Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ Then she tripped into the hallway of her room, turned and shut the door in his handsome face.

      “’Night, Willa,” he said from the other side. With her cheek pressed against the door panel, she heard him whistling as he moved further down the hall, toward 343. The whistling stopped, and she could visualize Daniel focusing on getting the key card into the slot correctly.

      “Damn.” He said the word softly, but with feeling. In another second, he swore again…and again, with more force.

      Willa opened her door and peered down the hall. Daniel stood at the very end, next to the emergency exit, jabbing his key card into the lock.

      He glanced back her way. “It won’t open.” Growling low in his throat, he raised a fist to pound on the door. “Dammit, the damn key won’t work.”

      As he drew back his arm for another round of pounding, the door panel flew open. A short, round-bellied, gray-haired man stood on the threshold in a T-shirt and red plaid boxer shorts. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      Daniel barely managed to avoid punching the guy in the face. The effort sent him staggering backward, up against the opposite wall. “This is my room!”

      “This damn sure isn’t your room. And if you don’t shut up and get out I’m going to call security and the cops!” The door slammed shut.

      Daniel closed his eyes and dropped his spinning head back against the wall. “Why is he in my room? Where am I gonna sleep?” He hadn’t been drunk in a long, long time. He hadn’t been this frustrated in even longer.

      Cool fingers closed around his wrist. “Come on,” Willa said as he opened his eyes. “You can call the front desk from my room and find out what’s going on.”

      Her touch soothed him like a soft salve on a hot burn. Blowing out a deep breath, Daniel followed without argument. Inside her dimly lit room, he dropped to sit on one of the beds and punched O on the phone. “This is Daniel Trent. I’m trying to get into my room—my key won’t work and there’s a guy already in there. What’s going on?”

      A bored voice asked, “What room number is that, Mr. Trent?”

      “My room. 343. Why is there someone else in my room?”

      After a pause, the voice said, “Um…that’s not your room, Mr. Trent. You’ve mistaken the number.”

      Daniel swore. “Well, what’s the right number?”

      Another hesitation. “I can’t tell you that over the phone, Mr. Trent. If you’ll come down to the front desk and produce some I.D., we’ll be happy to give you the room number.”

      “Oh, for God’s sake. It’s just a room. Tell me the number and let me go to bed!”

      “I can’t do that without being certain of who you are. Our guests’ security—”

      Daniel grunted and hung up the phone. “Great. I have to go back downstairs and give them some I.D. before they’ll tell me what room I’m in.”

      Willa sat on the other bed, facing him, frankly laughing. “You’ve forgotten your room number?”

      He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t had that much alcohol in quite a while.” Propping his cane in front of him, he pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll get out of your—”

      The stick tilted. His head swirled, his balance deserted him and suddenly he was falling forward. Toward Willa. Daniel managed to twist enough to avoid landing on her, but his weak leg wouldn’t support his weight. He bounced onto the mattress beside her.

      Laughing hard, Willa fell back to lie beside him.

      “I didn’t do that on purpose,” Daniel said. “I told you—”

      “I know. We’ve both had too much to drink.” She wiped her eyes, still laughing. “What a disaster.”

      “Yeah.” He propped himself on an elbow and looked down at her. “You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

      She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “That’s quite a line.”

      “No line.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “Soft. Smooth.”

      “Daniel…”

      “You can stop me,” he told her as he leaned closer. “Just say no.” A slight press of his fingers turned her face toward his. He brushed his lips across hers. “Just say no.”

      He made another pass across that wide, generous mouth, but he didn’t hear a word. Her hand came up and cupped the back of his neck, bringing him even closer. And then he was kissing Willa Mercado for all he was worth.

      Willa couldn’t believe how good it felt. How good he felt. The size and weight of him, the warmth of him surrounding her, seemed like a miracle. She’d been so cold for so long.

      His mouth skimmed hers, lingered, plundered. He tasted of tequila and lime, but also something essentially, basically male. He smelled like soap and clean clothes and good man. As he kissed his way across her cheek and down her throat, she buried her face in the bend of his neck and breathed deeply of that wonderful scent.

      Like magic, the buttons of her blouse came undone. For a second the air chilled her bare skin, but then Daniel chased the cold away, pressing kisses on her breast bone, the balls of her shoulders, the hollow between her breasts and everywhere in between. Willa sighed, and in the next moment her bra disappeared. First his hand claimed her and then his mouth, and she cried out at the shock of pleasure.

      She went a little crazy after that, desperate for more of…well, everything. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and she gave up after the second one to pull the damn thing over his head. To her surprise, he wore a plain white T-shirt underneath, yet another barrier. When she reached for the hem, though, Daniel drew back.

      “Don’t,” he said raggedly, and bent to kiss the inner curve of her elbow. “I’m not nearly as gorgeous as you are.”

      Willa gasped at the stroke of his tongue against her skin, and forgot to argue with him. A few minutes later he eased her slacks over her hips. Once he’d dragged his palm along the length of her legs, she wasn’t sure she remembered her own name.

      “Daniel,” she whispered, arching closer, wrapping a leg around his hips to draw him nearer still. Hard met soft, and she moaned. “Please. Please, tell me we don’t have to stop.”

      She heard his low chuckle, saw a flash of that fabulous grin. He backed off enough to unfasten and strip off his jeans.

      “Not a chance. I was a Boy Scout.” He jerked his wallet out of the discarded pants and pulled out a duo of condoms. In the second he used to break open one package, Willa stroked her hand up his thigh, underneath the hem of his pale blue boxers.

      Instead of the smooth skin and firm muscle she expected, the flesh she touched was a landscape of ridges and valleys, hard and harsh.

      Daniel froze, and she looked at him in horror. “My God,” Willa said. “Those are…scars?”

      He nodded, then took a deep СКАЧАТЬ