Strong and Sexy (Sky High Air #2)(79)
If you liked this story, you’ve got to try
THE BLACK SHEEP AND THE HIDDEN BEAUTY
by Donna Kauffman, available now from Brava.
Turn the page for a sneak peek…
E lena backed down the ladder from her loft apartment over the outer stables, yawning deeply and wishing like hell she’d remembered to set the timer on the coffee pot the night before. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and last night the temperature had dipped down a bit further than it had recently making for a chilly late spring morning. She shivered despite the long underwear top she’d donned under her overalls this morning. Teach her to be a smartass and offer up a dawn class. But then, she hadn’t really expected him to take her up on it. He struck her as more night owl, than early bird. Serve her right if he stood her up. Her luck, Rafe was probably still tucked in his nice warm bed. Which was where she should be. Well, not in Rafe’s bed, but…
No way could she stop the visuals that accompanied that little mental slip. It wasn’t a shot of warm coffee, but it did have the added benefit of getting her blood pumping a little faster. Of course, if she were in the same bed as Rafe, she wouldn’t need any coffee, just…stamina.
“Morning.”
His voice surprised her, making her lose her footing on the last rung. An instant later two strong hands palmed her waist and steadied her as both feet reached the ground. She could have told him that putting his hands on her was not the way to steady her at the moment, but she was too busy trying to rally her thoughts away from imagining him man-handling her like this while they were both naked amongst tousled sheets.
Then he was turning her around, and she was getting her first look at a scruffy, early morning Rafe. And whatever words she might have found evaporated like morning mist under a rising sun.
Goodness knows her temperature was rising.
He had on an old, forest green sweatshirt and an even older pair of jeans if the frayed edges and faded thighs and knees were any indication. It was standard weekend morning clothing for most men, but, until that moment, she’d have been hard pressed to visualize it on him. Of course, on most men, that combination would have given them a disheveled look at best. In fact, she was feeling incredibly disheveled herself at the moment. Rafe, on the other hand, without even trying, looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of the latest Ralph Lauren ad. She’d resent the ease with which he made scruffy so damn sexy, except she was too busy fighting off the waves of lust the look inspired.
“So,” she said, her tone overly bright. “You ready for lesson number two?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She led the way down the aisle toward Petunia’s stall. “It’s been a while since your first lesson, so keep in mind that you’ll probably need to reestablish your report with Petunia.”
“Check.” He said nothing else, just followed behind her.
She stopped at the tack room door and went inside. “I haven’t set anything out, so we need to get her saddle, pads, bridle, everything.”
He followed her into the smaller room. “Just point to what we need.”
She could feel him behind her, her awareness of him as finely tuned as her senses were to the animals she worked with. Except with him, there was all that sexual energy jacking things up. She cleared her throat, maybe squared her shoulders a little, then made the mistake of looking back at him before reaching for the first of the gear.
Something about the morning beard shadowing his jaw, the way his hair wasn’t quite so naturally perfect, made his eyes darker, and enhanced how impossibly thick his eyelashes were. And she really, really needed to stop looking at his mouth. But the ruggedness the stubble lent to his face just emphasized all the more those soft, sculpted lips of his.
Her thighs were quivery, her nipples were on point, and the panties she’d just put on not fifteen minutes ago, were already damp. The morning air might have been head-clearing. Her body hadn’t gotten the message at all.
“You take the saddle there,” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she knew she did. Dammit. “On the third rail,” she added, pointing, when he kept that dark gaze of his on her.
“What else?” He didn’t even glance at the rack.
“Grab one of the pads. Same kind that we used last time. I’ll get the halter and bridle.”
“Okay.”
She waited a heartbeat too long for him to move first. He didn’t.
So they were officially staring at each other now. The silence in the small space expanded in a way that lent texture to the very air between them. The room was tiny, the temperature warm, with little ventilation. The sun hadn’t risen enough to slice through the panels on the roof, leaving the room deep in shadows, with thin beams of gray dawn providing the only light. There was a light bulb overhead, but she’d have to reach past him to get to the switch.
He stepped forward. “Elena—”
“Rafe—”
They spoke at the same time; both broke off.
He paused. “Yes?”
She really wanted to know what he’d been about to say, before she potentially made a very big fool out of herself, but went ahead before she lost her nerve. “I can’t—I mean, not to be presumptuous here, but I can’t—don’t—mix business with pleasure.”