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horse around the perimeters of the ranch…or stake them over a den of fire ants, that sort of thing.

      Wade pretended a fascinated interest in the television when he heard Laura stamping back into the room. When she slammed down the glasses of whiskey on his tray, he said, “Took you long enough.”

      “I had to scrounge around the cabinets to locate the hemlock and arsenic,” she muttered spitefully. “Here, pick your poison. Anything else, Your Grumpiness?”

      He flicked his wrist, dismissing her. “That’ll do it.”

      “It’d better.” She performed a quick about-face toward the kitchen. “Otherwise I’ll have to restock the poisons because we’re fresh out. Just my luck that I got stuck with a man who’s just too darn mean to roll over and die after a couple of lethal doses.”

      3

      WHEN LAURA STORMED OFF, Wade broke into a reluctant smile. Who would have thought the timid schoolmarm he’d met only a few hours ago possessed quicksilver sass and lively spirit. Of course, it made getting rid of her more difficult, but it was an entertaining challenge.

      Wade recalled that if he dared to use that snotty tone on Bobbie Lynn, she simpered and mewled until her thick mascara bled like hot tar down her makeup-coated cheeks. However, Laura Seymour didn’t bleed mascara because she didn’t coat her face with war paint. She had the kind of natural beauty and flawless skin that Bobbie Lynn tried to acquire artificially.

      Gawd, why he’d married that woman he couldn’t recall. She’d whined incessantly about the isolation of ranch life. She’d demanded favors for passion and dangled sex in front of him like a carrot before a mule. Fool that he’d been, he’d tried to make her happy, had given into her to make their marriage work because Ryders were supposed to wed forever. At least his parents had. Same went for Vance’s parents, Quint’s parents and Gage’s parents. The four older-generation Ryder brothers had discovered everlasting love and produced four Ryder cousins who’d never found their soul mates.

      Maybe love skipped a generation, Wade mused. He was the only one of the Ryder cousins who’d waded into the wedding pool. He’d failed big time. He’d been such a blind idiot that he’d been the last one to know Bobbie Lynn was fooling around on him and took him to the cleaners when she trotted merrily off to Dallas, leaving him to deal with the humiliation and small-town gossip that spread faster than a plague of locusts.

      Wade had worked double shifts after the financial disaster left in ex-wife’s wake. He’d learned his lesson well. Women would screw you over if you gave them half a chance.

      The reminder of his ex reaffirmed his belief that he never wanted to put himself in a position to be betrayed or rejected again. He was better off without a woman in his life. Yup, he’d just keep hammering away at Laura until she threw up her hands and stalked out—for good. He had enough trouble trying to recuperate from the painful accident. He didn’t want to play the fateful hand women dealt out to men.

      Wade had learned—the hard way—that women always played with loaded dice and they stacked the deck. Yet, even knowing that, Wade couldn’t keep his mind off Laura while he prepared for bed that night. She was in the room next to his, probably peeling off her clothes. All that soft, silky skin bared—

      He inwardly cursed the wayward direction of his thoughts, struggled from his jeans then plopped on the bed. When he noticed a moving shadow in the hall he hurriedly snatched the bedspread over his lap to cover himself.

      He glared at Laura when she stepped uninvited into his bedroom. “Next time try knocking first,” he muttered.

      “Sorry.” Her gaze bounced from his bare chest and bare legs to his face. She blushed, but she moved bravely toward him. “I thought a massage might help you relax.”

      Wade nearly came unglued when she placed her hands on the tense muscles of his neck. “Don’t touch me!” he yelped.

      She snatched her hands away as if she’d been scorched. “I’m only trying to do the job I was hired to do,” she explained as her gaze dipped once again to his chest.

      “Go do it somewhere else.” He clung desperately to the bedspread that concealed his hips. “I don’t want a massage.”

      “You look pretty tensed up to me,” she observed.

      “Maybe it’s because you’re invading my private space when I’m not dressed,” he grumbled, his male pride prodding him. He didn’t want Laura to see his battered and bruised body when, in comparison, she was the picture of health and beauty. This was not helping him feel better about himself.

      She studied him for a pensive moment then smiled down at his scowl. “Know what, Ryder?”

      “No, what, Seymour?” he asked, feeling himself caving beneath her beguiling smile.

      “I still think you’re afraid of me,” she teased playfully. “And you know what else?”

      “I give up. What else?” he questioned, wishing she’d hotfoot it from the room and leave him in peace.

      “I’m going to kill you with kindness while I’m working here. No matter how mean you are to me, you aren’t going to have a single complaint with my work.”

      “Probably not since I’ll be dead,” he countered.

      He hadn’t intended to amuse her with the comment, but apparently he had because she chuckled. “Well, good night then. If you need anything just give a holler. I’ll have your breakfast ready when you get up in the morning.”

      After she exited Wade raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. He wasn’t sure he could keep up this pretense that he disliked Laura when everything in him responded to her disarming smile and her enjoyable companionship.

      Well, he reminded himself as he stretched out gingerly on his bed, he’d just have to try harder to remain remote and distant. He tried to concentrate on ways to alienate Laura, but he was just too exhausted. Sprawled on his back, he fell asleep with forbidden fantasies swirling around his head.

      BY THE TIME WADE HOBBLED into the kitchen the next morning on the crutch he used for balance, Laura had one load of clothes washed and stuffed in the dryer and the rest of the laundry sorted. She also had bacon and pancakes staying warm in the oven.

      “Morning,” she greeted cheerfully.

      Wade mumbled unintelligibly then motioned toward the living room. She presumed he wanted to eat in his recliner so she fixed his plate. Surprisingly he didn’t poke fun at her cooking, just wolfed down the food and asked for more. Although he’d previously announced that he didn’t need her company during meals, Laura grabbed the dust cloth and spiffied up the living room.

      “I really like your ranch,” she said conversationally.

      “It’s mine and you can’t have it,” he replied, flashing her a dark look from beneath lowered brows.

      “Well, shoot, and here I was, ready to write you a check for the place,” she said breezily.

      “Could I have a little more orange juice, ple—” He clamped his mouth shut and glared at her.

      “Sure.” She breezed over to pluck up the empty glass. It amused her that Wade had to force himself not to be polite. She sensed that he wasn’t as mean as he wanted her to think. She’d have to remember that when he purposely goaded her.

      “I thought I’d take a look at your computer programs this afternoon,” she said as she handed him the glass of juice.

      “Fine, whatever,” he mumbled then took a sip.

      “More coffee?” she offered.

      “Yeah, tha—” He closed his mouth and thrust out the cup.

      “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hike around the ranch in my spare time. I haven’t had the chance to go

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