She looked down at her state of undress, then back at him. Her eyes were as wide and expressive as a young filly’s. “I’m not dressed,” she said.
He hoped his swollen dick wasn’t as obvious as it was painful. “I noticed.”
Emotion deepened her already dark brown eyes. A line of exasperation creased her brow. “I’m sorry you didn’t know I was coming. I’m sorry I made myself at home while you were out.” She stopped and her voice softened. “The truth is, I’ve driven a long way to get here and I’m just too tired to fight about it. I’d like to get dressed. Did Lucy come home with you?” She began to slide around him, inching toward her clothing.
He settled back on his heels a bit. “Lucy?”
“Your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.” This pretty little woman was about as loony as they come, but a man couldn’t be blamed for overlooking that when she stood there with her skin still pink from the heat of the shower.
She stumbled back a bit at that. “Y-you don’t?” Eyes big with surprise, she chewed her bottom lip nervously. “But this is the Double C Ranch.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.”
“And you’re Lucy’s brother, Steven Albright.”
“No, ma’am, I’m not. My name’s Tony, Tony Carlton.”
He waited for a reaction to his name, then received one he hadn’t expected. His little shower beauty rubbed her forehead with the back of one hand. He watched her and worried for his sanity as he once again became mesmerized by her movements. He should care who Steven was, but instead all he could think about was how he wanted to redirect that hand to rubbing something else, something that was craving her touch in a bad way.
“I don’t understand. Isn’t this the Double C Ranch in Mavis?”
He removed his hat and wiped the wet sheen from his forehead. The residual steam from the shower added to an overall temperature spike caused by prolonged exposure to a scene worthy of mention in a men’s magazine. “Fort Mavis.”
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded with real shock. Not too much amused him, but her look of horror tickled what was left of his funny bone. “We’re almost a day’s drive west of Mavis,” he added.
She went pale, and then a deep red flush started at her neck and ran straight over her face. “You feeling okay, ma’am?” he asked, and went to her side right quick. He was not about to explain to Doc how a near-naked city woman cracked her fool head in his bathroom. Desire took second seat to concern.
He was relieved when she sat on the closed toilet seat. Her adorable shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes in a childlike attempt to disappear. “So,” the little beauty groaned, “I’m in the wrong town.”
“Yes, ma’am, it sure sounds that way.” He knew he should step out of the bathroom and let her get dressed. The mystery was solved. She wasn’t a reporter or a thief. No, she was just . . . blonde. The thought had the corners of his mouth itching to smile.
Regaining some of her composure, she brought her delicate hands down, stood, squared her shoulders, and met his eyes—knocking all coherent thought clear out of his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that gas station attendant. I was just so happy that he’d heard of the place.” Her color was back to normal, but her voice was a bit strained. “Does Texas have a lot of ranches named Double C?”
“Appears we have at least two,” he said, and this time he could not restrain the lusty grin that spread across his face. She was as adorable as she was sexy, a disconcerting combination. Had she turned up the heat and come on to him, he would have lost interest—well, after sampling whatever she’d offered.
Apparently a man could only go so long without sex before he lost his damn mind, because it appeared that she wasn’t the least bit interested in him. Truth be told, as the enormity of the situation sunk in, she wasn’t paying much attention to him at all.
“I can’t believe I did this . . .” A look of self-disgust crossed her delicate features. “Oh my God. My brother will never let me live this down. Only I would drive all this way to the wrong ranch.”
She paused and her eyes widened. “The wrong ranch.” Repeating the words slowly with new emphasis. She retightened the top of her towel with hands that shook a little. “I should get dressed.”
Even though the towel concealed more than shorts and a tank top would have, picturing what lay under it was torturing him. He’d managed to clear his head of images of her writhing with pleasure beneath him, but they were clamoring to return. It was time to make a hasty exit while he still had a mind to. Mustering a nod, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
Too soon she was with him again. No makeup. No shoes. Just wearing a simple flowered sleeveless blouse and a pair of tan shorts, whose midthigh length was likely considered modest. And the sight of her still drove him damn near crazy. He wanted to run a hand up one of her legs, to test if they were, in truth, as soft as they appeared.
She rushed by him and disappeared into the living room. He followed, aroused but trying to remain irritated by the presence of this stranger in his home.
Gorgeous or not, she has to go.
“I really am sorry about this,” she burst out with her rapid-fire Northern accent. “You probably think I’m crazy. I guess I am.” She paced back and forth in front of him, a barefoot beauty. “I knew I should have bought a map.” She waved her cell phone in the air. “It worked the rest of the way down here, but not when it really mattered.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he felt the stirring of something even more worrisome than lust. A tickle of adrenaline licked through his veins as his high-energy intruder came to a stop in front of him. It had been years since anything had made his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. Something about this woman pulled at a part of him he’d long considered dead.
Oblivious to how close he was to hauling her to him and tasting those tempting, pursed lips, Sarah said, “I’ll get my stuff and be out of here before I cause any trouble.”
“Trouble?” Dammit, now why didn’t I simply agree?
She turned away, bent, and gave him a delightful view of her never-ending legs as her shorts rose up. She didn’t seem to notice, just kept rummaging through her luggage. “With your girlfriend or wife or whatever.”
“No trouble,” he drawled. Crazy must be catching, because he was having difficulty reconciling what he knew he should say with the damn fool things coming out of his mouth.
“There they are,” she exclaimed happily, and pulled out the most impractical pair of boots he’d ever seen: knee-high, polished leather, with ridiculously spindly heels and some sort of strap across the top. She held them up next to one leg. “I bought these special for this trip. Do you like them?”
He didn’t answer. His thoughts weren’t the type that should be shared with a woman he’d just met. Like them? No man would ever ask her to take them off. Those were the kind of boots that stayed on all night.
She sat on the couch as she pulled them on. Her big brown eyes studied him intensely. He’d bought horses with less of a perusal than she was giving him. He wished he had taken the time to shave that morning. His plaid shirt was covered with dust and sweat from the time he’d spent working in the hot afternoon. The old jeans he’d thrown on without a second thought that morning were smudged with grass stains. Not much to look at.
“Could I bother you for one more thing?” Her voice was huskier than before. “May I use your phone?” She held up her cell phone. “This thing is useless here and my friends must be worried by now. They expected me hours ago.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to answer. The way she continued to look him over . . . slowly . . . from head to foot had him fumbling for sanity. He pointed to the land phone on the small table in the corner of the room and wordlessly watched her walk to it.
Damn.
“There’s still no answer.
” She waved the handset helplessly in the direction of her distant friends. “I guess I should just head over there and wait till they get home.”
“Are you sure you can find the place?” he asked without missing a beat, surprising himself.
As she replaced the handset, Sarah’s eyes narrowed at him even as her dimples revealed her good humor at his teasing. “A cowboy and a comedian?”
Tony shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever been accused of being funny before.” He’d never had much to laugh about and didn’t see any merit in acting the clown, since the world was full of those who took to idiocy naturally.
Her expression softened. “Well, you should try it more often. It suits you.”
The compliment jolted him like a brush with electric fencing. Tony retreated a step and almost tripped when the back of his boot met her suitcase.
She advanced and reached to steady him but he stepped back again, evading her touch.
The sound of the front door opening had never been so welcome. Women make men stupid. Plain and simple. Wasn’t that what his father had always said? He didn’t need more proof than practically falling on his ass because a woman half his size had complimented him.
The shuffle of boots across the wooden floor announced that someone was joining them. Melanie. Her presence wasn’t a surprise. As his housekeeper, she used his kitchen on a daily basis to prepare meals for him. Normally, however, she was better at minding her own business.
Yep, she was fixing to break the one rule he’d laid down the day he’d hired her and, for a reason he wasn’t comfortable exploring, he wasn’t prepared to correct her in front of Sarah.
Melanie came to a stop at the doorway. “You have company? Do you need anything?” She looked over as she spoke, and for a moment the two women simply stared at each other.
A man would have been hard-pressed to say if these two women could get along. Life hadn’t been kind to Melanie, and she’d spent almost as much time hiding on his secluded ranch as he had. Although she was likely only a few years older than Sarah, they couldn’t have been more different. If the two were cats, Sarah would be the fluffy, white, pampered city type that would probably run at the first sign of a rodent. Melanie would be a brown, bad-tempered barn cat: useful to have but better kept outside.
Not that she ever showed her temper around him; no one did and stayed.
He was still debating how to get both of them out of his house when Sarah stepped forward with the huge, welcoming smile he’d seen on her face when she’d thought he was her friend’s brother.
She took Melanie’s hand in hers and shook energetically. “Hi, my name’s Sarah.”
Melanie pulled her hand free. Did he imagine the hiss? Careful, Sarah. Feral cats aren’t real good when cornered. He figured he could intervene before things got ugly, but most creatures got along better if you let them sort it out for themselves.
Sarah’s smile didn’t dim as she waited for the other woman to speak.
“Melanie,” his dark-haired housekeeper said curtly.
In the high-speed way she spoke, Sarah said, “I can only imagine what you must be thinking, but this is much more ridiculous and innocent than it looks.” She took her phone out of her back pocket and waved it between them. “I mean, who knew it wouldn’t work out here, right?” She looked over her shoulder at Tony and said, “Your husband was just letting me use your phone.” Then she flushed a delightful shade of pink. “Okay, your shower, too, but he didn’t let me use that. I mean, I did use it, but that was before I knew you would both be here. Which, you should be, because it’s your house. So why wouldn’t you be here? I’m the one who shouldn’t be here. And I’m actually just leaving.”
Melanie, who’d simply stared at Sarah during this overflowing river of speech, raised her eyebrows and stated succinctly, “I’m not his wife.”
“Whew,” Sarah said with a laugh, then stopped and looked at both of them again. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. If you’re his girlfriend or whatever, I’m cool with that. It was just that—whoa, explaining this to a wife would be so much worse. Not that anything happened.” Sarah closed her eyes briefly as if the thought pained her, then continued earnestly, “Unless you count that he saw me naked, and that totally wasn’t his fault.”
Melanie said blandly, “I work here.”
“Oh, I thought . . .”
“No,” Melanie and Tony said in unison.
Another blush spread across Sarah’s cheeks. The quick look she gave Tony sent his heart racing and his thoughts scattering.
“Sarah isn’t staying,” he said gruffly. “As soon as she locates her friends, she’s leaving.”
Sarah deflated a bit at his harsh declaration. “Yes, in fact, they should be there now. I should head out.”
I’ll probably regret this. “Melanie, make a second plate for dinner. Sarah and I will eat in the dining room.”
Hard to say which woman he’d shocked more. Sarah looked back and forth between them as if seeking reassurance. “I am hungry. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Melanie didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. In fact, he preferred she didn’t. He wasn’t ready to explain to anyone, not even himself, why he was reluctant to see Sarah leave.
It was more than how his body responded to the sight of hers. He wanted . . .
He wasn’t sure what exactly.
Was it because she had no idea who he was? She was neither intimidated by his reputation nor excited by the idea of being with a man many considered dangerous. No, she looked at him like there wasn’t a reason in the world why they couldn’t be friends . . . or more.
Tony had been alone so long that he’d begun to believe he preferred it that way. In the beginning it had been easier, and over time it had become comfortable. Tonight he didn’t want to be a man with a past he regretted. He didn’t want to be angry. He wanted to have an uncomplicated dinner with a beautiful woman. Knowing she was leaving after their meal made it much easier to allow himself the possibility of enjoying it.
Melanie had just finished setting two places at one end of the dining room table when he and Sarah entered the room. No one would have guessed this was the first time anyone had sat there in the five years he’d owned the place. He preferred the solitude of the small kitchen table. He wasn’t about to mention it, though—women would falsely read meaning into something like that.
Chapter Two
Standing in the doorway of the dining room, Sarah wished life had a “Pause” button. She wanted to slow time and savor each moment. Another woman might have been afraid, but the joy of the unexpected was the reason Sarah often chose riding the trails instead of sticking to the ring at the barn she boarded her horse at. Outside of the riding ring, she was free, and anything was possible.
This wasn’t how my trip was supposed to go, but look at me, standing next to a real cowboy—one with a shy smile and a slow Southern drawl. He belongs in a book. She figured he was in his late twenties or early thirties, but the rugged lines of his face spoke of years of hard work, and his callused hands held a powerful promise she’d never imagined in the manicured, smooth texture of the city men she was used to.
He even smells like the outdoors.
How strange would I look if I took out my notebook and jotted down all the things I don’t want to forget about him? I’d start with those muscles. Those heavenly muscles. Unlike the hulking men who strutted like peacocks at her local gym, this man had the understated, quiet strength that Sarah found a million times sexier. He earned those delicious biceps and that rock-hard body in a way that wouldn’t have diminished the size of his . . .
In the middle of an appreciative sigh, Sarah realized her gaze had followed her thoughts in a less-than-subtle ogling of his lower assets. She looked up quickly, her face heating with a blush when she met his eyes. Quick. Say something. “I like yo
ur . . . uh . . . jeans.”
Who the hell says that?
“Pardon the dust.” He brushed his hand down one thigh, a move that sent responding flickers of heat through Sarah. There it was again, that almost smile. “I usually shower when I get home, but it was already occupied.”
You could have joined me, Sarah thought, surprised at herself. Oh my God, I’m smiling like some street lunatic. Don’t look guilty; look away or he’ll know what you were thinking. She met his eyes and the heat that flew between them made her start considering all sorts of impulsive things—many of which included the removal of some or all of their clothing.
Sarah gulped.
Okay, this is not a good idea. I don’t know this man.
But I’d like to.
Oh, how I’d like to.
Stop that! she chastised her raging libido. This summer is about breaking free, living, finding my writer’s voice—not about having a one-night stand just because my sense of direction sucks.
She sought sanity by turning her attention to the table. The very long, very sturdy table. What would it be like to push the plates aside and . . .
A huge smile spread across her face as images of them entwined passionately elicited another thought. I have a naughty side.
Me.
Who knew? All I needed was the right inspiration!
Tony moved to stand behind one of the chairs and pulled it out for her to sit. When she did, he pushed it in with more force than she’d expected and she gasped. He took the seat across from her but looked far from happy about it, making her wonder if their attraction was indeed mutual.
Sarah had never considered herself a beauty, nor was she used to men glowering at her like she was an . . . uninvited guest? I’m such an idiot. He’s feeding me out of pity. This isn’t a date. No amount of leering at him will change that. Sarah groaned, pushed her seat back, and stood. “I should go.”