He didn’t like thinking of her with McGuire. It made him irritable that he was vulnerable. He’d had so many women. He couldn’t understand why he felt differently about her.

“I see,” he said after a minute.

She started to explain why it was a business trip. He didn’t know about her career. Perhaps it was time that he did.

“About New York,” she began.

He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Bart’s meeting with some advertising person about your production sale,” he said abruptly. “He wants me to help come up with some ideas.”

“Why you?” she asked, surprised.

Because he owned the biggest ranch in West Texas and had production sales of his own each year. He was experienced in advertising for them. In fact, the production sale at Latigo was why he couldn’t stay more than another few weeks. Odd, how uncomfortable it made him feel to think about leaving. She was getting under his skin. He didn’t like being vulnerable. He never had been before. Not with a woman.

It took him a minute to realize that he hadn’t answered her. He shrugged. “Back home, boss always asked for my input on ads. I dated an executive from an ad agency for a few months,” he added involuntarily.

She frowned.

He could have chewed his tongue through at that slip. How would a plain cowboy, which she thought he was, have anything to do with an executive of any sort? It was hardly a common match.

“She came to the ranch about a production sale. We started talking and found a lot in common,” he improvised. Actually, he’d met her in Manhattan, on a business trip, and they’d been an item for two or three months, until the passion wore out. Passion always wore out, he’d found. Women in his life lacked staying power. They came and went. Mostly they went.

“Oh,” she said, having lacked any sort of sensible reply. She didn’t like the jealous feelings he engendered in her. He went around with Ida, which wounded her, and now he was talking about yet another woman. Well, he was experienced, and it showed. Probably there had been a lot of women. She felt inadequate.

“Not to worry,” he said softly. “I’m not in the market for a woman who reads romance novels.”

Her eyebrows arched. She wouldn’t ask, she wouldn’t ask…!

“You have a rose-colored view of life, honey,” he said gently, and made the endearment feel like a verbal caress. “Mine is raw and blunt. They won’t mix.”

She sighed. She nodded. “Like oil and water.”

“Pretty much.” He moved closer, bent and brushed his mouth softly against hers. “I’ll see you around.”

He left before she could recover from the endearment, the kiss and the insinuation that he wasn’t coming here alone again. It should have made her happy. Instead, it was actually painful. He didn’t want to get mixed up with an innocent. Jake did. Poor Jake, for whom she had no feelings. Jake, who wanted so desperately for her to love him.