Page 142 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

“See...you can’t come up with a reason.”

“I don’t want to,” she said. Wasn’t that reason enough?

“Okay...then you leave me no choice. I’m gonna have to get behind the wheel.” Jared made a move toward the driver’s side of the car.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Move over,” she said, angling her body between him and the car. “I’ll drive.”

Jared grinned. “That’a girl.”

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t driven a sports car before. She’d been given an Alfa Romeo on her seventeenth birthday. It was a beautiful car, but she’d hated driving it. She wasn’t showy or status-conscious and she didn’t have a need for speed. The car had been impractical and made no sense for a college student. After a year and some arguing with her father, she’d traded it in for a much more sensible sedan. It was just another way she’d disappointed Marco.

“I’m only doing this to keep you from reinjuring yourself. You haven’t gotten permission to drive from your doctor yet, have you?”

“That’ll happen soon enough. It’s just a formality now.” He put out his arms. “I’m fit.”

Glancing over his solid body, she couldn’t argue that point. “You sure are.”

He grinned and opened the Corvette’s door for her. “I like you, Bella Reid. A lot.”

“Call me crazy, but I like you, too.” A lot.

Just minutes later Bella’s hair was blowing in the breeze, the car kicking up all kinds of dust behind them. It was a short drive on Stone property to Cooper’s place. Gosh, he looked totally at home in this car, and happy. She smiled. She’d kept Jared from driving and breaking all kinds of speed laws.

She, on the other hand, was breaking all sorts of laws of her own making.

And Jared Stone was at the heart of it all.

Jared was definitely sleeping better, his wounds healing and his sore ribs not so restrictive anymore. Yet his internal clock still woke him anyway at precisely half past one. As he lay in bed a couple days later, his first thoughts were of Bella, her soft lips under his, her body meshing against him as he’d kissed her. It was no use pretending he could wish these feelings away. The more time he spent with Bella, the more he wanted her. Kissing her filled all the voids in his body, corking up his heartache over Helene and filling the emptiness in his life.

She was preparing a meal in his kitchen right now and was careful not to make much noise, but he’d heard her come downstairs ten minutes ago because he’d been listening for her. Now he was in bed battling his conscience and warring with the lust he had for her. She was his employee, a woman whose heart had been broken just one year ago. He admired her, liked her, cared for her. She was the whole package of beauty, talent and sweetness all rolled up into one.

Something was happening between them and it was stronger than his willpower to just let it be. It was stronger than his internal warnings not to get involved with her. She was just steps away and it was killing him to hold back, to keep his distance.

Who knew what would’ve happened the other day if Marie’s phone call hadn’t interrupted them.

The digital clock flashed. Another minute had gone by. Eleven minutes. Was that all his willpower could afford?

Hell yeah.

He tossed off the covers and rose from bed. Moonlight streamed into his room. He slipped his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, ignoring the slight ache to his ribs, and slid on a pair of jeans. He strode out of the bedroom, padding toward the kitchen, eager to see Bella. He found her hard at work at the counter, surrounded by bowls and equipment and ingredients, jotting down her recipe on a piece of paper.

It made him smile. And suddenly he felt selfish for disturbing her and had a good notion to hightail it out of there. Just as he was about to turn around, she spoke up. “Ready for some milk?”

He glanced at the milk container sitting out next to an empty glass on the counter. Had she been waiting for him? Joy surged in his gut and he wasn’t going to second-guess it. “The Midnight Contessa is hard at work again.” He walked farther into the kitchen.

“That would be me. Can’t sleep?”

“No. Not too much.” Technically it wasn’t a lie. But he wasn’t going to admit he loved these late-night meetings with her.

“Sorry to hear that. But you seem so much better lately,” she said, keeping her eyes on the flour and butter she was measuring.

“I’m getting better every day. Nights are harder to relax.”

“Speaking from one night owl to another.”

He laughed. “I guess. Hey, how about putting me to work, I’m too antsy to just sit here.”

“I can do that. Help me get this dough together. Pinch and squeeze the flour to the butter like this,” she said. He watched her over his shoulder as he made his way to the sink to wash his hands.