Kiss Me (Fool's Gold #17)(19)
Somehow he released her hand and pulled his free. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her against him so her entire body pressed against his. The man was a rock. Big, unyielding and warmed by the sun. She wanted to snuggle even closer. She wanted to rip off her clothes and give the goats something to talk about. She wanted—
He licked her lower lip.
The unexpected moist heat made her gasp as fire raced through her. Every singed nerve ending vibrated with need for more. The masculine, slightly piney scent of him surrounded her. Operating only on instinct, she parted her lips to allow him entry. She had a single heartbeat to brace herself for the power of his tongue touching hers. Then he swept inside and blew her away.
It was like being inside the space shuttle on takeoff. Phoebe might not have any personal experience with space flight, but she could imagine. The powerful force between them left her weak and clinging to his broad shoulders. She trembled and needed and ached with equal intensity.
His tongue brushed against hers again. He tasted of coffee and mint and something wonderfully sensual and sweet. His mouth seemed designed for kissing. Maybe it was all that non-conversation. Maybe talking too much undermined a man’s ability to kiss. She didn’t know and didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he stroked her, touched her, teased her. He cupped her head with one hand and ran his other up and down her back. If only this moment would never end.
But it did. A sharp bark from somewhere in the distance brought Phoebe back to earth with a rude thunk. She suddenly became aware of being pressed up against a really good-looking stranger, kissing in front of a goat pen. Apparently Zane got a similar wake-up call, because he stepped back at the same second she did. At least the man was breathing hard. She would hate to think she was the only one who had been affected.
“Okay, then,” she said when she realized that all feelings to the contrary, she still could breathe.
Zane continued to stare at her.
She swallowed. “Did you want to say something?”
Anything would be fine. Just any old reaction. As long as he wasn’t going to say it was all a mistake. That would really annoy her. Or maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe he kissed lots of women out here by the goat pens.
“I have to get back to work. Can you find your way to the house?”
She blinked at him. That was it? Okay. Fine. As long as she didn’t try to walk on legs that were still trembling, she could pretend nothing had happened.
“Sure,” she muttered. “No problem.”
He nodded, then bent down and picked up his hat. She frowned. When exactly had that fallen off? He straightened, opened his mouth, then closed it. She wasn’t even surprised when he turned and left without saying a word. It was just so typical.
When she was alone, Phoebe tried to work up a case of righteous indignation. When that didn’t work, she went for humor. If nothing else, she had to give Maya credit for the promised distraction. Oh. She also had to remember that as soon as she found out what constituted a treat on the baby-goat food hit list, she would be sure to send a thank-you gift.
* * *
ZANE FIGURED THE morning had been a cheap lesson. If one city slicker could get bit just walking around the ranch, what kind of trouble were ten greenhorns going to get into on a cattle drive? As he headed for the main barn, he considered the potential for broken legs, stampeding cattle and raging cases of poison oak. If he was lucky, that would be the worst of it. He didn’t want to consider what would happen if he wasn’t lucky.
Most of the time he didn’t allow himself second guesses. They were a pointless waste of time. But for once he wondered if he’d made the right decision when he’d chosen to host a cattle drive instead of simply paying back the deposits and taking the money out of Chase’s hide with a summer full of rough physical work.
That boy was going to be the death of him.
He jerked open the barn door and stalked toward his office. But instead of entering it, he passed through to the file room—an open area with dozens of file cabinets filled with breeding information, records for the ranch and medical histories for every Black Angus steer, cow or bull to step foot on the Nicholson Ranch. He crossed to the back wall where he studied a map of the area, including his ranch, the Castle Ranch to the east and the Konopka place to the west, and of course, the nearby town of Fool’s Gold.
His normal route for the cattle drive took him about a hundred and fifty miles from one end of Nicholson land to the other. It was an easy two weeks of lazy rides, wide-open spaces and plenty of time to just be without the hassles of everyday life. It was also about as far from the main ranch buildings as he could get, outside of coverage from the cell tower he’d had built several years ago. He took a few trusted men, some supplies and Tango, his best horse. Primitive didn’t begin to describe the conditions. They were his favorite two weeks of the year.
But not this year. Not with ten vacationers who, like Phoebe, had probably never been on a horse. He would—
Phoebe.
The reality he’d been doing his damnedest to ignore crashed in on him with all the subtlety of a bull after a cow. Desire flared, making him hot, horny and uncomfortable. He swore, stopped, remembered how good she’d kissed, then swore again.
What had he been thinking? Which was a stupid question because he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been reacting. One minute he’d been worried that she’d lost half a finger to an inquisitive kid, the next she’d been close and soft and he’d looked at her mouth, then bam. He’d kissed her. Like an idiot. Like a man who hadn’t kissed a woman in far too long.