Something Wild by Patti Berg Page A

made him forget his troubles and made him hungry. He wanted her, which was pure hell for a man who couldn’t have every ounce of Charity Wilde unless he married her. Sheer agony for a man afraid of getting married again, because he knew in his heart that if he did, the guilt he couldn’t get rid of would someday rear its ugly head and rip his marriage apart.
    Keep your hands off of her. Look all you want. Just don’t touch.
    Easier said than done.
    Somehow he kept his distance, but he couldn’t stop looking. He studied the soft lines of Charity’s profile; the way short tendrils of her golden brown hair had sprung out from under the ridiculous stocking cap he’d insisted she wear; the way her lips tilted into a smile when a jackrabbit skittered across the dirt and snow, and the way she frowned when an osprey swooped from the sky, caught the rabbit in its claws and carried it away.
    He nudged Buck close to Charity and Jezebel and pointed out the track of a mountain lion, the bleached skeleton of an antelope, and the hazy shape of Devil’s Tower a good fifty miles away.
    “Lauren told me Jack’s ranch was huge, but I had no idea it would be this big.”
    “We left Jack’s place about a mile back. This is mine.” He stilled his mount and Charity did the same. He rested his gloved hands atop the saddle horn and stared at the vast stretch of land. “There aren’t any fences and you’d have to look awfully hard to find the property stakes, but a few thousand acres out here belong to me.”
    Her hazel eyes widened as they followed his gaze. “A few thousand?”
    “That’s not all that big, not by Wyoming standards, but it’s enough. Someday, when Jack’s son Beau takes over my job as manager, I’ll run my own cattle and horses out here. I won’t get rich, but money’s never been my priority.”
    Out of the corner of his eye he could see her frown. She found his statement hard to believe, but he could understand that, considering that she lived in Vegas, where money was everyone’s chief concern.
    “Haven’t you ever wanted to live somewhere else, do some other kind of work?” she asked.
    “All I’ve ever wanted is right here. Good friends. Two careers I love. A house I spent a few years building, and this land.” He breathed in the familiar scents of sage and icy snow, and caught a drift of Charity’s perfume again. She added something special to the prairie, something exotic, a unique brand of wildness. In spite of her stubbornness, he could get used to her hanging around.
    “What about you?” he asked. “Have you ever wanted anything besides a life in Vegas?”
    She shook her head. “What I didn’t want was the life I had.”
    “Hell-fire-and-brimstone, right?”
    “Sunday through Saturday, come rain or shine.” She laughed lightly. “There were good times, too, but my dad was determined to make me forget the life I’d led before he and my mom adopted me.”
    “How old were you?”
    “Five. I don’t remember much of anything before my folks took me in, but I never forgot the time I spent in Vegas with my real mom.”
    “A good time?”
    “My mom didn’t have any money, only an old truck, a bunch of glittery costumes she’d picked up at some thrift store, and me—her four-year-old ticket to riches and fame.” Charity tilted her head toward him and smiled. “I suppose it wasn’t the best of times for her, but I had fun.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Playing dress-up, wearing tons of sequins and jewels and makeup. My mom was sure I could be the next Shirley Temple if we could just get to Hollywood, but she needed money to get there, so she put me on a street corner, told me to sing and dance, and held out a hat for tips.”
    “You didn’t mind?”
    “I was a ham. I liked the bright lights and the showgirls I’d catch a glimpse of every now and then. I loved the applause and the way people tossed dollar bills into the hat and smiled when they watched me. We made pretty good money