Saddle Up(21)

“I’ve been to every state in the Continental U.S. and have also seen a good bit of Europe. I spent a lot of time in different parts of Germany. They have a weird fascination with Native American culture over there that goes back to a German author of Western dime novels named Karl May.”

“What did you do when you were there?” she asked.

A hint of humor softened his eyes and relaxed the lines around his mouth. “The same thing I did here: presented clinics on horse behavior and seduced countless women.”





Chapter 9


Keith watched with interest as Miranda scrambled on all fours up a steep embankment, camera around her neck, to film the sunset. As much as he’d wanted to, he couldn’t dislike her. She’d kept her composure during the snake incident and afterward had even shown a sense of humor when most women would have gone into hysterics. She’d been reasonably stoic, given the hard ride and rough conditions. She also had tenacity, which earned his grudging respect.

“Be careful,” he called out. “I don’t want to have to call the chopper when you break your neck.”

She heaved herself up onto the biggest rock and uncapped her lens. “You worry like an old woman.”

The barb struck home. “An old woman?”

She smirked. “You sure sound like one.”

The second taunt was too much for his ego to bear. Taking a running start, he bounded up the rocky incline with as much ease as a mountain goat. She startled when he laid a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. “What are you doing up here?” she asked, sounding a bit breathless.

“Take it back,” he demanded.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Take what back?”

He jerked his chin. “The insult you just made.”

She laughed. “It was a joke. You can’t really be that sensitive.”

“In my culture, men have two roles—hunter or warrior.”

“A warrior? Aren’t you a little late to that party? I think the cowboy and Indian wars ended well over a century ago.”

“The identity remains,” he returned staunchly. “It’s who we are. Who I am.” Or at least who he’d always wanted to be. “Comparing me to an old woman is no joke. It is an insult.” His tone was calm and controlled, yet fire simmered in his veins.

“Are you for real? You honestly expect me to retract what I said?”

“Yes.” Her careless laugh only stoked the flame.

Her laughter died. Her hands landed on her hips. She raised her chin a notch to meet his gaze, her smoky eyes challenging. “And if I don’t take it back?”

“Then I will make you.”

“Make me? Just how do you propose to do that?”

“Do you really want to go there?”

He stepped into her space.

She backed away, nervously licking her lips.

“Why did you come with me, Miranda? You knew I didn’t want to bring you, yet you insisted. You would have been safe at camp, but you came even after I warned you of all the dangers.”

“But we weren’t supposed to be alone. Dave and Donny said they were going to join us.”

“But they aren’t here yet, are they?” She could have gone back. She should have gone back. “Why did you come?” he asked again, softly.

“I told you why.” Her gray eyes flickered and then flitted away. “I-I wanted to help find the stray horses, and Mitch needs proof of what happened.”

He advanced again until they stood thigh to thigh. “I had nothing to do with it?”

She gave another nervous laugh. “Is that what you think, Keith? That you’re so irresistible that every woman you meet wants to jump your bones?”

“Not all,” he replied with a shrug. “But I have enough experience to recognize the ones who do.”

“You’re mistaken this time.”

“Am I? I don’t think so. Your need speaks to me. It shines in your eyes.”

Those wide, fawn-like eyes made him feel far too much like a ravenous beast emerging from hibernation. She squeezed them shut, a move that was as effective as an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. He inched in until he was close enough to feel her soft soughs of breath caressing his face, close enough for the subtle essence of honeysuckle to tease his nostrils. Her scent struck him hard, firing a primal need to touch…to taste. He looped a stray reddish-gold curl—the color of a desert sunrise—around his finger. She stared at his hand, swallowed hard, but didn’t pull away. He slowly released the curl and grazed his thumb down her cheek to stroke across her bottom lip.

*

Finding herself between a rock and a hard place—specifically the boulder at her back and Keith at her front—Miranda recognized that she was in way over her head. Her gut had warned her where all this was heading, but she hadn’t listened. Maybe she’d subconsciously asked for it, but now that he’d taken notice of her, her pulse pounded in panic.

“Do you deny that want me, Miranda?” he whispered seductively. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her? Her nerves coiled tighter, her anticipation ramping up another notch. “Isn’t that the real reason you came out here with me?” His mouth hovered inches from hers, his hot, humid breath inciting tiny ripples down her spine. “If I can’t hear it from your lips, I’ll make your body speak.”