Seduction on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #2) (5 page)

“Gotta wait awhile for Agnes to be ready, okay? A week or two, best I can guess.” Of course, Nonno had left no records of any of the goats’ cycles or births. It was like he’d lost all interest after the hurricane, after Frankie had moved to DC.

She swallowed guilt and refocused on Dominic, who blinked once, his pink gums sliding into what she’d swear was a smile. She tunneled her fingers into his wiry fur and scratched, thinking of how happy Nonno had been when he had Dominic shipped over from Italy. When his plans for “La Dolce Vita” were in full swing, before they’d had their fight, before she’d been a complete and total idiot who needed to “find herself.”

She scooped up grain and feed, poured fresh water in the trough, and fluffed his hay. Finished, she whistled for the dogs and trudged across the field, eyeing the tiny one-bedroom trailer through the eyes of the cowboy who’d been here yesterday.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Okay, it had been awhile since she’d had anything that resembled a date. In fact, let’s be honest, the ladies in her pen got more action than she did and they had to share the same guy.

That was no excuse for her obsessing about him and wondering what he’d thought of the humble place where she currently lived. Without knowing why the trailer was there, he probably thought Nonno was dirt-poor and she was “trailer trash” who’d swoon over a multimillion-dollar offer for her land.

Man, he couldn’t be further off base. He so completely didn’t know what he was dealing with. He was—

Sitting on the first step of the trailer.

Ozzie exploded in an outburst of sharp, loud, frantic barks, launching toward the stranger.

“Whoa.” Elliott didn’t even stand, reaching out a hand, which Ozzie immediately sniffed. Harriet scampered around, trying to get a piece, so he reached his other hand to her, getting a total tongue bath for his trouble.

“Hey, pooches.” He looked up and grinned, like his sneaky, unexpected arrival was completely normal and welcome. “And goatherd. Not goat
herder
.”

Nothing was normal and welcome—especially the way her knees weakened and the rest of her tensed up at the sight of him. Well, of course, she was shocked. That had to be why her body went into this state. Nothing else.

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“You’re vulnerable out here.” He tipped his cowboy hat back so she could see his eyes glint with humor and then travel up and down her body with open male appreciation. “Not really safe for a woman as beautiful as you.”

“You going to play that card now, Becker?”

He took off the hat and set it next to him on the step, but Harriet launched onto it like the brim was dusted with bacon bits. “Which card?”

“Vulnerable? Beautiful? Heroic? Who knows with you?”

With an almost imperceptible flinch, he leaned forward to give Ozzie even more love, his fingers seeming to know exactly how to calm the high-energy dog.
 

“Of course, you have your vicious guard dogs to protect you.” Ozzie was practically rolled on his back now, with Becker’s big hand tunneling the dog’s fur for a rare and prized belly rub. Ozzie was toast, his tongue already hanging out, his stub of a tail vibrating with joy. Harriet jumped off the step with the hat locked between her teeth as she trotted around the end of the trailer.
 

“You may never see that hat again,” she warned.

He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, fighting the urge to press a palm to her pounding heart, but not willing to let him know he had any effect on her at all.

“What can I say? I’m drawn to”—one more sweep with his eyes and, damn it, she felt heat rise—“this place.”

 
“I didn’t even hear you drive up.”

“My point exactly.” He finally gave up on Ozzie and leaned back on locked arms, a move that made his biceps...huge. Ozzie threw both front paws on Elliott’s lap, letting out a demanding bark for more attention. Which he got from those incredibly large and surprisingly tender hands.

Oh, Frankie, come on! They’re just hands.

“I have an offer for you,” he said, squinting up at her with an irrepressible grin.

She puffed out a breath, dropping her head back to let out a grunt of sheer exasperation. How could she make him believe she didn’t want the money?

“One week.” He stood slowly, taking a step closer. “Let me stay for one full week.”

Her eyes widened, because she certainly couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know if this is what I really want and need in my life.”

“And you want to, what, try out the farm life to see if it’s for you?”

“Exactly.” His lips curled up, revealing stunning, perfect, white teeth and a hint of dimples hidden in the whisker scruff that was probably created using a special Hollywood clipper to get that perfect two-day-old-beard look.
 

“Nothing about you is real, is it?”
 

He recoiled a little at the question. “What makes you say that?”

“You really are a fake.”

She had him; she could tell he didn’t know how to answer that.
 

“You’ll just be whoever you need to be to get a job done, am I right?”

“Um, I’m a little more complicated than that.”

She lifted her shoulders. “I think you’re simple. In every imaginable way.” She started to walk past him, but he sidestepped and blocked her.
 

“Come on, Frankie. I really want to know more about this...goat life. I’ve been reading all about goats, all night. They’re really quite a huge business and fantastic pets. I’ve been thinking about”—his gaze moved to the pen—“Ruffles. And...” He lifted his hand as if he were going to touch her, then dropped it, catching himself. “You.”

Don’t do it, hormones. Don’t listen. Don’t react. Don’t go surging into high gear.
 

“Don’t shake your head,” he said. “You know the attraction is there.”

“You’re attracted to Ruffles?”
 

He laughed. “You can’t deny it.”

No, she couldn’t. “All the more reason for you not to be here for a week.” As if she actually needed a reason. But the idea...oh, Lord. Why did the idea appeal to her? Was she
that
lonely out here?

Yes.

“I won’t bother you, Frankie, I swear.”

“Too late for that.”

“And I won’t sleep...near you.”

“Have you seen my lavish accommodations?” She gestured toward the trailer. “One bedroom and a lumpy sofa in the living room.”

Undaunted, he looked around. “I’ll sleep in the barn.”

“It’s not a...” She closed her eyes, hating the thoughts that played at the corners of her mind.
 

“You wouldn’t have to be alone when creepy lawyers and other people who want this place come circling like vultures.” His enthusiasm was infectious, she had to give him that.

And he was dead-on about the vultures. He’d surely get rid of them.

“And you wouldn’t be lonely.”

“I’m not...” She swallowed the lie. “I have plenty of company with seven goats and two dogs.”

“And a lot to do. I’d be happy to help.”

She had to laugh. “Why do I think goat’s milk soap-making is not your forte?”

“Is that what you do here?”

“This week, I will be.”

“I can help you make soap. I know a lot about soap. I use soap every day.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or beg for mercy. What had she done to deserve this?
 

“You can’t handle a farm, Becker. It takes...experience.”

“Says the woman who’s been here for eighty-one days.”

“Eighty-two, and I lived here when I was a kid.”

“You’re still not safe out here alone, and you know it.”

“Please.” She waved him off, along with the sense that he was right. “I have a .22 rifle, and I am not afraid to use it.”

He snorted. “That’ll get the evil squirrels, Annie Oakley.”

“It could stop someone.”

“Didn’t stop me.”

Damn it, he was right about that. “Well, something has to.” She managed to get by him, powering straight for the trailer door. She pulled it open, aware he’d followed.

“And you don’t even lock your door,” he chastised.
 

On the top step, she whipped around, a little taller than he was now. She used the advantage to glare down her nose. “I will from now on. Goodbye, Becker.”

Ozzie barked, loud and sharp, making his displeasure at the word
goodbye
clear.

“She doesn’t want me to leave.”

“Yes,
he
does.”

He exhaled and shook his head. “Clearly, I need lessons on farm management and...and animal husbandry.”

“Science,” she corrected. “It’s known as animal science, and I have a degree in it.”

“Which will make you an excellent teacher.”

Ozzie kicked it up to a deafening yelp, no doubt loving this idea.

“Oh!” She blew out pure exasperation, at him, at Ozzie’s relentless barking, at the situation. “Come on in,” she said, holding the door open.
 

“Nice work, partner.” He scooped up the little terrier and followed Frankie in so fast, she could feel the warmth of him at her back.
 

“It’s an invitation to come in, not sleep here.”

 
She closed her eyes and turned one way and then the other, the tiny trailer closing in. Or maybe that was him, six feet of unstoppable testosterone and determination who’d just filled it. She moved a few steps into the tiny kitchen, flipping on the faucet to quench an inexplicably dry throat.
 

“So what’s your real game, Becker?” she asked as she reached for a glass. “You think you can distract me or change my mind somehow? You make a bet with someone that you could spend a week with me and get my land?” She turned and caught him looking at the dog in his arms, wide-eyed like they shared a secret.

Like she’d just hit the nail on the proverbial head. “Did you?” she demanded.

“No.” He stroked Ozzie, shifting his attention from the dog to her. “I really am intrigued by...this. And you. And I think you shouldn’t be alone until you...you figure out what you’re going to do with this place.”

She frowned at him. “I’ve got it all figured out. And no other buyer figures into it.”

He nodded, still stroking Ozzie. She refused to look at his hands. Hands that could...oh, boy. She took a deep drink of water.

While she drank, he dipped his head closer and closer, like he was going to...put Ozzie on the floor. Her heart almost stopped. Oh, brother. He moved one inch and she’d thought he was going to kiss her.

Instead, he reached over her head for his own glass. “Why, thank you for offering, I’d love a glass of water.”

She tried to duck away to let him get it, which was damn near impossible because he was so big and filled her kitchen with all his body and...hands.
 

Enough with the hands, Frankie!

“I still don’t completely buy this you-want-to-live-on-a-farm business,” she said.

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “That’s why I’d like to try it.”

“They have dude ranches for that kind of thing.”

He filled his water glass, smiling.

“What?” she asked, seeing the smirk.

“You’re not a dude, that’s all.”

“Oh, God.” She leaned against the counter, half-laughing, half-sighing. “You really think you can flirt me out of my land? That you can woo me with cute jokes and a drop-dead smile and a sudden interest in goats?”

He turned. “Drop-dead? I like that.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He just laughed and looked down at Ozzie. “She totally likes me, don’t you think?”

The little traitor barked twice and wagged his tail.

 
“He speaks English,” she said.
 

“Obviously.” Elliott crouched down. “Talk some sense into your mom, will ya, bud?”

He barked twice again.

“What’s that mean?” Elliott asked.

“Go away.”

He laughed again, an easy, playful, masculine laugh that sounded...good. There’d been no laughing in this little trailer for three months. No flirtatious banter, no combustible chemistry, no sexy side glances, no...man. No laughter, no music, no connection, no...romance.

And yet she’d thought she was content here. Nearly content, anyway. Almost content. Wasn’t she?
 

He put the glass to his lips, giving her only his profile. He drained the whole glass, his Adam’s apple bobbling, like he’d walked miles through the desert. Well, he had trudged up here from far enough away that she’d never heard the car.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Good God, the man was a specimen and a half of perfection. And protection. A thick bicep with the shadow of a vein running through, strong forearms dusted with dark hair. Then she was back to his hand, curled around the glass, all tanned, long, powerful.