Fine with Jared.
He didn’t particularly want Royce laying eyes on Melissa, anyway.
Stephanie’s lips pursed in a pout. “Why doesn’t he ride up?”
“Probably because he’d be soaked to the ass in the first half mile.” Jared gave a quick glance at Melissa to see if his coarse language had offended her.
Her little grin was the last thing he saw before the room went black.
Forks of lightning streaked through the thick sky, while thunder cracked and raindrops smashed against the roof and the wooden deck outside.
“Uh-oh,” came Stephanie’s disembodied voice.
“What happened?” asked Melissa.
“Could have been anything,” Jared answered as he made his way toward the mantelpiece. He found a box of matches by feel, struck one and lit a couple of candles. Power outages were common in ranch country, doubly so during storms.
Stephanie crossed to the front window. “I don’t see the cookhouse,” she said.
“Give it a minute,” Jared suggested, flipping open his cell phone. He punched in Royce’s number.
Melissa joined Stephanie at the window, and Jared let himself enjoy the view of her back.
“Why would you see the cookhouse?” asked Melissa.
“They have an emergency generator,” said Stephanie.
“Hey, bro,” came Royce’s voice on the phone.
“Lights out down there?” asked Jared. “Just now.”
“Us, too. Any problems?”
“The boys aren’t back from the canyon yet,” said Royce. “McQuestin worried?”
“Won’t be for a couple more hours.”
“Keep me posted?”
Melissa turned, and Jared quickly averted his lecherous gaze.
“Sure,” said Royce.
Flickering lights came on in the distance.
“Cookhouse is up,” said Jared, and Melissa turned back to the window.
“We’re striking up the gas barbecue,” said Royce.
“Don’t let McQuestin talk you into poker.”
Royce laughed as he signed off.
Stephanie had moved into the dining room. She was on her own cell phone, checking to make sure the employees were all accounted for.
Jared tucked his phone in his pocket.
“What now?” asked Melissa.
He checked to make sure Stephanie was out of earshot as he moved toward Melissa and the window. He kept his voice low. “Now I tell you you’re gorgeous.”
“Stephanie’s idea.”
“My sister’s not stupid.”
“Your sister is Machiavellian.”
He moved his hand forward and brushed Melissa’s fingertips. “Seems a shame to let her down.”
“Seems a shame to lead her on.”
“Hey, she’s the one playing us, remember?”
“Mrs. Belmont left lasagna in the oven,” came Stephanie’s voice.
Jared reflexively backed off.
“Salad’s in the fridge,” Stephanie finished.
“I guess we’re dining by candlelight,” said Melissa.
“Romantic,” Stephanie put in, scooping one of the lighted candles and heading for the dining room. Melissa followed.
Jared allowed himself a lingering glance at Melissa as she walked away. “Better than poker with McQuestin,” he said out loud.
They settled at one end of the big table, Jared at the head, flanked by the two women. Lasagna, salad, rolls and a bottle of merlot were spread out in front of them. He’d lit a candelabra for the middle of the table, and kerosene lamps flickered against the rain-streaked windows.
Melissa’s soft blond hair shimmered in the yellow light. Her lips were dark. Her eyes sparkled. And the silk shifted softly against her body as she moved her hands.
“Do you have political aspirations?” she asked him.
The question took him by surprise. “Why the heck would you think that?”
“You’ve got it all,” she responded, taking another sip of the merlot, which he couldn’t help but note was exactly the same shade as her lips. “Money, success, community standing, charitable work, and now you’re palling around with the mayor of Chicago.”
“How did you know about the mayor?”
She concentrated on setting down her glass. “One of the cowboys mentioned something about your building and the city.”
Jared turned to glare at Stephanie. “How does anybody get any work done around here?” he demanded. “Melissa’s been here three days, and she knows everything but my birth weight and shoe size.”
“Don’t be such a bear,” said Stephanie.
“You’re exaggerating,” said Melissa.
“Not by much.”
“Eight pounds nine ounces,” Stephanie put in with a giggle.
“Ouch,” said Melissa.
“Don’t let that put you off,” Stephanie came back. “It’s not necessarily hereditary.”
Both Jared and Melissa stared at her, dumbfounded.
“What?” Stephanie glanced back and forth between them. “You guys don’t want kids?”
“Several,” said Jared, deciding his sister deserved everything she got from here on in.
He took Melissa’s hand and raised it to his lips. “How does four sound to you?”
“Are you going to hire me a nanny?” she asked, surprising him by playing along.
“You bet. A nanny, a chauffeur and a housekeeper.”
“Okay, then.” Melissa gave a nod. “Four it is. But we’d better get started-I’m not getting any younger.” She reached for her wineglass. “Better enjoy this while I can. Once I’m pregnant, it’s off the alcohol. And this wine is fantastic.”
“I know you’re messing with me,” Stephanie put in. “But I don’t care. I have hope, anyway.”
“We have a very good wine cellar,” said Jared. “It was a hobby of Gramps.”
“Why don’t you show it to Melissa?” Stephanie quickly suggested.
“You hoping I’ll get her pregnant on the tasting table?”
Melissa sputtered and coughed over a drink.
He squeezed her hand by way of apology.
“I think Stephanie’s overestimating the power of this dress,” she wheezed.
Jared hesitated. Then he stepped into the breach. “No, she’s not.”
Stephanie clapped her hands together in triumph.
It was ten o’clock when Stephanie succeeded in getting Jared and Melissa alone together. They were in the truck, and Melissa peered in pitch-darkness and driving rain as they rounded the bend to the row of cottages by the river, the headlights bouncing off the oak trees and the dark porches.
She had to admit, she wouldn’t have wanted to walk all the way back. And she wouldn’t have asked Stephanie to slog through the mud to get to the truck. And that left Jared.
Then he had insisted on carrying her from the ranch house porch to the truck-which was an experience all on its own.
Now they pulled up to the front of her cottage and he killed the lights and turned off the engine.
“Stay put,” he told her as he opened the driver’s door and a puff of cool wind burst in. “I’ll be right around.”
Part of her wanted to insist on walking, but her shoes were impractical, the mud was slick, and she knew the black road would be a patchwork of deep puddles. So she waited, her heart rate increasing, her skin prickling in anticipation and her brain fumbling through sexy projections of being in Jared’s arms again.
Her door swung open, and she shifted from the seat into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck. She’d put a windbreaker over the dress, but her legs were still bare and his strong hand clasped around the back of her thigh.
“Ready?” he asked, husky voice puffing against her cheek.
“Ready,” she confirmed with a nod, and he pulled her against his chest, his body protecting her from the worst of the rain. He kicked the truck door shut and strode over the mud and up the porch stairs, stopping under the tiny roof in front of the door.
He didn’t bother putting her down. Instead, he swung the door open and carried her into the warm cottage.
It was completely dark, not a single frame of reference.
He slowly lowered her to the floor. “Don’t move.”
“Do you have matches?” she asked as he stepped away from her.
“There’ll be some on the mantel.” Something banged, and he cursed.
“You okay?” she called.
“I’m fine.”
Then she heard a crackle, and a small flame appeared across the living room. She could just make out Jared’s face as he lit three candles on the stone mantel. There was a mirror on the wall behind, and the light reflected back into the room.
“Thanks,” she told him.
He shook out the match and tossed it into the fireplace. “You want a fire?”
“It’s not that cold.” She hung the damp windbreaker on a wall hook. Then she wiped her face, pulled the clip from her hair and finger-combed out the rainwater.
It was late enough that she planned to snuggle into bed with her laptop and record notes from the evening. Stephanie had predicted the power would be back on by morning. If not, the staff would gather at the cookhouse for breakfast, and they’d set priorities for animal care.
Jared crumpled up a newspaper, threw it into the fireplace and added a handful of kindling. “It’s not that warm, either.” He crouched down and struck another match, lighting a corner of the newspaper.
The orange flame quickly grew, reflecting off the planes and angles of his face. There was something about the actions that warmed Melissa’s heart. He hadn’t exactly saved her life, but he’d shown a tender, caring side that surprised her.
She automatically moved closer to the fire. “I wish I could offer you coffee or something.”
He rose to his feet in the flickering light. His short hair was damp, and his cotton shirt was plastered to his chest. Power and masculinity seemed to ooze from every pore.
He eased closer, and she was instantly awash in desire.
“Coffee’s not what I want.”
She was dying to ask, but she didn’t dare. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, warning herself that the slightest encouragement was going to bring his lips crashing down on hers, and they’d be trapped all over again in the tangle of desire.
His lips came down on hers, anyway.
And she might have stretched up slightly to meet him.
Okay, she’d definitely stretched up. And she’d tilted her head to accommodate him. And now she was opening her mouth, meeting his tongue, snaking her arms around his neck and pressing her body tightly against his own.
His clothes were damp, but she didn’t care. His hands were roaming, and she loved it. His mouth was sure and strong, but still tender, and oh, so hot.
Passion quickly obliterated reason. She clung tightly as his nimble hands pulled down the zipper of her dress. He eased it over her head and discarded it on a chair. He worked at the buttons of his shirt, alternating between kissing her and staring deeply into her eyes. His were nearly black with passion, while desire pulsed through every fiber of her body.
Her hands went to his jeans, popping the button, sliding the zipper.
He groaned, tossed his shirt and pulled her back into his arms. His kisses roamed her cheeks, her neck and down to where he pushed her bra out of the way. His hot mouth surrounded a nipple, and she threw her head back, her hands grasping his shoulders for support.
He wrapped a strong arm firmly around the small of her back, holding her steady, his mouth sending sparks of desire from her breasts to the base of her belly. He released her bra, dropping it to the floor. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the small bedroom.
The sheets were cool against her bare back. She could barely make out his outline as he discarded the remainder of his clothes. Then his warm, hard, musk-scented body was sliding next to her, and she was enveloped in kisses and caresses that seared heat over every inch of her skin.
She kissed his chest, tasting his salty skin, her hands roaming down his back, over his buttocks, along his strong thighs.
He groaned his approval, kissing her deeply. “You are gorgeous,” he breathed. He kissed her again. His fingers found their way into her flimsy panties.
She gasped at his touch, flexing her hips, transmitting an unmistakable invitation.
He peeled off her panties, produced a condom from somewhere, and covered her body with his own. Their bodies were flush together, tight at the apex, and her legs were wrapped around his waist.
He kissed her deeply, sliding his hands to her bottom, adjusting the angle of their bodies as he eased inside. Driving rain splattered against the bedroom window. Lightning chased across the sky while thunder vibrated the cottage walls.
Then the world around Melissa disappeared. Nothing existed beyond Jared, and every sensation was magnified a thousand times, his touch, his scent, the taste of his skin, the sound of his voice as he recited her name, calling her beautiful, urging her on.
Their tempo increased. The hot and cold and electric sensations heightening to unbearable. As thunder crashed around them, her body stiffened. Her toes curled. Her hoarse voice cried out Jared’s name as she tumbled from the pinnacle down into the exquisite arms of release.
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