Roxanne's hand curled into a fist. “I don't,” she said in a snooty voice. “I just don't want to hire a bulldozer to scrape up what's left of you.”
Jeb laughed. “Don't worry—I won't put you to that expense.”
It took several minutes for everyone to get positioned. Jeb figured the least distance he had to run with an eighty-pound-plus calf in his arms was best and so while he lurked nearby in the underbrush, Acey and Nick gently worked the cow and calf in the direction of the trailer. When the cow was about a hundred feet out from the trailer she started getting stubborn so they backed off and let her graze.
Roman and Roxanne prepared to do their part. Once Jeb snatched the sleeping calf, it was up to everyone to do everything, short of getting killed, to distract the cow until Jeb made it to the trailer. Rox anne was armed with pots to bang and Roman had towels to wave.
The calf slept. The cow ate. The humans eased into position. Standing behind a patch of buck brush, Jeb considered the situation. The calf lay about ten feet in front, of him—and almost a hundred feet away from the safety of the trailer. The cow was grazing about thirty feet from the calf; Acey, Nick, Roxanne, and Roman ready to rush between them the instant he grabbed the calf. He took a deep breath, wondering if he was crazy. Looked at Roxanne in those low-rise jeans and cropped top. Her expression was tense and she clutched those two pots of hers as if her life depended upon it. Funny thing—his probably did. No doubt about it—he was crazy—he hadn't showed off for a female since he'd been sixteen.
The cow continued her browsing, putting another six or seven feet between herself and the calf. Jeb waited, his heart thumping. A moment later she was another couple of feet away and her back was to the calf. Now or never, Jeb told himself.
He wiped his hands on his jeans, took in a lungful of air, and exploded out of the brush. Sprinting over to where the calf lay, he snatched it up, surprising a bleat from the animal as he threw it over his shoulder. The next second he was racing toward the trailer.
Even though they knew the plan, Jeb's actions took everyone by surprise and for one almost fatal second, they all just stared. Even the cow who had spun around at the first sound from her calf.
After that, everything seemed to happen at once. The cow let out a bellow and charged. Acey and Nick kicked their horses forward and plunged into the area between the cow and the running man. Yelling and whistling, they swung their ropes in the air. Roxanne and Roman added to the din, Roxanne banging the pots together for all she was worth and Roman waving the towels like a madman. It worked. Confused by all the noise and activity the cow hesitated. A second bleat from her baby, however, was all she needed to send horses and humans scattering and plowed through the ragged line.
Nick swung his horse around and rode hard after the cow, the loop of his rope singing in the air. Acey was a half horse length behind him.
Her heart in her throat, Roxanne stared helplessly as the cow ate up the distance that separated her and her calf as it bleated piteously and bounced on Jeb's shoulder.
It was going to be a near thing, Jeb not ten feet from the trailer and the cow, enormous and black and enraged, five yards behind him—and closing fast.
Half laughing, half swearing, Roman yelled, “Run, Jeb. Run! And don't look back!”
His chest feeling as if it would burst, Jeb hit the trailer in one desperate leap. The trailer shook and rattled. A second later, the trailer shuddered violently and rocked as more than half a ton of furious momma cow plunged inside. Jeb dumped the calf on the floor at the front of the trailer and feeling the hot breath of may hem on his back, plunged out the safety door at the side of the stock trailer. He misjudged it slightly and, intent on escape, wasn't aware of banging his head on the metal frame or the trickle of blood that ran down the side of his face. All he'd wanted was out. Now. Once outside, he hung on to the side of the trailer and shoved the door shut behind him. Breathless, laughing, and foolishly pleased with himself, he lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the side of the stock trailer as Acey and Nick, right on the heels of the cow, swung out of the saddle and swiftly slammed the two rear doors shut. One cow and calf safely loaded.
Roman and Roxanne ran up to join the others by the trailer. For several minutes, there was laughter, whooping and backslapping and congratulating.
When the initial adrenaline rush had ebbed, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, Jeb said to Nick, “Cut it a little close there, didn't you, boys?”
“Nah,” replied Nick, grinning, “for a big guy you ran like a deer and we figured the cow needed better odds.”
“Jesus, Jeb,” Roman said with a chuckle, “I thought you were a memory for sure. That cow had to be right on your neck when you hit the trailer.”
Jeb laughed, absently wiping away the streak of blood. “You're not far wrong. All I could think was don't stumble, don't trip, 'cause if you do, it'll be last thing you ever do.”
Eyeing the slice through his eyebrow and the blood on the side of his face, Roxanne felt her heart lurch. What was the matter with her? So what if the big jerk got a cut? He deserved it. It had been a juvenile trick he'd pulled. Picking up that calf and trying to outrun its mother. Stupid. And just like a man.
Acey broke into her thoughts. “Guess we ought to mosey on home,” he said, glancing down at the pocket watch he wore. He looked at Roxanne and wiggled his mustaches. “Maria's baking one of her deelicious apple pies for me. Don't want to be late.”
Chapter
4
Acey, echoed by Nick and Roman, invited Roxanne and Jeb to join them at Nick's place, but Roxanne passed. Tindale was due some time this morning—she had not given him a definite time and didn't know when the architect would likely arrive. “Some other time,” she said with a smile.
Jeb waved them on. “Thanks, guys—you know me and Maria's apple pie—never pass it up. Go on ahead, I'll be along behind you in a few minutes.”
Roxanne stiffened. “Don't let me keep you.”
Jeb looked at her. “Don't start. I just want to have a couple of words with you and then I'll be out of your hair.”
With Roman driving and Acey and Nick following on horseback, they gradually disappeared from sight, a cloud of dust churned up by their passing soon the only sign they had ever been there. Roxanne had watched them leave with misgivings. If there was one thing in life that she didn't want it was to be left alone tt with Jeb Delaney…and here she was alone with Jeb Delaney.
The heat was almost suffocating and feeling a trickle of perspiration slide down her back, she took a deep breath and muttered, “Well, hurry up and say what you want to—it's absolutely beastly out here.”
Jeb rubbed the side of his jaw. “Now if you were a polite sort of woman, you'd invite me inside.”
She snorted. “And we both know, I'm not polite—to you.”
“I wonder why that is?”
“Probably because you're not very polite to me.”
“Think?”
“Oh, for crying out loud. It's too hot for this sort of argument. Come on inside and I'll give you a glass of iced tea and you can wash that cut of yours.” She glared at him. “And don't even mention that I'm being polite to you or I'll take the offer back.”
Jeb grinned at her. “Yes, ma'am,” he said meekly and followed her inside the A-frame.
Since there was no electricity at present, the cabin had no air-conditioning, but it was much cooler inside. Jeb looked around, noting the signs of vandals from the ripped walls to the patched holes in the floor and the Spartan furnishings. “Not much furniture,” he commented as she led him into the kitchen area.
Glad of a safe topic, Roxanne replied, “I'm having a lot of renovations done starting next week so it didn't seem practical to try to move in before they're done.” “You're really going to move in here permanently?”
“Yes, I am,” she said, fixing him a tall glass of iced tea. “I have lots of plans for this place.” She made a face as she glanced around the tiny corne
r kitchen. “And one of them is a decent kitchen.”
Jeb took the glass she handed him and drank deeply. Putting the empty glass down on the small counter, he smiled at her and said, “Thanks. I enjoyed that.”
Fiddling around with the pitcher, more aware of him than she'd like to be, she asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Jeb pulled on his ear. “I wanted to apologize.”
Roxanne's lovely mouth fell open. “Apologize? You? To me?”
“Yeah, I know it's hard to believe.” He shrugged. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I didn't have any business making all those cracks that I did the other day. It's none of my business what you do up here and I don't really think you're going to start growing dope. You got me riled and I just shot my mouth off.”
She gaped at him. He was actually apologizing. Jeb Delaney apologizing to her. Would wonders never cease?
“Um, that's OK,” she muttered. She flashed him an uncertain smile. “I shoot my mouth off all the time.”
“That you do,” he murmured, his black-eyed gaze skimming over her. He wondered if she knew how tempting she looked in that skimpy top and those low-cut jeans. Especially those low-cut jeans. His gaze dropped. She had the cutest damn belly button he'd ever seen and it was all he could do to keep from picking her up and putting his mouth right over that spot. And if he did that, he knew he'd have her out of those jeans and flat out on the counter before he could count to three. The picture of Roxanne, sans her jeans, lying on the counter before him, flooded his mind. And he was instantly, immediately, so hard he was certain he'd trip if he tried to walk. He swallowed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. Roxanne was a whole lot easier to deal with when he was angry with her.
“Are you trying to start another argument?” Roxanne asked suspiciously.
He shook his head. “No, ma'am. Absolutely not.”
“Well, it's a good thing,” she said. “Let's quit while we're ahead. OK?”
“Sounds like a deal.”
She gestured toward the sink. “You want to wash that cut?”
“Sure.”
She threw him a towel and leaving him to wash at the stainless-steel sink went looking for some first-aid stuff she knew she had in her overnight bag near the bed. It took her a few minutes to find what she was searching for and straightening up, she turned back toward him. She gasped. He'd taken his shirt off and her heart slammed into her ribs at the sight of Jeb standing thete half-naked in her small kitchen. His head was hidden in the towel as he vigorously rubbed himself dry, oblivious to her smothered gasp.
Her mouth dry, a prickle of sexual awareness running through her, Roxanne just stared dumbstruck at that magnificent chest. Reminding herself that she had to be crazy, that she didn't like him in the least, didn't cause her to stop looking at all that masculine beauty before her. And Jeb was beautiful—everything about him perfectly proportioned. He was a tall, big man and had the deep chest and wide shoulders that went with his height. He also had powerful, well-shaped muscles, and she watched fascinated at the way those very nice muscles bunched and flowed along his arms and beneath his chest as he moved. She'd never liked hairy men, but the thick mat of black hair that covered Jeb's chest and arrowed down across his lean midriff before disappearing into those tight jeans aroused a funny feeling inside of her. What would it feel like, she wondered, to be crushed against that hard, hair-covered chest? To her horror, her nipples swelled and her breasts ached, moisture pooling between her thighs. Holy Hannah! she thought half hysterically. This is nuts!
She shook her head. Took a calming breath and said brightly, “I don't have much in the way of first-aid supplies, but here's some hydrogen peroxide—it'll do fine as a disinfectant until you get home.”
Throwing the towel down on the counter, apparently unaware of Roxanne's reaction to his half-dressed state, Jeb said, “That'll do as pod asanything. It's not much of a cut.” He must have noticed something though, because he hesitated and said uncomfortably, “Uh, sorry about undressing. I didn't want to get my shirt wet.” He smiled crookedly. “I really splashed the water around.”
“That's OK,” she said in that same bright tone. “Don't worry about it. Here, dab some of this on that cut and you can be on your way.” She thrust the bottle of hydrogen peroxide at him and then retreated, her gaze everywhere but on him.
Puzzled, Jeb stared at her. She was skittish as a doe scenting the hounds and he couldn't think of one thing he'd done to cause her to react that way. Surely, she wasn't frightened of him? Shrugging into his shirt and leaving it unsnapped, he turned the situation over in his mind. What the hell was wrong with her? He shook his head. Women. Who knew what went on in their minds? And he sure as the devil wasn't going to solve that age-old question today.
Pushing away the problem, he opened the bottle. “You have any cotton or anything I can use to put it on with?” he asked, looking around.
“No. Use the corner of the towel.”
She watched as he dabbed the corner of the towel with a liberal dose of the hydrogen peroxide. Putting the tip of the towel against the cut, he let out a yelp and jumped, banging his hip against the counter and sending the bottle of hydrogen peroxide flying. It landed on the floor by his feet and broke.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he glanced down at the mess he'd made. “I'm usually not such a bull in a china store,” he said with a grimace. “What do you want me to use to clean it up? Got a broom?”
He looked so embarrassed and uncomfortable that Roxanne smiled. “Sure,” she said. “I'll get it for you.”
Broom and dustpan in hand, Jeb swept up the broken glass and most of the liquid. “Where do you want it?”
“There's a wastepaper basket under the sink.”
While Jeb dumped the mess into the wastepaper basket, Roxanne picked up the towel and squatting down began to wipe up what remained of the spilled hydrogen peroxide. Jeb turned around and looked down at her. Her head was bent and he had a wonderful view of that gorgeous neck of hers, especially that delicate spot where it joined her equally gorgeous shoulder. He decided then and there that he'd be hard-pressed to choose between her belly button and the area where her neck and shoulder joined as the place he'd like to taste first.
Roxanne glanced up and her breath caught in her throat at the blatant sexuality in his gaze. Desire sizzled through her, her entire body humming with carnal longing. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. Not even in the midst of the mindless affair with Todd Spurling had she been so aware of a man, so needy to feel his mouth on hers, his body against her own. Nothing in her life compared to the hungry yearning that was tearing through her. Nothing.
His eyes locked on hers, Jeb said huskily, “You know I always wanted a woman at my feet …” He reached out a hand to help her stand. He pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. “But I think,” he muttered against her mouth, losing the fight to resist her, “that in my arms is a much better place.”
Crushed against his chest, Roxanne couldn't think. Didn't think. Didn't want to think. His scent, male and slightly sweaty, flooded her senses; the heat of his body flowed into hers, melting her bones and turning her weak with desire. And when his mouth, when that hard, masculine, taunting mouth, came down on hers, the world went spinning out of control.
There was nothing tentative or gentle about his kiss. He simply took her mouth and did what he wanted with it. His lips fitting hers as if made to do just that, his tongue exploring and tasting, tangling with her tongue. Oh, and his hands…his hands cupped that famous Roxanne bottom and pulled her tight against muscled thighs and straining erection.
They kissed for a long time, frantic, mindless, voracious kisses, hands and questing fingers traveling and pushing aside clothing, discovering new delights, new unexplored territory. His mouth slipped to the spot where her neck and shoulder met and Roxanne gasped as pleasure speared through her, her fingers clenching against his hard chest, when he bit down gently and then kissed the stin
ging spot.
He'd backed her against the counter that divided the kitchen from the main room, his body sliding between her, thighs, his hands holding her face to his, as he sought out her lips once more. She was on fire, burning, feverish, aching with need, and when he rubbed his swollen penis suggestively against the junction of her thighs, she thought she'd explode with pleasure. She wanted him. Desperately. She'd die, she was certain, if she didn't have him.
In the grip of a passion that he had no control over, Jeb was aware of nothing but the woman in his arms. Her sweet/salty taste, the intoxicating scent of a warm, willing woman going to his head like potent wine. He'd never felt this way before, never been so out of control, never been consumed by such a driving desire. There was nothing in his mind but the joy and pleasure of tasting and touching her soft, silky flesh, of learning the curves and hollows that haunted dreams. He was helpless in his hunger and need, the urgent demand to lose himself in her body pushing him to the edge.
The passion between them was explosive and neither was conscious of anything but the other and the need for a closer contact. Roxanne's top was pushed up around her neck and his hungry mouth teased and nipped at her small ivory breasts, her nipples swollen from his caresses. His shirt had been discarded at some point and she purred like a cat as her fingers explored that hard bristling expanse of his chest, her nails scraping against his nipples eliciting a deep groan from him.
Somehow her jeans and panties were down around her knees, his fmgers finding her damp heat; his rigid member was freed from his pants and when her slimhand closed around him, Jeb thought he'd died and gone to heaven. But heaven eluded both of them, the intimate, explicit caresses of their hands and mouths only fueling the fire between them.
The slide of Jeb's fingers against her aching flesh was more than Roxanne could bear, and as desire coiled and tightened in her belly, her body trembled with it and she bit back a moan as his thumb brushed the distended node, there between her legs. She couldn't stand it any longer and helplessly her hips moved against him in a message as old as time, inviting him to complete the act.
Coming Home Page 6
