by Joan Hohl
“Jen,” he said. “Do you ride?”
Blinking, Jen turned, laundry basket held in front of her. “What?”
“I asked if you ride,” he said. “Horses.”
“Oh, yes. Why?” She noticed a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m going for a ride, to give the horses a run while getting some fresh air. I was wondering if you’d care to join me,” he said. “Other than a few laps in the pool, we’ve both been inside all week.”
Stunned by the sudden invitation, Jen could barely speak. She simply stared at him, trying not to be affected by the snug fit of his jeans clinging to his flat belly and his tight butt, the width of his shoulders beneath a chambray shirt, the sprinkling of hair on his forearms below the turned-back sleeves. She cautioned herself against accepting his invitation.
And then she accepted.
“I’d love to go,” she said, ignoring for the moment how simply being near him affected her.
“Good.” Marsh gave a quick nod and started for the kitchen door. “Leave the laundry until later.”
“I need to change,” Jen said, glancing down at the faded, torn clam-diggers she had put on to clean. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“I’ll go saddle the horses.” He stepped outside, hesitating before closing the door to say, “Take your time, I’m in no hurry.”
As Jen headed to her apartment, her heart beating quickly from more than just the exercise of climbing the stairs, she wondered exactly what she’d just gotten herself into with Marsh Grainger.
* * *
Now, why in hell did I do that? Marsh thought, striding to the stables. Wasn’t it hard enough merely sitting across the table from Jen, watching the smooth suppleness of her body as she moved around the kitchen?
He started saddling the mare he had chosen for her. When had he become a masochist? Marsh shook his head. He hadn’t been with a woman in several months. Hell, he hadn’t been off the property in weeks, not since he’d been to Houston. And he had come home from there frustrated and dissatisfied.
Finished saddling the mare, he turned to his mount. What is it about Jen that is different from any other woman? And how many times have I asked myself that question since she moved in? Marsh mused, throwing the saddle blanket over the back of his horse. Okay, she was beautiful—traffic-stopping beautiful—but he had met many beautiful women, a lot of them deeply in love…with themselves.
On the other hand, Jen didn’t appear at all narcissistic or even impressed by her beauty. That was okay, he was impressed enough for both of them. She had a mouth made for kissing. The thought made him warm. Warm, hell, it made him hot. Mentally tamping down his sudden need, he directed his thoughts away from her lips to a more comfortable direction.
On reflection, Jen appeared down-to-earth and easygoing with a good sense of humor and an excellent work ethic, and her cooking could put most professional chefs’ offerings to shame.
But the thing that really got to him was she sang while she worked. Even though her tone was soft it had filtered under his office door a few times. The sound had the power to cause a strange sensation inside him, bringing back old memories he hadn’t thought about in years.
He was just a kid, a kid whose mother had left him wondering what he had done to make her go. His father was so desolate he barely spoke to his son.
Fortunately, Marsh had had a friend from school. His name was Ben, a good kid whose mother, Marie, invited Marsh to come to their home whenever he wanted to go. And, with the constant gloom and doom in the house, Marsh was always ready to go.
Marie had a beautiful laugh, and she laughed a lot. It was a feel-good sound that touched something in him…just like Jen’s singing.
Marsh had a startling realization. Practically everything Jen did evoked those warm sensations he had enjoyed in Ben’s home. He knew Jen would make a good wife and an excellent mother—without straining he could almost hear her crooning to a baby.
This was what he was thinking when he looked down and realized Jen was standing next to him. All he could do was hope she wasn’t a mind reader.
* * *
Jen had obviously caught Marsh deep in thought—she could tell from the faraway look on his face that he hadn’t known she was there. She’d been pretty lost in thought herself the whole time she’d been changing into jeans, a pullover cotton sweater and low-heeled ankle boots. She’d grabbed a straw cowboy hat from a hook on the wall in the laundry room, and strode out into the beautiful October day, aware that her breath was coming a trifle quickly the closer she got to the stables—or rather, to Marsh.
He hadn’t heard her come in, and for a moment, she’d just watched him standing by the horses, reins in one hand as he stroked the neck of the nearest animal with the other, an expression of deep contemplation on his face shadowed by the brim of his hat.
For an instant, Jen had wondered how it would feel to have his hand stroking her. She’d had that image in her head as she came to stand next to him. And when he turned to look at her, the expression on his face sent a sizzle up her spine, leaving her breathless.
“Ready to go?” he asked, handing a set of reins to her.
“Yes,” she said, forcing her gaze from him to the horses. “They are beautiful animals,” she murmured, moving forward to stroke the white star on the long head of her horse. She laughed as the shiny roan nuzzled her hand. “Morgan horses?”
“Yes,” he answered, offering her a smile that set off the sizzle again. “Do you need help mounting?”
Jen shook her head, certain that if he touched her, however lightly, the sizzle would consume her. “Is she gentle?” Her voice was barely there. She cleared her throat.
Marsh frowned. “Yes. Is something wrong?”
“No…no.” Feeling like a fool, she again shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Her name is Star.” He shrugged. “Applicable, if not very original.”
“I think it’s perfect.” Smiling, Jen moved to the left side of the horse, slipped her boot into the stirrup and swung her leg over into the saddle. She didn’t realize until she settled into the leather that Marsh had mounted at exactly the same time.
He glanced over at her. His steely eyes held a silvery gleam. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Jen nodded, suspicious of the meaning behind that gleam.
They moved off at a walk, which became a jog. Marsh turned to look at her. “Are you up for a good run?”
“I’d love it,” she said.
He took off.
Laughing, she was beside him within seconds. He flashed a grin, she returned it. The flat-out gallop was invigorating and ended much too soon. Marsh pulled his mount up beside a narrow stream and dismounted.
Jen did likewise, following as he led his horse to the water. “What’s your horse’s name?” she asked, looking over the sleek, dark brown gelding.
“Cocoa,” he said, his tone serious.
“You’re kidding.” She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Cocoa?”
“Isn’t that what his color looks like?” he said, “Dark, rich cocoa?”
“Yes, delicious dark chocolate, like your hair.”
The words were out before she could catch herself. She had been looking at the horse, but her eyes instinctively found his. “I…uh…”
“Yours is golden-honey and looks like silk.” His voice was low, almost a growl.
Jen was suddenly hot, an ache settling in the pit of her stomach. She stared at him in silence a moment, searching for something to say. “Th…thank…” Her throat went dry as he stepped close to her.
“You’re beautiful.” A wry smile played at the corners of his mouth. “But then you know that.” He moved to within a breath of her. “Don’t you?”
If only she could breathe. She managed to inhale. “Thank you.” Surprise, she had managed that, too. “And you’re right. I do know.” She swallowed, quickly licking her lips. It didn’t help—they dried again as his gaze foll
owed the movement of her tongue. “I’ve been hearing it from the day I was born.” He was standing too close, much too close. “But no one has said it quite like you.”
“I want to kiss you.”
“Wh…what?” Her chest felt tight. Her heart was thumping. The ache in her stomach swirled down to the core of her body. “Why?” Dumb, Jen, she thought.
“I want to taste you.” His breath misted her lips. “I want to find out if you taste like honey.”
Yes, yes, a murmur inside her head whispered as she trembled…and parted her lips.
Marsh didn’t hesitate. Lowering his head, he touched his mouth to hers with gentle care. Then he slightly, tentatively deepened the kiss as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She made a soft sound in her throat. His mouth went hard to devour hers.
Oh, he is delicious, Jen mused fuzzily, curling her arms around his taut neck and spearing her fingers through the thick strands of his silky hair.
Releasing his hold on her, he stepped back, causing her arms to drop, her fingers to slide from his hair. He stared hard at her. “You taste good.”
“You need a haircut.” It was true, but Jen could have kicked herself for saying it. Still, that was better, she felt sure, than admitting his taste outdid anything she ever could have imagined.
“You’re right.” He laughed and raked his fingers through the wavy dark strands.
Jen loved the sound of his laughter, delighted she had been the cause of it, wanting to make him do it again, especially knowing how seldom he laughed.
They stood staring at each other for several long seconds. She wanted to fling herself back into his arms, take another taste of him, this time with her tongue.
She took a hesitant step toward him. Star chose that moment to nudge her. She laughed and turned to pet the animal just as Cocoa gave a whinny.
“At the risk of sounding corny and cliché,” she said, “I think the horses are getting restless. I guess we’d better head back.”
Marsh nodded as he moved to Cocoa. “I have a few phone calls to make.”
Jen mounted, and glanced back at Marsh. Heavens, she thought, he looks magnificent on a horse.
“Who do you think enjoys it more?” He raised an eyebrow. “You or the horse?”
Jen laughed, then, clicking her tongue to get Star moving, she called back to him, “Me.”
As they galloped back to the stable, Jen could barely think of anything besides that kiss. But once they dismounted, everything went back to the status quo. Marsh handed the horses over to a man who suddenly appeared at his side, then without another word strode off to his office. Jen smiled at the man, assuming he was one of the security guards. Confused by the tumble of emotions inside her, Jen headed inside, started the laundry and went to her apartment to change before cleaning.
She undressed and put on the raggedy clam-diggers and shirt she’d had on earlier. She still planned on giving a quick brush-up to the first floor, but first, she needed a cup of coffee.
Marsh beat her to it.
When she walked into the kitchen the aroma of brewing coffee wafted to her. Marsh was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Jen knew without looking that the pot held soup.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen,” he said, “and that you like vegetable soup.” He slid a quick glance at her, his eyebrows arched.
“I don’t mind you taking care of lunch at all,” Jen replied, trying to sound as normal as possible though being close to him was making her body vibrate with the need to kiss him again. “I think I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich with my soup. Would you like one, too?”
“Sure.” He gave a shadow of a smile. “Thanks.” Marsh seemed as cool as could be. Obviously that kiss hadn’t had half the effect on him that it had had on her.
Concentrating on the job at hand, she removed the bread from the cabinet. The faint sizzle that was still running laps up and down her spine slowly began to ease as she got to work—until she couldn’t help but look over at Marsh, and found him looking right back at her with that impenetrable silver gaze.
Jen felt it all the way down to her toes.
She was in deep, deep trouble.
Four
“How many horses do you have?” Oh, how brilliant, she thought.
“Six,” he answered.
“Do…er…you take care of them yourself?” Again, brilliant, she chastised herself.
Was the slight smile he gave her holding a tinge of ridicule or was it pity?
“No,” he said. “Ted, a retired wrangler, cares for them. If you want to ride, see him. Whenever you’re free.”
“Oh, I see, thank you.”
“Any other questions of the equine variety?” he asked, that smile twitching his lips.
Of course the twitch drew her attention to his mouth, which made her suddenly warm with memories of his kiss.
She wet her lips.
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth.
She grew warmer.
“No.” Her voice was subdued.
They ate the rest of their meal in absolute silence.
“Coffee?” Marsh finally said.
“I’ll get it.” Jumping up, Jen went to fill two mugs with the steaming aromatic brew. He chuckled at her, that attractive masculine sound making her ache all over even as it annoyed her—he clearly felt he had the upper hand. She decided to throw him a curveball, just to see how he’d react.
“My mother called me last evening.”
“That’s nice.”
“Well, actually it wasn’t very pleasant,” she admitted.
“Problems on the home front?”
“Yes,” she said, eyeing him carefully. “My parents are having a problem with my living alone in this house with you.”
He laughed outright.
Jen’s insides went all soft at the sound. “You find that amusing?” Well, it was pretty funny. Her mother and father, of all people. Of course, he was unaware of that nasty situation.
“My reputation precedes me,” he said, his laughter fading. “I hope you assured her you’re safe here.”
Without pausing to think, Jen said, “Am I?”
“I assume you’re referring to that kiss earlier.” His tone was dry.
“Yes,” she answered, meeting his steady gaze with a challenging stare.
“There was a reason for it,” he said, suddenly all business.
“What reason?” Jen couldn’t imagine what he was referring to.
“It was a test.” His silvery gaze held her in confused thrall.
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I want a child, an heir—better yet two.”
He spoke so calmly, Jen was stumped for a moment. When his meaning sunk in, she actually yelped. “What?”
“Oh, don’t be alarmed, you passed.”
“What do you mean, I passed?”
“The kiss test,” he said. “You passed with flying colors.”
“I still don’t get it. What is a ‘kiss test,’ and what does it have to do with heirs?”
“I’ve decided you’d make not only a good lover but a good wife and mother,” he explained casually. “Of course there’s more to good sex than a great kiss.”
Jen was flabbergasted. Her throat had gone so dry she had to pause to swallow. “Are you proposing to me…or propositioning me?”
He gave her a wicked smile, his silver eyes shimmering. “Both.”
Jen glanced around the room as if seeking help. Finding none, she picked up her mug, unsure whether she wanted to drink from it or throw it at him. “This is insane.”
“What’s insane about wanting a child?” He stood, and came to lean against her side of the table. He was close—too close.
Jen had to raise her head to look at him. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s your way of going about it that’s strange. Now back up.”
“What?” He frowned.
“I said back up.” Jen’s tone was more order than
request. “I want to stand up.” He obliged, and she stood and turned but he caught her arm, bringing her to a halt.
“I’d much rather we go upstairs and test our physical compatibility.”
Jen stared at him a moment as she would a being from another planet, torn between wanting to shut him down—and wanting to go upstairs with him so she could have his mouth on hers again. Finally she asked, “Are you nuts?”
Rather than the anger she expected, Marsh treated her to his insides-melting laugh.
“I like you,” he said. “You’re as prickly as I am. I believe we could make a go of it.”
“Of what? A marriage of convenience?” Jen somehow managed to keep her voice calm.
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Whose?”
“What do you mean, whose?” He appeared perplexed.
“My convenience…or yours?” She lost the battle for control of her voice. “Are you looking for a ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ kind of arrangement?” She gave a quick, firm shake of her head. “No, thank you.”
She pulled her arm from his to walk away. He grabbed her again.
“Damn you, let me go.” She yanked her arm only to almost fall as he released her at the same instant. Reacting at once, he caught and steadied her.
“I’m sorry, was I hurting you?” His expression held genuine concern.
Jen drew a deep breath before answering. “No, but you’re ticking me off big-time.” She took another quick breath. “Now, like it or not, I am going to do some work.” She glared at him. “Got that?”
She could tell he held back another laugh. “Yes, I think I’ve got that.”
“Good.” She studied him for a second. Damn, why did those lips, that mouth, those hands make her so crazy? And why did those very attributes tempt her to agree to his outrageous suggestion? “Please,” she said, cringing at the near plea in her voice, “go somewhere, anywhere but here. I don’t need an audience to clean.”
With that, she strode to the laundry room, dumped the first load of wash from the washer into the dryer and got her cleaning supplies from the storage closet. A combined sigh of relief and regret whispered through her lips as she walked back into the kitchen to find he wasn’t there.