question.
Her hand went to her head. "I suspected as much. There's not much I can do about it
without a mirror."
"You could let it down." Oh, yes.
"But then everyone would think..."
"Darlin', the way you look now, everyone will think it anyhow." He didn't mention her
kiss-swollen mouth, the whisker-burned cheeks. As long as she kept the next-to-top button of her
shirt in its hole, the love bite on her throat wasn't too obvious.
She stopped, right in the middle of the path. "If I do, will you help me do something
respectable with it?"
"I surely will." She worked a couple of dozen braids free, dropping hairpins in the path and
ignoring them. Her hands flickered through the molten silver, bright red nails flashing. He watched,
fascinated.
Her pink tongue caught in one corner of her mouth as she finger-combed her loosened
hair, taming it into a fairly smooth mass of waves cascading over her shoulders. Rock took a deep
breath, one that somehow seemed to catch in his chest. "I've got a comb," he said, his voice
sounding strained, even in his own ears.
She smiled. "Thanks. I'll use it." She held out her hand.
Rock pulled it from his hip pocket. "Let me. I can get the back better." If she refused, he
would not let her use the comb. He wanted to touch, to stroke, to smooth.
Genny flashed him a trusting smile and turned her back. Gently he drew the comb through
the heavy mass, finding snarls and carefully working them free. With each descent of the comb,
from her scalp to below her slim waist, he stroked his other hand behind. The feel of her hair sent
shivers of delight along his nerves, all the way to his gut, where they turned into waves of heat,
surges of desire.
"Rock, why did you look so...so angry, back there? Was something wrong?"
Tarnation! Did every woman have to talk about sex afterward? "I told you, nothing was
wrong. It was great. You were great." He found yet another tangle and stopped talking to
concentrate on it. Finally, "I was just worried that someone was gonna come along and surprise us.
That wouldn't have been funny." He forced mildness into his tone, not wanting to tell her how
extraordinary he felt, how fresh and new the world seemed. If he let her know how profoundly their
lovemaking had affected him, it would be like putting on a halter and handing her the lead.
"No," she said, slowly. "No it wouldn't." He could hear the doubt in her voice.
God! Seeing the hurt in her doe-brown eyes, he was reminded of a puppy he'd
once had. All it took was a harsh word and the poor little mutt was in abject despair.
"You seemed so far away," she said in a near-whisper. "As if you wanted to have nothing
more to do with me."
I shouldn't have anything more to do with you, darlin'.... The words echoed in his mind,
but he couldn't say them. He knew that now, his hunger for her satisfied, he should walk away from
Genny Forsythe, before he found himself caught in the same cleft stick his Pa had. The same one
Pancho seemed threatened by.
He couldn't. Not if his life depended on it.
He slipped an arm around her waist, again resisting the sense of rightness. "Your hair looks
fine. Shall we see if there's any dinner left for us?" He couldn't help grinning. She surely had made
him a satisfied man.
"Sounds good to me." She matched him, step for step, all the way back to the old
barn.
No one said a suggestive word to her. Genny couldn't believe it. Oh, some of the women,
particularly the younger ones, gave her curious looks when she and Rock walked into the old barn.
But she heard not a single comment on the state of her hair or clothing.
Of course, Rock fared not so well. The other cowboys were merciless.
"Don't you know you're s'posed to eat yore supper before you get dessert,
McConnell?"
"Trust Rock to hog the gazebo, so's none of the rest of us can have our turns."
"Slowin' down in your old age, huh, Rock? It used to take you about half as long, back
when you was a youngster."
"Which one of the posts was it you
Her hand went to her head. "I suspected as much. There's not much I can do about it
without a mirror."
"You could let it down." Oh, yes.
"But then everyone would think..."
"Darlin', the way you look now, everyone will think it anyhow." He didn't mention her
kiss-swollen mouth, the whisker-burned cheeks. As long as she kept the next-to-top button of her
shirt in its hole, the love bite on her throat wasn't too obvious.
She stopped, right in the middle of the path. "If I do, will you help me do something
respectable with it?"
"I surely will." She worked a couple of dozen braids free, dropping hairpins in the path and
ignoring them. Her hands flickered through the molten silver, bright red nails flashing. He watched,
fascinated.
Her pink tongue caught in one corner of her mouth as she finger-combed her loosened
hair, taming it into a fairly smooth mass of waves cascading over her shoulders. Rock took a deep
breath, one that somehow seemed to catch in his chest. "I've got a comb," he said, his voice
sounding strained, even in his own ears.
She smiled. "Thanks. I'll use it." She held out her hand.
Rock pulled it from his hip pocket. "Let me. I can get the back better." If she refused, he
would not let her use the comb. He wanted to touch, to stroke, to smooth.
Genny flashed him a trusting smile and turned her back. Gently he drew the comb through
the heavy mass, finding snarls and carefully working them free. With each descent of the comb,
from her scalp to below her slim waist, he stroked his other hand behind. The feel of her hair sent
shivers of delight along his nerves, all the way to his gut, where they turned into waves of heat,
surges of desire.
"Rock, why did you look so...so angry, back there? Was something wrong?"
Tarnation! Did every woman have to talk about sex afterward? "I told you, nothing was
wrong. It was great. You were great." He found yet another tangle and stopped talking to
concentrate on it. Finally, "I was just worried that someone was gonna come along and surprise us.
That wouldn't have been funny." He forced mildness into his tone, not wanting to tell her how
extraordinary he felt, how fresh and new the world seemed. If he let her know how profoundly their
lovemaking had affected him, it would be like putting on a halter and handing her the lead.
"No," she said, slowly. "No it wouldn't." He could hear the doubt in her voice.
God! Seeing the hurt in her doe-brown eyes, he was reminded of a puppy he'd
once had. All it took was a harsh word and the poor little mutt was in abject despair.
"You seemed so far away," she said in a near-whisper. "As if you wanted to have nothing
more to do with me."
I shouldn't have anything more to do with you, darlin'.... The words echoed in his mind,
but he couldn't say them. He knew that now, his hunger for her satisfied, he should walk away from
Genny Forsythe, before he found himself caught in the same cleft stick his Pa had. The same one
Pancho seemed threatened by.
He couldn't. Not if his life depended on it.
He slipped an arm around her waist, again resisting the sense of rightness. "Your hair looks
fine. Shall we see if there's any dinner left for us?" He couldn't help grinning. She surely had made
him a satisfied man.
"Sounds good to me." She matched him, step for step, all the way back to the old
barn.
No one said a suggestive word to her. Genny couldn't believe it. Oh, some of the women,
particularly the younger ones, gave her curious looks when she and Rock walked into the old barn.
But she heard not a single comment on the state of her hair or clothing.
Of course, Rock fared not so well. The other cowboys were merciless.
"Don't you know you're s'posed to eat yore supper before you get dessert,
McConnell?"
"Trust Rock to hog the gazebo, so's none of the rest of us can have our turns."
"Slowin' down in your old age, huh, Rock? It used to take you about half as long, back
when you was a youngster."
"Which one of the posts was it you
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