Stella Bagwell - The Rancher's Request

“Maybe I was just personally interested,” she suggested coolly.

Matt snorted. From the sound of her voice, she was from North Texas. She had that certain twang that separated her from the Southern folks of the state. And she wasn’t interested in his family; she was interested in her job.

“Where are you from?” he asked bluntly.

Her brows lifted. “Why, I live in Goliad.”

Goliad was only about twenty minutes to the east of the Sandbur. He slowly shook his head. “You’re not a native around here.”

“No. Actually, I’m from Dallas. I moved from there a few months ago when I came to work for the Fannin Review.”

“Then someone should have told you that the folks down here don’t appreciate anyone taking advantage of their hospitality.”

She sucked in an outraged breath. “That’s not—”

“Don’t bother to deny it, Miss Madsen. We both know what you were trying to do and I’m telling you flatly, right now, that there is no story here. And even if there were, I wouldn’t let you get anywhere near it. Understand?”

Her nostrils pinched together as she stared angrily at him. “I don’t really know what your position is on this ranch, but I’ve had just about enough of your pious attitude. I haven’t committed any crime here. According to a lot of folks in Goliad, it’s common knowledge that Nate and Sara Ketchum, the former owners of this ranch had a—well, let’s just call it a colorful relationship. And since Nate’s murder was never solved, it’s still of local interest.”

“That’s what you think,” he quipped.

“No, that’s what my editor thinks. He believes the whole issue would make a good story for the paper. I tried to deter him from the idea, but he insisted I ask as many questions as possible.” She shook her head in a regretful way. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to hang on to my job.”

He glanced away from her pained expression. “Hell of a way to do it.”

Juliet bristled all over again. Maybe in his eyes she had been in the wrong, but he could be a little more understanding. Somehow she figured this hard man didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“What would you know about needing a job?” she asked. “Looks to me like you were born into riches.”

Why was it so easy for outsiders to look around the Sandbur and think that the ranch simply made itself, he wondered. Outsiders could never imagine the long, back-breaking labor that was put into this estate to keep it one of the top cattle ranches in Texas. But then, he couldn’t expect this woman to understand. She’d probably spent most of her young life being educated in a private school in Dallas. He seriously doubted she’d ever had those manicured hands in a sink of dirty dishwater.

“You don’t exactly look like you’ve just stepped out of the ghetto, Miss Madsen. But as for me, I’ve worked for everything I own.”

Her chin lifted as she stared at him with angry disbelief. “And you think I haven’t?”

His expression turned mocking as his eyes roamed up and down her curvy figure. “I really couldn’t say.”

Anger propelled her closer and she jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. “You don’t know anything about me. And being some sort of big chief around here doesn’t give you the right to be insulting!”

He caught the finger pressing into his chest, then clamped his hand tightly around hers. “Let’s not worry about what I am. Let’s concentrate on what you are,” he growled in a low voice. “You’ve come to my home under false pretenses—”

“That’s not true!” she interrupted hotly, her cheeks burning. “And you have to be the most—hateful bastard I’ve ever met!”

One corner of his lips sneered upward. “You think so? You think I’m hateful for trying to protect my family from vultures like you?”

“Vul-tt-ture!” she sputtered in outrage. Instant retaliation was the only thing on her mind as she lifted her free hand to slap his jaw.

Matt caught her wrist in midair and then he was gripping both her hands, making it impossible for her to pull away as she stared at him in mute fury.

“You shouldn’t have tried that, Miss Madsen,” he said in a cunningly smooth voice.

The glitter in his dark green eyes electrified Juliet. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe or move the slightest muscle, even when she saw his head descending toward hers.

“Let me go.”

The three words were breathed out in a voice so tiny he could barely hear it.

“Why? So you can try to slap me again?” he goaded.

The urge to kick his shin shot through her head, but she didn’t have time to carry through with the strike. Before she knew what was happening, he jerked her forward and the front of her body slammed into his.

The contact felt like running straight into a stone wall. The force snapped her head back and made the curls atop her head bounce wildly.

“You—”

The rest of her verbal attack was lost as his lips swooped down on hers. Like a vulnerable little mouse clutched in a hawk’s talons, he ravaged her mouth while she stood in a shocked, rigid stance. The heat of his body flowed into her like a sudden arc of electricity and from her head to her toes she felt her skin flushing bright pink.

Just as abruptly as the kiss started it came to a shattering end as he ripped his lips away from hers and set her an arm’s length away.

Dazed and gasping for air, she stared at him.

He stared back as his eyes roamed over and over her face.

“Consider that a lesson,” he finally said.

His voice was low and husky and Juliet shivered inwardly. The man was more than sexy looking; he was Mr. Sensuality. Too bad he was bent on using his charms in the wrong way.

Quickly, before he could see how stunned she’d been by his kiss, she gathered as much of her senses together as possible and asked coolly, “What sort of lesson would that be?”

“To leave me and my family alone.”

His blunt reply was as sharp as a knife. Juliet told herself it didn’t really hurt. She’d been spurned before. Yet she felt as if he’d sliced open an old wound and all the times she’d been rejected in the past had come up to slap her in the face.

Drawing up her shoulders, she said, “If the rest of your family is anything like you, it will be a pleasure. Now if I’m excused, Mr. Sanchez, I’m going back inside. It’s cold out here and there’s no gentleman around to offer me his jacket.”

His blood simmering, Matt watched her turn on a tall, delicate high heel and walk back into the house.

Damn it all, he silently fumed. The newspaperwoman should have never been invited here and for two cents he’d question his Aunt Geraldine about her presence on Sandbur. But since a woman was something he never discussed with anyone, for any reason, he realized he wouldn’t take the issue that far. His aunt would think he’d cracked up. Besides, he wanted to push Juliet Madsen totally out of his thoughts. He wanted to forget he’d lost his head and kissed that Dallas woman.

Inside the house Juliet quickly made her way to the restroom and, after locking the door, leaned weakly across the lavatory. A gilded mirror hung over the shallow basin and Juliet was horrified at the image she saw staring back at her.

She looked ghostly pale, except for her lips—and they were almost cherry-red from the hard kiss Matt Sanchez had planted on them. Much of her naturally curly hair had come loose from its pins and several locks were now swinging in front of her eyes.

She’d left her tiny handbag back in the kitchen under the table where she’d been sitting with the old cook, so she was without a compact, lipstick or comb. Her hands shook as she tried her best to finger comb her tumbled hair back into place and she scolded herself for having such a violent response to the man. It shouldn’t matter that he’d taken her unaware with that kiss. She’d been kissed before, she told herself.