Once Tempted (23 page)

But the brim of his hat was angled downward—the better to study her new boots, she assumed. With his gaze shielded, she found the temptation impossible to resist. Yup, his crotch was truly the finest eye candy: yummy and calorie free.

Oh, yes, he was fine. He could probably star in one of those calendars. Twelve Months of Ward Knowles. It’d be an instant bestseller on account of its broad appeal. After all, he could do hunky businessman as well as hunky cowboy. It was really a toss-up as to which version was more devastating.

And to think that just a few months ago she’d pooh-poohed the appeal of a virile cowboy.

But maybe it was just one virile cowboy who’d changed her worldview.

He raised his head and, though she couldn’t quite see his eyes, the smile that played over his mouth made her think he’d figured out where her own eyes had repeatedly strayed. “So, you like the boots.”

“Yeah. I do. I can’t believe you bought them. Can I pay—”

His mouth pursed as if he’d tasted something sour. He tipped his head back so that their eyes locked. “This was a present.”

She’d insulted him. It was one thing to exchange barbs with him when he was being bossy and domineering, another when he had shown his generosity. “Then thank you,” she answered quietly. “They’re pretty darned snazzy.”

“And functional. They’ll get the job done and look good doing it. Like you.” He didn’t give her time to let the compliment go to her head. “Come and meet Silver Creek’s newest resident.”

Quinn had named the foal Gold Rush because, Ward said, he would end up the same color as his mother, whose coat was a lovely reddish gold, with a pale blond mane and tail. The baby horse was beautiful. Comical-looking, too, his ridiculously long legs like the stilts the revelers used during Carnevale celebrations. While his mother munched noisily on grain, Rush had alternately pranced and dashed around the pen—showing off, Ward explained with a soft laugh. The sound had Rush’s fuzzy ears swiveling back and forth.

Abruptly exhausted by his performance, the foal had sunk slowly, awkwardly, onto his knees by his mother’s hooves. He lay quietly, his tiny nose moving the straw with each exhalation. Slowly his large eyes closed and he slept.

Tess snapped a final picture. She’d taken dozens, recognizing they’d be a hit with the growing number of Silver Creek Ranch’s followers. Although Rush was adorable, her heart belonged to Angie and her twin brother, Arlo.

They left mother and foal napping in the barn.

“What time are your parents leaving tomorrow?” Tess asked.

“They’ve got an early flight out of San Fran to Aiken. Reid’s driving them. On his way back he’s got appointments at some vineyards in Sonoma.”

“I’ll have to make sure I post these pictures tonight then so your parents will have something to enjoy while they’re waiting for their flight.” She slipped her iPhone into her jacket pocket.

“Good idea. Knowing Mom, she’ll pass around her phone. I’d lay odds she’ll get a good portion of the airport to sign up to the ranch’s Twitter account.”

“She’s a talented woman.”

“Mm-hmm, and determined. So, you done for the day?”

“No, I’ve got to head over to the kitchen and give Jeff my shopping list.”

“Is this shopping list for the Italian home-cooked meal Jeff’s been talking about?”

“Word’s spread, huh?” Tess wasn’t surprised. Ward and his family often wandered into the kitchen: Adele to discuss the menu; Reid to consult on wine pairings; Ward and his father to exchange insults about their favorite soccer teams; Quinn to plan the kitchen garden and occasionally wait on tables.

“It’s superseded the ongoing debate of who’s going to advance to the European finals this year.”

“That’s a nontopic. Italy will win the cup. So the dinner’s the number one topic? Now I know I’ll burn it.” She paused, acutely aware that her heartbeat had accelerated before she’d even voiced her next words. “Are you busy tomorrow? You could join us if you aren’t.”

She prayed she’d managed to sound casual enough. And the invitation was entirely justified. The man had just given her a pair of seriously great boots.

“How could I pass up a chance to eat homemade Italian
food—burnt or otherwise?” His smile set off tiny sparks of desire inside her, as bright as a hundred sparklers streaming through the night, and she knew that burning the dinner would be the least of her worries tomorrow night.

If he smiled like that again, it would be she who caught fire.

I
T TOOK A
mere four hours after Adele and Daniel’s departure for the first crisis to strike. Tess was going over the wedding invitations for Carrie and Brian one last time, checking for typos before she emailed the file to the stationer, when Anita Garcia, the head of housekeeping, rushed into her office in a state of hysteria.

Tess spun around in her chair to stare in dismay at the older woman’s pale face. She hurried forward and placed an arm about her bowed, heaving shoulders.

“Anita, what’s happened? Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”

Tess’s Spanish was good, but Anita’s distress made her speech nearly incomprehensible. All Tess could gather was that there was something terribly wrong with one of the cabins—she wasn’t sure but thought it was Mariposa or Monterey. The “M” was the only decipherable sound.

Ignoring the visions of ax murderers or rabid wolves dancing in her head, Tess ushered her out of the office. Maybe a glass of water or a cup of bracing hot tea would calm Anita, and they could get to the bottom of this.

They met Ward in the hallway. His frown told her he’d heard the commotion from his office.

“¿
Qué pasa
, Anita?”

At the concern in Ward’s voice, Anita’s face crumpled and she raised a fist to her mouth.

“It’s something to do with one of the guest cabins. I was thinking a glass of water might help.”

“Yeah, or whiskey.
Todo estará bien. Prometo
.”

In the staff room they sat Anita down on the sage twill sofa while Tess hurried into the kitchen for a glass of lemon water.

When she returned, Ward was crouching by the sofa, listening to Anita’s choked whisper. He rose as she passed Anita the glass.

“Anita says the Mariposa Lodge was trashed by the guests who checked out this morning.”

“I told Roo about Anita. She’s sending Heather in with some cookies to sit with her until she’s feeling more herself.”

Heather, one of Roo’s assistants, came in before Tess had finished her sentence, bearing a plate of Roo’s finest baked goodies.

“Thanks, Heather,” Ward said.

“No problem. I was due a break anyway.”

Ward turned back to her. “I’m going to check out the lodge.”

Anita lowered the glass of water and spoke, her voice somewhat calmer. “I came to you, Teresa, because Señora Knowles and you have been checking the rooms—”

“I’ll go take a look at it right now,” she assured Anita. “I hope they didn’t break anything.”

The housekeeper lowered her head, mumbling something that Tess didn’t even bother to interpret. They’d find out what had upset her shortly.

The door to the one-bedroom cabin was ajar and Anita’s cleaning cart was parked against the cedar siding.

“She must have hightailed it out of there,” Ward observed. “Maybe I should go in first.”

“Be my guest,” Tess said with an exaggerated sweep of her arm. She wasn’t nearly so worried that an ax murderer would attempt to machete her or a wild beast devour her with Ward by her side.

“Such hospitality.” His grin matched her attempt at lightheartedness.

Ward stepped inside and she followed, nearly slamming into him when he stopped abruptly. “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t—” she began, only to have the rest of her sentence die away. Like Ward, she stood mute before the sight that greeted them.

Holy cannoli.

Except it wasn’t cannoli she was looking at, but thick chocolate and bright raspberry smears covering the walls. And that was just the beginning. Her gaze crisscrossed the wrecked bedroom, and it was like running her eyes over the weekend’s dessert menu. In addition to the chocolate and raspberry coulis streaks, there was mocha whipped cream, lavender frosting, and what must have been mango ice cream. A veritable smorgasbord.

It was one thing to be identifying the foodstuff. Quite another to realize that the streaks weren’t random. They were prints. Human body prints. Naked human body prints. Smeared yet recognizable, they covered the walls and armchairs. Even the rugs. The unmade bed, with its formerly snow-white sheets, had seen a whole lot of dessert. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the bathroom looked like. At least the marble was washable.…

“These two guests must have some kind of sweet tooth.” Her voice was a stunned whisper.

“Jesus, this gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘action painting.’ They damn well better leave a positive review on TripAdvisor.”

His comment had her bursting into appalled laughter. Ward’s own, lower and rueful, joined hers.

When she was finally able to control her hilarity, she offered, “They obviously appreciated the room service.”

“I’ll say.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “And they must have liked the room—they certainly made good use of it.”

“Every square inch.”

“Do you think we should tell Roo that we now have positive proof her molten chocolate cake is orgasmic?”

She muffled a snort. “Or that her mango-ginger ice cream has decidedly stimulating properties?”

Ward shook his head. “No, we’d better not. She might try to outdo herself. I’m not sure we can afford any more such enthusiastic responses.”

“I’m not sure that any could top this couple’s.”

“They certainly were creative.”

“Yeah.” Tess stared at an orange body print of a woman’s very round breasts. The outline was especially striking against what had formerly been an ecru wall. She’d gotten good at memorizing the different paint colors for when she had to contact Walter, the ranch’s handyman, after she or Adele discovered walls that had been scuffed or dinged.

The damage done to the cabin was going to require a lot more than one of Walter’s touch-ups. Tess decided it was far better—and safer—to fixate on the amount of paint and soap Walter was going to need rather than obsess about the naked woman who’d been pressed up against the wall … backward and forward.

“Have you got your phone? I left mine in my office when I heard Anita.”

“Sure.” She drew her phone from the pocket of her belted sweater and passed it to him. But instead of calling someone—Walter, for instance—he began taking pictures of the walls and furnishings.

“These are for the lawyer,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “We need to document the destruction so he can pursue damages if the guests balk. Oh, and even though these photos will be on your camera, I don’t think they should be included in your tweets or posted on your Pinterest board.”

“A shame. If anything has a chance of going viral, this would be it. Then again, my mom just convinced our priest, who’s big on sheep and cuddly lambs—the whole flock thing, you know—to follow my tweets. I’d rather not cause him to have a heart attack.”

Ward gave a bark of laughter, then they fell silent once again, staring at the destruction around them.

It wasn’t often one chanced upon the aftermath of an all-out, all-you-can-eat sexual binge. The sight was surreal. Grotesque, yet strangely and most definitely arousing.

Never had Tess been more acutely aware of Ward’s intense masculinity. Or his strength. He could have her stripped bare and pressed against that wall, driving into her slick, aching heat in seconds. And she’d be urging him on, wrapping her legs against his pumping flanks, digging her nails into his broad shoulders.

She wouldn’t need to have her body slathered in sweet cream or frosting, however. Far more important would be the feel of his hot flesh rubbing against hers, the scratch of the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks against her lips, and the salty, masculine taste of him as she nibbled and licked her way over his body. Her breath hitched, her body tightening in unbearable need.

It was pointless to deny it anymore. She had the hots
for this man. Serious hots. Walking into this room that, thanks to its previous occupants, screamed “sexual marathon,” had brought her simmering need to a full, insistent boil. There was no ignoring the heat rising from her … or from him. The space between them sizzled with awareness.