Leah glanced at her watch. Her final interview
should arrive any time. She could only hope that he'd prove more acceptable
than the others--docile enough to agree to all her demands and yet skilled
enough in business matters to satisfy the bank. As though in response to her
silent wish a solitary rider appeared over a low ridge, shadowed black
against the burnt orange glow of a low-hanging sun. She shaded her eyes and
studied him with keen curiosity. Could this be H. P. Smith, her final
applicant?
He rode easily, at home in the saddle, swaying with
a natural, effortless rhythm. Even from a distance she could tell his horse
was a beauty, the pale tan coat without a blemish, the ebony mane and tail
gleaming beneath the golden rays of a setting sun. The animal was also a
handful. But a handful he mastered without difficulty.
She frowned, something about him bothering her. If
only she could figure out what. Then it hit her. She knew the man. On some
basic, intuitive level, she recognized the way he sat his horse, the simple,
decisive manner with which he controlled the animal, the square,
authoritative set of his shoulders. Even the angle of his hat was faintly
familiar.
But who the hell was he?
She waited and watched, intent on the stranger's
every movement. He rode into the yard as though he owned the place... as
though he were lord here and her purpose in life was to cater to his every
pleasure. From beneath the brim of his hat Leah caught a glimpse of jet
black hair and deep-set, watchful eyes, his shadowed features taut and
angled as though hewn from granite. Then he dismounted, tying his buckskin
to the hitching post. Not giving the vaguest acknowledgement, he turned to
cross the yard toward her.
He stripped his gloves from his hands as he came,
tucking them into his belt, and she found herself staring at those hands, at
the strength and power conveyed by his loosely held fists. She knew those
hands... But where? A flash of memory hit her--the gentle sweep of callused
fingers against her breasts, tender and yet forceful, pain mixed with
ecstasy--and she gasped.
And that's when he looked up.
Full sunlight cast the shadow from his face and
revealed to her the threat--and the promise--in his cold black eyes. In that
instant, she realized who he was, and why he'd come.
"This just isn't my day," she muttered and acting on
blind instinct, shouldered her rifle and fired.
The first blast cratered the ground a foot in front
of him. He didn't flinch. He didn't even break stride. He came at her, his
steady gaze fixed firmly on her face. She jacked out the shell and pumped
another into the chamber. The second blast landed square between his boots,
showering the black leather with dirt and debris. Still, he kept coming,
faster now, hard-packed muscle moving with cat-like speed. She wasn't given
the opportunity to get off another round.
He hit the porch steps two at a time. Not hesitating
a moment, he grabbed the barrel of the rifle and yanked it from her grasp,
tossing it aside. His hands landed heavily on her shoulder, catapulting her
straight into his arms. With a muffled shriek, she grabbed a fistful of
shirt to keep from falling.
"You never were much of a shot," he said, his voice
low and rough. And then he kissed her.
His kiss was everything she remembered and more.
He'd always combined strength with tenderness, but now there was also a
ruthless demand to his kiss, a fierce assault on both mind and body that
held her stunned and unmoving. His mouth shifted over hers, subduing any
hint of resistance, taking with a relentless thirst, but also giving a
wealth of passion in return. One hand settled low on her back, arching her
into the tight cradle of his thighs. His other hand slid up her spine,
beneath the heavy fall of her braid, his fingers thrusting through the
silken strands of her hair and cupping her head.
Unable to help herself, her arms tightened around
him, discovering again the breadth of his shoulders and the lean, compact
muscles sculpting his ribs and chest. With trembling fingers, she searched
out the tiny mole that hid in the hollow at the base of his throat, knowing
she should fight him, that she should end this farce. But somehow she
couldn't. He'd been her first lover...her only lover. There was a connection
between them that could never be severed, much as she might wish it
otherwise.
He deepened the kiss between them, his thumb sliding
along her jaw to the corner of her mouth and teasing the sensitive spot
until her lips parted beneath his. To her shame, she kissed him back, kissed
him with eight lonely years worth of pent-up yearning. She needed this
moment out of time and part of her rejoiced in the exquisite memories his
touch resurrected. She came alive in his arms, became the woman she'd once
been. But another part of her, the part that had suffered at his hands knew
the danger, knew the price she'd pay for allowing him to sweep away the
barriers she'd fought so hard to build. She couldn't afford to feel again.
She'd almost been destroyed once by this man, she wouldn't offer him the
opportunity to complete the job.
He kissed her at length, the conqueror staking his
claim and a small growl of satisfaction rumbled deep in his chest. It was
that tiny sound which finally brought her to her senses. She fought her way
free of his embrace and retreated several steps across the porch. Raising
trembling fingers to her mouth, she stared at him...stared in stunned
disbelief at Hunter Pryde--the one man she'd hoped never to see again.
He returned her look, his expression one of cool
amusement. "Hello, Leah," he said. "It's been a long time."
His careless words brought a world of hurt. She
struggled to conceal her devastation, to hide the pain his kiss had
resurrected. After all that had gone before, after all they had once meant
to each other, how could he be so casual, so heartless? Hadn't he caused
enough anguish by walking out on her without...this?
"It hasn't been long enough as far as I'm concerned.
Why are you here, Hunter?" she demanded in a raw voice. "What do you want?"
He smiled briefly, a flash of white teeth in a
bronzed face. "You know what I want. The same thing I've always wanted."
She shook her head in desperation. "No. Not the
ranch."
"The ranch? Try again, Leah. I've come for you."
