Jane Bonander by Wild Heart

stomach rebelled. He was actually afraid of this woman.
    As he ate, he watched her, shifting his gaze to the side when she looked at him. She was different tonight, the death of her father notwithstanding. There wasn’t that hard, angry edge she’d used with him before. And would no doubt use again, once she found out what her father had done to her.
    The sight of her in her nightclothes stirred something inside him. She was a slim woman, sweetly curved where it counted. He wondered what she looked like beneath the layers of flannel. Skin, smooth and creamy everywhere, if the skin at her neck was any indication. A tiny waist. High, firm breasts—with pale, pink nipples, he mused. Long, shapely legs, tightly muscled, strong enough to grip the sides of Baptiste’s black belly—or his own thighs. Hadn’t he wondered about that the day she’d taken the stallion out for a run? And at the juncture of her thighs, a thatch of thick, wheat-colored hair …
    He looked at his plate and mouthed an oath, for thinking of her body did wild things to his own. A lot of good it would do him. Once she heard his news, his hide wouldn’t be worth a loose shithouse brick in a wind storm.
    “I … I suppose you’ll be moving on.” Her voice disrupted his troubled thoughts.
    He took a slurp of coffee and washed down the mouthful of pie, then stopped eating and waited. He had to tell her. Oh, God, he had to tell her! Well, life ’ s been good, Wolf, old man. Pity it has to end.
    He cleared his throat. “Miss Julia—”
    “No,” she interrupted, waving her hand at him. “Wait. I know I’ve never given you any reason to stay. I was less than hospitable, and my attitude toward you was inexcusable.”
    She wouldn’t look at him, keeping her gaze on her lap. “Things are pretty bad around here, Mr. McCloud. I mean, since the drought, we no longer have a cash crop. Only a few walnut trees and too many fruit trees. There’s little money coming in … Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no money coming in.”
    Her vulnerability surprised him. And touched him. He didn’t know how to deal with it.
    “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Suddenly her voice held the peevishness he’d come to expect from her. It made him more comfortable.
    “You want me to stay and work for you for nothing, is that it?” Tell her, fool.
    She lifted a skeptical, tawny eyebrow. “I should have known better than to ask.”
    “Then you are asking me to stay.” His gaze dropped to her hands, which were spread on top of the table, noting that her nails were short but well cared for. He also saw how roughened and callused her hands were.
    A queer feeling of pity dug into his gut, and he remembered how she’d worked this place as hard as any man.
    “Surely you wouldn’t. Especially if I can’t pay you.”
    “Then you aren ’ t asking me to stay.” She was proud and strong, and he didn’t deserve her or anything she had to offer—willingly or otherwise. He should forget the whole idea. Amos obviously hadn’t gotten around to telling her what they’d agreed to do.
    She uttered an exasperated sigh, pursing her lips the way she did when she was annoyed. “I know I’ll live to regret it, but yes. At least think about it. No one else has anyone to spare, so I guess you’re it. But why you’d be willing, I’ll never know, especially since Josette isn’t here.”
    Her stern demeanor made him smile. “How can I refuse such an enthusiastic offer?”
    “Don’t get cocky, Mr. McCloud. I can just as easily change my mind.”
    He forced a smile . And you will, pretty Julia. You will.
    “You can sleep in the barn,” she snapped. “There should be a dry spot in there somewhere, if not with the horses, then maybe with the pigs.”
    The tight muscles in his neck loosened up as soon as she began to sound like herself. “Miss Julia, I know you don’t raise pigs. Don’t go getting my hopes up, you hear?”
    “You know what I mean. Sleep anywhere you