes had strings attached. He wasn’t the pushover she was used to, however much she batted her eyelids and thrust those slim hips his way. She was desperate to use this place, he’d seen it in the clenched fists, the casual tone that wasn’t. Which struck him as odd and he had to admit he was curious, even though he had a rule never to be curious about anything.
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