Riding for Love (A Western Romance) (11 page)

“I sure as hell hope not,” he murmured, feeling her slip the strap lower. He opened his eyes as she put his foot back into the stirrup. She circled around the front of Della, all the while talking in calm tones to the horse, or maybe to him. He saw no reason to keep the horse calm. After all, he was the one sitting a mile in the air and the horse couldn’t trip and fall, could she?

Eve took his right ankle and removed his foot from the stirrup, lowered the strap for adjustment, and replaced his foot. She stepped back.

“Okay, now I want you to stand in the stirrups and ease yourself back down into a centered, comfortable position.”

“You mean like the ground?”

“Funny man. How do you feel?”

Denton peered down at the top of her hat. “Like I’ve boarded a gargantuan horse.”

“Funny, funny man.” She patted his knee.

Even as nervous as he was, the touch went straight to his groin.

“Now, when Della starts moving, I want you to sway your hips to the movement of her gait. Like this.” Eve turned her back to him and rolled her hips side-to-side. “Slow and easy.”

What the hell did she think she was doing? Slow and easy? Hell, his thoughts rode her fast and furious. His cock swelled. If Eve didn’t stop swaying her hips, he, well, there was not much he could do from his perch.

He shifted in the seat, squeezing his legs muscles to stop a full-blown erection. Della moved sideways and all thoughts of Eve’s warm hand and rocking hips fled. With a knee-jerk reaction, he pulled up on the reins and yelped.

Eve turned. The shock on Eve’s face told him rein pulling and yanking the bit into Della’s mouth was not a wise choice. It was his last thought before disaster struck.

Chapter 9

Eve wearily climbed the steps to her porch and went around to the side entrance. She dropped to a scarred, high-backed bench, and with a bootjack, slid off her boots. Sage-scented cool air in the entryway washed over her aching body.

On most days, she’d peel off her dirty clothes, drop them into the basket in the laundry room off the back door, take a shower in the adjoining bathroom, and either fix some supper or join her guests in the lodge. After watching some television or doing the dreaded bookwork, she’d fall into bed.

Not tonight.

“The hell with a shower,” she muttered, peeling off her shirt and bra. “The hell with supper,” followed, along with her dirt-encrusted pants. She yanked off her sweaty socks and panties. She shuddered at the amount of dirt dropping on the floor.

“The hell with guests and, mostly, the hell with one Denton Johanson.” Naked, Eve stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, went into the bathroom, and turned on the hot water to the whirlpool. Adding some soothing bath salts, she stretched her aching muscles, and eased into the tub.

“Damn, I hope he’s as sore tomorrow as I am.” She slid down and let the water rise to her chin, then pressed the button on the side of the tub to let the pulsating jets pound her skin. She maneuvered several of them to hit her lower back and the sides of her rear.

She closed her eyes and snapped them open when visions of how close they had come to a real disaster this morning.

“Damn, damn, damn,” she screeched, smacking her fists against the water with each word.

All the blame couldn’t be placed completely on Denton. Had she been paying better attention to what was going on in the yard, Denton wouldn’t have overreacted to Della’s head tossing. Even so, it was strange the mare had taken off like a racehorse at a starting gate.

No, Eve had been too busy reacting to his touch; his hands and arms as they tacked Della, his ankles and legs as Eve adjusted the stirrups to accommodate his long legs. Her fingers had actually shaken when she put her hand on his knee. As if her fingers had a power of their own, an itch needing to be relieved, she’d caressed Denton’s leg. Had the horse not gone bonkers on her, she probably would have skimmed it farther up his leg until . . .

Her stomach muscles clenched. Warm bubbles swished over her breasts. She envisioned Denton’s warm mouth washing them. Her nipples hardened. Her hand slid down her stomach and reached her curls.

“Shit,” she muttered, slamming her fists into the water again. “Stop! This is what caused today’s problems in the first place. But he didn’t have to blame me because I showed him how to move by swaying my hips back and forth. Hell, I use that technique with all my clients.”

Why on earth had the mild-mannered, half-asleep mare decided to take off like a year-old filly, knocking Eve flat on her keester? After one shocking moment, she jumped up and raced after them. The memory of Denton’s arms whipping up and down like a goose with broken wings, yelling at the poor horse to stop, made her laugh in retrospect.

Before Denton and Della crashed into other riders, Tom ran over, grabbed the bridle, yelling “whoa” and finally settled her down.

As if he’d dismounted a million times, Denton slipped his foot out of the stirrup, brought his right leg over the horse’s rump, leaned into the saddle, and gently dropped to the ground.

Eve reached them as Denton stepped away from Tom and the horse. His legs gave out and in a cloud of dust, toppled over. Her legs tangled with his, and she landed face first in the dirt, the brim of her hat slamming hard enough to fly off, her stomach lying across his torso. His breath whooshed out with a grunt.

“Bring back memories of how we first met?”

“Not funny, Dent.” She pushed up on her arms, spit dirt, and glanced around. Everyone acted like statues, arms paused in mid-action, faces stoned into shock. Dennis raced over and gave her a hand up.

After assuring him she was fine and telling him to return to his clients, Eve glanced down at Denton. With his eyes closed, lips and cheeks covered in pasture dust, his breath came in short spurts. He’d opened his green eyes, the color a sure sign of distress.

Her heart caught in her throat when the corners of lips rose in a smile. “Guess I should have waited to learn to stop before I learned to go?”

Eve groaned at the memory. She slid down under the water to wet her hair. “Denton and his tight jeans.” A double dose of shampoo came out of the bottle. “Denton and his green eyes; no, blue eyes; no, sexy eyes.” She dunked under the water again, came up, and wiped water from her face. “Denton and a smile that could set fire to the Atlantic Ocean.”

She squirted an extra amount of conditioner into her hand. After running it through her hair, she grabbed a sponge, squirted on bath soap, and scrubbed as if covered in a year’s worth of dirt rather than a day’s dose of dust.

She needed to give him credit, though. Without saying another word, he’d stood, walked calmly to Della, took the reins from Tom and, after talking to the mare in a quiet voice, led her to the mounting box. To Eve’s surprise, he mounted and waited patiently for her to continue the lesson.

She’d vowed not to touch the man during lessons. Easier said than done. It was better to guide a person’s hands than tell them how to hold the reins properly, or how much pressure to use when brushing with a dandy brush. Showing someone how to lift and pick a horse’s hooves put bodies in close contact.

Except for a brief moment of laughter when Della had let loose a blast of gas when they sponged around her dock, by the end of the lesson, Eve’s back and neck were tense enough to create a headache.

After stepping from the tub, she applied coconut-scented body lotion and dried her hair. Wearing a long, white fluffy robe and a pair of socks, she went downstairs to eat before tackling the day’s books. With a plate of cheese and crackers and a glass of wine in her hands, she went into her office.

The blinds were closed earlier in the day to keep out the heat. Rays of the nearly setting sun seeped through the blinds, casting warm, golden shadows throughout the room. Her office faced the backyard and cabins, making her doubly glad the blinds afforded her privacy.

After turning on her desk light, she set the supper tray on the desktop and plopped into her chair, wincing when her backside met with the seat. Bruises came with owning a ranch, but with the picnic and swimming tomorrow, she wished they wouldn’t be on her behind and the backs of her legs.

Hopefully, the staff wouldn’t tell the others she’d fallen over a bale of hay and landed on the concrete floor. After the morning fiasco, they’d probably wondered about her expertise as an instructor. Damn Denton. That fall, too, was his fault, even though he hadn’t even been in the building. She’d overheard Sherry and Todd mention his name. Wanting to hear their conversation, she turned around too quickly, lost her footing, bumped into a stall door, and fell backward over the bale.

A sigh welled forth from deep inside her before she took a sip of wine. She grabbed the notes her staff made each day on their client’s lessons and started perusing them. Luckily she didn’t need to do the same.

How could she explain the feelings evoked by touching Denton, and how much she wished someone else could take over his lessons before she did something incredibly stupid?

She set the reports down and picked up a note from Tom. A frown marred her brow.

Eve, I had to leave before we had a chance to talk. I was concerned about Della’s reactions today and decided to check the tack. I found a thorn deeply imbedded in her stirrup strap. It must have poked her flank. It was what probably set her off. Not sure how it could have gotten there. Another “accident?” We’re lucky Denton didn’t get hurt. We need to find out what’s going on and put a stop to these incidents. Talk to you tomorrow. Love, Tom

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Eve put the note on her desk and got up to refill her glass. Tom was right. They had to get to the bottom of these incidents. On the way back to her office, she jumped at a light rap on the porch door, spilling her drink down the front of her robe.

“Damn it all, anyway,” she moaned, blotting at the stain with a rag she found sitting on a bench by the door. She glanced at the clock in the living room. “Ten o’clock. This had better be important,” she murmured. Thinking Tom had returned to talk tonight or, worse yet, to tell her about another accident, she yanked open the door.

“Denton,” she gasped, grabbing the neckline of her robe together. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um,” he stammered, looking at her from her damp hair, robe, and stocking feet to her face.

“It’s late, Denton. What do you want?”

“I couldn’t sleep and saw your light go on.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh, can I come in?”

Eve hesitated. Not a good idea. It would be like playing with fire, but like many foolish women who couldn’t resist a handsome, sexy man, she mentally lit a match, swung open the door and stepped aside.

The entryway shrunk considerably with his presence. She moved quickly into the open living room-kitchen area and sensed Denton following. Her pulse hitched like the gait of a horse galloping across a prairie. She set her glass of wine on an end table, took a deep breath, and tugged the tie of her robe tighter.

A low wolf-whistle had her whirling around ready to give him a piece of her mind for using such a macho-man tactic on her.
What the hell
? He wasn’t even paying attention to her. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or pissed. Her ego had been smacked broadside.

Denton’s gaze swept around the room. “Eve, this place is incredible. I can’t believe it’s the same house.”

Instead of the several dark rooms of the original house, an expansive room extended from the living room in the front of the house to the kitchen facing the yard. Massive windows rose from floor to ceiling at one end of the living room to a corner fireplace. He imagined how bright and cheery this room would be in the daylight and wondered if this was Eve’s way of getting rid of the darkness of her childhood. None of the windows held curtains, but were merely encased in oak woodwork; simple, yet classy. The couch sat at an angle facing the fireplace. Combined with a love seat, recliner, coffee table, and several antique tables holding flickering candles sitting around the room, the room was warm and inviting.

He easily envisioned the two of them nestled on the full-size couch, fire in the fireplace burning low, music playing softly, each with a drink, a game of cribbage in progress—strip cribbage. Cheating at cribbage was difficult, but he’d manage to get her down to her skivvies in no time. Then . . .

“Denton, what do you want?”

So wrapped up in his erotic daydream, he didn’t hear her question.

“Denton Johanson, either talk to me or get out of here.”

“Sorry, Eve,” he said, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “I was admiring the fantastic job you’ve done to this place.”

“You remember how bad this place was. I had to make it livable.” She turned her back on him and moved toward the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure.”

Denton watched her hips sway as she moved to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of wine, grabbed a glass hanging upside down in a wineglass rack, and poured. Even though the terrycloth covered her body from neckline to ankle, the robe set his imagination back into gear. He hoped it wasn’t a dry wine because his throat was dry enough on its own.

“Ah, who did you get to do the work?” he asked, taking the glass, keeping his eyes from her luscious body.

Eve picked up wine and crossed her arms, resting the bottom of the glass on her top arm. “Tom and I pretty much did everything but the wiring and plumbing. Took a long time, but was worth it.”

“I’ll say.”

“Would you like to see the rest?”

“Sure.” He’d do anything to stay with her a while longer and maybe they’d make it to her bedroom. He followed her toward the back door, then stopped in the doorway to her office.

“This is where I do the part of the business I absolutely hate.”

Denton smiled and glanced around her cozy room. “Well, some things never change. I recall how much you hated being inside doing schoolwork. It always amazed me how many ways you found to do schoolwork outside, or avoid your books altogether.”

Eve returned his grin and his heart skipped a beat. She sat in her desk chair and pointed to her computer. “Do you blame me? It’s a little difficult hauling this outside, but I can still come up with a zillion excuses not to do bookwork. I can only ignore them for so long or end up with late night hours. Like tonight.”

Denton moved into the room. Again he whistled. Full bookcases covered three sides of the office. He imagined her staring out the large picture window instead of working. “You have quite a collection of books.”

“I, uh, grew to love reading. Thanks to you.”

He pulled a worn copy of Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
from the shelf and flipped open the cover.
To Eve. Thanks for the ‘crash course’ on falling in love. A favorite book of mine for a
favorite girl of mine. All my love, Dent.
He didn’t remember writing that.

He ran his fingers over the print. What did she think when she read his words? Did she remember the good times, or only the bad at the end? He closed the book, replaced it on the shelf and continued his tour of the room.

He sensed Eve’s eyes on him, but by the time he’d finished his tour and returned to her desk, she was flipping through some papers. He stopped behind her chair and breathed deeply. Taking in her scent reminded him of the times they spent at the beach the summer before he left for college. She obviously had come from the shower not too long ago. Her damp hair flowed in waves down her back. The urge to lift the thick mass in his hands and bury his face in the crook of her neck overwhelmed him. He leaned over her shoulder, grasping his glass tighter, digging his nails into his palm.