He could talk to the cowboys on his staff, explain the lineage of any of his prize bulls to a potential buyer and go toe-to-toe with the toughest, orneriest negotiator this side of the Mississippi, but with women...especially women like Phoebe...he clammed up tighter than a virgin in church.

The sound of footsteps distracted him. He turned his attention back to the map in front of him as Frank entered the room.

“Sent Chase into town for supplies,” the older man said. “I got bad news.”

Zane braced himself.

“We needed a couple more tents, and we’re a saddle short.”

Zane winced. A tent wouldn’t be expensive, but a good saddle was. “See if maybe Clay Stryker has one we can borrow. If not, keep track of how much we put out for this. I’ll take it out of Chase’s summer earnings.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Zane moved closer to the map. “We can’t take them on a real cattle drive. We’ll follow the river toward the edge of our property that borders the Strykers’, then turn west here.” He indicated the spot on the map.

Frank slid off his hat and rubbed the top of his head with his free hand. “You’re going in a circle?”

“A big one. We’ll never be more than four hours’ ride from either here, the Strykers’, or Reilly Konopka’s place.”

Frank’s expression tightened with surprise. “I didn’t know you’d started talkin’ to him.”

“I haven’t.” If he had his way, he never would. “We have to stay sharp. If there’s an emergency, I can’t risk us being too far from help.”

He knew he could count on the Stryker men, and while Reilly Konopka might be a crusty old pissant of a man who would happily leave Zane out in the cold to freeze to death, he wouldn’t turn away a stranger in need.

“Arrange for supplies to be delivered every day. You’ll have to write up a schedule for the men. Have Cookie plan a menu this afternoon.”

Frank’s eyes widened. He looked as if someone had just run over his favorite dog. “Boss, you’re not taking Cookie with you.”

It was more of a plea than a question. “No one else can cook for shit. What am I supposed to feed them?”

“But without Cookie, one of the boys will have to cook for those of us left behind.”

“There’s enough stuff frozen to get everyone through a week.”

“Ah, jeez.” Frank’s shoulders slumped. “Why’d you have to take Cookie with you?”

Zane ignored the question. Frank knew he was stuck on the ranch. With Zane gone, Frank would be in charge.

“I’ll have the two-way radios with me. With the new tower in place, you’ll be able to reach me any time.”

Frank was still grumbling about losing the ranch cook for a week.

“Want to trade?” Zane asked flatly.

His foreman pressed his lips together. They both knew taking ten novice riders out on a fake cattle drive through wilderness was nothing short of five kinds of hell. June weather was usually good, but there was always the possibility of a freak snowstorm, a sizable flash flood, spooked cattle, bears, runaway horses, snakebite and saddle sores.

Frank slapped him on the back. “You have a fine time out there, boss. The boys and I will keep things running back here.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”

CHAPTER SIX

PHOEBE STRETCHED OUT on her bed, aimlessly flipping channels on the television. Despite the fact there was a sci-fi marathon on one channel, Sleepless in Seattle on another and some really great fake diamond earrings on QVC, nothing held her interest. She told herself it was because she was in unfamiliar surroundings. Or maybe it was the fact that except for the cowboy who had delivered her dinner on a tray at six-thirty, she hadn’t seen another living being. Well, not a biped. From her window she could see countless cattle, a few horses and even a couple of dogs.

But she knew none of that really mattered. The reason she was restless, edgy and more than a little unsettled had nothing to do with her lack of company and everything to do with a soul-stirring kiss she’d experienced that morning. Strange men were not supposed to be able to elicit that kind of a response from her. She’d always been a kiss on the second date, sex in the third or fourth month kind of gal. More than one potential boyfriend had become frustrated and ended things because she wasn’t ready to bare all by week four.

The first time it had happened, she’d been heartbroken. The second time, she’d been resigned. In her world, making love needed to be a significant event. She was interested in emotional connection, not volume. Which put her out of step with a lot of guys she met in LA, but that was okay. She wasn’t going to find the sense of belonging she desperately wanted by jumping into bed every fifteen minutes. Which was all really interesting, but not the least bit helpful in explaining her reaction to Zane.

If he’d tossed her to the ground and started ripping off her clothes, instead of being outraged, she would have helped. She would have done it right there, in front of God and the goats. The big question was why?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She flipped off the TV, then sat up. She’d returned her dinner tray to the kitchen, so it was unlikely anyone was here to bus her dishes. Which left one of two possibilities for her visitor. Chase or Zane.

In her mind, it wasn’t even a close vote. She crossed her fingers and walked to the door. When she pulled it open, she fully expected to see Chase standing in the hallway, because that was how her luck was running these days. Yet the man in front of her was tall, good-looking and had a mouth, she knew from personal experience, that could reduce grown women who should know better to puddles of liquid desire.