Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [60]
Thane finally caught sight of the piebald grazing, white-and-black tail switching at flies, riderless among a copse of scraggly oak and eucalyptus trees. With a sense of satisfaction he urged his mount, Buster, forward and ignored the spark that fired in his blood whenever he was around Maggie.
He’d known that she’d taken Ink Spot out this afternoon. Hell, he’d sensed her presence the minute she’d shown up at the ranch sometime around noon, and he’d been barely able to concentrate since. There was something about her that he found fascinating, more than that really, she was downright tempting. There were a dozen reasons he should avoid her like the plague. She was too young, a kid, not quite eighteen. She was a princess, lived in the pricey part of town, wheeled around with that snotty twin of hers in a goddamned BMW and sometimes a Mercedes. She was his boss, in a manner of speaking, and she had a smart mouth on her, the kind of girl or woman he usually detested.
Besides that, he had his own demons to deal with. He couldn’t get close to anyone and reminded himself that she was way out of his league. If she had any inkling as to his past…if anyone did…The dark part of his soul opened for a second, let in a little shaft of light, then withered away again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t outrun his past. Sooner or later it would catch up with him.
That was the bottom line; he couldn’t get involved with a woman, especially a girl who’d been raised to expect the better things in life. It was just too damned dangerous.
And yet he’d found it impossible to stay away from her. As if she were Eve in the garden of Eden, he was tempted. Sorely tempted. To the point that just looking at her brought a stiff erection that was damned near painful as it pushed against the button fly of his Levi’s.
Lately his nights had been assailed with images of her and he’d fantasized about her, even while alone in his unmade bed, with only his hand as comfort. He’d thought about the flash of defiance in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, curve of her mouth, and the way she chewed on the corner of her lip whenever she was nervous. Though he’d tried not to, he hadn’t been able to ignore that her breasts would fit snugly into a man’s palm or that her buttocks were round, firm, and usually tense.
Now, as he approached the shadowed grove, a black-and-white magpie screeched, its yellow beak open wide in the branches above the ridge where Maggie lay.
She was stretched out on her side, her eyes closed, and his heart seized at the thought that perhaps she’d been thrown, struck her head on a rock, and lay either dead or unconscious. Jaw clenched, he dropped the reins, dismounted quickly, and knelt at her side. “Maggie? Hey.” He touched her shoulder, felt her warm skin beneath his fingers and the prickle of desire that came with it. “Hey, kid, are you all right?”
As she roused and her eyes blinked open, he was taken with the depth of her gaze, the green of her eyes, so vibrant and alive, the dark fringe of lashes.
She let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead in the next county.
“Maggie—”
Quickly she struggled to a sitting position.
Both horses spooked, neighing nervously.
“Shh!” His fingers tightened over her shoulder, and he felt the warmth of her seep into his blood.
“Wha—oh, God!” Her hand covered the spot where her blouse closed over a top button and where, he presumed, her heart was pumping wildly. Between her splayed fingers he caught a glimpse of skin, of cleavage where the lapels gaped.
His crotch tightened painfully.
“Damn it, Walker, you scared the devil out of me!”
“I didn’t mean to, but—” He dropped his hand and felt like a damned fool. His jaw hardened, and he forced the desire that had already started burning in his blood to cool. He wanted her. Hell, he’d wanted her from the first second he’d seen her walking at the side of the road in those tight little