by Donna Alward
“I’ve got it.” She snagged the mitts from his hand, moved to the oven and removed the aluminum foil from a casserole dish. “Not yet. The roast needs a few more minutes.”
“Sure smells good,” he said, making small talk since his grandmother wasn’t around to fill in the silent gaps.
“Thanks.” She adjusted the oven and reset the timer. “I hope you like it.”
“If it tastes half as good as I think it will, you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
She grabbed a serving spoon from the ceramic canister on the counter and turned to him. Her smile sparked a desire in him that raced through his body like wildfire, obliterating his best intentions.
The tip of her pink tongue swiped over her full bottom lip. “I experimented with it. You might be taking your life in your hands by trying it.”
“Where’s the fun if you don’t take a risk now and then?” His gaze never wavered from her mouth. “Have I thanked you properly for all you’ve done?”
“No, you haven’t.” Her eyes grew round and sparkled with devilry. “What did you have in mind?”
He stepped up to her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Any lingering common sense went up in smoke. With a slight tug, she swayed against him. Her hands splayed across his chest. Could she feel the pounding of his heart? Was hers pounding just as hard?
Her voluptuous curves pressed against him and all he could think about was kissing her...holding her...having her. His gaze met hers. The want...the need...it was written in her smoldering eyes. Was this the way she’d stared at Harold?
Cash froze. His chest tightened. The thought hit him like a bucket of icy water. The last thing he wanted to think about was old what’s-his-name. And he certainly didn’t want to think about him or anyone else kissing Meg.
The brush of her fingertip along his jaw reheated his blood. Dismissing the unwanted thoughts, he gazed back at Meg. Before he could make his move she stood up on her tiptoes and leaned into him. Was this truly happening? Was she going to kiss him? Or had he let his daydreams run amok?
Her breath tickled his neck and her citrusy scent wrapped around him. This was certainly no dream. And if by chance it was he didn’t want it to end. Meg fit perfectly in his arms, like she’d been made for him.
With her pressed flush against him he was helpless to hide his most primal response to her. Her mouth hovered within an inch of his, but she stopped. Had she changed her mind?
When she didn’t pull away he dipped his head. His lips brushed tentatively across hers. He longed for a deeper, more intense sampling, but he couldn’t rush her. This moment had to be right for both of them. He’d never wanted someone so much.
A slight whimper met his ears. He hoped it’d come from her, but at this point he couldn’t be sure. He took the fact she was still in his arms as an invitation. Their lips pressed together once again and there was no doubt in her kiss. She wanted him too. His hold on her waist tightened until no air existed between their bodies.
She tasted sweet like sun-warmed tea. He didn’t want to stop drinking in her sugary goodness. Their kiss grew in intensity. His fingers worked their way beneath her top. Her skin was heated and satiny smooth. He wanted to explore every inch of her. Here. Now.
He’d never met anyone like Meg—a woman who could drive him to distraction with a mere look or the hypnotic sway of her luscious curves. Yet in the next moment she could make him want to pull his hair out with her fierce determinedness.
Now, as her hips ground into his, he wanted nothing more than to shed the thin layer of clothing separating them and make love to her right there in the kitchen. What would she say? Dared he try?
His fingers slid up her sides until his fingertips brushed over her lacy bra. He’d slipped his hands around to her back, anxious to find the hook, when an intrusive beeping sound halted his delicious plan.
“The food!” Meg pushed him away and rushed over to the oven. “I can’t let it burn.”
If anything was burning it was him. His body was on fire for her and his chance of being put out of his misery had slipped right through his fingers.
He strode across the room, stopping by the window—as far as he could get from Meg without walking out on her. His clenched hands pressed down on the windowsill. His gaze zeroed in on the acres of green pasture. But it was the memory of Meg’s ravaged lips and the unbridled passion in her eyes that held his attention. He raked his fingers through his hair. What was he doing? He hadn’t been thinking. He’d merely acted on impulse.
As he cooled off he realized that for the first time in his life he’d let his desires overrule his common sense. Meg had teased him with those short-shorts and tempting lips, and he’d forgotten that she was a runaway bride, hiding out here while she pieced her life back together. The mere thought of how he’d lost control shook him to the core.
Thankfully they’d been literally saved by the bell. Otherwise she still might be in his arms, and things most certainly would have moved beyond first base. He expelled a long, frustrated sigh. He’d really screwed up. How in the world were they supposed to forget that soul-searing kiss and act like housemates now?
CHAPTER NINE
MEGHAN FLOPPED ABOUT her bed most of the night. She couldn’t wipe that stirring kiss from her memory, but it was Cash’s reaction—or rather his lack of a reaction—since then that ate at her. Life had merely returned to the status quo.
She rose long before the sun and hustled through her morning routine. With her energy back and her stomach settled, Meghan couldn’t stand the thought of spending another day cooped up in the house. Besides, Cash made her job easy since he had a habit of picking up after himself. She appreciated the fact he didn’t take advantage of her being the housekeeper. He was such a gentleman.
He’d certainly make some woman a fine husband—if only they could lasso him. A frown pulled at her lips. The thought of another woman in his arms left her quite unsettled.
Still, with his stirring kisses it was only a matter of time before someone took him permanently off the market. She’d certainly never experienced such passion in a kiss before. Not even close. So what was different? What was it about Cash that made her insides do gymnastics? Or was it simply that the grass was greener on the other side of the fence?
She tried to recall her first dates with Harold. They were hazy and hard to remember. Not a stellar commentary on the man she’d almost married and the father of her unborn baby.
The harder she thought about it, the more certain she was that Harold had never once excited her with just a look. He’d never watched her with such rapt interest. They had simply started as good friends with parallel goals. Somewhere along the way they’d gotten caught in a dream of being the perfect power couple.
But, even though Cash’s kiss had touched her in a way no other kiss ever had, she had to put it out of her mind. With no firm plans in place to return to her life, she needed to make sure things were all right between her and the sexy cowboy.
The allure of the stables and the horses called to her. Heck, she could work a shovel and wheelbarrow with the best of them. She’d used to help her mother every spring by turning the soil in the vegetable garden—a garden which had expanded each year. How different could it be cleaning up after horses? What she didn’t know, she’d learn.
Dressed in blue jeans and the borrowed boots, she trudged to the barn, ready for work. She glanced around the corral but didn’t spot Cash. The doors were open on the stables, as they had been since she’d arrived here. Shadows danced in the building as a gentle breeze carried with it the combination of horses, hay and wood. The rustic scents reminded her of a certain cowboy and a smile pulled at her lips.
Cash stepped out of a stall leading a golden-brown mare. He stopped in his tracks. “Did you need something?”
“Point out what needs
to be done out here and I’ll get started.”
“You mean you want to shovel horse manure?” When she nodded, he lifted his tan cowboy hat and scratched his forehead. “Don’t you have enough to do inside?”
She crossed her arms and didn’t budge. “I need a change of pace.”
“Wait here,” he said. “I’m taking Brown Sugar outside.”
“No problem. Growing up, I spent a lot of time at my best friend’s ranch. I loved it and wished I’d grown up on one.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I still remember a thing or two.”
Cash walked away, leaving her alone except for the few other horses still lingering in their stalls. The place was peaceful. She understood why Cash loved this ranch. Perhaps if the cookbook deal worked out and she made some extra money she could buy a small plot of land for herself and the baby. The thought filled her with hope.
Meghan strolled down the wide aisle, peering into the empty stalls. At the far end she made her way over to one of the occupied stalls. An engraved wooden plaque on the door read “Nutmeg.” The mare stuck her head out the opening and Meg ran her hand down over the sleek neck.
“Hey, girl. Ready to stretch your legs?”
The horse, as though understanding her, lifted her chin.
“Have you made a new friend?”
The sound of Cash’s voice caused Meghan to jump.
She whirled around to face him. “You startled me.”
He held up both hands in defense. “Sorry. But you’ve got to pay more attention to your surroundings if you intend to spend time around the horses.”
“Where would you like me to start?”
He eyed her up. “You’re really serious about this?”
She nodded.
“Do you think you’re up to walking Nutmeg out to the corral?”
“Definitely. We were just becoming friends.”
When he stepped closer to help with the horse the quivering in her stomach kicked up a notch. No man had a right to be so good-looking. If he smiled more often he’d have every available female in New Mexico swooning at his feet. And she’d be the first in line.
Meghan got to work. She wasn’t here to drool over him. She wanted to earn her keep and prove to him that they could still get along.
* * *
Cash watched as she led the mare outside. Meg’s curly ponytail swished from side to side. He couldn’t turn away. He drank in the vision of her like a thirsty man lost in the desert. There were no two ways about it: he was crazy to agree to work with this beautiful redhead who could heat his blood with the gentle sway of her hips.
He should have turned her away, but when her green eyes had pleaded with him he’d folded faster than a house of cards in a windstorm. He sighed. No point in beating himself up over his weakness when it came to Meg. Besides, maybe it’d do her some good, having a chance to live out her childhood dream of living on a ranch. He wondered how real life would compare. Probably not very well.
When he’d first arrived at the Tumbling Weed he’d believed all his problems were in the past. Not even close. As a child, he hadn’t had the capacity to realize his father had most likely got his mean streak from Cash’s grandfather.
Cash had started for the tackroom when the sound of an approaching vehicle had him changing directions. He couldn’t think who it would be—perhaps a potential buyer? His steps came a little faster. Slowly but surely the reputation of Tumbling Weed had been getting out into the horse community, drawing in new customers.
He stepped out of the stable and a flash went off in his face. He blinked, regaining his vision only to find a stranger with a camera in his hand. A growl rose in the back of Cash’s throat. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that this smug-looking trespasser was a reporter.
“Aren’t you Cash Sullivan, the two-time world steer-wrestling champion?” The man, who appeared to be about his own age, approached him with his hand extended.
Cash’s shoulders grew rigid. His neck muscles tightened. He’d bet the whole ranch this reporter wasn’t here to do an article on his horse-breeding business. He crossed his arms and the man’s hand lowered. “What do you want?”
“A man who gets straight to the point. Good. Let’s get down to business—”
“You can start by explaining why you’re on my ranch.”
The man’s brows rose. “So you’re admitting you’re Cash Sullivan? The man who started a life of crime at an early age? What was it?” He snapped his fingers. “Got it. You held up a liquor store with your old man.”
The muscles in Cash’s clenched jaw throbbed. This reporter had certainly done his homework and he wasn’t afraid to turn up the heat. Cash refused to defend himself. No matter what he said it’d be twisted and used against him in the papers.
When silence ensued, the reporter added, “And weren’t you a suspect in the rodeo robbery earlier this year?”
Cash lowered his arms with his hands fisted. Every bit of willpower went into holding back his desire to take a swing at this jerk. A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that an assault charge certainly wouldn’t help his already colorful background.
With all his buttons pushed, Cash spoke up. “Funny how you forgot to add the part where I was never charged with either crime. If you guys don’t have a good story you conjure one up. Now, get off my property.”
The man didn’t budge. “Not until you tell me if you’ve stolen another man’s bride.”
Cash glared at the man. Did this fool have a clue how close he was to being physically removed from the Tumbling Weed?
“How do you know her? Have you two been lovers all along?”
Cash flexed his fists and stepped forward. “For your own safety, leave. Now.”
The man’s eyes widened but he didn’t retreat. “So my question struck a chord? Where are you hiding the runaway bride?”
The man peered around. Cash wanted to glance over his shoulder to make sure Meg hadn’t followed him out of the barn, but he couldn’t afford to give anything away. There was no way he’d let this man get anywhere near her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no woman around here.”
“You don’t remember being at that church at the time of the bride’s mysterious escape?”
Cash’s gaze narrowed in on the man. This was the reporter who’d asked him if he’d seen which way Meg had gone. How much did he know?
“Why bother me? Shouldn’t you be checking out her home? Or speaking with her family?”
What had led this man to his doorstep? Were there more reporters behind him? A sickening sensation churned in his gut.
The reporter rubbed his stubbled jaw. “The thing is she hasn’t been home and her family doesn’t have a clue where she is. Seems you’re the last person to see her. I’m thinking she tossed over the groom for her lover. I’ll just have a look around and ask her myself.”
Cash’s open hand thumped against the guy’s chest, sending him stumbling back toward his car. “You’re trespassing. If you take one more step on my ranch you’ll be facing the sheriff.”
The man narrowed his gaze on him, as though trying to figure out if he was serious. Cash put on his best poker face, meeting the man’s intense stare dead-on. At last all those late nights of card playing out on the rodeo circuit had paid off.
“What if my publisher was willing to make this worth your while?”
“I don’t have anything to tell you. You’re sniffing ’round the wrong cowboy and the wrong ranch. You’ve been warned.”
The man yanked a card out of his pocket. “If you change your mind, call me. Don’t take too long. If the rumors and public interest die so does my offer.”
When Cash didn’t make a move to accept the card, the man reached out and boldly stuffed it in Cash’s shirt pocket. Fi
nally the man turned and climbed back in his car. Cash didn’t move until the vehicle had disappeared from sight.
He pulled the card out and ripped it up. This wasn’t over. As sure as he was standing there on this red earth the rumors would begin to swell. His past would be dug up—again.
No matter what he did, he’d never escape his past. In the end he would only end up damaging Meg’s reputation even more. If he’d ever needed a reminder of why he was better off alone this was it.
He’d never be a good boyfriend, much less husband material.
This fact stabbed at his chest deeply and repeatedly.
Cash turned and headed for the barn. At least Meg had had the presence of mind to stay hidden while the reporter had been snooping around.
“Meg, you can come out now.”
He detected a whimper. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting after being in the bright sunshine.
“Help me...” Meg’s voice wavered.
He scanned the area and saw her lying on her side. His heart galloped faster than his finest quarter horse. He rushed to her side and crouched down.
“Did you break something?” Her watery eyes stared up at him. He wished she’d say something—anything. “Meg, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I was running to hide from the reporter and...and I slipped.” Her bottom lip quivered.
He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before letting his hand slide down to caress her soft cheek. “Do you think you can get up?”
“I...I think so. But what if I hurt the baby?”
The baby? A shaft of fear sliced into him. He snatched his hand back from her. She sure didn’t look pregnant.
“How...how far along are you?”
“Not very. But I can’t lose it.” A silent tear splashed onto her pale cheek.
“I’ll call an ambulance.” He reached for his cell phone.
“No—wait.”
“You’re in pain. You should go get checked out right away.”