by Robin Wells
“Oh, hey…I’m sorry.” His deep voice was contrite. “That must be rough. I had no idea…”
The veil abruptly lifted. The man stood in front of her, his dark eyes worried and apologetic.
“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her face, first drying her cheeks, then gently wiping her forehead. “You have some mud here, too,” he said, rubbing the cloth across her chin.
His gentleness jarred Josie as much as his earlier rudeness. She stared up at him, surprised to find his face so close, his eyes so dark and concerned.
Still holding the hanky, he placed his hands on her shoulders. His fingers were warm on the wet silk. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize…”
His change of demeanor disoriented her. Or maybe it was his nearness. She was keenly aware of the weight of his hands, of his masculine scent, of his breath on her face.
Her gaze fastened on his lips, and a wild, alien thought formed in her mind: what would it feel like to kiss him?
Merciful heavens, where had that thought come from? She lowered her gaze, suddenly self-conscious. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself; it’s not like the thought is tattooed on your forehead. He’s a cowboy, not a mind reader.
“I’ve never had a guest show up in a wedding gown before,” he said apologetically. He gently tilted up her chin. The pads of his fingers were callused, and the rasp of them on her skin made her heart rate soar.
Funny…she couldn’t remember a man ever touching her face before. Certainly not Robert. And she’d never known fingers could be so warm. Why, his seemed to warm her straight to the bone.
“With all the mud, I thought you were wearing some sort of costume—Swamp Girl or Creature from the Black Lagoon or something. It’s close to Halloween and I’ve had some guests do some pretty weird things…” His brow knit in concern as he looked down at her. “Are you okay?”
Josie nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. He smelled like leather and horseflesh and hard work, with a subtle undernote of soap. The scent was rich and male— far more appealing than all of Robert’s expensive colognes and grooming products, she thought distractedly. Her gaze again fell to his lips.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was upset because you nearly got yourself killed,” he explained. “That stallion’s got a mean streak a mile wide. In fact, I’m trying to sell him for just that reason. A potential buyer is coming to look at him in the morning, so I was grooming him when you walked in.” His hand moved back to her shoulder. His eyes were kind and worried. “I go ballistic when guests put themselves in danger. Sorry I overreacted, Josie.”
The frank, open apology took her by surprise. There weren’t many men who would own up to a mistake so readily, she thought.
But it was the way he’d said her name that really jolted her. His deep rumble of a voice had wrapped around it like a velvet cloak, making it sound appealing and feminine and…sensuous.
What the heck was the matter with her? Her pulse was racing and skittering, and her thoughts were flying off in all kinds of dangerous and inappropriate directions. She must have taken leave of her senses, responding this way to some man she’d just met.
She must be more overwrought than she’d realized. Maybe she was even suffering some type of post-traumatic syndrome. After all, it had been a nerve-wracking day. This behavior was so far out of character she could barely recognize it as her own.
Josie folded her arms protectively across her chest. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said. “If you’ll help me get to the lodge, I won’t mention anything to Mr. O’Dell.”
The man dropped his hands from her shoulders, but the heat from his touch remained. He gave a lopsided grin. “Too late.”
Was he deliberately keeping her off balance? “What do you mean?”
Folding one arm across his flat stomach and the other behind his back, he made a courtly bow. “Luke O’Dell at your service, ma’am.”
“But the man in the brochure photos—”
“Was my father. He died six months ago.”
“Oh!” Josie murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” A flicker of pain crossed his face. He diverted his gaze to the toes of his cowboy boots, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “Look, Josie, I know guests are told payment is nonrefundable without a week’s notice, but under the circumstances I’ll be happy to give you your money back.”
“Oh, I don’t want my money back. After all I’ve been through, I really need a week’s vacation.”
Luke gazed at the mud-stained creature before him and tried to suppress his dismay. The last thing he needed right now was a half-crazy, lovelorn woman moping around the ranch. She’d probably require extra attention, and the lodge staff was overextended as it was.
He shook his head dubiously. “It would probably be better if you come back some other time. All of our guests this week are couples, and I don’t want you to spend the week feeling like a third wheel.”
“But I won’t be participating in the group activities. I’m registered for the honeymoon package.”
She wasn’t half-crazy; she was full-blown loco! Luke stared at her incredulously. “You want to do the honeymoon package activities alone?”
“That’s right.”
“You want to go on a moonlight trail ride, a private cookout, an overnight canoe trip…by yourself?”
Her chin moved ever so slightly upward. When she spoke, her voice had a defensive edge. “That’s right.”
Oh, boy. What was she—some kind of emotional masochist? It sounded like she’d come here to wallow in her misery. If so, she’d no doubt make the whole ranch miserable in the bargain.
He rubbed his jaw, trying to think of a way to dissuade her, then glanced down and realized a huge puddle was forming beneath her on the barn floor. She was soaking wet and probably freezing; there was no point in trying to reason with her while she was in this condition. He had no choice but to put her up for the night. Hopefully she’d change her mind tomorrow.
Luke pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened. “Look, I’ll tell you what—you can sleep on it and we’ll see how you feel about things in the morning. The refund offer will still stand. In the meantime, I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of your wet clothes.”
She nodded, and the motion made the veil flop in her face again. He reached out and pushed it back, arranging the whole thing behind her shoulders.
“I’ll take you to your cabin. My pickup is just outside.” He motioned toward the door.
She turned in the direction he indicated, but the bottom of her dress didn’t turn with her. She stooped to unwind it from around her ankles and stumbled.
Luke’s hand shot out and caught her around the waist. He felt as though he’d just grabbed ahold of a live electrical wire. Her skin felt warm and supple and sexy as sin beneath the thin, wet fabric, and touching it sent shock waves pulsing up his arm.
Attraction, strong and unexpected, surged through him. He hadn’t felt anything this good in a long, long time. He swallowed hard. “Do you need some help with that thing?” he asked.
She looked up and nodded, and his fingers tightened involuntarily around her waist. Touching her like this made him notice things about her that had previously escaped his attention. How could he have failed to notice before now that her eyes were the exact color of a field of bluebonnets, or that she had an adorable upturned nose dusted with a faint sprinkling of freckles?
Giving himself a mental shake, he cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. “What can I do?”
“Could you please lift up my skirt?”
The request conjured up an image that made Luke break into a sweat. His eyes skimmed over her, overlooking the mud and noting instead how the wet silk clung to her curves, outlining her high, round breasts and narrow waist. Holy mackerel; how could he have missed all this before now? That veil had been hiding more than he’d realized.
He couldn’t repress a wolfish grin. “Well, now…there’s a request I don’t hear every day.”
He liked the way she blushed, and he loved the way her smile lit up her face like a switched-on lightbulb. It had the same effect on him, making him feel unaccountably turned on.
“This thing must weigh a ton,” she explained, plucking at her sodden skirt. “And it’s wound so tightly around my feet I can’t bend down without falling over.”
Reluctantly he relinquished his hold on her and untangled the dress. “It’s heavy, all right.” He draped the train over the arm she held out to him. “I’ve got full-grown heifers that weigh less.”
Her laugh was soft and warm. A dimple flashed in her right cheek, and he found himself searching for another witty remark so he could see it again.
He’d be better off searching for a way to get her off the ranch, he warned himself. The lodge manager had walked off the job last month, and he had his hands full trying to run both the ranch and the lodge at the same time. The last thing he needed right now was an added distraction.
Especially a distraction exhibiting as many red flags as Josie. For starters, she was sure to be an emotional mess. He’d vowed he’d never get involved with another woman recovering from a recently broken romance, and it didn’t get any more recent than this. Tonight was supposed to be her wedding night, for Pete’s sake.
Besides, he had no intention of falling for a city slicker again. Next time around he was determined to find a good, solid, practical woman who’d been born and bred in the country and knew exactly what ranch life was like.
He was out of his mind to even be noticing things like the way her top lip had two luscious peaks that exactly mimicked the curves on her chest, and…
He abruptly realized he was staring. With an effort he forced his eyes away. He needed to stop thinking about her. She was clearly off-limits.
But the fact did nothing to stop another rush of electricity from charging through him when he took her arm. “I’ll help you to the truck, since you seem to have a hard time getting around in that thing.”
Her heart-shaped face grew worried. “I’ll get mud all over your seat.”
It was a practical consideration, and he was grateful she’d thought of it. He’d been too preoccupied gawking at her to think of it himself. “I have a tarp in the back. Wait here and I’ll throw it over the upholstery, then I’ll come back and get you.”
“I’ll need my luggage. It’s in the back seat of my car.”
He hadn’t thought of that, either. It was as if his mind had taken a vacation south. South of his belt buckle, that was. “I’ll get you settled in the truck, then I’ll go get it.”
He rapidly ducked outdoors, grateful for the excuse to get some fresh air and clear his head.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Too bad, he thought as he sloshed through the soggy leaves on the way to his pickup.
Because he sure could have used a cold shower.
Chapter Two
“How did you hear about the Lazy O?” Luke asked as he steered the pickup along the narrow gravel road that led from the barn to the lodge.
“My travel agent gave me a brochure,” Josie replied, gripping the seat as the truck bounced over the rough terrain. “Everything sounds wonderful!”
That was the problem with that blasted brochure, Luke thought glumly; his father had gone overboard on the descriptions, painting everything in glowing terms and flowery, romantic language.
Especially the honeymoon cabin, Luke thought as he braked the pickup to a jerky stop in front of it. He’d bet his best bull she’d be disappointed to discover it was nothing more than a ramshackle old log cabin fronted by a long, covered porch.
“Here we are,” Luke said, glancing over at Josie and bracing himself for a string of complaints.
She peered through the truck’s rain-streaked window. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” She looked up and flashed that dimple at him before turning back to the view. “So rustic and secluded. Just like the brochure describes.”
Stifling his surprise, Luke followed her gaze. He’d always thought the cabin was great, too, but it wasn’t everyone’s reaction. Nestled amid a backdrop of oaks and pines and illuminated by a lantern-shaped light shining on the porch, it looked like it belonged in another century.
“My father built it years ago as a guest house,” Luke explained. “He designed it after a cabin in the Rockies where he honeymooned with my mother. The main lodge is behind it, just past those trees.”
“You wouldn’t know there was anything around for miles.”
“In the good old days, there wasn’t.”
Josie couldn’t miss the tension in his voice. “You sound like you don’t much like the lodge.”
Luke’s shoulders tightened. How had they gotten off on this topic, anyway? He shrugged in a show of casualness. “I’m a rancher, not an innkeeper. Turning the Lazy O into a dude ranch was my father’s idea.”
He switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, wanting to forestall any more questions. “Stay put. I’ll come around and help you down so you don’t get tangled up in that dress again.”
She took his hands and stepped down, lurching against him as her feet hit the ground. He inhaled sharply at the contact of her soft breasts against his chest and caught a heady whiff of her scent—something soft and subtle, like baby powder and fresh flowers, mingled with a deep, earthy aroma that seemed somehow familiar.
Mud—that was what smelled familiar. And she was probably smearing it all over him. Boy, was he ever a sorry sack of hormones, getting all muddle headed and romantic over the scent of mud!
Scrunching his forehead into a frown, he pulled away.
The sudden motion made her lurch again. “Sorry,” she murmured. “This darn gown…”
Without thinking, he bent and swooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.
Her arm involuntarily flew around his neck. Her face was inches from his, her eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing?”
Good question. He was as shocked to find her in his arms as she was to be there.
There was that scent again. Jiminy—he didn’t care if it was partly mud, it still smelled downright delicious. She felt that way, too. Even in her sodden gown she was no heavier than a newborn colt, but the wet silk made her as slippery as a greased pig.
He bounced her slightly in the air as he adjusted his grip, searching his mind for a way to explain his purely reflexive action. “That blasted dress is a hazard,” he muttered. “My insurance company would cancel my liability coverage if they knew we had guests running around outfitted like that.”
Carrying her as easily as he’d tote a bale of hay, he strode rapidly to the covered porch and set her down outside the door. No way was he going to carry her across the threshold; he was having a hard enough time keeping his thoughts about her under control without acting like a surrogate bridegroom.
The imprint of her warm, wet body burned against him long after he released her, and he had a physical reaction to it. Jeezem Pete, he responded like a teenage boy every time he touched her.
So stop touching her, O’Dell, he chided himself sarcastically.
He fumbled in his pocket for a master key, then unlocked the door. It swung open. He reached in and flipped on a light. “Here you are. I’ll get your bags.”
She was still standing on the porch when he returned from the truck. He plopped the bags down by the door and eyed her warily. “You ought to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower before you catch pneumonia.” The last thing he wanted was to have her laid up convalescing, needing to be waited on hand and foot.
“I don’t want to track mud inside. I think I should take off the dress out here.”
The thought did strange things to his pulse rate. He cleared his throat and turned to go. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Wait!”
Now what? He swiveled around.
“I
…I can’t undo the buttons myself.”
She turned and pointed over her shoulder. A long row of tiny buttons ran from the neck of the gown to below her waist—dozens of buttons, each about the size of a raisin, each fastened with tiny loops of thread.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”
“I’m sorry to be such a bother.” Her voice had a suspicious warble in it.
Oh, criminy; she wasn’t going to cry again, was she?
“I realize it’s beyond the call of duty, but I’m freezing, and…”
“I’ll call the housekeeper to help you.”
He strode into the cabin, picked up the phone and punched out Consuela’s number. No answer. No answer in the lodge kitchen, either.
Great, just great. He’d have to deal with this himself.
The screen door banged behind him as he rejoined Josie on the porch. “Turn around and stand still.” The words came out more harshly than he’d intended.
She presented her slender back to him. He stepped forward, pushed her veil out of the way and tackled the top button. It sat at the nape of her neck, covered by damp tendrils of shoulder-length dark hair. He brushed the wet strands aside, his fingers feeling huge and awkward, and tried to ignore the rush of arousal that tightened his body.
The woman was wreaking havoc with his libido. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be her wedding night— a night when her skin was supposed to be touched, her lips were meant to be tasted, those enticing curves were to be explored and caressed…
By another man, O’Dell. For heaven’s sake, get a grip.
His fingers fumbled, and the button tore off in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving on to the next one.
It had evidently been too long since he’d been around a woman. He hadn’t dated much since his divorce, and that had been five years ago. Judging from the way he was reacting now, it was time he got back in the saddle and started socializing again.
The button popped free. His fingers edged down to attack the next one. Josie shifted and sighed, and he struggled to rein in his thoughts.