Ann muttered, hoping her sense of relief wasn’t obvious. This way she’d have a chance to work out some kind of relationship with Nick before she had to deal with his daughter.
“What’s your ranch like?” Ann persisted when he made no attempt to introduce a subject for discussion.
“Big. And isolated.”
His words echoed through the cab like a challenge, but Ann didn’t know why. Maybe she was imagining things. She could be projecting her own doubts and fears onto him. He could simply be a taciturn man. She leaned her head back against the seat, trying to think of a conversational gambit that would fill a few miles, but instead promptly fell asleep.
Two hours later Nick looked over at her as he turned off the highway and onto the dirt road leading to his ranch. She was still sound asleep. Or pretending to be for reasons of her own, he thought cynically. Women were masters at deception.
He stopped in front of the rickety front porch of his house and cut the engine. Getting out, he walked around the cab and opened the door, giving Ann a tentative shake. She muttered something unintelligible but didn’t wake up.
“What’s the matter with her?”
Nick jumped as his hired hand suddenly rose up out of one of the chairs at the end of the porch.
“What are you doing sitting out here at this time of night, Snake?”
“Waitin’ ta see if’n ya really went through with it. It’s a sorry day when ya bring a female onto the place.” Snake shook his head mournfully. “Wimmin’s bad luck. Always has been, always will be.”
“But good cooks,” Nick said. “Look on the bright side. Maybe I’ll get a decent meal out of it.”
“Tain’t worth it. And if’n she ain’t damaged, why don’t she move?”
“She’s probably tired. And she’s not the only one. It’s been a long day. Open the front door, will you?”
Nick reached into the cab and picked Ann up in his arms. The sooner he got her into bed, the sooner he could seek his own.
Frowning, he adjusted her slight weight in his arms as he crossed the yard. She was too light. Far too light. And far too disconcerting, he admitted as a faint whiff of the perfume she was wearing drifted into his lungs. His frown deepened as he felt his body harden in response. He wanted to tighten his hold and pull her closer. To press his lips to hers. To…
“The sheriff called while ya was gone. Said fer ya ta call him when ya got back. Says it’s important. Says a couple calves has gone missin’ from Hector Menendez’s ranch.”
Nick paused in the open door and forced himself to concentrate on what Snake was saying, instead of on how Ann felt. “Wolves?”
Snake spit tobacco juice over the edge of the porch and said, “Two legged kind, more like.”
Damn! Nick thought. Just what he needed on top of everything else. Cattle rustlers. “Thanks, Snake. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Snake didn’t bother to answer. He merely stomped off to his own trailer behind the stables, muttering audibly about the cupidity of women and the gullibility of men.
He wasn’t gullible, Nick reflected, mentally refuting Snake’s words as he climbed the narrow stairway to the second floor. Not anymore. Now he knew all the pitfalls waiting to entrap an unwary man in a relationship. And knowing them, he could avoid them, he assured himself. Ann would not find him the easy mark Mona had. This time he would be the one calling the shots, and he would be able to do it because he wasn’t blinded by love.
He carefully shouldered open the door to the bedroom where he’d decided to put Ann. Gently lowering her onto the narrow bed, he stared down at her sleep-flushed face. For a moment he was filled with a desire to carry her downstairs to his own bed. To assert his masculinity in the most basic of ways. But he ruthlessly squelched the urge. He’d already decided that his best hope for remaining undamaged by this marriage would be to maintain an emotional and physical distance from her. But what he hadn’t counted on when he’d made his plans was that Ann Lennon would be quite so tempting a physical package. Although, maybe her appeal would fade upon closer acquaintance, he encouraged himself as he pulled a blanket around her and then hastily retreated to the safety of his own room.
* * *
“Ann? Ann!”
The irritating sound nibbled at the edge of her consciousness, and Ann rolled over, wincing slightly at the unyielding hardness of the lumpy mattress.
“Ann!” The voice demanded with all the persistence of a dentist’s drill.
She burrowed beneath her thin pillow in a vain attempt to shut out the hectoring sound.
“Are you awake?” the deep voice sounded closer.
Ann forced open her eyes and stared blankly at the door. Its dark green paint had peeled away in places to reveal the dingy brown color beneath. She frowned, trying to place it and failed. Where was she? Her gaze swung around the barren room, which was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering in through the ripped shade partially covering the window.
“Ann, wake up!”
Nick! Ann jackknifed up as memory suddenly poured through her.
“I’m awake,” she yelled, not wanting Nick to come in and see her all rumpled from having spent the night in her clothes. To her dismay, Nick pushed open the door, although he didn’t come inside. Instead, he gestured toward the other side of the room.
“Those are the boxes you sent,” he said.
“Thank you.” Uncertainly, Ann stared at him. If anything, he looked even more intensely masculine in broad daylight than he had last night. Well-worn jeans lovingly molded his muscular thighs, and a long-sleeve, dark green cotton shirt covered his broad chest. Her eyes met his, and her breath caught at the seething emotion she could see there. Probably not excitement at seeing her, she thought ruefully. Far more likely, it was impatience.
She swallowed an enormous yawn and pushed her tumbled hair out of her face.
“What time is it?” Her voice was husky with sleep.
“Six o’clock. I let you sleep late because you seemed so tired last night.”
“Late!” she repeated incredulously. As far as she was concerned, the day started at seven. Any time before that was merely an unsubstantiated rumor.
“We normally get up at five-thirty. There’s a lot of chores to do on a working ranch.”
Ann opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of working ranches and then promptly closed it, reminding herself that she’d agreed to this. Just because she’d never gotten up in the middle of the night before, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t become accustomed to it in time. Of course, in time she’d die of old age and it wouldn’t matter, she thought gloomily.
“Farm wives fix their husbands’ breakfast,” Nick added with what Ann thought was an appalling smugness.
“Lovely,” she mumbled.
“Although,
