“What do you think, Logan?”
He turned. “You’re right, it’s beautiful.”
A pleased smile curved her lips. “I don’t usually bring visitors here. It’s special to me.”
The shy admission made Logan feel ten feet tall. Merrie had shared her private, special place with him. “I’m honored. You could have taken me the long way around.”
“I did. How do you think we got here?”
He laughed and helped as she inspected their picnic site for sunning rattlesnakes, then spread a blanket in the shade beneath a tree and pulled their food from the saddlebags. A light breeze ruffled the grass, enough to keep them cool.
Bandit instantly appeared to claim his own lunch, settling a few feet away with his dog chow, the bowl of water Merrie poured for him and a meaty bone.
As they ate, Merrie talked about the ranch and its history. She had a tolerant humor for the various types of people who had visited over the years, and a clear understanding of what it took to make a dude ranch successful.
Logan was impressed. More than impressed. For all her scatterbrained, outlandish behavior, she might be able to run the place successfully.
“Where do we ride from here?” he asked when the last sandwich and brownie had been eaten. The combination of food and sun and fresh air was making him drowsy. It wasn’t surprising, considering how little he’d slept the previous night.
“We start circling at this point,” Merrie said lazily. She was lying on the blanket, hands tucked behind her head and her eyes closed. “We’ll ride the fence line to make sure it’s intact, then come down a little valley on the northwest side of this ridge.”
Logan rested on one elbow next to her. Nice. Very nice. The top of her shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the shadowed valley between her breasts. Somehow, he doubted she was aware that he could see the lacy fabric of her bra...or the faint outline of a dusky nipple.
“Uh, how important is moving the cattle today?”
She opened her eyes. “Cowboys don’t take naps, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not the one lying down.”
Merrie’s eyelids drifted down again. “Just letting the food settle.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. What about moving the cattle?”
“Hmm.” She arched her neck with languid grace. “Grandfather is matchmaking. The cattle are fine up here for another week.”
If it had been any other woman lying there, the candid admission would have sent chills of foreboding up Logan’s spine. But as much as Merrie wanted to get married, she plainly didn’t want to marry him. Paul Harding could matchmake all he liked, and nothing would come of it because his granddaughter wasn’t interested in a big city stockbroker. Which should have delighted the stockbroker in question, though somehow it didn’t.
“I see. What gave him that idea...about matchmaking?”
“You did, with all those ‘honeys’ and pleas for ’my own personal wrangler,’” she growled disgustedly. “What did you expect him to think?”
With the tip of his finger, Logan traced the intricate twists of her auburn braid. “If it was my granddaughter, I wouldn’t trust me within a mile of you.”
“You have to have children before getting grandchildren, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Besides, he doesn’t trust you...he trusts me,” Merrie said dryly.
“And I thought he was a smart man.”
“He is, but to quote a cliché, ‘hope springs eternal.’ You’re the latest volley in a campaign to make me forget the ranch...or to find someone to run it with me. Actually that’s run it for me. Grandfather doesn’t have a clue about women—the Bar Nothing would have sunk a long time ago without my grandmother.” Though her words were tart, her tone was laced with resigned amusement.
A faint frown tightened Logan’s mouth. Paul Harding didn’t strike him as a fool—he had some old-fashioned attitudes perhaps, but he definitely wasn’t a fool. He had to see that Merrie was a big reason the Bar Nothing was so popular. “Maybe he has his own reasons for not selling you the ranch. Reasons he isn’t telling you.”
Merrie lifted her head and looked at him with guarded eyes. “Such as?”
“I don’t know.” Logan shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to break your heart on this place.”
She settled down again. “Selling the family ranch to a stranger would break my heart a lot faster.”
Logan watched her a moment longer, then glanced out at the magnificent view. Bandit lay with his muzzle on his forelegs, already asleep, yet clearly responsive to the odors and sounds carried to him on the breeze. They wouldn’t have to worry about snakes if they took a nap as well—either Bandit or the horses would alert them of any problems.
Except Logan didn’t want to sleep. Merrie’s unique scent made him achingly aware of his own maleness—a heavy, throbbing heat that hadn’t completely vanished since he’d first seen her.
He touched her hair again. “It seems expensive to assign a personal wrangler to each dude,” he murmured.
For a long moment she didn’t answer, and he thought she’d drifted asleep. “Not everyone gets a personal wrangler,” she said finally.
“Oh? I’m flattered.”
She made a sound that might have been a laugh. “Sometimes it’s a one-on-one assignment, and other times a wrangler is assigned to a group of two or three. It depends on the level of riding experience.”
“Experience, eh? So much for flattery.”
“Huh.”
The gentle rise and fall of Merrie’s chest as she breathed threatened to burn Logan alive. He’d seen her in the green shadows of the tree house, full and taut with lush promise. More than anything, he wanted to trace the lacy bra...then slip his fingers beneath to cup her breasts and feel her nipples harden in response to his touch. He wanted to see her clothed only in sunlight and the warmth of his breath.
Her voice brought him back to reality. “I’ll bet you could even be a wrangler if you wanted,” she mumbled drowsily. “You’re a natural rider.”
“It really isn’t one of my life’s goals.”
“You don’t have to remind me—cowboys don’t make a lot of money. They never have.”
“Still...even if they don’t get paid a lot, it seems expensive to hire so many wranglers.”
“So is staying at the Bar Nothing.” Merrie yawned and rolled over to face him. “Logan, it could only happen in America. I told you... people have this romantic notion of cattle ranching and are willing to pay for a chance to be part of it—even if it’s only for a week. Where else could you charge someone two hundred and fifty bucks a day to sleep in a tent and get worked like a dog?”
“And you even make them set up the tent,” he drawled.
“Of course. Naturally children get a discount. We only charge a hundred and fifty if they’re under fourteen, and nothing for the under age five crowd. Not that we get many really young kids, since there isn’t a lot they can do here.”
He chuckled softly. “Come to think of it, I never asked about my discount.”
“You can afford it.”
Could he? Logan wasn’t worried about the money, but a much bigger cost—the damage to his peace of mind. Merrie made him take every good intention he’d ever formed and toss it to the wind. She was dangerous.
“Honey, about that friend stuff...?”
Her face got suspicious. “What about it?”
“It isn’t going to work.”
“Sure it is. You’re in a terrific place, with lots of good food and fresh air. What do you need sex for?”
His jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious, could she? He sneaked a peak at her earnest green eyes and shook his head. Darned if she wasn’t.
“I can’t pretend to be friends.”
“We agreed—”
“I don’t care what we agreed,” he said, frustrated. “I was going to try to keep things neutral like you wanted, only I couldn’t stop thinking about you. T
hen I decided to be sneaky—to pretend to go along and still try to seduce you, but I can’t, dammit. You aren’t the kind of woman a man sneaks around.”
“Well, you can’t seduce me, either!”
“Don’t make a bet on it.”
She glared and set her chin, and it occurred to him that she was right. Seduce was the wrong word. Merrie might be relatively innocent, but she wasn’t a woman easily swayed. Anything she did would be of her own free choice.
“Okay. I can’t seduce you,” he agreed. “But think about it...an uncomplicated, hot affair might be just what you need.” Logan’s tone lowered. “And it would be hot. I promise.”
“Sorry. I’m not into one-night stands.”
His breath hissed out harshly. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Her eyes were sad and wistful at the same time, and he could see the battle waging between her mind and her body. “Whether it lasted a month or six months, it would still be a one-night stand,” she whispered.
“It wouldn’t be like that.” Logan wasn’t sure what he was protesting. On a gut level, he knew making love to her would be unique. Special. Something he’d always treasure. “Please, honey, give it a chance. You’re attracted to me, I know you are. And you’ve been working so hard to get this ranch, you’ve forgotten how to have fun. So have I. We can teach each other to relax.”
The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed fiercely. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I...” He stopped. Maybe he didn’t. Men and women looked at sex in different ways. For one thing, he had to admit that men were a lot less discriminating.
Hell.
Logan’s eyes widened as a new thought struck him—he didn’t actually know what any woman looked for in a relationship. It was possible he really didn’t have anything to offer Merrie beyond a hot affair. The thought was...disturbing.
“Why does it have to be all or nothing with you?” he asked, his voice edged with desperation. He’d never wanted anything so much as he wanted Merrie. She was so different from the women he knew—no calculation in her eyes, just a baffling honesty and single-minded determination.
“I can’t change the way I am.” Merrie bit the inside of her mouth as she watched Logan stare back at her.
Was she crazy?
A woman could spend her entire life without meeting a man like Logan Kincaid, much less have him desire her with such intensity. On top of which, he didn’t act all conceited—a lot of men with his looks and money would be impossible.
Merrie reached out and touched the crisp lock of brown hair falling over his forehead.
“I guess we’re not that different in some ways,” she murmured, unable to keep from scooting closer. He was warm and strong, and she ached with a hunger that food couldn’t satisfy.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re right. We’ve been working so hard we’ve both forgotten to have fun. Not that I’m saying we should have an affair,” Merrie added hastily.
“Of course not.”
She touched the tiny laugh lines bracketing Logan’s mouth and the strong curve of his chin, telling herself it was just curiosity. After all, she didn’t need to touch him.
Liar.
Merrie sighed. She wasn’t good at self-deception. Her body clamored for the kind of embrace he’d given her in the barn...shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, infused with blatant intimacy. There had to be a way of fixing things.
“We could help each other,” she said huskily. “I mean, as friends and stuff.”
“Uh, sure. Friends are important.”
His eyes had a glazed look and Merrie felt a secret surge of triumph. “And friends kiss sometimes. It doesn’t have to go further than that.”
“God...” he groaned, sliding his hand around her nape. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Tit for tat,” she whispered.
Muttering something about half a loaf, Logan fastened his lips over hers. In the back of Merrie’s mind she’d expected it to be calmer this time. Not so passionate. A simple kiss to ease the tension...sort of like drinking a Bloody Mary to cure a hangover.
She hadn’t thought the ache could get worse.
It did, and the realization was as frightening as the power Logan seemed to have over her body. Yet she didn’t want it to end, and she dropped her head, inviting a deeper caress. In answer, he thrust his tongue between her teeth and stroked the inner softness he found.
Velvet to velvet, fire to fire.
Of their own accord, Merrie’s fingers explored Logan’s arms and back, memorizing the hard shape of him. Learning each muscle, bunching and releasing as he moved. She’d never forget this moment, taken out of time and space, and provoking her with a soul-burning passion.
“Pure honey,” Logan breathed into her mouth.
“No, just brownies,” Merrie managed to sass between his gliding forays. “A touch of chocolate aphrodisiac.”
He lifted over her slightly, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the tree and sky above them. “I don’t need any chocolate...or anything else to tempt me.”
Merrie shifted restlessly, driven by the tense need that licked her senses. It was magic...warmth pouring from the sun, the purity of Montana air, and this man who made her feel more than she’d ever felt in her life.
“Logan,” she whispered, “what am I going to do with you?”
“I’d probably shock you with any suggestions.”
His white teeth gleamed in a smile, a sharp contrast to his tanned skin, and she wondered where he’d gotten his sun-bronzed color. She couldn’t see Logan using a tanning booth at the local gym—he might be almost perfect, but he wasn’t vain.
“How can a stockbroker get so tanned?” she murmured.
“Corner office with a window. Isn’t success great?”
She punched him lightly in the ribs and he chuckled. “Actually I do most of my own yard work. And I run whenever I have time—I don’t like treadmills, so that leaves the great outdoors.”
That explained why he was so strong. There were several acres on his property—composed of both woodland and landscaped garden, requiring a lot of effort. Running and working outdoors were an incongruous match to a stockbroker, but nothing about Logan was especially logical.
“No gardener, huh?”
“Nope.”
“I thought all wealthy people had gardeners. It’s kind of a status symbol.”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I know you don’t believe me, but money is just a scorecard, Merrie. That’s all. And I enjoy hard work, so why pay someone else to do it for me?”
“I guess.”
Logan called money a scorecard, but his life seemed to be built around that scorecard. It really wasn’t her concern. She’d already interfered enough, dragging him to the ranch. Maybe he would have been better off sleeping on a beach and being bored. Still...he was so different from what she’d expected. So much more alive and vital. It seemed such a waste for him to spend his life closed-up in an office.
Lifting her hand, she traced the strong contours of his face, the dark eyebrows, sculpted cheekbones...his sensual mouth. Without seeming to move, he caught her finger between his lips and sucked for an instant.
Heat rolled through Merrie, melting her into the blanket and the earth beneath. What would Logan say if he knew his sexy asides and hints didn’t shock her as much as he thought? Oh, they made her hot and uncomfortable inside, but it had little to do with embarrassment.
“May...maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she whispered as he kissed her again...long, drugging kisses that didn’t seem to begin or end, so much as sweep over her like the tumbling currents of an ceaseless ocean wave.
“It’s a hell of an idea,” he muttered.
Half hell. Half heaven, Logan thought to himself, and he groaned into her sweet mouth. He hadn’t expected to touch her again, not so soon. Merrie Foster had an iron will. It was no surprise that her ancestors had been early
settlers, carving a home from the wild land. They’d passed on their stubborn determination...the spirit and will never to quit.
He tugged at the end of her braid, then began separating the long strands from their confinement. Some devil or instinct made him want to see Merrie surrounded by the shimmering layers of her hair, as though she’d just wakened in his bed.
She was everything and more than he’d dreamed about in the past two days. Her skin, delicately flushed with sultry warmth. Her eyes...heavy-lidded and darkened to a lustrous malachite. Her hair in all its bright glory, spread across the blanket and grass.
Without conscious thought, he’d unbuttoned her shirt to her waist, and now he brushed the cloth away from the feminine bounty it framed, more than concealed.
“No...” Merrie protested, shaking like an aspen leaf in the wind. “We agreed...just a kiss.”
“Just a kiss,” he repeated, dipping down to kiss the flushed crown of her left breast. “Sweet...so damned sweet,” he muttered, gliding his tongue across the lace-covered mound and prompting a broken cry from her throat.
Merrie was so responsive, it seemed impossible she could be inexperienced. He knew she wanted him. She moved in concert with his body, touching as much as she was touched. Demanding the same response that he demanded. Matched perfectly.
Logan undid the front clasp of the bra and thrust it aside.
“L...Logan?” she said hoarsely.
“I’m here,” he breathed, drawing the velvety hardness of her nipple into his mouth, while his fingers played with the other, tugging gently at the rigid peak. It was all he could do to keep from dragging the zipper of her jeans down...to discover the hidden warmth between her legs.
“Logan...no.” Merrie pushed his shoulders with surprising strength and he groaned.
“Honey...”
“No. The stormy, unhappy note to her voice sliced him in two. ”We have to stop.”
Logan groaned again, his body arched in frustration. But it was Merrie’s choice. Wholly.
He rolled away and stared at the rugged landscape. Here he was, stuck on a ranch with a woman who turned him on harder and faster than any woman he’d ever met before. A forever kind of woman who just wanted to be friends.
The Marriage Stampede (Wranglers & Lace #5) Page 8
