Leaping Hearts(16)

“Now what have I done?” she asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve got that jungle-cat-measuring-an-antelope look, so I figured I’d ask.”

Instead of responding, Devlin turned off the overhead light and took a healthy swig of the brown liquor. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he had a feeling that sleep was going to be elusive. And that was before he’d caught a glimpse of the smooth expanse of her calf and thigh. Now there was heat swirling around his gut and he knew it wasn’t just the scotch.

“Bath’s down the hall. Shower’s upstairs if you need it in the morning.”

“Thanks again,” A.J. murmured, obviously giving herself up to exhaustion.

It was a long time that he stayed in the shadows and watched the woman until, totally disturbed, he went to the stairs. Even then, he found it difficult to leave. He stood, with one foot on the bottom step, and looked at her in the reflected glow of the fire he’d banked hours before. Auburn hair was spread across the pillow he’d given her in a glorious dark wave, and in the dim light the perfectly formed features of her face seemed heaven made, not of the earth at all. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself going to her, slipping a hand under the silken weight of her hair and lifting her lips to his. She would taste like honey. All warm golden sweetness.

Shit, he thought. Why couldn’t she have turned up looking for nothing more complicated than a date?

Although, when he thought about it, he knew an evening out with her would be anything but simple. The woman had a way of lighting up a room that distracted him like nothing else he’d ever run across.

I may be in trouble here, he thought.

He found the strength of his attraction to her surprising and told himself it must be because he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. Before the accident, he’d never had much time for a personal life. Since then, he hadn’t had any interest in one. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything other than pain and he’d forgotten his heart had the capacity for anything else. Now, for the first time since his accident, he was looking at something he found beautiful.

Or someone, as was the case.

A.J. stirred, letting out a soft sigh.

It was like an invitation had been whispered against his ear and he found himself getting hard.

With a fumbling movement, Devlin tossed back the last of the scotch and went upstairs.

The next morning, A.J. was up with the sun, pulling on her jeans and boots and putting the couch back in order as quietly as she could. As she sneaked out the front door to hightail it down to the barn, she glanced up at the windows on the second story. She wondered whether Devlin was sleeping. And what he looked like when he was at rest.

He was probably back in those pajama bottoms again, she thought. Or had he pulled them on quickly to answer the door because he slept in the nude?

Suddenly, the early-morning chill didn’t seem all that chilly.

Doing her best to push her wayward thoughts out of her mind, she rushed down to the barn. The first light of dawn was coming across the meadow in all its peach-hued glory but she didn’t pause to savor the majesty of the morning. She was in a hurry to see the stallion and was relieved to hear him stomp a hoof and whinny a greeting as she slid aside the big wide door.

Now, that’s what a stable should sound like, she thought, as she opened the top half of Sabbath’s stall door. He reached out to her, nudging her shoulder and snuffling over her jacket.

“Good morning to you, too,” she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. She was pleased by how happy he was to see her. “You know, I’m beginning to think you might be a real mushball.”

Sabbath flicked his ears back and forth and then thrust his muzzle under her arm, lifting her off the ground.

Laughing, she entered the stall, checked his water and then went to the trailer for some oats and hay. When she returned, his head was out in the aisle and he was surveying his new surroundings. Ducking under his neck, she hung a bucket of feed on a brass hook next to the water tub and waited while he lipped the food and began to eat. Figuring he’d like some peace and quiet as he had breakfast, she left the stall.

As soon as she shut the door, Sabbath’s head was back out into the aisle and he started nickering. Concerned, she went back over to him, only to watch as he pulled his head inside and tucked into the sweet feed again. With an indulgent smile, she leaned up against the door and talked to him as he ate, using the time to try to figure out a plan for them. By the time he was licking the bottom of the bucket, their future was no clearer but she’d enjoyed the quiet time with him. As she shut his top door, she decided he could be pretty endearing when he wanted to be.

When A.J. went outside, she stood for a moment looking at the farmhouse. In the tender morning light, it was a needlepoint sampler, all that was good and cozy, and autumn made the place seem even more inviting. In a blaze of color, the rich reds and yellows of fall were beginning to manicure the tips of tree branches, emphasizing the house’s radiant white exterior.

The image was picture perfect, postcard ready, she thought. Drop it in the mail and remind someone of the fantasy home everyone wished for. Too bad Norman Rockwell’s model of farming America was making her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a box of thumbtacks.

A.J. rubbed her belly, thinking maybe her father’s thing with stress and antacids might be hereditary.