by Becky Barker
“Andrea the one Ms. Nanette worries about jet-settin’ all over the world?”
Noah sighed. “Yes,” he said, moving back down the aisle between the stalls. He headed toward the tack room, knowing Sam would follow and that he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until all his questions were answered.
“Why are they all comin’ home, anyways? Some special occasion I don’t know ‘bout?”
None of the ranch staff knew about Nanette’s plans. Most of them knew times were tough and money was tight. It was the same for everyone in the area. Four straight years of rotten weather had nearly devastated the local economy.
Bridleton was no exception. It was just bigger, a major employer for the community, and a good part of that local economy. If it failed half the families in the area would be affected one way or the other; families of men who’d dedicated their lives to keeping it productive.
He’d be damned if he’d let it happen. Too many people depended on him to save their jobs, homes and way of life. He’d do anything to keep this place from bankruptcy.
“I don’t know of any special occasion,” he finally said, hoisting a saddle and tack over his shoulder and then heading back toward Rowdy’s stall. The big bay gelding greeted him with a toss of his head and an impatient dance.
“Ready to go, are you?” he asked, his tone dropping to a low croon as he spoke to his horse.
Stepping into Rowdy’s stall, he slipped the bridle bit between the horse’s teeth and tossed a blanket over his broad back. Work had been slow this past week because of heavy rain. Life-sustaining rains. He’d never thought to see the day when mud excited him but the thrill had been nearly as good as sex.
That errant thought brought back the image of Andrea and her cool, beautiful eyes looking at him like he was white trash. Damn, she could infuriate him faster than any woman he’d ever known. The sight of her never failed to send blood coursing through his veins in a fiery rush, be it in anger or arousal. He could still feel the imprint of her breasts against his chest and it made him furious all over again.
Rowdy snorted as Noah pulled the cinch too tight. He mumbled his apology and then waited until the big horse exhaled before tightening it again.
“Tell Trace we’ll finalize plans for tomorrow once he’s done for the day. I might go to town after supper but I won’t be late.”
Trace Mitchem had been the ranch foreman for more than a decade. He knew the land and the ranch operation better than anyone.
“I’ll tell him to watch fer yer truck.”
Sam followed as Noah led Rowdy out of the barn and into the late afternoon sunlight. Once he’d mounted he settled into the saddle and gathered the reins.
“I’ll get the gate.” Sam ambled ahead of horse and rider, his bowed legs giving him a rocking motion.
Noah glanced briefly toward the house, his gaze zeroing in on Andrea’s bedroom. He knew the location well enough. How many times had he climbed onto her balcony and then lost himself for hours in the seductive sweetness of her body? Memories, sharp and vivid, sent a jolt of desire arcing to his loins. The hot sting of arousal had him shifting restlessly in the saddle, trying to subdue the ache.
He’d never forgive her for promising to love him forever then turning around and calling him a cheat. He’d never forgive her for destroying what they shared, nor for having so little faith in him. Desire sung through his veins but she’d taught him not to equate physical desire with emotional commitment.
There were other women willing to take the edge off his desire. It was just a physical craving and didn’t have anything to do with the future. He didn’t allow emotion to cloud his judgment these days. That’s one lesson he’d learned the hard way but he’d learned it well.
Nowadays all his emotional energy was reserved for saving Bridleton. In the long run nothing mattered as much as the land he loved and the continuation of an American legacy. It might not be his by birthright but it had become his passion. Second only to the woman who’d walked out on him five years ago.
* * * * *
Andrea fell to sleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow but sleep wasn’t particularly restful. Unchecked, her subconscious began to stir up mischief. Her dreams drifted to Noah and erotic memories of the way he’d always made her feel.
Her body began to hum with arousal as those memories seduced her. He was such a passionate, sensitive lover, never seeming to get tired of caressing her. His kisses grew hungrier with each touch of skin on skin.
Breasts swelling, nipples tingling, she felt his slow, thorough adoration as he caressed with his lips and teeth and tongue, especially his tongue. Such a hot, wet, wickedly adoring tongue that lapped at her nipple like a cat slowly savoring cream. It spiked need from her breast to her womb.
His big, calloused hands tugged her close against his hard body. She arched like a bow, rubbing her softness against his rigid flesh.
Need spiraled through her, a deep, gut-wrenching need that only Noah could satisfy. Andrea moaned softly, shifting restlessly against the sheets. Her arms clung to him, her body trying to lure him but she couldn’t get close enough. He kept slipping farther and farther away until she was alone and bereft, her body trembling with unsatisfied desire.
She woke with a muffled cry of frustration, her body damp and trembling. It took a few minutes to orient herself and then she started swearing. Damn! Not again. Not here, not now. Kicking the sheet from her body, she sucked in a long, deep breath. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, recurring dream she’d thought she’d banished years ago.
It had only sneaked up on her tonight because of the bizarre circumstances. Because she’d been near him again, touched him, smelled him. Because she’d felt the same strong pull of attraction she’d always felt for Noah. Because she was physically and emotionally exhausted.
All the excuses and explanations in the world didn’t satisfy the deep, desperate craving of her body. She could rationalize all she wanted but her limbs were still quivering. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples aching.
Needing to shake off the effects of the dream, she climbed from the bed and crossed to the balcony doors. After sliding them open, she shivered slightly when she stepped into the cooler night air.
Her nightgown was white satin with thin straps and a mid-thigh hem. It left most of her body exposed so she crossed her arms protectively over her chest and gazed into the star-studded sky. She didn’t know the exact time but supposed it was a few hours before dawn.
Inhaling deeply, she tried to pull herself together and shed the remnants of her dream. Then she caught the whiff of cigarette smoke. It reminded her of Noah and the memories surged back with a vengeance. His habit was just one of the many things they used to argue about.
Searching for the origin of the scent, she turned to the right, where her balcony connected with one from the master bedroom. He stood with his back to the railing, his shadowed gaze directed at her. Shirtless and barefoot, he wore only his jeans. Even in the pale light, she could tell the jeans were unsnapped and riding dangerously low on his hips. The knowledge kicked her heart rate up another notch.
His upper body gleamed bare and broad and gorgeous in the moonlight. Pale hair swirled on his chest and dipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. A shaft of desire struck low in her belly. The arousal she’d just gotten under control throbbed to life in a heartbeat.
Knowing better yet unable to help herself, she spoke softly to him, “I thought you gave up smoking.”
She watched his spine stiffen. He took another long drag, exhaled slowly and then took his time snuffing out the cigarette. Andrea wondered if he would ignore her. Common sense told her they’d both be better off if he did. Strong but dangerous yearnings made her hope he wouldn’t.
His voice went deep and husky when he finally responded. “I gave it up for a woman once,” he drawled.
Her pulse pumped into overdrive, her chest going tighter. He’d given up smoking for her. Fear kept her from voicing any
further questions but he continued to speak, finally lifting his head to return her stare.
“But I found out she wasn’t worth it,” he said in a bitter tone.
The comment pierced her like a knife. She shivered and reacted with a challenging taunt. “Your mistake.”
“My mistake,” he returned in a low growl.
Then he totally shocked her by moving toward her with slow, determined steps. When no more than a foot separated them, they stared at each other in a wild tangle of emotions. She couldn’t halt the onslaught of more memories, memories of other nights when he’d come to her bedroom by way of the balcony. So many other nights when they’d lost themselves in sensual exploration.
Renewed arousal smacked her like a bolt out of the blue. Need clawed at her as she stared into his equally needy expression. His eyes glittered, his expression and stance wooden, yet she could sense that his hunger matched hers. She felt the simmer of his heated desire and memories engulfed her again. Nobody had ever wanted her with the same ferocity of desire as Noah.
It was wrong, all wrong, and totally insane to give in to the madness. They hated each other. She hated wanting him and knew he hated it just as much. But when his arms reached for her she didn’t hesitate. When he gathered her so close she could feel every corded muscle in his body she didn’t resist.
Trembling, she pressed her face to his shoulder as his hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her against his fiery heat. She closed her eyes and gave her body over to his handling. The rasp of his zipper was the only sound she heard above the violent thud of her heart and their ragged breathing.
Tension strung them tight as a bow. Blood roared through her body, her pulse pounding in her ears. The air sizzled as their gazes locked. His touch seared her flesh when he spread his legs and drew her into the cradle of his thighs. She grasped his shoulders as he rested his weight against the railing.
His hands bunched her gown until she felt his calloused grip on her skin. He lifted her onto his lap and a tiny silk thong was all that separated their straining flesh. Andrea sucked in a ragged breath, legs shaking as her body and mind warred. She moaned, a low, keening sound of need. Her fingers dug into the smooth flesh of his shoulders as the thought of protection seeped through the sensual clouds in her brain.
“Noah!” The cry echoed in her head yet barely escaped her lips. “Protection.”
His response was to suck in a harsh breath and ease his grip on her. A tremor rocked his big body and he shuddered against her.
For several long minutes neither of them tried to move. Chests heaving from exertion, they fought for breath and control. As she inhaled, she drew in the scent of his smoky breath mingled with the faint scent of alcohol. Is that what had brought him to her side of the balcony? Had whiskey put a dent in his iron self-control? Or had he been battling the same erotic memories she’d been experiencing?
Sweat quickly chilled to goose bumps over her body. The deep, sexual need turned to even deeper self-disgust. Apparently he felt the same. Without a word he set her aside, steadying her until the strength returned to her legs.
Despite his gentleness, she felt his anger. Waves of anger and resentment rolled off his solid frame. They stared at each other as he readjusted and zipped his jeans. Without a word, he turned and walked away from her.
Andrea wrapped her arms around her midsection but that didn’t begin to ward off the chill. She watched Noah’s muscular shoulders and ramrod-straight back as he crossed the balcony and disappeared into the next room.
What the hell had they almost done? Had they both taken leave of their minds? Raw, unprotected sex on an open balcony? What if other restless sleepers had overheard them? How could she explain the inexplicable? Her only excuse was a brain gone to mush from jet lag and exhaustion. That’s the only way she could have let a wayward dream nearly become a nightmarish mistake.
She went back inside her room, closing and locking the doors then pulling the blinds. Moving in a daze, she took a long, hot shower, scrubbing the scent and feel of Noah from her skin while hot tears streamed down her face. She rarely cried but the ache she felt went soul-deep. All she wanted to do was collapse into bed and pretend they’d never touched.
* * * * *
Noah hefted another pitchfork of manure-laden straw and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. Cleaning horse stalls was dirty, backbreaking work and he’d sentenced himself to several long hours of it.
His head pounded like a sonofabitch. His muscles throbbed from lack of sleep and brutal physical exertion. Drea deserved part of the blame but she wasn’t the one who’d narrowed the final distance between them. His lack of control made him furious even while the memory of her sleepy, sexy warmth sizzled through his body, making him crave satisfaction.
He planned to ignore that throbbing.
Sweat collected on his brow so he took off his hat and swiped his shirtsleeve across his forehead. As he shoved his hat back in place he noticed movement to his right. Then he stiffened at the sight of Andrea strolling toward him. She was the last person he would have expected to show up in the barn this morning. He supposed the slow, practiced gait and seductive sway of her hips was normal for her now but it did crazy things to his libido.
For an instant, her elegant beauty stole his breath and made his body hum with pleasure. Then his defenses snapped into place and the inevitable rush of resentment knotted his gut. He hated her cool, calm composure, especially this morning.
“Stay back or you’ll ruin your prissy clothes,” he warned.
She paused two stalls down from him and lifted an arrogant brow. “Good morning to you too.”
Her sarcasm had him grinding his teeth. He picked up the pitchfork and started shoveling again. Despite the ripe smell of horse manure, he caught a whiff of her perfume. The scent kicked him where he was most vulnerable. He ground his teeth and tightened his hold on the fork, determined to ignore his body’s involuntary reaction.
“And my clothes aren’t prissy,” she argued.
She was good at disagreeing with him. She’d done it since the first day they’d met. What she called plain, he called fancy. If he saw black, she saw white. They rarely agreed on anything. Her flowery dress was as out of place in the barn as a bed of flowers but he wasn’t going to argue.
His head already hurt. He was bone-tired and beyond irritable. Hoping she’d disappear if he ignored her, he heaved another pitchfork-full of straw onto the wheelbarrow.
After a short, strained silence, she demanded his attention again. “We need to talk.”
Noah groaned, his mouth tightening. “If you want a postmortem about last night, forget it,” he snapped, scooping up more dirty straw.
From the corner of his eye he watched her cross her arms over her chest in exasperation. “Don’t get snotty with me, you’re the one who came to my side of the balcony,” she reminded.
“That I did.”
His response made her tone grow more hostile. “We almost had unprotected sex last night, Courtland. Like it or not, there’s a need for some discussion on the matter. It can’t happen again. As far as I know, you might have had sex with dozens of women.”
The insult snapped his head around and stoked his anger a notch higher. He’d never met anyone who could fire his temper as fast as Andrea. His gaze clashed with hers as he buried the pitchfork in a pile of straw and moved toward her.
“Are you asking me if I’m diseased?” he asked on a growl.
“Are you?”
Damn, she made his blood boil when she used that snooty tone. It always made him blindingly furious.
“You’re the one who’s been sleeping in beds all over the world. If either of us is diseased, my bet’s on you.”
She stiffened, her lips thinning and her expression tight. Her eyes flashed green fire. Good. He’d take honest emotion over indifference any day. They squared off, each glaring at the other, fists knotted and tempers frayed.
“I guarantee you I’m healthy,” she shot at him
. “I’m also on birth control but you obviously forgot the need. You never were very good at remembering it!”
Another direct hit. The reminder slammed into Noah, churning up old memories of insatiable loving. She was the only woman who’d ever shattered his control to the point of forgetting protection, and he wasn’t proud of the fact.
He could tell Drea regretted her loss of composure as soon as the words left her mouth. She turned her head and drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the action made her breasts heave in agitation. He watched, clenching his teeth against the memory of them naked, the nipples budded. Better to forget how they’d felt and tasted last night.
His breathing grew a little ragged. “If I swear it won’t happen again will you get the hell out of here?” he heard himself snarling.
“That’s just a tiny portion of what we need to discuss,” she said, her gaze latching on to his again.
“I’ve got work to do. Your questions can wait.” He grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow, ready to haul it out of the barn, but she blocked his way.
“I’m not budging until I get some answers.”
She could be as stubborn as a mule. Noah knew it but he didn’t care about sparing her feelings, so it was best to avoid any discussion right now.
“Why are you mucking out stalls anyway? Self-imposed penitence?”
Her guess wasn’t far off the mark. His loss of control last night gnawed at his gut. He didn’t regret holding her and caressing her. His body craved a whole lot more but the reminder of how needy he’d felt pumped his frustration higher. He held his tongue and held the handles of the wheelbarrow in a death grip.
“You’re in my way.”
They glowered at each other but neither moved an inch.
“I want to know what’s going on around here,” she demanded. “I’ve never seen the buildings looking so shabby. Paint is beginning to peel. Half the stalls are empty and the whole place has an air of disrepair. It never looked like this before you took over as manager.”