A Husband In Wyoming. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ she could renew her offensive, a husky blonde dog padded into the room from the rear of the house followed by a big man with light brown hair and dark eyes like Dylan’s.

      “Welcome to the Circle M,” the man said in a bass voice. “I’m Wyatt.” He wore jeans and boots but had a back brace fitted over his chambray work shirt. “Make yourself at home.”

      Jess shook his hand, noticing calluses indicative of physical labor. “That seems pretty easy to do. I appreciate your hospitality.”

      “No trouble.” He glanced at the canine standing beside him wagging her tail. “This is Honey. She runs the place.”

      “She’s beautiful. Can I pet her?”

      “She’ll be insulted if you don’t.”

      Bending over, Jess carefully stroked the tawny head. “Nice to meet you, Honey. You’re a good dog, aren’t you?” She didn’t have much contact with animals, so she was never quite sure what to do with them. But Honey’s brown eyes seemed friendly. Her tail wagged and she licked at Jess’s wrist with her long red tongue.

      “Wyatt’s on restricted duty,” Dylan explained as she straightened up. “He took a fall and broke a couple of bones in his spine. We’re attempting to fill the gap he’s left, but that’s about as easy as trying to drive a truck with the engine missing.”

      “An exaggeration,” Wyatt said, giving her a slow smile. “I understand you’re from New York. Have you traveled much in the Western states, Jess?”

      “I’ve visited Colorado and New Mexico for interviews, and I’ve skiied in the Rockies. But I’ve never had the chance to experience authentic ranch life.”

      “You’re in the right place,” Dylan said. “We’re about as authentic as it gets when it comes to cowboys.” He paused. “Well, unless you consider that Ford’s a lawyer and Garrett’s a preacher. They’re a little out of the ordinary. Wyatt’s the genuine article, though. A rancher through and through.” He obviously admired his brothers and wasn’t afraid to say so.

      Footsteps sounded on the porch outside. “Hey, Dylan, get your butt out here. You’re supposed to be—” Another cowboy in a white hat stomped into the house, but stopped short when he caught sight of Jess. “Oh...sorry. I didn’t realize we had company.”

      “This is Jess Granger,” Dylan said. “The reporter I mentioned would be here. Jess, meet my forgetful brother Garrett.”

      Garrett Marshall took off his hat and smiled as they shook hands. “I wasn’t expecting you to arrive today. There’s been a lot going on.” As handsome as his brothers, he shared the same strong face and athletic build, but his eyes were blue, and his build was somewhere in between Wyatt’s and Dylan’s. He wore his light brown hair in a conservative cut and the uniform that ranch life apparently called for: jeans, boots and shirt. “I guess this means you won’t be supervising the dinner detail,” he told his younger brother.

      “We’ve got seven teenagers staying on the ranch,” Dylan explained when Jess glanced at him in question. “A sort of summer camp for some of the troubled kids in the area. My sister-in-law-to-be talked us into helping her out. So there’s a bigger crowd than usual on the premises.”

      “That’s quite a project.” She didn’t expect to be impressed with their efforts. In her experience, damaged kids couldn’t be changed with a few weeks of attention, no matter how well-intentioned. “Sounds like a lot to fit in around ranch work and getting ready for an art show. When do you sleep?”

      “Whenever he sits down,” Wyatt said.

      “Or stops moving,” Garrett added.

      Dylan rolled his eyes. “Thanks, guys. Just label me lazy in front of a reporter for a national magazine. No problem.”

      “We’ll keep it off the record,” she promised him. “What do the kids get to do while they’re here?”

      “Come observe for yourself,” Garrett said. “They’re not quite finished for the afternoon.”

      A distraction might ease Dylan’s resistance. “Can I take pictures?”

      “Sure, why not?”

      “Let me get my camera.”

      “And a hat. That creamy New York complexion will burn in the Wyoming sunshine,” Dylan said as he placed her bags in a cool, shadowed room off the hallway in the back of the house. “I hope you’ll be comfortable in here.”

      The room had been furnished with rustic simplicity, soothing and peaceful, and the connecting bathroom was clean and bright. “I’m sure I will.” She pulled her camera out of her shoulder bag. “But I didn’t consider bringing a hat.”

      He nodded. “I figured you probably hadn’t. Wait here just a second.” The thud of boot heels retreated down the hall and then returned. Dylan appeared in the doorway with a white Western-style hat in his hands. “This should do it.” Standing in front of her, he placed the hat on her head. Then he spun her around to face the mirror above the dresser. “There you go. Looks great—you’re already a bona fide cowgirl.”

      Jess gazed at their reflection, feeling the warmth of his body behind hers, the weight of his palms, his breath stirring her hair. Awareness dawned inside her. She had to think about taking a breath.

      “It’s a new approach,” she said, and was appalled at the quavery sound of her voice. “Thanks.”

      “Uh...you’re welcome.” Dylan sounded a little stunned, as well. He cleared his throat and stepped away. “You might want your hair in a ponytail—it’s always windy on the ranch. I’ll wait for you outside.” In an instant, he was gone.

      Releasing a big breath, Jess took off the hat and went to her suitcase for a brush and an elastic band. She took extra moments to thoroughly smooth and braid her hair, recovering her equilibrium in the process.

      This new Dylan Marshall—the grown-up version—wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d come prepared for a sulky, reclusive artist, someone hiding away from the world he’d once conquered.

      The rumor at the time was, of course, that a love affair gone wrong had sent young Dylan into exile. No woman ever claimed to be the cause of his disappearance, though, and the attention of the art scene quickly shifted to a new talent.

      The man she’d just met didn’t appear to be pining away. He seemed comfortable, satisfied...solid. His sexy grin, the confident and flirtatious attitude, the broad shoulders and narrow hips—all combined into one seriously hot package. And there was chemistry between them. Those moments in front of the mirror had affected them both.

      But she was flying back to New York on Sunday, giving her only four days to get what she needed for the article. With his three brothers as well as seven teenagers on the premises, there wouldn’t an opportunity for her to get beyond a professional acquaintance with Dylan Marshall. Which was too bad, because she was tempted to want more. Very tempted.

      But even if she had been staying longer, she’d reached the point in her life where a simple fling just wasn’t enough. A few days...weeks...even months of good times and good sex didn’t compensate for the emotional quagmire she went through when the relationship ended.

      And СКАЧАТЬ