One month later, Amaya’s rented Toyota swerved on the dusty, potholed driveway of the Johnson farm, and Amanda bit back a curse. "What the f*ck is wrong with him?" Cursing her way into the massive farmland of his boss, she grumbled to herself. "In this Godforsaken town? Seriously? What the hell is he doing here anyway?"
Her average driving skills had little to do with the state of the road or the unwelcome memories of their shared goodnight kisses in his office a week before going to Los Angeles assailing her and everything to do with the naked man bent over a thresher.
Semi-naked, technically, as her gaze riveted on the tantalising expanse of her broad back, glistening.
Shit!
The muscles shifted, bunched, and slid as he straightened and thrust his hands into his back pockets of ripped
