The Cowboy's Million-Dollar Secret. Emilie Rose

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      Leanna glanced at Patrick, hoping he’d enlighten her, but he flushed and avoided her gaze. “You’re full of it, Toby.”

      “Won’t be me full of rising sap.”

      “My money says he won’t make it past Saturday night,” another man called out.

      One of the women shushed them. “Leave him alone.”

      Curiosity and her own competitive nature got the better of Leanna. “What’s the bet?”

      “We’re betting—”

      Patrick interrupted Toby. “Folks, this is Leanna. She’s filling in for Brooke. Introduce yourselves.”

      But Toby wasn’t dissuaded. He continued, “I’m Toby, trail boss, and I’m betting Patrick can’t stay away from Red Dog’s Bar or women until Caleb gets back.”

      Leanna chewed the inside of her cheek. Womanizing and drinking. That didn’t sound good. Was Patrick a loser like her mother’s exes? She hoped not.

      The group doled out names and job descriptions until only one man, about her age, was left. He ambled toward her and didn’t stop until he’d crowded her against the counter. “Sweet thing, I’d love to show you the local sights.”

      Leanna’s heart raced and her muscles constricted. The last man who’d called her “sweet thing” had tried to rape her. The counter pressed into her spine, reminding her too much of the slick shower stall. Cold sweat beaded her lip, but she stood her ground. “No, thanks. I bought a map.”

      “A map can’t show you half what—”

      “I prefer fact to fiction, and I suspect you’re full of it.”

      She heard snickers from the crew.

      “Back off, Warren.” Patrick clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder and yanked him out of her space. “She said no.”

      Patrick turned, putting his broad shoulders between her and the rest of the crew. Leanna fought the nausea stirring her stomach and tried to steady her nerves as Patrick gave orders for the day.

      The encounter had surprised her. Flirtatious creeps had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. Usually she could spot them a mile off and defend herself from them, but she’d let down her guard in the crowded kitchen.

      The crew emptied out of the kitchen, and Patrick turned to face her. “Are you all right?”

      “Fine.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered.

      “Right. That’s why you look like you’re gonna toss your cookies on my boots.”

      The concern in his eyes wrapped around her like a warm blanket. No one besides Arch had ever stood up for her before. “Your imagination is working overtime.”

      “Is there something you’re not telling me, kid?”

      If only he knew. “Stop calling me kid.”

      “I’ll stop when you tell me what you’re really doing here.” He continued to study her until she wanted to squirm. She wouldn’t tell him the truth until he knew her well enough to trust her when she told him how much Arch had cared about him.

      She held his gaze, trying to act as if she hadn’t nearly had a panic attack. The concern on Patrick’s face slowly changed. His features tightened. His gaze heated and dropped to her mouth.

      Her nerves clamored again, but panic wasn’t the cause. An unknown emotion spread through her, shortening her breath and making her skin prickle.

      Patrick shook his head and took a step back. He turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, “Ring the brass bell on the back porch if you need me.”

      The sun was a dim light on the horizon when Patrick parked his truck beside the barn. The sound of running water had him swearing and jogging toward the washing stall, but it wasn’t a busted pipe that made his knees lock up and his jaw drop.

      Leanna was naked.

      She had her back to him as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair with the nozzle she held in one hand. Water and bubbles slid from her shoulders to the nip of her waist, faithfully following her curves the way a skilled lover would with his hands. Suds washed over the bow of her hips, her taut pale behind, and down long, sleek legs to puddle around her shower sandals before swirling down the drain.

      His throat knotted up and his heart hammered. His blood headed south. He was rock-hard in an instant.

      He ought to let her know he was here. Better yet, he should get outta here. His feet wouldn’t move, but his eyes sure did, savoring the feast of a beautiful, wet woman.

      Get a grip, Lander. You’ve seen naked ladies before. Dozens of them. But why in the hell was this one showering in the barn? He couldn’t ask. His mouth was as dry as dirt.

      Slowly she rotated, but her eyes remained closed. Full, pale breasts with tightly puckered dusky tips. A tiny waist. Rounded hips. A tangle of dark curls framed by a narrow triangle of lighter skin.

      Leanna was built better than any wet dream he’d ever had. Air gushed from his lungs.

      Her lids flew open. The shock in her eyes gave way to fear—the same fear he’d seen in her eyes yesterday when Warren had hit on her. She reached for the knob behind her and turned off the hot water, and then aimed the hose right at his crotch. “Cool off, cowboy.”

      A blast of frigid water jerked him out of his trance. She redirected the spray to his face, knocking off his hat and soaking him from head to toe. “Hey!”

      Bounding forward, he grabbed the hose. Leanna wrestled him for it. His knuckles brushed her silky belly. Her breast hit his biceps like an electric cattle prod.

      She gasped and jerked back, tripping over the hose coiled at her feet. Her arms flailed.

      He tried to catch her and keep her from falling on the concrete, but his hands slipped on the slick, wet skin of her back. Before he knew it he had a handful of her soft bottom, and her pebbled nipples branded a hole through his wet shirt.

      Every cell in his body rose for “Reveille.”

      “Cut it out.” He said it to himself as much as to her. She stopped struggling, but remained rigid in his arms. He righted her, released her and turned off the water, even though he seriously needed to aim the icy flow down the front of his Wranglers.

      Covering her breasts and the curls between her legs with her hands, she backed as far away from him as she could in the confines of the wash stall.

      Although he would have preferred to make another leisurely inspection of her figure, the wariness in her eyes stopped him cold. He snatched the towel hanging from the hook on the wall beside him and tossed it to her.

      She caught it and swiftly wound it around herself, but she didn’t take her gaze off him—not even long enough to blink.

      He had to say something. While he’d never had trouble talking to a naked woman before, СКАЧАТЬ