nerve endings sizzled in response. Several times in the last few years she’d considered hooking up with the cocky charmer. He possessed a body to die for and offered the perfect balance of risk and fun. Sex with him would be explosive and memorable. Too memorable. No doubt she’d spend the rest of her days wanting more. Except as far as she could tell, Shane wasn’t the type to stick around for long. Not that she was looking for anything long-term, but a girl could get addicted to things that weren’t necessarily good for her.
“In fact,” he continued, sex appeal rolling off him in waves, “I enjoy our little chats.”
“Our chats end up with me turning you down.” She gave him her best smirk. “Are you saying you enjoy that?”
“Honey, you know I never back down from a challenge.”
At long last he broke eye contact and let his gaze roam over her mouth and breasts. His open appreciation electrified Brandee, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless.
“Good seeing you both.” With a nod at Chelsea, Shane ambled away.
“Damn,” Chelsea muttered, her tone reverent.
“What?” The question came out a little sharper than Brandee intended. She noticed her hands were clenched and relaxed her fingers. It did no good. Her blood continued to boil, but whether with lust or outrage Brandee couldn’t determine.
“You two have some serious chemistry going on. How did I not know this?”
“It’s not chemistry,” Brandee corrected. “It’s antagonism.”
“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to. It’s hot.” Either Chelsea missed Brandee’s warning scowl or she chose to ignore it as she continued, “How come you’ve never taken him for a test drive?”
“Are you crazy? Did you miss the part where he’s been trying to buy Hope Springs Ranch for the last three years?”
“Maybe it’s because it gives him an excuse to stop by and see you? Remember how he came by the day after the tornado and stayed to help?” Two and a half years earlier an F4 tornado had swept through Royal. The biggest to hit in almost eighty years, it had taken out a chunk of the west side of town including the town hall and a wing of Royal Memorial Hospital before raging on to cause various degrees of damage to several surrounding ranches.
“He wasn’t being altruistic. He was sniffing around, checking to see if because of the hit the ranch took whether I was in a position where I had to sell.”
“That’s not why he spent the next few days cleaning up the storm damage.”
Brandee shook her head. Chelsea didn’t understand how well Shane hid his true motives for being nice to her. He lived by the motto “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” The smooth-talking son of a bitch wanted Hope Springs Ranch. If Brandee agreed to sell, she’d never hear from Shane again.
“Where Shane Delgado is concerned, let’s agree to disagree,” Brandee suggested, not wanting to spoil her lunch with further talk of Shane.
“Okay.” Chelsea clasped her hands together on the table and leaned forward. “So, tell me your good news. What’s going on?”
“I found out this morning that Hope Springs’ first summer session is completely booked.”
“Brandee, that’s fantastic.”
Since purchasing the land that had become Hope Springs Ranch, Brandee had been working to create programs for at-risk teens that helped address destructive behaviors and promote self-esteem. Inspired by her own difficult teen years after losing her dad, Brandee wanted to provide a structured, supportive environment for young adults to learn goal-setting, communication and productive life skills.
“I can’t believe how well everything is coming together. And how much work I have to do before the bunkhouses and camp facilities are going to be ready.”
“You’ll get it all done. You’re one of the most driven, organized people I know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
It had taken years of hard work and relentless optimism, but she’d done her dad proud with the success she’d made of Hope Springs Ranch. And now she stood on the threshold of realizing her dream of the camp. Her life was perfect and Brandee couldn’t imagine anything better than how she felt at this moment.
* * *
Shane strode away from his latest encounter with Brandee feeling like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod. Over the years, he’d engaged in many sizzling exchanges with the spitfire rancher. After each one, he’d conned himself into believing he’d emerged unscathed, while in reality he rarely escaped without several holes poked in his ego.
She was never happy to see him. It didn’t seem fair when everything about her brightened his day. Usually he stopped by her ranch and caught her laboring beside her ranch hands, moving cattle, tending to the horses or helping to build the structures for her camp. Clad in worn jeans, faded plaid work shirts and dusty boots, her gray-blue eyes blazing in a face streaked with sweat and dirt, she smelled like horses, hay and hard work. All tomboy. All woman. And he lusted after every lean inch of her.
She, however, was completely immune to him. Given her impenetrable defenses, he should have moved on. There were too many receptive women who appreciated that he was easy and fun, while in Brandee’s cool gaze, he glimpsed an ocean of distrust.
But it was the challenge of bringing her around. Of knowing that once he drew her beneath his spell, he would satisfy himself with her complete surrender and emerge triumphant. This didn’t mean he was a bad guy. He just wasn’t built to be tied down. And from what he’d noticed of Brandee’s social life, she wasn’t much into long-term relationships, either.
And so he kept going back for more despite knowing each time they tangled she would introduce him to some fresh hell. Today it had been the scent of her perfume. A light floral scent that made him long to gather handfuls of her hair and bury his face in the lustrous gold waves.
“Shane.”
His mental meanderings came to a screeching halt. He nodded in acknowledgment toward a trio of women, unsure which one had hailed him. These three were trouble. Cecelia, Simone and Naomi. A blonde, brunette and a redhead. All three women were gorgeous, entitled and dangerous if crossed.
They’d recently been admitted to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and were making waves with their demands that the clubhouse needed a feminine face-lift. They wanted to get rid of the old boys’ club style and weren’t being subtle about manipulating votes in their favor.
Brandee had been one of their most obstinate adversaries, working tirelessly to gather the votes needed to defeat them. She’d infiltrated the ranks of the oldest and most established members in order to preach against every suggestion these three women made. The whole thing was amusing to watch.
Shane responded to Naomi’s wave by strolling to their table. “Ladies.”
“Join us,” Cecelia insisted. She was a striking platinum blonde with an ice queen’s sharp eyes. As president of To The Moon, a company specializing in high-end children’s furniture, Cecelia was obviously accustomed to being obeyed.
Putting
