When It's Right (14 page)

Gillian snuggled her cheek against Boots's nose. “He's not going to do anything of the sort.”

Blake made short work of washing down Boots, who stayed perfectly still as long as Gillian kept talking sweet to him. Blake grew more aroused by the minute as her hot gaze raked over every inch of his body as he worked. She liked his arms. Every time he flexed, her eyes zeroed in on them. He'd even caught her sweep the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. The sexy as hell move nearly sent him to his knees to beg her to put him out of his misery. He'd never wash another horse again without thinking about her in those tight jeans and T-­shirt with no bra to hide her tight nipples from his view. Just watching him move made her aroused. He desperately wanted to get his hands on her. God, how he wanted her.

“Come on, let's put him back in his warm stall, and I'll show you how to feed him,” Blake said.

It took Gillian a full five seconds to tear her eyes off his chest and meet his gaze. He smiled, and she sighed. Yep, she was as lost as he was in this thing between the two of them.

His desire for
her grew more intense over the next five days. He spent most of his days in her company. Determined to do her part on the ranch, she cared for Boots and shadowed him through his workday, helping out wherever she could. Justin stayed with his grandfather after school, having a blast riding the tractor and watching the men stack hay in one of the barns.

Unable to help himself, he studied her every move. Smart, she learned things quickly and only had to be told something once. When she tried to figure something out on her own, she squinted her eyes and scrunched her lips. She ended every meal with one of the chocolate chip cookies Dee made. Her laugh came out soft and lilting when she allowed herself to give in to it. The one thing that got to him more than anything was her insatiable need to be with the horses. She loved them. Everything about her calmed and relaxed when she spent time with them.

She didn't back away from him every time he got too close. If he accidentally brushed up against her, or touched her shoulder to get her attention, she didn't flinch. Spending time together, getting to know each other a little bit at a time while they worked, eased her guard around him. Progress. But the compulsion to touch her grew more and more each and every second he spent with her, which is why he'd resorted to hiding in the office today. He couldn't work beside her right now, or he'd give in to his compulsion to touch her beyond tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

Not an option. Hands off, man. Keep your mind on work and off her.

Someone knocked on the door. He growled out, “What!”

Gillian opened the door and peeked in. He didn't get up to greet her from where he sat behind his cluttered desk in the corner of the room; couldn't really, without revealing the bulge in his jeans. If he saw her, heard her voice, his damn dick snapped to attention, begging for him to bury it deep inside her soft body. God, how he wanted her.

Why wouldn't she go away and stop unknowingly torturing him for five minutes?

He hit save on the spreadsheet, narrowed his eyes, and scowled at her. He didn't really mean it. His own damn fault he couldn't control his thoughts and needs around her. Better to hide out with his numbers than lose everything by doing something stupid like grabbing her, crushing her to his aching body, and kissing her.

“Blake, your mom is downstairs. She'd like you to come down and see her.”

He'd spent half the day avoiding Gillian and all day thinking about her. Now, she'd hunted him down, and all he wanted to do was take her in the other room and lay her out on the bed and cover her with his body and make love to her until morning.

On the other hand, he wanted her to go away. She made him ache. Thoughts of her kept him awake long into the night. He hadn't slept well knowing that she was only a short walk away and a million miles away emotionally. The bruises on her face had almost faded away. The last of the stitches on her back were probably ready to come out. Each and every day, she got stronger, more confident here on the ranch.

“Fine.” He tried to ignore her, kept his focus on the computer screen, and entered another set of numbers into the machine from hell.

She walked up behind him and leaned over, distracting him with the soft touch of her hand on his shoulder, her sweet, flowery scent, and the silky strands of hair that tickled the back of his neck as they fell over her shoulder and lay down his back. She studied the screen without noticing he'd gone completely rigid beside her. Did she know she touched him more and more often without even thinking about it? Probably not. She was still ignoring the pull between them. She was still ignoring him. He smelled that damn shampoo with its flowers-­and-­citrus scent. He swore that smell lingered on the air for hours after she left the stable. He smelled it over the horses. He smelled it when he went to sleep.

“Why are you doing the calculations on the calculator and not having the computer do them for you?” Even her sweet voice tempted him.

He sucked in a breath and let it go more irritated, because he could smell her even better now that she had her hand next to his on the desk as she leaned down and stared at the screen. If he leaned back, her breast would press against his shoulder. He remained still. Very, very still.

“Because I need to do several calculations to get this column here.” He pointed to the numbers on the screen, then went back to tapping the keys on the calculator and ignoring his throbbing body, despite the fact he punched in half the numbers wrong.

“What are the calculations?”

Better to think about numbers than making love to her. “I have to add up these columns, take the total, and multiply it by twelve for the year. I take that total and multiply it by this row here, and that gives me the total for this column. Then I have to take that total and use it to do some calculations on another spreadsheet over here,” he said and switched the screen to another complicated spreadsheet. He didn't know why he kept trying to get the thing in the computer when he could do it faster by hand.

“Why don't you add a column that has the total of all those columns? Use that to multiply by twelve to get this column. You can use that number to put on this spreadsheet if you have both open at the same time and link them. Do you need to use these figures for projections?” Gillian studied the columns and figures.

He made the mistake of turning his head to look at her and found himself inches from her mouth. He stared into her expectant eyes. Too bad she expected an answer and not a hot, searing kiss to ease the ache in his belly and between his legs.

Her eyes narrowed when he didn't say anything. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“No.”
Yes. You stand here not knowing what brushing up so close does to me. I want you.
I need you.
“Everything is fine. I do the projections over here on this paper. I don't have them in the computer. I hate this thing. It won't do what it's supposed to.”

“Don't be silly. It'll do anything you tell it to do. Watch.” She took the mouse from his hand, her fingertips brushing his despite how hard she tried not to hit him with her cast. If she noticed the zap of electricity arcing between them, she ignored it. Like always, maddening him even more.

She added a column to his spreadsheet, dragged the mouse across the numbers he wanted to add, and, with a few clicks, told it to add up the numbers. With a few more clicks and drags, she had one spreadsheet linked to the total on the original spreadsheet.

“There. Now all you have to do is enter the information into the rows and the total on this spreadsheet, and the other will calculate for you.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

“I told you. I took basic accounting in high school. I did the books for a garage. This is just a simple accounting spreadsheet. I can pretty much see what you're trying to figure out here. I can do the projections for you showing you what would happen in one year or five years, depending on the variables you want to use. Whatever you want. There're all kinds of things you can do with these spreadsheets.” She looked at the folders on the desk and sorted through them, her concentration and focus on them, not him.

“For these salaries and benefits, I can set up another spreadsheet that will help you calculate pay increases, tell you how much you paid in salaries for the year, how much taxes are owed, all the deductions. You can total it for the year and use it for taxes next year.”

She grabbed the other set of folders. “You know, you could take this spreadsheet that lists the amount of feed the horses consume and link it to this spreadsheet to determine the amount of feed you need to order and when. That way you only order what you need and the feed is fresh for the horses.”

He watched her, studied the way she concentrated and mulled over her thoughts by biting the corner of her rosy lip. In less than five minutes, she'd gone through much of his paperwork and figured it out and told him how to do it faster and more efficiently. He knew she was smart, he'd just never thought she'd be interested in facts and figures. It seemed, given a chance and some teaching, she was good at everything she tried. Every task she took on, she put all her effort into it and did everything to the best of her ability. She didn't half-­ass anything.

“Fine, you want to take a crack at it? Be my guest. Take all these folders, too. Figure them out. I'm going down to see my mom.”

He needed to get away from her. Her smell, her hair brushing his shoulder, the fact that she was wearing her new jeans that fit her like a second skin, and the fact that he could see the strap of the pink and cream bra he'd bought her peeking out from under her shirt, driving him wild. His heart slammed into his chest. The hard-­on pressed to his fly throbbed and kept time with his thrashing heart. He either needed to take a cold shower or bash his head into the wall. Maybe a little pain would take his mind off her and his aching dick.

He pushed back from the desk, letting the chair roll across the hardwood floor, accidentally ramming the chair arm right into her thigh. She cussed under her breath, bent, and rubbed her hand over her sore leg.

“What the hell?” She hissed in a sharp breath.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Shit. Bud would have his head for hurting her. “I didn't mean to hit you. I'm sorry.” He leaned forward, grabbed her leg, and ran his hand over her thigh. She'd bruise. Again. His stomach went tight and burned like acid. Sick he'd put a mark on her, he dropped his head and pressed his forehead to her hip. “I'm so sorry.”

He glanced up, ready for whatever wrath she wanted to spew at him. Instead, he found her steady gaze filled with concern and what he hoped was a longing that matched his own. Her eyes dipped to his hands wrapped around her thigh. He released her, jumped up, and stalked into the living room space. He kept his back to her as he collected himself, trying to forget that look in her eyes, the feel of her toned muscles under his palms, heaven at his fingertips. When she looked at him like that, her eyes soft, like she wanted him to touch her, she undid him. His heart reached out to her just the way he wanted to do with his hands.

He stood, hands on hips, shoulders rigid, and waited for whatever she said next.

“Blake, what's the matter? Did I do something wrong? You've been moody and avoiding me all day. If I did something to make you angry, I wish you'd tell me what it is. If you don't want me around you anymore, all you have to do is say so.”

“How can you possibly think I don't want you around me?” That was the furthest thing from the truth. He wanted her as close as humanly possible.

Yeah, he was a little ticked. At himself. He felt so much for her that he didn't know what to do with himself, since he couldn't show her how much he wanted her. He tried to take his time. Go slow. But everything inside him wanted her. Right this minute. Now.

He needed the space and time to cool off, but she'd come to him this time. She'd sought him out. That meant something, right? He didn't know. Not for sure. If he made a wrong move, it could blow everything, so he stood there, trying his damnedest to keep his hands to himself.

“You barely spoke to me this morning. You stayed away from me all day. You haven't come into the house to get coffee like you normally do. Just tell me what I did. I'm a big girl. I can take it.”

“What you did?” His anger simmered. Better to be angry than to yank her into his arms and devour her whole. She was completely clueless, and that drove him crazy, too. That, and the fact that she was standing there looking so damn beautiful. Her eyes pleaded with him to say something. How many times had her father blamed her for something she didn't do to make her believe that she caused his bad attitude? Okay, maybe in this case she played a small part, but it was him and his lack of control around her.

No, it was all him. The worst part, he'd made her feel that he didn't want her around him, when his goal from second one when he saw her was to make her want to be with him. His thoughts swirled. He couldn't keep up, so how could she?

“I'll tell you what you did.” He forced the words out. “You showed up here a week ago and turned my whole world upside down. I took one look at you and my heart fell out of my chest and landed at your damn tiny feet. I can't sleep for thinking about you. Every time I'm near you all I want to do is grab you and kiss you. It's all I can do to keep my damn hands off you. And let me tell you this, I'm trying. I'm trying to stay the hell away from you because just being near you is making me crazy.” He ran a hand over the side of his head and shoved both his hands deep into his pockets.

Stunned, she didn't react or say anything, then a soft smile spread across her face. One of those smiles that shows a woman knows something you missed.