Wyoming Strong. Diana Palmer

so much as the company in it that was irritating Sara Brandon. Not only the company, but the way she was being watched, too.

      He was lounging back against the nearby counter at the Jacobsville pharmacy, arrogant and amused, watching her with those icy Arctic-blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. As if he knew exactly what was under her clothing. As if he could see her creamy skin. As if...

      She cleared her throat and glared at him.

      That amused him even more. “Am I disturbing you, Ms. Brandon?” he drawled.

      He was elegant. Devastating, physically. Lean-hipped, tanned, broad-shouldered, with big, beautiful hands and big feet. His Stetson was pulled low over his eyes, so that only their pale glitter was visible under the brim. His long, powerful legs in designer jeans were crossed, just the feet of his expensive tan boots peering out from under the denim. His chambray shirt was open at the throat. Thick, black, curling hair was exposed in the narrow vee.

      The beast knew he was...stimulating. That’s why he did that, why he left those top buttons unbuttoned, she just knew it. She couldn’t completely hide her reaction to him, and he knew that, too. It drove her mad.

      “You don’t disturb me, Mr. Patterson,” she said, her voice sounding a little choked as she tried to keep it steady.

      Those eyes slid down her slender, elegant body in narrow black slacks topped by a black turtleneck sweater. His smile widened as she pulled her black leather coat closer and buttoned it, so that her sweater didn’t show. Her long, thick black hair dropped to her waist in back, waving around her exquisite face. Perfect, pouting lips led up to a straight nose and wide-spaced black eyes. She was a beauty. She wasn’t conceited about it. She hated her looks. She hated the attention she drew.

      She crossed her arms against her breasts over the coat and averted her eyes.

      “Oh, I wonder about that,” he drawled in his deep, slow voice. “You don’t look at all calm to me.”

      “Do tell me what I do look like, then.”

      He shouldered away from the counter and joined her. He was tall. He moved a little closer, as if to force her to look up and see how much he towered over her. She retreated a step, nervously.

      “You look like a young filly, just taking her first steps out into the pasture,” he said quietly.

      “I’ve been out in the pasture for a long time, Mr. Patterson, and I’m not nervous.”

      He just cocked an eyebrow. He pursed his sensuous lips. “Well, you look nervous to me. Left the flying monkeys at home, did we?”

      Her mouth flew open. “You listen here...!” She winced at the sudden turning of heads and quickly lowered her voice. “I do not keep...flying monkeys at my house!”

      “Oh, I know that. You probably have them hidden out in the woods. Along with the broom.”

      She ground her teeth together.

      “Miss Brandon?” Bonnie called from the cash register. “I have your refill.”

      “Thanks,” Sara said, and quickly moved away from the tall threat of Wofford Patterson’s body. They called him Wolf as a nickname. She could see why. He was really predatory. And it was something of a bit of luck that he didn’t like her.

      She paid for her acid reflux medicine, smiled at Bonnie, glared at Wofford Patterson and started for the front door.

      “Fly at a safe speed now,” he cautioned in a good-natured tone.

      She whirled, her long black hair whipping. “If I really had flying monkeys, I’d have them drop you in the biggest manure lagoon in the whole state of Texas, and then I’d throw a match in it!” she flashed at him.

      Everybody started laughing, especially Wofford Patterson. Red-faced, Sara almost ran out of the building.

      * * *

      “I WILL HAVE him shot,” she muttered to herself as she stalked to her white Jaguar. “I will have him shot, and then I’ll have them dismember him, and then...”

      “Talking to yourself. Tsk, tsk,” she heard behind her. He was following her.

      She turned around. “You are the most obnoxious, unbearable, tedious, irritating, vicious man I have ever known in my life!” she raged at him.

      He shrugged. “I doubt that. You do inspire people to dislike you.”

      Her small fists were clenched at her sides, the paper pharmacy bag gripped in one of them. She was almost on fire with anger.

      She glanced beside her and saw Cash Grier, the Jacobsville, Texas, police chief, just coming up on the sidewalk. “I want him arrested!” she yelled, pointing at Wofford.

      “Now, what did I do?” Wofford asked with a straight face. “I was only asking you to drive safely, because I worry about your health.” He gave her an angelic smile.

      She was nearly shaking with anger.

      Cash tried to hide a grin. “Now, Ms. Brandon,” he began gently.

      “What exactly is a Miz?” Wolf wondered aloud. “Is it like a Mr. Woman sort of thing?”

      She threw the bag of pills at him.

      “She assaulted me!” Wolf exclaimed. “Assault is a felony, right?”

      “Oh, I’d love to assault you,” she muttered under her breath.

      “You really would, honey,” he drawled as he watched her come back up with the sack of pills. “I am a legend in my own time.” He even smiled.

      She drew back a little foot in a pretty shoe.

      “If you kick him, I really will have to enforce the law, Sara,” Cash reminded her.

      She looked as exasperated as she felt. “Couldn’t you just...well, wound him?” she asked plaintively. “A little?”

      Cash tried not to laugh and failed. “If I shoot him, I’ll have to arrest myself. Think how that would look.”

      “You should go home,” Wolf told her with mock concern. “I’ll bet you haven’t fed the flying monkeys all day.”

      She stamped her foot. “You pig!”

      “Last week I was a snake. Is this a promotion?” he wondered aloud.

      She took a step toward him. Cash got in between them. “Sara, go home. Right now. Please?” he added.

      She blew a tendril of hair out of her face and turned back to the Jaguar. “I should have moved to hell. It would have been more peaceful.”

      “The flying monkeys would have felt at home, too,” Wolf mused.

      “One day,” she said, raising a fist.

      “I am always at home,” he pointed out with a grin. “Come on over. I’ll find some boxing gloves.”

      “Will they stop a bullet?” she asked hotly. She added a few choice words in Farsi. In fact, she added a lot of them, in a high, provoked, angry tone. She stamped her foot to emphasize that she meant them.

      “Your brother would be shocked, shocked I tell you, to hear such language coming out of his baby sister’s mouth,” Wolf said haughtily. He glanced at Cash. “You speak Farsi. Can’t you arrest her for calling people in my family names like that?”

      Cash was looking hunted.

      “I’m going home,” Sara said furiously.

      “I noticed,” Wolf replied lazily.

      She told him what he could do in Farsi.

      “Oh, it takes two for that,” he replied in the same tongue, and his pale eyes absolutely howled.

      She got into the car, revved it up and roared off down the street.

      “One