on the electric pole, packed up the stereo and headed home.
He had tried the direct, confrontational approach, then the charming, tactful approach with Porter. The only option left was to beg forgiveness. But Devlin had vowed seven years ago that he wouldn’t beg a woman for anything, not after Sandi had hurt and embarrassed him and left him to deal with smalltown gossip while she sauntered off to the big city on the arm of her new lover. As for Jessica Porter, she could sit on her forty acres and rot, for all he cared—as long as she did it quietly!
JESSICA SCRUBBED her hands over her face and cursed herself soundly for freezing up the moment Callahan had flashed her an honest-to-goodness smile. It had made her protective armor crack wide open and her heart slam against her ribs—and stick there. Even worse, her reaction to him inspired dangerously reckless and tempting feelings. Being hurt and humiliated in the past, Jessica was wary of men, and she had a tendency to back off the instant her hardened resolve began to soften up.
Reluctantly, Jessica smiled at the image of Devlin sprawled in the shrubs. She had to admit that his smile hadn’t seemed predatory, manipulative or cajoling. He’d seemed natural, willing to admit that he’d looked pretty silly. It was at that precise moment, when Devlin had looked his most vulnerable and human, that he became devastatingly attractive to her. In that instant she had liked him, liked the looks of him, reacted to his boyish grin.
That was also the precise moment when Jessica felt most vulnerable, feared that a disaster was waiting to happen. Given her history with Rex, she knew she had a weakness for rugged, athletic men. She thought she had known Rex well enough to trust him, but she had been wrong. Humiliatingly, mortifyingly wrong. She knew even less about Callahan, except that he was persistent, that he could laugh at himself, that he didn’t always take himself so seriously.
Yet Jessica suspected that Devlin had come by to kiss up to her, making an effort to mend fences. The fact that he probably had to put forth an effort made her leery—and yes, a little disappointed that it was such a chore for him to be nice to her. She couldn’t afford to feel anything, especially not fierce sexual attraction to a man who wasn’t totally honest and sincere.
Jessica inhaled a steadying breath and discarded all thoughts of the handsome cowboy. She had a weekend jam-packed with strenuous work and she desperately needed rest.
Jessica peeled off her clothes on the way to the bath and sank into the steamy water, letting her mind drift where it would. Her eyes popped open when Devlin’s smiling face materialized out of nowhere. She banished his image and scrubbed herself squeaky clean.
Wrapped in an oversize towel, Jess padded to her bedroom and plunked on the bed. She fell asleep while mentally listing the chores that needed her attention this weekend…and she was too far gone to banish that cowboy’s smiling image when he followed her into forbidden dreams.
THUNDER RUMBLED overhead as Jessica sped down the gravel road toward home. After mowing five acres of weeds and brush, she had changed into her business suit and made a hurried trip into town to restock microwavable meals. She had yet to hook the chain to her car and move the big cat cages farther west. If she didn’t complete the task quickly, she predicted she’d be mired in mud and forced to ask her nearest neighbor to pull her out.
As if he’d lift a hand to help, she mused as she watched lightning spike from the low-hanging clouds. Last night had pretty much nixed her chances of a civilized friendship with Devlin. In spite of that, Jess detoured by his ranch to apologize for dismissing him so rudely and to insure Devlin hadn’t suffered serious injury in his fall into the shrubbery. He hadn’t been home to hear the polite apology she had rehearsed.
Thunder rumbled again, and huge raindrops pelted the windshield. Jessica increased her speed, hoping to outrun the storm so she could feed her animals before the sky opened up.
A half mile from home the rear tire blew out. Jessica gripped the wheel to steer toward the side of the road. “Great, just great,” she muttered, then glanced at her royal blue silk suit, matching pumps and panty hose. “What are the chances of changing the tire without ruining this suit?”
Scowling at her damnable luck, Jess climbed from the car, then opened the trunk. Fat raindrops splattered on her back and hips as she bent to rummage in the trunk for the jack and doughnut tire. By the time she wrestled the tire from the trunk she had grime stuck to her jacket and skirt.
Hunkering down, Jess groaned and strained to work the lug nuts loose with the tire tool, but the darn things wouldn’t budge. Bracing her feet, she tried to apply more muscle, but the tire tool slipped sideways, causing her to trip over large chunks of gravel.
“Ouch! Damn!” Jessica hissed in pain when her ankle landed at an unnatural angle. She stared at her skinned knees and shredded panty hose, then glowered at the offensive tire tool.
Pushing upright, Jessica tested her injured ankle. Minor damage, she diagnosed as she hobbled over to retrieve the tire tool and try again. Rain came down in torrents as she squatted to battle the lug nuts.
It was a waste of time.
Hope rose within her when she heard a vehicle approaching, but Jessica cursed colorfully when she recognized Devlin Callahan’s pickup. He rolled down the window to give her the once-over, taking in her soggy silk suit, muddy blue pumps and wet blond hair that drooped around her face like a stringy mop.
“Having trouble, Blondie?” he asked around the wry smile that twitched his lips.
“No, I’m doing this for practice,” she snapped, certain he was silently laughing—at her expense.
NOTHING was more gratifying for Devlin, after last night’s fiasco in the shrubbery, than seeing Jessica doused with rain and mud, struggling in vain to change her tire. It was second nature for Devlin to lend a hand to a neighbor in times of need, but this wasn’t the usual, garden-variety neighbor. This was the infuriating female who refused to negotiate the terms of a truce over a peace-treaty dinner.
Fact was, Devlin wasn’t accustomed to being turned down flat, and his male pride was still smarting. If Porter wanted his assistance, then she could swallow her pride and ask for it.
“This is the drought buster I’ve been waiting for. Sure is wet out there, isn’t it, Blondie?” he commented conversationally.
“Brilliant, Einstein.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she stabbed the end of the tire tool at the lug nut. Devlin could have—should have—offered assistance, but he sat in his truck, watching her fumble with a task that she didn’t have the physical strength to accomplish. He kept waiting for her to ask for his help, but after she had rudely rejected his attempt at a truce he figured she had too much pride to request assistance, for fear Devlin would tell her to fix her own flat.
Teeth gritted, Jessica pushed up her sleeves, then grabbed the tire tool once more. She braced herself, favoring her tender ankle, then strained to loosen the lug nuts.
While Jessica battled the lug nuts, Devlin sat there, grudgingly admiring her determination. Few women of his acquaintance would tackle such a task. But Jessica was as independent as the American flag and fully capable of teaching stubborn to a mule. She also had a jalapeño-flavored temper—not unlike his own, which was why he and Jessica clashed at every turn.
Devlin chuckled to himself when Jessica, her patience worn threadbare, threw down the tire tool, then kicked the flat tire in frustration.
“That’ll help,” he called over the sound of pounding rain.
She lurched,
