“Oh, never mind,” Roxie told her. She let her forehead rest on the broad and smooth plane between the horse’s gentle eyes. “I think I’ve already missed my chance to be a mother. I guess that’s what this is all about. I’m probably a little jealous of my friends.”
The horse whinnied in protest. “Fine,” Roxanne said with annoyance. “I realize Bea isn’t married and pregnant but, come on, like that’s ever going to happen? My point is she’s following her dream. Becoming an agility trainer is making her as happy as Ginger and Josie, just in her own way.”
Roxie lifted her head and stared off across the miles of rolling vineyard. “What I’m saying is everyone in our little group has moved on—except me. I’m still right where I started.”
“Animals are good listeners,” a voice said from behind her.
Roxie froze. She knew that voice. It was an irritatingly masculine voice. Annoyingly sexy. She hated the way it flowed, like a slow and deep river sure of its destination. And she really hated the fact that the owner of that voice might have heard even a syllable of her very private musings.
She blew out air, not turning around. So that man had suddenly decided she was worth a little of his time? Ha! And he thought it was acceptable to follow her out here without her permission? What a complete tool this guy was!
“You and I need to talk,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “I promise I will be a good listener, too.”
She kept her back to him. He didn’t deserve her full attention.
But he moved closer and … dammit! There it was again, that weird vibration she’d felt the very first time she’d met him, right here at the ranch, the day of Josie and Rick’s wedding. She would never forget the instant she noticed him. He was leaning against the stone wall between the garden and the lawn, one knee bent, the heel of one cowboy boot propped against the wall and the toe of the other tapping in the dirt. He’d pushed that stupid black hat back on his blond curls and bit down on the inside of his mouth, like he was trying to keep from laughing. He’d focused his intense green eyes right on her.
Oh, damn, he’d been gorgeous. Big and muscular in his suit. Sun-browned skin. Sensual lips. Graceful hands.
Roxanne didn’t want to think about what happened next, but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering. The truth was, Eli Gallagher’s intense gaze had sliced through her flesh, raced through her blood, and landed with a hot thud right between her legs.
The moment had made such an impression because, embarrassingly enough, that had been the only thing that had landed with a hot thud between her legs in a very long while. And that encounter with Eli had taken place more than nine months ago! And there’d certainly been no thudding since. She absolutely refused to do the bigger-picture math.
“I owe you an apology, Roxanne.”
“Nope. You don’t.” She kept her eyes on the vineyards.
“An explanation, then.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She waited. She strained to hear him let go with an exasperated sigh, or a groan of frustration, or a bitter laugh—anything that would indicate she’d gotten the better of him.
“You are one tough cookie, Ms. Bloom” was what he said.
For just a second, she shut her eyes. She summoned her strength. She knew exactly what she’d see when she turned around—an extremely handsome man, somewhere in his early thirties, with loose blond curls, dusky green eyes accented by smile lines, a set of full lips, an elegant chin, and a tall and fit body tucked inside a pair of worn jeans.
A man that spectacular could have any woman he wanted. And, as he’d made painfully clear a while back, he didn’t want her.
It was for the best. Roxanne knew she was too much for him to handle. She was too much for any man to handle. That concept had been introduced to her in childhood, with her own father. It was a pattern that would repeat itself through high school, college, then after college, and, most recently, with Raymond Sandberg—the one man she’d convinced herself was mature enough to appreciate everything she brought to the table.
Whoops. She’d been wrong on that one, hadn’t she? But it would be the last time she’d ever be wrong about a man, because she understood now. There was no man for her. There never would be. And it didn’t matter if two of her best friends had recently been sucked into the vortex of love. She would have to be okay with that. She would have to find her own peace. She was a strong woman, and if anyone could do it, Roxie could.
She shook her hair back over her shoulder, then slowly turned to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, Ian—that is your name, right? Did I remember it correctly?”
He offered her a small smile. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of hurt in his green eyes. Her insult seemed to bounce right off of him.
“Elias Jedidiah Gallagher,” he said. With dramatic flair, he swept up his hand to pluck his big black cowboy hat off his head. He placed it on his heart and bent at the waist. “At your service,” he added.
He was such an ass. Roxanne wanted to grab that ridiculous hat and whack him upside the head with it.
The Appaloosa whinnied loudly in Roxie’s ear.
“But you know that, of course,” he added, his voice teasing and pleasant. “We talked for a long while at Rick and Josie’s wedding, and there was a strong attraction between us. We both felt it. And we discussed how I might help you with your rescue dog’s aggression issues.”
“She’s cured,” Roxie said, smiling. “I no longer need your help.”
“And I distinctly remember giving you my card.”
“I must have thrown it away,” she said.
“Before or after I turned you down for that lunch date?”
Roxie enjoyed a bit of clever banter as much as the next girl. In fact, that was something she could never get enough of with Raymond. They would spar, and their words would heat up and the double-entendres would fly, and they’d end up rolling around in bed together, enflamed with desire. Raymond might have been almost thirty years her senior, but the man had been sizzling hot. Whoever said the brain was the primary sexual organ knew what they were talking about.
But, since Roxie had no interest in banter with Eli, clever or otherwise, she decided to put an end to the barnyard ambush. One ambush per day was her limit anyway, and Mrs. Needleman had gotten to her first.
“Unfortunately for you, Ian,” she said, “cowboys don’t do anything for me.” She stifled a yawn. “But I do know a girl with a major cowboy fetish. Want her number?”
“The name’s Eli.”
“Whatever.”
Eli nodded broadly. “Right. I think I understand now,” he said. “The sheer force of your indifference toward me sent you racing out the kitchen door just a minute ago. Is that it?”
“You flatter yourself,” she said, her heart now at a full gallop in her chest. She didn’t want any of this. Not the spark. Not the crackling attraction. Not the racing pulse. It had to end. So she delivered what she was sure would be the final blow. “Anyway, you had your chance. You blew it. I don’t give second chances.”
Now that got a flicker out of him. Understanding flashed in his eyes, but disappeared immediately. Eli had no comeback. He returned the hat to his head and tugged at the brim, as if to announce his imminent departure. Good riddance to him, she thought.
Suddenly, Roxanne felt something nudge her butt so hard her feet rose above the ground. She flew forward. She slammed right up against the front of Eli’s solid body. She screamed. Eli grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her, her toes just grazing the dirt. She leaned back awkwardly.
“Seems you got goosed,” Eli said, smiling.
Roxie whipped her head around in time to see the traitorous horse lope off to the other side of the paddock. When she returned her gaze to Eli, she noticed that his eyelids were heavy and his attention had shifted to her chest, throat, mouth. Then she became agonizingly aware of the touch of his strong fingers on her upper arms. Next she realized their bellies
were pressed together. The front of her thighs were smashed right into his hard …
Oh, God.
She began to squirm. “Let me go,” she said between clenched teeth.
He didn’t. His grip on her stayed gentle but seemed to deepen somehow. Roxie kicked but her feet barely skimmed across the dust. His gaze returned to hers and locked in. And that’s when the strangest thing happened.
Her body began to flood with a sensation she could only call ease. A warm, steady, calming relief that washed through her, softening her and opening her up. Everywhere.
No way was she falling for that shit.
“Settle down, sweet thing.”
The words had been delivered in that deep-river voice. His muted green eyes smiled.
Settle? Down? Sweet thing?
Just four little words and it felt like the earth had stopped turning. That comment was condescending, domineering, insulting, and, at the same time, strangely arousing. His hands maintained their grip on her as he lowered her feet to the ground. She became a little lightheaded. She didn’t know what was happening. The sensations swirling around inside her were confusing. Scary. Intense. Sexual. She resented all of it.
And if she hadn’t despised Eli Gallagher before, she surely did now. How dare he touch her like this? How dare he talk to her with that languid voice? How dare he treat her like a wild stray animal who needed his gentle touch?
And who the hell did he think he was, knocking her off balance this like this? If she’d wanted to experience ease and calm she would have gone out and gotten it the normal way—with a prescription!
“Don’t ever put your hands on me again,” Roxie managed.
“I won’t hurt you, Roxanne.”
She felt weak. Way too warm. She wanted to escape his grip but couldn’t seem to muster the energy. It took every bit of strength she possessed to shake her head side to side. “No,” she whispered.
“You’re safe with me.”
And that’s when it happened. Out of nowhere, for no good reason, a sob erupted from her throat. Before she even realized what was happening, the calm had punched a hole in that giant bubble of rage and grief inside her, and it all came flooding out in one long, searing moan. There was no stopping it. She wanted to die from shame.
Eli kissed her. She knew immediately that the kiss wasn’t designed to stop the outburst. Its fierceness only demanded more. The kiss—the heat, the pressure, the need—it wrenched the emotion right of her.
No. This was impossible. This was nuts! She wouldn’t allow it. No man would ever again lull her into being a stupid, hopeful, defenseless, emotional, babbling idiot the way she’d been with Raymond. She would never leave herself vulnerable like that again. It had been a sacred promise she’d made to herself. No man—Eli Gallagher included—was worth the loss of her self-respect.
She shoved so hard that he lost his grip on her, with both his hands and his lips. Roxie gasped for breath and tried to find her bearings, quite aware of how Eli’s eyes had widened with confusion. She turned and ran. Her feet pounded the hard dirt. Within minutes she was in her car heading south on Highway 121, on her way home to San Francisco, where she would undoubtedly shove everything back in its proper place, the way she always did.
The Night She Got Lucky Page 29