Breathless

by Beverly Jenkins

  Kent assumed that when he and Portia met to talk about the dude ranch, she would sit behind her desk, tell him what he needed to know, and send him on his merry way, but he wanted to spend some time with her, preferably away from her office. Even though he was supposed to be keeping his distance, he wanted to know her better. He was intrigued by both her beauty and the intense smarts underneath. She was no meek wallflower waiting to be picked and he liked that, too. He wondered if she’d be agreeable to talking outside. There were still a few hours of daylight left and they could conduct their business at one of the tables. That way he could enjoy her along with the view of the mountains and the cooling breeze. He might even be able to make her smile. He got the impression she didn’t share her smile much outside of family, so when he stuck his head in her office, he asked, “How about we talk outdoors? It’s too nice an evening to be cooped up inside.” He saw her hesitate.

  She finally responded. “Sure, okay.”

  Outside, they sat at the table opposite each other. As he savored the sight of her and the sounds of the breeze playing against the leaves, he said, “This is much better than being inside, don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “So, tell me what I need to know.”

  Rhine had already given him a brief explanation of how the dude ranch worked, but Portia’s was more detailed. In truth though, only part of him was listening because the others were wondering how she’d react if he kissed her, what scent she wore hidden beneath the high collared blouses she favored, and how he might go about achieving answers to those questions.

  “Kent? Are you listening?”

  “Sorry. Got distracted there for a moment. Did you ask me something?”

  “Yes. Do you know any stories about outlaws, ghosts, or lost gold? It’s something the guests look forward to around the campfire during supper.”

  “I do.”

  The look on her face said she didn’t believe him.

  “Do you know the ‘Legend of La Llorana’?”

  “No.”

  He deepened his voice and slowed the cadence. “A woman in white drags helpless children to a screaming watery death.”

  She looked so startled he almost smiled. “Or, I could tell the story of the hell dogs of Eldorado where large ferocious ghost dogs haunt the abandoned mines in Nevada. You can hear them dragging their chains, but you never see them.”

  He continued. “El Muerte, the headless horseman. He rides the plains of Texas with his severed head hanging from his saddle.” He grabbed her arm and she jumped.

  “Stop that,” she demanded with a laugh. She studied him for a long moment. “How many stories like that do you know?”

  He enjoyed surprising her again. “A fair amount. I worked on a spread in Montana and there was an old cook who had more tales than a porcupine has spines. He kept us entertained on the long winter nights. Impressed?”

  “Yes. That’s just the type of story the guests will want. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I like impressing you. Only because it seems most men don’t. Impress you I mean.”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  Caught off guard, he froze. “I’m sorry. I must’ve misheard you. Say that again.”

  She looked irritated. “I want you to kiss me.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I need to cure myself of whatever these feelings are I’m starting to have for you, and don’t ask me what feelings. You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he said as he studied her gorgeous ebony face. She looked so put out he wanted to smile but kept his features bland. “Have you ever been kissed before?”

  “No.”

  “Then I should warn you that this probably won’t cure you, Duchess. In fact, it might make matters worse.”

  “I don’t think it will.”

  He sat back and folded his arms. “And you think this because . . .”

  “Once I know what it feels like I should be able to manage it from now on.”

  “Like you manage a ledger or the hotel?”

  “Maybe not quite the same thing, but in a way, yes.”

  “Woman, you are going to be in so much trouble.”

  She refused to meet his eyes and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle that slipped out. “So much trouble.” As the silence lengthened he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  “I am.”

  Kent pondered the proposal for a second or two, weighed the pros and cons and, because he couldn’t come up with any of the latter, said, “Okay. Get your horse. Let’s go for a ride. If Rhine sees us kissing, he’ll geld me.” Maybe one con. “And, Duchess, this isn’t going to be a Sunday school peck on the cheek. Do you still want to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  Portia left him and went inside and found Rhine and Eddy in the sitting room. “I’m going to show Kent the waterfall. We’ll be back shortly.”

  Interest filled their eyes, but before they could react further, she went to her room to change into a riding skirt. With that accomplished, she quickly headed to the stables to saddle her mare, Arizona. This is going to be a real kiss from a real man. Second thoughts about her plan began to rise. What if he was right about a kiss only making matters worse? A part of her wanted to turn tail and run but she had never run from anything and was not about to start now. She could handle this.

  When she rode up he was on his stallion waiting beneath the big wooden arch that held the sign with the hotel’s name.

  As she neared, his roan reared in challenge, but Kent kept his seat easily. “Stop showing off,” he said to the stallion, but it reared again, eyes on the mare, and Arizona backed away.

  Kent told Portia. “He’s just letting your mare know he’s interested. How old is she?”

  “Four.”

  “She ever been mounted?”

  The question had Portia’s second thoughts flooding her mind, but she managed to answer, “No. Can we go now?”

  He touched his hat. “After you.”

  She turned Arizona and they rode at a slow pace away from the hotel. Her mare had never been mounted and neither had she. As the daughter of a prostitute, Portia had witnessed her mother coupling with men on more than a few occasions. Because their one-bedroom shack had been so small, it was nearly impossible to avoid. She remembered her mother’s dispassionate face as the grunting men rutted over her with their pants pulled down and their behinds bared. It was an activity she’d vowed to avoid because it hadn’t looked pleasurable or pleasant. In fact, her mother didn’t seem to feel anything at all, leaving the then young Portia with the impression that it was an emotionless exercise. But being around Eddy and Rhine showed her how wrong her impressions had been. Her aunt and uncle loved and cared for each other in a way she would probably never know. Their connection was so passionate it was almost embarrassing to be around them sometimes. But Portia didn’t want passion from Kent, just a kiss so she’d know what it felt like, and once that was accomplished, her inner curiosity would be satisfied and she’d be fine.

  When they reached the spot she’d picked out, she pulled back on Arizona’s reins. The gray rock canyon was one of her favorite places because it held the waterfall she and her sister had named Carmichael Falls. She dismounted. Leaving Arizona to graze on the sparse grass she walked towards the falls.

  He dismounted and came up beside her, “Nice spot.”

  “We bring the guests here. Many have never seen a waterfall and they’re always awed by the sight.”

  “Can you get closer to the water?”

  “Only on foot. Regan and I used to come here when we were younger and swim in the pool below. It’s quite a hike to thread your way through the canyons but well worth it.”

  “Never pegged you for a swimmer.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “You seem too serious for something as carefree as swimming.”

  “I have my moments.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”

/>   Portia was terribly nervous and she didn’t like it. She was a lot more confident when in control of herself and the situation. “Let’s get this over with. I told Eddy and Rhine we’d be back shortly.” When he shook his head and smiled, she asked, “What?”

  “This isn’t something you rush into if you want to do it right. I assume you do want to do it right.”

  Portia didn’t know what she wanted but, grabbing hold of her nerves, she replied with a firmness she didn’t feel. “Yes.”

  “Okay, come walk with me.” He held out his hand.

  She glanced down at it and then back up into his eyes. Reminding herself that she’d asked for this, she placed her hand in his and the sweet warmth that slid into her blood made her tremble both inside and out. He upped the ante by gently threading his fingers through hers and it felt so natural it was almost terrifying to a woman who’d spent her entire life certain she’d never be moved by any man. When he raised her hand and placed a soft kiss on her fingertips, her emotions swelled with such force her legs wobbled and her eyes closed for a long second. When they opened again, his were waiting but he didn’t speak. Still holding her hand, he started for the canyon.

  There were a few trees lining the canyon’s lip and he stopped them there. Usually the sight of the water cascading down was enough to steal her breath, but because of his presence and what was about to come, the vista barely registered.

  “So,” he said softly. “Let’s give you this kiss . . .”

  He released her hand and when he slowly traced a finger down her cheek, the resulting spark was so startling, she jumped.

  Amusement shone in his eyes. “I can see you’re going to manage this real well, Duchess.”

  She came to her own defense. “You—you surprised me. I thought you were going to kiss me not touch me.”

  “Touching’s important sometimes. You don’t want a man to just grab you and plant his lips on yours. There’s no passion in that.”

  “I don’t want pass . . .” The word died as his finger boldly traced her bottom lip. All thought fled.

  “I don’t think this uppity mouth knows what it wants,” he husked out, and when he kissed her what little control Portia still possessed tumbled away like wind-blown autumn leaves.

  “Make your lips soft, baby.”

  Mindless, she complied and was swept away. He taught her thoroughly and completely just what a kiss entailed, and no, she’d had no idea. The heat in it, the fire in it made her moan in response. She didn’t know when he eased her in against his body but it felt so right she wanted his strength closer. She wrapped her arms around him and hoped the large hand moving slowly and possessively up and down the back of her blouse wouldn’t stop. Her lips parted of their own accord giving his searing tongue access to hers, and it cajoled, seduced, and tutored until she was mimicking the lesson willingly. Breathless, she wanted to be kissed by him forever, only to have him gently turn her loose and step away.

  It took a few moments for Portia’s mind to climb up from wherever the kiss had sent it and for her eyes to open. When they did, he was there.

  “Now you’ve been kissed . . . with passion.”

  She couldn’t deny it but told herself she didn’t have to like it, even though she had. Very much.

  “Still think you can manage what you felt like a ledger or the hotel?”

  “I’m ready to go back.”

  “Made things worse, didn’t it? Told you so. I can give you another if you think it might help.”

  “I’m leaving.” If she didn’t, she’d be begging for more and she was already appalled enough by her uninhibited response.

  “Okay, but I did enjoy kissing your uppity mouth. You’re a very passionate woman, Duchess.”

  She turned and stalked back the way they’d come.

  As they rode home in silence Kent decided he was going to have a real difficult time staying away from her after this. She had no idea how tempting she’d looked with her eyes closed and her mouth swollen from his kisses. He’d had to turn her loose to stop them from slipping into territory not ready to be explored. She was far more passionate than she knew and her uncle notwithstanding, he wanted to be the man to gently coax that passion to the surface. He wasn’t sure how to accomplish that and not be turned into a eunuch but he was thoroughly captivated by the force of nature known as Miss Portia Carmichael, so he’d figure it out. He glanced over. Outwardly, she was tight-lipped but looked none the worse for wear. He wondered what might be going on inside, though. Was the kiss still resonating within her as it was for him? Would she continue to fight the passion she’d allowed herself to enjoy, and what might it be like when she surrendered to it fully? Of course, there was no guarantee she would, but he had a feeling that she’d dug a hole for herself that she was going to have a lot of trouble climbing out of.

  Later, alone in her room, Portia paced. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of her first kiss. He’d made her so breathless, it was a wonder she’d been able to mount Arizona and ride home. And Lord help her, she wanted more. A hundred times more. More of his palm moving over her spine, more of his hard body against her soft one, more of his seeking tongue. She hated to admit it, but he’d been right about it only exacerbating the problem. She felt as if she’d lost her mind.

  A soft knock on the connecting door interrupted her inner tirade. “Come in,” she all but snarled.

  Regan entered, took one look at Portia’s face and asked, “What’s wrong? Aunt Eddy said you and Kent went riding. Did you two argue?”

  “No,” she replied tersely.

  Regan studied her silently for a long moment and then asked with a grin. “Did he kiss you, sister mine?”

  The snap in Portia’s eyes was her reply.

  Regan stilled. “Without your consent.”

  “No of course not.”

  “Then, knowing you, I’m assuming you’re mad because you didn’t believe it would be so wonderful.”

  “Let’s just say I had trouble remembering my name afterwards.”

  Regan laughed. “I think I’m jealous.”

  Portia blew out a breath. “What a naïve ninny I am.”

  “Portia, you can look at that cowboy and know he can kiss.”

  Portia threw her a quelling look.

  “Sorry,” her sister offered contritely, but amusement continued to play at the corners of her lips.

  “I asked him to kiss me, thinking I’d be able to control my reaction.”

  “You asked him?”

  “I did.”

  “Some things can’t be controlled.”

  “I understand that now, which means no kissing Kent Randolph.”

  “If you couldn’t remember your name, I’m thinking you’re not going to have much control over the future either, but I wish you luck.”

  Seeing the humor in that, Portia sighed, “I’m doomed aren’t I?”

  “I believe so.”

  “You’re supposed to offer me hope.”

  “I’m your sister, I’m supposed to offer you the truth, so when should I begin looking for a gown to wear to the wedding?”

  Portia’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you horrid girl.”

  The grinning Regan walked over and gave Portia a peck on the cheek. “Good night, Portia. I used to practice my kissing on the back of my hair brush. You might want to try it.”

  Portia firmed her lips to keep from laughing. “Good night, Regan.”

  Regan exited.

  Alone, Portia wondered what she’d do without her silly little sister. Her eyes strayed to her hair brush lying on the vanity table. Chuckling, she turned away and prepared for bed.

  Later, lying there in the dark, she once again weighed her options. She decided she wasn’t doomed. All she had to do was not ask for anymore of his kisses and she’d be fine. Problem solved. A voice inside laughed, but she ignored it and burrowed down to sleep.

  Chapter Five


  Portia and Regan entered the dining room for breakfast just as Kent was bringing a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs out of the kitchen. Seeing him brought back memories of their smoldering encounter at the canyon and Portia was torn between looking at him and not. He seemed to have no such problem.

  “Morning, ladies. Help yourself to the eggs if you like.”

  Regan picked up a plate. “There’s something special about a man who knows his way around a skillet. Don’t you think so, Portia?”

  “I suppose” was all she allowed herself to say. A quick glance showed him watching her. She returned his gaze steadily, her way of showing she was again in control, but as if he knew his kiss had been her first conscious thought upon awakening, his eyes sparkled with teasing amusement.

  Eddy followed him out with a platter of biscuits and set it down by the eggs. “Thanks for your help with breakfast, Kent. You’re going to make some woman very happy one day.”

  Mentally shaking her head, Portia picked up a plate and helped herself to the offerings. When she was done she took a seat across from Regan, whose knowing grin she promptly ignored. Kent set his plate down beside Regan and everyone started in on their meal.

  “What time are we leaving for Mr. Blanchard’s wake this evening?” Portia asked her aunt.

  “Around six or so. Kent, would you care to go with us? I know you didn’t know him.”

  “I talked with Rhine about it and I’d like to pay my respects.”

  “Then you’re welcome. Buggy only sits four so you’ll have to ride.”