The Cowgirl's CEO. Pamela Britton

it’s a good thing I don’t have to listen to you.”

      He pulled out a chair, too, and took a seat. “Why are you fighting this?”

      “Fighting what?”

      “This,” he said, leaning toward her.

      Her gray eyes widened.

      She thought he was about to kiss her. He could tell by the way she drew back, her chest expanding, and then didn’t move as she waited…

      But he wasn’t going to kiss her. He had no intention of ever crossing the line with her. He grabbed the salad bowl.

      “My desire to feed you,” he said, keeping his expression carefully blank, because he couldn’t deny they were obviously attracted to each other.

      “I don’t mind you feeding me,” she said after expelling a breath. “I mean…” She ran a hand through her hair. “All right, maybe I do.”

      “You need to take better care of yourself, slow down a little,” he said, trying to steer the conversation to neutral ground. His heart pounded in an odd way. “I don’t want a comatose spokesperson.”

      “I can’t slow down. This is how I make my living.”