Okay, this was interesting. “Not the greatest what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.” She tore into the bun.

Royce grinned. “Were you going to say lover?”

“No.” But everything in her body language told him she was lying.

He gazed at her profile for a long minute.

Eighteen. She was eighteen when she took up with Hargrove. Royce could be wrong, but he didn’t think he was. Amber hadn’t had any other lovers. She was dissatisfied with Hargrove, but she had no comparison.

Interesting. He chewed a hunk of his own bun.

A woman deserved at least one comparison.

“What did you find?” Royce’s voice from the office doorway interrupted Amber’s long day of office work.

The sun was descending toward the rugged mountains, while neat piles of bills and correspondence had slowly grown out of the chaos on the desktop in front of her.

Now she stretched her arm out to place a letter on the farthest pile. It was another advertisement for horse tack. She was fairly sure the junk mail could be tossed out, but she wasn’t about to make that decision on her own.

“You’ve got some overdue bills,” she answered Royce, twisting her head to see him lounging in the doorway, one broad shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his hair mussed and sweaty across his forehead and a streak of dirt marring his roughened chin. She met his deep blue gaze, and a surge of longing clenched her chest.

“Pay them,” he suggested in a sexy rumble, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You going to hand over your platinum card?”

His lips parted in a grin. “Sure.”

“Then you better have a high limit. Some of them are six figures.” Feed, lumber, vet bills. The list went on and on.

He eased away from the door frame and ambled toward her. “There must be a checkbook around here somewhere.”

“I didn’t see one.” Not that she’d combed through the desk drawers. There was plenty to do sorting through what was piled on top. “How long did you say McQuestin had been off?”

“Three weeks. Why?”

“Some of these bills are two months old. That’s hell on your credit rating, you know.”

He moved closer, and she forced herself to drag her gaze from his rangy body.

To distract herself, she lifted the closest unopened envelope and sliced through the seam with the ivory-handled opener, extracting another folded invoice. The distraction didn’t help. Her nostrils picked up his fresh, outdoorsy scent, and his arm brushed her shoulder, sending an electric current over her skin as he slid open a top desk drawer.

Lifting several items out of the way, he quickly produced a narrow, leather-bound booklet and tossed it on the desk. “Here you go. Start protecting my credit rating.”

“Like the bank would honor my signature.” She knew she should shift away, but something magnetic kept her sitting right where she was, next to his narrow hip and strong thigh. She didn’t even care that his jeans were dusty.

Not that it would matter if anything rubbed off. She was dressed in a plain, khaki T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans she’d borrowed from Stephanie’s cache in the upstairs bedroom. She could press herself against Royce from head to toe, and simply clean up later with soap and water.

The idea was far too appealing. She felt heat flare in the pit of her stomach as an image bloomed in her mind.

“I’ll sign a bunch for you.” His voice interrupted her burgeoning fantasy as he flipped open the checkbook.

She blinked herself back to reality. “I assume you’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” He leaned over, hunting through the drawer again, bringing himself into even closer contact with her.

She shifted imperceptibly in his direction, and his cotton-clad arm brushed her bare one. She sucked in a tight breath.

He retrieved a pen.

She suddenly realized he was serious, and placed her hand over the top check. “You can’t do that.”

He turned, pen poised, bringing their faces into close proximity. “Why not?”

“Because I could write myself a check, a very big check, and then cash it.”

He rolled his eyes

“Don’t give me that ‘shucks ma’am’ expression-”

‘“Shucks, ma‘am’?”

“You didn’t just wander in off the back forty. You know I could drain your account.”

“Would you?”

“I could,” she stressed. Theoretically, of course.

He twirled the pen over two fingers until it settled into his palm. “And then what?”

“And then I disappear. Tahiti, Grand Cayman.”

“I’d find you.”

“So what?” She shrugged. “What could you do? The money would already be in a Swiss bank account.”

He braced one hand against the desk and moved the other to the back of her chair, bending slightly over. “Then I’d ask you, politely, for the number.”

She was blocked by the V of his arms. It was unnerving, but also exciting. He emanated strength, power and raw virility.

“And if I refuse to tell you?” she challenged, voice growing breathy.

“I’d stop being polite.”

“What? You’d threaten to break my legs?”

He smiled and leaned closer. Self-preservation told her to shrink away, but the chair back kept her in place. His sweet breath puffed against her skin. “Violence? I don’t think so. But there are other ways to be persuasive.”

She struggled for a tone of disbelief. “What? You kiss me and I swoon?”

His grin widened. “Maybe. Let’s try it.”

And before she could react, he’d swooped in toward her. She gasped as his smooth lips settled on hers. They were warm and firm, and incredibly hot, as the contact instantly escalated to a serious kiss.

It took her only seconds to realize how much she’d longed for his taste. His scent filled her, and his hands settled on her sides, surrounding her rib cage as he deepened the kiss. Her head tipped back, and her mouth responded to his pressure by opening, allowing him access, drinking in the sensation of his intimate touch.

She clutched his upper arms, steadying herself against his hard, taut muscles. He flexed under her touch, and she imagined she could feel the blood coursing through his body. She could definitely feel the blood coursing through her own. It heated her core, flushed her skin and made her tingle from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

His hands convulsed against her body, thumbs tightening beneath her breasts. Her nipples hardened almost painfully as arousal thumped its way to the apex of her thighs. She gave him her tongue, answering his own erotic invitation. A river of sound roared in her ears as he drew her to her feet, engulfing her, pressing her against his hard body.

His touch was unique, yet achingly familiar, as if she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. Her palms slid across his shoulders, around his neck, stroking the slick sweat of his hairline as their kiss pulsed endlessly between them.

His hands slipped to her buttocks, pulling her against the cradle of his thighs, demonstrating the depth of his arousal and shocking her back to her senses.

She jerked away, hands pressing against his chest, putting a barrier between them. He leaned in, trying to capture her mouth.

“I can’t,” she gasped.

He froze.

“I’m…uh…” She wasn’t exactly sorry. That had definitely been the best kiss of her life. But she couldn’t take things any further. They barely knew each other. She’d only just left Hargrove. And she hadn’t come to Montana for casual sex.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She tried to take a step back, but the damn chair still blocked her way. “This is too fast,” she explained, struggling to bring both her breathing and her pulse rate back under control.

He heaved an exasperated sigh. “It was a kiss, Amber.”

But they both knew it was more than a kiss. Then, to her mortification, her gaze reflexively flicked below his waistline.

He gave a knowing chuckle, and she wished the floor would swallow her whole.

“Are you blushing?” he asked.

“No.” But she couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You seemed a whole lot more sophisticated when we met in the lounge,” he ventured.

She couldn’t interpret his flat tone, so she braved a glance at his expression. Was he annoyed?

He looked annoyed.

She hadn’t intended to lead him on. Nor had she meant for the kiss to spiral out of control.

Surely he could understand that.

Or was he always so quick to leap to expectations?

Then, an unsettling thought hit her. What if Royce hadn’t leaped to expectations in the past two minutes? What if his expectations had been there since their meeting in the lounge?

Had she been hopelessly naive? Did he consider her a one-or two-night stand?

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asked, watching closely, giving him the chance to deny it.

“Depends,” he said, cocking his head and giving her a considering look. “On what you mean by that.”

“Because you thought I’d sleep with you?”

“It had crossed my mind,” he admitted.

Her embarrassment turned to anger. “Seriously?”

He sighed. “Amber-”

“You are the most egotistical, opportunistic-”

“Hey, you were the one who was dressed to kill and insisted on ‘taking a ride in my jet plane.’”

“That wasn’t a euphemism for sex.”

“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised. “It usually is.”

Amber compressed her lips. How had she been so naive? How could she have been so incredibly foolish? Royce wasn’t some knight in shining armor. He was a charming, wealthy, well-groomed pickup artist.

Her distaste was replaced again by embarrassment. She’d proposed paying her way here by doing office work. He’d had a completely different line of work in mind.