Breathless(20)

Later, alone in her room, Portia paced. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of her first kiss. He’d made her so breathless, it was a wonder she’d been able to mount Arizona and ride home. And Lord help her, she wanted more. A hundred times more. More of his palm moving over her spine, more of his hard body against her soft one, more of his seeking tongue. She hated to admit it, but he’d been right about it only exacerbating the problem. She felt as if she’d lost her mind.

A soft knock on the connecting door interrupted her inner tirade. “Come in,” she all but snarled.

Regan entered, took one look at Portia’s face and asked, “What’s wrong? Aunt Eddy said you and Kent went riding. Did you two argue?”

“No,” she replied tersely.

Regan studied her silently for a long moment and then asked with a grin. “Did he kiss you, sister mine?”

The snap in Portia’s eyes was her reply.

Regan stilled. “Without your consent.”

“No of course not.”

“Then, knowing you, I’m assuming you’re mad because you didn’t believe it would be so wonderful.”

“Let’s just say I had trouble remembering my name afterwards.”

Regan laughed. “I think I’m jealous.”

Portia blew out a breath. “What a na?ve ninny I am.”

“Portia, you can look at that cowboy and know he can kiss.”

Portia threw her a quelling look.

“Sorry,” her sister offered contritely, but amusement continued to play at the corners of her lips.

“I asked him to kiss me, thinking I’d be able to control my reaction.”

“You asked him?”

“I did.”

“Some things can’t be controlled.”

“I understand that now, which means no kissing Kent Randolph.”

“If you couldn’t remember your name, I’m thinking you’re not going to have much control over the future either, but I wish you luck.”

Seeing the humor in that, Portia sighed, “I’m doomed aren’t I?”

“I believe so.”

“You’re supposed to offer me hope.”

“I’m your sister, I’m supposed to offer you the truth, so when should I begin looking for a gown to wear to the wedding?”

Portia’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you horrid girl.”

The grinning Regan walked over and gave Portia a peck on the cheek. “Good night, Portia. I used to practice my kissing on the back of my hair brush. You might want to try it.”

Portia firmed her lips to keep from laughing. “Good night, Regan.”

Regan exited.

Alone, Portia wondered what she’d do without her silly little sister. Her eyes strayed to her hair brush lying on the vanity table. Chuckling, she turned away and prepared for bed.

Later, lying there in the dark, she once again weighed her options. She decided she wasn’t doomed. All she had to do was not ask for anymore of his kisses and she’d be fine. Problem solved. A voice inside laughed, but she ignored it and burrowed down to sleep.





Chapter Five




Portia and Regan entered the dining room for breakfast just as Kent was bringing a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs out of the kitchen. Seeing him brought back memories of their smoldering encounter at the canyon and Portia was torn between looking at him and not. He seemed to have no such problem.

“Morning, ladies. Help yourself to the eggs if you like.”

Regan picked up a plate. “There’s something special about a man who knows his way around a skillet. Don’t you think so, Portia?”

“I suppose” was all she allowed herself to say. A quick glance showed him watching her. She returned his gaze steadily, her way of showing she was again in control, but as if he knew his kiss had been her first conscious thought upon awakening, his eyes sparkled with teasing amusement.

Eddy followed him out with a platter of biscuits and set it down by the eggs. “Thanks for your help with breakfast, Kent. You’re going to make some woman very happy one day.”

Mentally shaking her head, Portia picked up a plate and helped herself to the offerings. When she was done she took a seat across from Regan, whose knowing grin she promptly ignored. Kent set his plate down beside Regan and everyone started in on their meal.

“What time are we leaving for Mr. Blanchard’s wake this evening?” Portia asked her aunt.

“Around six or so. Kent, would you care to go with us? I know you didn’t know him.”

“I talked with Rhine about it and I’d like to pay my respects.”

“Then you’re welcome. Buggy only sits four so you’ll have to ride.”

“I prefer horseback so that’s not a problem.”

Portia wondered when he’d take over as foreman of the Blanchard ranch. Once he stepped into the role, he’d be living over there, which would give her the distance from him that she needed. Granted, because of the dude ranch partnership, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him totally, but with him not living at the hotel maybe she could focus on something beside the way she’d felt in his arms, the sensual play of his tongue on hers, and the way he whispered, Make your lips soft, baby. Shaking herself free from the torrid memory, she looked up as Rhine entered the room.