In Bed with the Wrangler

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Why do you ask?” he prompted.

  “The ranch is making payments to them.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s just it. I can’t tell.”

  “Tools? Supplies? Insurance?”

  “Insurance, maybe.” She hadn’t thought of that. “The entries only say ‘services.’” She reached behind her for the report, and Gopher wriggled in her lap.

  “Better put him back outside,” Royce suggested.

  Amber moved to the screen door, deposited the puppy on the deck and returned to point out the entries to Royce.

  “I searched for the company on the Internet,” she offered while he glanced through the pages she’d noted. “I can’t find anything on them, not domestically, not offshore.”

  He raised a questioning brow.

  “I learned corporate research at U of C.”

  Royce’s jaw tightened, and she could feel the wheels turning inside his head.

  She dared voice the suspicion that was planted inside her brain. “Do you think McQuestin could be—”

  “No.”

  “His niece?”

  “Not a chance. Not for these amounts.”

  “McQuestin had to know, right?” The man worked with the business accounts on a daily basis. Whatever was going on with Sagittarius Eclipse, McQuestin had to be aware.

  “It’s legit,” Royce said out loud, but his spine was stiff, and he was frowning.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked. Maybe this was the tip of the iceberg. Maybe Sagittarius Eclipse would help them solve some kind of embezzlement scheme. Maybe she could even help alleviate the company’s cash flow problems.

  He reached into the breast pocket of his blue-and-gray plaid shirt, retrieving his cell phone and searching for a number. His hair was damp with sweat, face streaked with dust, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned, muscular forearms. Amber’s gaze went on a wayward tour down his body, her hormones reaching with predictability to his sex appeal.

  He pressed a button on the phone, and the ringing tone became audible through the small speaker.

  Amber pointed to the screen door. “Do you want me to—”

  Royce shook his head. “You’re the one that found it. Let’s hear what McQuestin has to say.”

  A woman’s voice bid them hello.

  “Maddy? It’s Royce.”

  “Oh, hey, Royce. He’s doing okay today. They think they got the last of the bone fragments, and the infection’s calming down.”

  “Good to hear,” said Royce. “Can I talk to him for a minute?”

  Maddy hesitated. “He’s pretty doped up. Can I help with something?”

  “It’s important,” said Royce, an apology in his voice.

  “Well. Okay.” The sounds went muffled for a few moments.

  “Yeah?” came a gravelly voice.

  “It’s Royce, Mac. How’re you feeling?”

  “Like the bronc won,” McQuestin grumbled.

  Amber couldn’t help but smile.

  “You married yet?” McQuestin’s voice was slightly slurred.

  “That was Jared,” Royce corrected.

  “Mighty pretty girl,” McQuestin mused. “Should have married her yourself.”

  “Jared might have had an objection to that.”

  “He’s too busy…Hey! Did you wash the ears?”

  Royce and Amber glanced at each other in amusement.

  “Mac,” Royce tried.

  “What now?” MacQuestin grumbled.

  “You know anything about Sagittarius Eclipse?”

  There was a silence, during which their amusement turned to concern.

  “I paid ’em,” said McQuestin, obviously angry. “What else would a man do?”

  “What exactly did you pay them for?”

  McQuestin snorted. “You tell Benteen…” Then his voice turned to a growl. “Somebody should have shot the damn dog yesterday.”

  Maddy’s voice came back. “Can this wait, Royce? You’re really upsetting him.”

  “I’m sorry, Maddy. Of course it can wait. Keep me posted, okay?”

  “Will do.” McQuestin’s voice still ebbed and flowed in the background. “Better go.”

  Royce signed off.

  “Who’s Benteen?” asked Amber.

  Royce’s voice was thoughtful, and he placed the phone back in his pocket. “My grandfather. He died earlier this year. You think you could dig a little deeper into this?”

  Amber nodded. Her curiosity was piqued. She’d like nothing better than to sleuth around Sagittarius Eclipse and figure out its relationship to the Ryder Ranch.

  Seven

  “Royce?”

  Royce’s body reacted to the sound of Amber’s voice. He hefted a hay bale onto the stack, positioning it correctly before acknowledging her presence.

  “Yeah?” He didn’t turn to look at her. It was easier for him to cope if only one of his senses was engaged with her at a time. He only hoped she’d keep her sweet scent on the far side of the barn.

  Her footsteps echoed. So much for that plan.

  “I didn’t find any more information,” she said. “I’m going to have to try again tomorrow.”

  He nodded, moving to the truckload of hay bales, keeping his gaze fixed on his objective.

  “It’s getting late,” she ventured, and there was a vulnerability in her voice that made his predicament even worse. Though he didn’t look at her now, an image of her this afternoon, in that short denim skirt, a peach tank top, her blond hair cascading softly around her bare shoulders, was stuck deep in the base of his brain. It was going to take dynamite to blast it out.

  “I know.” He gave the short answer.

  “What are you doing?”

  He grabbed the next bale, binder twine pressing against the reinforced palms of his leather work gloves. “Moving hay bales.”

  He retraced his steps. Extreme physical work was his only hope of getting any sleep tonight. If he wasn’t dead-dog exhausted, he’d do nothing but lie awake and think about Amber sleeping across the hall.

  “Is it that important?” she pressed.

  “Horses have to eat.”

  “But do you—”

  “Is there something you need?” he asked brusquely.

  Her silence echoed between them, and he felt like a heel.

  “No,” she finally answered in a soft voice. “It’s just…”

  He didn’t prompt her, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. He’d never found himself so intensely attracted to a woman, and it was physically painful to fight it.

  “I’m surprised is all,” she continued.

  He mentally rolled his eyes. Couldn’t the woman take a hint? Did she like that she was making him crazy? Was she one of those teases that got her jollies out of tempting a man then turning up her prissy little nose at his advances?

  “When you said you had to babysit the ranch—”

  How the hell long was she going to keep this up?

  “—I thought you meant in a more managerial sense. I mean, can’t somebody else move the hay?”

  He turned to look at her then. Damn it, she was still wearing that sexy outfit. Only it was worse now, because the cool evening air had hardened her nipples, and they were highlighted against the soft cotton where she stood in the pool of overhead light.

  The air whooshed right out of his lungs, and he almost dropped the bale.

  “I’d rather do it myself,” he finally ground out.

  “I see.” She held his gaze. There was something soft in the depths of her eyes, something warm and welcoming.

  At this very second, he could swear she was attracted to him. But he’d been down that road before. Down that road was a long night in a very lonely bed.

  He went back to work.

  “Royce?” Her footsteps echoed again as she moved closer.

  He heaved the bale into place, gritted his teeth and turned. “What?” he barked.

  “I’m…” She glanced at the scuffed f
loor. “Uh…sorry.”

  He swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “Not as sorry as I am.”

  She glanced up in confusion. “For what? What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Then, what do you have to be sorry about?”

  “You want to know why I’m sorry?” He’d reached the breaking point, and he was ready to give it to her with both barrels. “You really want to know why I’m sorry?”

  She gave a tentative nod.

  “I’m sorry I walked into the Ritz-Carlton lounge.”

  Her eyes widened as he stripped off his gloves.

  “And I’m sorry I brought you home with me.” He tossed the gloves on the nearest hay bale. “And I’m sorry you’re so beautiful and desirable and sexy. But mostly, mostly I’m sorry my family’s future is falling down around my ears, and all I can think of is how much I want you.”

  Their eyes locked.

  For a split second, it looked as though she smiled.

  “You think this is funny?”

  She shook her head. Then she took a step forward. “I think it’s ironic.”

  “You might not want to get too close,” he warned, drinking in the sight, sound and scent of her all in one shot, wondering how many seconds he could hold out before he dragged her into his arms.

  “Yeah?” She stepped closer still.

  “Did you not hear me?”

  She placed her flat palm against his chest. “I heard you just fine.” Her defiant blue eyes held one of the most blatant invitations he’d ever seen.

  He hoped she knew what she was doing.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t care less if she knew or not. Just so long as she didn’t back off this time.

  His arms went around her and jerked her flush against him, all but daring her to protest.

  Then he bent his head; his desire and frustration transmitted themselves into a powerful kiss. He all but devoured her mouth, reveling in the feel of her thighs, belly and breasts, all plastered against his aching flesh.

  He encircled her waist, pulling in at the small of her back, bending her backward, kissing deeper as his free hand strummed from hip to waist over her rib cage to capture the soft mound of her breast.

  She groaned against his mouth, lips parting farther, her tongue answering the impassioned thrusts of his own. Her nipple swelled under his caress, fueling his desire and obliterating everything else from his brain. He bent his knee, shifting his thigh between hers, pushing up on her short skirt, settling against the silk of her panties.

  Her hands gripped his upper arms, nails scraping erotically against his thin shirt, transmitting her passion to the nerves of his skin. He lifted her, spreading her legs, hands cupping her bottom, shoving the skirt out of the way and pressing her heat against him.

  Her arms went around his neck, legs tightening, her lips hot on his, her silky hair flowing out in all directions around her shoulders. She braced her arms on his shoulders, fingers delving into his short hair. Her kisses moved from his mouth to his cheek, his chin and his neck. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, loosening them, before dipping her head and trailing her kisses across his chest.

  He tipped back his head, drinking in the heat and moisture of her amazing lips. Then he took a few steps sideways, behind the bale stack, screening them from the rest of the cavernous room. He shrugged out of his loose shirt, dropping it on a bale before settling her on top. He braced his arms on either side of her and pulled back to look.

  Her eyes were closed, lips swollen red. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, and his gaze settled on the outline of her breasts against the peach top.

  “Royce?”

  His name on her lips tightened his chest and sent a fresh wave of desire cascading through his veins. He swiftly stripped her top off over her head, revealing two perfect breasts peeking from a lacy, white bra that dipped low in the center and barely camouflaged her dusky nipples.

  “Gorgeous,” he breathed, popping the clasp and letting the wisp of fabric fall away. “Perfection.”

  Her lash-fringed lids came up, revealing blue eyes clouded with passion.

  They stared at each other for a long suspended breath. Then he reached out, his tanned hand dark against her creamy breast. He stroked the pad of his thumb across her nipple.

  She gasped, and he smiled in pure satisfaction.

  He repeated the motion, and she grabbed for his waist, tugging him toward her. But he stood his ground, his gaze flicking to the shadow of her sheer, high-cut panties, the skirt pulled high to reveal her hips.

  He traced the line of elastic, knuckle grazing the moist silk. She moaned, head tipping back against the golden hay, her arms falling to her sides, clenching her fists tightly.

  He could feel his anticipation, his own blood singing insistently through his system, hormones revving up, his passion making demands on his brain. But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to let the roar toward completion hijack his senses.

  While his fingertips roamed, he leaned forward, taking one plump nipple into his mouth, curling his tongue around the exquisite texture.

  A deep sound burbled in Amber’s throat, and her hands went for his belt buckle, the snap of his jeans, his zipper, his boxers, and then he was in her hand, and he knew time was running out.

  He hooked his thumbs over the sides of her panties, stripping them down, letting them drop to the floor. Then his body moved unerringly to hers.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he raised his head, gazing into her eyes as he flexed his hips, easing slowly as he could to her center and into her core. Her eyes widened with every inch, she clenched her hands on his hips, and her sweet mouth fell open in a pout of awe.

  Unable to resist, he bent his head, her features blurred as he grew close. Then her mouth opened against his, and his tongue thrust in, mimicking the motions of his hips as nature took over and he let the primal rhythm throb free between them.

  He cupped her face, caressed her hair, kissed her neck, her temple, her eyelids. His hands roamed free, stroking her thighs, her bottom, her belly and breasts. Her panting breaths were music to his ears, her nails crescenting into his back transmitted her fervor.

  Then she cried his name, urging him on, playing havoc with his self-control. But she was with him, and the small tremors contracting her body catapulted him over the edge into oblivion.

  Amber blinked open her eyes.

  She was vaguely aware of hay strands tickling her bare back. But she was much more aware of Royce’s hard, hot body engulfing her own. Her lungs were struggling to get enough oxygen, and every fiber of her muscles danced with the aftershocks of lovemaking.

  Royce’s palm stroked over her hair, and he kissed her eyelids. Despite her exhaustion, her lips curled into a smile. But she was a long way from being able to speak.

  Her skirt was in a bunch around her waist, her other clothes scattered. Her hair was wild and disheveled, tangled with hay, while her lips tingled with the heat of his kisses.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Royce whispered in her ear.

  She struggled through a few more breaths. “Well, I’m definitely not sorry,” she managed, and she heard him chuckle.

  “Definitely not sorry,” he echoed.

  He eased back, taking in her appearance.

  “Bad?” she asked.

  He pulled some straw from her hair. “Telltale.”

  She raked spread fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it while he refastened his jeans.

  He bent and picked up her bra from the floor, frowned at the dirt streaks on it and tucked it into his back pocket. He located her tank top, gave her breasts one last, lingering look, then pulled her top back over her head. The peach color was blotted with dust. And Royce’s attempts to brush it off made things worse.

  “We’ll probably want to sneak you in the back way,” he joked as she tugged down her skirt. He watched her movements closely.

  She slipped hi
s wrinkled shirt from beneath her butt and held it out to him. “You’re not looking so sharp yourself, cowboy.”

  “I’ve been working hard.” As he shrugged into his shirt, his gaze strayed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and his tone went soft and intimate. “What’s your excuse?”

  “Someone stole my underwear.”

  He reached for the wisp of silk caught on the side of a bale and tucked it into his pocket with her bra.

  “That’s my only pair.”

  “Yeah?” He gave her body another long look. “Lucky me.”

  He fastened his buttons then helped her down, tucking her hand in his as they headed across the barn. “I hope you know you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

  “Only if you give my underwear back.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  He turned to gaze at her. “Talk me into it.”

  Her footsteps slowed, and so did his. With their joined hands, he reeled her in, then he smoothed her hair back once more, moving closer still, voice intimate. “You know, you are stunningly gorgeous.”

  A smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “Is that why you’re sneaking me in the back way?”

  “I’m keeping you all to myself,” he whispered, lips coming down on hers.

  The kiss nearly exploded between them. For all that they’d just made love, Amber’s arousal was strong as ever. She wrapped her arms around his neck, came up on her toes, welcomed his tongue and reveled in the feel of his warm hands as they stroked over her back, across her buttocks, down her thighs, then back up beneath her skirt.

  She pressed her body against his as the kiss went on and on. A groan slipped from her lips.

  “Again?” he asked, voice husky.

  She nodded.

  “Here or in bed.”

  “I don’t care.” She truly didn’t. Royce could make her body sing, and propriety didn’t appear to have a lot to do with it.

  He backed off slightly on the kiss and smoothed her skirt back down. “In bed.”

  “Really?”

  He grinned at the disappointment in her tone. “I want to make love to you for a very, very long time.”

  She cocked her head sideways. “And you need a bed for that?”