In Bed with the Wrangler by Barbara Dunlop Page B

in the depths of her eyes, something warm and welcoming.
    At this very second, he could swear she was attracted to him. But he’d been down that road before. Down that road was a long night in a very lonely bed.
    He went back to work.
    “Royce?” Her footsteps echoed again as she moved closer.
    He heaved the bale into place, gritted his teeth and turned. “What?” he barked.
    “I’m…” She glanced at the scuffed floor. “Uh…sorry.”
    He swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. “Not as sorry as I am.”
    She glanced up in confusion. “For what? What did you do?”
    “I didn’t do anything.”
    “Then, what do you have to be sorry about?”
    “You want to know why I’m sorry?” He’d reached the breaking point, and he was ready to give it to her with both barrels. “You really want to know why I’m sorry?”
    She gave a tentative nod.
    “I’m sorry I walked into the Ritz-Carlton lounge.”
    Her eyes widened as he stripped off his gloves.
    “And I’m sorry I brought you home with me.” He tossed the gloves on the nearest hay bale. “And I’m sorry you’re so beautiful and desirable and sexy. But mostly, mostly I’m sorry my family’s future is falling down around my ears, and all I can think of is how much I want you.”
    Their eyes locked.
    For a split second, it looked as though she smiled.
    “You think this is funny? ”
    She shook her head. Then she took a step forward. “I think it’s ironic.”
    “You might not want to get too close,” he warned, drinking in the sight, sound and scent of her all in one shot, wondering how many seconds he could hold out before he dragged her into his arms.
    “Yeah?” She stepped closer still.
    “Did you not hear me?”
    She placed her flat palm against his chest. “I heard you just fine.” Her defiant blue eyes held one of the most blatant invitations he’d ever seen.
    He hoped she knew what she was doing.
    Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t care less if she knew or not. Just so long as she didn’t back off this time.
    His arms went around her and jerked her flush against him, all but daring her to protest.
    Then he bent his head; his desire and frustration transmitted themselves into a powerful kiss. He all but devoured her mouth, reveling in the feel of her thighs,belly and breasts, all plastered against his aching flesh.
    He encircled her waist, pulling in at the small of her back, bending her backward, kissing deeper as his free hand strummed from hip to waist over her rib cage to capture the soft mound of her breast.
    She groaned against his mouth, lips parting farther, her tongue answering the impassioned thrusts of his own. Her nipple swelled under his caress, fueling his desire and obliterating everything else from his brain. He bent his knee, shifting his thigh between hers, pushing up on her short skirt, settling against the silk of her panties.
    Her hands gripped his upper arms, nails scraping erotically against his thin shirt, transmitting her passion to the nerves of his skin. He lifted her, spreading her legs, hands cupping her bottom, shoving the skirt out of the way and pressing her heat against him.
    Her arms went around his neck, legs tightening, her lips hot on his, her silky hair flowing out in all directions around her shoulders. She braced her arms on his shoulders, fingers delving into his short hair. Her kisses moved from his mouth to his cheek, his chin and his neck. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, loosening them, before dipping her head and trailing her kisses across his chest.
    He tipped back his head, drinking in the heat and moisture of her amazing lips. Then he took a few steps sideways, behind the bale stack, screening them from the rest of the cavernous room. He shrugged out of his loose shirt, dropping it on a bale before settling her on top. He braced his arms on either side of her and pulled back to look.
    Her eyes were closed, lips swollen red. Her chestheaved with labored breaths, and his gaze