Cherokee Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

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СКАЧАТЬ he thought. Sugarcoated lust.

      Kissing Julianne wouldn’t change who he was or what he’d done to Sharon. It wouldn’t restore his honor or the broken vow he’d made to his wife’s family.

      It would only be a balm, temporary relief for what would never quit ailing him.

      But that didn’t make his desire, the hunger, any less real.

      “Where were we?” he asked, doing his damnedest to break the spell, to get back on track, to quit staring at her mouth.

      “We were…” About to kiss, Julianne thought. Or so it had seemed. But she couldn’t be sure. She’d been out of practice for far too long.

      “We were talking about Caballero,” she said, suddenly recalling where they’d left off. “About him being a boy. And about how old he is.” She turned to the horse and tried to gain control of her senses. She’d lain awake most of the night, considering an affair with Bobby.

      A fun, fast, fulfilling fling.

      “Oh, yeah.” He turned to the horse, too. “First of all, he’s a gelding, a castrated male.”

      Julianne merely nodded. She wasn’t about to comment on the poor beast’s castration.

      “Caballero is a registered quarter horse,” Bobby went on to say. “And his date of birth is on his papers. But a horse’s teeth can determine its age. The wearing surface changes as they grow older.”

      “That makes sense.” She reached out to stroke the gelding’s nose, and the horse bobbed his approval.

      Bobby glanced her way and once again their gazes locked. Softly, gently. Like a breath of spring.

      Her cousins were right. She did need to get on with her life. To bask in the warmth and glory of a rough, rugged cowboy.

      “Are you ready?” he asked.

      To touch him? To lie beside his long-limbed, leanly muscled body?

      “Yes,” she said.

      He reached for a nylon article hanging beside the stall. “This is a halter.” He opened the door, entered the stall and buckled the horse into the headgear.

      He led Caballero toward the barn door, and then stopped to say something in Spanish to a young Latino ranch hand, who looked at Julianne and nodded his head.

      Once they were outside, Bobby tied the gelding to a hitching post. Julianne remained by his side, watching everything he did.

      Yes, she thought. Yes. She wanted Bobby Elk. She wanted those big, calloused hands all over her.

      The ranch hand appeared with a saddle and left it on a rack. Bobby thanked the young man in English and received a Spanish response.

      After the ranch hand departed, he saddled the horse, explaining the process, naming the tack. Julianne listened, but now and then her mind drifted. Back to Bobby’s hands. Back to the fantasy of his touch.

      “What are you hoping to gain from your first lesson?” he asked, tightening the girth. “What do you want out of this?”

      You, she wanted to say. “Just the basics. So I can take one of the guided tours into the hills and feel comfortable.” She paused, brushed a stray hair away from her face. A few strands were coming loose from her ponytail. “Do you give those tours?”

      He nodded. “I’m taking a group out tomorrow morning.”

      She didn’t want to share him with a group. “Can I book a private tour instead?”

      “Yes, but it’ll have to be on Thursday. That’s the only day I’m free. My schedule is pretty tight this week.”

      She imagined being alone with him in the hills, surrounded by the scent of wildflowers and the warmth of the wind. “Then Thursday, it is. Now all I have to do is learn to ride.”

      He finished tacking up the gelding. “Are you nervous?”

      She shook her head, glanced at the gold band on Bobby’s finger.

      “It’s important to relax,” he said. “To let the horse know you’re in control.”

      As Bobby led Caballero, Julianne walked beside him, wondering how long he’d been married. Death had to be more stressful than divorce. She’d given up her wedding ring easily. Heck, she’d even considered flushing the meaningless thing down the toilet, but had opted to pawn it instead.

      Once they were in the arena, she tried to clear her mind. But as she waited for the riding instruction to begin, she took an anxious breath.

      Bobby studied her from her under the brim of his hat, the sun shining in his face. “I thought you weren’t nervous, Julianne.”

      Okay, so maybe she was. But not about mounting the gelding. “Honestly, I’m fine.” Just suddenly scared to death about the decision she’d made, the choice to have sex with a stranger.

      This stranger, she thought, glancing at his ring once again.

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yes.” So he missed his wife, she thought. That didn’t mean he didn’t play around. The man was a widower, not a saint.

      He gave her a boost when she wasn’t able to climb into the saddle on her own. Next, he adjusted her stirrups.

      The lesson went easily from there. Bobby corrected her when she did something wrong and praised her when she did something right.

      He remained in the center of the arena, the sun glinting off his belt buckle. She’d never undressed a cowboy, but she was more than willing to try.

      He watched her walk the horse along the fence rail. “You’ve got a good seat, Julianne.”

      She sent him a quick smile, assuming that meant she sat a horse well.

      The instruction lasted for almost two hours and when she dismounted, her legs wobbled.

      Bobby caught her shoulders and suddenly they were standing only inches apart. His chest rose and fell, and when he dipped his head to look at her, their eyes met.

      Julianne’s mouth went dry. God, he was beautiful. A Cherokee masterpiece, with his copper skin and strong, sculpted features.

      “You’ll get over that,” he said.

      Over what? The wooziness in her knees? Or the silky sensation between her thighs? The heat of wanting him? “Are you sure?”

      “Yes.” He stepped back, his voice rough. Masculine. Much too husky.

      Julianne attempted to steady her pulse, to give her lungs a dose of calm, even breathing. But the effort proved in vain. She wasn’t going to get over Bobby Elk until she was wrapped in his arms.

      Warm and wet and naked, she thought.

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