Sparks of Temptation. Brenda Jackson

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      He chuckled. “A cup of tea is fine.”

      “You sure?”

      He chuckled again. “Yes, I’m positive.”

      “All right then.” She opened the door and he followed her inside.

      * * *

      Besides the fact Jason thought she looked downright beautiful, Bella Bostwick smelled good, as well. He wished there was some way he could ignore the sudden warmth that flowed through his body from her scent streaming through his nostrils.

      And then there was the way she was dressed. He had to admit that although she looked downright delectable in her jeans and silk blouse she also looked out of place in them. But as she walked gracefully in front of him, Jason thought that a man could endure a lot of sleepless nights dreaming about a Southern-belle backside shaped like hers.

      “If you’ll have a seat, Jason, I’ll bring the tea right out.”

      He stopped walking as he realized she must have a pot already made. “All right.”

      He watched her walk into the kitchen, but instead of taking the seat like she’d offered, he kept standing as he glanced around taking in the changes she’d already made to the place. There were a lot of framed art pieces on the wall, a number of vases filled with flowers, throw rugs on the wood floor and fancy curtains attached to the windows. It was evident that a woman lived here. And she was some woman.

      She hadn’t hesitated to get her back up when she’d assumed his visit here was less than what he’d told her. He figured Kenneth Bostwick, in addition to no telling how many others, probably hadn’t liked her decision not to sell her land and was giving her pure grief about it. He wouldn’t be one of those against her decision.

      He continued to glance around the room, noting the changes. There were a lot of things that remained the same, like Herman’s favorite recliner, but she’d added a spiffy new sofa to go with it. It was just as well. The old one had seen better days. The old man had claimed he would be getting a new one this coming Christmas, not knowing when he’d said it he wouldn’t be around.

      Jason drew in a deep breath remembering the last time he’d seen Herman Bostwick alive. It had been a month before he’d died. Jason had come to check on him and to ride Hercules. Jason was one of the few people who could do so mainly because he was the one Herman had let break in the horse.

      He glanced down to study the patterns on the throw rug beneath his feet, thinking how unique looking they were when he heard her reenter the room. He looked up and a part of him wished he hadn’t. The short, medium-brown curls framing her face made her mahogany-colored skin appear soft to the touch and perfect for her hazel eyes and high cheekbones.

      There was a refinement about her, but he had a feeling she was a force to be reckoned with if she had to be. She’d proven that earlier when she’d assumed he was there to question her sanity about moving here. Maybe he should be questioning his own sanity for not convincing her to move on and return to where she came from. No matter her best intentions, she wasn’t cut out to be a rancher, not with her soft hands and manicured nails.

      He believed there had to be some inner conflict driving her to try to run the ranch. He decided then and there that he would do whatever he could to help her succeed. And as she set the tea tray down on the table he knew at that moment she was someone he wanted to get to know better in the process.

      “It’s herbal tea. Do you want me to add any type of sweetener?” she asked.

      “No,” he said flatly, although he wasn’t sure if he did or not. He wasn’t a hot tea drinker, but did enjoy a glass of cold sweet tea from time to time. However, for some reason he felt he would probably enjoy his hot tea like he did his coffee—without anything added to it.

      “I prefer mine sweet,” she said softly, turning and smiling over at him. His guts tightened and he tried like hell to ignore the ache deep within and the attraction for this woman. He’d never felt anything like this before.

      He was still standing and when she crossed the room toward him carrying his cup of tea, he had to forcibly propel air through his lungs with every step she took. Her beauty was brutal to the eyes but soothing to the soul, and he was enjoying the view in deep male appreciation. How old was she and what was she doing out here in the middle of nowhere trying to run a ranch?

      “Here you are, Jason.”

      He liked the sound of his name from her lips and when he took the glass from her hands they touched in the process. Immediately, he felt his stomach muscles begin to clench.

      “Thanks,” he said, thinking he needed to step away from her and not let Bella Bostwick crowd his space. But he also very much wanted to keep her right there. Topping the list was her scent. He wasn’t sure what perfume she was wearing but it was definitely an attention grabber, although her beauty alone would do the trick.

      “You’re welcome. Now I suggest we sit down or I’m going to get a crick in my neck staring up at you.”

      He heard the smile in her voice and then saw it on her lips. It stirred to life something inside of him and for a moment he wondered if her smile was genuine or practiced and quickly came to the conclusion it was genuine. During his thirty-four years he had met women who’d been as phony as a four-dollar bill but he had a feeling Bella Bostwick wasn’t one of them. In fact, she might be a little too real for her own good.

      “I don’t want that to happen,” he said, easing down on her sofa and stretching his long legs out in front of him. He watched as she then eased down in the comfortable-looking recliner he had bought Herman five years ago for his seventy-fifth birthday.

      Jason figured this was probably one of the craziest things he’d ever done, sit with a woman in her living room in the middle of the day and converse with her while sipping tea. But he was doing it and at that moment, he couldn’t imagine any other place he’d rather be.

      * * *

      Bella took a sip of her tea and studied Jason over the rim of her cup. Who was he? Why was she so attracted to him? And why was he attracted to her? And she knew the latter was true. She’d felt it that night at the ball and she could feel it now. He was able to bring out desires in her that she’d never felt before but for some reason she didn’t feel threatened by those feelings. Instead, although she really didn’t know him, she felt he was a powerhouse of strength, tenderness and protectiveness all rolled into one. She knew he would never hurt her.

      “So, tell me about yourself, Jason,” she heard herself say, wanting so much to hear about the man who seemed to be taking up so much space in her living room as well as in her mind.

      A smile touched his lips when he said, “I’m a Westmoreland.”

      His words raised her curiosity up a notch. Was being a Westmoreland supposed to mean something? She hadn’t heard any type of arrogance or egotism in his words, just a sense of pride, self-respect and honor.

      “And what does being a Westmoreland mean?” she asked as she tucked her legs beneath her to get more comfortable in the chair.

      She watched him take a sip of his tea. “There’s a bunch of us, fifteen in fact,” Jason said.

      She nodded, taking in his response. “Fifteen?”

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