Her Rancher Rescuer. Donna Alward

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      The nervous giggle she’d been holding in slipped out.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “Nothing,” she answered, draining her glass of champagne and looking longingly at the empty flute. It would be gauche to ask for another, but oh, my, it was delicious.

      She noticed Jack give a nod to the DJ, and seconds later the song changed to something slower.

      He took her hand and led her to the floor. His fingers gripped hers, his other hand placed firmly on the hollow of her back as he drew her close. In her heels, she only had to tip her head a little to have her lips at the bottom of his ear. “You are used to people taking your orders,” she observed as their feet began to move.

      “Yes, I am. But only when I’m being reasonable.”

      “Are you ever unreasonable?”

      He lowered his chin and looked down at her, his expression unexpectedly serious. “Not as often as I used to be.”

      Something delicious swirled around in her tummy. “You mean you’ve left your bad-boy days behind?”

      “Mostly.”

      She blinked. “Mostly?” What did that mean?

      “Well, locking myself in a bathroom with you probably wasn’t the most reasonable move. Though I must say I did behave myself. Even you can’t deny that.”

      She was about to laugh when he said, “More’s the pity.”

      And the laugh died in her throat, replaced instead by an acute awareness of what could have happened in that bathroom. What everyone probably thought had happened....

      “They were going to talk regardless,” he said quietly, his lips against her temple as he read her thoughts. “This way they talk about you sneaking away with me instead of locking yourself away crying over him.”

      He was right. And she would rather that, than everyone view her as pathetic, as they normally did.

      As his hand rode perilously close to her tailbone, she recalled the scandal that broke just prior to the fall that messed up his knee for good. There’d been a photograph of him and a woman.... His coach’s wife, if she remembered correctly. Had he been in love with her? Licked his wounds in private? What secrets was Jack hiding beneath his cool, confident exterior? There had to be more to the man than what she saw. No one was that perfect.

      “Do you love him, Amy?”

      “What? Who?” she asked, confused.

      They danced along to the music, feet moving in perfect rhythm. “Rhys Bullock. Are you in love with him?”

      “God, no.” The denial came swiftly to her lips. Rhys was attractive, and for most of the women in Cadence Creek, the ungettable get. They’d gone on exactly one date and while he was nice enough, they hadn’t clicked at all. Catching the bouquet had been pure chance. And Rhys hadn’t exactly pushed her away during the dance. Rhys was a challenge to the female population of Cadence Creek.

      “Then why the tears?” Jack asked.

      She met his gaze. “Truthfully? Humiliation. It’s not every day that someone claims you’re the last woman on earth they’d want to date. Now be quiet, eh? I have a lot more fun when we’re not talking.”

      His eyes flashed at her. “Be careful, talking like that could get you into trouble.”

      “You promised to be honorable.”

      “I still have to drive you home. The night’s not over yet.”

      Again, the curl of excitement wound through her as he flirted. She was under no illusions. There was no future with Jack. He was not a romantic prospect or a ticket anywhere, nor did she want him to be. But he was fun and interesting and different and exciting, and at this moment those were fantastic attributes. It beat the hell out of chocolate fudge ice cream and a ten-year-old chick flick on cable.

      His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer against his length. He still wore his tuxedo jacket, unbuttoned, and her fingers pressed against the rich, thick material. She slipped her fingers beneath the lapel and felt the heat of his skin through the satiny material of his vest. “You have a lot of layers on,” she murmured, her lashes fluttering as the hand at her waist kneaded the top of her tailbone.

      She was deliberately tempting him. After they’d already set out the ground rules.

      “Say the word and they’re gone,” he answered, calling her bluff.

      She kept silent.

      “This is a killer dress,” he commented. “Little black dress sounds so simple. But it’s not simple on you.”

      “Is there a motive behind your compliments? Or are you just keeping up the charade?”

      “It’s the truth. You look beautiful tonight. The men of this town must all be blind if they can’t see it.”

      She shrugged. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not a novelty.”

      “They’re blind and stupid, then.”

      She smiled. “You’re doing a good job, anyway.”

      “A good job?”

      “Of turning the situation around and puffing up my ego. You were right. A dance was a better idea than running off with my tail between my legs.”

      “We only forgot one thing.”

      “We did?”

      “Well, yes. If you want everyone to believe you don’t give a damn about Rhys.”

      Curious, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Suddenly she couldn’t hear the music, couldn’t see the other partygoers around them. She was oblivious to everything but Jack. The way he looked, all suave and debonair with his dark hair and bedroom eyes and broad shoulders. But more than that was the way he was looking at her. Like she was the only woman in the world. No one had ever, ever looked at her that way.

      It seemed the most obvious thing for a kiss to be the next step. They slid into it naturally, like they’d done it a thousand times before. Her head tilted slightly to the left, there was a first meeting of lips, then they opened a little wider as they tasted and explored. It felt strangely familiar and yet somehow brand-new. They kept it light, kept their hands where they belonged, especially considering they were in public. But it was a hell of a kiss all the same—the kind of kiss that made her toes curl in her platform pumps and goose bumps shiver over her skin. And when it was over her breath was coming a little bit faster than before. Wow.

      “If there were ever any doubt...” he said, putting the final bow on the top by touching his lips to her temple in a tender and intimate gesture.

      But his words made Amy go suddenly cold, like she was splashed with icy water. This wasn’t real. It was an act, a performance. A charity service. It was all about perception. Showing the town that she didn’t give a damn about Rhys Bullock and his insults.

      “What’s СКАЧАТЬ