The Texas Rancher's Vow

So Jen did the only thing she could do.

She gave up trying to convince him of the truth and took another approach. One that a man like him would buy.

Dropping all pretext of innocence, she threw up her hands and sashayed toward him like a hussy on the hunt. “You’re right.” Reaching behind him, she shut the bedroom door, then swung back around to face him. “Why deny it?” Her heart pounding, she glided even closer and lifted a hand to his hard chest. “I did come out here looking for another rich husband.” She splayed her fingers over his heart. “But it’s not your father I want, Matt,” she confessed, even more softly. “It’s you.”

His eyes smoldered. He caught her wrist and held her away. “Very funny.”

Her instinct was to fight his grip. Instead, she relaxed into it. Pretended she wanted him to touch her. Moved closer still.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Aware what a dangerous game she was playing, she brought her other hand up to trace his lower lip. “You’re a vibrant and sexy guy.” Surely, in another second or two he’d realize how ridiculous this all was.

“Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome.” She continued her litany of his attributes. “What’s not to like?” She let her fingers sift through his dark, curly hair, stroke the shell of his ear, feel the pulse in his throat.

“It’s not going to work.” He stared at her, daring her to get past his tough exterior.

“Sure about that?” Jen prodded, her ego suddenly in play. She extricated her wrist from his hand. “Sure you don’t want to make a pass at me, just a little bit?”

Again he refused to budge.

“What if I want to make a pass at you?” With both hands free, she wreathed her arms around his neck.

To her disappointment, he didn’t respond.

“What if I want to kiss you…” She rose on tiptoe and, with lust pouring through her, brushed her lips ever so briefly across the scruff on his jaw. “Just like this…”

Matt remained still as a statue. The only hint that he might be affected by her outrageous ploy was the heat emanating from his body, the thudding of his heart and lower, the unmistakable imprint of desire.

“You really want to find out?” he asked hoarsely.

Did she? Jen tilted her head and searched his eyes.

Maybe not…

She stepped back slightly, telling herself that she had made her point.

Then, to her shock, Matt made his. His arms clamped around her, tugging her close again. Suddenly, she was anchored against him in a way that thoroughly outlined the challenge he presented to her.

Aware that it was her turn to call his bluff, she narrowed her eyes and declared, “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

Matt lifted an eyebrow, lowered his head and growled, “Yeah? Watch me.”

Chapter Three

Matt had not expected their confrontation to end with a kiss. But as he gave into instinct and flattened one hand against her spine and slid the other through the silk of her hair, he knew that was exactly where it was headed. Trouble was, one kiss wouldn’t begin to satisfy the desire pouring through him. Not when he brushed her mouth lightly with his; not when he responded to the slight opening of her lips and moved in to kiss her hard and deep. And

especially not when he heard her make a soft, sexy sound that was part frustration, part need.

And then, suddenly, she was surprising him again by meeting his demand. Going up on tiptoe. Wreathing her arms about his shoulders once again.

Her breasts pressed against his chest. He felt the hardness of her nipples, the quick beating of her heart, the erratic rasp of her breath. And knew he had invited way more than should be happening….

Jen knew Matt was only trying to prove a point.

She was proving one, too. Not only could she handle a forbidden kiss. Or two. Or in this case, three… She could handle him.

Yes, he was hard and sexy. Yes, he looked really hot, whether dressed up, as he’d been the first time they’d met, or in a simple chambray shirt and worn jeans, as he was now.

Yes, he knew how to fit her against him for maximum contact, angle his head and kiss her breathless.

He tasted good. A combination of cool spearmint, warm summer sun…and man.

And he made her feel wonderful.

All soft and willing and womanly.

Even when she knew she was not going to let this go any further than it already had, for fear her knees would collapse under her and she’d lose what precious little common sense she had left.

Not when this was solely for the purpose of proving a point.

Deliberately, Jen broke off the kiss.

Ignoring the molten look in his eyes, she drew a halting breath and stepped back. Watched him get control of his faculties, too.

She struggled for calm, reminding herself this was very dangerous territory they were in. “Look. I get you trying to control everything, because there have been times when I tried to do that, too. But life doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to control someone else’s actions or prevent their mistakes. Never mind engineer their epiphanies.”

He quirked a brow but allowed her to continue.

Jen aimed a lecturing finger at the center of his chest. “You get to be the master of your destiny. Make your own decisions. Control your own reactions to things. And that, pal, is it.”

Matt’s lips compressed. “Sounds like the credo for Al-Anon,” he said, in a voice dripping with cynicism.

Reeling from the verbal left hook, Jen sucked in an anguished breath. She had expected Matt to fight hard. But this was a low blow. She scowled at him, making no effort to hide her resentment. “Nice, Briscoe, bringing that up.”

Shock had him going completely still.

Jen groaned and bit down on an oath. Darn it all. He didn’t know!

Working to get her pulse under control, she slid him a look. “I thought you had me investigated.”

He met her gaze, his eyes dark and heated. “Briefly. Just in terms of your professional expertise and general background.”

She studied him intently. “Then you know I grew up in the economically disadvantaged part of Austin.”

“And that your mom died when you were three, and your dad raised you,” he stated in a quiet voice.

Her stomach quivered. This was stuff she never discussed. “What else?”

Matt cocked his head, still studying her. “That your father was a self-employed housepainter who worked sporadically, usually eking out just enough to get by.”