Caleb set down the papers and turned to prop himself against the lip of the desk. “I guessed maybe Reed and the old man had a fight, and leaving me the ranch was Wilton’s revenge.”

“They had about a thousand fights.”

Caleb gave a cold chuckle. “Wilton fought with me, too. A guy couldn’t do anything right when it came to my old man. If you piled the manure to the right, he wanted it to the left. You used the plastic manure fork, you should have used the metal one. You started brushing from the front of the horse, you should have started from the back-” He stopped himself. Just talking about it made his stomach churn. How the hell Reed had put up with it for ten extra years was beyond Caleb. The guy deserved a medal.

“My theory,” said Mandy, moving farther into the dimly lit room, “is that once you were gone, he forgot you were such a failure.” An ironic smile took the sting out of her words.

“While Reed was still here to keep screwing up over and over again?”

“Got a better theory?”

“He found my corporation thanks to Google and decided I was worth a damn?” Even as he said the words, Caleb knew it was impossible. He’d spent the better part of his adult life warning himself not to look for his father’s approval. There was nothing down that road but bitter disappointment.

Mandy perched herself on the inset, cushioned window seat. She was silhouetted now by the lights from the yard. “You have to know you are worth a damn.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Reed’s worth a damn, too.”

“No argument from me.”

She tucked her feet up onto the wide, bench seat, and he noticed she was wearing whimsical sky-blue-and-pale-pink, mottled socks. It surprised him. Made her seem softer somehow, more vulnerable.

“I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush to sell,” she said.

“That’s because you live in the Lyndon Valley and not in Chicago.”

“Rash decisions are compulsory in Chicago?”

He moved across the room and took the opposite end of the bench, angling his body toward her and bracing his back against the wall, deciding there was no reason not to give her an explanation. “I’ve had two weeks to think about it.”

“Reed had ten years.”

“In many ways, so did I.”

Mandy shifted her position, smoothing her loose hair back from her face. His gaze hungrily followed her motion.

“Did you ever wish you’d stayed?”

He hesitated at the unsettling question, not sure how to answer. Back then, he’d second-guessed himself for months, even years, over leaving Reed. But it all came down to Wilton. “He killed my mother,” Caleb said softly. “I couldn’t reward him for that.”

“She died of pneumonia.”

“Because it was left untreated. Because she was terrified of telling him she was sick. Because he would have berated and belittled her for her weakness. Terrells are not weak.”

“I never thought you were.”

“I’m not,” he spat, before he realized it wasn’t Mandy he was angry with.

She tossed back her hair. “Reed wasn’t weak. Yet, he stayed.”

“He squared it in his head somehow.”

Reed claimed he wanted to protect his mother’s heritage, since half the ranch had belonged to her family. Which, looking back, was obviously the reason Wilton had married her. The man was incapable of love.

“She was twenty years younger than him,” Caleb remembered. “Did you know that?”

“I knew she was younger. I didn’t know by how much. I remember thinking she was beautiful.” Mandy’s voice became introspective. “I remember wishing I could be that beautiful.”

Caleb couldn’t hold back his opinion. “You are that beautiful.”

Mandy laughed. “No, I’m not.” She held out her hands. “Calluses. I have calluses. Danielle has a perfect French manicure, and I have calluses.” She peered at her small hands. “I think there might even be dirt under my fingernails.”

“Danielle has never had to clean tack.”

“No kidding.”

“I mean, she lives a completely different life than you do.”

Mandy’s face twisted into a grimace. “She goes to parties and I shovel manure?”

“Her world is all about image. Yours is all about practicality.”

“I’m just a sturdy, little workhorse, aren’t I?”

“Are you wallowing in self-pity, Mandy Jacobs?”

She went silent, her glare speaking for her.

Caleb moved inches closer, fighting a grin of amusement. “Are you by any chance jealous of Danielle?”

Mandy tossed back her hair in defiance. “Jealous of a stunningly beautiful, elegant, intelligent, successful lawyer, who’s flying off to Rio-”

“Sao Paulo,” Caleb corrected, enjoying the flash of emotion that appeared deep within Mandy’s green eyes.

“They’re both in Brazil.”

“It’s a big country. One’s a beach resort, the other’s full of skyscrapers, banks and boardrooms.” He fought the urge to reach out and touch her. “But I’d take you to Rio if that’s where you wanted to go.”

She cocked her head sideways. “You’d take me to Rio?”

“I would.” He dared stroke an index finger across the back of her hand. “We’d dress up, and go dancing at a real club and have blender drinks on the beach. You could even get a manicure if you’d like.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

He met her gaze full on. “Absolutely.”

“You have women like Danielle in your life, and yet you’re flirting with me?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Caleb debated for a moment before answering. But then he reminded himself he was in Colorado. People were forthright around here. And he owed Mandy no less than she was giving him.

“Because you’re real,” he told her. “You’re not some plastic package, constructed to appeal to a man’s anthropological triggers. When you laugh, it’s because you’re happy. When you argue, it’s because you have a point to make. And when your eyes smolder, it’s because you’re attracted to me, not because you’ve spent days and weeks practicing the exact, right look to make a man think you’re interested in him.”

“I’m not interested in you.”

“But you are.” He smoothed a stray lock of her hair and tucked it behind one ear. “That’s what’s so amazing about you. Your body language doesn’t lie.”

“And if my body language slaps you across the face?”

“I hope it’ll be because I’ve done something to deserve it.” Because, then the slap would be worth it.

“You’re impossible.” But her voice had gone bedroom husky. Her pupils were dilated, and her dark pink lips were softened, slightly parted.

“It’s not me you’re fighting,” he told her.

She didn’t answer. Her breathing grew deeper while a pink flush stained her cheeks.

He moved the last couple of inches. Then he dared to bracket her face with his hands. Her skin was smooth, warm and soft against his palms. His pulse jumped, desire igniting a buzz deep in his belly.

He bent his head forward, his lips parting in anticipation of her taste. He hadn’t even kissed her yet, and desire was turning his bloodstream into a tsunami.

She sucked in a quick breath, her jade-green eyes fluttering closed.

Caleb could tell stop signals from go signals, and this was definitely a go. Her head tilted sideways, as she leaned into his palm. He crossed the final inches, her sweet breath puffing against his face in the split second before his lips touched hers.

Desire exploded in his chest. He’d meant it to be a gentle kiss, but raw passion pushed him forward.

He’d known it would be good, guessed she would taste like ambrosia, but nothing had prepared him for the rush of raw lust that made his arms wrap around her and his entire body harden to steel.

He opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. She whimpered in surrender, giving him access, her small tongue parrying with his, while his broad palm stroked its way from her waist to her hip, to the curve at the side of her breast.

He shifted his body, pulling her into his lap, never breaking the kiss as her soft, pert behind settled against him. He raked the satin of her hair out of the way, his fingertips convulsing against her scalp. Her small hands clung to his shoulders, hanging on tight, while her rounded breasts pressed erotically against his chest.

He wanted to rip off her clothes, push her back on the seat, or down on the floor, and ravage her body until neither of them could see straight. He knew he couldn’t do that, knew he was losing control, knew he had to drag them back to reality before their passion got completely out of control.

But then her hot hands slid the length of his chest, and he put sanity on hold. She freed the buttons of his cotton shirt, her palms searing into his bare skin.

His hand closed over her breast, feeling its weight through the fabric of her shirt and the lace of her bra. He kissed her harder, deeper, settling her more firmly on the heat of his need. Her kisses trailed to his chest, over his pecs, across one flat nipple, and he groaned in reaction.

“We can’t,” he whispered harshly, even as he buried his face in her fragrant hair and prayed she’d keep going.

She stilled, her breath cooling a damp spot on his bare skin.

They were both silent for a long moment, while Caleb tried unsuccessfully to bring his emotions under control.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lips grazing his skin.

“Are you kidding me?” he breathed. He forced himself to draw back, tipping up her chin and gazing into her passion-clouded eyes. “I have never-”

The cell phone in her jeans pocket buzzed, startling them both.

“-ever,” he continued, trying to hold her gaze, reluctant to let the moment go.

The cell phone buzzed again.

“Fortuitous?” she asked, seeming to regain her equilibrium.

“Not the word I would have used.” He sighed.

She shifted off his lap, slipping her hand into her jeans pocket to retrieve the cell phone.