Too soon she was with him again. No makeup. No shoes. Just wearing a simple flowered sleeveless blouse and a pair of tan shorts, whose midthigh length was likely considered modest. And the sight of her still drove him damn near crazy. He wanted to run a hand up one of her legs, to test if they were, in truth, as soft as they appeared.
She rushed by him and disappeared into the living room. He followed, aroused but trying to remain irritated by the presence of this stranger in his home.
Gorgeous or not, she has to go.
“I really am sorry about this,” she burst out with her rapid-fire Northern accent. “You probably think I’m crazy. I guess I am.” She paced back and forth in front of him, a barefoot beauty. “I knew I should have bought a map.” She waved her cell phone in the air. “It worked the rest of the way down here, but not when it really mattered.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he felt the stirring of something even more worrisome than lust. A tickle of adrenaline licked through his veins as his high-energy intruder came to a stop in front of him. It had been years since anything had made his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. Something about this woman pulled at a part of him he’d long considered dead.
Oblivious to how close he was to hauling her to him and tasting those tempting, pursed lips, Sarah said, “I’ll get my stuff and be out of here before I cause any trouble.”
“Trouble?” Dammit, now why didn’t I simply agree?
She turned away, bent, and gave him a delightful view of her never-ending legs as her shorts rose up. She didn’t seem to notice, just kept rummaging through her luggage. “With your girlfriend or wife or whatever.”
“No trouble,” he drawled. Crazy must be catching, because he was having difficulty reconciling what he knew he should say with the damn fool things coming out of his mouth.
“There they are,” she exclaimed happily, and pulled out the most impractical pair of boots he’d ever seen: knee-high, polished leather, with ridiculously spindly heels and some sort of strap across the top. She held them up next to one leg. “I bought these special for this trip. Do you like them?”
He didn’t answer. His thoughts weren’t the type that should be shared with a woman he’d just met. Like them? No man would ever ask her to take them off. Those were the kind of boots that stayed on all night.
She sat on the couch as she pulled them on. Her big brown eyes studied him intensely. He’d bought horses with less of a perusal than she was giving him. He wished he had taken the time to shave that morning. His plaid shirt was covered with dust and sweat from the time he’d spent working in the hot afternoon. The old jeans he’d thrown on without a second thought that morning were smudged with grass stains. Not much to look at.
“Could I bother you for one more thing?” Her voice was huskier than before. “May I use your phone?” She held up her cell phone. “This thing is useless here and my friends must be worried by now. They expected me hours ago.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to answer. The way she continued to look him over . . . slowly . . . from head to foot had him fumbling for sanity. He pointed to the land phone on the small table in the corner of the room and wordlessly watched her walk to it.
“There’s still no answer.” She waved the handset helplessly in the direction of her distant friends. “I guess I should just head over there and wait till they get home.”
“Are you sure you can find the place?” he asked without missing a beat, surprising himself.
As she replaced the handset, Sarah’s eyes narrowed at him even as her dimples revealed her good humor at his teasing. “A cowboy and a comedian?”
Tony shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever been accused of being funny before.” He’d never had much to laugh about and didn’t see any merit in acting the clown, since the world was full of those who took to idiocy naturally.
Her expression softened. “Well, you should try it more often. It suits you.”
The compliment jolted him like a brush with electric fencing. Tony retreated a step and almost tripped when the back of his boot met her suitcase.
She advanced and reached to steady him but he stepped back again, evading her touch.
The sound of the front door opening had never been so welcome. Women make men stupid. Plain and simple. Wasn’t that what his father had always said? He didn’t need more proof than practically falling on his ass because a woman half his size had complimented him.
The shuffle of boots across the wooden floor announced that someone was joining them. Melanie. Her presence wasn’t a surprise. As his housekeeper, she used his kitchen on a daily basis to prepare meals for him. Normally, however, she was better at minding her own business.
Yep, she was fixing to break the one rule he’d laid down the day he’d hired her and, for a reason he wasn’t comfortable exploring, he wasn’t prepared to correct her in front of Sarah.
Melanie came to a stop at the doorway. “You have company? Do you need anything?” She looked over as she spoke, and for a moment the two women simply stared at each other.
A man would have been hard-pressed to say if these two women could get along. Life hadn’t been kind to Melanie, and she’d spent almost as much time hiding on his secluded ranch as he had. Although she was likely only a few years older than Sarah, they couldn’t have been more different. If the two were cats, Sarah would be the fluffy, white, pampered city type that would probably run at the first sign of a rodent. Melanie would be a brown, bad-tempered barn cat: useful to have but better kept outside.
Not that she ever showed her temper around him; no one did and stayed.
He was still debating how to get both of them out of his house when Sarah stepped forward with the huge, welcoming smile he’d seen on her face when she’d thought he was her friend’s brother.
She took Melanie’s hand in hers and shook energetically. “Hi, my name’s Sarah.”
Melanie pulled her hand free. Did he imagine the hiss? Careful, Sarah. Feral cats aren’t real good when cornered. He figured he could intervene before things got ugly, but most creatures got along better if you let them sort it out for themselves.
Sarah’s smile didn’t dim as she waited for the other woman to speak.
“Melanie,” his dark-haired housekeeper said curtly.
In the high-speed way she spoke, Sarah said, “I can only imagine what you must be thinking, but this is much more ridiculous and innocent than it looks.” She took her phone out of her back pocket and waved it between them. “I mean, who knew it wouldn’t work out here, right?” She looked over her shoulder at Tony and said, “Your husband was just letting me use your phone.” Then she flushed a delightful shade of pink. “Okay, your shower, too, but he didn’t let me use that. I mean, I did use it, but that was before I knew you would both be here. Which, you should be, because it’s your house. So why wouldn’t you be here? I’m the one who shouldn’t be here. And I’m actually just leaving.”