teaching her how to shoot a slingshot. He kept thinking of the look on her face when he told her not to come by. A brief look of surprise, then a quick cover-up, a proud tilt of the chin, and low and behold she was busy, too. In the high desert dawn, he leaned against the narrow chute next to his corral and steadied his newest wild horse.
“Come on, babe. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured waiting his chance to throw a halter on her. She was a proud little critter, with excellent possibilities. Just like Bridget.
Dammit, why couldn’t he get that woman out of his mind? Why did everything remind him of her? He’d even dreamed about her the past two nights. One night was understandable. After all, she was the first woman who’d penetrated his home and his defenses since Molly died. But two nights in a row? And each dream more erotic than the last.
Then Max had to ask about her every day. Where was she, when was she coming back. He wanted to show her how good he was with his slingshot, how he could ride his bike no-handed down the driveway. He wanted her to see Barney, his pet rat. Fortunately Max had gone to play with a friend today, so he could finally get some peace and quiet and get to work. But he couldn’t concentrate on haltering the horse.
Instead he was standing there staring off into space, thinking about Bridget. Remembering her sitting across the dinner table from him, not knowing what to say to her. Wanting her to go, yet wanting her to stay. Wondering when she was going to show up again with her camera around her neck, her tawny, windblown hair and her nonstop questions.
He looked around. Except for sound of hoof beats as his horses raced across the field in the distance, there was absolute silence. Just the way he liked it. But more than the silence, there was a hush in the air this morning. As if something was about to happen. Even his horse stopped stomping her hooves and pointed her ears forward, listening, waiting and watching. They were sensitive, the best of the wild mustangs, and this one was no exception. He smiled to himself. Yes, he’d made the right choice and got himself one hell of a good horse.
Why couldn’t he be content with that? He’d been perfectly happy these past two years, raising Max and horses on his own. Well, maybe not happy, but content Now, since she’d arrived, he wanted more. What exactly he wanted he refused to think about.
His mind drifted back to the other evening out on the grass when he’d seized an excuse to put his arms around her. He couldn’t get over how soft and sweet she was. How she’d melted into his arms like warm taffy and stayed there. If it weren’t for Max they might still be there, locked together, watching the sun set and rise and set again. Because he didn’t want to let her go. He might be wrong but he didn’t think she wanted to go, either. All the more reason not to encourage her. All the more reason to ignore her. Ignore a feisty package of guts and determination who at a moment’s notice could turn deliciously sweet and supple in his arms? No way.
He glanced at the sky as if he could see Molly’s puzzled face in the clouds. Talk about guilt. She’d never forgive him for such traitorous thoughts. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself, and to Molly, too, if she was listening.
As if Molly was testing him, or maybe he was just testing himself, he heard the sound of a car in the distance. His horse heard it, too. It could have been anybody. But it wasn’t. It was her. She pulled into his driveway and slammed her car door. He turned back to his horse, trying once again to halter her. But his horse was as jumpy as he was and refused his attempts.
When he glanced up she was there. Backlit against the sun, her body was outlined in gold sunlight He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at her as if she’d stepped out of his dream. But she was real, just as real as she’d been the other
“Come on, babe. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured waiting his chance to throw a halter on her. She was a proud little critter, with excellent possibilities. Just like Bridget.
Dammit, why couldn’t he get that woman out of his mind? Why did everything remind him of her? He’d even dreamed about her the past two nights. One night was understandable. After all, she was the first woman who’d penetrated his home and his defenses since Molly died. But two nights in a row? And each dream more erotic than the last.
Then Max had to ask about her every day. Where was she, when was she coming back. He wanted to show her how good he was with his slingshot, how he could ride his bike no-handed down the driveway. He wanted her to see Barney, his pet rat. Fortunately Max had gone to play with a friend today, so he could finally get some peace and quiet and get to work. But he couldn’t concentrate on haltering the horse.
Instead he was standing there staring off into space, thinking about Bridget. Remembering her sitting across the dinner table from him, not knowing what to say to her. Wanting her to go, yet wanting her to stay. Wondering when she was going to show up again with her camera around her neck, her tawny, windblown hair and her nonstop questions.
He looked around. Except for sound of hoof beats as his horses raced across the field in the distance, there was absolute silence. Just the way he liked it. But more than the silence, there was a hush in the air this morning. As if something was about to happen. Even his horse stopped stomping her hooves and pointed her ears forward, listening, waiting and watching. They were sensitive, the best of the wild mustangs, and this one was no exception. He smiled to himself. Yes, he’d made the right choice and got himself one hell of a good horse.
Why couldn’t he be content with that? He’d been perfectly happy these past two years, raising Max and horses on his own. Well, maybe not happy, but content Now, since she’d arrived, he wanted more. What exactly he wanted he refused to think about.
His mind drifted back to the other evening out on the grass when he’d seized an excuse to put his arms around her. He couldn’t get over how soft and sweet she was. How she’d melted into his arms like warm taffy and stayed there. If it weren’t for Max they might still be there, locked together, watching the sun set and rise and set again. Because he didn’t want to let her go. He might be wrong but he didn’t think she wanted to go, either. All the more reason not to encourage her. All the more reason to ignore her. Ignore a feisty package of guts and determination who at a moment’s notice could turn deliciously sweet and supple in his arms? No way.
He glanced at the sky as if he could see Molly’s puzzled face in the clouds. Talk about guilt. She’d never forgive him for such traitorous thoughts. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself, and to Molly, too, if she was listening.
As if Molly was testing him, or maybe he was just testing himself, he heard the sound of a car in the distance. His horse heard it, too. It could have been anybody. But it wasn’t. It was her. She pulled into his driveway and slammed her car door. He turned back to his horse, trying once again to halter her. But his horse was as jumpy as he was and refused his attempts.
When he glanced up she was there. Backlit against the sun, her body was outlined in gold sunlight He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at her as if she’d stepped out of his dream. But she was real, just as real as she’d been the other