A Risky Affair

by Maureen Smith

  “I know what you mean.” After another moment, Dane swung down nimbly from his horse and came around to her side. Without thinking, Solange accepted his proffered hand and allowed him to help her dismount, though she’d done it without assistance a thousand times before.

  Too late, she realized what a colossal mistake she’d made, as she found her body being dragged along the warm, solid length of Dane’s before he set her down. Although the contact lasted no more than a few seconds, her body reacted as if he’d pinned her, naked, to the ground. Heat sizzled through her veins, stinging her nipples and turning her knees to gelatin.

  Startled, her eyes flew to his face, only to find his dark, heavy-lidded gaze on her mouth. Her breath snagged sharply in her throat. The air between them quivered with sexual awareness. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only lean weakly against him with her hands braced upon the hard, muscled pad of his biceps. And then he shifted ever so slightly, bending a little so that her hands slowly slid up his chest and came to rest on the broad expanse of his shoulders. A tiny shiver of pleasure worked its way down her spine. Her lashes lowered, her eyes riveting on the lush, sensuous curve of his bottom lip.

  “Solange—”

  The ragged need in his deep, husky voice finally snapped her out of her trance. Hastily she dropped her arms and took a step backward, trembling from a heady combination of fear and arousal.

  “Thanks for, uh, helping me down,” she managed hoarsely.

  Dane hesitated, staring at her a moment longer before nodding once. “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.

  Solange wiped her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans and walked away on unsteady legs, needing to put as much distance between them as possible. She didn’t even want to think about what had just happened—or not happened—a moment ago. It was too unsettling to contemplate.

  Lowering herself onto the thick blanket of grass, she drew her knees up to her chin and watched out of the corner of her eye as Dane murmured quietly to the horses and rubbed their silky necks. His preoccupation with the animals bought her time to bring her galloping pulse under control, so that by the time he sauntered over and dropped to the ground beside her, she felt immeasurably calmer. So they were attracted to each other. That didn’t mean they had to sleep together, she reasoned, nor did they have to tiptoe around each other like a couple of skittish mares. They were both mature, sensible adults. Surely they could enjoy the simple pleasure of a morning horseback ride without ripping each other’s clothes off.

  Dane stretched out along the grass, clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, his black lashes sweeping down to rest upon his cheekbones. He looked like a dark warrior taking a break from battle to catch a power nap.

  Swallowing hard, Solange said softly, “You’re good with them. The horses, I mean. And you ride like a natural.”

  Dane lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “I’m a fast learner.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you’ve gone riding more often than you let on.”

  One dark eye cocked open to look at her. “Are you calling me a liar, woman?”

  Solange laughed, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t dare! Not only do you outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds, but any man who puts his body on the line to help raise money for breast-cancer research must be the epitome of goodness and honesty.”

  A slow, lazy grin curved his mouth as he looked up at her from beneath his lashes. “Just trying to do my part.”

  She smiled back at him. “Well, I guess I’ll do my part and support the cause by buying a calendar.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not?” she asked in surprise.

  “You don’t want a calendar filled with half-naked men on your wall.”

  She sputtered, “How do you know what I want?”

  “Because I do. Besides,” he added, subtle challenge glinting in his eyes, “I don’t think your boyfriend would appreciate it too much. I know I wouldn’t, if you were mine.”

  The teasing smile on Solange’s lips died like a flame that had been suddenly doused. The words if you were mine echoed through her mind, filling her with an emotion she didn’t want to identify.

  Looking away, she cleared her throat. “I’ll buy the calendar and mail it to my best friend in Haskell.”

  “Atta, girl,” Dane said softly.

  As silence lapsed between them, Solange let her gaze wander to where the horses stood contentedly side by side, their heads hanging down as they nipped at each other in idle play. If only human relationships could be so simple, so pure and unspoiled, she thought with an inward sigh.

  She glanced away from the horses to find Dane watching her with a quiet, thoughtful expression. “So you left behind a boyfriend and best friend,” he murmured. “Got any other family members living in Haskell?”

  Solange shook her head, plucking at a long blade of grass. “My grandparents on both sides passed away a long time ago, and my parents were never very close to any of their remaining relatives, most of whom are scattered around the country. Only a few showed up for the funeral. Once it was over, they hopped back on the next plane and left town without so much as a backward glance.” Her lips curved ruefully. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound bitter.”

  “You didn’t,” Dane said gently. “And even if you did, no one could blame you.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “In their defense, it’s not as if they left behind an underage child to fend for herself. I’m a grown woman, perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If I had been a minor, I’m sure one of my relatives would have offered to take me in.” She paused, adding with a touch of cynicism, “Especially if I came with a large inheritance.”

  “But you didn’t,” Dane surmised.

  She shook her head sadly. “My parents worked their butts off to hold on to the farm, but one bad crop season could set them back financially several years. When they died and the farm burned down, I had to sell the land back to the county and use most of the proceeds to settle their debts. I can assure you,” she said with a wry grin, “a wealthy heiress I am not.”

  Dane chuckled softly. “That’s all right. I’ve always gotten along better with poor people, anyway.”

  Solange laughed, punching him playfully on the arm. “Wise guy.”

  Grinning, he crossed his big, booted feet at the ankles, the movement drawing her attention as she leaned back on her elbows. “Just what shoe size do you wear, anyway?” she teasingly inquired.

  He glanced down. “Sixteen.”

  “Hmm. I suspected as much.” And you know what they say about men with big feet.

  When she heard the low, sexy rumble of his laughter, she realized she’d voiced the naughty thought aloud. An embarrassed flush stole across her cheeks as Dane drawled, “Why, Miss Washington, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were sexually harassing me.”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation, fighting the tug of a grin. “In your dreams, Roarke.”

  “Mmm. Or maybe in yours.”

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t too far off the mark. For the past ten minutes, she’d been struggling not to stare at the way the stretchy fabric of his turtleneck clung to the hard, sinewy muscles of his torso. More than once, she’d found herself willing his shirt to inch up so she could catch another glimpse of his beautifully sculpted bare chest, the sight of which was permanently branded on her memory.

  “Do you have any plans for the holidays?” she blurted, eager to change the subject before her imagination began to wander into dangerous territory. “Will you be spending Christmas in San Antonio or Houston?”

  “Houston, probably. With my parents and my brother and his family. My mom always prepares a big, lavish meal and buys everyone a ton of gifts. She loves to play Santa.”

  “That sounds nice,” Solange murmured with a soft, poignant smile. “My mother used to do the same thing. No matter how tough things were, she always went out of her way to make Christmas extra special.”

>   Dane turned his head to look at her with an expression of gentle sympathy. “I’m sorry about what happened to your folks,” he said in a low voice.

  “Me, too.” She gazed up at the soft white clouds drifting lazily across the sky. “But I know they’re watching over me, protecting me in their own way.”

  “I bet they are,” Dane quietly agreed, and Solange could tell he wasn’t merely offering an empty platitude, as people often did when consoling the grief-stricken; he really meant what he said. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

  A companionable silence fell between them, broken only by the piercing cry of an eagle that soared high above them. For the second time in two days, Solange felt an incredible sense of peace and contentment wash over her. The sun was warm on her face, the thick grass a soft bed beneath her. Dane lay close to her, so close she could smell him—soap and an intoxicating scent that was uniquely male, uniquely him. She could feel his heat and vitality, as potent as a physical touch. If she could have lain there forever, with him beside her, she would have.

  Shaken by the thought, she sat up abruptly. “I guess we’d better start heading back before they think we’ve been eaten by a mountain lion.”

  Dane chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made her belly quiver. “I think you’re the only one Crandall would mourn.”

  Solange laughed. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Something tells me he’d hire a new personal assistant within the week.”

  Dane grinned as they rose together. “Don’t sell yourself so short, Angel Eyes. I’d give him at least two weeks to replace you.”

  Solange smiled distractedly, her insides warming at the endearment that had slipped so naturally from his mouth. Angel Eyes. He thought she had the eyes of an angel. God help her.

  As they started back toward the waiting horses, she suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute. This view reminds me of something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  As Dane eyed her curiously, she ran toward the edge of the cliff, but not too close, and proceeded to spin around in circles while belting out the lyrics to “The Sound of Music.”

  Dane threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  As Solange completed her last twirl, her ponytail came loose, sending her hair flying about her face and shoulders. Laughing, she bent to retrieve her scrunchie from the ground as Dane approached, smiling and clapping softly.

  “Bravo. That was quite a performance,” he drawled. “I think Julie Andrews would have been impressed.”

  Solange blew her long bangs out of her eyes and grinned up at him, breathless with exhilaration. “Really? You think so?”

  “Most definitely. I know I was.” His dark, heavy-lidded eyes roamed across her face, glittering with frank male appreciation and something else, something that made her heart skip several precious beats.

  He shook his head slowly. “God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered huskily.

  Instantly the air around them grew hotter, thicker. Gazing up at him, Solange felt as if she were teetering precariously at the mouth of the cliff, poised to be pushed over the edge in a dizzying free fall from which she would never return.

  Her lips parted, trembling, but no sound came forth.

  Then, before she could react, Dane captured the nape of her neck with his fingers and slanted his head over hers. His mouth descended and seized hers with a raw urgency that ignited her blood.

  Even as her mind shouted in protest, she gave herself up to the kiss, feeling the sweet, hard pressure of his lips upon hers, opening her mouth at the insistence of his hot, probing tongue as it slipped between her teeth to touch her, taste her. She shivered, a soft moan escaping as she curved her arms around his neck. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, his other hand banding around her waist to draw her against the hard length of his body. She was drowning, drowning in sensation and a fierce need that was unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

  Without breaking the kiss they sank to their knees. Desperate for the feel of hot male flesh, Solange tugged his shirt from his waistband and reached beneath the turtleneck to splay her hands across his bare, muscular chest. He shuddered, tightening his hold on the back of her head as he ravaged her mouth like a starving man.

  With his free hand, he cupped her left breast, and she gasped. Through the cotton fabric of her peasant blouse and lace bra, he sensuously traced the outline of her nipple with his thumb. Her breast swelled, her nipple beading like a pearl beneath his touch. His erection pressed against her belly, thick and impossibly hard. Mindlessly she ground herself against him, the sensitive flesh between her legs throbbing with need, aching for fulfillment only he could provide.

  He eased one side of her blouse off her shoulder and kissed the soft, sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. Solange trembled hard, her head falling back on a soundless cry. Dane took full advantage of the exposed arch of her throat, his mouth homing in to suckle her hungrily. She locked her arms around his broad back and clung to him for dear life.

  “I want you so damn bad,” he uttered raggedly, sinking both hands into her hair as he rained hot kisses along her throat. “I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

  Through the fog bank of desire clouding her brain, his words—and the stunning reality of that moment—registered. Solange stiffened against him, her eyes flying open as sanity returned, along with a healthy dose of alarm.

  Oh, God, what had she done?

  Or, better yet, what had she almost done?

  Shaken to the core, she quickly pulled away from Dane, making him groan softly in protest. Struggling to catch her breath, she watched as his lashes slowly lifted to reveal the smoldering heat in his midnight eyes. His nostrils were slightly flared, his sensuous bottom lip slick and shining. He looked a little wild and dangerous, and so damn sexy it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to launch herself back into his arms.

  “Th-that was a mistake,” she whispered shakily.

  “Right,” Dane murmured, a trace of mockery in the curve of his mouth. “Because you have a boyfriend. What was his name again?”

  “Lamar,” Solange supplied without thinking.

  Dane inclined his head in the barest hint of a nod, his eyes narrowed on hers. “Lamar’s a very lucky man.”

  Solange made no reply to that. Instead she climbed to her feet and busied herself with brushing dirt and grass from her knees. “It’s late,” she said without looking at him. “I’m ready to go back.”

  “Of course,” Dane said softly.

  But as they mounted their horses and started down the mountain trail, one unsettling thought kept echoing through her mind.

  There is no going back.

  Chapter 12

  It took the entire ride back to the ranch house to cool Dane’s raging libido.

  Every time he relived kissing Solange, touching her and having her warm, lush body pressed against his own, he grew hard—painfully hard. He had to force himself to think about other, less stimulating things, like the remaining Christmas gifts he needed to buy, or how he was going to handle a particular surveillance assignment that week.

  When they reached the barn, Solange swung down quickly from her horse, refusing the assistance of the young stable hand who had emerged from cleaning out a stall to meet them. The dark-haired Hispanic boy smiled at Solange, his teeth flashing white in his ruddy face.

  “Did you enjoy your ride, señorita?” he eagerly inquired, wiping his soiled hands on a cloth rag.

  “Yes, thank you, Tomas,” Solange said with a quiet smile. She passed him the reins, then stroked a hand down the sorrel’s silky neck and leaned close to murmur something that made the animal’s long ear twitch in response. Solange winked at Tomas, who blushed like an infatuated puppy. Then, barely sparing a glance at Dane as he dismounted from his horse, she turned and started up the hill toward the main house.

  Dane and Tomas watched her departing form in shared admiration—the long, shapely legs covered in sn
ug denim; the way her thick, shoulder-length hair swung from side to side as she walked, her hips rolling in an easy swagger that was purely feminine and maddeningly sexy.

  After another moment, Tomas turned to him with a worried frown. “What did you do to Señorita Washington?”

  “Not as much as I wanted to,” Dane muttered under his breath. At the confused look the boy gave him, he chuckled softly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about her, my friend. Women can be unpredictable creatures at times, as you’ll see for yourself someday.”

  Tomas grinned, looking even younger than fifteen. “You sound like my father. He says the same thing.”

  “You should listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about.” Dane reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair playfully. “By the way, Tomas, how do you like working on the ranch?”

  Tomas beamed. “I love it! It’s the best job I’ve ever had.” He paused for a moment, his dark brows furrowing together thoughtfully. “Well…I guess it’s the only job I’ve ever had. But you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. And I’m glad to hear it. But you look like you could use some help down here,” Dane observed, leading his horse into the large stable. Inside the old building, the pungent odors of leather and oil, manure and dry straw, horses and cobwebs permeated the air. As he passed the first stall, a bay mare whinnied softly in greeting. Dane smiled and tipped his head in response.

  “I’m usually the only one here on Sunday mornings,” Tomas said, following him into the barn with the chestnut sorrel Solange had ridden in tow. “But now that Señor Thorne has decided to open the ranch to visitors for hourly horseback rides on the weekends, I guess we’ll need more help.”

  “Good, because I have a friend who might be interested. He’s about your—”

  “Roarke! Where the hell are you?”

  Halfway down the straw-covered aisle flanked by dark stalls, Dane glanced over his shoulder and met Tomas’s wide-eyed, anxious stare. “It’s Señor Thorne!” the boy whispered. “You’d better go. I’ll take care of the horses,” he rushed on when Dane hesitated, frowning.