Fool's Gold Collection Volume 3: Almost Summer / Summer Days / Summer Nights / All Summer Long

“You’re being logical. I just want to have my goats and not deal with other animals. At least not the kind you eat.”

“People eat goats.”

“Not mine.”

“Your goats do have a good life here.”

Heidi told herself that her awareness of the evening came from the natural beauty of the surroundings and the quiet of the night. The goats had already settled down, the birds had nested and the crickets were out. She was one with nature. She was calm.

Then Rafe shifted on the step and she jumped. Her heart thudded so loudly, she was surprised the crickets didn’t all scream in terror, assuming crickets made any sound other than the chirpy one.

So much for being calm.

It wasn’t her fault, she told herself. It was what she’d said before. About not sleeping with him. Now he knew she’d been thinking about it. The man had an ego the size of the Grand Canyon. He probably thought she was desperate to have him in her bed, when the truth was she’d only been thinking about sex as a way to convince him to not take her ranch. A really dumb idea, especially considering she was reasonably sure she wasn’t good enough—bed-wise—to convince him of anything.

“Heidi?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay? You look like maybe you’re in pain.”

“I’m fine.” Or she would be. Eventually. “Dinner was great.”

“That’s what you were thinking about?”

“No, but that’s the conversational gambit I’m putting forth.”

He angled toward her, his leg now millimeters from her thigh. “You can do better than talking about my mom’s lasagna.”

“Fine. Do you miss San Francisco?”

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re in my hometown. You could at least pretend to have to think about your answer.”

“Why? I like living in the city.”

“The shopping and access to the ballet?”

One corner of his sexy, well-shaped, come-kiss-me mouth turned up. She found her attention very much settled on his mouth, and wondered what it would feel like against her own. If he, you know, wanted to—

She mentally slammed the door on those thoughts and stared out at the barn. The silhouette was very meaningful, she told herself. Or at least safer than Rafe.

“I like fine dining and easy access to work.”

“Missing the corporate lifestyle?”

“Yes. I don’t have enough power here. I’m not a ranch hand, I’m a power broker.”

Despite her awareness and the steady hum of need that had taken up residence inside her belly, she laughed. “Maybe you should go back. To make sure everything is okay.”

“I have staff. They make sure everything is okay.”

“Must be nice.”

“It is.”

“Are you rubbing in your richness? I’m very aware that you could buy and sell me a hundred times over. It doesn’t matter. I’m not a city girl. And I don’t like townies.”

“Townies? You don’t seriously call people that.”

“Yes. They live in towns. They’re different.” Some of them had hurt her best friend, and Heidi knew she would never get over that.

“You should embrace townies,” Rafe told her. “They buy your cheese.” He leaned back against the railing. “What markets are you in?”

She blinked at the question. “You mean like, what are the names of the stores that sell my cheese?”

The smile returned. “No. What market segments do you find most profitable? Organic, local, wine stores?”

“Oh.” She folded her hands together on top of her thighs. The faint tingling had faded, leaving her feeling uneasy and inadequate. “I sell in town. To places I can deliver to. During the festivals, I usually set up a booth.”

His expression remained expectant, as if he thought she was saving the best for last.

“That’s pretty much it.”

“How are you going to make a living doing that? You need to expand your market. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are obvious, but what about smaller organic and specialty chains? You’re within a few hours of San Francisco, and not that much farther from L.A. Both could be huge markets for you. Plenty of upscale stores, with shoppers interested in buying local and organic. You could try the food shows. Trade shows. Hell, send samples to Rachael Ray. What about your sales reps? What do they say?”

“You’re the only one out here with staff. I can’t afford to pay someone to sell my cheese.”

“It’s the only way you’re going to take things to the next level. Otherwise, you’ll be scrambling to pay the bills forever. One decent rep could pay for him- or herself in three months. You could put the rest of your profits back into the business. There are dozens of markets. Of course, that assumes you have extra cheese to sell.”

“I do.”

“Then—”

He stopped talking suddenly, as if aware of what he was doing. Helping the enemy. Because if she became successful, she could pay back his mother and win the case.

“All good ideas,” she admitted. “I’ll think about them.” Because they were smart business moves. Not that he had to worry, because even if she started right now, she couldn’t have them up and running in time. It wasn’t as if the judge was going to give her six or eight months.

“Heidi, I—” He stopped and shook his head.

She waited.

She thought he would tell her she couldn’t use his ideas, or that even if her business grew to be the size of Kraft foods, he would still win, or that she was completely out of her league with him. Instead, he muttered something she couldn’t quite hear, then leaned forward, grabbed her by her upper arms and kissed her.

She was so startled, she couldn’t react, really couldn’t even feel what was happening. Her brain couldn’t wrap itself around the action. Kissing her? Rafe? Why?

But instead of trying to answer the question, she became aware of the warmth—no, the heat—of his lips on hers. Of how they seemed to fit together. His kiss was firm—he was obviously in charge. Yet there was an unexpected gentleness. He offered rather than took and, as crazy as it sounded, she sensed he wanted her to yield. As if her giving in, her surrender, was important.