“Is what because of your dad?”
“Your hesitancy to kiss me.”
“No.” He said the word with such conviction that Gloria believed him. Hard not to when he had such a good, honest face. She couldn’t imagine Dillon lying. Reaching up, she touched the whiskers on his jaw. She loved his jaw. So strong, so masculine.
“Red...”
She dropped her hand, smiled and started walking again, because she’d made her decision and if Dillon was reluctant? Well, he wouldn’t be for long. He didn’t say another word until they were standing on the street outside the hotel. Moving up onto one of the steps so she was on level with him, she turned, rested her hands on his shoulders and said, “Do you know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think I’m going to kiss you.”
His chest rose. “You’re killing me.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re killing me, too.”
“Sounds like a match.”
“Yes, it does.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his and the heavens opened, raining release and freedom on her. She held the sides of his face while he crushed her lips, scalding her with his tongue, letting her know how much he wanted this, too.
Then Gloria pulled away, smiled and said, “Good night, Dillon.” She grazed his cheek with the very tips of her fingers. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
WHAT THE HELL was Red up to, kissing him like that last night? He’d been trying to hold back for her sake, not his. So, did she want to start up again? Was that it?
If she did, she hadn’t said a word about it this morning. Just sat beside him in the truck for the entire drive, smiling like the cat from that damn Disney cartoon where the girl falls down the hole into another world. Well, if it was a game of temptation she was playing, baiting him to see who’d give in to the chemistry they both felt, she’d met her match. Dillon could play that game, too.
Couldn’t wait to play.
He shifted in his seat, the crotch of his jeans suddenly feeling too snug. “It’s a nice day,” he finally said in order to break the silence.
“Sure is.” She turned and smiled widely at him, her blue eyes sparkling from the sun shining through the window.
What was that smile about? Was she waiting to see who would crack first and bring up the kiss? That was amateur stuff. Dillon was a professional and he’d see if Red had it in her to keep up.
“I like your outfit.”
“This?” Gloria glanced down at her yoga pants and top. “They’re nothing special, just my work clothes.”
“So you don’t actually do yoga?”
She frowned. “Sometimes, why?”
“No reason. Just, you look good in it.”
“Thank you,” she said hesitantly.
“You’re welcome.” He waited a few beats before adding, “Those the same pants you wore out here last time?”
“No. But, they’re similar.” She frowned, probably because she wasn’t sure if he was complimenting her or not.
Dillon smiled lazily. “I love those pants.”
“Why’s that?”
“You kidding? All that bending over? Hell, a man doesn’t need a whole hell of a lot of imagination to—”
She hit him on the arm.
“Ouch.” He feigned injury. “So you can kiss me but I can’t make mention of your snug little pants?”
There it was, peeking up around the collar of her shirt, that tasty pink blush. He would have brought that up as well, just to goad her, but they were nearing the ranch and parked out front was a huge delivery truck with the name of a furniture store they’d visited in Butte.
“That’s good timing,” she said.
He had to admire her aplomb because she winked at him, as if nothing he said bothered her, and jumped out of the truck before he even shut it off.
* * *
EVEN WITH DILLON and Curtis helping the two delivery men, it took an hour and a half to move all the furniture into the proper rooms. They tipped the men before they left and then Dillon helped Gloria unwrap the furniture that had been covered in plastic. She’d been so busy directing everyone, Dillon’s suggestive comments from the drive had almost been pushed to the side of her mind.
Almost.
“You did a lot of work while I was gone,” Gloria said. The main floor hardwood had been sanded and refinished, making it appear brand-new and the walls had been painted. The furnishings from Sage’s shop were in the corner, still covered in tarps and rope and now they had a bunch more stuff, so she could actually start arranging things.
“I’ve still got to paint the bathrooms and put new shelves up in the larder,” Dillon said. “The floors upstairs are done, too.”
“What did you do with all the stuff?”
“Dumped most. Donated some. Stored what was left.”
Gloria nodded. “Perfect.”
Dillon sidled up to her, so close she could smell his aftershave. Wonderfully woodsy and fresh. Mmm.
“You calling me perfect?”
She suppressed a smile. “Not even close.” She gave him an elbow to the ribs as he sauntered past, enjoying herself.
“Has anyone told you, you’ve a tendency toward violence?”
“Do I scare you, big man?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his hat having been set aside while carrying furniture up and down stairs. “For a little slip of a thing, you’re awfully jabby.”
Gloria could not keep the laughter inside. She rolled her shoulders. Holy. She hadn’t felt this good since...when? The last time she was in Montana? No. She felt better than that.
“Give me a hand with this stuff, will you?” She motioned to Sage’s covered furniture, bending low to untie the knots. Was it bad that she purposefully aimed her heinie at Dillon and wiggled a bit? After all, they were playing the oldest game known to man, and in the mating game, she wasn’t above flaunting her female features.
“You’re evil,” Dillon muttered, brushing a hand across her hip as he moved past.
“What?” She looked up, batting her eyes innocently, the flesh of her hip tingling from his fleeting touch.
“Naughty, wicked, evil woman.”
He untied a length of rope and then wrapped it up in a coil before coming toward her, hand outstretched. “I’ll take that.”
“What? This?” She fingered the soft, hemp rope she’d just untied that had been used to hold the tarps in place. “What do you want this for?”
“Personal use.”
“You’ve got some.” She pointed to the coil in his hand.
“Could use more.”
“For what?”
“Do you really want to know?” He came closer, moving nice and slow, took her hands and wrapped the soft rope around one wrist and then the other, binding them in front of her in a loose figure eight.
Gloria’s lips parted as air rushed out. “For that?”
“Yep.”
Oh, dear. The instantaneous image of herself lying spread-eagle, tied to a bed while Dillon did wicked things to her, stole Gloria’s breath.
“You wanna try?” He drew a gentle line from her collarbone up to her cheek.
“I don’t know.” She wriggled her wrists free from the loose knot, took the rope and wrapped it around Dillon’s waist, tugging him close. “Depends on who’s doing the tying and who’s being tied.”
Tilting his head down toward her, he said, “I suppose you think you’d be the one with rope, seeing as you’re so bossy and all.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we’ll just have to find out.”
The sound of boots on hardwood took a moment to register. Dropping the rope, Gloria turned around to find Thaddeus coming down the hall, a big grin o
n his weathered face.
“Miss Gloria. Ain’t you a sight.” His Louisiana drawl was thicker than ever.
“How are you doing, Thad?”
“I’m as tickled as a mongoose at a rattler’s reunion to see you back here. Anyways, if you have a minute, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Oh.” Gloria wiped her hands on her pants and asked, “Who?”
“Sue. She’s back.”
It took Gloria a moment to remember who the hell Sue was, but then she recalled Thad’s story about the dog who played possum and trapped a mountain lion.
Before she took a step, she felt the softly frayed ends of a rope tickle the back of her neck and Dillon’s voice, barely above a whisper, “We’re not done here, Red.”
The shivery sensations running up and down her spine lingered all the way to the shed where Thad motioned for her to enter and crouch beside him.
Puppies!
“Oh, my God! They are so cute.” Gloria kneeled beside the border collie cross who was lying on a bed of old blankets and straw, nursing six—no—seven, chubby, squeaking puppies.
“Went out and found herself a man, got herself knocked up real good. But I always knew she’d be back. Sue knows where she belongs.”
Gloria laughed at Thaddeus’s crass description of Sue’s instinctual behavior. “Can I pick one up?”
“They’re still pretty fresh. Best leave ’em for another week.”
Another week. Would Gloria even be here that long? She stood, wishing that she could take one of the puppies home with her. She’d always wanted a puppy. But would that be fair to the dog? What would it prefer? To live cooped up in a condo over being able to roam freely on a ranch?
She sighed. Okay, no dog.
“Listen,” Dillon said, coming up to stand beside her. His eyes still sparkled—an aftereffect of their playful banter? “I’ve got some chores to do. I’ll give you a hand with some of the house stuff when I’m done.”
“What do you need to do?” she asked.
“Muck out the stable. Spray down the stalls.”
“Why don’t I help? Things go faster when we work together.”
“You know what ‘muck out the barn’ means, right?”
“Yep.”
“All right, Chicago. You want to help me shovel shit, go get some shit kickers on and you’re welcome to it.”
* * *
THERE WERE STILL a few boxes of Char’s clothes left behind and Dillon had stored them in the Quonset with all the other items that he hadn’t dumped. It was also the place where Kenny had stored the old furniture from the original house when he’d rebuilt.
“Wow,” Gloria said, lifting drop cloths to check the furniture beneath. “There’s some nice stuff here.”
“Yeah. I meant to tell you about it, but I figured you wanted all new.”
She touched a tear in the fabric of an old love seat that looked as if it could have been a hundred years old. “If I had more time, I’d have loved to refinish some of this.”
More time. Hell, Dillon wanted nothing more than to grant Red’s wish and ask her to stay longer. A month? Two?
Forever?
Shit, man, get your head out of your ass. She’d never want to stay here. And, neither do you, don’t forget...
He hefted the box labeled Women’s Clothes and opened it up. Right on top was a pair of boots and he passed them to Gloria. “Will these fit?”
She measured a boot against her foot. “They’ll do.” She sifted through the open box to see what else was there. “I might change into jeans if there’s some in here.”
“Need help?”
“You offering?”
“Always.” Good Lord, he enjoyed sparring with Red. Whatever had happened to make her change, he liked it. Not that she’d really changed—this was the woman he remembered from the fund-raiser and the night in Chicago. Feisty. Quick-witted. Passionate. Same as the woman who’d holed up with him last time she was here.
Ah, hell. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he wanted to keep it up. He wrapped a hand around that narrow waist and tugged her close. “Work first, play later. That’s my motto.”
“Amateur.”
Her hands were on his ass and—holy Hannah—she had a nice firm grip. He grabbed her arms and pulled them back around. “Meet me in the barn.” He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “And hurry up about it.”
“Hey,” she called right back. “Is it just me? Or are you walking funny?”
Dillon let out a laugh as he ambled—yes, he was experiencing difficulty walking—back to the stable, put on some work gloves, got the shovel and wheelbarrow and got to work. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could play.
17
RED JOINED HIM fifteen minutes later.
“There’s some gloves in the tack room and the hose is coiled on the wall. Why don’t you follow me and hose down each stall after I’ve cleaned them out?”
“Sounds good, boss.”
Dillon paused. “Boss, huh? Is this a hint of things to come?”
She wiped a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Okay, he had to curb the banter because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to walk or work. No, he’d be forced to take Red into the tack room to relieve the pressure behind his fly, in whatever glorious way she saw fit.
The thought of that alone was enough to make him groan in wonderful agony.
Somehow he got his lust-filled cravings under control and he and Red became an efficient team. It didn’t surprise him one bit. Red was a hard worker. The surprising part was that she didn’t seem to mind getting dirty. He liked that. Hell, he liked pretty much everything about her, particularly the getting dirty part.
She had all these wonderful sides to her. There was the woman he met over a year ago, dressed to the nines, hair styled, makeup perfect, beautiful. Then there was the one here and now—hair tied up in a bandanna, no makeup, wearing hand-me-down clothes, doing chores and having fun with it.
The first version was hot. The one right here? Smokin’.
A burst of cold water hit him between the shoulder blades.
“Hey! What the hell?”
“Oops.” Her eyes were large and round and full of mischief.
He worked his features into a scowl and went on to the last stall, shoveling up the last of the refuse. He was just wheeling it out to the manure pile when she sprayed him again, soaking him.
He set the wheelbarrow down, turned and walked straight into the spray.
Her eyes widened at his approach and she dropped the level of the water so that it hit him square in the crotch. “Need some cooling off?”
“You are so dead,” he said, slowly and clearly. Heading right into the spray he came close enough to reach for the hose and easily wrestled it out of her hands.
“Hey!” she complained. “That’s mine.”
“Mine now.” He turned the spray on Gloria and she squealed, covering her face and running in the direction of the tack room. He twisted the nozzle, giving the spray more power and arced it at her as she fled until she found safety inside the room. He waited, just like when he was a kid, waiting to snare a ground squirrel, and sure enough, she peeked around the door, giving him a target for a blast of cold water.
“Truce!” She held a hand out from behind the wall. “We’re even now. I call truce!”
Without a word, Dillon turned off the hose and strode to the back of the stable where Gloria was hiding. Rounding the wall, he found her standing there, hands out, huge grin, wet hair plastered to her forehead.
He took her in, sopping clothes sticking suggestively to every curve of her luscious body. “Damn, Red. I like you w
et.”
“Yeah?” She clutched the front of his shirt and drew him close. “Well, you certainly made me wet.”
His hands went around to her backside. Oh, such a nice ass. Perfect amount of flesh for each one of his hands. “How wet?” he asked, pulling her up against him, nice and snug.
“Why don’t you find out, cowboy?” She unsnapped the top button of her jeans.
Vixen.
Leaning down, he licked a drop of water from the side of her neck and whispered, “You’re playing with fire, Red.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
He wedged a knee between her legs and growled when she wriggled against his thigh. “What exactly is it that we’re doing here?”
She undid the top button of his shirt and then the next. “I think it’s called flirting.”
“Yeah?” He backed her up against the wall. “Is that all you want? A bit of flirting?”
Another button undone, then another. “No, Dillon. I want more.”
Dammit. Taking those busy hands of hers away from his chest, he pressed them to the wall beside her head and held her there, leaning his weight into her. “When you say ‘more,’ do you mean this?” He leaned down and kissed her as softly as he could, holding back some because he wanted to make sure of everything before he let loose.
“More.” She said the word against his mouth. Soft, sweet and a little demanding, just like her.
Wedging his knee up snug between her legs, he moved it back and forth against the seam of her jeans. “Something like this?”
“That’s nice,” she whispered, eyes closed, creating her own friction against his knee. “But I could handle a little more.”
“Mmm, baby.” He nuzzled the side of her neck.
“Man, I love it when you do that.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I love doing it.”
“Dillon?”
“Yeah?” He nibbled his way along her jaw to her ear.
“Take off my shirt.”
“Here comes the bossy.” Hell, he didn’t mind. Saved him from having to ask. Dillon released her hands so he could pull her wet shirt up and over her head. “Damn, woman.” He took a moment to look at her: alabaster skin, light pink bra. Reaching behind, he unclasped the strap and tugged it off her. Was it the dampness that made her pretty little nipples stand up like that, begging for a kiss? Or was it him?
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