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she still cared about the people there.
    “Well, I’m not letting the company ruin my land. I’ll put up razor wire and go all Ruby Ridge if I have to, but I think there’s probably an easier way.” He opened the door and tipped his hat in a snide mockery of cowboy etiquette. “See you on the nightly news.”
    She took a step toward him, then realized how close he was and stepped back. Unfortunately, she backed right into the door and slammed it shut. Next thing she knew, she was plastered against it like the heroine in a melodrama vying to keep her hero at home. He was standing so close she caught the clean laundry scent of his shirt and something else, something masculine—pine, wood smoke, leather. Maybe horses. Wind. She could feel him—not just physically, but deep down inside, the way you felt danger or heartache.
    “I’m not here to play games,” he said.
    “Me neither.” She grabbed the doorknob to steady herself. This was no time to go all girlie.
    “So you weren’t keeping score?”
    How did he know about that? Her body language must have given her away somehow. What had she been doing—counting on her fingers?
    He seemed to enjoy watching her flinch as he gently pried her hand from the doorknob and held it in his.
    “I’ve got better games to play.” His voice rumbled so deep in his chest she could feel it in her own.
    “On the nightly news?” She slipped her hand out of his grip and wiped first her palm, then the back of her hand on her skirt with elaborate care, as if she’d accidentally touched something slimy. “I’m sure your brother would appreciate it if you kept your family business to yourself.”
    “Okay. Good advice. I’ll start right now.” His eyes met hers. “Stay out of my family business.”
    “Sorry.” She snatched at the last shred of her self-control, but he’d gotten her riled up and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from fighting back. “I’m paid to be in your family business. If you got along better with your brother, maybe you could talk him into firing people that annoy you. As it stands, you’re going to have to deal with me.”
    “Okay.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and relaxed his stance. “Good.”
    “Good?” She felt as if the plush carpet was suddenly moving under her feet like a grocery store conveyor belt. Surely he hadn’t felt the same instant attraction that had struck her the moment he’d walked into the room.
    Had he?
    The answer came a little too quickly and shattered that notion like a bullet hitting a beer bottle.
    “Yeah, good.” His brows lowered and he looked like one of the bulls he rode, glowering at the world through the rails of the chute gate, ready to bust loose and raise hell with anyone who crossed him. “I like to know who my enemies are.”

Chapter 4
    Lane looked down at the woman barring the door and struggled to keep his composure. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he let loose. Maybe he’d shove her aside and walk away, maybe he’d laugh, or maybe, just maybe, he’d push her up against the door frame and work his way past all that uptight professionalism to the real woman underneath. He’d work his way past that stick-in-the-mud suit, too.
    She wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Eric’s previous public affairs manager had been a bitchy blonde who was all bones and teeth and blind ambition. This one was a very intriguing redhead, and there was nothing brittle about her. In fact, there was something almost admirable in the way she fought for the company. She seemed to honestly believe the project would be good for Two Shot, too. Her passion might be misguided, but it was sincere.
    He stepped back from the door. How could he get to her? He didn’t want to win the argument so much as he wanted to knock away that stiffly held shield of self-control. Or maybe kiss her.
    Yeah, he wanted to kiss her.
    He assessed her like a horse or a bull, trying to see past the hard shine in her eyes to find a