“Really?” he countered, obviously surprised. “A teddy? Why did you have to give me an image of what nice little old ladies might wear under their clothes?”
Brooke grinned.
“And how bad is it, that Galimi should be so upset?”
“There’s a little . . . leather involved,” she said, suddenly feeling hot and uncomfortable. She didn’t want to talk about this stuff with a man she had no business kissing, but it seemed . . . exciting. She told herself to cut it out. “Some of the stuff might not be appropriate for window display, but Em has been to their San Francisco store, and she assures me their windows are tasteful and beautiful.”
“So you’re for it.”
He was eyeing her too closely, and she was feeling way too cocky. “Of course. Every cowgirl needs pretty underwear to feel like a woman under her muddy clothes.”
In a low voice, he said, “You felt like a woman yesterday.”
She swallowed hard, swamped by memories of the passionate kiss they’d exchanged in another truck cab. “Hey, that’s crossing a line.”
He straightened. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“Look, we don’t have a relationship beyond work. Let’s just pretend we’re in high school again. You certainly didn’t want anything to do with me then, so let’s recapture those feelings.”
“What are you talking about? The only thing I remember us clashing over was your insistence that I needed help with my homework. I was pretty offended.”
“Offended? Why? Because I thought you were smart and you could do more and I wanted to help?”
“Whoa, wait a minute. You may have thought you were being helpful, but I smelled pity, and I didn’t appreciate it. I’m getting enough of that from our grandmas, who must have schemed to get me this job.”
“Pity?” she echoed, surprised. “I never pitied you, not even in high school. I saw potential, and thought you needed help finding it. You didn’t take help from me, so obviously you found it from someone else. Whoever it was, I’m glad. You’ve made your grandma so proud. She hardly pities you—unless it was because you were sweetly hanging around the boardinghouse to be with her, and she figured you must be going crazy. That’s not pity. She was helping you.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “ ‘Sweetly’?” he said, his voice once again laced with faint amusement.
She concentrated on driving across the snowy road winding its way between pastures toward the ranch. “Look, my family isn’t pitying you either.”
He ignored her insistence. “Your problem is that you’re bossy and think you know everything, including how other people feel. That hasn’t changed.”
She pulled into the yard in front of the ranch house, the sun long gone, the last grayness of twilight still hovering about. She threw the pickup into park and turned to face him across the console between the two seats. “But I am your boss, and I do know everything.”
Or so she kept telling herself because she wanted to fling herself across the console and kiss him. He infuriated her, he aroused her. All these emotions roiled around inside her until she could barely remember her promises to herself.
He put a hand on the console, leaning toward her, a light in his eyes that practically burned her, it was so smoldering.
And then she caught sight of movement on the front porch and realized someone was there. Good God, she’d almost been seen kissing him!
Chapter Eight
Adam’s usual caution was deserting him where Brooke was concerned. Sparring with her was turning him on, overwhelming his normal good sense. It reminded him a bit of the battlefield, where you had to rely on your intuition but take risks. He leaned toward her, knew she wanted him to—then she gaped as she stared past him out the windshield.
“Someone’s there,” she hissed.
He saw the panic in her face and knew she worried about being seen doing something inappropriate with him, as if she feared being thought unworthy at her job. It softened something inside of him.
Both of them opened their doors and jumped to the ground. A shot of pain went up his thigh, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to take it easy.
“Hi, Brooke, Adam!” Mrs. Thalberg called.
He gave a short wave.
“Hey, Mom,” Brooke said too loudly. “Just got back from picking up the supplies.”
“Good, good. I’m feeling well enough that I cooked supper tonight. Adam, care to join us?”
“Thank you, ma’am, sounds good.”
“Is a half hour okay?”
“No problem, Mom,” Brooke said. “We’ll just finish up and be inside by then.”