GRANT watched Zoe leave the kitchen and his appetite went with her. He’d woken that morning thinking she needed payback for dinner the night before. He’d worked out around two a.m. that there’d been nothing innocent in the way she’d eaten. He’d known her practically her whole life, and she did not eat that sensually.
He didn’t know what had gotten her dander up—maybe the comment about him not minding other women liking his kisses—but whatever it had been, she’d set out to prove she could make him uncomfortable. And she’d succeeded. In spades. This morning it had been his turn, but now he felt like a skunk.
He picked up the plates and scraped the food into the garbage. Feeling guilty, he toasted her a bagel and slathered it with her favorite blackberry honey. He finished cleaning up the kitchen, washing the dishes. He had just rinsed the last plate when Zoe came storming in.
White terry cloth barely concealed the curves he had spent the entire night trying to forget. Her hair still had soap bubbles in it. Water trickled down her neck to disappear in the cleavage at the top of her towel. Grant thought seriously about opening a few windows. He needed air—cold air—and he needed it now.
Nothing competed with the expression in her eyes, though. He could see murder, mayhem and his own demise in her usually sweet-tempered eyes.
She slammed her hand down on the counter next to him. “So it’s not enough that you set your thermostat to arctic temperatures and freeze me to death.” She moved so close he could see the sudsy foam drying around her temples. “And then you spice my food with enough hot stuff to permanently maim my tastebuds.”
She reached around him, but the sight of Zoe nearly naked had Grant paralyzed. If she was going for the cast-iron skillet, he was powerless to stop her. Her hand came back around and she waved a recently washed plate in his face.
“This is the last straw.”
He stared down at the plate and could not fathom what had her so furious she would come storming out of the shower with soap still in her hair.
“I cannot believe you would stoop to washing the dishes while I was in the shower.” She punctuated each word with a shove to his midsection with the offending plate.
Sudden comprehension made him smile. Big mistake.
“You think this is funny?” She nearly shrieked the words.
“Calm down. I forgot about the water-shower thing.” The hacienda had had many updates over the years, but the interior plumbing had last been seen to before he was born.
“You expect me to believe that? You have lived in this house your whole life.” She slammed the plate down on the counter with enough force that it should have broken. “First hot, then cold, then hot again. My skin is still trying to decide if you were attempting to scald me or freeze me to death.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped at them. “Damn it, Grant. I was not the one who started the kissing last night. You broke your own rule, and taking it out on me is not going to make that fact go away. You don’t have to torture me to within an inch of my life before I promise not to attack your manly virtue. I promise already.”
With that she pivoted and headed out of the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway. Turning her head, she pinned him to the counter with her stare. “If you run so much as a teaspoon of water while I finish my shower, I’m feeding your favorite boots to Maurice.”
He really had forgotten about the water thing. She was never going to believe him, though. She was right. He had started the kissing last night. She had responded with enough passion to keep him sleepless with longing for the next several nights, but she had not started it. However, he had not been the one to go all sexy in his eating habits.
She had to take responsibility for her actions. Well, actually, she had. So why did it bother him so much that she had promised to keep her hands off him? That was exactly what he wanted. Damn it. He needed to get his libido under control before he risked losing the one person in his life he would never willingly let go.
This morning hadn’t been a good example of how to maintain friendship in the face of desire hot enough to melt rock.
What he needed was a diversion. Something or someone to keep his mind off of Zoe’s delectable lips and even more delectable body. An image of Linda popped into his mind and he grimaced. Okay, so it hadn’t worked with her, but he was a problem solver by nature. One small setback did not justify junking an entire strategy.
His mind skimmed through the possibilities and settled on Carlene Daniels, the bartender at the Dry Gulch. He played poker with the owner and a couple of local high rollers every few weeks, and she always served their table.
She had a sense of humor, and dressed like a walking commercial for prophylactics, but she didn’t date much. She seemed to have a reputation, all the same, which was exactly what he wanted. A woman who knew the score and would help him get his desire for Zoe under control.
If he hadn’t given his ranch hands so much time off he would have left on a business trip, but that wasn’t an option right now. Which left Carlene.
Never one to wait when he’d decided to act, he grabbed the phone book to look up the woman’s number. Zoe couldn’t complain about him making a phone call while she showered.
Afternoon sun poured through the schoolroom window as Zoe picked up a bottle of white glue. She wiped the sticky mess around it with a damp paper towel. Her students had made Christmas decorations, and she had a mess of glitter, glue and little bits of colored paper to clean up. She didn’t mind. She needed time to think.
Her anger toward Grant had finally cooled about the time her first class of kindergartners had gone out to meet the midmorning school bus. She could not maintain fury when surrounded by five-year-olds ex-cited about Christmas.
Breakfast had been a disaster. He had done everything possible to make her feel as welcome as a coyote at a roundup. Running the water while she’d been in the shower had been truly inspired. It was something almost as good as what she might have cooked up.
She bit her lip and swept some glitter off the table into the trashcan she carried. For as long as she could remember Grant had been the only person in her life to accept her unconditionally. When she’d become a vegetarian and her dad had gone through the roof, Grant had bought her The Tofu Lover’s Cookbook. When her date had gotten sick the day of Senior Prom, Grant had taken her.
He had always been her knight in shining armor.
Remembering the hash browns that had about burned a hole in her tongue, she thought, Some knight! He’d gone from her hero to her sexual nemesis in the space of hours. Why was he so set on keeping their relationship platonic? He’d been every bit as involved in that kiss last night as she had.
And he wasn’t exactly celibate. She didn’t think he was a complete playboy. No one could afford to be in today’s age. But he was experienced. Light-years ahead of her. If only he knew. She’d tried dating in college, and even gone so far as to go to bed with one of her dates. She’d been feeling like an anachronism, being a virgin at twenty, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d made a complete fool of herself, telling her boyfriend she just wasn’t ready, getting dressed and going back to her dorm room.
He’d broken up with her a week later and she hadn’t blamed him. She just could not imagine sharing her body so intimately with anyone but Grant, and if she didn’t do something about it soon she was going to be the oldest living virgin in the United States. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that he would not have made such an all-fired effort to get rid of her this morning if last night hadn’t affected him as strongly as it had her.
Scrubbing at a stubborn stain of dried glue, Zoe glared at the offending white blob. People had been saying she and Grant should get together for years. Saying they were a natural couple. Even their parents got on that particular bandwagon once in a while. Of course her dad disagreed. Said Zoe had no business marrying a rancher with her affinity for animals.
It appeared that Grant took her dad’s view. He acted like dating her would be tantamount to breaking the law. His law. Zoe wadded up the used paper towel and tossed it in the garbage. Well, she didn’t want to date him either. She just wanted to have sex with him. Maybe then she could start looking at other men as something besides biological creatures that took up space on her planet.
She finished tidying up the classroom and headed to her car. She needed to pick the cats up from Grant’s. Maybe she should offer to cook him supper tonight. No way was she letting him cook, but they had to eat.
She grinned, planning a meal that would make the asparagus spears look chaste.
Walking into Grant’s kitchen half an hour later, the first thing Zoe noticed was a bouquet of roses on the counter. Her smile intensified and her heart started slamming against her ribs. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the heady scent of the crimson blooms. He had not apologized this morning, but flowers were even better.
She plucked the card from the arrangement. It said “Carlene” on the tiny white envelope.
Carlene? Who in the world was she, and why was Grant buying her flowers? Hearing footsteps, Zoe hurriedly replaced the envelope among the scarlet roses. The jerk. He treated her like a pariah and bought flowers for some other woman.
She whirled around to confront Grant when he came in. She stopped dead, staring at the apparition before her. “Grant?”
“What?”
It was Grant. The voice was the same. The incredible blue eyes. The nose. The masculine jaw shaved smooth. The mouth. That darned sensual mouth. That was Grant’s body encased in tight black jeans and a T-shirt. Those were Grant’s chest muscles rippling under the knit fabric stretched taut across his rib cage.
She’d seen him dressed for the office, and wearing similar suits or smart Armani sweaters for dates with his usual glamorous women. She’d seen him dressed to work the ranch. But never before had she seen him dressed so provocatively sexy. He might be worth millions and own the ranch he worked, but right now he looked like a cowboy going out on a date. A very sexy, dangerous cowboy.
She swallowed.
He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles rippling in his forearms. His dark brows rose. “What’s the matter, Zoe? You look like you’ve been eating my hash browns again.”
“Who’s Carlene?” she forced out between stiff lips.
“My date.”
“Your date?” Was that husky voice hers?
“Yeah.” He even sounded like one of his cowboys. She wondered if his Spanish great-grandfather had been equally chameleon-like. The man had certainly made the Double C a solid going concern, through hard work and business acumen a lot like Grant’s.
“As in for tonight?”
Grant gave her a look that said he thought she’d been sniffing glue instead of wiping it up. “Yeah.”
There went her plans for another sexy dinner. Looking around the kitchen, she noticed other things besides the roses. Grant had set out silverware and plates on the counter to be carried into the dining room. “You’re having your date here?”
“She wants to cook me dinner.”
Carlene probably planned on serving him asparagus and a whole lot more. The hussy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not?” The sound of a bird screeching reached her ears. Grant frowned. “Is there any way to keep that parrot quiet tonight? He’s going to ruin the mood.”
Too bad. She did her best to look apologetic while silently praising her parrot for his screeching tenor. “I’m sorry. He’s just like that. Nothing I can do.”
“I’ll think of something.”
She just bet he would. “I guess I’ll pick up the cats and get out of your way.”
“Great.”
It was a good thing Zoe didn’t have a glass of water handy. Grant would be the only contestant in a wet T-shirt contest otherwise. “Right. Well. I’ll just get the cats.”
She found Alexander and Princess and put them in the cat carrier. Walking into the bedroom she had slept in the first night, she stopped to talk to Bud, the hamster. “Things are looking bleak, Bud. I’ve finally decided to stop pussyfooting around my feelings for Grant and he’s got a date with another woman.”
He ran on his little exercise wheel, ignoring her. Males.
Zoe wondered if Carlene liked rodents. She racked her brain, trying to remember if she had ever met the woman. An image of deep cleavage and incredibly tight, short skirts rose in Zoe’s mind. The weekend bartender at the Dry Gulch. The woman went through men faster than Grant went through relationships—or at least that was what people said.
Zoe wanted to scream. She smiled instead, and loosened the door on top of Bud’s cage.
Whistling a Christmas carol, Zoe picked up the cat carrier and left. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to Grant. She could do without another dose of his sexy, tight T-shirt.
Grant put the finishing touches on the table. The roses looked good. Romantic. So did the rest of the dining room, thanks to his mother’s penchant for French provincial décor. She’d been gone for more than two decades, but because Lottie had only been interested in changing a few rooms of the ranch house, her influence remained.
The front doorbell rang and he rushed to answer it. When he opened the door, cold air and perfume assailed him. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent, but it wasn’t Zoe’s either.
Which was the point, he reminded himself.
“Hi, Grant,” Carlene said softly, smiling. Her dress wasn’t nearly as revealing as the gear she wore to work in, but it accentuated her voluptuous curves all the same. “There’s one more bag in the car if you’d like to get it.”
“I’ll get it. You go on in.”
He moved back, but she still managed to brush his arm with her chest. He was surprised when she jumped and apologized. When he walked into the kitchen with the bags a minute later, he found her rummaging through the cupboards.
She smiled, her expression a cross between nervous and welcoming. “I was looking for a pot to boil the pasta.”
“Over here.” He pulled out the pot he had used to make dinner for Zoe the night before.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
She turned to the sink and started filling the pot with water. “Want to make the salad?”
“Okay.”
She tossed him a bag of salad.
Zoe never bought premade salad. She said it was a drain on the environment’s resources. And that was the last comparison he was going to make between his date and his best friend tonight. After rinsing the lettuce and tossing it in a bowl along with the pre-mixed dressing, Grant had to admit it sure was easier than cutting everything up.
“I’ll have to make Zoe try this sometime. It’s a snap.” He grimaced, wishing he hadn’t brought her up.
Carlene gave him an inquiring look. “Is she the schoolteacher? The one that dated Tyler?”
Grant frowned. “Yeah.”
Carlene laughed. “I would never have picked those two for a couple. She treated Tyler nice, though. He was always going on about what a lady she is.”
“That’s Zoe.”
“She even introduced him to his new girlfriend. Another teacher. I think Tyler’s really in love.”
The last thing Grant wanted to do was talk about Zoe, love and Tyler, the man in leather. “Want me to do anything else?”
“Sure, sugar,” she said flirtatiously, her Texas accent drawing the words out. “Only it will have to wait until after dinner.”
Maybe this whole date thing was not such a good idea after all. He wanted sex, but the knowledge that it wasn’t going to be with Carlene hit him between the eyes with the force of a hammer. She was a lovely woman, but right now the only female who attracted him was Zoe.
So much for his great diversionary tactic.
“You can make dessert.” She said it nervously, and he wondered why.
“Sure.”
“I brought whipped cream, chocolate, and maraschino cherries.”
“I don’t have any ice cream.”
Carlene winked at him, but her face looked like she’d just added a whole layer of blusher. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”
She moved forward almost awkwardly, her bee-stung lips parted for a kiss. Grant started backing away and she kept coming. The sound of an earsplitting screech came from down the hall.
Carlene jumped and let out a pretty good screech of her own. “What was that?”
“Zoe’s bird.”
“What is her bird doing here?”
Grant explained about Zoe getting evicted. He left out the part about Bud, not proud of the fact that he had been instrumental in getting his friend evicted from her apartment.
“That’s a lot of pets for a single woman to have. No wonder she’s having a hard time finding a new place. I wouldn’t try to take care of so many, but I bet she never gets lonely,” Carlene said wistfully.
Grant frowned, the comment about loneliness making him wonder for the first time if Zoe had so many pets for that very reason. “She just has a soft spot for animals.”
“And then some.”
“I better go check on the bird.”
“All right.”
As he walked down the hall toward the bedroom with the parrot, he wondered what in the hell he was supposed to do about Carlene’s whipped cream and cherries. She acted like a woman ready for a night of no-strings sex, but it didn’t ring true. Maybe Carlene was the lonely one. Whatever her motives, he wasn’t making dessert with her, tonight or any other night.
And, damn it, he should have realized that before he ever asked her out. He kept telling himself he wasn’t a stupid man, but he certainly gave a good imitation of one sometimes.
The sound of screaming from the kitchen interrupted his thoughts. Grant rushed back in the room without checking on the bird.
Carlene stood on a kitchen chair, yelling loud enough to be heard in the next county. When she saw Grant she launched herself at him, literally flying through the air. “Mouse. It was a mouse.” She grabbed his shirtfront, shaking him. “He ran over my foot. He was brown and white and…” She trailed off with shuddering breaths.
A brown and white mouse? Bud. Grant pushed Carlene into a chair. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Water?” She jumped up and started screaming again. “There.” She pointed at the corner. “He’s over there.”
Grant made a dash for Bud, but the hamster scurried under the cabinets. Grant turned around. Carlene was no longer screaming, but she was back on top of the chair.
“It’s okay. It’s just Zoe’s pet hamster.”
She made an obvious bid for composure. “Your friend keeps rodents for pets?”
“Well, actually it was my hamster, and she agreed to keep him for me.” Grant got down on his knees and peered under the cabinet. “Do you mind helping me find him? He could get hurt, being out of his cage like this.”
The look of horror that cast her features in stark relief could not be feigned. “I’d like to, I really would. I don’t want him hurt, even if he is a…” She swallowed. “A rodent. But I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She sounded it too. She really was a nice woman, even if a little forward.
“It’s all right. I’ll find him on my own.”
Grant heard her step down off the chair. “I think I’d better go.”
Her turned toward Carlene, half of his attention still on the cupboard Bud had disappeared behind.
She was buttoning her coat. He jumped up. “Hey. I’ll find the hamster. Relax.”
She shook her head. “No, really…I don’t think I was up to tonight anyway.” Then she was out the door before he could answer.
What had she meant by that? Damn. Where was Bud?