Christmas With the Mustang Man (7 page)

She broke off suddenly, dismayed that she'd allowed herself to pour out such things to him. A few more seconds and she would have been telling him about Allen and how he'd nearly suckered her into a loveless marriage, how he'd only wanted her money and how in the end he'd only fessed up because he couldn't give up the woman he'd really loved. God, what was she thinking? That was a humiliation she didn't talk about to anyone, much less a man she'd only met a few hours ago.

Pushing away from the cabinet she started to move past him and leave the room, but his hand snaked out and caught her by the arm. Stunned by the unexpected touch, she stared at him, and suddenly her heart was beating so fast she could feel it thumping in her throat, and pounding blood at her temples.

“You didn't finish,” he said gently.

To be this close to the man was like standing next to a flame, she thought. Heat was roaring off him, burn
ing her face, searing every nerve in her body. She could feel the intensity of his dark gaze as it slid ever so slowly across her cheeks and lips, down her throat, then back up to meet her eyes.

“I don't need to finish,” she said stiffly while trying to cool the rapid meltdown going on inside of her. “I shouldn't have gone off like that in the first place.”

This time he actually gave her a full-blown grin and for a few spectacular moments she felt everything inside her come to a jarring halt.

“Well,” he replied, “I'm glad to see you're not sorry—again.”

The moment his hand had touched her arm, the whole room had seemed to alter from a simple kitchen to a dark, forbidden territory. And something about Boone had changed, too. A subtle softening had eased his jaw and lowered his eyelids to seductive slits. To Dallas everything about him spelled sex.

“I think it's time I…go to my room.”

“You're probably right,” he murmured, “but there's something I should do before you go.”

Her lips parted to ask him what that “something” might be. But he didn't give her the chance to form the question. Still holding her arm, he tugged her slightly forward. Teetering on her feet, she thrust out her hands to prevent herself from falling straight into his arms. Her palms splattered against his broad chest and then the next thing she knew, his fingers were beneath her chin, and his lips settling softly over hers.

If she'd had time to anticipate his intentions, she might have escaped. But he'd not given her a moment's chance and even if he had, she doubted she would have found the will to avoid his kiss.

She certainly couldn't find it now as the taste of him
flooded her senses, commanded her thoughts to focus on him and only him.

Beneath the thick fabric of his shirt, the heat of his hard chest seeped into her palms. Scents of alfalfa, horses and man swirled together and filled her nostrils. Yet it was the consuming exploration of his lips that flung her senses straight up to the ceiling.

On and on the kiss went, or so it seemed to Dallas. And then his head suddenly lifted, putting an end to the mating of their lips. Dallas forced her eyelids to open and her gaze to focus on his face.

“Um—what was that?” she finally managed to ask.

The subtle twist of his lips caused her breath to catch, and she curled her fingers into her palms.

“A welcome to the White River Ranch.”

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Not because he'd kissed her, but because she'd kissed him back.

“Oh. Is that the sort of welcome you generally give your guests?”

He chuckled and the sound was almost as rich and reckless as his kiss had been. She resisted the urge to press the back of her hand against her burning lips.

“No. But the guests I get out here don't generally look like you.”

“Maybe you ought to get out more,” she suggested. “You must be starved for the sight of a woman.”

His face suddenly serious, he reached out and captured a strand of red hair lying near her breast. Dallas tried not to shiver as he tested its silky texture between the calloused pads of his fingertips.

“I'm starved for…a lot of things, Dallas.”

And so was she. That's why she had to escape the circle of his arms before she started clinging to him, begging him to kiss her one more time.

“Good night, Boone.”

As soon as she whispered the words, he dropped his hold on her hair and stepped back. Dallas didn't let herself linger, even for a moment. She whirled and ran from him.

T
he next morning Dallas awoke to see sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, slanting pale shafts of light across the end of the bed.

Oh, Lord, she'd slept past daylight! A good horseman never let that happen. Their work started early and ended late. No doubt Boone had been waiting for her and thinking the worst! Probably that she was the pampered sort who lounged in bed while the hired hands did all the work. Or even worse, he was thinking she was lying in bed in hopes that he would come to her room and take up where he'd left off last night.

Groaning with dismay, she flung back the covers and leapt from the warm bed. She didn't have time to think about Boone's kiss. Nor did she want to. Reliving it over and over in her mind for half the night was more than enough to make her feel like a sleep-deprived zombie this morning.

Besides, she didn't need to continue analyzing the incident and wondering why she'd responded to him like…well, a woman on the prowl. It was done and she couldn't take any of it back. Now all she could do was try to face him as though nothing had ever happened.

After a hurried shower, she pulled on jeans, boots and a green hooded sweatshirt, quickly braided her hair into a single tail down her back, then swiped on sunscreen and scurried out of the bedroom.

When she arrived in the kitchen it was empty and the only sign that anyone had been there before her was a half pot of coffee still on the warmer.

Even though it was only seven-thirty, Hayley had obviously already left for school. There was no sight or sound of her anywhere. Last night Dallas hadn't asked the girl how she got to school or even where the school was located. If Boone drove her every day, he might be gone from the ranch for a while.

Not taking time to linger over breakfast, she found a banana from a bowl on the table and after gobbling the piece of fruit and washing it down with a half cup of the strong coffee, she grabbed her ranch jacket and headed out of the house.

As soon as she stepped onto the screened-in back porch, freezing north wind blasted her face. Immediately, she fished gloves and a sock cap from the patch pocket on her jacket and slipped them on. Once she was protected, she trotted down the steps with the intention of heading to the barns, but the sound of a vehicle at the front of the house caught her attention and she abruptly changed directions.

When she rounded the house, she was stunned to see a wrecker had already backed up to the rear of her truck and a small man dressed in heavy, dark blue coveralls
was connecting the two vehicles with a wench. Boone was standing to one side, watching the whole process with a grim expression.

Dallas hurried over to him. “I see you've already called the wrecker,” she said in a voice loud enough to be heard above the idling diesel engine of the tow truck.

“I didn't see any point in waiting. I figured you'd want it fixed as soon as possible.”

He was right, Dallas thought. Still, it irked her that he'd taken on the task without bothering to ask her first. And though it was a ridiculous thought, something about seeing her only link to civilization being taken away left her feeling a bit desperate.

“I do want it repaired as quickly as possible,” she replied. “But can't he try working on it here first? Before going to the trouble of pulling it off to Pioche? Maybe it's just a wire, or something simple like that.”

“He's already tried,” Boone said. “And I'm sorry, but he doesn't think it's a simple problem. He says the truck will have to be hooked up to a diagnostic machine and then he'll know more. But I can assure you that Marti knows his business and he's very trustworthy.” Reaching for her elbow, he urged her toward the mechanic. “Come with me and I'll introduce you.”

From the agile way Marti Alvarez had been scampering around and beneath her truck, Dallas was expecting him to be a much younger man. But one close look at his wrinkled face told her that he had to be several years beyond standard retirement age.

Once Boone had made a quick introduction and Dallas had given the mechanic a handshake, she asked the dreaded question. “How long to get it fixed?”

“Can't tell you that, miss, until I figure out what the problem actually is. If I'm guessing right and the fuel
injector pump will have to be replaced, you're probably looking at two or three days. If a hole has been knocked in a piston, it'll take a lot longer.”

Dallas gasped with shock. “Two or three days! Or longer! But I can't be here for that long!” She cast a horrified glance at Boone, then turned her gaze back on the mechanic. “Look, I'll pay you extra if you'll work on it today.”

His smile indulgent, Marti swung his head back and forth. “I already plan to work on it today. I don't expect extra pay for that.”

“Yes, but if you have customers ahead of me—” She broke off, knowing she sounded like a spoiled, privileged person trying to buy her way with money.

“Other customers aren't the problem, miss. Parts have to be ordered and shipped. Not to mention a day for tearing down and a day for putting everything back.”

So she was well and truly stuck. The overwhelming thought made her want to wail with frustration. “Yes. I understand. And I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful.” She cast a furtive glance at Boone, then planted her focus back on the little mechanic. “Do you mind if I hitch a ride into town with you? I'll need a minute or two to gather up my things.”

“Sure, I—”

Before the mechanic could get the rest of his words out, Boone stepped up to intervene. “Forget it, Marti, Ms. Donovan won't be going with you.”

Stunned by Boone's interruption, she whirled on him. “What do you—”

Before she could finish, Boone caught her by the upper arm and pulled her a few steps away from Marti's earshot.

“What the hell are you thinking?” he demanded.

“Why the hell are you interrupting?” she shot back at him. “I don't have to tell you that I'm afoot! I have to get to town—”

“For what? You came to Nevada for horses,” he pointed out. “In case you've forgotten, they're not in town. They're here.”

Her mouth fell open. “What is this?” she asked furiously. “You've gone from kissing me to thinking you own me?”

A dull flush crept up his neck and jaws. “I'm trying to make sense here, that's all.”

Throwing up her hands in a hopeless gesture, she said, “Then you should understand that I need transportation. I need to rent a vehicle.”

“For what?”

Incredulous, Dallas stared at him. “To get back and forth from here to the hotel and—”

“What's the matter now?” he interjected. “The bed not comfortable enough? You were cold and needed more covers? Or you wanted room service?”

His light sarcasm caused her cheeks to blush red with anger, and her lips formed a thin line.

She wanted to shout at him that her sleepless night had nothing to do with the bed and everything to do with that damned kiss he'd planted on her. But she wasn't about to let him know that he'd affected her that deeply.

Blowing out a long breath, she clung to the last shreds of her composure. “I was perfectly comfortable. Thank you. But my food and lodging for this trip is not your responsibility. All I'm trying to do is get out of your hair.”

To her surprise, humor flickered in his eyes. “I don't think feeding one little woman for a few days will break me. And believe me, if you get in my hair, I'll let you know about it.”

Dallas had never been able to stay angry with anyone and as she looked at Boone she realized he was actually trying to help, even though he'd done it in a domineering way.

Allowing a faint smile to tilt her lips, she said, “I agree, it does make more sense for me to stay here, but I don't like the idea of taking advantage of your hospitality—that's all.”

“If you feel that badly about it, just tack a few more dollars on the check you write for the horses. Besides, Hayley will be thrilled to have you here.”

Hayley. Spending time with the girl last night had been more than enjoyable for Dallas. Though she couldn't understand or explain it, she'd felt an almost immediate bond with the child. The chance to be in her company a bit longer was enough to persuade Dallas to stay here on the ranch.

“All right, then. I'll tell Marti I don't need to hitch that ride after all.”

 

Five minutes later, the tow truck and Dallas's broken vehicle pulled away from the house and headed south, across the dusty, open range of White River Ranch. As Dallas watched her only means of independence disappear from sight, Boone stood a few steps away watching her.

“I forgot to tell you last night that I have to drive Hayley to the school bus stop every morning. It's ten miles away, so I'm usually gone for thirty or forty minutes. Same goes in the evening to pick her up. Did you find something for breakfast while I was out?”

“Yes, thanks.” Since he was unaware of exactly how late she'd slept, she wasn't going to admit that all she'd
had time to eat was a banana. “Do you and Hayley have breakfast together before she has to leave for school?”

A wan smile crossed his face, and not for the first time, Dallas noticed that he'd not bothered to shave this morning. The dark brown stubble that covered his jaws, chin and upper lip made him look almost as wild and rangy as the horses he trained, and as she looked at him, she couldn't help wondering how it would feel to have that stubble rubbed against her cheek and breasts, to feel its roughness beneath her lips…?.

Embarrassed by the erotic thoughts going through her head, she looked beyond his shoulder at the gathering clouds and tried to forget that the two of them were well and truly alone.

“Hayley would rather sleep than eat at five-thirty when I do. She takes something with her and eats it on the way to the bus stop,” he answered, then gestured in the direction of the barns. “Let's go have a look at the horses. I've already fed them so the kicking and maneuvering for special spots at the feed trough is already over with.”

He took off in a long stride and, grateful for anything to break her train of thought, Dallas hurried after him. They were almost to the barns and corrals when the black-and-white shepherd dog joined them.

Boone introduced her as Queenie and Dallas quickly dropped to a squat so she could greet the dog on her level. Sensing that Dallas was a friend, Queenie gave her a big canine welcome by placing a paw on each of her shoulders and licking her cheek.

Laughing, Dallas said, “I think she likes me.”

“Good thing. 'Cause she doesn't take well to strangers.”

Dallas gave the dog's head an affectionate rub before
straightening to her full height. “You know a friend when you see one, don't you, girl?”

Queenie barked as though she understood every word Dallas had uttered, then followed close on her heels as they moved on to the corral full of horses.

Next to her, Boone shook his head with disbelief. “I should've warned you beforehand that Queenie has been known to snap at people she doesn't like. But I didn't want you to appear afraid.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dallas said dryly. “What were you planning on doing, letting her bite my hand off?”

He chuckled. “No. I had a feeling that you had a way with animals.”

She cast him a droll look. “Maybe I do. But just be sure you don't neglect to warn me about an outlaw horse. I don't particularly want to be hospitalized with a broken bone while I'm waiting for my truck to be repaired.”

He feigned an offended look. “The only outlaw I own is my personal horse. He's mean. But so am I. So that makes us a good pair.”

Boone, mean? Domineering, perhaps, and a bit cynical, but not mean. Then again, one evening of light conversation, along with a very hot kiss, wasn't enough to show her every side of this Nevada rancher.

“Is that why you keep him?” she asked curiously. “Dad won't keep an outlaw on the place. He says you can feed a good horse for the same price you can feed a bad one.”

“Sounds like your father is a wise man.”

Dallas's chuckle was full of affection. “He's raised six kids. He's practical.”

A faint semblance of a smile touched his face. “Well, Chester is a good working ranch horse. He just happens to have an attitude. But I've learned to deal with that.”

Apparently dealing with Chester was easier than deal
ing with a wife with an attitude, Dallas thought. He'd made concessions for the horse, but not his wife? Or had the woman simply been impossible to deal with?

Forget it, she told herself. Forget what the man might have been like as a husband or what sort of husband he might be now.

But she couldn't forget. Not after that kiss he'd given her.

Pulling her gaze away from him, she turned it toward the corral and the small herd of horses. “I'm glad you have a bit of patience because I should warn you that I'm slow to make up my mind. It may take me a while to choose the mustangs I want to take back to New Mexico with me.”

“Take all the time you want,” he said. “I have all day. And from the looks of things, so do you.”

His lazily spoken observation only served to remind Dallas that the two of them were miles and miles from another human being and, even if she wanted, she had no way of getting off this ranch or away from him. Unless he offered her a way.

Trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach, she said, “Okay, I'll pick the ones that first catch my eye and then you can tell me about them.”

“Fine. Let's get to work.”

For the next two hours hour they walked among and around the thirty or so horses while Dallas studied each one for confirmation and attitude. Eventually, she chose six from the herd—a coal-black stallion, a sorrel filly with a blaze face, a little bay gelding that was hardly bigger than a pony, a brown mare with white socks, a shy chestnut filly and a buckskin gelding with a long, shaggy mane and forelock that covered his entire neck and most of his face.