The Playboy's Own Miss Prim

by Mindy Neff

  “I own it.”

  Her gaze whipped to his. “Get out.”

  His smile was slow and sexy as he nodded. Although his attention was focused on her, he was fully aware and in control of the Ranger.

  “Okay, legs, admit it.”

  She nearly rolled her eyes and had a really hard time keeping a straight face. It was getting harder by the minute to resist anything about Ethan Callahan. “I’m not admitting a thing. Your ego won’t be able to fit out the door of the helicopter.”

  He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, pulled her closer. “I can make you.”

  She wasn’t absolutely certain she could speak. She gave it a try, anyway. “I’m sure you can. But then who’s going to fly us?” The aircraft was holding steady, but still…

  He cocked a sexy brow as if to say they had all day and he was perfectly happy to wait.

  “Oh, all right.” Although she felt a bubble of laughter tickle her throat, she pretended to be put out. “I’m impressed. I’ve never known anybody who owned a waterfall.”

  “And mineral springs.”

  “Mineral springs? Ethan, you own your own private spa! Land this thing, would you?”

  “As you wish.”

  She nearly whacked him for teasing her, but a momentary shiver of apprehension tried to get its claws in her as they began dropping straight down. The landings she was used to were at a gradual descent.

  She craned her neck to see what was below the chopper, relieved that there was a fairly large carpet of grass. The skids touched the ground with a gentle one-two bump, and then the whine of the rotor was winding down, whipping slower and slower until it finally stopped.

  When Ethan unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door handle, that was Dora’s cue. She opened her own door and hopped down, drinking in the ambiance of the grotto. Kicking off her sandals, she turned in a wide circle, felt the cool blades of grass under her feet, heard the tumble of the waterfall and inhaled the sultry, sulfur scent of the hot springs.

  Ethan leaned against the nose of the Ranger and watched her. Sometimes, just watching Dora was enough. She drank in life and experiences with such verve and awe.

  She looked at him with a sunny smile, and he pushed away from the helicopter and held out his hand for her. She snuggled right under his arm, fitting perfectly. As though she’d always been there. As though that’s where she would always belong.

  He stopped at the edge of the spring. To the left, a cascade of snowmelt wound its way down the mountainside, sliding over rocks fuzzy with verdant moss, then emptied into the springs, keeping the sulfurous water at a pleasant temperature. A spot where the earth’s skin was thin, not unlike Yellowstone a couple of hundred miles away.

  Ethan pulled off his boots and socks so the warm water could lap at his toes.

  “How many people know about this place?”

  He shrugged. “Not many. There are no trails leading in. The only access is by air—unless you wanted to rappel down the face of the mountain.”

  In a move that was easy and felt right, Dora put her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. They stood just like that for several minutes, until Ethan could no longer ignore the soft press of her breasts against his side.

  “Want to go in?”

  “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  He reached behind him and grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head, then reached for the snap of his jeans. “Who needs a suit?”

  “I’m not going skinny-dipping right out here in the open.”

  Something in his chest fluttered. Dora Watkins could boss and sass, and she could be as shy as a virgin…which she no longer was, thanks to him. But he wasn’t going to get sidetracked by that right now.

  “Getting modest on me, legs?” He shucked his pants, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of Dora’s shorts, unzipped them and had them down her legs and off before she could blink.

  But Ethan blinked. Her white bodysuit looked like a sexy one-piece bathing suit and fit like a second skin. Cut high at the legs it flowed over her contours and hugged her breasts like an erotic picture. He suddenly had an urge to see her wet, watch the material turn clear with the lap of water.

  “Nice,” he said roughly, tracing the edge of her collarbone, then down to the scoop neck of the top. “Sexy.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers, drank in her taste, felt the instant kick of desire that he’d never experienced with any other woman. What was it with Dora? What was so different? “You’ve put a spell on me, I think,” he murmured.

  “Mmm. I’m not into that.”

  “Are you into waterfalls and hot springs?”

  She nibbled at his lips, his jaw, her tongue tracing a clever pattern over his neck. “Absolutely.”

  He slipped one shoulder of her top down her arm. “Dressed or not?”

  “Not. I didn’t bring a change of clothes and I’m not crazy about wet bodysuits.”

  “Mmm. I’d have liked to have seen it wet.”

  “Well, if you want to loan me your shirt, I imagine we could do a private wet T-shirt thing.”

  He peeled the bodysuit over her shoulders and down until she stepped out of it, taking the opportunity to kiss and lick his way back up her body. When he reached her mouth, her breath was coming in pants. “Maybe later. Ever made love under a waterfall?”

  She shook her head.

  He lifted her. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  Naked, he walked with her into the warm, silky pool of water, having trouble with his concentration as her breasts pressed erotically against his chest and her thighs hugged him like a boa. Their bodies brushed with each buoyant step.

  “How many women have you brought here?” Although most would consider that question prying, there wasn’t an ounce of apology in her tone.

  “You’re the first.” The realization both surprised and troubled him. This had been his own private oasis. He’d never wanted the intrusion or the memories of another woman here. He hadn’t even given that a thought when he’d brought Dora here.

  “Good,” she said.

  “Just like that? You believe me?”

  “Of course.” Her voice was soft, her blue eyes serious.

  Surrounded by giant cedars, feathery ferns and vibrant wild roses, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, held him as though he was the most important man in the world. It was a trust that humbled him. A trust he didn’t know if he deserved.

  He now realized that it wasn’t her purity or who her daddy was that had made him resist being close. He’d been resisting because he didn’t think he was good enough.

  But right now, he couldn’t find the energy or the strength to care whether or not he was what she needed. She’d given him the go-ahead for intimacy. And that freed him to take her places, to spend time with her, to make love with her. To enjoy her and revere her the way a man should enjoy and revere a woman.

  For as long as she was here.

  Dora wrapped her legs tighter around Ethan’s waist, felt the warm, silky water lap at her waist and the underside of her breasts. She felt the fine tension in his shoulders and wondered at it. It was almost as though he had regrets.

  Determined to banish those regrets, she poured everything she had into a soul-searing kiss that threatened to send her over the edge way too soon.

  Breathing heavily, she forced herself to slow down. His hands were everywhere at once, rubbing her back, her sides, cupping the weight of her breasts. He leaned against a smooth rock, propped her with his thigh, exerted just enough pressure to make her whimper.

  His lips sipped water from her jaw, beneath her ear.

  “You are the most daring, exciting, sensual woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

  Dora went still, waited for more. For words of love.

  Were these the words he used in place of love? The words that meant the same?

  She leaned her upper body back, gave him free access to her breasts, f
elt chills ripple up and down her spine as his lips toyed with her, pleasured her, drove her wild.

  “Ethan, now.”

  He positioned her over him, entered her and held utterly, erotically still. With his hands wrapped firmly around her hips, he was in control.

  She tried to hurry him along.

  “Wait, sweetheart.” His voice was rough and low. “Give me a minute.”

  He’d never called her sweetheart before. And the way he said it made Dora dream. Maybe these were Ethan’s love words, or as close as he could come. Perhaps they could be a family after all.

  And neither one of them would have to give up Katie.

  His fingers loosened on her hips and now he guided her into a gentle rhythm that soon became impatient.

  He swore, buried his lips in her throat. “You make me crazy. I can’t get enough.”

  “Then take all you want.” And he did. With healing waters lapping, and hands, lips and bodies rushing and straining, he took. And although Dora gave, she also took. Everything Ethan had to give her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ethan stood around after church, waiting for the women to finish setting up the potluck luncheon. Amazingly enough, Dora had pulled a chilled gelatin salad out of the refrigerator that morning. He should have known she’d understand and remember church schedules and such.

  He felt out of sorts—guilty if the truth be known—imagining that everyone knew he’d taken advantage of a preacher’s daughter. Never mind that she’d made it impossible to resist, that she kept making it impossible for him to resist. She deserved better.

  He watched the way she spoke with the ladies, and the men, for that matter. She touched and held court and moved among his friends as though she were a hostess at a party, making everyone feel welcome and special. She was a natural at it, and though the town should have been the ones to see to her welcome, it wasn’t necessary. Dora just automatically seemed to belong.

  When she laughed at something Dan Lucas said, putting her hand on the pastor’s shoulder, Ethan scowled.

  “What’s wrong, Callahan? You’re so used to women falling at your feet you don’t know what to do now that you’ve met one who’s giving you a run for your money?”

  “Shut up, Wyatt.” He didn’t need to ask to know that his friends had seen him watching Dora. He had to wonder if his tongue had been hanging out.

  Unrepentant, Wyatt grinned at Ethan’s surly tone. Stony merely raised a brow and leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on his daughter as Nikki frolicked with Ian. He was a giant of a man, soft spoken, but tough. He could gentle a horse like no one else, yet Ethan had seen him use his fists, too. Stony was one of those guys poets liked to wax on about still waters running deep.

  Ethan drew in a breath, thought about apologizing for his moodiness, then dismissed the idea. He’d grown up with these guys. They wouldn’t take it personally.

  “I like your Dora,” Wyatt said.

  “She’s not mine.”

  “Hmm. Eaten any oysters lately?”

  Ethan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Stony, too, was looking a little bewildered. Wyatt shrugged. “Never mind. Just something Hannah mentioned.”

  Ethan had no idea what Hannah and oysters had to do with him, but he didn’t have the energy to get into it. Wyatt was deliriously happy with his new wife and family. And though Ethan was happy for his friend, he’d begun to feel a distance growing between them. It was strictly on his part, he knew. But Wyatt now had a family, and Stony had Nikki.

  And Ethan was odd man out. Alone.

  Just as he wanted. Just as he’d always been happy with, he reminded himself.

  “Oysters are supposed to be aphrodisiacs,” Wyatt commented, evidently deciding to enlighten them, after all. “And olives, according to Hannah.”

  “Olives…” Ethan frowned. An image of Dora watching him intently as he ate green olives on their picnic flashed in his mind.

  Wyatt nodded, and Stony was looking highly interested, although he was as much in the dark about the direction of the conversation as Ethan was.

  “Seems Dora felt you needed a little help in the sex department.”

  “Help in…?” He frowned. “I do not.”

  Stony chuckled.

  “Glad to hear it,” Wyatt said.

  “Are you telling me Dora discussed our sex life with your wife?”

  “So there is a sex life?” Wyatt asked cagily.

  “None of your business.”

  “There you go,” Stony murmured, his nod clearly stating that Ethan’s surly reply was an admission.

  Wyatt just grinned.

  Ethan was frustrated. “I’m not standing around in church discussing this subject. Do you guys want to eat or not?” Without waiting for an answer, he strode toward the food table.

  He might have made it, too, but Dora flitted right across the room and intercepted him, putting her hand on his arm and smiling up at him as though he’d gathered the sun and moon in his hands just for her. She held Katie in her arms and the baby reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt, effectively creating a connected circle of the three of them—as though they were a unit.

  Why did that make his heart ache?

  He glanced over her head and noticed his friends’ telling smiles. Worse still were the four matchmakers standing off in a corner, watching and beaming.

  Didn’t these people know that a sinner and a saint didn’t mix?

  DORA CAREFULLY STACKED her sketches in her portfolio, pleased with the work she’d done. In the month she’d been at Ethan’s ranch, she’d had plenty of inspiration. Her agent would be happy.

  But time was ticking by. She had to get back to her work, her life. She had family obligations that she’d managed to cover, but only for the month. And according to the calendar, tomorrow would be thirty days.

  She drew in a shaky breath, trying not to think about it.

  Tidying up her work space—the only place where Dora truly paid attention to organization—her hand paused over a shelf of photographs. She picked them up, smiling at the photo of the tabby kitten peeking out of Ethan’s hat. She remembered that morning, his incredulity that she would even dream of using his hat to hold an animal. She laughed when she flipped to the next picture of the golden-haired, baby Lab hanging over the lip of Ethan’s boot.

  In her hands was a visual journal of her month with the Callahans: Katie standing on the changing table, looking at Ethan as if he was her hero, her hand clutching his bandanna, Ethan’s face lit with laughter and love; Ethan asleep on the couch with Katie sleeping on his chest; Ethan filthy after working with the horses; Ethan making googlie eyes at his baby daughter; Ethan with water dripping down his bare chest after a bout with a broken water pipe.

  Oh, he was so incredibly handsome. She ought to submit these photos as a calendar proposal. It would sell like mad.

  Her throat closed and her eyes filled with tears as she turned to the last photograph. It was one of her holding Katie in her arms.

  She had to make a decision. But how could she? How could she give up Katie? That precious baby girl she’d loved like her own since Katie had drawn her first breath.

  How could she ask Ethan to give her up?

  They should have talked about this, somehow introduced the subject of visitation in the eventuality that her heart’s desire wouldn’t come to pass. It wasn’t like her to bury her head in the sand, but that’s exactly what she’d been doing all these weeks.

  She had to face some real truths. She couldn’t stay here forever—well, maybe she could, but that would compromise everything she believed in, who she was. She hadn’t gotten Ethan to fall in love with her yet, and if she hadn’t accomplished that goal in a month, was she kidding herself to think that she’d eventually have success if she just stayed a little longer?

  He’d made it clear from the beginning that he wouldn’t offer marriage. To any woman.

  And Dora couldn’t continue to live with h
im, outside the bonds of matrimony.

  She knew the problem wouldn’t go away by ignoring it, but that’s exactly what she tried to do—again—as she grabbed her sketch pad and pencils and went in search of Ethan and Katie. Moments were precious now, and she couldn’t afford to waste them. She needed to take every opportunity to spend every possible minute with the child she loved so. And the man. Just in case.

  A patch of dandelions grew like a miniature meadow at the corner of the lawn. She picked a bunch and spent several minutes weaving the stems into a circlet. It was a purely fanciful endeavor, as they would wilt in a matter of an hour, but the crown of yellow weeds appealed to her.

  Stopping by the stall where Katie’s baby horse trotted friskily around, Dora clicked her tongue and reached her hand over the chest-high door.

  “Come here, sweet baby.” Without a shy bone in its body, the little filly trotted over, its mother close behind, eyeing Dora as though checking her out to see if she was worthy and safe enough to trust with her offspring.

  As the foal nuzzled Dora’s hand, she impulsively laid the circlet of dandelions over its ears and grinned at the absolutely darling pose.

  “Be still for just a minute.” She whipped out her sketch pad and furiously began to sketch, smiling as she drew little pointy ears, a little tuft of mane sticking up between them, a wreath of simple flowers dipping low over the baby horse’s inquisitive, velvety brown eyes.

  Ethan came to a halt just outside of the tack room, his heart jolting when he saw Dora sketching like mad. He couldn’t stop the smile that formed when he saw the crown of flowers on the foal’s head. The woman just flat-out charmed him.

  “Look what she’s done to your horsey,” he said softly to Katie. She clapped her hands and wiggled to get down. Ethan checked for obstacles. The concrete floors were clean enough to eat off, and Katie was wearing little bitty tennis shoes. Shouldn’t hurt, he thought.

  He set Katie down on her feet and steadied her with his palms. She was such an independent little cuss, she didn’t want him to hold tight.

  “You’re going to fall,” he cautioned, but he released his hold, allowing her to grip just his two forefingers.