“I’m sorry, Quin.” She bit at the corner of her mouth. “I think I made an error with the amount of water I was supposed to use.” Then she joined him in his merriment, not stopping until tears ran down her cheeks.

Pouring water from the kettle, he wet a cloth and began helping her clean up. He swept and mopped the floor, while she picked dried dough out of her hair and tried to wash off his apron. He made a mental note to tell Mary Carol Diggs to buy two new aprons. One extra large and one tiny.

While the floor dried they sat on the worktable, legs dangling as if they sat on a dock. They sipped tea and laughed. Laughed and sipped tea.

Quin wasn’t sure exactly how he ended up drinking such a dainty, wimpy concoction, unless of course hell had frozen over.

“Quin, I’ve had a lot of time to think today. You gave me valid reasons why society shouldn’t try to make people into something they aren’t. Isn’t that exactly what you are doing?”

“I don’t see how I’m forcing-” He drained his cup and set it beside hers.

“No, you aren’t forcing others. You are forcing yourself. You are a cattleman who needs to be out on the open range, not cooped up in a newspaper office.” She moved her thigh, so it fit more comfortable against his, enjoying the feeling of his warmth through his Levi’s. “That’s why you stay angry, or did until today.” She rested her fingers lightly on his arm. “It isn’t because of the losses in your life…but that you’ve lost your life.”

“Then tell me why you want to be someone you aren’t, too.”

“Ah, there’s where you are wrong. That’s my problem. I didn’t conform to society, so Grandfather shipped me down here, so far away from Boston that if I spoke my mind the election would be over before New England got word of it. He wouldn’t have to take a chance on me embarrassing him and costing him the election.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” He leaned into her, nudging her shoulder with his.

“My ball gowns and those ugly hats you seemed to detest have already been shipped to Grandfather. I don’t need anything bought with his money. I want to be myself. Enjoy life. Enjoy a good prank. And enjoy…” She looked up at Quin. The smoldering flame she saw in his eyes startled her. “Enjoy kissing you.”

“Then what in the heck are you waiting on, sweetheart?” He swung her into the circle of his arms. “You know I have nothing to offer but a passel of love and a broken-down cowboy with no cows.”

“You mean steers?”

“Smart aleck.”

“Quin, I’m not in love with your cows, your steers, or your body. It’s your heart.”

Quin feathered warm kisses over Kaira’s lips, and she quivered at the sweet tenderness of his touch. Kissing the corner of her mouth, he nipped at her lower lip, sending sensual anticipation down to her soul.

Slowly, he outlined her lips with the tip of his tongue in leisurely exploration. All rational thought fled her mind. Not being able to stand the torture another minute, she claimed Quin’s mouth with hers. Kisses that had begun as soft and sensual became hungry, demanding.

Quin’s hands roamed freely over her body, allowing his fingers to touch as much skin as possible. He nestled her against him, the cradle of his hips welcoming her, and he didn’t try to hide his excitement. His tongue delved into her mouth, meeting hers, tasting, savoring the familiar and longed-for sweetness. She showed him how seriously she had taken his lessons on kissing, as she pleased him again and again.

Kaira circled Quin’s neck with her arms, inching her fingers into his tousled black hair. The smell of musk lingered. Quin’s breathing was rough, ragged as he moved to trail a ribbon of kisses along her throat and slipped his hands under her skirt, finding her warm, delicate thighs and hips. A vision only in his memories. Her bosom was crushed against his chest, her soft curves molded to his heated, aching body.

She answered the demands of his lips but wanted more, all of him. Desiring to touch him freely, she whispered, “Do you think we have time to make love?”

“I don’t know, let me check my watch.” He pretended to reach in his pocket.

Kaira caught him hand. “Not now you don’t.”

Quin angel-kissed her nose. “To answer your question, until now, making love to you never crossed my mind.”

“Liar.” Kaira unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, until his chest was fully exposed. “Don’t forget we have a newspaper to get out.” Burying her face in his chest, she breathed a kiss there.

“Hush.” Quin eased his hand from beneath her skirt, and lifted her head to where they were eye to eye. “I’ve got most of the work done. Monk can finish it. If you think you can behave yourself until Sunday, maybe Reverend Hicks can marry us right after my godson’s christening.”

“Quin, I want to be part of your life, and promise to make the hurt go away.” Her vow was sealed with a kiss.

“Don’t ever make it go away, sweetheart. I hurt so good right now that I don’t know what to do.” Sweetly draining all her doubts and fears, he kissed her again, until her body began to vibrate with liquid fire. “Just keep it up. Keep making me hurt this way.”

And she did, until dawn approached when Quin fell asleep in the big four-poster bed upstairs, holding Kaira.

Curled into the curve of his arm, she felt the velvety lace of the comforter they laid on. She pulled Quin’s mother’s quilt up to his chest and snuggled deeper against his side.

Kissing him good night, she whispered, “Sleep tight, my cowboy. I promise we’ll get the newspaper out to the folks of Amarillo by morning, and still make plenty of time for love.”


***