you can use when you want. The keys are hanging on a hook in the kitchen—easy to find—and…”
Carly cut in. “Is it your car?”
“No, it’s yours. I mean, your dad bought it and…”
She broke in again. “Then it belongs to the ranch. I’ll be happy to use it with one condition. If you need it you’ll tell me so I don’t go off someday and leave you stranded.”
Jake frowned. Maybe she really didn’t intend to intrude and have everything her way while she was here. Her attitude on the car was decent and unselfish, even though he rarely drove it and she could call it her own during her visit.
“Well, that’s about it,” he said lamely. “See you later.”
Not tonight, you won’t! Since there was food in the kitchen, she would prepare her own dinner and eat alone. She was in no mood to dine with a bunch of strangers, especially male strangers. Truth was, she didn’t like men very much anymore. Her ex had really done a number on her, and if one man on this ranch leered at her, or even tried to flirt with her, she was apt to smack him.
Shutting the door after Jake had gone, she went to a window and looked out. She might not like its manager, but she could find no fault with the ranch itself. Other than the house, that is, which, if nothing else, needed a good cleaning.
But the area was quiet, peaceful and scenically beautiful. Maybe her dad had been right to suggest that she spend some time here.
Her blood stirred suddenly. However tranquil this place appeared to be, it had disturbing aspects. One, at least, that wild stallion. Had she spoken her mind clearly enough on that subject to make Banyon understand that he or any of his men had better not shoot that horse?
Agitated again, Carly knew she would not rest until she was positive that Banyon had taken her seriously. The mere idea of deliberately killing a healthy horse was appalling and she simply was not going to stand for it.
Marching from her bedroom, she went to the door of Jake’s room and knocked loudly. It opened after a minute, and she was startled to see Banyon dripping water and wearing nothing but a towel around his lower half.
Her heart sank. She should have figured out that he’d been planning on taking a shower before dinner and she most certainly should not have put them both in this embarrassing situation.
“Uh, sorry,” she stammered, looking everywhere but at him. Still, the look she’d gotten when he’d opened the door was etched on her brain. He was, without a doubt, the sexiest-looking guy she’d ever set eyes on.
She began backing away. “Sorry I—I disturbed you. I was going, uh, going to tell you something, but it…it can wait.”
Holding the towel together at his waist, Jake stepped into the hall. “Wait a minute! If you have something to tell me, go ahead and say it.”
She couldn’t do it, not with him half-naked and stirring feelings within her that she had wholeheartedly believed were dead and buried.
“Tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder as she hastened down the hall to her own bedroom. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” With her heart thumping hard, she closed the door behind herself. “Damn,” she whispered, terribly shaken over that little scene. How could she have been so dense as to not realize that he’d come to the house to clean up for dinner?
Jake stood in the hall until her bedroom door closed, wondering what that had been all about. Then he glanced down at himself and couldn’t help chuckling. Obviously his opening his bedroom door wearing just a towel had disoriented Carly, which seemed pretty funny until he visualized her opening her door half-naked.
The amusement faded from his system, and, scowling darkly, he reentered his bedroom and shut the door. The next time someone came to his room unexpectedly he’d damned well better remember who it was that could be doing the knocking.
Hordes of people paraded through Carly’s dreams that night—her ex-husband, many of her friends and…Jake Banyon. All the dreams were disturbing, but the one about Jake was the worst; he wasn’t wearing even a towel in that dream, he was stark naked!
Carly awoke in a sweat, practically gasping for air. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window she’d opened before retiring, where she sucked in huge breaths of cool night air. She was not attracted to Jake Banyon, she told herself, she wasn’t! Dreaming of him naked was perverted. What was wrong with her?
“Oh, no,” she whispered as the details of that dream became much too clear in her mind. Banyon had been fully aroused and walking toward her with shadowed eyes, and she’d been on fire and…and…
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. Why on earth would her brain devise such an erotic dream about a man she didn’t even like?
The next day, dressed in jeans and boots, with her long hair arranged in a single braid, Carly hiked around the compound, peering into barns and other outbuildings, and generally getting acquainted with the lay of the land. She found the garage and the car Jake had told her to use if she wanted, and she tried to picture him driving an ordinary car and found it hard to do. From what she’d seen of him so far, pickups and sports utility models seemed more his style. Instinct told her that his machismo was neither forced nor phony. He was so typically the western male—as portrayed in movies and novels, she thought cynically—that there was no way she could place him in any other scenario.
Moving on, she realized that there were no men about— not even one of the ranch hands. She stopped at a corral to pet a pretty palomino mare’s nose and thought of taking a ride. The mare seemed gentle and responsive to her voice and caresses, and being on a horse seemed like a wonderful way to spend a few hours.
But where were the saddles kept? There must be a tack room in one of the barns, she decided, and headed for the nearest one.
She was almost there when she heard music. She stopped to listen closer so she could determine where it was coming from. Her gaze swept the compound.
“The cookhouse,” she whispered, and veered from the barn to investigate that building. Inside was a large dining room, with numerous tables and chairs. She walked through that room to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. An older man wearing a white apron was peeling potatoes at the sink.
“Barney?” she said.
He turned around and grinned. “Ms. Paxton?”
Smiling, Carly walked in and offered her hand. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard Dad praise your cooking.”
Barney hastily turned down the radio, wiped his palm on his apron and heartily shook her hand. “That’s real nice to hear, ma’am, real nice. Your pa is a real nice gent, real nice.”
“Yes, he is, Barney, and please call me Carly.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll do that.”
Carly had to smile again. “It smells very good in here.”
“That’s cause I’ve got some cakes in the oven. Uh, everyone knows you arrived yesterday, but what did you do, eat alone in that big empty house last night?”
“Yes, I really didn’t feel like company.”
“Well,
