Slow Hand by Victoria Vane

present to herself. She pulled on a denim jacket and a pair of well-worn Justin Ropers, remnants from her old honky-tonkin’, boot-stompin’ days.
    She went light on the makeup and pulled her wavy brown hair into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder. It was a casual, girl-next-door look that she carried off well. It was also one that men liked—at least men like Wade.
    She made up the bed, grabbed her bag, and opened the door to find him leaning on the jamb. The effect, the sheer and virile maleness of him, nearly bowled her over.
    â€œFeel better?” he asked.
    â€œYes. I do. Thanks.”
    â€œYou look much improved.”
    His eyes drifted over her, his sexy mouth quirking at one corner. She was fascinated by that mouth. His kisses had turned her inside out. She remembered that too.
    She gave a dry laugh. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”
    â€œBelieve me, it is. C’mon. Breakfast is waiting.”
    She clutched her protesting stomach. “Maybe just coffee for me.”
    She followed him to the staircase leading to a huge vaulted living room. The floor to ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking vista of countless mountains etched in shades of blue and gray, capped by crowns of pristine white. She paused on the landing to take in the view.
    â€œI can’t believe all that sits right outside your door!”
    â€œThe ranch is in the heart of the Ruby Valley,” Wade said. “We’re surrounded by seven mountain ranges and have some of the best grazing lands around. I guess I’ve come to take the landscape for granted.”
    â€œI can’t believe you want to sell,” she remarked incredulously.
    â€œStupid as hell, isn’t he?” replied a gravelly baritone from below.
    The body attached to the voice came into view as soon as they descended the stairs. He wasn’t as tall as Wade, but bigger, more weather-beaten, and doubly imposing. Maybe that last part was due to his expression—as hard and rugged as the mountains in the backdrop.
    Wade’s head jerked in his direction. “Mornin’, Dirk.”
    She noted that neither of them smiled, but she’d been forewarned about their mutual hostility.
    â€œMornin’? Hell, it’s closer to noon. Some of us actually work around here. The ol’ man and I have been moving cattle for the past five hours while you’ve been lazing in bed.” He raked over Nikki with a disapproving stare.
    â€œHold it right there,” she blurted. “I’m not his girlfriend if that’s what you think. I’m a client.” She looked to Wade, “Or will be as soon as I get a few things straightened out.”
    â€œ A client? ” Dirk’s mouth twisted on the word. “Since when did my little brother start bringing clients out to the ranch?”
    â€œSince they needed a place to stay,” Wade replied. “Miz Powell’s here because her father recently passed away and she lost her wallet on the trip up here. Nikki, this rude asshole is my brother, Dirk.”
    Dirk’s expression softened at Wade’s explanation. He tipped his hat with a look of chagrin.
    She stepped forward and extended her hand. His gaze met hers. It was then that Nikki noticed he and Wade had the same beautiful eyes. She also noticed the ugly burns on the right side of Dirk’s face. It took an effort not to stare.
    He accepted her hand with a brief squeeze of his own. “Sorry for your loss, Miz Powell. Welcome to the Flying K.”
    â€œPlease, just call me Nikki.”
    Dirk grunted something unintelligible before turning back to Wade. He’d resumed the look of a pit bull preparing for a fight. “The only asshole is the one who would give away the family farm.”
    â€œSeven point eight mil’ is hardly a giveaway.”
    â€œYou can’t put a price on four generations of blood, sweat, and tears. You’ve got no