Saddle Up by Victoria Vane Page B

mischievously. Miranda suspected she knew what was coming next.
    â€œ ‘But, Huttsi, what an enormous—’ ”
    â€œDon’t say it!” She covered his mouth. His chuckle warmed both her hand and her ears.
    â€œDon’t you want to know how it ends?” he asked.
    â€œI’m not certain I do.”
    â€œI’ll tell you anyway. He devours her bite by delectable bite.” He flashed another very wolfish smile. “You see?” His smile disappeared. “You are never safe with a wolf.”
    His lips were soft, smooth, and so very knowing as his mouth melded with hers with slow, toe-curling deliberation. There was nothing hurried or clumsy, none of the typical hesitancy, nose bumping, or teeth clashing of a first kiss. Taking her face in his hands, he deepened the kiss by tiny degrees, increasing pressure, adding licks and nips, teasing and torturing her until his hot tongue breached her mouth. Their tongues met, sliding and tangling—both a prelude and promise of so much more. She’d never been kissed by a man who knew how to give her everything she wanted, but Keith did.
    Shutting her eyes, she recalled a night spent in another desert when she’d driven down to Baja California for a project in time-lapse videography. After hours of scouting, she’d located a small growth of thin, inconspicuous, dead-looking branches hidden among a patch of scrub—a night-blooming cereus. After setting up cameras, she’d spent the night vigilantly watching for the desert queen to unfurl for its single night of glory. When the flower finally opened, it had perfumed the air with a sweet and delicate scent. She sat watching the flower until it had wilted and withered away with the first light of dawn. Watching that bloom come to life had been one her most memorable experiences.
    Keith made her feel very much like that desert flower waiting to bloom. She yearned to be touched…to be loved…and her resistance to him was fading fast. The kiss intensified, blinding her with blissful sensation. Nothing compared to the taste of his mouth, of his musky scent, of the feel of his warm hands on her skin. It was everything she’d hoped for and more. Any lingering doubts vaporized like a puff of breath in the cold night air.
    Her hands crept up to his chest, the heat of his skin permeating through the cotton of his shirt into her fingertips. She swallowed hard. A low growl broke the quiet of the night. Miranda froze. “What was that?”
    He tensed. “What was what ?”
    â€œThat sound.”
    Another growl was echoed by bloodcurdling shrieks from the two horses. Keith was instantly on his feet and shouldering his rifle. He took off running toward the horses while Miranda fumbled in the dark for the flashlight. She arrived at the scene just as a great shadow leaped through the air. She drew in a breath to scream but, paralyzed with terror, no sound emerged. The panic-stricken horses frantically kicked, reared, and hauled back on the picket line in their urgency to flee. The line snapped. The lamp crashed to the ground, casting the scene into darkness.
    â€œI can’t see anything!” Keith hissed. “Shine the light out there.”
    The narrow beam of her flashlight pierced the darkness, but not enough to help.
    â€œWhere is it?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know. Shit!” Keith fired a shot into the air, cocked the rifle again, and fired another.
    Miranda then shone the light on the ground beneath the picket line, where puddles of blood soaked the earth, trailing into the blackness beyond. She covered her mouth in horror. “Oh my God! What was it?”
    â€œA mountain lion,” he answered grimly. “With the way it leapt, it couldn’t be anything else.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” she asked.
    â€œNothing. He’s already made the kill.”
    â€œHow do you know? How can you be certain the animal