Angela Roberts has just shown up at James McMillan’s door claiming his brother, Reese, sold her his half of their prosperous Colorado horse ranch...“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. I own half this ranch, whether you like it or not. And if you insist on making me leave, I promise you I’ll be back with the sheriff.”
Great. Just freakin’ great. Sheriff Martin would pounce like a mountain lion on a chance to make James miserable. And if she got that vindictive old cuss involved, the story of Reese’s stupidity would be all over town by nightfall.
His frustration must have shown on his face because a knowing smile curved those luscious lips. James propped his hands on his hips in defeat and took a step back. “Fine. You wanna play house, lady, be my guest. Just don’t get too comfortable.”
With a toss of her head, she picked up her suitcase, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor of the foyer as she strode past him. It took all James’ self-control not to give her denim-clad ass a swat as she passed by.
No comments:
Post a Comment