The Rancher's Request. Stella Bagwell
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Yeah, Juliet thought dourly. And in his case, she just happened to be the little.
Out in the parking lot of the Sunset Manor, several yards away from Juliet’s car, Matt Sanchez killed the engine to his truck and reached for the door handle at the same time. As usual, he was in a hurry. A cattle buyer was going to meet him at the Sandbur in less than one hour. He was going to have to break the speed limit to make the meeting in time.
He should have asked Cordero to pick up Gracia. In Matt’s opinion, his younger brother didn’t visit their father enough. But Mingo would be expecting his eldest son to show up and Matt didn’t want to disappoint his father. Short visits from friends and family was all the man had to look forward to.
What the hell?
Matt’s hand paused on the door of the truck as his gaze fastened on the woman and girl walking down the steps of the building. It was that Dallas woman with his daughter!
What was she doing here? And why the hell hadn’t she taken heed of the warning to stay away from his family?
Matt’s first instinct was to burst out of the truck and interrupt the little tête-à-tête going on between the newspaperwoman and his daughter, but he desperately quelled the urge. Gracia was just now coming round to him after that incident in the yard on the day of the wedding. He didn’t want to embarrass her again. Juliet Madsen had been right about that and the fact that he’d been thinking more about his own feelings than his daughter’s. It had taken two days of the silent treatment from Gracia to make him admit such a thing to himself, but damned if he would ever apologize to the sexy blonde. She’d probably take pleasure in laughing at him.
Before he knew it, his gaze was traveling up and down her body, appreciating, in spite of himself, the full, luscious curves encased in a black jersey top and a pair of gray slacks. She was not a willowy, fragile woman by any means and he realized her lusty shape did more than stir the man in him. Each time he laid eyes on the woman, he felt an instant fire in his loins. It didn’t make sense. Especially since Erica had died, he’d not even wanted a woman.
But having Juliet against him, even for those few moments, had burned all sorts of distracting impressions into his brain. He could remember the curved indention of her waist, the full press of her breasts and the soft skin exposed by the skimpy dress she’d been wearing. Yet none of those memories were as strong and dangerous as the kiss of her lips. Like a blind man with heightened senses, he had every curve, every scent, every taste detailed in his mind.
Now after three days had passed, he realized it had been a grave mistake to have kissed her. He couldn’t forget. And a part of him didn’t want to.
All sorts of mixed feelings raced through him as he watched Juliet and Gracia exchange a few more words, then Juliet leaned down and pressed a swift kiss on Gracia’s cheek. In turn, his daughter gave her a brief hug, then turned and raced back up the steps and into the building.
The affectionate exchange hurt him in ways he didn’t want to think about. He’d tried so hard to be a good father to Gracia. Especially since she had only one parent. But it seemed as though the more he tried to get close, the further she’d drifted away from him. Maybe it was because she was going to be turning thirteen next week, he reasoned with himself. Teenagers couldn’t be figured out.
With the flick of his wrist, he quickly opened the door and stepped down to the ground. The movement caught Juliet’s attention and she turned where she stood to look in his direction. For a moment her beauty stunned him all over again and he swallowed, a sudden strange thickness in his throat.
He walked over to her.
“Miss Madsen,” he greeted curtly.
“Hello, Mr. Sanchez,” she said.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Smiling wanly, she reached up and captured the blond strands of hair being whipped by the wind. “Yes, it’s a small world.”
Listening to her twangy drawl was like warm pudding slipping over his tongue. Sweet and smooth. “I noticed you just happened to run into my daughter.”
She drew her shoulders back and his eyes promptly fell to her breasts.
“That’s right. I just happened to be here working this afternoon.”
His mouth twisted. “I’ll bet.”
Her eyes narrowed on his chiseled face. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His weight shifted from one boot to the other. “I’m sure you didn’t know my father was a resident here,” he said with just enough sarcasm to send her brows flying upward.
“Actually, I didn’t. I happened to be walking down the hall and saw Gracia.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
Hefting a camera bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned in the direction of her car. “Believe me, Mr. Sanchez, in spite of your enormous ego, I’m not that interested in you or your family. Tell Gracia it was very nice to see her again.”
But not him. She couldn’t have spoken the words more clearly. Matt was wondering why that should bother him when she started striding away from him. Before he could stop himself, he marched after her.
“Where are you going?”
As soon as the question popped out of his mouth he knew it was a mistake. She turned on her heel and shot him a droll look down her nose.
“I do have a job, Mr. Sanchez. I still have work to finish this evening.”
So did he. That damned cattle buyer was probably already at the ranch. Why in hell wasn’t he worrying about him instead of this sexpot with a tart mouth?
Maybe because she’s been on your mind ever since you kissed her.
Shoving that irksome thought away, he said, “I want to know what you think you’re doing trying to insert yourself into my family. Particularly, through my daughter.”
“Insert? God, you’re a sick man. Or maybe I should say fearful. Is that it, Mr. Sanchez? You’re actually afraid your daughter might seek out attention from someone other than you? Or do you have something far bigger to worry about?”
His jaw tightened to the point that it was aching, while his hands itched to reach out and grab her. It would give him pleasure, extreme pleasure, to shut her mouth exactly the way he’d shut it three days ago. But this time he wouldn’t let himself forget that he was a gentleman. At least, not here in a parking lot where anyone might be watching.
“What are you trying to insinuate?” he countered.
“That you’re overreacting for some reason.”
He was. And he wasn’t exactly sure why. True, he didn’t want his grandparents’ history plastered about in the paper. But he’d be a fool to think that the locals