Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [61]
“What? No. Thrown, but why—?” She looked as if she might be offended; her words seemed to tangle in her throat and her cheeks flushed an enticing shade of pink. “Where’s Ink Spot—?” Anxiously she scanned the ridge where boulders and late-blooming wildflowers erupted from the dusty ground.
“She’s fine.” He hitched his chin in the direction of the two horses who, calming, had begun to pick at the sparse blades of bleached grass. He told himself to back off. They were too close; it had been too long since he’d been with a woman.
“I…I must’ve dropped off.” Maggie, obviously embarrassed, stood quickly and brushed the dirt and grass from her shorts. “What time is it?”
“A little after three. You need to be somewhere?”
“No.” She shook her head and glanced at the threatening sky. “Not for a while. I’m supposed to be at work at five-thirty.”
“Then we’ve got some time.” He heard the words and silently cursed himself.
“For what?” she asked.
“Whatever it is you want, Maggie.”
She looked down at him, still squatted on the ground, and he watched her throat work. “What is it you think I want?”
“Someone to talk to.”
“Oh, yeah?” She crossed her arms over her chest as if she was about to argue with him, so he slowly rose and stood, regaining the height advantage. “Why is it you’re always telling me what I need or want?”
“You asked.”
“I know but you’re always…giving me advice. I don’t remember ever asking for any.”
“Sit down, Maggie.”
She angled her chin up and stared at him. “Why?”
He gave no answer, because he had none. Instead he linked his fingers with hers, saw denial forming in her eyes, and ignored it as he pulled them both to the ground again. Refusing to listen to the warning bells clanging in his mind, he stared into those wide, innocent, and oh-so-seductive eyes. “I’d just like to get to know you.”
She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Looking at him, she rested her chin on her knees and watched him with thinly veiled suspicion. “So, what’re you doin’ up here?”
He thought about lying, making up some excuse as he rocked back on his heels. There were lots of odd jobs that he could claim needed his attention—the fence, downed trees, trespassers—but he thought better of it and tried to keep his gaze from wandering along her legs, up, past the bend of her knee where her thighs disappeared beneath the ragged hemline of her shorts and the tiniest bit of panty lace was visible. “I came looking for you,” he admitted.
“For me?” She was wary, disbelief obvious in her eyes.
“Uh-huh.”
“Why?”
“You left the stable a couple of hours ago, and I thought it was time…that maybe something had happened.” And I want to make love to you. Damn it, girl, run. Run now!
“Oh.” Disappointment clouded her gaze. Her lips twisted into a little, crestfallen pout. Her teeth sank lower into her lip, and he wondered how it would feel to kiss her, to touch her, to run his hands along the smooth flesh of her arms and legs and…“Well, you found me. I’m fine. And I really think it’s time I should be going.” She started to rise, and he should have let her, just let her climb on that damned black-and-white mare and ride down the trail to the ranch house. But he didn’t.
Instinctively he reached out, the fingers of one hand surrounding her bare arm. Her muscles flexed beneath his fingers. Her head snapped up. The pupils of her eyes dilated a bit, but she didn’t draw away.
“Stay a while.”
“Why?” He saw her throat work as she swallowed. She was nervous, nervous as hell. So was he. He shouldn’t be doing this, talking to her, touching her.
“We could get to know each other.”
“Why?” Again, that damned question.
He hesitated just a second. Thought hard. His fingers tightened over her arm. “Because, Maggie,” he said, his eyes searching the jade green of hers, “because I want to.” He leaned forward just a bit, so that his face was closer to hers, close enough to sense her breath catch. “Because you want to.”
Her gaze skittered to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and the innocent desire