Dinner with Zane hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. They’d started out okay, but early on, he’d gotten quiet. She wanted to tell herself it was because he had a lot on his mind, but in her heart, she had a feeling he simply didn’t find her interesting. Which was too bad, because he was the most compelling man she’d ever met.

“You think I’m too hard on the boy.”

His words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that it took her a second to catch up. “Not unless you’re beating him in secret.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe one corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve thought about it from time to time.”

Phoebe made a quick mental list of Chase’s recent infractions, then admitted the possibility that he’d been a handful all of his life.

“Thinking and acting are two different things.”

Zane’s response was a quiet grunt. She tried to figure out if that was better or worse than a loud grunt. When she couldn’t come up with a decision, she turned her attention to the pen in front of them.

“Tell me about the goats,” she said.

“What do you want to know?”

Like she had a basic “Ten facts about goats” list she needed filled. “Are they friendly?”

Zane shot her a look that wasn’t especially pleasant...or flattering. Okay, so if he didn’t like the question he could have volunteered information on his own.

“They can be tamed. It takes time and effort.”

Somehow she doubted he was willing to put either into the goats.

“Chase implied it’s a problem for a cattle rancher to have goats. Is that true?”

Zane shifted his weight, then stepped back from the pen. “Come on,” he said and started walking.

Phoebe figured she had the choice to follow him or not. Even as she told herself he wasn’t very social and obviously didn’t like having her around, her hormones kicked in, sending instructions to her legs. Before she could decide if she wanted to follow Zane or not, she found herself dutifully trailing after him.

They circled around a barn, passing more pens with more goats. There were dozens and dozens of the horned, furry critters. An entire goat colony. Sort of a Nicholson Ranch Goat-ville.

Zane stopped in front of a pen filled with small goats. Instantly her kitten-and-puppy-loving heart contracted at the sight of baby goats. They were small and sweet-looking with big eyes and dark noses they had yet to grow into.

She crouched down by the fence and sighed. Her heretofore silent biological clock offered a soft but meaningful tick.

“Just weaned,” he said.

“They’re darling.”

“They’re for sale.”

Phoebe gasped. “You’re allowing some stranger to rip apart goat families?” The second the words were out, she realized how stupid they sounded.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said hastily as she scrambled to her feet. “It’s not as if goats have an actual social infrastructure that will be disturbed by separation or anything. And if they’re old enough to be weaned, then I guess they’ll be okay on their own.”

Zane’s expression remained unreadable throughout her monologue, for which she was really grateful. When she was done, he let the silence linger. A neat trick that made her words echo in her brain, sounding more ridiculous with each replay.

Finally he asked, “What did you say you did in LA?”

“I sell real estate.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Beverly Hills.”

“Ever been on a horse?” he asked.

“Just a wooden one.”

Zane turned away. She thought he might have muttered something under his breath. As it hadn’t sounded like “golly darn” she didn’t ask him to repeat it.

“Why did Maya drag you out here?” he asked.

Phoebe didn’t think telling him that Maya was hoping she would be a distraction, and a possible sex partner, would be something he was longing to hear.

“I needed a vacation,” she said. Unfortunately the statement came out sounding a whole lot more like a question.

Zane grunted.

Even annoyed and monosyllabic, he was still intensely appealing. Phoebe liked the way he squinted in the bright sun. Lines formed by his eyes, which gave him the appearance of being wise beyond his years. It probably wasn’t true, but hey, this was her bout of physical attraction and she could take it in any direction she liked...as long as she wasn’t foolish enough to act on it.

“Chase implied you hate the goats,” she said to change the subject and get the attention off her. “Why do you keep them?”

She expected him to say something like they made a lot of money—and based on how much she’d paid for her only cashmere twinset, she knew that had to be true. Or maybe that he was doing an experimental genetic ranch-type breeding program thing with them.

Instead he said, “My dad bought them. He saw them as a way to diversify. He wanted to end up with the biggest herd in the continental US.”

Oh, man. Phoebe wanted to stomp her foot on the soft grass and offer up her version of a four letter word. This was not right. Maya had always painted a picture of Zane that was coldhearted, taciturn and humorless. In her mind he’d been more of a robot than a real person. Which had made her instant—and somewhat embarrassing—physical attraction interesting, but not significant. Because there wasn’t a real person inside. But if Zane was human and nice, she could be in real trouble. After all, a man who kept goats just because his dad had liked them couldn’t be all bad. Right?