Название: Love Thine Enemy
Автор: Patricia Davids
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon Love Inspired
isbn: 9781408965375
isbn:
“Are you okay?” he managed to ask.
She nodded. “I just need to warm up.”
“Rest here. I have to put Dusty away. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He started out the door, then turned. “Oh, watch out for the cat. He’s Bonkers.”
She glanced around, then closed her eyes with a grimace as she leaned her head back. “Crazy cowboy owns an insane cat. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Chuckling, Sam left the house and quickly led Dusty to the barn. He unsaddled the horse, fed him a measure of grain and gave him a fast rubdown.
“So, what do you think of her?” he asked. Dusty kept his nose buried in his oats. Sam paused in his brushing. “What, no comment? It’s not every day an ugly old cow pony gets to give a real ballerina a ride. Me—I think she’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
Dusty snorted once. Sam grinned and resumed the quick, short strokes of his brush. “You’re right, looks aren’t everything. For whatever reason, the good Lord has placed her in my care. I’ll put her up for the night, then get her out of here first thing tomorrow.” He gave the horse a final pat and left.
Pausing outside the barn door, Sam turned up the collar of his coat. The blowing snow piled in growing drifts around the barn. If this storm didn’t let up soon, he could be stuck with his unexpected guest for more than one night. The idea didn’t annoy him the way it should have. Instead, a strange feeling of anticipation grew as he started toward the house.
The sound of the door opening and a gust of frigid air announced Sam’s return. Cheryl eyed her rescuer closely as he paused inside the entry to hang up his coat and hat. As he raked a hand though his dark brown hair, curls flattened by his hat sprang back to life, and she noticed a touch of gray at his temples. He was older than she’d first thought. Perhaps somewhere in his early thirties.
As he turned toward her, she guessed he had to be six feet two at least. He towered over her, but he wasn’t intimidating. His eyes were warm and friendly. A rich hazel color, they were framed with thick, dark lashes any woman would envy. He didn’t have a classically handsome face, she thought, yet there was something appealing about it.
She gave herself a swift mental shake. What on earth was wrong with her? She had more sense than to be moonstruck by a handsome man with a pair of smiling eyes. Plus, he was a rancher. And a Hardin. She’d seen enough of that judgmental and unforgiving lot in her youth to last her two lifetimes. The chiming of a clock sent her thoughts back to her real problem.
“Thanks for the rescue, cowboy, but I can’t stay.”
“My granddad lives with me if you’re worried about your reputation.”
“It’s not that. I have to get to Manhattan.”
“You aren’t going anywhere tonight.”
“It’s important.”
“Unless you can change the weather or sprout wings and fly, you’re stuck.”
She sighed in defeat. “May I use a telephone? I lost my cell phone in the car. I have to let someone know what’s happened to me.”
“There’s a phone in the living room,” he said, stooping to gather her in his arms again.
“I can make it on my own,” she protested.
“Not till I see how bad that leg is.” He swept her up effortlessly, carried her into the living room, and set her gently on the sofa. Bending over her leg, he eased off her shoe and sock.
A hiss of pain escaped Cheryl’s clenched lips, and her hands grew white-knuckled as she gripped the sofa cushions.
He let out a slow whistle. “Lady, you aren’t going be dancing on this any time soon. You need X-rays, maybe even a cast. I’ll get some ice for it. That may keep some of the swelling down.”
Cheryl opened her eyes when the pain receded and stole a quick peek at her throbbing foot. Her ankle, discolored and swollen, looked as bad as it felt, but she’d danced on worse. Her art demanded it.
With her career in mind, she glanced around for the phone, then paused as she caught sight of her surroundings. For a moment, she felt as Alice might have when she stepped through the looking glass. The small porch flanked by cedars had given her the wrong impression. Instead of an old farmhouse, she found herself in a home that looked like a color layout for Better Homes and Gardens. A series of floor-to-ceiling windows made up one entire wall of the huge room. To her right, a wide staircase led down to a lower level, and to her left was an open, airy country kitchen.
A bold Indian-blanket pattern covered the sofa she rested on. Its brickred, hunter-green and royal-blue tones were reflected in the room’s brightly colored accents. Matching love seats flanked the sofa and formed a cozy seating area arranged at the edge of a large, patterned rug. Polished wooden floors and a rough beam ceiling lent added warmth to the room.
Looking over the open counter into the kitchen, she watched Sam move deftly, getting ice, a plastic bag and a towel. He seemed at home in the kitchen. That didn’t exactly fit the rugged cowboy images she remembered.
He returned and handed her a small ice bag. “For that bump on your head.”
“Thank you.” Cheryl took the bag and held it to her temple. He placed a second pack carefully around her ankle.
For such a big man, he had gentle hands. She shivered when he touched her bare skin. Abruptly, she pulled her foot away. “I can manage.”
Her rapid heart rate had to be from the pain and nothing else. “You have a fabulous home,” she said to distract him when he shot her a puzzled look.
“You were expecting a dilapidated log cabin?” An engaging sparkle glinted in the depths of his eyes.
“Oh, not in Kansas,” her reply was quick and flippant. “Everyone knows there aren’t any trees out here. I was expecting a soddy.”
“A soddy?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’m impressed you know the term. Sorry to disappoint you, New York. We don’t live in sod houses anymore.”
“Don’t tell me you have electricity and indoor plumbing, too?” she asked in mock amazement.
He stood and grinned at her. “Smart aleck. Make your phone calls. I’ll let Granddad know we have a guest for the night.”
Cheryl worried briefly that his grandfather might be someone who would recognize her, but her other concerns pushed the worry aside. She had more pressing problems. She picked up the phone and punched in Damon’s cell phone number. When he finally answered, he had little sympathy for her dilemma.
“This tour is a showcase of my work. A second-rate dancer can make it look second rate. How can you do this to me?”
“I’m sorry, Damon. It was an accident. I’ll catch up with you as СКАЧАТЬ