Breathless(29)

Instead of the usual high-collared blouse and flowing skirt, Portia showed up at the ranch the next morning striding to the bunkhouse in a pair of snug-fitting denims. Kent almost fell off the roof. Taking in the bewitching sight, he whispered appreciatively, “Damn.” So mesmerized was he watching her walk, he only belatedly noted her black flat-crowned hat, red flannel man’s shirt, and the red bandana tied around her throat.

Matt, working beside him on the roof, glanced up to see what had grabbed his attention. He eyed Portia, took a look up at Kent, shook his head, and went back to nailing shingles.

Kent ignored him.

“Good morning,” he called down to her.

The unconventional picture she presented made him want to drag her behind the barn, but she’d come to help, so he had to put thoughts of slowly unbuttoning her shirt and placing kisses against the vee of her throat out of mind. At least for the time being. “Come on up,” he invited.

She climbed the ladder and joined them. “Morning, Matt.”

He nodded. “Morning, ma’am.”

Up close she looked even more delicious and Kent wondered how in the hell he was supposed to keep the distance Rhine wanted when she looked good enough to eat. “Are you ready to get to work?”

“I am.”

For the next hour, she worked beside him and proved she not only knew what she was doing but knew far more about laying shingles than Matt, who Kent had to show more than a few times how to line them up and the best spot to place the nails. Portia worked quietly and efficiently. Kent found himself savoring the curve of her gorgeous behind in the denims and the vee of her throat bared by the two undone buttons of her shirt. She even graced him with a few of her rare smiles, which resulted in his hammering his thumb instead of a nail. He cursed, stuck the thumb into his mouth and cursed some more.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stopping to eye him.

“No.” He’d sent Matt after more nails, so the two of them were on the roof alone. “I’m being distracted by a duchess in denims.”

“I can’t very well work up here in a skirt.” She drove in a couple more nails and moved to the next shingle. “Do you need a bandage?”

The thumb throbbed. “No. It’ll be bruised for a few days but I’ll live.”

“You should pay attention to what you’re doing.”

“There isn’t a man alive who can pay attention with your lovely little behind waving before his eyes like that.”

“It’s not waving.”

“Maybe not but it is lovely and very distracting. Makes me want to set your garters on fire.”

“Is that all men think about?” She positioned another shingle and expertly placed the nails.

“I can only speak for myself, but when it’s you—yes.”

She looked his way. “This roof will never get done if you can’t concentrate. Shall I leave?”

“And deprive me of the fantasies playing in my head? Not on your life.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m not going to ask.”

“That’s probably for the best but hopefully sometime soon I’ll get to show you.”

Her eyes met his and he wondered if she knew he could see the heat they held. “Interested, I see.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You’re fibbing again, Duchess.”

“And you’re supposed to be nailing shingles.”

He wanted to nail something all right—real slow and real thorough like, but decided to keep that to himself. “Yes, ma’am.”

As the first hour melted into the second, Portia became more and more aware of his nearby presence and her growing inner heat. She wanted to blame it on the sun but knew it stemmed from the outrageous bearded cowboy working a few feet away. They made a good team, even if Matt was more of hindrance than a help, and they’d gotten a good portion of the roof done. Society frowned on women doing such work but she enjoyed the physical exercise and how strong she felt both inside and out. Kent however made her feel female by the way he looked at her, the way he smiled, and it added to the simmer in her blood. She wondered what kind of fantasies he had on his mind and, yes, she was fibbing saying she didn’t want to know. Setting another shingle in place, she decided she really needed to put his distracting presence out of her mind, but so far hadn’t found a way to do so. Because you don’t want to. She shushed the inner voice and continued working.

The sun was climbing to its zenith and the temperature soaring when Eddy drove up in a wagon. She’d brought lunch, and a tired starving Portia was glad to climb down from the roof. After using the water in the kitchen to rinse away the sheen of perspiration on her face and neck and to wash her hands, she joined Kent, Matt, Farley, and Buck on the porch to eat the sandwiches along with the salted and fried thinly sliced potatoes Rhine’s partner Jim Dade had made so popular at the saloon in Virginia City. There was also cake and jugs of lemonade to wash it all down.

Kent popped one of the salted potato slices in his mouth and sighed with pleasure. “These are so good. Haven’t had any since Virginia City. Thanks, Eddy.”

“You’re welcome. And I may have found you a cook. Luz Salinas has helped out here in the past and her daughter, Gabriella, says she’s willing to hire on full-time as housekeeper, too, but she wants to live in so she doesn’t have to travel back and forth. Rhine will pay her salary of course.”