Read Online The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joan Johnston
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Romance, Contemporary, Saga, Adult, consequences, Danger, Terrorism, Summer, wedding, second chance, trial, Sacrifice, Rejection, Past, family drama, Protect, socialite, Threat, Bitter Creek, Federal Judge, Daring
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her fears were groundless, because he gathered the reins and his mount stepped out in an easy walk. She couldn’t let go even then, because it would have been obvious that she was afraid of him.
Jocelyn cringed as he whistled sharply, calling to one of his cowhands, “Take Whitey. We won’t be needing him.”
She waited for North to chastise or criticize her, but he remained silent. Jocelyn was grateful for the slow tempo of the ride, but she had too much time to be aware of the play of muscle and sinew under her hands and the not unpleasant hardworking-man smell of North’s shirt.
“We’re here,” he announced at last, halting his stallion. “You ready to get down?”
She was more than ready, but still embarrassed by the whole incident with Whitey. “Yes,” she mumbled to his back.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he wrapped the reins around the saddle horn, lifted one leg over the saddle, and slid to the ground. Then he turned and grabbed her waist with both hands and pulled her off the horse, letting her slide down his body.
She backed up so quickly she stumbled, and he reached out and steadied her. Jocelyn wished she’d never agreed to a stupid swim. As she stood there, embarrassed by her gaucheness, he turned away and ground-tied his horse, which was already lipping the tall, green grass.
Jocelyn turned her back on him and found herself suddenly entranced by the idyllic setting. Tall cotton-woods surrounded the pond and the branch of an enormous live oak extended out over the water with a rope attached to it that was obviously used as a swing from which to drop into the water.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“I’ve always thought so,” he replied.
The water was surprisingly clear, and Jocelyn could see small fish swimming in it. Large flat rocks edged the pond, making a convenient place to lie in the sun, and a turtle was sunning itself on the bank.
When she turned to face North, she realized he’d already pulled his boots off and was working on his belt buckle. She quickly turned her back and heard the continuing sound of clothing being removed. She struggled to keep her voice calm as she asked, “Are you really going to swim in the nude?”
“Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he said.
She could hear the laughter in North’s voice, and then a loud splash. When she turned, she saw his feet disappearing into the water. She waited a long time for him to reappear, long enough to become anxious.
When he did come up, he erupted from the water grinning, and swiped his hair back from his raw-boned face. “You gonna stand there all day?”
The water looked wonderfully inviting. If only she had something to wear! Then she realized that just because North had removed every stitch of clothing didn’t mean she had to do the same. She took a deep breath and began to unsnap the fancy western shirt. “You could turn around,” she said.
“I could. But I’m not going to,” he replied, paddling to keep himself in place in the water.
She stopped, the shirt unsnapped, but not pulled from her jeans. “Why not?”
“You figure it out.”
He wanted to see what he’d paid for, she realized. Well, he was going to be disappointed. Jocelyn pulled the shirt from her jeans, unsnapped the cuffs, and pulled the shirt off, folding it neatly and laying it on a nearby flat, hip-high rock.
Then she sat on the rock and pulled off her boots and socks. She stood with her back to the pond while she unbuckled her belt and unzipped her jeans and shimmied out of them, picking them up and folding them equally neatly and setting them on the rock. She looked ruefully at the lacy white bra and white silk bikini panties she was wearing—she didn’t own anything less provocative—and strode into the water.
“As you can see,” she said, “I’m not skinny-dipping with you. All the important parts are completely—This is ice cold!” she protested, stopping knee-deep in the pond.
“It’s
Jocelyn cringed as he whistled sharply, calling to one of his cowhands, “Take Whitey. We won’t be needing him.”
She waited for North to chastise or criticize her, but he remained silent. Jocelyn was grateful for the slow tempo of the ride, but she had too much time to be aware of the play of muscle and sinew under her hands and the not unpleasant hardworking-man smell of North’s shirt.
“We’re here,” he announced at last, halting his stallion. “You ready to get down?”
She was more than ready, but still embarrassed by the whole incident with Whitey. “Yes,” she mumbled to his back.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he wrapped the reins around the saddle horn, lifted one leg over the saddle, and slid to the ground. Then he turned and grabbed her waist with both hands and pulled her off the horse, letting her slide down his body.
She backed up so quickly she stumbled, and he reached out and steadied her. Jocelyn wished she’d never agreed to a stupid swim. As she stood there, embarrassed by her gaucheness, he turned away and ground-tied his horse, which was already lipping the tall, green grass.
Jocelyn turned her back on him and found herself suddenly entranced by the idyllic setting. Tall cotton-woods surrounded the pond and the branch of an enormous live oak extended out over the water with a rope attached to it that was obviously used as a swing from which to drop into the water.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“I’ve always thought so,” he replied.
The water was surprisingly clear, and Jocelyn could see small fish swimming in it. Large flat rocks edged the pond, making a convenient place to lie in the sun, and a turtle was sunning itself on the bank.
When she turned to face North, she realized he’d already pulled his boots off and was working on his belt buckle. She quickly turned her back and heard the continuing sound of clothing being removed. She struggled to keep her voice calm as she asked, “Are you really going to swim in the nude?”
“Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he said.
She could hear the laughter in North’s voice, and then a loud splash. When she turned, she saw his feet disappearing into the water. She waited a long time for him to reappear, long enough to become anxious.
When he did come up, he erupted from the water grinning, and swiped his hair back from his raw-boned face. “You gonna stand there all day?”
The water looked wonderfully inviting. If only she had something to wear! Then she realized that just because North had removed every stitch of clothing didn’t mean she had to do the same. She took a deep breath and began to unsnap the fancy western shirt. “You could turn around,” she said.
“I could. But I’m not going to,” he replied, paddling to keep himself in place in the water.
She stopped, the shirt unsnapped, but not pulled from her jeans. “Why not?”
“You figure it out.”
He wanted to see what he’d paid for, she realized. Well, he was going to be disappointed. Jocelyn pulled the shirt from her jeans, unsnapped the cuffs, and pulled the shirt off, folding it neatly and laying it on a nearby flat, hip-high rock.
Then she sat on the rock and pulled off her boots and socks. She stood with her back to the pond while she unbuckled her belt and unzipped her jeans and shimmied out of them, picking them up and folding them equally neatly and setting them on the rock. She looked ruefully at the lacy white bra and white silk bikini panties she was wearing—she didn’t own anything less provocative—and strode into the water.
“As you can see,” she said, “I’m not skinny-dipping with you. All the important parts are completely—This is ice cold!” she protested, stopping knee-deep in the pond.
“It’s
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