and I
was up to my ears in the ranch.” A slow
smile tugged at his mouth. “But I was
tempted, Rose. Far too tempted.”
He stepped back regretfully. He wanted
to wrap himself around her, kiss every inch
of her, because he missed that closeness.
Hell. She’d been gone less than half an
hour, and he missed her . There was a
message right there.
“Tell me something first, before we go
any further here,” she said quietly, standing
up and taking a step toward him.
He couldn’t help noticing the first . She
wasn’t done with him, and that made him
impossibly, fiercely glad.
“Ask,” he answered roughly. “You
know I’d never lie to you, darlin’. Sure”—
he held up a hand when she got her mouth
open to protest—“I’m guilty as hell of not
being as forthcoming as I should have
been. I shouldn’t have let you leave the
lawyer’s office without hearing the whole
of it. I did, and for that, I’m apologizing.”
She nodded, her hair sliding over her
shoulders. She hadn’t moved, though, so he
started wondering if he had to get on his
knees. Which would put him on a level
with her pretty little panties—and then he
wouldn’t be behaving himself anymore,
and he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing the
right thing.
“Tell me right now if last night was you
feeling guilty.”
“Hell, no,” he growled, and he tossed
his good intentions out the window.
Closing the small space between them, he
slid a hand up her neck to tangle in her
hair.
“We were together because you wanted
me,” she pressed. “And for no other
reason. Just me. You tell me that I’m
enough, that I’m good enough all by myself
here. If that’s not the truth, then you give
me the truth. Now.”
“Yeah.” His other hand stroked down
the straight curve of her spine, arching her
into him. Her hands were on his forearms,
hanging on but not pushing him away. “No
matter what happens between us now, you
think I’m ever forgetting last night? You let
me in, darlin’, all the way in. That’s
something a man doesn’t forget. That’s the
kind of memory I’m going to be
treasuring.”
“It was good,” she admitted wistfully.
“ We were good,” he countered roughly.
“You were downright perfect. Perfect for
me.”
“Really? You sure about the perfect?”
She peeked up at him, and there was that
look he loved so much. Pure sin and a little
bit of mischief. Christ. When had she
stolen his heart away from him? Because,
looking at her, he knew, clear as day, that
she had and that he wasn’t ever going to be
the same again. “That mean you want to
kiss me again?”
“Always,” he promised, meaning the
words more than she knew. Somehow,
somewhere, he’d gotten it bad. He’d fallen
for his Rose hard and completely.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Sit down for me,
Cabe?”
Before he could straighten out his
emotions or his words, she’d gotten her
hands wrapped in his shirt, turning him like
he was a reluctant calf in the chute. He
went willingly, his erection already
straining at his jeans. Hell, if she would
just stay here in Lonesome, he’d still be
jonesing for her in fifty years.
He loved Rose Jordan.
She pushed gently, and he sank down
obligingly on the picnic table where he’d
found her.
They were outside. On a picnic table.
Hell if he knew how he’d wound up in this
position, but there he was, seated on the
table’s top, while she got on his lap, facing
away from him. He regretted that little
distance, even while he enjoyed the sexy
position, his hands cupping her hips to
steady her.
“You still with me, Cabe?” she asked,
and he slid her hair away from her nape,
exposing the pale curve of her neck. The
white marks from bikini straps had him
fantasizing about stripping her naked.
She straddled him, her legs on either
side of his. Those long bare legs in those
too-short denim cut-offs were killing him,
and then her hands came down on
was up to my ears in the ranch.” A slow
smile tugged at his mouth. “But I was
tempted, Rose. Far too tempted.”
He stepped back regretfully. He wanted
to wrap himself around her, kiss every inch
of her, because he missed that closeness.
Hell. She’d been gone less than half an
hour, and he missed her . There was a
message right there.
“Tell me something first, before we go
any further here,” she said quietly, standing
up and taking a step toward him.
He couldn’t help noticing the first . She
wasn’t done with him, and that made him
impossibly, fiercely glad.
“Ask,” he answered roughly. “You
know I’d never lie to you, darlin’. Sure”—
he held up a hand when she got her mouth
open to protest—“I’m guilty as hell of not
being as forthcoming as I should have
been. I shouldn’t have let you leave the
lawyer’s office without hearing the whole
of it. I did, and for that, I’m apologizing.”
She nodded, her hair sliding over her
shoulders. She hadn’t moved, though, so he
started wondering if he had to get on his
knees. Which would put him on a level
with her pretty little panties—and then he
wouldn’t be behaving himself anymore,
and he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing the
right thing.
“Tell me right now if last night was you
feeling guilty.”
“Hell, no,” he growled, and he tossed
his good intentions out the window.
Closing the small space between them, he
slid a hand up her neck to tangle in her
hair.
“We were together because you wanted
me,” she pressed. “And for no other
reason. Just me. You tell me that I’m
enough, that I’m good enough all by myself
here. If that’s not the truth, then you give
me the truth. Now.”
“Yeah.” His other hand stroked down
the straight curve of her spine, arching her
into him. Her hands were on his forearms,
hanging on but not pushing him away. “No
matter what happens between us now, you
think I’m ever forgetting last night? You let
me in, darlin’, all the way in. That’s
something a man doesn’t forget. That’s the
kind of memory I’m going to be
treasuring.”
“It was good,” she admitted wistfully.
“ We were good,” he countered roughly.
“You were downright perfect. Perfect for
me.”
“Really? You sure about the perfect?”
She peeked up at him, and there was that
look he loved so much. Pure sin and a little
bit of mischief. Christ. When had she
stolen his heart away from him? Because,
looking at her, he knew, clear as day, that
she had and that he wasn’t ever going to be
the same again. “That mean you want to
kiss me again?”
“Always,” he promised, meaning the
words more than she knew. Somehow,
somewhere, he’d gotten it bad. He’d fallen
for his Rose hard and completely.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Sit down for me,
Cabe?”
Before he could straighten out his
emotions or his words, she’d gotten her
hands wrapped in his shirt, turning him like
he was a reluctant calf in the chute. He
went willingly, his erection already
straining at his jeans. Hell, if she would
just stay here in Lonesome, he’d still be
jonesing for her in fifty years.
He loved Rose Jordan.
She pushed gently, and he sank down
obligingly on the picnic table where he’d
found her.
They were outside. On a picnic table.
Hell if he knew how he’d wound up in this
position, but there he was, seated on the
table’s top, while she got on his lap, facing
away from him. He regretted that little
distance, even while he enjoyed the sexy
position, his hands cupping her hips to
steady her.
“You still with me, Cabe?” she asked,
and he slid her hair away from her nape,
exposing the pale curve of her neck. The
white marks from bikini straps had him
fantasizing about stripping her naked.
She straddled him, her legs on either
side of his. Those long bare legs in those
too-short denim cut-offs were killing him,
and then her hands came down on
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