“I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”
“Then you weren’t doing a very good job,” she said, a little catch in her breath.
The warmth of her flesh seduced his fingers. Lucky told himself to let go of her. His hand wouldn’t obey. What the hell was wrong with him?
And why wasn’t JoJo telling him to go to hell?
But JoJo wasn’t saying anything. She was staring at him, lips parted, confusion and surprise warring with her sadness. A flush of firelight laved her features, making her seem almost beautiful.
His gaze dropped to the pulse beating visibly in her throat. And beneath the sleek peach material of her pajama top, her breasts rose and fell so seductively they forced a tightening in his groin. He couldn’t rip his gaze from the sight, and as he stared, he could see her nipples harden through the thin material.
Her breath became audible. Uneven.
He was sexually attracted to her, and damn if she wasn’t attracted right back!
Suddenly wary, Lucky forced his hand to open and drop to his side. JoJo remained still, as if waiting for his next move. She was tempting; he’d have to give her that. Despite the fact that he knew a nearby room was occupied, that Adair Keating might even be awake to hear, Lucky would like nothing more than to gather JoJo in his arms, tumble her to the floor and take her right there in front of the fire. His body was urging him to do so.
But maybe that was part of her plan. Seducing him. Maybe this story about the friend who’d died was made up to trick him, to lull him into trusting her. But if he knew that, if he were forewarned…
Before he could make up his mind about what to do, the scrape of a key against the front-door lock whipped him around. “Who the hell is that?”
The slight woman who pushed through the doorway with a suitcase half her size stopped with a squeak when she saw him. “Oh, Lord, you startled me!”
Lucky glared. “And you are?”
Her eyes widened. “Paula Gibson. Uh, did I come into the wrong house or something?”
“No,” JoJo assured her. “Lucky just likes making women feel that way. He doesn’t appreciate surprises.”
Lucky thought her voice surprisingly flat considering the sexual tension that had just passed between them. “We weren’t expecting you.”
Paula hooked her straight, light brown hair behind an ear. “I called late this afternoon from Phoenix to see if there was an opening. Flora Ramos didn’t tell you?”
“I wasn’t around,” Lucky said. “Sorry if I was rude.”
“No problem.” Paula shrugged. “It is late. I got lost, as usual. A complete lack of direction is my biggest shortcoming, I’m afraid. I had a map and wrote down how to get here and everything, but I could get lost in a paper sack, I swear.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis and barely took a breath before going on. “Anyhow, I woke up the poor housekeeper to get the key. She asked me if I minded coming over here by myself since she wasn’t dressed and all. She said I should just make myself at home. Pick an empty room.”
When she started dragging her bag to the left, Lucky said, “Try the other wing. All kinds of rooms free there.”
Though there was a vacant room in the wing he shared with JoJo, he didn’t want to give up more of his privacy. A privacy that was starting to include her, he was afraid. Despite his good sense, he wanted her alone…or the next best thing to it.
“Sure. No problem.” As she took a good look at JoJo’s pajamas, Paula’s eyebrows shot up. She scurried away, saying, “I promise I won’t interrupt again. Go ahead and get back to whatever you were doing.”
Nice thought, but the mood was broken. JoJo was picking up the brandy glass from the carpet, the movement exposing the pale swells of her breasts. Well, maybe not altogether broken, Lucky amended, catching his breath.
This was beginning to look like a cold-shower night.
“I JUST WENT THROUGH a lousy divorce,” the chatty Paula was saying as they finished breakfast the next morning. “So I was moping around the office for a couple of weeks, and one of the other secretaries insisted I needed a getaway, so she told me about the Macbride Ranch. She spent a week here with her boyfriend last fall and couldn’t stop raving about how beautiful the place was. I figured some R&R would do me good, and so here I am.”
Here they all were, JoJo thought wryly. Lucky, Eli, Adair, Paula and yet another unexpected guest.
Rocky Franzone had shown up just after daybreak. He looked like a Rocky—broad and muscular, dark and swarthy. And from his accent, JoJo guessed he was originally from Jersey—though he was all duded up in Western clothes.
“I made plans to hook up with a buddy in the area on Saturday,” he announced. “We’re gonna get some work wrangling, so I figured a ranch is the perfect place to wait.”
Nick’s estimation of the ranch’s low popularity quotient would have to be revised, JoJo thought.
Part of her had really wanted some time to chill out alone, but another part was glad of all the company that diffused the situation between her and Lucky. Who knew what might have happened between them the night before if Paula hadn’t interrupted? Every so often, she caught him staring at her and figured he was wondering, too.
“So, what are we all going to do today?” Paula asked.
She drew her hair behind her ear with long pinktinted nails and gave Lucky an expectant look. Over breakfast, Flora had informed everyone that he was one of the owners.
“No activities director,” Lucky said. “This is a working ranch, not a dude ranch. Flora cooks breakfast and dinner, but other than that, you’re on your own.”
“You don’t have any activities?” Paula asked.
“If you want a horse, a wrangler named Vincent Zamora will saddle one for you. He’s already working down around the outbuildings.”
Paula turned to JoJo. “Are you up for a ride?”
Despite her resolve to take it easy the first time out, she was a little stiff. “Maybe later.”
“I hear you’re a regular cowgirl,” Lucky said. “What happened? Lose your enthusiasm for horses for some reason?”
Had Lucky been talking to Vincent or watching her? JoJo wondered. Irritated that he was trying to start something, she said, “Maybe I just know my limits.”
“Smart lady—”
She cut him off. “You could use some limits yourself.”
Dead silence followed, until Rocky turned to Paula. “You want company,” he told the new divorcée, “I wouldn’t mind getting on a nag and playing cowboy.”
“Great.” Paula smiled so wide her dimples popped. “So let’s get going.”
“Yip-ee-ai-ay!” Rocky crowed.
As Flora started to clear the table, Paula and Rocky left immediately, Lucky and Eli following, their heads together and talking in low tones as if they were plotting something. JoJo couldn’t stop herself from staring after them. And just before he closed the door behind him, Lucky glanced back at her as if he felt her interest.
For a brief moment, their gazes locked, and JoJo felt the same way she had the night before—paralyzed by something she couldn’t explain.
Then Lucky broke the connection and pulled the door shut. And JoJo started, wondering what in the world had gotten into her. The man was hardly trying to sweep her off her feet, and yet her pulse soared and chest tightened. She was vulnerable—that was all, she assured herself. And the indefinable something between them was her fear.
But fear of what? Of him? Or herself?
When it came to men, she’d proved her judgment wasn’t the best….
“So what’re your plans?” Adair asked from where he’d sprawled across a couch. “Just a friendly question. Don’t worry—I’m not gonna horn in on your privacy again.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” JoJo said quickly, a little embarrassed.
After telling the man she wanted her space the night before, she’d gotten all too close to Lucky. She only hoped Adair had been sound asleep, unaware of what had been going on mere yards f
rom his bedroom.
“I was thinking I could stand to walk off some of that breakfast,” she said. “When I was riding yesterday, I passed an apple orchard not too far from the house. It’ll give me a good stretch.”
“I thought I’d stretch out, too. Right here on this nice comfortable couch.” Patting a stuffed pillow and putting it behind his head, he added, “I could use a few good winks. I’m a pretty light sleeper. Things just kept waking me up last night…including Paula’s arrival.”
“Things” being the obvious to JoJo. Warmth crept up her neck as she made for the door. “Well, I hope tonight’s better for you. Later.”
Mortification flooded her as she stalked rather than walked to the apple orchard, passing the outbuildings and the big enclosure without really seeing them. But by the time she arrived at her destination, she’d relaxed some. And she’d worked out the kinks in her legs and back.
JoJo sat for a while at the edge of the copse, just enjoying the clear air and sun and breeze. This tranquility was exactly what Dr. Sasha had ordered.
Used to the bustle of a big city, JoJo appreciated the quiet solitude of the outdoors. She always had. As a kid, she’d looked forward to those summers on her grandparents’ farm. Growing up, busy building her Broadway career, she’d somehow forgotten how pleasurable it was just to do nothing. To be one with nature.
Not believing in regrets, JoJo didn’t look back. Rather, she was looking forward. Time was beginning to press in on her, the urgency no doubt precipitated by the awful mess she’d gotten into with Marco and Lester.
She’d been brought face-to-face with her own mortality. If Sasha hadn’t come to her rescue…
How ironic that she was in her early thirties and already worrying about retirement. She had at least a few good dancing years left in her, maybe more. But what about after that? A question not many young women with ambition asked themselves when starting out, JoJo thought. If only she’d saved more than a few bucks, she might be able to start some kind of small business. As it was, her options were limited.
At least she didn’t feel so anxious when she strolled back the way she’d come. She identified plants and searched for the wildlife that scurried through the chaparral and managed to remain just out of sight. Attuned to the world around her, she was breathing deeply, humming to herself, when she heard the faint strains of music coming from somewhere ahead, in the general direction of the outbuildings. Undoubtedly Vincent was listening to the radio as he worked.
But as she drew closer, JoJo realized the melody was strangely familiar, because it was a tune used in the show at the Caribbean. As a matter of fact, the piece was a Latin rumba she knew well since it was her music …or rather, music she danced to with a partner.
How weird.
Compelled to investigate such an odd coincidence, JoJo followed the sultry strains directly toward the mysterious enclosure with its solid six-foot-high walls. Since she couldn’t see in, she had no idea of what the thing was used for. Feed storage, maybe? The gate stood open, giving her the opportunity to check it out for herself.
She stepped inside.
“Hello? Vincent?” JoJo’s eyes were drawn directly to the center of the large sandy floor and the boombox pumping out the rumba. “Hey, anyone around?”
Though no one answered, she wandered forward, her feet taking her toward the sound equipment. Had Vincent tuned into some Spanish-language station that played Latin music, or was he really listening to the score from the Caribbean’s show? She supposed Nick could have left a tape around last time he was at the ranch.
JoJo crouched in front of the silver boombox, thinking to find out for herself if she was listening to a broadcast or a tape. She’d barely wrapped her fingers around the handle before a harsh blowing sound behind and to her left froze her in place. The hair at the back of her neck tingled when she heard the animal snort again, the sound followed by a deliberate pawing at the earth.
Swallowing hard, JoJo glanced over her shoulder and eyeballed what she’d missed upon entering the enclosure—a buff-colored hide blending nicely with the sandy earth.
An angry-looking Brahma bull fixed his beady eyes on her.
Chapter Four
“Uh-oh,” JoJo muttered, her stomach clutching.
Rising, the boombox coming with her since the handle was still grasped tightly in her hand, she tried to gauge the distance between her, the snorting bull and the exit. But when she glanced back at the gate, she got a start. Undoubtedly not realizing anyone was inside, someone had shut the damn thing, and, no doubt, locked it to boot.
Great!
If the gate were locked, how the heck was she supposed to get out?
The bull really looked irritated. Outweighing her by several hundred pounds, the animal had a powerful humped neck wider than her hips, and curved horns that looked sharp enough to slice right through steel like butter. And if she weren’t mistaken, bulls had pretty short tempers.
Sweat prickling at her skin, JoJo began backing up slowly, silently, so as not to aggravate him further.
The Brahma lowered his head anyway, snorting and pawing. Dust churned around him. His protracted moan bounced off the walls of the enclosure and straight down her spine.
She’d have to somehow vault over the six-foot fencing…if she could manage to hike herself up, that was. Thankfully, as a dancer, she was in great physical condition.
Suddenly, his wounded sound drowning out the music, the bull lowered his head and charged her.
And JoJo’s body went on automatic. She turned and ran for all she was worth. Her boot scuffed something ragged in the sandy earth, nearly bringing her to her knees. Frantic, she made for the water trough in the corner of the pen, about three feet high, a stepping-stone to safety. She had to get to it before the bull got to her.
But the bull was closing the distance behind them faster than she was running. JoJo could hear his sides heave as he drove after her. Her fingers biting into the metal of the boombox, it suddenly hit her that she should get rid of the damn thing….
Instinct whipped her arm out, the weight of the equipment tearing at her shoulder, setting its own trajectory. She opened her fingers, and the boombox went flying. She heard a thud and an inhuman scream of outrage. Not pausing to see what happened, JoJo leaped up onto the water trough, wrapped her hands around the edge of the fence and vaulted up.
Scrambling one leg over, JoJo straddled the wood, throwing a glance back at the bull. He was no longer chasing her, for he had a more immediate concern. Head low, he attacked the boombox. One of his horns pierced the metal. He whipped around in a tight circle, shaking his head and bucking, trying to rid himself of the thing. To add insult to injury, the music was still playing.
The bull looked ridiculous, and even though her heart was beating too fast, JoJo couldn’t help but be amused…and concerned that the beast would hurt himself.
As she watched, however, the Brahma stopped, legs spread, sides heaving, nose nearly touching the ground. Then he threw up his head with the full force of his powerful neck. The boombox flew into the air, flipped around in a spiral and dropped a slim yard to the side. Without losing a beat, he charged the offensive object, running right over it, his weight crushing the sound from the metal.
The arena went still but for the animal’s snorts of triumph as, head held high, he circled his vanquished enemy.
Relieved that neither of them was hurt, JoJo dropped to the ground outside the enclosure. Her entire body suddenly felt like Silly Putty. Holding on to the wall for support, she let out the nervous laughter that threatened to choke her, more of a strangled sound than anything. Then she took several deep, slow breaths, and willed her pulse to steady.
But her heart received another unexpected jolt when an angry voice behind her demanded to know, “What the hell were you doing in there?”
Whirling around to face Lucky Donatelli, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Dancing.” What did he think? “Didn’t you hear the music?�
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Furious that she’d barely missed being injured through no fault of her own, and that he was obviously blaming her, JoJo tried flouncing by Lucky, but her knees were weak, and one of them buckled slightly. Before she could right herself and regain her dignity, she felt a band of steel slide along her back and another behind her knees.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
Without so much as a by-your-leave, Lucky was lifting her into his arms. “Manhandling you again,” he growled.
Then he stalked across the yard, muttering what she figured were obscenities under his breath. But no matter that he was in a vile mood—a seemingly natural state for him—and no matter that his rough, nononsense demeanor scared her more than a little, JoJo recognized the same thread of attraction to him that had caught her the night before.
Something about being trapped against his big hard belt buckle was inviting, sent unbidden warmth spiraling through her. Or maybe it had to do with the way he looked in faded, butt-hugging jeans and a white cotton T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out. The desire to run her fingers along a well-muscled arm was more tempting than she wanted to admit.
Instead—convinced the run-in with the bull was impairing her judgment, making her act like a weak-spirited ninny—JoJo pushed at Lucky’s chest and tried to untangle her legs from the death grip he had on them. No matter how hard she tried to make him let her down, however, he didn’t budge. He didn’t even lose a beat.
“I can walk. You can put me down.” When he ignored her, she worked up some righteous indignation. “What’s the point of hauling me around like a sack of feed?”
“Saving the ranch from a lawsuit in case you twist your ankle or something on the way back to the house.”
Or something. She envisioned the bull charging her. “You should have thought about that before.”
“Before what?”
“Before…before someone left the gate to that enclosure open!” she sputtered.
“And you were reckless enough to wander inside? Are you out of your mind, tangling with a bull? Bushwhacker’s not a pet. And he’s damn dangerous!”
Lucky Devil Page 5
