Lonesome Ryder. Carol Finch

forbidden her from looking around the place, she mused. Of course, that was because he wanted her out from underfoot occasionally.

      When she reentered the living room, she noticed Wade had set aside the empty tray and was looking hopelessly lost. She imagined an active man like Wade was having trouble with his sedentary existence. Laura wheeled toward her bedroom to gather a few books that she’d brought with her.

      “Here, these will occupy your time.” She handed him two suspense thrillers for his reading pleasure.

      Wade stared at the books then glanced up at her. “I’m too old for book reports, professor,” he said flippantly.

      “Would you prefer something else to read?”

      “Yeah, Playboy. They’re in my bottom dresser drawer.”

      If he was trying to aggravate her, she’d prove that it was a waste of his time. “Sure thing. Coming right up.”

      He frowned, apparently disappointed that she hadn’t objected. Laura swallowed a smug grin and strode down the hall. She’d never actually had her hands on the men’s magazine before so she thumbed through it on her way back to the living room. She couldn’t help but wonder if the busty and bare bunnies were the types Wade preferred when he was in the mood for female companionship.

      “Find something interesting in there, Seymour?” he asked when he caught her staring at the centerfold.

      “No, Playgirl is more my style,” she insisted saucily. “I plan to pin up a few beefcake posters in my bedroom, as soon as I have time. You don’t mind, do you?”

      “Fine by me. Then maybe you won’t be barging into my room to sneak peeks at me,” he razzed her.

      Her mouth dropped open. “That was not what I was doing last night!” she objected, affronted.

      “Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and grinned wickedly. “I may be crippled up, but I’m not blind. You looked your fill.”

      Her face flooded with color because he was right and they both knew it. She’d definitely looked him over when she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed—arms, legs and chest bare. Having lived with four brothers, she’d seen men in various states of undress. But Wade’s power-packed, muscled body had had more of an arousing effect than she wanted to admit.

      “Well?”

      She jerked her gaze to his face when she realized she was staring at him, remembering how he looked without his shirt and jeans. “Well, what?”

      “Are you going to deny it, Seymour?” he challenged.

      Laura knew he was trying to get her goat again, but she refused to let him. “No, I’m not,” she replied. “You’re a stud muffin, Ryder, and I suspect you know it. If I had your picture I’d pin it on the wall beside the other beefcakes.”

      When his mouth dropped open and he was left speechless, Laura smiled in triumph and went back to dusting the furniture. She wasn’t sure but she thought she might’ve won that round. Wade didn’t make another peep for an hour.

      Although she knew Wade was trying hard to make himself difficult to live with she suspected that he wasn’t normally a grouch. He was being deliberately cantankerous for her benefit. She’d have to remember that the next time he tried to annoy her in his ongoing attempt to make her quit her job.

      WADE WAS GREATLY RELIEVED when his cousins showed up at the end of the week. Leaning heavily on a single crutch, Wade slowly progressed down the hill to reach the barn where Quint and Vance were unloading their saddled horses from the stock trailer. He battled the feeling of uselessness as he watched his cousins tighten cinches and bridle their cow ponies.

      “So, how goes it with the housekeeper, cuz?” Quint asked, tossing Wade a smile.

      Although it was going better than he preferred, because Laura had been amazingly efficient the past few days, Wade said, “I don’t know how much you’re paying Seymour, but it’s too damn much for what little she does.”

      Vance’s dark brows jackknifed. “You don’t say.”

      “I do say.”

      “What’s wrong exactly?” Quint asked.

      “Where do I start? The woman tried to burn off my tongue with her thirty-weight-motor-oil coffee that’s as hot as molten lava, and her cooking skills are barely existent.” Wade made a face and cringed—although the truth was that her coffee was just the way he liked it, and she was such an excellent cook that he gobbled every bite of her meals.

      Quint and Vance exchanged glances then stared toward the graveled driveway, noting that Laura’s low-slung sports car was gone. Wade used it as another strike against her.

      “I haven’t gotten a full day’s work out of her yet,” he went on. “This afternoon she took off to visit her friend.”

      “Well, I’m sure that once she gets settled into a routine things will run smoothly,” Quint defended her.

      “Yeah well, it’s your money,” Wade said with a lack-adaisical shrug. “But I’m tellin’ ya, she’s as useless as a headache. I have to wake her up every morning by nine to fix my breakfast. She barely has time to prepare lunch while she’s watching all those soap operas.”

      Wade was laying it on thick and his conscience was snarling at him for voicing lies, in hopes of convincing Quint and Vance to can her. Truth was, the woman was so energetic and efficient that it wore him out watching her buzz merrily from one chore to the next.

      Like a whirling dervish, she’d attacked the mountain of laundry that had piled up before Wade was injured, as well as the mound that had built up after he’d come home in a cast and sling. The kitchen and bathrooms were spotless, and the house had been vacuumed and dusted within an inch of its life. Laura had also booted up his computer to look at his ranching programs. Like a physician conducting an examination, she’d decided what sort of updates he needed then called in her order. And presto, the software arrived by overnight express. Wade had seen her in his office loading the new software and transferring information like the pro she was.

      However, if he gave her a ringing endorsement he’d never get Seymour out of his hair—and off his mind.

      Sure ’nuff, having her underfoot 24/7 was driving him up the wall. He was starting to like her. When he deliberately provoked and tormented her, in hopes of driving her away, she sassed him playfully. When he tried to communicate through insults—to annoy her—she responded by insisting that he was suffering from a persecution complex brought on by the hang-ups left in the wake of his ex-wife’s betrayal and that he needed to get over himself. And worse, Wade was actually enjoying their conversations, their verbal sparring and her saucy sense of humor. That was not good.

      It had been a long time since he’d experienced such an intense and profound physical attraction to a woman. He wanted her—of course, that went without saying, because she was extremely desirable and tempting. But what scared the bejeezus out of him was that he liked being with her, liked sharing his long hours of his inactivity. That was very bad!

      Wade was getting so desperate that he was stooping to concocting outrageous fibs. He was tattling to his cousins, trying to convince them to dismiss Laura. He wasn’t very proud of himself, but this was about self-preservation!

      Vance appraised Wade’s freshly laundered, wrinkle-free chambray shirt and jeans then smiled wryly. “You don’t look the worse for wear,” he observed.

      “That’s because I hand wash my own clothes,” Wade said.

      “Uh-huh, sure you do.” Quint smirked. “I hope you realize we aren’t buying this crock of malarkey you’re shoveling out.”

      Damn, he was afraid of that. “Fine, turn a blind eye while she blows off her duties,” Wade muttered. “Throw your money down the toilet. What do I care?”

      Quint chuckled as he effortlessly mounted