wonder if she could kiss him again.
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, knowing he’d blame it on the sleep fog that still must have been clouding her brain.
“I asked if you could meet me in an hour at the big riding arena.” He dropped his gaze from her face to her chest, almost as if her thoughts had telegraphed themselves to him.
She nodded as a rush of heat suffused her. Like before, she suddenly became super conscious of the thin cotton of her shirt and her braless state, made even more evident by the fact that her nipples had decided to stand at attention, practically waving at him to notice them.
“That I can do,” she said with a touch more enthusiasm than necessary. “I’ll have to pass on your kind invitation to eat, but I’ll be there.”
Still he stood there, as if torn between leaving and climbing into bed with her. She felt an instant burning desire to lift the sheet in invitation. Horrified, mortified and more turned on that she should be, instead she pointedly glanced toward the door.
Finally he got the hint. Turning, he grasped the handle and pushed the door open. “Don’t be late,” he said, delivering his parting shot before shutting the door in her face.
Damn. Next time, she vowed, next time she wouldn’t let him come in. He could talk to her through the metal or not at all.
Breathing hard, she staggered into her tiny bathroom and splashed water on her face. Then she started the pot of coffee, and while it was brewing, she jumped in the shower.
Later, clean and dressed, with her hair still damp, she checked her watch. Chugging her second cup of coffee, she grabbed her secure cell phone from her backpack. She had time to make another report before meeting Matt.
Punching in a number, she waited until her boss answered.
Tersely, she relayed an abbreviated account of the events of the previous night, sticking strictly to the facts. Which were, basically, that she’d found nothing.
After she finished making her report and received the standard “Good job, keep looking,” she concluded the call and went into the small bathroom to dry her hair and put on a touch of makeup. She didn’t wear much, just mascara and lip gloss, so she was ready well before an hour had passed.
Stepping out into the bright sunshine, she inhaled, hating that the smoke and soot smell still lingered in the air, even overriding the normal earthy scents of a working horse-and-cattle ranch.
She hurried down toward the big outdoor arena, which meant she had to pass by the ruins of the barn. When she reached it, she stared at the charred beams—all that remained of the once beautiful structure.
The yellow crime-scene tape waved in the breeze and one or two investigators or fire department staff still picked through the rubble.
Skylar lifted one hand in a wave but didn’t stop to talk. Since she had her camera, she snapped a few quick photos before going on her way.
The big outdoor riding arena was just past the barn, though she had to cross a small paved parking lot and the ranch office. Inside the arena, Matt lunged one of his mares, so intent on his activity that he didn’t notice her approach.
Leaning on the railing, she watched. He wore jeans and a Western shirt, along with a Texas Rangers baseball cap. She’d be the first to admit he looked good, like every woman’s dream cowboy. Focused on the horse, he moved in unison with it, turning and waving the long whip just enough to keep the animal moving forward.
A wave of longing swamped her. Oh, how she’d missed this. There was a beauty to a horse’s gait, poetry in the flowing movements, legs and body and neck and head, pure grace.
With an aching that surprised her, she wondered if Matt would let her ride. She needed more than a stolen trail ride in darkness. She wanted to circle the arena and put the horse through all of its paces. Just once or twice, long enough to remind her of happier times.
For the first time, she realized she’d been able to
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, knowing he’d blame it on the sleep fog that still must have been clouding her brain.
“I asked if you could meet me in an hour at the big riding arena.” He dropped his gaze from her face to her chest, almost as if her thoughts had telegraphed themselves to him.
She nodded as a rush of heat suffused her. Like before, she suddenly became super conscious of the thin cotton of her shirt and her braless state, made even more evident by the fact that her nipples had decided to stand at attention, practically waving at him to notice them.
“That I can do,” she said with a touch more enthusiasm than necessary. “I’ll have to pass on your kind invitation to eat, but I’ll be there.”
Still he stood there, as if torn between leaving and climbing into bed with her. She felt an instant burning desire to lift the sheet in invitation. Horrified, mortified and more turned on that she should be, instead she pointedly glanced toward the door.
Finally he got the hint. Turning, he grasped the handle and pushed the door open. “Don’t be late,” he said, delivering his parting shot before shutting the door in her face.
Damn. Next time, she vowed, next time she wouldn’t let him come in. He could talk to her through the metal or not at all.
Breathing hard, she staggered into her tiny bathroom and splashed water on her face. Then she started the pot of coffee, and while it was brewing, she jumped in the shower.
Later, clean and dressed, with her hair still damp, she checked her watch. Chugging her second cup of coffee, she grabbed her secure cell phone from her backpack. She had time to make another report before meeting Matt.
Punching in a number, she waited until her boss answered.
Tersely, she relayed an abbreviated account of the events of the previous night, sticking strictly to the facts. Which were, basically, that she’d found nothing.
After she finished making her report and received the standard “Good job, keep looking,” she concluded the call and went into the small bathroom to dry her hair and put on a touch of makeup. She didn’t wear much, just mascara and lip gloss, so she was ready well before an hour had passed.
Stepping out into the bright sunshine, she inhaled, hating that the smoke and soot smell still lingered in the air, even overriding the normal earthy scents of a working horse-and-cattle ranch.
She hurried down toward the big outdoor arena, which meant she had to pass by the ruins of the barn. When she reached it, she stared at the charred beams—all that remained of the once beautiful structure.
The yellow crime-scene tape waved in the breeze and one or two investigators or fire department staff still picked through the rubble.
Skylar lifted one hand in a wave but didn’t stop to talk. Since she had her camera, she snapped a few quick photos before going on her way.
The big outdoor riding arena was just past the barn, though she had to cross a small paved parking lot and the ranch office. Inside the arena, Matt lunged one of his mares, so intent on his activity that he didn’t notice her approach.
Leaning on the railing, she watched. He wore jeans and a Western shirt, along with a Texas Rangers baseball cap. She’d be the first to admit he looked good, like every woman’s dream cowboy. Focused on the horse, he moved in unison with it, turning and waving the long whip just enough to keep the animal moving forward.
A wave of longing swamped her. Oh, how she’d missed this. There was a beauty to a horse’s gait, poetry in the flowing movements, legs and body and neck and head, pure grace.
With an aching that surprised her, she wondered if Matt would let her ride. She needed more than a stolen trail ride in darkness. She wanted to circle the arena and put the horse through all of its paces. Just once or twice, long enough to remind her of happier times.
For the first time, she realized she’d been able to
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