His thoughtful question caught her unawares.
“It was quieter than normal.” She’d rocked a fragile preemie whose single mom had to get back to work. The morning had been especially filled with reminders of her own baby and how hard life could be.
She’d missed the distraction of having her friend to talk with. She found herself reaching to stroke the horse. The animal lowered his head, the powerful muscles moving.
Marshall stroked, his hand moving alongside hers. “Do you ride?”
“I’ve never had the opportunity. It’s an expensive sport.” Even a quick survey of the barn showed it held more wealth than she knew what to do with. Leather halters with golden engraved plates. Leather lead lines. She could barely see into the tack room, but knew it held an array of saddles and bridles.
He nodded slowly. “True enough. But for me, it’s not a sport. It’s a way of life.”
“I can see that.”
He was at home here. That was obvious. Would it help her to understand him better if she shared something he enjoyed so much? The idea appealed more than it should.
Marshall tipped his head to the side. “How about you get on the horse since I can’t risk it?”
The notion sounded enticing, especially when she saw in his eyes how special that was to him. “But I don’t know how.”
“Lucky for you, I’m a good teacher.” He dipped his head to speak soothing words to the horse. “Come on, Silk. I have a pretty lady for you to meet.”
His voice and ease with the horse were mesmerizing. He slid a halter over the chestnut gelding and led him out of the stall. Clipping the horse to stall ties, he grabbed a basket filled with brushes.
Marshall’s smile widened as he pulled out each brush, explaining as he went along. Her stomach knotted in tension and excitement, over riding the horse, of course. Not because the man was suddenly standing so close to her she could barely breathe. Right.
Hoping he wouldn’t notice her nerves, she stroked Silk’s neck.
“I’m going to tell you the biggest secret to riding.” He winked. “Breathe. If you are calm, so are they. Riding is about constant communication between horse and rider. Blending your souls together.”
His passion was evident as he spoke, and that fire mesmerized her until she hung on his every word.
“This is the pommel of the saddle, which leads into the horn.” He pointed to the apex of the black-and-silver saddle. “When you’re up there, feel free to hold on to the horn. You’ll want to keep your weight centered. I’ll explain more when you’re settled in the saddle.”
Placing a turquoise-and-black woven saddle pad on Silk’s back, Marshall flashed her a grin. How did this man manage to turn her so inside out with a simple gesture?
He slung the bridle over his shoulder and adjusted the saddle pad. She reached to help him. Her fingers brushed his, igniting a spark inside her.
Marshall heaved the saddle onto the horse’s back and adjusted the girth, his muscles flexing as he managed it one-handed. In a quick movement, he’d shucked the halter to the side, slid the bit into the horse’s mouth and fitted the bridle. Nodding his head, a thick lock fell over his head, the hint of curl in his hair from the snow calling to her fingers.
She’d made a big mistake coming here, into his world, and thinking she could be unaffected. Thank goodness it was time to head outside, where the breeze could tease away the earthy scent of him.
Tally rushed out ahead of him, waiting, drawing in a couple of steadying breaths of icy air.
Stopping the horse, Marshall motioned for her to come over. “I’ll help you up.”
“I can do it.” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, nerves getting to her. Besides, she wasn’t sure her defenses could withstand the helpful touching that might be involved if he assisted her.
“I’ll stand by. Just in case.”
She nodded, hand going up to the horn. All she had to do was pull herself up. How hard could it be? She attempted to put her foot in the stirrup. With a great heave, she tried to hoist herself into the saddle.
Instead of forward momentum, she lurched backward toward the ground. But rather than crashing into snow-covered earth, she slid back into a hard-planed chest, turning in his arms.
Her breath hitched, and she could see he’d heard. His pupils widened an instant before his eyes narrowed. His arm banded around her, drawing her closer, and she couldn’t find the words or will to stop this. It was just a kiss.
Just...one...kiss... Then so much more.
His mouth skimmed over hers, once, twice, sending a pulse of desire through her. The mere touch of his lips to hers had her melting against him, her hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt. He slid his wrist from the sling and wrapped both arms around her, pressing to the small of her back.
The hard-muscled wall of his chest was a wide expanse she ached to explore. Her fingers splayed wider, skimming under the leather vest he wore but over the flannel shirt. She looped her arms around his neck. It had been so long since she’d been with a man. But even that didn’t explain the depth of her longing to be with this man.
He was so strong and thoughtful. But also mysterious in a way that intrigued her. Too much.
What was she thinking to kiss him this way? To lose sight of everything she’d come here to accomplish?
Regret stinging, she eased back, struggling for words to explain why this shouldn’t have happened. Of course, she couldn’t share those reasons, none of which should be spoken. The secrets she hid would only hurt him.
So she simply held up her hands and backed away from the greatest temptation of her life.
Six
Marshall had expected there to be fireworks once he kissed Tally. But he couldn’t have imagined the explosive reality of having her in his arms. If the chemistry of a simple kiss was off the chain, then how incredible would sex between them be?
A thought he’d pondered through a long, restless night until he’d accepted that ignoring the attraction was only making things worse, deepening his craving. Perhaps the wiser move for his sanity and sobriety would be to pursue a no-strings affair with her, both of them understanding it was short-term.
Not that he planned to press that move just yet. He couldn’t have missed that she was wary when she pulled away. And she’d been a no-show for breakfast, simply leaving muffins and fruit on the counter for him, along with a full coffeepot and a note. She’d spoken with his sister Naomi, and his family wanted to come over to help decorate this afternoon.
Damn, Naomi was pushy.
Still, he’d have a few more precious hours without his sister’s well-meaning prodding.
His bare feet pressed into the wood floors that led to the living room. The place smelled of balsam and spruce from the pine boughs on the mantel and trailed around archways, but Marshall knew once his family arrived the greenery around the house would multiply exponentially. Holiday tunes played lightly on the whole-home speaker system. Marshall could see hints of Christmas already present, proof of Tally’s quick, resourceful work.
The woman moved through her daily tasks with the determination of an Alaskan blizzard. Purposeful. Thorough. All-encompassing. And mesmerizingly beautiful.
Sitting on the leather couch’s arm, he took a deep breath. Wondering the right way to navigate this space. He looked at the crackle of the fire, staring into the flames’ dance.
A sense of being watched drew his gaze over his shoulder. Tally struggled with a bin, her white knuckles straining against a box that was nearly half her size. A pang shot through him, deep and true. Damn. Frustration rose in his chest that he couldn’t alleviate the weight for her. Useless cast.
He took one side of the bin, irritated that he couldn’t take the whole thing. Damn sling. “You should wait and let my brothers carry all of that down.”
“So you got my
note. I hope you’re free?” She nodded toward the line of bins under a high window revealing a piece of the deep blue sky. They put the container down.
“I’m not sure I have a choice.”
“You’re the boss.”
Was she reminding herself as well? “When Naomi speaks, we all line up.”
Dressed in a bright red reindeer sweater, she shifted from foot to foot, tension heating the air between them hotter than the flames in the fireplace. “I should have checked with you.”
He couldn’t let her take the blame. “My family should have checked with me. But they went through you so I wouldn’t say no.”
“Why would you tell them not to come?” Her earrings, a pair of shiny jingle bells, chimed as she tilted her head to stare up at him.
He mulled how much to tell her. Being around Naomi was tough. Not her fault. But she reminded him of their sister Breanna. Brea had never reached adulthood, but if she had, odds were she would have looked like Naomi. More detail than he felt comfortable sharing.
“Holidays are rough when you’ve lost close family members. This one is especially rough.” He leaned against the sofa back. “Only a few months ago a nutcase wrangled her way into the family business and then made claims that somehow my sister Breanna survived the plane crash.”
“Oh my God. That’s so cruel.” Her legs folded, and she sat on one of the bins marked “lights.”
“Cruel or not, we have to look into it, which dredges up the worst time of our life. The plane crash was...horrific...” He swallowed hard, willing back memories of his father sitting him and his siblings down to tell them. “DNA tests say my mother and sister were on board.” The pain of that time had never dulled, but it had an especially sharp edge these days with the current investigation into the past churning up too many memories.
It didn’t help that he couldn’t use work to keep himself busy, his ranch chores limited by the injury. The past was too close.
And that increased the temptation to give in to Tally and the forgetfulness he could find in her arms.
She leaned forward and rested a gentle hand on his cast arm. “I’m sorry your family has to suffer through so much—then and now.”
How was it her touch radiated through plaster? Damn, he was in trouble.
He hauled his focus back to the moment. “The woman—Milla Jones—made the claim when we caught her leaking business secrets. Then she disappeared somewhere in Canada. We have investigators checking into her past and working on tracing her trail. Not that it will change reality.”
“And your family has planned this big fund-raiser at your place—and sent me here—to keep you busy so you don’t have time to think about the past since you live alone and are tied down by the injury.”
“Seems so.”
“I have this feeling I’ve made your life more complicated rather than simplifying things.” She pressed her hands to her mouth for a moment before continuing, “About the kiss last night...”
And there was the root of the tension between them. This was the perfect opportunity to test the waters for moving forward with the attraction. “I don’t want you to feel awkward or pressured. Anything that happened—or happens—between us is totally separate from your job here.”
“That’s kind of difficult. We’re living under the same roof. Granted, the place is as big as a B and B.” She winced, her words flowing faster. “Clearly, I find you attractive, but I didn’t mean to kiss you. Acting on the attraction would make things too messy.”
“Ah, so you find me attractive.” He couldn’t hold back his smile, or a pulse of pleasure over her admission.
She sighed in exasperation. “This conversation is not going the way I intended.”
“Nothing between us has been predictable in the short time we’ve known each other.” That was beyond an understatement. “Just think what else could be in store.”
She swept her hair back with a shaky hand. “That only makes me more nervous.”
The last thing he wanted was to make her nervous. “Are you sure I didn’t take advantage?”
“No! Heavens no,” she said with unmistakable honesty. “I worry I was the one who overstepped.”
Ah, progress. He tugged a loose lock of her hair, testing the silky length between his fingers. “I promise, you didn’t take advantage of me.”
Her shoulders braced. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not. I think you’re something else.” He stroked the strand behind her ear before skimming a finger over the tiny jingle bell earring. “But I hear what you’re saying. I won’t kiss you again without your okay.”
“You mean that?” she said in a breathy whisper that caressed his wrist as he pulled back.
“I do.” He pinned her with his gaze if not his touch. He wanted there to be no misunderstanding between them. “Keep in mind, though, that doesn’t mean I won’t use other powers of persuasion. Because, lady, that kiss was one in a million.”
* * *
Tally had relived that kiss in her mind again and again. Or more specifically, the memory replayed through her senses, every tingling detail as she helped decorate Marshall’s home for Christmas. At least she had the distraction of a houseful of people today. His family was out in force to help. The sprawling living area was filled with Steeles and Mikkelsons, all in the holiday spirit.
As she had moved through the world, Tally discovered she had a knack for reading people, connecting with them. In the dark days, she liked to think it explained her ease with infants or how she’d settled on a career that required her to navigate other people’s spaces with sensitivity. On the bright days, this extra sense afforded her the ability to make friends easily.
Shana, Chuck Mikkelson’s wife, seemed to be one of the souls that beckoned to hers. The curvy blonde’s gentle smile and infectious laugh felt familiar to Tally, like a home filled with sisters and sleepovers. A vision she’d always craved.
In the midst of Mikkelson and Steele family members, Shana felt like an extra-warm beacon. She’d helped Tally set out a fondue bar—a hot cheese concoction with veggies and breads—as well as a chocolate dip with fruits. In the middle, she’d placed gourmet pretzels to pair with either.
Carols piped through the sound system, jazz renditions of classic favorites. She wondered if her sexy boss knew how lucky he was to have so many people who cared about him.
Jack Steele had brought piles of live garland from a family cutting party, stacking the boughs neatly by the staircase. His wife, Jeannie, fastened intricate bows at intervals on the greenery. Elegant and classic, they would look stunning once they were strung. Tally couldn’t help but be touched by this wealthy family who still took the time to decorate from scratch together.
Shana gripped a plate in her right hand, crossing the great living room to kneel beside Tally. Gathering her long skirt to the side, she settled in, blond hair in loose waves. Tally gave a small smile, arranging the nativity by the fire. She thoughtfully placed the animals, trying to capture the movement and sentiment of the story with the figurines.
Tally put the angel on top of the crèche. “You’re all kind to come pitch in when you have your own homes to decorate.”
Shana popped a chocolate-covered blueberry into her mouth. “I have a spouse to decorate with. The others all live piled into the mansion together. Marshall is here alone.”
A roil of voices erupted from across the room as Broderick, Chuck and Conrad carried in a towering live Christmas tree. The fresh scent of pine hung in the air, blending deliciously with the warm cinnamon candles she’d lit an hour ago. Marshall followed behind, his face cross from not being able to do anything besides guide the tree toward its stand hidden in a massive decorative urn.
“I was hired to help him while he recovers.” Not to make out with him.
“You are helping, and we’re grateful to have foun
d you. You’ve done a lot to make today all the more special.” She lifted her plate of fruit drizzled with chocolate.
“All I did was haul down some decorations and set up a few snacks.”
“What a great spread,” Shana said, swirling a strawberry through the melted chocolate. Her eyes widened with delight as the chocolate coated the fruit. Truth be told, the strawberry looked mostly chocolate at that point.
“It’s easy to put out a spread when the budget is virtually unlimited.” As if Tally needed another reminder of their very different worlds.
“I hear you. I grew up with a more...limited...budget.” Shana gestured to the massive living room. “All of this still feels overwhelming sometimes even though I’ve been a part of it for five years. But, of course, that could be because I don’t remember the whole five years.”
The statement fell flat. Pointed.
Tally gasped, at a loss for what to say other than, “Oh my. I didn’t know.”
“I assumed Marshall would have told you.” Shana touched her forehead. “I suffered a mild aneurysm recently, and it left me with a patchy memory of the past few years.”
“I’m so sorry. How scary that must be.” Tally focused her full attention on the woman, abandoning the decorations.
“I’m grateful to be alive, and my memory is coming back in pieces. I have my health and my husband. That’s so much more than I had before the hospital scare.”
The men arranged the tree off in the corner, securing the live fir with a thin wire. Marshall nodded, looking pleased as he surveyed the way the boughs fell.
Tally stayed diplomatically quiet, not wanting to be pushy, but unable to squelch her curiosity about this family—Marshall’s family.
Shana carefully picked up a crystal snowflake, playing with the facets. “Chuck and I had a rocky marriage. We’ve found our way back to each other, and we don’t intend to lose our way again.”
“I’m happy for you.”
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