Page 21 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

Reagan grinned. “Now I don’tthinkI’m going to like you. IknowI am.” Laughing, she took one of Emma’s bags and started into the house before Cade could protest. “I’ll put you in Eli’s old room downstairs. There’s a bathroom attached so you can grab that shower. I’ll make you a sandwich and leave it just inside the door on the dresser while you’re showering. That cool?”

“I might be a little in love with you.”

“Nah. You just love me for my efficiency.”

The women laughed, and Cade’s brows winged down as he watched them disappear down the hall and around the corner to the stairs, chattering all the way. “Why do I feel like I just got my ass handed to me but Reagan got a gold star?”

Eli shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “Probably because our asses were just parked on the chopping block. But Reagan played the Female Solidarity card. We can’t hang with that.”

“I guess not.” Cade shook his head. “Why’d Reagan have to put her downstairs?”

Eli rounded on him slowly. “About that...”

“I’m tired and I’m hungry. Just leave the whole thing alone.”

“I’m going to want details.”

“Said every man who suspects sex is involved in a story.” Cade ran his hands through his hair.

“Is it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Cade murmured, moving past Eli and into the house.

What Reagan had told Emma was true. Therewasa bathroom attached to Eli’s old room—a Jack-and-Jill type bath that was linked to another room.

His.

7

EMMASTRIPPEDDOWNto the skin and stepped into the bathroom, locking both doors before starting the shower. Adjusting the water temperature to somewhere near “sanitize,” she slipped under the spray and cursed the heat until she acclimated. Then she grabbed the bar of soap and washrag Reagan had provided. Scrubbing seemed insufficient. Sandblasting would be so much more appropriate given the travel grime that clung to her.

Not even her current level of grunge could stop her from appreciating the way her muscles had been truly well used. There was only one person, oneman, to thank for that.

Cade.

She parked her palms on the front shower wall and let the water pound into her shoulders.What am I going to do about him?

They’d shared something incredible tonight, something the likes of which she’d only read about when she indulged in a hot romance novel. This, though? This had been the real deal.

A shiver that had nothing to do with water temperature and everything to do with sensory memory rolled through her. It started at her head and raced to her feet, curling her toes.The man’s skills should come with a serious warning.

Her hand traced the contour of one breast. Her nipple pearled as she imagined it was Cade’s hand touching her, Cade’s hand caressing her.

What was stopping her from having more than that one incredible encounter? She could have a short, illicit fling. Women in her office were always engaged in such things. The few friends she had seemed to have either been with one man forever or were forever changing men. Why couldn’t she be one of them? Why couldn’tshebe the one they envied as they sat around a Sunday morning brunch table relaying the week’s hardships—and exploits? Her breathing grew heavier. If Cade were willing,she could be that woman.

A harder shiver raced through her at the mental image, followed by a sharp knock on the bathroom door. Expecting Reagan with the shampoo and conditioner she’d asked to borrow—something she’d forgotten to pack on her hasty exit from New York—Emma stuck her head around the curtain and called out, “Come in.”

Cade stepped through the door. Shirtless. The man was shirtless.

It was the first time she’d had the opportunity to consider him in full light. If Edison hadn’t been dead, she’d have sent a thank-you card, because damn, the man was a thing of hard lines and rough beauty. Her fingers curled into her palms with the urge to touch him, to trace the sinewy length of arms, the peaks and valleys of that muscular chest and the ripped abs. She wanted to taste the salt on his skin with less frenzy, savoring every nip and bite and soothing caress.

“Brought down the sandwich. It’s on the dresser in your room. Also, Reagan said you need shampoo and conditioner. There’s a brand-new bottle down here. It’s one of those two-in-one things.” He dug around under the sink. “Here it is.” He stood and made to offer her the bottle, freezing mid-gesture. “Emma?”

She could only imagine what he saw when he considered her—makeup gone, hair wet, her skin pale. Shaking her head, she held out the hand not clutching the shower curtain to her chest. “Thanks for the sandwich and shampoo.” Her words were so soft they were nearly lost in the patter of water from the showerhead and the constant hum of the bathroom fan.

Cade didn’t move.

She smiled a little at his fumble.