The Rancher's Rules

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.”