She looked up and found Jericho staring at her. She must look a mess. Her T-shirt was sweaty and clinging to her torso. Several strands of hair had escaped her ponytail, and she’d long since stopped brushing them behind her ears. Suddenly self-conscious, she wished she didn’t look like she’d been mucking out stalls. Or worse, that she didn’t smell like it.
Of course, the hard work looked fabulous on him. His shirt was also clinging to him, but it only emphasized his muscular chest and six-pack abs. Rather than smelling bad, his masculine scent was intoxicating.
He smiled and her heart skipped a beat. “I’m impressed. Thanks for your help.”
His words warmed her, and she grinned so broadly you’d think she’d never received a compliment before. “You’re welcome.”
She walked beside him down the center aisle and out the double doors. The sun was shining brightly in the blue sky. A gentle breeze blew and she pulled her T-shirt away from her chest, allowing the breeze to cool her. Several rabbits were nibbling on grass as if they were in a restaurant. They didn’t even look up as she and Jericho passed. Apparently they weren’t concerned about being featured on the dinner menu.
“Rabbits aren’t the smartest animals in the kingdom,” Jericho said, laughing and shaking his head.
“Clearly.” They were getting closer to the corrals. With each step, the horses loomed larger. When they got there, Jericho leaned against the top rail of the fence and hooked a foot on the bottom rail. She did the same.
She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I want to ride.”
He pushed back his hat and stared at her, approval in his eyes. “What brought this about?”
“It just seems ridiculous to be afraid, especially since I’m on a ranch.”
“Okay. I’ll saddle up Buttercup for you before you change your mind.”
He might have been jesting, but doubt was already beginning to rear its ugly head. She punched it in the nose. She’d blown the whistle on criminals. Surely she could sit on a horse.
It was too late to worry about it. Jericho had already saddled Buttercup and was leading her to Camille, the clip-clop of hooves growing louder.
Faking courage she didn’t come close to feeling, Camille stepped up to the tall horse. Little children rode horses every day. She was at least as brave as a seven-year-old. “What should I do?”
“Take a deep breath and blow it out.”
She complied. “Now what?”
“You’re going to get on.”
She looked from the horse to him and back. Even at her height, she didn’t see how she would pull off that feat without either hurting or embarrassing herself. Neither option held appeal. “How?”
“Come over here.”
He was standing on Buttercup’s left side. Camille cautiously moved up beside him.
“Put your left foot in the stirrup and hold on to the saddle horn to pull yourself up. I’ll hold the reins. Swing your right leg over. Okay? That’s all there is to it.” He gestured as he spoke, pointing out the stirrup and saddle horn.
Okay? “Easy peasy.” Not.
“Take your time. Neither Buttercup nor I am in a hurry.”
“I’m ready.” She forced herself to put her foot into the stirrup and grabbed hold of the saddle. She hopped a couple of times but couldn’t get high enough to swing her right leg over the horse. Jericho grabbed her around her waist and lifted her. In a movement that was anything but graceful, she swung her leg over the back of the horse and dropped into the saddle. She knew a moment of exhilaration. She was sitting on a horse!
She looked down. Whoa. She was sitting on a horse. It was a lot higher than she’d thought. Why hadn’t she asked how to get off before she got on?
The horse took a couple of small steps, and panic bloomed in her stomach. “This is so not a good idea.”
“It’s fine.” Jericho rubbed Buttercup’s neck. “Take the reins so you can hold on.”
She took the straps, then squeezed them in a death grip.
“Let’s take a walk around the corral.”
A squeal escaped her.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to walk beside you.”
“What if I fall?”
“I’ll catch you.”
He sounded so sincere her stomach settled and her fears calmed. Until the horse began to walk. The motion was unnatural, and she couldn’t seem to adjust her body to it. She whimpered.
“It’s okay.” Before she knew what he intended, he had swung up on the horse and sat behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pried the reins from her hands. “Lean against me and relax. I won’t let you fall.”
She wanted to move, but she couldn’t. Fear had gripped her, and she couldn’t shake free. Leaning forward, he spoke gently into her ear, his voice sending chills down her spine. “You’re safe with me, Camille. Trust me.”
She did. Exhaling, she leaned back against his hard chest. He jiggled the reins and the horse began to walk slowly. Buttercup’s movements were no longer frightening. Instead, with Jericho’s arms wrapped around her, it felt almost sensual. Camille let her head fall against Jericho’s shoulder.
“See, it’s not so scary.”
Riding the horse wasn’t scary. It was actually kind of nice. Feeling so safe and comfortable in Jericho’s arms? That was terrifying.
Chapter Nine
Camille rose from the table stiffly, trying and failing to stifle a groan. Every part of her body ached, including her hair. Jericho had warned her about overdoing it her first day, but she’d been too excited to listen. Now she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn. After she’d grown comfortable on Buttercup, she’d begged to do some real riding. Jericho had suggested they wait until tomorrow, but she had been exhilarated and didn’t want to stop. Besides, she didn’t want to risk letting her fear return. Jericho had reluctantly saddled Diablo and taken her on a ride around the ranch.
The hour had been thrilling for more reasons than one. Jericho’s nearness had set her imagination free, and she’d pictured herself riding off into the sunset with him. He had been striking, riding his stallion with such confidence. Sitting tall in the saddle, his muscular legs steering the horse with practiced ease, his eyes shaded from the sun by the brim of his Western hat, he put all other men to shame.
“Let me take your plate.”
She slid back into her chair. “Thanks. I guess I should have listened to you.”
“You think?” He suddenly seemed angry, as if he was the one suffering.
“I just thought since I’m in pretty good shape I would be all right.”
“Riding a horse isn’t like riding a bike.”
He’d get no argument there. She just wished he’d stop frowning at her. She shifted, trying to find a way to sit comfortably on her aching backside. There wasn’t one. “Yeah. I get that now.”
He stared at her a long moment and then huffed out a breath. “You need to soak in the tub.”
“Good idea.” She pushed back her chair, and he was immediately beside her, helping her to her feet. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and despite the fact that her body was screaming with misery, a flicker of desire stirred up butterflies in her stomach. The pain didn’t stop the yearning his touch created inside her.
She shuffled around the table and was halfway to the door when he muttered a curse under his breath. An instant later, he swept her up in his arms. Heart pounding, she couldn’t speak a word of protest to save her life. And she really should protest. She was a grown woman responsible enough to suffer the consequences of her actions.
But it felt so good to be held in his arms.
He climbed the stairs, then hesitated. She thought he might be ready to put her down—after all, she was five foot ten, not some tiny little thing—so she reluctantly began to ease out of his arms. He tightened his hold on he
r and then, as if he’d reached a conclusion of some sort, pushed open the door to his bedroom, walking through it to his master bath, where he gently lowered her onto the closed toilet seat.
“My tub has jets. The one in the guest bathroom doesn’t.” He backed away as if he’d suddenly discovered she had cooties.
“Thanks.” He was being kind, so why were her feelings suddenly hurting nearly as badly as her body?
“I’ll get you some clean towels,” he said, leaving the bathroom.
He soon returned with several fluffy towels, which he piled on the side of the tub. He turned on the water and placed his hand under the spout to test the temperature. When he was satisfied, he lowered the stopper and the tub began to fill. Finally he looked at her, his dark eyes searching. Her breath caught in her lungs. But he blinked and broke eye contact. Without saying a word, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
She exhaled, trying to release the tension from her body. Although he was gone, his presence lingered in the room. It was there in his masculine scent that floated in the air. In his lone toothbrush in the holder. In his lonely razor on the counter. As she looked around the bathroom, her heart ached for him. Every inch of space pointed out the absence of Jeanette.
Pushing to her feet, she forced all thoughts of him from her mind and undressed. The tub was just about filled, so she shut off the water. She dipped in a toe, then gradually sank into the tub. With a heartfelt sigh, she turned on the jets and leaned back. The pulsing water began to work its magic and the worst of the aches began fading away.
The water began to cool, and she reluctantly got out. She dried off and wrapped herself in the towel, then gathered her dirty clothes. She opened the door and stepped into Jericho’s bedroom and looked around. The navy comforter matched the curtains hanging in front of the French doors and the window. The only pillows were the one where he placed his head each night and the one beside it. A navy-and-tan rug covered the hardwood floor beside the bed. Matching lamps were the only items on the bedside tables. The dresser was also free of clutter. Clearly Jericho subscribed to the minimalist school of decorating. Or he’d removed every item that reminded him of Jeanette.
Realizing she was snooping, Camille opened the door and peered into the hall. With only a towel covering her nakedness, she didn’t want Jericho to think she was trying to seduce him. She cringed as she remembered that day years ago. Had she really been stupid enough to think he would betray Jeanette? Of course, she hadn’t really believed he’d been in love with Jeanette. That’s why she’d behaved so foolishly.
Thankfully he wasn’t anywhere in sight, so she stepped into the hall and crept to her room. Pulling on a T-shirt and panties, she climbed into the bed. She listened to the sounds of the night until sleep claimed her.
* * *
What had gotten into him?
Jericho stared at the stars in the cloudless sky as if they held the answer. He certainly didn’t. He’d racked his brain until his head ached and still he couldn’t figure out why he suddenly found Camille so intriguing. So damn sexy. Nor did he know why his body responded immediately at just the thought of her.
He leaned against the corral fence and heaved out a breath. The wind blew, but it did little to cool his overheated skin. Nor did it remove the pictures of Camille naked in warm water that kept popping into his imagination. It had felt so good to hold her, he’d hated to let her go. Her soft curves filled his arms so perfectly he had wanted to place her in his bed and make love to her until she forgot her pain.
Frustrated, he pushed away from the fence and began walking across the ranch. An owl hooted in the distance and a horse snorted in the barn. The noises did nothing to silence the voices in his mind.
His life was taking yet another turn, and once more he was powerless to stop it. He’d gone from carefree bachelor, to happy husband, to heartbroken widower in the space of five years. He’d lived with unbearable pain for the longest time. Then he’d become numb. He thought he was dead inside. But he was wrong. The numbness was wearing off and the pain had diminished. In their place was a growing desire for Camille. He wasn’t yet ready to embrace a new life, but his old life was slipping away despite how tightly he held on.
He wasn’t ready to let go of Jeanette. He couldn’t. She’d owned his heart from the moment he saw her. He could have sworn he’d buried his heart with her, yet it had somehow managed to unearth itself and find its way back into his chest. The beats might have been irregular and not quite steady, but his heart was finding a way to care again.
Whistling for Shadow, who was running around a scarred tree, Jericho climbed the stairs, admitting tonight wouldn’t be the night he figured out a way to handle his attraction to Camille. He bolted the door, something he’d rarely done in the past. Although he knew it was next to impossible for someone to track Camille to his ranch, he took his job to protect her seriously.
He took a quick shower, then hopped into bed. It hadn’t felt so big and so empty in months. He’d long since passed the stage where he would reach his arm across the cool mattress hoping to feel his wife one more time. He now realized he would encounter nothing more than cold sheets and an even colder pillow.
He was drifting off to sleep when he heard cries coming from the guest room. Wide awake, he jumped up. Because Camille was just down the hall, he’d begun sleeping in boxers instead of in the nude. Not wanting to barge into her room wearing just his underwear, he hopped into his discarded jeans and fastened them as he raced through the hall. He pushed open her door without knocking.
She sat on the bed, gripping her right calf. Tears streamed down her face and dropped onto her T-shirt.
Without giving thought to his actions, he crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. She looked up, her teeth catching her bottom lip as if to hold back another moan. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.” The blanket had fallen off the side of the bed, leaving her luscious body uncovered. Her T-shirt was twisted around her waist, revealing her tempting thighs. His eyes swept over her shapely legs before he forced them to her face. “Charley horse?”
She nodded. “Plural. It’s like my lower body is one big painful cramp.” She gasped, then writhed in pain.
He cursed under his breath.
“That about sums it up.”
“I should have offered you a painkiller earlier.” But by then he’d reached his limits of control. She’d felt like heaven with her back pressed against his chest, her legs between his, her round bottom nestled against him. Her feminine scent had teased his nostrils, arousing him. He’d been afraid he might act on his desires, so he’d left her alone in his bathroom and headed for the hills.
“I should have asked.” She moaned and began massaging her other leg.
It was too late to worry about it now. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the bathroom, then hurried to the kitchen, where he filled a glass with water. Thinking she could use more hydration, he filled a large pitcher and brought that, too.
“Take these,” he said, handing her two pills and the glass of water.
“Thanks.” She swallowed the tablets along with half the water and placed the glass on the bedside table.
“Finish it. Water will help fight the cramps. I’ve brought more for later.” He waited until she had downed every drop, then took the glass. “Lie down on your stomach.”
She didn’t question him, but immediately followed his instructions. That alone showed him just how much she was suffering. Camille didn’t like being bossed around and she had a comment about everything. She adjusted the T-shirt so that it covered her round bottom and the tops of her thighs, then lay still. Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the open window, she was every man’s dream. Or at least his. At this moment she was also his greatest torment.
Telling himself to
focus on relieving her pain and not her soft, smooth legs, he began to massage the calf she had been gripping.
Her gasp filled the silent room, and he realized she must be as shocked as he felt. Before today they had done very little touching. Now his hands were going to be all over her body. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow.
“I think a massage will help. That is, if it’s okay with you.” His voice was a raspy whisper; he didn’t sound at all like himself.
“It’s fine.”
“I have some liniment that will work these cramps out.” Starting with her right calf, he began to squeeze the tense muscles beneath the silky-soft skin. Kneading first with his thumb and adding pressure with his palm and the rest of his hand, he increased the pressure and began moving close to her knee and then back toward her ankle. Her breathy sigh of pleasure let him know he was doing something right. Of course, the feel of her skin beneath his hands was driving him crazy. It took every ounce of his hard-earned discipline to keep his mind squarely where it belonged and not on the pleasure that could result from such intimate contact.
He wiped the back of his hand across his damp forehead. How long could he endure this sweet torture? Her skin was smoother than he’d imagined. Forcing himself to keep from turning the touch into something sexual, he began to work the knots out of the muscles in her left calf. This had to be the worst kind of punishment known to man. With each of her pleasured sighs, his jeans became tighter until they were downright uncomfortable. Thank goodness she was lying on her stomach with her face away from him or she would see just how aroused he was becoming.
Telling himself to think of the feeding schedule, he slid his hands over the back of her knees and to her thighs. He stilled and waited for her reaction. When she didn’t protest, he continued to rub her skin, focusing attention on places where he felt knots.
When he’d done all he could to relieve her pain, at least to the parts of her body he dared to touch, he stood, careful to avoid the ribbon of moonlight shining through the slightly open curtains. “How’s that? Better?” His voice sounded ragged even to his own ears.
The Rancher and the City Girl Page 9