A Ranching Man. Linda Turner
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the night!”
“So now it’s my fault for being considerate? I didn’t want to wake you, dammit!”
“Well, you did!”
“Well, excuse me for breathing. Next time, I’ll come stomping in so you’ll be sure to know it’s me. Will that make you happy?”
“As a clam.”
“Fine!”
Seething, they glared at each other like two eight-year-olds facing off in the playground across a line drawn in the dirt. It was a fight neither of them could win. Frustrated, Joe swore and turned to storm into his bedroom. A split second after he slammed his door, he heard the echo of Angel’s across the hall.
Tearing off his clothes, he let them lay where they fell and crawled into bed, determined to forget the entire incident and go right to sleep. But long after the dust settled in the hall and the silence of the night crept back into the house, sleep eluded him. Because every time he closed his eyes, he could see the awareness in Angel’s eyes right before he kissed her, taste the sweetness of her on his tongue, feel the soft, enticing curve of her breasts pressed against his chest as he’d wrapped her close in his arms. Furious with her, he tried to convince himself it had been too long since he’d had a woman, that he would have reacted the same to any female who appeared before him in her nightgown, but his body wasn’t buying it. There was only one woman he ached for tonight, dammit, and like it or not, that was Angel Wiley.
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