Resisting the Rancher (Redwood Falls 3)

Janet shrugged her shoulders with feigned nonchalance. “I guess—I didn’t catch his full name.” It was true she had no idea what the man’s first name was. All she knew was that he’d seemed honest enough, if a bit abrasive, but the grocer had vouched for him, and Parker had paid her with cold, hard cash—in advance.

“You didn’t catch his full name?” Jeff repeated in an incensed, mocking tone, the volume of his voice escalating toward the end of his question.

“No. I. Did. Not,” she snapped back as her temper began soaring. How dare he?

“Parker. He goes by Parker—that the guy?” The look on his face said he wanted to kill somebody, whether the other man or her, she didn’t know—probably both.

She swallowed, took a deep breath and attempted to act as if they were having a simple conversation and not an argument that was about to go off the rails. “Yes. He lives next to the football field.”

“Are you telling me,” he stalled and then began again, as if trying to control his rage, “that you went—with a helpless baby—to some guy’s house you didn’t know, had never met before—and trusted that nothing bad was going to come of it?” As he roared the words, he walked forward a step, pushing the swing backwards even more so. Her feet were lifted from the ground as her fingers found purchase on both sides of the cushion so her butt wouldn’t slide off the swing.

“Yes, I damn well did!” So much for not having an argument; his attempt to intimidate maddened her. Holding on tightly, she narrowed her eyes. “How was that any different than coming here six days ago? I didn’t know you—but I trusted that nothing bad was going to happen to us.” As his eyes blazed down, she completely lost her intelligence and dared, “Is something bad about to happen to me now? Maybe I should go work full time for him instead.”

What the hell was in her mind to issue such a challenge to a man who was hardheaded, stubborn, and who’d practically been stalking her since the moment she’d arrived? Because it certainly wasn’t her brain she was listening to. Was she trying to set him off? Was she trying to see how he’d react to her challenge?

She didn’t have to wait long for his reaction that was for damn sure. He came forward another step, pushing the swing back even farther. The monitor fell to the cement with a clatter, she lost all traction as she began to slide off the swing. Catching her under the arms, he promptly lifted her from her seat. He swung her against the closed front door, all within seconds, as if her weight was negligible. He made the move with a show of strength that was purposeful, and it was laced with threatening, sexual intent.

He held her pinned to the door, her feet dangling. Her heart began beating a mile a minute, and she admitted to herself that she’d provoked him intentionally. Why, why, why, though?

She couldn’t have angry sex with a man she’d only known for six days—could she?

Could she?

Chapter Five

“Don’t throw shit like that in my face, darlin’, not if you expect me to play nice.”

Pushing against her, Janet felt the unmistakable bulge in Jeff’s pants as his features darkened and turned even more remote. He was so close—his breath was enticing, it smelled of mint, bourbon and smoke, a combination of masculine scents that was making her head spin and a sharp, sweet ache form between her thighs.

His mouth flattened as his voice grew rougher with every word he spoke. “Listen baby, I know you get what’s going on here—between you and me. If you don’t, then by all means, let me spell it out for you. You can’t cook worth shit—you got baggage in the form of a kid—you have no money and the car you drive should have been scrapped years ago. There’s one reason you’re here and one reason alone. You want to take a stab at it, girl?”

Every word he spoke enraged her—and sent a spiral of addictive heat down her spine. She had baggage? Bastard had baggage of his own. Granted, he was rich and evidently needed nothing from her, but damn, he had a kid as well. And he was ornery and quick-tempered and mean but even now, she was finding it hard not to push her pelvis against him, looking for relief.

She knew she couldn’t cook—the fact that she had a kid was indisputable. But none of that seemed to matter to him, in fact, he seemed to want her so badly that a single day of working for another man had pissed him off to such an extent that he was busting a fuse. And that knowledge was sending a provocative thrill to the center of her femininity. She wanted him too.

He turned her on so damn much it was undeniable, and damn it, he probably realized it as well.

She stared in silence into the depth of his eyes as their breathing grew ragged in tandem. As he palmed a breast with one hand, as if it belonged to him and him alone, he allowed her to slide down until her feet found the ground. Now he was standing over her, hands hot on her, eyes blazing down, waiting for her answer. “What’s the reason, Janet-baby? Tell me why you’re here,” he demanded once again in a tone not to be denied.

She licked her lips and closed her eyes. In answering him, she thought he would probably try to propel them forward immediately. This was getting deep, fast. Christ, she was about to sleep with a guy she’d only known for six days. “Answer me,” he hissed, his fingers tightening around her breast.

“Because you want to sleep with me,” she spat out, answering his dare, quivering against him.

“Exactly,” he said harshly, positively, while pinching her nipple between his fingers and thumb. “Now tell me you want it too,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

She shook her head, denying them both, even as she felt the tremor in her thighs.

“Bullshit,” he rasped, his hand dropping from her breast to palm the heat between her legs. She sucked in a breath as her bones dissolved into jelly. He dropped his head and took her mouth with his, his lips hot, hard, biting. Nipping at her even as the hand that held her so intimately zeroed in on the spot that would drive her insane within minutes.

It only took seconds to know she was lost. Trying to find what little control she could, she ripped her mouth away from his, turned her head and told him what she needed him to realize. “I’m not on any birth control, just so you know.”

He lifted his head, forced her face back around to his, and stared into her eyes. “Yeah?”

She shook her head, swallowing down her anxiety. “I don’t particularly want to get pregnant.”

“I don’t particularly want to get you pregnant,” he shot back, even as the firm fingers between her legs became more caressing. The almost gentle motion alarmed her, as she realized his touch had changed because he’d thought he’d won. He fully expected she’d follow him into his bedroom and be agreeable to whatever he wanted.

And then what?

Did she really care? She wanted to feel, at least once in her life, what it was like to be with a man like him. She was old enough and had lived enough to know that men such as this one didn’t come around very often, and why should she beat herself up just because she wanted the experience?

He lowered his head, and just as she thought he was about to kiss her once more, he spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re not going to Parker’s again. Understand that right now.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she challenged, so irritated that he wouldn’t let that go she could barely speak, and so turned on she could barely see st

raight.

The gentle caress between her thighs became a hand clamped over her, tightly, the force of his hold devastating to her senses. “You. Are. Not. Going. There. Again,” he bit out with precision.

“You don’t own me,” she tossed back, wondering if she was lying. “You can’t control me. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You don’t think?” he asked, both condemnation and challenge smoldering in his eyes.

“I do think. I work for you—that’s it. I’m not your puppet, or your wife,” she sneered. “You can’t tell me what to do, all you can do is fire me.”

“You’re fired,” he shot back immediately, his hand trailing away from her thighs and sinking into her hair, forcing her face up to an uncomfortable angle.

“Screw you,” she retaliated sharply, a mixture of fury and need burning through her veins.

His head came down with a punishing intent as she tried to turn away. He reacted with a growl, his chin bumping her cheek, trying to force her face toward his. He nipped at her lips and she clamped them closed. He let out a menacing, almost sinister sneer as his hand slid from her hair to grip her chin, pulling it down and forcing her lips open to him.

He thrust his tongue inside and dammit—she was lost. An indecent quake trembled through her limbs at the force he was using. She felt no fear, only a hot, decadent need that danced through her bloodstream and settled in a knot of lust in her pelvis.

He kissed her roughly, hotly, consuming her completely as if he could never get enough. His tongue went deep, he kissed her thoroughly, wildly, and it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It was hot, wet, untamed. Her panting breaths began blending with his and her hands went to his hair to clutch him to her, her world careening out of control.

She held on tightly and began kissing him back. Sweet Jesus, he was fine. He smelled delicious, his hold on her was positively wicked and in that moment in time, she never wanted to be anywhere other than where she was—in his arms.