And Lori had never been able to back down from a challenge.

“So,” she said, “what’s first on your list?”

Just as she asked the question, a chicken decided to peck at one of the sparkles on her shoes. She tried to step out of the way, but it just followed her and pecked harder at her foot.

“Pick up the hen and put her in the coop.”

She knew the joke was supposed to be on her, that he thought she was going to screw this up, but how hard could it be to pick up a chicken?

“Sure, no problem.”

As Lori squatted and reached for the small body, the chicken was so focused on trying to eat her shoe-sparkle that she didn’t have any trouble getting her hands around its middle. Only, just as she was about to actually lift the bird off the ground, it looked up at her with alarm, squawked its displeasure, then wriggled out of her hands and started running in the opposite direction.

She didn’t think before muttering a curse word as she stood up to go after the hen. “Come here, you,” she said in what was supposed to be a soothing voice, but was tinged with more than a little frustration. “Time to go back into your coop.”

When she was only a couple of feet from the bird, she made herself wait until it focused on something crawling on the drive before reaching for it again. But it was smarter about her intention this time and before she could even get a hand on its feathers, it let out another loud cry, then half-flew, half-ran away from her.

Lori brushed her hair out of her eyes. She was sweating now and had dirt smudged across the front of her top and along her tights. But she wasn’t even close to giving up. No sir. If Grayson thought this was enough to send her packing, he was sorely mistaken.

She was already heading after the chicken again when Grayson cut her off at the pass. “I can’t let you upset her any more than you already have. It’ll throw off her laying cycle.”

“I didn’t mean to upset her,” Lori protested, immediately feeling guilty about having done irreparable damage to the chicken’s egg production.

He reached down to pick up the hen, and rather than reach for its tail or wings, he cupped his hands in a gentle V on either side of its body and lifted it. With one hand firmly under the chicken, he used the other to hold it close to his body as he carried it into the coop.

Well, she thought with more than a little irritation, he could have told her how to do that before she screwed up the hen’s life. While his back was turned, she bent down and reached for another chicken. This time around, it was a different—and much happier—story as she scooped up the hen and carried it over to the coop.

Grayson turned around just as she was about to put the chicken inside. “What the hell are you doing?”

She stopped right where she was and gathered the bird a little closer to her chest. The warmth of the plump body against her helped soften the sting of Grayson’s fierce glare.

“I figured you wanted all the chickens inside,” she said in a voice pitched low so that she wouldn’t spook her new feathered friend. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he bit out, but his frown deepened rather than clearing. “How’d you pick her up?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “I watched what you did.”

He moved his glare from her to the chicken and she felt a little sorry for bringing the bird into this.

“Fine. Put her in the coop and then collect the rest. I’ve got to see how badly your car damaged my fence.”

This time, Lori was the one scowling at Grayson’s too-broad, far-too-muscular back. So much for getting a thank you or maybe even a little bit of praise for how easily she’d managed to rectify things with the chickens. It was, she thought, a very good reminder that it was never a good idea to do something to try to please a man.

Still, she didn’t let her frustration with him impact her gentle handling of the chicken. Or the next dozen of them. Unfortunately, even though she knew what she was doing now, it didn’t mean the chickens necessarily felt like cooperating. And she had to admit her heels weren’t exactly the best footwear for a muddy, gravelly, grassy farm, as the spikes kept getting stuck in the sod. Fortunately, she spotted a plastic dish with what looked like dried corn in it that the chickens seemed to have an inordinate interest in. Picking up the dish, she shook the “treats” and was thrilled when the rest of the chickens came running in at top speed toward the coop. Moments later she had them all safely inside.

All but one, darn it. She responded neither to the treats nor the actions of the rest of her chicken friends.

After the hen dodged her one too many times, Lori kicked off her shoes and, with renewed determination, used her years of quietly gliding across a stage to stalk the chicken.

“Aha! Gotcha!” she exclaimed when she finally had it safe and sound in her arms. The chicken let out a matching sound that had her laughing out loud. “Had a good time messing with me, did you?”

She was almost at the coop when she looked up and saw Grayson staring at her with such an expression of shock that she almost stumbled with the chicken in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her feet. “Is there a snake in the grass?” She couldn’t keep the horror from her voice as she went completely still.

“No,” he said quickly, “there isn’t a snake.”

“Thank God.” She let out a harsh breath, utterly exhausted from the past twenty minutes of chasing chickens on top of her red-eye flight and sleepless night. Heading again for the coop, she took every barefoot step only after careful consideration of the ground in front of her. “I’ll just go put her in the coop and then you can tell me what you want me to do next.”

Chapter Three

Next? She wanted him to tell her what to do next?

Get the hell off his property—and out of his life, taking her laughter with her—that’s what he wanted her to do next. At least, it was what he should have wanted.

But, for some strange reason he couldn’t understand, Grayson couldn’t bring himself to put her back in her car and order her to leave. Plus, after her rough start, she’d actually done a good job with the chickens and he couldn’t justify penalizing her for that.

She shut the coop door for the last time, then walked straight over to the hose and washed off her hands before wiping her hands off on her hips and turning back to him. Unfortunately, that drew his attention back to her spectacular figure. Not, of course, that his attention had ever wavered from it. His heart would have to stop before he could ignore the fact that he had a live, in the flesh, pin-up girl on his farm.

One who wanted to be his new farmhand.

Damn it, he needed to figure out a way to get her to leave before she could get under his skin any more than she already had. Because even in her ridiculous outfit, streaked now with dirt, she was still heartbreakingly beautiful. And, given what he knew of women, seemed to be shockingly low maintenance when it came to dirt and animals. Why wasn’t she losing it over the state of her clothes, her torn stockings, or the fact that her heels were now covered with wet dirt and grass stains? Clearly, something must have gone really wrong in her life for her to think this was a step up.

Unfortunately, it also wasn’t difficult to recognize in her an urge to leave her old life behind and start over someplace where no one would ever think to look for her.

Because that was just what he’d done himself after his wife died three years ago. And for the past thirty-six months, his farm in Pescadero had been his refuge from the past, from ever having to think about what had happened to his wife...or his role in it.

Damn it, he didn’t want this woman to think he cared, but he needed to know. “Are you in any danger?”

“Danger?” She looked at him as though it was the strangest question in the world.

“Are you hiding from someone who’s trying to hurt you? Is that why you’re here?”

A flash of emotion crossed her face before she masked it with a smile that he didn’t buy for a second. “No, of course not.”

She moved like a prima ballerina even while chasing chickens, but obviously wasn’t an actress because she couldn’t lie worth a damn.

“Then should I be expecting an angry husband or boyfriend to show up with his shotgun loaded, demanding to know what I’m doing with his woman?”

“No.” She all but yelled the word at him before taking a deep breath—one that made it hard for him to keep his gaze from dropping to her chest. “I’m not in trouble. No one is after me. I just want a job working on your farm.”

“Why?”

This time she didn’t so much as hesitate before saying, “Because it looks like fun.”

Okay, so she clearly wasn’t going to tell him the truth. But while he didn’t believe for a minute that working on a farm had been her lifelong dream, at least he felt fairly confident that she didn’t have an angry guy on her tail.

Still, she had to go. And he had just the plan to make it happen.

“I need to see how you do with some basic farmhouse chores.”

He had to give her credit; even though she had to know exactly the kind of chores he was talking about—ones that included toilet brushes and floor mops—she didn’t let her smile waver.

“That sounds great,” she said, though it was clearly anything but great, but instead of following him into the house, she added, “And if I do a good job with those chores, you’ll give me the job?”

Stubborn didn’t even begin to describe this girl. Working not to feel too much respect for her determination, he studied her carefully for a few moments. Her nails were long, and while there was dirt under then now, they were well manicured, and her hands were soft and smooth. He’d bet all one thousand of his acres that she hadn’t done a lick of cleaning in her entire life. With those legs, and that body, she’d probably spent it as some rich man’s pampered mistress.

“If you make it all the way through the list of farmhouse chores,” he said as easily as he could around the twisting in his gut at the thought of Lori in another man’s bed, naked and breathless as she came for him, “you can have the job on probation.” He turned away before she could see the reaction he was having to her.

“Probation?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “One hour at a time, Lori. That’s how we’ll take it before I know whether or not I can count on you.”

“You can count on me,” she said in a firm voice as she suddenly blew past him and into his living room. And then, suddenly, she was making a happy little surprised sound.

“Oh, look at her.” Lori rushed over to his mangy, ratty old former barn cat who was nearly done with her ninth life. “She’s beautiful!”

“Are you sure we’re looking at the same cat?” Frankly, he was amazed Lori had even been able to tell the thing was female.

“She can hear you, you know,” she said in a chiding tone, and then, “What’s her name?”

He wanted to remind Lori that she was gunning for the role of farmhand, not new best friend who would chat with him all day long. He liked his solitude, damn it. Still, he’d already figured out that not answering one of her pointless questions wouldn’t make her stop asking them.

“Mo.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your cat’s name is Mo?”

“That’s right.”

She turned back to the cat and cooed as she stroked it. “How could anyone call such a pretty little girl such an ugly boy’s name.” She scowled up at him. “One of the Three Stooges, no less!” Again, she focused on the cat. “You were waiting for me to come here, weren’t you, so that I could give you love...and a good name.”

Love. The word hit him hard right in the center of his solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs. He thought he’d known about love once upon a time, but he hadn’t known a damn thing about what love really was. The only thing he knew for sure now was that his life was better off without it.