

Cowboy Paradise

2015 Rhonda Lee Carver

Copyright © 2015 by Rhonda Lee Carver

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States

Published by Rhonda Lee Carver

Published at Smashwords

Cover Art by Samantha Holt

Cowboy Paradise (Cowboys of Nirvana)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations used in articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

Cara Rae looked up from behind the desk as Cleo, her employee and friend, walked into the room. "Hi, Cleo."

The seasoned woman looked over the top of her glasses with disapproval. "Are you still working on the books?"

Cara sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I think it's time I hire a bookkeeper."

"You did go home last night, right? Or did you sleep on the couch again?" Cleo picked up the blanket from the arm of the sofa and folded it.

"It was late when I called it a night. I just decided to stay here." Cara laid the pen down and yawned.

"Yeah, and that means you'll be no good today. No one can think on a tired brain. I'll open the store and you can go home to take a nap." Cleo was a motherly figure, and Cara appreciated her kindness.

"Thank you, but I'll stay. I would appreciate if you'd open the store and watch things while I finish up here. It shouldn't be too much longer."

Cleo sighed, nodded, and left Cara alone.

Her brain hurt. She wasn't sure how much she'd accomplish this morning, but she was on a deadline.

Picking the pen back up, she started punching numbers into the calculator when she heard a muted voice outside of her closed door. She listened closer and realized who it was. She clutched the pen so tight that her knuckles ached.

The door came crashing open. James stood in the doorway, his face flaming red and his hands balled into fists. Cara stood up so fast that the chair hit the wall.

"James, what are you doing here?"

"Where were you last night?" He forced the words through tight lips.

"I was here. I worked late and thought I'd—"

"I told you to never lie to me!"

She stayed behind the desk, clasping her hands together. "I'm not lying. And this isn't the time or place. Cleo is here and I have customers."

"I sent Cleo home. And you're officially closed for the day."

Her throat constricted. "Is that why you're here? To find out why I wasn't home last night?" She knew she'd have to deal with her husband sooner or later. "I told you I am on a deadline."

He stomped across the short space of the office, his steps muffled by the carpet. She took a step back but he was on her before she could move around the desk. "You bitch! I'll show you to never go against me again!" James grabbed Cara by the wrist, his fingers dug into her skin and a sharp pain crawled along her strained muscle. He pushed her down until she was on her knees at his feet with her arm turned at an odd angle. Her stomach rolled. Taking a long breath that burned her lungs, she exhaled slowly, hating that she was scared—always had been when it came to James and his—what she called—ugly streak. Over the last year, she'd seen more of his ugliness than the charm he'd once adorned her with. "Do you understand what I'm saying, you lousy whore?"

Her mind twisted. Did he expect her to reply? If she responded wrong, and she probably would, things could only go sour—worse than they already were. She knew this fact all too well. At times she thought this was his way of testing her or pushing buttons until he found a reason to hurt her, although he seemed to have a lot of reasons—almost all fabricated in his warped brain. He liked the power her fear gave him. She was certain that he could sense it. His enjoyment was evident in his glazed-over eyes and sickening grin. His malevolent expression disgusted her.

He grabbed her long hair with his free hand, tightening the strands around his knuckles, pulling the roots until she heard popping in her skull. Her scalp tingled, tears flowed down her cheeks, and bile rose in her throat. He was angrier now than he had been in a long time, yet she thought this every time. More veins bulged in his neck and she wondered if they burst would he die instantly?

The 'ugly streaks' were getting closer together and the calm times were far less. And his drinking had become an everyday occurrence. The advantage of his binges meant less time that he was home with her. Even now, he smelled strong of whiskey, burning her nostrils with the stink. Apparently he'd enjoyed a liquid breakfast.

He wobbled and she wondered if she gave him a hard kick to the ribs, would he fall? She'd pay a heavy price. Her days were spent walking around on eggshells, waiting for the hammer to drop. And it always dropped.

"You're lucky I give you the time of day. I could have done so much better for myself than settle for trash like you. No man will ever want you. No man will ever find you appealing, especially after I've used you all up until you're a sack of useless skin. You're ugly and not worth the dirt on my shoes."

She remained silent—sometimes it was best—although she wanted to scream the roof off. She wanted to fight back, but learned he was physically stronger than her.

"Did you allow that Baker boy to come into my house?" He sniffed loudly.

"What are you talking about?" She tried pushing away but he held her tight.

"Sandy Millner told me she saw him in my house yesterday."

Sandy Millner was their neighbor, and James had the woman manipulated by his fake charm. However, Cara doubted that the woman told him anything.

Cara knew denying that she'd 'broken' another rule wouldn't help. "It-it was raining—pouring—he had the groceries in his arms and they were getting wet." It was an honest answer, but would it suffice James's inane suspicions and put them to rest? The truth never seemed to solace him any other time.

"What have I told you? No man steps foot in my house unless I'm home. What is it about that rule you don't get? But what else would I expect from a slut. From day one you've proven you're only good for one thing and it's that crevice between your legs." To prove his words, he reached down and squeezed her inner thighs hard. "And even that is unsatisfactory."

She cringed at his hateful words, never understanding how he could call her such names when he was the only one she'd ever been with intimately—and her sex life with James was a far cry from being normal. She often wondered what lovemaking was like between two people who cared for each other. What would marriage be like with a man who loved her?

James had never cared or loved her. He never believed in her or their marriage.

On occasion, he would sit in his car down the street from their house, watching. During these times, he was supposed to be working. Owning his own private law office afforded him the ability to come and go as he pleased. Without a doubt, that was how he knew she'd let the grocery boy, Tommy Baker, come into the house for merely two minutes. James would really have her head if he knew she gave Tommy an extra fat tip from the stash she kept hidden in a jar under the kitchen cabinet. Cara didn't consider it a lie, the stash or the tip. After all, Tommy was working his way through college and she found it pathetic that James had their groceries delivered. She didn't get out as much as she wanted and going to work was her only solace. James was slowly stripping away all of her independence. Maybe if she apologized they could end the fight and she could get back to work. "I was wrong. I'll never do it again. I promise!" Her voice trembled.

"How can I believe a lying cunt like you? Your promises are useless, just like you are!" he hissed the words and pushed her out of his hold, a chunk of hair ripped from her scalp. She didn't care. She could live without that bit of hair. Little did he know she could live without him too. He was in for a big surprise...

He lifted his hand high and brought it down, thwacking her hard across the cheek—

so hard that she hit her head against the chair. Her vision blurred and her temple throbbed, but victory loomed within her reach. Soon...very, very soon.

Chapter One

Three years later...

The creaking and popping of the old Victorian house brought Cara to a sitting position in bed. She listened closer, but only heard silence. She was alone.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose and wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, she forced her breath in and out of her lungs, calming the fast beating of her heart. The last panic attack had been months ago and she wasn't about to have another one. Not tonight.

She'd had a nightmare about James—a nightly event that she had no control over. Three years had passed since the accident, the one that had brought her freedom, yet the damage had already been done.

After James had accused her of sleeping with Tommy Baker, and slapped her around, Cara had blacked out. When she awoke a few minutes later, she'd heard the whirling of sirens. Then what happened was a blur. James was arrested and Cara was taken by ambulance to the hospital where Cleo was waiting. She'd admitted that she'd called the sheriff. She had been worried about Cara's safety when James had ordered Cleo to leave the store. Once released from the hospital a few hours later, Cara went to the sheriff's department where picture after picture was taken, and statement after statement was given.

Cara went home, packed up all of James's things and took them to his sister's house. Early the next morning, Cara went out of town and hired a divorce attorney.

Pulling strings, James was let go from jail. Celebrating his release, he'd gotten drunk at his local hangout and called her threatening that if she didn't stop divorce proceedings, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. She didn't need the finer details to understand what he was suggesting. But, she'd decided she would rather die than live another day with him.

When the bar closed and he left, he ran his truck into a tree. A passerby found him dead a mile from Cara's house. She often wondered if he'd gotten what he'd deserved. Maybe karma had played a hand in his demise.

When she'd opened the door and the deputy told her the news of the accident, she knew she was free at last. Never having to live in fear again was priceless. But she'd felt an unexplainable guilt that stuck with her. Although the love she'd had for James had died years before, a part of her questioned if she could have saved and changed him if she'd divorced him much sooner.

Yet, in her heart, she realized he never would have changed.

A second shock had come when she learned James had bought himself and Cara a life insurance policy, merely two months before his death. There was a certain amount of suspicion why he'd taken one out on her too, but she'd been awarded enough money upon his death that she could do all of the things that he'd kept her from doing during their marriage.

First thing she did was sell his law practice, then sunk the money into her shop, Time is of Essence. She loved working with vintage clothing and jewelry, a challenge she needed to help her get through the healing. The business had grown, especially after she'd opened an online store, and she didn't have to worry about anything except...

Her future.

It seemed bleak.

There weren't many prospects for her in Coal Springs, Texas, and she'd thought about packing up and moving to a place where no one knew her past. She hadn't gotten that far yet. The few single men in town, known as bad boys, who'd asked her on a date, she'd turned down flat. Not only were they not her type, but that jerk of a dead husband of hers messed up her mind—and her heart. He'd told her enough times that she was ugly and worthless and she'd finally believed him. He'd hypnotized her with his degrading insults and his physical abuse. Certain parts of her brain were malfunctioned—and vital parts of her body.

She'd spent enough money on a therapist that she could have traveled the world three times over, but nothing had really changed in all of the years. She was still alone. She was still damaged.

And yet, she still had dreams.

Cara wanted a family—wanted a child more than her next breath. She'd always hoped by now she would have found someone else, had a supportive partner, but maybe James had been right, she would never find a man that wanted a washed up woman. Enough people in town knew of her situation with James. They steered clear of her. His sister, Tammy, had spread rumor after rumor, mainly how Cara was at fault for James dying and how she'd caused him to drink heavily and turn abusive. Cara shrugged off the statements.

She had bigger fish to fry.

The problem was, she was broken inside. She didn't know if it was possible to trust another man, to love again. To feel secure in the arms of another. But she had to try to rebuild. Try to move ahead. She was too young to lie down and give up. She couldn't let James win—couldn't let him control her from his grave.

Clicking on the bedside lamp, she hit the book on the nightstand and it dropped to the floor. As she reached to grab it, something caught her eye. She stared at the brochure she'd thrown into the trash can a few weeks before after a tense and depressing visit with her therapist, Deidre. She told Cara things had come to a standstill in her therapy. Deidre slipped Cara the brochure, telling her to read it and to consider it as an option. Deidre had said, "It would do you some good to get away and a R&R is a perfect place to recharge."

Cara had left the office, feeling down, and had almost forgotten about the brochure. She had skimmed through it, reading about the Nirvana Ranch. She didn't need a vacation. She had the shop to worry about.

After another nightmare, she was on the brink of desperation.

Sighing, she took the pamphlet from the can and placed it in her lap. She read the cover...

"Nirvana Ranch. A place where people find tranquility in nature. A spa for the soul."

The picture of horses and the lovely sunset was definitely an attention getter. No denying her curiosity was tweaked, although she wasn't sure the ranch was what she needed. How could she go away right now? And to a spa? She opened the cover and floated through the information. Seclusion. Horses. Riding and lessons. Hiking trails. Massages. A life skills coach. "Oh my." Her throat constricted.

She read further.

"Visit us online and apply for an opportunity to visit Nirvana. We hope to see you soon." Nope, not going to happen.

Dropping the brochure back into the trash, she turned off the lamp, rolled over and buried her head into the pillow.

The clock ticked. The wind whistled. Tree branches scratched the window. Her heart pounded inside of her chest and her palms were sweaty.

Punching the pillow twice, she jerked the blanket over her head. Once she fell asleep her nightmares would find her.

She wondered what it would be like to sleep peacefully for one night.

She could take the over-the-counter sleep aid that helped, but she didn't like thinking she would be in a deep sleep and not arousing if something happened. A fire. A break-in. An important phone call. Who would call her in the middle of the night? No one called her during the day either. Her one, and only, friend was Cleo. Cara had more in common with the seasoned woman than anyone. Most thirty-year-olds were out having fun, but Cara stayed home every night.

What would life be like if she found herself again, the young woman with compassion, adoration for life and a romantic fantasy of love and family? She'd been so happy before it was crushed under the weight of reality.

Turning on the light again, the pamphlet seemed to draw her like a beacon.

Her options were thin. She could live in fear and a safe bubble for the rest of her life, or get over the hell she'd once lived and had surrounded her like iron bars of a prison. Take a vacation. Do what normal people do.

She took the pamphlet and tapped the shiny paper with one nail.

It was time she kicked her husband out of her brain.

****

Ben Kade stared down the length of the pock-marked fence. Ranch hands, his friends and co-workers at Nirvana Ranch, were gathering around, greeting each other.

He looked out over the fields where the horses grazed. A hushed chatter arose from the men. Ben remained quiet, listening. There was always a tense excitement, for some more than others, as a new round of heartbreaks were scheduled to come and stay at the ranch. 'Heartbreaks' was a name the staff called the visitors, because everyone who came through Nirvana had a story to tell, whether they knew it or not. Heartbreaks spent a lot of money to come here to enjoy the outdoors, learn new life skills, fish and ride horses—and to get away from the hustle and bustle of a busy life. Over the years, he'd seen hundreds of women come and go, women because ninety-nine percent of the guests were female. Most were single, some were married, and some were looking for a getaway while they cleared their head. A few came to hike through the trails with an experienced guide, or to learn to cook by taking lessons from the staff chef. On occasion, guests came to meet the legendary rodeo star and owner of Nirvana—Chase Sever. He was picked as Wyoming's bachelor of the year two years running. He was always willing to sign an autograph and shake a hand, but he no longer cared for the spotlight.

Each and every one of Nirvana's visitors had their own reason for coming. A lot of them were rich, city folk who wanted to find out what it was like on the other side of the fence, so to speak. They brought their fancy western clothing and shiny boots and wanted to experience nature at its best. A few had never even breathed fresh air.

The workers here at Nirvana had stories to tell too, and most of them liked the fact that they were far away from civilization and the fast track. That's how most of them landed on the secluded ranch, because they needed to find themselves again.

Ben looked at Maverick, who was leaning against the fence. The thirty-something cowboy wore his past on his harsh expression. He'd lost his wife to an illness six years ago. Further down he saw Jace, who grew up in a home with only his dad, who was an alcoholic. The men knew what it was like to lose. Ben didn't know all of their stories. Some weren't as loose-lipped as others.

Ben started working as a ranch hand at Nirvana four years ago. Little did he know when he signed onto the job it would require more than tending horses and stacking bales of hay. It required healing, slowly and gradually. There was something about the countryside that made a person search for answers.

His main duty was to tend the horses and see that the guests were treated with kindness and consideration. He was called a 'friend' of many women over the years. Teach a woman riding lessons and how to fish and she wanted to spill every malfunction in her life. He didn't mind. He'd always been a good listener. Every now and then a guest would flash a set of nice tits and flaunt a nice, tight bottom, but it didn't 'move' him like it once did. He knew they were lonely, and everyone looked good when a person was lonely.

Sex between heartbreaks and hands was against the rules, although Ben knew that sometimes, in a rare case, the workers found themselves caught up and human nature took its irrefutable course. For Ben, he didn't like mixing personal and professional. He couldn't say he'd never found himself in the bed of a beautiful heartbreak once or twice, but that was back when he first started, during the first year when the temptation was a lot for a boy from a small town. Now, he had a couple of women from the next town over that he met on occasion, but even that didn't happen much these days. He was in a slump.

He removed his hat and rubbed his forehead.

"I'm ready for the new heartbreaks," Dade said as he took a seat on the top rail. "Ready to see people besides all you ugly men."

Ben shook his head. "When aren't you ready?"

Dade was the youngest cowboy and had more charm than he knew what to do with. His dimples alone made the ladies swoon, and his naïve, country boy innocence made him a danger to himself at times. He hadn't quite earned his spurs yet, so to speak. He was a kid in a candy store. Chase used Dade for transporting and errands. Ben knew Dade was in a hurry to advance on the proverbial ladder to success, to become a ranch hand, but the kid didn't understand that everything looked better from afar.

"Maybe I'll join you fellas in the ranks soon. I'm ready to do more than meet and greet." Dade's eyes twinkled with hope. "I want to teach riding lessons. I could also do crossbow. I heard Chase is adding dance lessons next season. Yeah, I'd be real good at Latin dancing."

"That's up to the boss." Ben wished he had half of Dade's unabashed excitement. Once upon a time, Ben couldn't wait for a new season, new opportunities. With age comes maturity. And disappointment.

He considered himself a man with a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen and a boost to a woman's bruised ego, here on the ranch or off. But he never allowed his emotions to get involved—or his dick. Some of the men joked that Ben didn't have any emotions and that's why he was good as a hand at Nirvana. He didn't succumb to every pretty woman who batted her eyelashes—and boy did the ladies get out here in the country and get horny. Unfortunately, after an article was published in a prestigious magazine liking Nirvana to "a cowboy orgy" Chase was on a warpath. It was an unfair and unsubstantiated article by a journalist who hadn't even visited Nirvana. Sure, some lines were crossed at times, but nothing more than what happened at any other R&R anywhere in the world. Get people together and sometimes they wanted to explore something besides the trails.

"I second that, Dade. I'm ready to get this show on the road. I can't wait for riding lessons with the new paints. The women are always excited to learn to ride." Jared winked and pounded Dade on the back.

"You keep joking like that and we're going to start believing you can't keep your dick in your pants, Jared. And Chase is going to send you packing. It must be the bad boy image and the tattoos that have all the ladies falling." Maverick chuckled.

"Did I hear the mention of ladies?" Dodge asked as he strolled up and took a seat on a bale of hay. Dodge was an ex-football player turned cowboy. After an injury to his knee during a huge game, he could no longer play. Ben believed the man was still sore, inside and out, over the defeat.

"We were in the middle of pointing out Jared's talent with the women." Ben put emphasis on the word 'talent'. "I'm sure there's at least one in the new batch who can't resist his appeal."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Jared scrubbed his jaw. "A little flirting never hurt anyone." Jared blew on the back of his knuckles and rubbed them down his plaid shirt.

"We're hands. Not lovers. Most of these women wouldn't even look twice at us out on the street. But loneliness can turn a frog into a prince." Dodge shook his head.

"There are limits to everything, boys." Chase sauntered over. Salt and peppered hair, pale eyes and a harsh jawline, he had a power about him that warned others that he wasn't one to mess with. But he was a helluva good boss—the best—and was always fair and easy to talk to. "And Jared, I think sometimes your boundaries are blurred. Good thing that hasn't become a problem yet. You're a damn good worker. I'd hate to lose you because you can't see the lines. Remember, it's my reputation on the line if you fuck up, so don't."

"Has a heartbreak complained?" Jared lifted one thick brow.

"No, on the contrary." Chase removed his hat and hooked it on the post. "So far, all of the women gush about that purdy tattoo you have on your left cheek. No one seems to mind that you like to skinny dip," he joked.

Jared smiled ear-to-ear and patted one pocket of his worn jeans. "The bull never lets anyone down."

Laughter bellowed from the men. The cowboys had become Ben's friends...more than that though. They were his family, something he'd lost before he came here. They didn't always get along, and sometimes they were known to throw punches, but they respected each other. Ben knew they had his back, and he had theirs. There was something soothing about the ranch and he was glad to be a part of the change that happened to others—but lately he felt that he was missing something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"On a more serious note, keep in mind, we're here to offer peace, cater to the guests, teach some skills, not make it worse for them when they leave. If one of the heartbreaks falls in love, it's your head that'll roll. I've said that to all of the workers." Chase propped his foot on the bottom rail. He was a large, muscled man and the wood creaked under his brawny frame. Before he bought the ranch, back when he was famous, he took a dirt bath off a mean bull, was hurt pretty bad and retired. He had the scars to prove how tough and rough he'd been. "Now let's go over the details before the heartbreaks arrive. As you've all heard, Townsend is no longer on staff here—"

"What'd he do, break client privilege?" Dodge laughed.

Chase shook his head. "No, he took another job. Plain and simple, nothing sinister involved."

"He was way too edgy anyway," Jace added. "A good pussy would have eased his uptight ass—"

"Let's stop right there." Chase sighed. "We're getting off track and if you boys plan on having one last evening out before the heartbreaks arrive tomorrow, we'd better get this meeting over with. I want you all home and in bed at a reasonable hour. You need your beauty sleep so you can be real purdy for the ladies. And if you want to let the horse out of the corral, this would be the time to get it out of your system. Ain't one of you that can't go two weeks without lovin', no matter what you say." Chase directed his gaze at Jared who smiled. Chase shook his head and looked at each cowboy. "We have a new life skills coach, she'll be here this evening. Her name is Sofie."

"She? Won't that upset the testosterone thing we've got going on here?" Dade asked.

"I think it sounds exactly like what we need. And what the heartbreaks need," Ben said. "And from what I hear, we're lucky to get her. She was a coach to celebrities a while back."

Chase nodded. "I happen to agree. That's why I hired her. You boys'll have to keep your pants on outside of your cabins. Pull back on the cursing and rubbing of crotches. Show some respect. We don't want to send her packing before she even gets started."

"I finished up the repairs on her cabin yesterday. New wood flooring, curtains. Made it look more girly like you asked, boss." Jace was an exceptional carpenter and handled all of the repairs at the ranch.

"Sounds great. I took a look earlier and it meets my satisfaction. Can't say I know much about what a woman fancies in home decoration, but she can change what she doesn't like." Chase's jaw tightened and he rubbed his temple.

Ben noticed that Chase was a little tense. Ben considered the man a good friend and wondered if the article still bothered him. Maybe they'd get a chance to talk.

"How many new cattle did we get, boss?" Maverick asked.

"A dozen head. We also have new horses for the heartbreaks to ride, as you know. Thanks to Ben, he's made new saddles for a few of the horses. Ben got the new cart since his bit the dust." The men nodded and mumbled recognition to Ben then turned their attention back to Chase. "You've all been assigned your new duties. I think we should plan to make this the best season of all. We have five new heartbreaks who'll be arriving throughout the day tomorrow. While they're here we give them privacy. Anything they need, we get it for them. Let's make them feel welcome. Motley has a new menu for you boys, too. He's on a health food kick." Moans were heard from the group. Chase handed a folder to each of them. "Take a quick glance over the bios so you'll know the ladies' names. Any questions?"

Silence.

"Since no one is speaking up, I'll take that as we're all briefed and ready. Now, enjoy your evening, boys, and be safe. If I have to come and bail any of you out of jail, I'll dock pay for a month. Got that?"

Nods and mumbles of understanding came from the men.

The meeting was adjourned and the cowboys cleared out, ready to head to the hangout in town where they always gathered the night before the heartbreaks visited.

"Hey, Chase. Got a moment?" Ben said.

"Not much more than a minute."

"You doing okay?"

"You know how hectic things get around here before our guests arrive. If it's not one thing, it's another." Ben sensed there was more but he didn't pressure Chase. "I should be asking you if you're holding up. You don't seem yourself," Chase said.

"Can't say things are much different, but you know I always give each day one-hundred percent."

"You know that's not what I'm asking, man." Chase narrowed his gaze. "Men come into this job feeling like they're on top of the world, but we all know it comes with burn out. Some reach that stage quicker than others. You've gotta face the fact that maybe your time to move on is coming. It's possible you want more for yourself. Time to go out in the world. Step back into real life. Start a family."

"Is that your way of telling me you want me to pack up and head out?" Ben leaned on his elbows.

"Hell, don't mince my words. You're the best cowboy we have here. It'll be hard to find a cowboy to fill those boots of yours, that is, if you decide to leave. See how this season goes and make a decision." He pushed off the fence. "If you need to talk, stop in my office. Ya hear?"

Ben nodded and sat down on a hay bale.

Eventually, Ben opened the folder and skimmed each heartbreak's brief information. Part of the registration process was that participants filled out a basic form and were asked a series of questions. Each registrant was required to send in a recent profile picture with their packet of material.

He flipped through the professional headshots of the women until he came to one. He took the photo out from the small stack.

He found her bio. Cara. Thirty. A Texas resident. Loves animals and vintage clothing.

The brunette with the pale complexion had the biggest, saddest blue eyes he'd ever seen. She didn't quite look into the camera lens as she took the selfie. Was she shy and uncomfortable? These days, women, and men, were selfie crazy, but not this woman. He found her coyness refreshing.

Something in her expression reminded him of his past. He'd buried that part of him, but with the slightest reminder, those memories dashed to the forefront of his existence like a jackhammer in his head.

He didn't like taking a stroll down memory lane. When old emotions were kindled, he'd go out and work his ass off on the land. It worked better than a good drunk did.

Closing the folder, he wedged it under his arm and stood.

"Hey, Ben. Are you coming tonight?" Maverick asked from the barn door.

Ben opened his mouth, ready to say no, but then he thought better of it. All of his work was done and he needed to get away, not sit around thinking of the past. "Yes."

"We're leaving in thirty."

"Okay. Meet you in the parking lot."

Maverick disappeared and Ben inhaled the sweet scent of freshly mowed grass and hay. He looked up and his thoughts rushed back to the woman, Cara. Her eyes were as light as the sky and as mesmerizing.

He walked toward his cabin at the end of staff row. Once inside, he tossed the folder onto his full sized bed and strode inside the small bathroom to splash his face with cold water. When he came back, his gaze automatically shifted to the bio folder.

What the hell was wrong with him?

What did he recognize in this Cara woman's eyes that reminded him of the pain he'd suffered years ago?

Hell, he had his own story to tell.

Laura, his teenage sister, had gone riding one morning, something she did all of the time, and was thrown from her horse's back. Ben would never know for sure what happened while she was riding, but when he found her later, she was lifeless. The image of her body would be branded in his brain forever.

The guilt was a plague.

Laura had asked him to go riding with her, but he'd been too busy with work. He told her to wait until later, but stubborn and headstrong, she'd decided to go alone. The blame had eaten him alive for so long. If he'd gone with her, she'd still be alive, he was certain.

His chest tightened and he dropped onto the bed, the springs squeaked under his weight. He'd left his parents' home with only a small bag of his belongings and a heart full of sadness. He'd hitchhiked his way across Wyoming, and by chance met Maverick at a roadside diner. He told Ben about Nirvana and the opportunities.

Seeing that he had nothing to lose and nowhere else to go, he joined Maverick. Ben had expected that when he arrived at Nirvana, Chase would send Ben packing. Instead, Chase had invited him to stay. They were expanding and needed hardworking cowboys.

In time, Ben had been able to bury some of his pain and guilt. He'd found a place here at Nirvana and hadn't been home but a few times since he'd left.

There were moments when Ben hated to admit the truth, but he was lonely. Not a loneliness of solitude because he was always surrounded by great people, but one that came with not having someone to laugh with or share life's issues with—like what his parents shared. They loved each other dearly.

Ben hoped that one day he'd find his soul mate, but he was starting to think he didn't have one—not that he'd find the one here on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Women came and went. They used the ranch as a stepping-stone into their future, to learn a new skill or to getaway, not to find Mr. Right. No woman would want a cowboy who didn't even own his own ranch.

Chase's words of wisdom came to Ben's mind. He needed to make some personal decisions. At times over the past year, he thought about leaving Nirvana. But where would he go?

He could go back home to his family's ranch, but he knew it wouldn't be the same. Although his mom and dad never placed the guilt on his shoulders for Laura's death, they didn't need to. Seeing their sadness had killed Ben.

He could buy a piece of land and call it home, but that could be a problem. Though they were paid here on the ranch, part of their salary was for lodging and food, and when it came to actual money, Ben hadn't saved up a lot.

Another option was to apply for a job in a saddle shop. He loved working with leather, making belts and saddles. It was something he did when no heartbreaks were at the ranch. He'd discovered his love for leather one winter season. The ranch was quiet and covered in a blanket of snow, the silence was deafening. He had cabin fever and needed something to do with his time—with his hands. He found a book in Maverick's small library and read up on how to work with leather. He bought the supplies, learned the trade, and was hooked.

Sometimes he thought it was all a dream, to deliberate doing more, leaving his home of the last four years. To think there was more outside of the ranch was a risk. He'd built a safety net here and he could think of far worse places to be. So he guessed he should consider himself lucky that he had landed here at the bleakest time of his life.

Ben considered himself a likeable guy. He was kind, gentle, and honest—Laura told him he was a perfect gentleman. What would she think of him now if she could see him?

She'd probably tell him that he'd never find a suitable woman and have a family while he was working another man's land. He chuckled. Although he wasn't in any hurry to leave Nirvana, there were long, cold nights that he longed for someone to hold. Someone to make love with besides just a bed partner he'd meet up with when the need struck.

He got up from the bed and walked to the window, staring out but seeing nothing. He loved sex, and despite the belief that he shouldn't have any problems in that area, he didn't have sex very often. Working on the ranch wasn't what some people thought. They weren't gigolos or cowboys for hire. They did want to make the guests happy, just like the staff at a hotel. In fact, there weren't many women who visited the ranch that he found himself attracted to. A lot of the heartbreaks were divorced socialites who just wanted to get away and be left alone for a while. He wasn't in their league—rich or refined enough for their tastes. They lived in a different world than him.

How did this newest heartbreak, Cara, fit with the rest?

Something he saw in Cara's eyes told him she'd suffered more than he could understand. She carried a lot of sadness and her eyes were a window into her grief.

He could offer her friendship.

He went to his closet, grabbed the first shirt he came to and dragged it on. He could use a beer.

Chapter Two

Cara's fingers tightened on the armrests as the plane's engines roared to life. She hated flying, but after mapping the distance from Texas to Wyoming, nineteen hours driving wasn't happening.

Unfortunately, she left Coal Springs a day early, not by choice.

Cleo had reserved the flight for Cara and had scheduled a seat on the wrong day. Cara wasn't due at Nirvana Ranch until tomorrow. By the time Cara had realized Cleo's mistake, there were no other flights available.

Cara rummaged in her purse, pulling out the reservation for the hotel she'd booked, the closest to Nirvana that she could find. There weren't many accommodations in the area. She'd stay the night and then travel to the ranch early tomorrow.

The flight attendant finished her safety speech, the cue they were ready for takeoff. Cara stuffed the hotel information back into her purse and checked her seatbelt twice to make sure it was secure and tight. Flying made her queasy, but it still beat driving long distance, alone.

Once they were in the air, the engine noise quieted some and she was able to relax a little. She laid her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes, her mind wandering to her upcoming adventure. She couldn't believe she was on her way to the Nirvana Ranch—paradise, from what she'd read on the internet. She could even learn cooking lessons from a chef who once had a restaurant in Paris. An ex-football star taught crossbow, and a life skills coach helped with a new way of living. This was the most daring thing she'd ever done in her life. Her heart raced, and yet she felt something else that was unfamiliar. Enthusiasm.

Her therapist assured her again that the Nirvana was a place where Cara could get away from memories. She wasn't quite sure that was possible, to leave the memories behind, but she wanted to approach her visit with an open mind. After all, who wouldn't love to spend two weeks on a ranch?

Cara had to trust Deidre more. But sometimes her guidance didn't work as planned.

Deidre had suggested yoga. Cara tried it and lasted all of five seconds. She did however start walking to and from work instead of driving. The exercise helped her feel more refreshed. Deidre recommended masturbation because understanding how the mechanics work below the waist would help her know what she liked as well as help her relieve stress. Cara had gone home and tried pleasuring herself with her fingers. She found it impossible to reach orgasm and ended up edgy and disgruntled, feeling far more broken than before. She then searched online for a store that carried 'toys.' The vast selection had been overwhelming, and since she'd never purchased sexual aides in the past, Cara had no clue what would work. In fact, some of the options didn't seem like they'd fit—literally. Of course, buying a toy wasn't a decision that required a lot of thought process, like buying a car or house would, so she settled for a slick, glass dildo in her favorite color... pink. When the box came in the mail, the dildo was broken. Cara had almost cried at the irony. It was a sign that she wasn't meant to achieve sexual success.

The Nirvana offered hope, not in her sexual quandary of course, but Deidre believed it would help Cara build confidence. No one knew her there and she could be anybody she wanted to be. She believed too that it was easier to step out of a bubble without the threat of someone shoving insults down her throat or reminding her of the past. It was worth a shot. If anything, she could barricade herself in her cabin with a good book. There was a new one out, written by her favorite author, that she was excited to start on—an erotica that would get Cara's fantasies stirring. She had plenty, just no one to share them with.

The vacation wouldn't be a complete loss.

Everything was taken care of at her shop. Cleo could manage the place blindfolded, unless she handled it like she did Cara's plane ticket. Although, she had a feeling her friend did it on purpose. When Cara had told Cleo about Nirvana, she had mentioned that she hoped Cara didn't back out. It was true she'd debated canceling the trip, not only once, but daily since she received her packet through email. But once she stuck the check in the mail, her fate was written in stone.

In the end, no one would miss her at home.

Her throat ached. Her life had very little meaning. James had stripped her of everything and taken away every strand of her individuality. She was a cold, blank canvas, wishing for an artist's touch.

She was a weak, scared woman. Finding her backbone would offer her an open book to write a new story. Her first step was Nirvana Ranch, a vacation away from everyone to focus on herself. Nature promoted relaxation. A life skills coach was on staff who, by what Cara read on the website, would help her learn strategies to reduce stress.

And if by chance she found her old self at Nirvana, by the miracle of fresh air, she wouldn't allow another man to ever come along and take her independence again.

How had she allowed James to rid her of so much? People questioned why she hadn't left him sooner, when she realized he was an abuser, as if somehow she was at fault. She guessed there were many reasons. None that many people would understand.

Opening her eyes, she stared through the window into the clouds and the pale blue sky. There was a peace here in the sky, away from the world, and she wasn't as scared as she thought she would be.

James had been a respected citizen in their community. He rubbed elbows with the popular and influential socialites, and there were a lot of doubting people, even after he was arrested.

Her husband had always been good at manipulation. He had known exactly where to hit her so no sign of injury would be visible—a skill he'd learned from his father who'd beaten James's mother almost daily. If there happened to be bruising in an exposed place, like Cara's face or arms, she'd stay inside the house and he'd come up with an excuse for her absence.

None of their friends—his friends—had ever known about the abuse within the walls of the nice house in the pleasant part of town. Cleo had been Cara's one and only confidant.

Thinking back, Cara did wish she'd left him sooner. In all truth, she'd known from as far back as their honeymoon in Fiji that there was something disturbing about him.

She'd saved herself for marriage and had notions of how lovely and quixotic the first time would be. The actual moment was the complete opposite of what she'd expected, or would have ever wanted.

James had gotten drunk at the sand bar and came stumbling back to their hut along the beach. What should have been a night of candles, romance, and sensuality, turned out with him roughly removing her lace, satin gown and taking her virginity in three harsh pumps.

The hope was still alive for her though, even after they'd arrived home. She'd blamed his rough and careless actions on their honeymoon on his drunken stupor , and held out optimism that the next time would be different. But nothing changed, not really. It had only become more daunting.

Sober, James didn't have an appetite for sex. Drunk, he liked it raw and controlling. If they tried to have 'normal' sex, he couldn't get hard. He needed to pull her hair, sometimes too hard, or bind her wrists to complete their lovemaking. If she'd felt loved and cared for, she wouldn't have minded exploring in the bedroom, but the only completion was on his side. When she started refusing him, that's when his character took a turn for the worse.

The first time he became enraged had been a summer evening, right after their first year of marriage. They'd returned home from a social gathering with neighbors and she'd asked him why he'd flirted all evening with his secretary. He had drunk too much and, of course, he denied his flirtatious behavior. They'd gone to bed and he wanted to tie her up with a thick, coarse rope he'd found in the garage. She wasn't in the mood and told him she was going to sleep. In slurred speech, he'd called her a few names and told her it was her fault that he couldn't manage an erection under normal circumstances. From that evening on, he pointed out that sad fact to her every chance he got.

When she would try touching him, with no physical reaction in his body, he'd laugh at her. He delighted in verbal abuse, telling her she was too skinny or too fat. Too ugly or too pale. Too stupid or too smart. She was never good enough, no matter what she did.

During their marriage, not once did they use contraception and Cara had wondered why she didn't become pregnant. Was it a strike of luck? Was James shooting blanks? Or was that another failure on her part, as he'd often blamed her. He told Cara she was a waste of vagina and tits.

She'd wanted a child with all her being, but not with James. She couldn't have brought a child into a home where a man ruled like a tyrant and flew off the handle with the slightest provocation.

Cara realized early on James's reputable status as an attorney had a lot of people in town bamboozled, and gave him superiority. She believed he'd had affairs with several women over the course of their marriage, but at some point Cara had stopped caring.

James had been a good-looking man. Dark hair that he kept perfectly slicked back and a clean-shaven face, even if that meant he had to shave twice a day. He went to the gym daily, often working out hours at a time. He had a sleek, toned body that spoke of his love of lifting weights and dressing in quality suits that accentuated his physical assets. The better looking he became, the homelier Cara was, exactly the way he wanted things.

When he started working late hours, probably with his lover, Cara would indulge herself in the peace and quiet. She'd design and sew outfits, none that she'd ever wear. She was always good at helping others dress nice, but never herself. She'd try her hand at new recipes and watch movies that James would never take the time for. He called them chick flicks and he thought it lessened his manhood by watching them.

She wasn't sure how she'd ended up with a man like James. Looking back, she knew she'd been attracted to his outgoing character, opposite her passive nature. Growing up with loving and kind parents in a small town in Ohio, she lived in a bubble. Her father was in law enforcement and had died at age forty from a heart attack. Her mom had taken odd jobs to add to Cara's father's pension and, although they weren't rich, they were happy. James had appeared, swept Cara off her feet and she had no clue what was to come. He was ten years older, suave, and bought her nice gifts.

After they married, he moved her to Texas and Cara had only seen her mother two more times before she'd died.

Cara touched the cold glass of the window. She lived with many regrets.

Deidre's words came to her, "Think of this as an adventure. You never know where it'll lead you."

****

Ben skimmed the room from his seat at the bar. He brought the long neck to his lips and guzzled half the beer. Maverick and Dodge were on the dance floor, each with women who hung out at Mosley's on a nightly basis. The rest of the guys were at the pool table, and Ben wasn't in the mood. Finishing his bottle, he set it down with a thud and slid off the stool.

Pulling his keys from his front pocket, he held them up, motioning to Dade. "I'm leaving," Ben gave him a quick nod then stepped outside, taking a deep breath. He shouldn't have come. Instead of relaxing, he felt on edge. He just couldn't get his mind to rest.

He walked toward his truck and heard a jangling sound coming from the hotel across the parking lot. In the dimly lit vending area, he spotted a woman dropping coins into one of the machines. He continued his pace, hit the unlock button on his key pad, and opened the door.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" The woman was pounding on the machine and then gave it a good kick with her foot. Must have eaten her coins. Ben chuckled and shook his head.

The shadows shifted and he adjusted his eyes, narrowing in on movement along the dark side of the hotel's walkway. A man stepped into the lighted area close to the woman who was focused on abusing the machine. From the man's swaying amble, Ben guessed the stranger had left the bar and was looking for his room. The woman was completely unaware that she was no longer alone.

Ben waited and watched. He knew the area wasn't high in crime, but it wasn't safe for a woman to be out alone at this hour.

The woman's head came up just as the wobbling man approached her. She backed up, pressed her body against the machine and in the overhead light he could see her wide-eyed expression. Ben's protective instincts slammed into gear and he managed to cross the parking lot in three paces.

"Is there a problem here?" Ben asked as he stepped into the light.

The woman didn't acknowledge him, but the drunk turned his head toward Ben. The smell of whiskey was strong and sour. "Just chekin' to see if the lady needs a hand," the man slurred.

The lady in reference, still holding the machine like a lifeline, looked at Ben and his chest tightened. It was her! Cara...from the bio he'd read earlier. He'd know the eyes anywhere—and the pouty lips and pale skin that looked pasty under the bad lighting. But what was she doing here? She wasn't due at Nirvana until tomorrow. She looked as vulnerable as a baby kitten facing a wolf. "I don't think the lady wants your help, partner."

"Let the lady speak fir herself, paaartner." The man leaned in and started to go down, but he caught his balance.

"I-I don't need any help. Thank you, anyway." There was a quiver to her small voice.

"Well, there you have it. The lady has spoken. Now walk on." Ben took a step closer, so close the stench of stale liquor singed his nostrils.

The stranger lifted his chin, attempting to make eye contact with Ben, who was over a head taller, and at least fifty pounds heavier. "I'm just aimin' to help. I ain't gonna hurt the sweet thing."

"Yes, I'm sure you have clean intentions here, pal, but you're one sip away from face-planting the sidewalk. Call it a night, ya hear?" Ben infused more force to his voice this time. He'd hate to have to 'help' the man to his room.

Realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere with Cara or Ben, the man pushed off the vending machine and stumbled up the sidewalk. Once he was gone from sight, Ben turned to Cara and offered her a smile. "You can peel yourself off the soda machine now, ma'am." He tilted his hat in greeting.

Some of the worry left her expression. She moved to the side, but crossed her arms over her chest as if she still was in danger. Ben took a step back, allowing her space. If only this woman could understand that he'd never hurt her, and that he'd done nothing but think of her since he saw her picture. No, he couldn't tell her that. She'd think he was as creepy as the man who'd just disappeared into the shadows. In fact, Ben found it a little unsettling that he found her in the parking lot.

"Th-thank you. I wasn't expecting that." Her voice still trembled.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance. If it's all the same to you, I'll wait with you just in case he decides to come back."

She blinked. "I'll be fine."

He smiled. "I bet so, but it appears you're having some issue with the machine."

"I can let the office know—"

"Sorry, ma'am, but I know the attendant in the office and I do believe I just saw him over at the bar cozying with a tall glass of beer. 'Fraid he won't be of any help. Let me try." Ben moved and Cara took a huge step back. He didn't blame her for being cautious. He gave the machine a hard shake and pounded the side. A rattling sound was followed by a bottle dropping. "Sometimes these machines can be a little testy." He winked.

"I don't know how to thank you enough."

"No worries."

"I should be on my way." She moistened her bottom lip and turned on her heel.

Ben reached in through the slot and retrieved her drink. "Don't forget this. After all, it was the cause for a lot of trouble for you."

She turned back, took the bottle and the tips of their fingers brushed. Sparks flew up his arm, a sigh slipped from her lips and their gazes met and held. Seconds ticked by like hours while his heart pounded in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead. Her mouth tightened. And just as quickly the moment faded. She nervously pulled the bottle close to her chest, wringing the neck with her hands and an image shot through his brain—her hands were on him, touching him, pumping his co—

"Bye." Before he could say a word, she had vanished with a flash of long, dark hair flowing in the light breeze and a trail of her cotton candy scent tantalizing his desire. His body was hard in all of the wrong places, and his brain was as good as a bowl of mush.

Ben stood there for an excruciating moment. What the hell just happened?

****

Cara stepped into her room, slammed the door, bolted the lock, and slid the chain home.

It took her a good minute to recover. Her eardrums were no longer throbbing and her nipples stopped aching. She'd just met Adonis wearing a hat, plaid shirt, and worn jeans.

She popped the top off of the Coke bottle, the lid dropping to the floor and rolling somewhere. She brought the drink to her lips and sucked it down until her eyeballs burned. Lowering the bottle, she breathed heavily and blinked the stinging from her lids. A drop of pop had escaped her lips and she wiped the wetness with the back of her hand.

"Damn! Double damn!" She knew it was unladylike to swear, but she didn't much care. The tingling between her legs was an awakening she had no clue could exist on her body. And the cause was a cowboy—a stranger—she'd never meet again.

She was disappointed that she didn't get a better look at his face. His hat sat low on his brow, shading everything but that remarkable grin that had turned up a perfectly shaped set of lips and a prominent jaw covered with a dark layer of beard growth.

He'd saved her life!

She was dramatizing the truth a bit, she was certain. Considering the drunk on the sidewalk would have been reduced to a pile of bones on the ground with a slight push from her. She'd been caught off guard by the gagging smell of whiskey, a stench embedded in her nose from the years of drinking she'd tolerated from James.

She was grateful that a stranger helped her. A beautiful cowboy who she hoped visited her dreams, scaring away the nightmares, liked he'd done the drunk. She scoffed at her romantic notions and shook her head. When would she see that she had to put her emotions aside, and used her head?

Chapter Three

Cara rechecked her outfit three times in the bathroom mirror before she forced herself not to fuss anymore. She'd chosen a simple tunic style dress that hid her curves. Her nerves were a wreck and the eggs she'd eaten that morning were threatening to find their way back up.

She'd received a call on her cell from someone at Nirvana earlier that morning, letting her know that she would be picked up at eleven A.M.. She'd had no clue that being picked up was part of the package, but it did take some of the strain off her shoulders not having transportation to worry about.

If only the butterflies would stop tickling her insides.

The knock came on the door and she anxiously scanned the room to make sure she'd gotten everything. She held the doorknob, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

A poster was held high, and it read, "Welcome Cara!" She smiled at the sweet touch. The board dropped and a tall, slender cowboy with deep dimples and twinkling eyes greeted her. His brown cowboy hat was pushed back high on his forehead and he was smiling from ear to ear.

"And you must be Cara," he said in a deep twang.

Swallowing against the constriction in her throat, she moistened her lips. She had half the mind to turn and run—fast, but her feet wouldn't move. Here it goes. "Yes, I'm Cara."

"Well, howdy, ma'am." He tipped his hat and winked. "I'm Dade. I'm here to take you to Nirvana."

Cara showed him her bag and as he gathered it to take it outside, she allowed herself a moment to stare. The sparkling eyes and dimples didn't do him any harm, but she wondered how old he was. Early twenties? But she doubted no older than twenty-five. Her misbehaving mind wandered to the cowboy from last night. Tall, dark, and mysterious. She'd gotten her wish and had a toe-curling dream about him that had her muscles still weak through breakfast. But today was a new day and she needed to put Mr. Mysterious from her thoughts and concentrate on her future.

"Is that all, ma'am?"

"Just this one, but I can get it." She motioned to the small case she was holding in a tight grip.

"That's my job. Let me take that." He reached for the piece of luggage.

"Oh, that's okay. I've got—" But he already had it in his hand. "Thank you." There was a slight quiver to her voice and she hoped he didn't hear it. The last thing she needed was to bomb this right out of the gate. This was her chance to be brave. No one knew of her past, no one to judge her. She was on vacation and that meant she needed to relax.

"No thank you needed. I wasn't given these muscles just for looks." His smile seemed to grow by inches. She liked him and could guess that he was a hit with the ladies. What was funny, he made her want to smile too. "Now right this way." He gestured for her to lead.

Cara wouldn't deny that she was flattered by his sweet character, but like he said, it was his job. She'd never had a man—not even James—offer to take her bags to help her.

Dade's kindness didn't end there.

He opened the passenger car door for her and, once she was settled into the leather seat of the SUV, she scanned the luxurious interior. "Nice ride," she said when he slid behind the steering wheel.

"Yeah. This beauty is top of the line." He smoothed his hand along the crème colored dashboard. "Wish she was mine." He wagged his thick brows.

He started the engine and pulled away from the hotel. She placed her hands in her lap and clasped them tightly to hide the shaking. She hadn't been this close to a man in so long that she felt like a teenager on her first date.

"No reason to be nervous, ma'am. No one at the ranch will bite you, unless you ask, of course." He chuckled.

She snuck a peek at his profile. He was kidding—he had to be kidding. Biting? Her heart beat heavily and her palms turned sweaty. "I don't think I'll ask for a bite."

"You might. Never say never." He turned the car onto the highway and the engine purred as it picked up speed.

"No, I'm sure—" She cleared her throat. "—uhh—that's not what happens there, right?" She wasn't sure how else to phrase it.

He shot her a glance across the seat. "No. Women have visited before hoping that was part of the package, you know what I mean, but nope. There's something about a cowboy that gets all of the women flustered. Must be the hat." He knuckled the brim of his Stetson.

Her skin tingled in embarrassment. What had she gotten herself into? She wondered if all of the cowboys at Nirvana looked like Dade. No wonder women flocked there, willing to pay. Just looking was visual therapy. Her curiosity got the best of her. "How old are you, Dade? I hope that's okay to ask."

"Sure. I'm twenty-three. Next month's my birthday and I'm hoping Chase will give me the go-ahead and make me a ranch hand."

"Oh, so you're not a hand but a...?"

"Helper. I do whatever the boss tells me to do."

"And this Chase, he's the boss?"

"More than a boss, ma'am. He's the owner."

She nodded. "Right. Are there a lot of cowboys at Nirvana?"

"Enough to go around." He concentrated on the road ahead. "You feeling better now?"

"I am. Can you, well, will you tell me about the ranch?"

He chuckled. "One word describes it all. Paradise."

"Paradise. I read that in the brochure." Many ideas popped into her head. She wondered if it were a paradise as in men walking around naked serving drinks with umbrellas.

"The brochure doesn't even begin to define Nirvana. There's lots of peace and adventure. We're miles away from neighbors and shopping." He pushed a button and the AC kicked on, instantly cooling her skin. "That's what folks want."

"I thought I read on the website that there's a small shop on grounds."

"There is, for toiletries and personals. But you won't find a Starbucks or Macy's at Nirvana. It'd defeat the purpose of vacationing."

Her brain cells were on fire. From what she read about the ranch, she would be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by country. She didn't mind. She wasn't a café latte kind of girl anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a narrow, gravel road blocked off by a tall, black iron fence. Dade pushed a button on a remote and the gate opened. No signs announced where they were except for one that read in bold, red letters, "No trespassing. Private property. Violators will be prosecuted."

The brochure had assured privacy as an utmost priority on the ranch and only individuals who met all qualifications would be invited as a guest. When she'd received the acceptance letter in the mail, she'd been at a cross between pure shock and eagerness.

Cara had thought about the adventure over and over, and when she couldn't think of one good reason not to go, she mentally listed a dozen why she should take the plunge. The biggest motivation was the chance to go against everything she'd ever been, or ever thought she was. She'd never been a huge risk taker—or even a small one.

"Here we are, ma'am."

She lifted her chin and stared across lush green fields scattered with purple wildflowers. "Beautiful." Further ahead, horses—pretty horses with long manes—ran along the white fence that surrounded the pasture. In the distance she could see the mountain range that reached so high that the tips touched the low clouds.

The lane came to a Y and Dade followed the road to the left. "The other way takes you to staff quarters. There's some space between the two sides, and between guests lodgings, for privacy." The road turned narrow and bumpy. Cara held on so she wouldn't be thrown around in the seat.

"That's not the first I've heard of privacy. It must be very important here."

He shrugged. "Guests come here to get away from everything and everyone. Have you ever fished?"

"No."

"You should take it up. There's a pond on the North side of the ranch. Nothing relieves stress like fishing. Nirvana is all about destressing. Have you tried essential oils?"

"No, I haven't."

"You have a variety in your lodge. Try 'em out. I once knew a woman who gave me a massage using some oil that smelled like cinnamon. Best rub down ever." He brought his eyes to her. "Sorry, ma'am. I get to rambling sometimes."

She nodded and turned her cheek to hide her smile.

They hit a rut and Cara's head pecked the glass.

"Are you okay," he asked, his eyes wide.

"I'm fine." She chuckled.

"We don't drive up this way often. We use golf carts, four wheelers, and horses."

"Wow, the brochure wasn't kidding when it said secluded lodging."

"Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet. Like I said, the brochure only touches the basics of what we offer." He pulled the SUV along the edge of the grass. "We're here. Nirvana's finest—Make a Wish Treehouse."

"Did you say treehouse?" Cara scooted forward so she could look around Dade's shoulders. Her mouth fell open and a soft whimper escaped her lips. "That's a treehouse." She pointed at the tiny house situated in a nest of trees.

He tapped the steering wheel. "Yes, that's one of the gifts here at Nirvana. The boss had a dream and treehouses were a part of it. You're not afraid of heights are you?"

"No...well, I don't know. I've never been in a treehouse."

"Then you're lucky it's only built twenty feet off the ground. To have indoor plumbing, we couldn't put the houses too high."

"That's amazing," she whispered. She'd never seen anything more lovely and inviting. When Dade opened her door, she slid out, still staring at the small abode. Her foot slipped on the grass and Dade caught her by the elbow.

"Watch your step, ma'am."

"I believe I made the wrong shoe choice." She guessed sandals and nature didn't mix well.

"It won't be as slippery once you're on the walkway."

"I think I'm in love with this place already."

"We aren't called Nirvana for the fun of it—well, I guess we are."

The Wish Treehouse was tucked a little piece from the lane and they followed a beaten path to a set of stairs leading to the front door. Cara climbed the wooden stairs and thankfully Dade was utilizing his muscles again for more than looks and carried her bags. He left them just inside the doorway.

"The treehouse is stocked with snacks, food, and drinks. All to your liking, or at least what you wrote on the questionnaire," he said. "If you want something special, you can call the kitchen and Motley will be glad to mix you up whatever you like. I'll warn you though, he doesn't believe in anything fried."

"Okay, great. So, no fast food, huh?" Cooking for one was never fun, so when she wasn't in the mood for a can of soup or a bowl of cereal, she drove through the nearest drive-thru. She knew it wasn't healthy for her, but neither was being alone. Sometimes one played the hand they were dealt.

"No, not out here, ma'am." He dipped his hat. "Here's your key card, lovely lady, and this is where I leave you to begin your journey." He winked and started down the steps, but turned back. "Oh, I don't want to forget. There's a list of numbers next to the wall phone. Dial the one labeled 'scheduling' and answer the questions the operator asks."

"What questions?"

"Easy ones. You tell them what you want to experience here—massages, lessons, hiking—and they'll make a schedule for you for your entire stay. Makes it easier for the hands to get the guests where they need to be with no one getting angry. By the way, the hands here are also the transporters, and teach the lessons. See ya', ma'am." He walked down the stairs.

"Wait. What do I do now?" she called after him.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Relax tonight. Tomorrow, Ben will introduce you to the rest of Nirvana."

"Ben? Who is Ben?" But Dade was already climbing into the SUV.

Cara waited until Dade pulled away before she walked through the front door. Excitement washed over her as she looked around the beautiful treetop utopia.

This wasn't the treehouses she remembered as a kid. This was built for an adult. One who enjoyed romance and had a flair for living on the wild side...so unlike her. She had a feeling that was the point of this. Bringing people out of their bubble... their safety net. She had a mixture of emotions—delight, inquisitiveness, coziness, and calm. She was alive for the first time in too long. As she stepped to the middle of the room she caught her reflection in the wall mirror. She was smiling and there was color to her cheeks. The country air was doing her some good already.

Turning on her heel, she bumped into the end of the bed. It took up nearly all of the space, but it was the focal point. The luxurious, red satin comforter draped across the bed like paint. The decorative pillows of all different sizes and colors were piled high.

She crawled into the bed and pushed her way through the mountain of pillows, some falling over the side. Leaning against the rustic headboard made of an old barn door, she stared out of the large picture window that had a magnificent view of the trees. She inhaled deeply and relaxed.

The house was romantic and charming, but seemed almost out of place for Cara. This would be a prime location for lovers, newlyweds, but not her, and yet... she wanted to crawl deep into the covers, naked, and have sinfully naughty dreams.

When the sun disappeared behind the gray clouds and the shadows feathered across the interior walls, Cara dragged herself from the satin haven. She searched for a light switch, finding it by the door. She flipped it on and the crystal chandelier above the bed lit up. She loved the difference from the elegance of the fine crystal to rustic furnishings.

The kitchen consisted of a small counter, microwave, stove, and a fridge. The cabinet was stocked with food, just as Dade had promised. Fresh fruit, cans of soup, pasta, and lots more. On the wall hung a phone with numbers for the kitchen, administrative office and life skills coach. She'd almost forgotten Dade's directions. She picked up the receiver and dialed the extension next to scheduling. She was put on hold and Mozart played on a recording. Humming along, she scanned the treehouse again.

She smiled. Everything was at her fingertips. What more could one person need?

After answering a few quick and painless questions, she hung up the phone and stepped out onto the small balcony in back. Just below she spotted an outdoor shower.

Outdoor shower?

Apprehension crawled down her spine. Shower in the open? That was a huge step out of her comfort zone.

Relax, Cara. Who would see? She was here alone—no neighbors.

Going inside, she opened her suitcases. After unpacking, she planned to enjoy the peace and quiet, which was unlike the loud silence at home.

Grabbing her book, she crawled into bed and fluffed the pillows to lean back on. She sighed in contentment. "This is the life."

It'd been a long time since she'd actually relaxed. She already felt different in an unexplainable way. The change was doing her a world of good and she had a feeling that was only the beginning.

****

Ben zipped his jeans and headed across the room to the coffee maker, pouring himself a large mug. Once he slurped down half of the dark roast, he checked the clock on the wall. Eleven-fifteen. Cara should be with Dade by now.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sighed. After getting home last night from his brief encounter with Cara, he'd crawled into bed but didn't sleep a wink. He'd almost called Dade when the sun came up to tell him that he would go and get Cara, but he didn't want to take the risk that she'd see him and change her mind. She could run away, just as she did last night. He wasn't used to scaring women away, and it was quite the opposite of how most women flocked to him. He'd take it personally if he didn't have a gut feeling that she treated all men like they were the walking plague.

He knew there came a point he needed to recognize that he was attracted to a woman he didn't even know—well, only a little. This was against his personal rules, but he couldn't help himself. He was drawn to her. Or was it the thought of her that he liked. He couldn't really be attracted to someone he had never met, not formally, could he?

Finishing off his coffee, he rinsed out his cup and laid it in the dish rack.

He had his work cut out for him.

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, shaved, and finger combed his too long hair. He was in need for a cut when he got a chance. Pulling on a blue flannel shirt that he grabbed from the chair in the corner, he slipped into his worn boots and tugged on his hat, heading out the door, whistling. The sky promised rain.

Usually he'd walk over to the staff kitchen to grab some grub, but this morning he headed straight to the barn. Hard work would ease some strain. He was anxious for Cara to get to Nirvana, and that was against his normal calm nature. This woman had him in knots.

He felt sorry for her, nothing more, and that's why he'd told the other fellas to stay clear of her. Ben thought she needed a friend. The men respected each other and without question, they agreed.

Ben didn't know her story, but he knew she had one. No one acted timid unless they'd been given a reason. Hell, maybe he was wrong in thinking her innocent and incapable of taking care of herself, but she'd struck his protective side and, even if he wasn't sure why, he knew he had to find out.

Once inside the barn, he removed his hat and his shirt and went to work.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed but he'd stacked the last bale of hay and pulled off his gloves just as he heard footsteps outside. He turned as Dade appeared through the barn door. "Back already?" Ben said sarcastically.

"Yup, already. I had other transports to do, too" Dade chuckled as he dropped down on a nearby bale and stretched his legs. "She's tucked in tight. You weren't kidding. She's as timid as they come, but sure pretty. Why are you taking the extra time for her?"

Ben grabbed a cold water from the cooler and threw it to Dade, then opened another for himself. "Nothing special." He drank half in one gulp. Since last night—really since he saw her picture—her eyes had haunted him. The manual labor hadn't helped much.

"Well, good luck, my friend," Dade said.

Dropping his gloves onto the workbench, Ben pulled his shirt from the hook and tugged it on. "It's not about luck, pal. It's about understanding." He started for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

By the time Ben reached his cabin, his jeans grew uncomfortably tight. He couldn't get his mind off Cara. Knowing she was at Nirvana made him anxious to see her. He'd never been this excited before. Was this a sign that he wasn't ready to leave the ranch?

He could go see her now, but the rules were that they let the heartbreaks have a night of getting accustomed to their lodging. The heartbreaks came for peace and quiet, to learn to love nature, and they'd get that in their treehouses.

He wondered what she thought of the treehouse. No one ever complained about the beautiful lodgings, at least that he knew of.

Grabbing a meal from the freezer, he removed it from the box, vented the plastic cover and stuck it in the microwave. He'd settle for a nuked meal instead of going to the kitchen for something to eat where he'd certainly run into staff. He could see them now, sitting around the table chatting and joking about the new heartbreaks. He just wasn't in the mood.

Finding a leftover biscuit, he slathered it with butter and shoved it into his mouth just as the timer beeped. He grabbed his heated lasagna, headed into the main area, and sat on the edge of the bed. He eyed the steaming pasta and lost his appetite. He discarded it on the nightstand along with yesterday's cup that had crusted milk inside.

He wasn't even in the mood to eat.

He should clean his cabin and decided he'd do that task later. No one would see his mess anyway.

There was something else that had him in loops. He itched to see Cara.

And the enthusiasm hardened parts of his body.

His cock became painfully stiff in his jeans and the throbbing became unbearable. If this is how he started the two-week session, he was in big trouble.

Removing his clothes, his erection stood straight, a testimony to his dire need. He slid into bed and wrapped his callused fingers around his rod while images of pale eyes bounced behind his lids. This wasn't the pleasure he was craving, but a man had to do what he had to do to get by.

Chapter Four

Cara fluttered her eyes open. The sun filtered through the large window and enveloped her in its warmth. She lazily stretched and sighed. The feel of the satin sheets against her naked skin was heavenly. She hadn't slept this good in ever.

She laid there for a while, enjoying the scenery of two birds sitting on a limb just outside the window, until she heard a thudding noise. She sat up and listened closer.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound grew louder.

Oh hell! She realized someone was coming up the stairs and she jumped out of bed, dragged the sheet around her body just as a shadow passed the window. Less than a second later the knock came on the door. She took one small step to the right, into the shadows. Through the window she could see black hat and a broad back, remembering Dade telling her that a man, Ben, would be here today.

Her heart kicked up a beat and she held her breath. The only place she had to go for privacy was the bathroom, and to get there she'd have to pass the door. He'd see her, wearing a sheet—naked and wearing a sheet. She cringed. Oh why had she slept so late? What could she do? Maybe she should pretend she was still sleeping?

"Cara?" The voice was deep, muffled through the door.

Three long seconds later, she knew what she had to do. She had no other choice. With a quick finger combing, she went to the door and opened it a few inches.

Ah...sweet Lord.

A cowboy stood on her step, his back facing her, and what a nice back.

Gorgeous had come knocking.

She inhaled deeply and sucked up soap and leather. Gorgeous smelled good too.

The blue flannel stretched forever across wide shoulders, and she followed the brawny masculine line to lean hips, wide belt and...oh dear, all that is holy...the jeans fit like a worn glove on his tight buns. So this was what a real cowboy looked like?

Her breathing quickened to a pant while her heart played a rhythm of pleasure. She'd been right... the treehouse was only the tip of the iceberg. Whatever she'd done in life to be rewarded with hot and sexy waking her up, she was grateful.

She'd even forgotten for a moment that she was standing with only a sheet wrapped around her torso—her trembling torso.

He turned and she held her breath. Oh yes, she most definitely was in paradise. The proof was wearing a cowboy hat and worn boots. Their eyes met and her knees weakened. What color were they? Green—blue maybe? And his facial features were delectable, as if he were molded with clay by an artist's hand, then brought to life. A smile curved his beautiful lips and dizziness washed over her.

She knew that smile. She'd had sweet dreams of those lips.

But it couldn't be possible.

He couldn't be the hero that came along and saved her at the vending machine.

"Are you the man from the hotel parking lot?" She forced the words through quivering lips.

"Yes, ma'am." He dipped his hat.

"Am I dreaming?" She didn't realize she'd said the words aloud until he answered.

"Call it whatever makes you happy. I'm Ben." His smile widened to a magical width.

She held onto the doorknob until her knuckles popped and she eased her grip. Her knees wobbled and she stilled her body by leaning into the door. She didn't think she'd ever see him again, except in her dreams. Clearing her throat, she hoped her voice worked. "I'm—I'm Cara."

"Yes, I know who you are." He didn't have the deep twang like Dade, but there was a slight accent that teased her ears. He slipped a steady gaze down the sheet and her nipples hardened. Wow...how did he do that?

"Did you know who I was at the hotel? Were you watching me?" Heat spread from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

"No, I wasn't watching you. It was mere chance that I spotted you across the parking lot at the very moment you needed me."

Her cheeks stung and she guessed she blushed ten shades of red. She clasped the sheet tighter and took a step back, opening the door a little more. She concentrated on his eyebrows because all she wanted to do was gawk at tanned, sexy flesh. What had come over her? This man had come over her, that's what. Then her gaze dipped to his kissable mouth. Wow...just wow. "I...I wasn't expecting anyone. I mean, I was expecting you, not you, but Dade told me you would be here. I overslept. I'm sorry."

"No apology. Most guests tend to sleep late here. Your first visit with Sofie is soon, then a riding lesson if you'd like. There's fishing, too, since you said you wanted to learn, or rather what you told the operator. You probably should eat breakfast, keep up your energy."

"I don't eat breakfast. And who is Sofie?" More strangers. Her stomach did a loop.

"Whatever your pleasure, Cara. Sofie is Nirvana's life skills coach. Part of the package." He winked. "We like to give every guest what she needs".

Sparks of awareness tackled her veins. She was no longer dizzy but there was a new tight feeling between her legs. "What I need?" She pushed the words through trembling lips.

His smile warmed her bones. "That's right, ma'am."

Here he was, confessing that he would oblige her every need. This was paradise at its finest, although she knew he was talking platonic, not sexual. She supposed most women would know what to say or do at a time like this, but her tongue was heavy and she was on the brink of shaming herself by passing out at his feet. Why was she a danger to herself at times? "Thank you," she mumbled. She couldn't manage anything else. She had to wonder if they had lessons for socialization skills because she needed them.

"Are your accommodations to your liking?" He leaned against the porch railing, crossing his ankles and hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. "This is the best lodging at Nirvana."

"Very much. Not many people can say they've slept in a treehouse. And the bed, it was like sleeping on a cloud. I feel refreshed, and, oh, I didn't have one nightmare."

"The rest of your stay should be spent with no worries, and certainly no bad dreams. Sit back, relax, and let us take care of everything. I'll wait out here while you spruce up, then we'll get the day started." His eyes twinkled.

Her skin felt like it was on fire. "Where...?" She'd forgotten every thought in her brain.

"Sofie."

"Oh yeah, that's right." She was losing her concentration. "How long before I have to be there?"

"Fifteen minutes." He watched her as if he found her humorous.

"Okay. I'll be out...you wait there...I mean, you can come in...but wait, no..." She wasn't ready to have a stranger in her room. And yet, he wasn't a stranger. At least he didn't feel like one.

"I'll stay here and wait, ma'am." He gave her a quick nod.

Certain she was still red-faced, she closed the door and practically ran across the small room, jerked open the drawer, and rummaged for something to wear. She tossed her clothing to and fro, feeling more anxious as she got to the bottom with nothing to show for her effort. Why hadn't she brought something nice, not just baggy clothes? For the first time in a very long time she wanted to wear something different. Pretty, which didn't even begin to describe the clothes she'd packed. If only she'd known she'd run into Mr. Mysterious, she would have bought a new wardrobe.

Why did she want to impress him? She had no reason.

She had a big reason—she hadn't felt this giddy in years.

Finally settling for a pair of jeans, her newest pair, and a flowered shirt, she wanted to take a quick shower but she didn't have the time or the comfort level yet to shower in the open, especially with Cowboy standing on the front porch. Would he peek at her? Goosebumps popped out on her flesh.

Who was she kidding? A man like Ben probably had every woman he wanted in a hundred-mile radius. As good looking as he was, what would he want with her? She was the dictionary definition of homely, and she felt this even more when she looked in the small mirror hanging on the wall.

She brushed her hair. Without washing the long, thick strands, it wanted to frizz up on her, so she went to plan B, pulling it up into a bun. That'd work. Digging into her almost empty makeup bag, she used the mascara and tinted lip-gloss.

Ten minutes later, she was outside. "I'm ready." She nervously ran her hands down her thighs.

He stared at her and her stomach quivered. Had she chosen the wrong outfit?

"Do you have a pair of boots?" he asked.

She shook her head, sending tendrils of hair falling around her cheeks. She pushed them behind her ear. "No. Do I need boots?"

"No worries. We'll get you set up later. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." She followed him down the stairs and as they headed along on the small, pebbled path, the strong sun rays beat down on her exposed skin. She was grateful she'd slathered on sunscreen because her skin would burn before it tanned. "Aren't you hot in long-sleeves?"

"I'm used to the sun and temps. You should have on long-sleeves. I bet your pale skin burns." He slipped a finger down her arm and she jerked. He quickly pulled away. He'd caught her off guard by the heat of his touch.

They continued walking across the small patch of grass and she stopped dead in her tracks. Hitched to a tree was a very big—very intimidating—black horse. "Oh, so I get a riding lesson now?"

He unhitched the reins, concern etching lines around his eyes. "You okay?"

"That's a horse." She was fully aware that the seesawing of her voice matched the shaking inside of her body.

"It's not a dog." He chuckled.

"I-I've never ridden. Maybe I should be a little embarrassed in admitting that, considering I'm here on a ranch where I'm sure riding happens on a daily basis—" His fingers came up and lightly touched her cheek. A whimper rose from her throat as she froze in her flip-flops.

"That darn piece of hair. And don't feel embarrassed. That's why we teach lessons."

"I was babbling. I'm sorry." She wanted the ground to open and eat her alive.

"You apologize too much. There's nothing to be sorry for."

His soft voice made her chest heavy. She was in a habit of apologizing...and rambling. She was making a fool of herself.

****

Ben couldn't help but admire the woman standing before him. She made him smile. She wasn't a classical beauty, and it was obvious she didn't want to draw any attention by any means, but there was something very stimulating about her modesty. She was pretty—very pretty. When she'd opened the door, her hair was wild around her pale cheeks, her eyes bright, her lips full, pink and very kissable. He'd almost went against every rule in his invisible book and dragged her body against his and kissed the hell out of her. He'd almost been done in like a fish on a hook seeing her wrapped in the sheet. A woman never looked sexier than when wearing satin.

He guessed she was five foot two, and petite and slender, but not matchstick thin. Even the loose fitting clothes she wore didn't hide the fact that she had curves in all of the right places. The V-neck shirt opened just enough to give him a sneak peek of deep cleavage. She had incredible, long hair that was pulled up now. His fingers ached to free the mass from the clip. But what intrigued him the most was her intoxicating beautiful blue eyes that shone like diamonds in the morning sun.

Their gazes met and she gave him a hesitant smile. She flushed from cheeks to sleek neck. He let his gaze lower over her loose top and jeans, but quickly back up to a safer area. Her lashes fanned across the tops of her pale cheeks and he noticed the faint spattering of freckles. With her light skin he wasn't surprised. Her eyes were sweet and her face was delicate. And those lips! Wow, they were made especially for a kiss—his kiss.

Oh, shit! He couldn't allow his mind to travel down the path of no return. He was here to guide her, not screw her.

"She seems gentle," Cara said.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Nellie is calm." He patted the horse's neck. "And I'll lead you. But if you'd rather walk—"

"No, that's okay." She lifted her chin in a bravery that he'd bargain didn't match what she was feeling inside. He liked seeing that she had a spunky side under that thick layer of shyness.

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure." Her bottom lip slightly trembled.

"Okay then. Let's get you in the saddle." He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist—tingles shot upward through his hands and into his arms—and he easily lifted her onto the horse. She stared down at him. "Okay, there's that look again."

"A look?" She moistened her lips and his cock twitched. This could be a problem.

"The one that makes me wonder if you're scared of me." He shifted, wanting to ease the restraint behind his zipper.

"I'm not scared."

"Good, because you have no reason to be scared. I'd protect you with my life." The quick exhale of her breath made him grasp what he'd said. He'd only breathed those words to one other person in his entire life, and that person was gone. His jaw tightened and he knew he needed to change the subject, fast. "Let's put your feet in the stirrups." He adjusted them for her. In the open sandals, he could see that she had nice, soft feet. The color on her toenails matched the color of her lips. Realizing he was lingering a little too long, he pulled away. "Hold the reins and I'll lead you. Relax and enjoy the ride."

Seeing that she'd lost all color to her skin, he felt guilty. "Here, I have an idea." Without thinking of the consequences, he slid her foot out of one stirrup, placed his foot in the strap and pulled himself up behind her in the saddle. She immediately stiffened. "Is this okay?" He brought his nose close to her hair and breathed in her scent—cotton candy, just as he remembered.

"Y-Yes. I've just never imagined..."

"Most people don't," he whispered next to her ear. He reached for the reins. He had to have his arms around her and he didn't mind one bit. They fit perfectly in the saddle, her bottom nestled between his thighs. He hoped his body behaved. "Consider this your first riding lesson."

Leading the horse across the yard and to the gravel lane, her body relaxed some and she slowly leaned into him as if she was giving in. Oh, Lord! She smelled so damn good, and felt even better. He'd held sexier women—women who'd practically thrown themselves at him and he hadn't felt this much activity or desire. He was realizing just how needy he was for a woman's touch. His cock shot alive, making his jeans fit too tight. He wondered if she noticed his rise and it only made the ache turn to a throbbing. Thankfully, Sofie's office wasn't far because much longer and he'd do exactly what he wanted since he saw her picture. Kiss her panties right off her.

"This isn't too bad," she said. He caught the interest in her tone.

"One of the biggest pleasures in life is riding." Why did his words come off as an insinuation when he meant it clean? Probably because his mind was in the gutter.

"I'd like to learn to ride myself, before I leave. I really think this is soothing." She splayed her fingers across her jean-covered thighs. She had slender fingers and her nails were neat and short.

"We can arrange that." He liked her fresh take on riding. She was cute and he couldn't stop from smiling. He had a feeling she'd been in a bubble and this was the most fun she'd had in a long time.

"Where are all of the other visitors? I haven't seen one since I've arrived." She looked around.

"We have three hundred acres of land here. Each treehouse is spaced far enough apart for solitude. There's a good chance you'll pass some of the other women while you're here, but there usually isn't any face-to-face meetings. Depends on how active the guests are."

"I'm guessing there are only a few women here?" She turned her cheek and he got a good look at her profile. Her thick lashes were long and her nose was pert.

"Just five," he answered. She was the first in a long time that had this many questions. Most heartbreaks didn't care who else was staying at Nirvana just as long as they were taken care of. "Believe it or not, most visitors want the seclusion. They like feeling like this place is all theirs. They can be themselves without the public eye."

"Do each of the visitors have their own cowboy...I mean, helper? What do you call yourselves anyway?" The tip of her tongue came out and swept across the perfect bow of her bottom lip.

"Most days I'm a ranch hand, but if it makes you feel better, you can call me your cowboy." He chuckled. "The hands help the ladies get from point A to B. We also introduce them to new skills, depending on what they want to try their hand at. Most of us are pretty good at riding, crossbow and fishing. Things like cooking, massage and anything dealing with nails and toenails we have professionals on contract. They come out on certain days of the week."

"And the cowboy, Dade, he said he doesn't 'help' yet."

"Yes. He's a great kid, but still has a lot to learn. If you haven't noticed, he tends to talk a lot, which sometimes goes against the peace guests want," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm asking too many questions. My husband didn't like when I asked a lot of questions." Her shoulders tightened.

"Cara, no apologies, remember?"

"Okay, I'll remind myself."

"Are you still married? I don't see a ring."

She stiffened some. "No, I'm a widow."

He was real glad that she wasn't hitched, which had nothing to do with him. He was sorry for her loss, though. "Don't worry. Ask me anything and I'll always answer, if I can."

"I think I'm good for now. Thank you."

The remainder of the ride was quiet.

He should have been happy when they made it to Sofie's office, but he was filled with disappointment. He'd never take advantage of a situation but he liked her being close. He slid off the horse and then helped her down, taking his time before releasing her.

"Thank you, Ben."

"I didn't do much."

Most of the color had returned to her cheeks. "Whether you know it or not, it took a lot for me to get on that horse. A few days ago, I would have refused."

"Then I'm glad I could be of service." He reached out, touched her hand, and she jumped. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. The pain he'd seen in the picture returned and he hated pushing her too far. He backed off, grabbed Nellie's reins, tightening his fists on the leather. "Sofie will keep you for an hour and then I'll be back to get you."

She started to turn but stopped. "Are you the one, I mean, the only one who'll be with me—I mean, helping me...transporting me?"

He smiled. "Yes, I will, unless that's a problem." He hoped it wasn't because he couldn't stand the thought of one of the other cowboys getting to sit in a saddle with her.

"No, that's fine. In fact, I sort of like that idea." She turned and walked the narrow sidewalk.

He watched her, liking the gentle sway of her hips. Once she was inside, he got back into the saddle. He had sixty minutes to do something about his erection.

Chapter Five

Cara liked the life skills coach, Sofie. It was different, and a little awkward talking to someone she'd never met, but Sofie instantly made Cara feel welcome.

Sofie was a beautiful, petite woman who was pretty enough to be featured on the front cover of a magazine. Her makeup was in place and her black hair hung in a silken wave over her shoulders. She was friendly, yet professional. Cara wondered why Sofie wanted to be here, in the middle of nowhere, talking to women about rebuilding their lives? Cara knew first impressions could be wrong, but Sofie appeared sophisticated and there wasn't one spot of dirt anywhere on her. Not what Cara would expect of staff here on a ranch.

"You're the first visitor I've seen here at Nirvana." Sofie picked up a pad of paper, pen, and slid a pair of dark-framed glasses on. "So what are you thinking of your experience so far?" Sofie pushed her glasses further up her nose.

"I'm thrown for a loop. Treehouses, beautiful cowboys, horse rides. Makes me wonder what's in store for me from here on out." Cara sat back in the smooth brown leather chair and noticed the picture hanging on the wall—a cherub holding an arrow.

Sofie smiled, showing off a row of toothpaste-ad teeth against her olive complexion. "I looked over the questionnaire you sent in with your application. I believe it was very brave of you to answer all of the questions honestly. I know a lot of applicants don't."

"How do you know that I did?" Cara smoothed her hands down her jeans.

"I think I'm a pretty good judge of character and, yes I've only just met you, but I can tell you're honest. And I want to help you in rearranging your life, give you skills to make life easier. For me to do that, I'll need you to trust me. And I feel trust is something you very seldom do. You stated that you haven't slept well in years."

"I'm not sure it's fixable. I've tried with no luck," Cara admitted.

"You've already trusted me enough to disclose that bit of information."

Cara nodded. "I guess you're right. I want to be open-minded. I want to learn to trust again so that I can move forward."

"Then let's work toward that goal. There are relaxation techniques I can suggest."

"I think I've tried most, nothing has worked." Cara crossed a leg over the other and tapped her fingers on the armrest.

"But not in this environment. Not with nature's help, which is a natural stress reliever. I have to point out that I saw you and Ben riding together. You looked very comfortable. I think you trusted him enough to let him ride in the saddle with you."

"I don't know if that was trust, or for the simple reason that I couldn't get my tongue or brain to work to turn him down," Cara answered.

Sofie chuckled. "I can see that. The men here bring a whole new light to being a gentleman."

"I need to ask. Do you share what we talk about with the others?"

"Are you asking if I speak to Ben about what steps we talk about?" Sofie asked. Cara nodded. "No, I don't talk to the cowboys about what I learn."

Cara felt relief. She didn't want Ben, or anyone for that matter, to see her as the victim. She wanted to be the survivor. "That's good. For me to trust I have a feeling I'm going to have to tell you the reason why I don't."

"Sometimes sharing is the first step in relaxation."

"Okay."

"First, I'll pour you a cup of green tea. It's very healthy, especially with a bit of honey." Sofie got up and crossed the room to where an elegant china teapot sat beside two cups on a tray. She filled both and came back, handing Cara one.

Cara sipped at the hot brew. "Wow...delicious."

"Let's get started with some practical ideas for relaxing. And I'll give you some information on essential oils and massage therapy. How does that sound?"

"Terrific."

When the hour was over, Cara left the office and found Ben leaning against a golf cart, waiting. His Stetson was pulled low to shade his eyes from the sun, but his grin told a long story, and her heart wanted to turn the page of his book. It was dangerous to think this was anything more than Ben doing his job. Parts of her swayed like a ship sailing the ocean, uncertainty still at the forefront of her thoughts. But she liked how he was a gentleman, just as Sofie had pointed out.

"Where's Nellie?" She searched for the horse.

"Nellie is grazing the field. I have brought a new ride." He padded the side of the cart.

"How many rides do you have?" Once the words left her lips, she realized how they must have sounded. It didn't help that her gaze automatically slipped to the big silver belt buckle at his waist.

"Although I aim to please, I do I have my limitations." He motioned for her to take the passenger seat.

She climbed in and waited for him to take the driver's seat. "Where are we headed?"

"It's a surprise." He turned the key and the engine's soft purr came alive.

She'd never liked surprises, that is, until she met Ben.

As they headed out on the rocky lane, she admired how the sun's rays filtered through the trees. The fields were overgrown and spotted with wildflowers. She sat back and thought about her meeting with Sofie. Cara understood now what Deidre had meant when she said it would do Cara good to talk to someone with new ideas about learning to relax.

Sofie had many suggestions, some Cara wasn't sure she could follow, but she wanted to try.

It was high time she left boring, protected Cara behind and lived her life. She wouldn't know anyone at Nirvana, and once she left she wouldn't see them again. This was her time to enjoy herself. Flirt like single women do. Laugh. Play. Enjoy the view...

She looked across the small space at Ben's profile. It didn't get much better than this.

While sitting in the chair in Sofie's office, the thought of Ben hadn't left her mind. The way their bodies had touched in the saddle. His arms around her...his warmth. His hard—

"Here we are." Ben pulled over beside a field.

She cleared her throat. "Looks pretty."

"You haven't seen anything yet." He wiggled his brows.

"I don't think much can top what I've already witnessed."

He reached into the backseat and uncovered a basket. "You didn't eat breakfast, so I hope you're hungry for lunch."

"We're having a picnic?"

"That's the biggest smile I'd bet you had in a long time."

She slid from the cart and tugged her shirt down her hips. "There's something about the fresh air here that makes my mood brighter." And the company, yet she didn't say it aloud. Sofie suggested Cara should start saying what she wanted to, considering she was never allowed to in her marriage. Sofie said that holding things in could lead to stress and lack of sleep. Cara wasn't quite ready to be that aggressive.

"Okay. We have two choices. We can stay close or we can walk a little piece to a spectacular view. Only problem is, I can't take the cart through the field. Are you able to walk in those shoes?"

"I want to see the spectacular view," she said without hesitation.

"Will I need to carry you?" One thick brow lifted over curious eyes.

Was he teasing her? "I can walk." Having him carry her might just take her to the brink of insanity. Riding in the saddle with him had triggered areas of her body to come alive—places she didn't even know she had. And she could have sworn the hard bulge she'd felt in her back during their horse ride hadn't been the belt buckle. It couldn't be possible that he was turned on by simply being near her. Oops, she was already breaking Sofie's directions. Cara had to work on her self-esteem. No putting herself down.

That was easier said than done.

"Let's go then and feed you. We have to keep your strength up while here on the ranch."

Ben walked next to her across the field which seemed very unusual to Cara. James had always walked at least three paces ahead of her wherever they were. She had to keep in mind she couldn't judge all men and their actions by how James had treated her. He had been a poor example of a man with little regard to anyone's feelings but his own.

She would rise above all of the damage left behind from his storm. She was stronger than James and his memory.

Cara wasn't sure how far they'd walked, and she didn't care. She loved the outdoors and never realized how much until coming here. She'd gone camping a few times as a kid, and played outside a lot back when she was young, but the peaceful serenity she found here was calming. Birds chirped overhead. A gentle breeze cooled her skin and it was easy to fantasize that she and Ben were the only two people on this lovely ranch. For now, she reveled in the idea that he was with her.

"What's that noise? Is that water?" she asked.

"Just a bit further." They walked in silence a little while longer and then Ben stopped on the grassy knoll. "And here we are."

A waterfall streamed from a bed of rocks falling into the pool of clear water. "It's simply amazing, Ben. No words can describe the beauty."

"I say let's eat and then we can go down to the water's edge. Hungry?"

"Yes." While she stood staring at the exquisiteness of the scenery, Ben laid out a blanket. The smell of something delicious pulled her attention to the variety of food. "Actually, I'm ravenous." She sat down on the edge of the blanket and looked at the choices he'd brought. "It all looks yummy."

"Since I didn't know what you'd like, I brought veggies and hummus. Cheese and crackers. And dessert." He held up a plastic container and shook it lightly. "Who can resist a strawberry dipped in chocolate?"

He removed the plastic from the plate of cut up vegetables. A variety of cheese was in a clear container. "Ben, did you make all of this?"

"I'd love to say I did, but you'd soon find out that I'd lied. Our cook, Motley, is a master in the kitchen."

"Yes, Dade mentioned his name. And I read about him on Nirvana's website. It's amazing that the ranch has such a wonderful variety of people on staff."

"What can I say? This place is a bit of heaven tucked away, untouched by the evils of everyday living." She found Ben's words curious, but didn't ask. He popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. "When I told Motley to whip up something special for a pretty lady, this is what he gave me. He told me you should definitely try his hummus." He pointed to a plastic bowl.

She took a carrot stick and dipped it into the dish. Chewing, she smiled. "Oh my, that's the best hummus I've ever eaten."

"Never had it." Ben grabbed a carrot, dipped it and tossed it into his mouth. He shrugged. "Not bad. He'll like to know you're impressed." She tucked her legs up under her as he handed her a bottle of water. "I would have brought a bottle of wine, but I didn't want you to think I was seducing you." He winked.

"I wouldn't think that. Not in a million years." Her hair was falling down, and instead of tucking the strands of hair back into the bun for the umpteenth time, she removed the pins and let it flow freely.

He was staring again. After a good three seconds, he scrubbed his jaw and shifted. "Why wouldn't you think that I'd be seducing you?"

She shrugged. "Because, well, I'm me and you're you."

"That makes about as much sense as me dumping this food over my head would."

Laughing, she shook her head. She wasn't allowed to put herself down so it was best to change the subject. "Besides the work, why did you come here?" she asked.

His eyes shielded. "It seemed like a nice place to get away from the world." He uncapped his water and drank half.

"This certainly is the place to get away. I'd imagine it could get quite lonely around here during off time. The brochure said the ranch is closed to visitors during winter months."

He nodded. "Some can withstand the lonely months and some don't."

"And how long have you been here?"

"A few years."

"So is that a long or a short time?" She ate another dipped carrot.

"Not as long as many of the men," he said. "Enough about me. Why are you here?" He stretched out on the blanket.

"Probably for the same reason as the others." She wasn't sure how far down this path of conversation she wanted to go, but considering she wanted to know more about him, she'd have to answer questions of her own.

"I have a feeling that's not accurate."

"I wanted a change of scenery. I wanted to focus on myself, away from everyone who knows me."

"You're getting uncomfortable. You start playing with the hem of your shirt when you're put on the spot." She moistened her lips. "And yes, that too. You lick your lips."

She doubted many men were as observant. "My marriage wasn't what you'd call 'normal'. At home I'm surrounded by memories that aren't pleasant." She was saying too much.

"Any kids?"

"No, we never had any." She nibbled the corner of her lips.

"I can tell that saddens you." He removed his hat and laid it next to his hip.

She watched him. He had thick, dark hair that lightly curled at the neckline. She'd wondered about his hair, but instead of her curiosity being satisfied, she had a new craving. What would the strands feel like against her fingers? Satiny and smooth? And she wasn't sure why she didn't mind talking to him—at least some—about James. She just needed to hold her secret close. "My marriage had too many downs, so I'm only thankful we didn't have a family. My only pain is that I've wanted a child since I can remember. My husband, James, was killed in a car accident."

"I'm sorry..."

"Uh...remember, no apologies here at Nirvana."

"You're right, sweetheart."

"Now, now, let's not spoil our lunch with talk about the past. Motley would be very disappointed if we didn't finish his delicious hummus." Ben didn't force her to talk about it. Knowing how easy he was to communicate with, who knows what she would have told him and then he'd know way too much.

They finished eating in a comfortable silence, and packed up. Cara was helping fold the blanket when something moved in her pants. She froze and dropped the blanket. "Ben, something's in my pants."

He dropped the basket to the ground. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but...ouch! It stung me!" She froze. "Afraid if she moved an inch either direction whatever it was would sting her again. "I think it's a bee."

"What does the sting feel like?"

"Are you serious? A sting! Like someone shot a staple into my butt." Tears came to her eyes.

"Drop your pants, Cara." He was beside her in a flash.

The back of her thigh started to throb in pain but she continued to stare at him in confusion. "I'm not dropping my pants." She was mortified.

"If it's a wasp, it'll sting you again," he warned.

Fear washed over her, but not from the wasp. If she pulled down her pants he would see her panties, not the pretty, lace ones she wore once upon a time. Not the panties she knew men like Ben wanted to see on a woman. Cara's panties certainly wouldn't be found in a sexy lingerie shop. These were the comfy panties—as she liked to call them—she started wearing when James continually told her how fat she was getting. They didn't cover up enough for her liking.

Had she gone mad?

And why did she care one hoot what underwear she was wearing? If Ben didn't like them, then so what!

She smiled. Wow! She was getting the aggressive thing down. Deirdre would be proud.

"Do you need some help?" he asked.

She smacked his hand away. "No. I'll do it, but you have to turn your head."

"Cara, we don't have time for this. Is it not processing that you could be stung again? This is for emergency reasons only." The sincerity in his expression made it easier to do what she knew must be done.

Unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, he was polite enough to keep his gaze on her face as she slowly slid the denim down her hips and thighs, slipping them to her knees. All of James's cruel and degrading verbal assaults crawled through her mind as she stood there, partially naked. He had been the only man who'd seen her without clothes. And he'd never liked what he saw.

"Where did it sting you, sweetheart?" His gentle voice soothed her—a little.

"On my thigh, the back."

"Turn and let me take a look." His gaze slipped past her chest, her stomach and she crossed her, vulnerability easing through her. "If it's a bee sting you could still have the stinger in your skin, which could cause infection. We can't let that happen. You're in Nirvana and that bee just wanted a little taste of honey."

How did he do that? How did he make everything seem okay? How did he make her concerns seem ridiculous? In actuality, her fears were silly. She was being silly. James was gone and she was moving on. The internal scars were fading.

Reluctantly, she turned and closed her eyes. His breath rushed from his lungs and she jerked. Then he was quiet for the longest time. Was he silently gawking at her large butt or her huge thighs? She'd never claimed to be a supermodel and never wanted to be. She read in a magazine that men liked juicy butts, but what exactly did 'juicy' mean? Seconds turned into a minute. She started to turn back but he stopped her with a hand on her waist. "What is it, Ben?"

"It's definitely a bee sting, darlin'." His voice was smooth as silk.

"Then get it out fast. This is awkward standing here with my pants down around my ankles."

"Well, sweetheart, there's a problem."

She didn't like the sound of that. "A problem?" Before he could stop her again, she swiveled, eyeing him in question.

"I don't have tweezers to properly remove the stinger."

"We don't need tweezers. Use your nails." Her body was on fire.

He rubbed his chin. "I don't have nails and I have to be careful. I don't want to break off the stinger and more venom get into your body. The more venom, the longer the suffering. We had a guest a few years back that had a severe allergic reaction after being stung. She didn't even know she was hypersensitive to bees. I do know a way to get the stinger out. I've used the technique many times when I've been stung on my hands and arms." He shifted his worn boots.

"What are you talking about?" She just wanted to get the dang stinger out of her skin so she could get her pants back on and forget the humiliation.

"Can you trust me?"

He used the golden word. Trust was one word that was very close to evil in her vocabulary. He was asking something huge and he couldn't even begin to understand. She inhaled deeply and exhaled through tight lips. He wasn't James. He was a friend and had treated her with kindness and consideration. "We can go back to the treehouse. There must be a pair of tweezers there."

"Can you sit? How will we get you back? I can carry you on my back."

"No, He-Man." She sighed. "I can't let you do that, no matter how big your muscles are." Her temples pounded.

"Then trust me, okay? I promise it'll be over in seconds."

He looked at her with such sincerity that she didn't think it would be possible to do anything but what he asked. "Yes."

"Lie stomach down on the blanket." He spread it back out for her.

Every warning in her head blasted a refusal, but she ignored it as she sunk to her knees and lay down. She was fully aware of the fact that she was exposed in the daylight, every flaw open to his perusal. But what choice did she have? She couldn't sit, at least while the stinger was in her skin, and she certainly couldn't allow him to carry her all of the way, who knows how far, to the treehouse. Putting her jeans back on wasn't an option right now. The pain was horrible.

His touch came lightly and she knew he was being careful more for her sanity and not the bee sting.

But what happened next was neither good for her stability or her libido because her wall burst into a million pieces around her. She felt his warm breath against her backside, callused fingers on her flesh. She jerked a glance over her shoulder. "What are you doing?" Her voice squeaked.

"Relax." Then his mouth was on her skin, his teeth smoothed across her heated thigh and she forgot about the pain, or the fact that his head was inches away from a part of her that was tingling. She concentrated on the spiraling feelings looping around her veins like ivy. She was spellbound and a moan escaped her lips.

And just as quickly, that part of him that had awakened a whole bag of needful things within her was gone from her body. "All done," he said in a husky voice.

He moved and the only warmth left was that of the afternoon sun beating down on her goose bumped flesh. "How did you do that?" she mumbled as she rolled over.

He didn't move, staying above her, watching her with dark eyes. "It's a skill that comes with being outside a lot."

"What other skills can you brag about?" Did that question really come out of her mouth?

****

Ben was caught in a barbed wire of desire. If he pulled away, he'd regret it to the marrow of his bones. If he kissed her, something he'd wanted to do since before he even met her, he could be screwed, and not in a good way. Having her lips under his was too much of a temptation to deny. He lowered himself over her, within inches, supporting himself with his hands flat beside her. One corner of her mouth lifted and tugged at every cell within his body. He dipped his head and with a constraint he didn't know he had, he softly moved his lips along hers, darting his tongue over the full, kissable pout and licking the strawberry and chocolate taste from them. Her mouth opened in invitation and he rewarded her by slipping his tongue deep inside. She moaned and the sound vibrated his lips and every other part of his body that was intensely demanding.

Her arms came up and around his neck as a sweet whimper sounded in her throat. His heart beat so fast he thought it'd break a rib. He moved his head at an angle so that he could suckle her tongue, licking and swirling until she arched her back, her breasts pressing his chest. He wanted to lick and suck every part of her, every sweet, delicious, sexy inch of her body—continue where he'd left off on her thigh.

She dragged him closer, threading her fingers into his hair. He pinned her slender body underneath his larger one, holding his weight off her and leaning on his elbows. Her legs came up and wrapped around his hips, the apex of her thighs rubbing the bulge behind his zipper. He knew he couldn't go any further unless he knew this was what she wanted.

He lifted his head. She opened her eyes and their gazes connected. "Sweetheart, I think things are getting out of control. I think we should back off."

"You really want to back off?" There was deep question in her eyes.

"For God's sake, Cara. Can't you tell I'm going crazy in need?"

"Then please, Ben. I've never known this. Please don't let it stop, not yet." Her sultry words broke every boundary he'd ever mastered.

He toed off each boot, tossing them to the side. Her fingers were already on his belt buckle, pulling and tugging at the metal like a desperate need was guiding her. "Let me help, darlin'." In a matter of seconds he had the belt undone, his jeans discarded. His erection popped through the opening of his boxers, searching for release—for home. Sliding the cotton off, his cock bounced across his stomach.

He needed to take things as slow as possible. He wanted to please her, make her feel good. Prove to her that she was a desirable woman who should be made love to often.

He edged his mouth to her jawline, kissing the delicate, smooth skin. He followed the heated path to her neck and licked, tasting her. Gliding his hand to her bare thigh, he caressed her, slowly moving his fingers higher to the elastic of her panties. He smoothed the tips of his fingers along the silken band and eased his hand around to her firm, luscious bottom, massaging the rounded curve.

"You're so soft and smell so freakin' good." He planted butterfly kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids...until covering her lips again, tenderly. He wanted to cherish every second of her, to drink her in like a fine, aged wine. He knew she was timid, but he didn't see that now. He wouldn't push her faster than she was willing to go. He wanted her writhing under him, scraping his back with her nails and calling his name in fervid need.

Ben trembled in longing that he harnessed with only a sliver of control. Patience was important—he reminded himself of this over and over. His cock swelled to painful proportions and pressed against the apex of her thighs. How could something so forbidden feel so right? He was breaking the rules, knowing this was against his personal boundaries, but he couldn't stop himself. Hell, he didn't want to stop even if it meant rewriting some of his damned rules. Cara was an aphrodisiac he couldn't get enough of. He wanted to soak her up, touch every fine morsel. He was careless to the cost of allowing himself to taste the forbidden.

The kiss continued and he was enraged with a fire he'd never known, scorching his flesh. They were both deep into the moment, hot and desirable. She was giving him her all and he loved it, and he needed to touch more of her. She tugged his shirt open, snapping buttons. He could feel the dewy heat spreading from her inner thighs and his fingers found the moist mound. He rubbed his fingers over the slit through the cotton, finding her nub and flicking the pad of his finger over the tight flesh.

Her panties became an intrusion and he tugged at the material, hearing a seam rip, dragging them lower...and then he felt the change in her. She stiffened. He stopped and looked down at her. That look, the fearful one returned and kicked him in the gut. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I-I don't know." Her voice was close to a whimper.

"I would never hurt you."

And then the dam broke. She pushed at his chest with her fists, pounding him, and he quickly pulled back. He leaned to the far edge of the blanket, watching the softness leave every delicate line of her face. He struggled to breathe as he regained his senses, taking in the sudden change from hot to cold.

"Did I do something?" His words sounded alien to his own ears. "Of course I did. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no. It's not you. It's me." There was a catch to her voice that made every hair on his body stand erect. Although she still wore her shirt, she wrapped her arms around her chest as if to hide her breasts from his view. Her lips were still pink from his kisses and her skin a shade darker than her usual pale color.

What could he say? He didn't know what she needed to hear. He always knew the right words, but not this time. Now he was on the end of uncertainty.

"I'm not good at this." She motioned her hands through the air, encircling the blanket. "I'd only disappoint you."

He bit his lower lip to keep from grinning at her absurdity. "Are you kidding?"

"I wouldn't joke about this!" She stood up, grabbed her jeans and held them against her stomach.

"Forgive me, darlin'. I'm a little confused. Who the hell has made you think like this?"

Chapter Six

Cara reeled from the havoc her body had succumbed to in Ben's arms.

Once her jeans were in place, she turned to him. He still sat on the blanket and his erection continued to salute the sky. She steadied her focus on his face, not allowing her gaze to wander although she wanted to stare at his package. He was a beautiful man, nothing like James who couldn't get a hard on no matter how much fondling she did to coax him alive. And the look in Ben's eyes, a mixture of desire and yearning, only made her chest tighten more.

Never had she thought it possible to have a man look at her with such need, and to have an erection that proved he wanted her. As much as she wanted him, needed him, she couldn't follow through—couldn't allow herself to move so fast. To get closer to him, she needed to trust him.

"Well, Cara, talk to me," he pleaded.

"I really don't want to talk about it—now or ever," she said, her chin tilted and her arms folded over her waist.

He pushed his hand through his hair and stood up. He was a perfect specimen with a body of rippled muscle, smooth chest, and olive skin. His flat nipples were erect and a shade darker than his skin. She wondered how he was tanned everywhere. A man like Ben wouldn't go to a salon and lay in a bed to get color, not like James had. Her curiosity for the male body had grown by leaps and bounds since she'd met Ben, and yet she was scared to take that one step that would relieve the sexual tension that pricked painfully at the apex of her thighs.

There was a silver lining. Her intimate parts weren't broken. They still throbbed and her panties were moist. This was what desire felt like for a man.

He slipped into his jeans and adjusted his erection behind the zipper. She inwardly sighed in disappointment. Pulling on his boots, his shirt—and bye-bye gorgeous view. Guilt plagued her. "I don't want you to be angry with me."

He brought his chin up, his expression warm as compassion filled his pale eyes. "Angry? Sweetheart, why the hell would I be angry? I'm the one at fault here. I knew you weren't ready. I pushed you too fast. I didn't mean to let things get out of hand. That's not what this about. I swear. I let the boundary slip. It won't happen again."

The sorrow in his voice made tears come to Cara's eyes. "That's not true. I wanted it, I did. More than you could possibly know, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I can't explain why."

"Whatever has hurt you, Cara, I hope you can find a way to move past it. You are a beautiful, kind woman who deserves to be loved. You are sensual, with so much to give."

She attempted to control the tears welling in her eyes, but they rushed down her cheeks. "I'm cracked inside and that's so sad."

"Oh, baby." He rushed to her side, picked her up in his arms and nuzzled his face in her hair. "Shh. No reason to cry, darlin'. You're not cracked." He whispered in her ear. Her tears wetted his shirt.

"What do you call it then? A lost cause? Worse, a prude?"

"Cara, you're anything but a lost cause and certainly not a prude. You're hot as hell and a poison I can't seem to get out of my blood. Something in your past has brainwashed you, has a hold on you tighter than a harness." He sat down on the blanket, tugging her into his lap.

"I'm one of those fish that should be thrown back into the water because they're not even worth catching." She sniffed loudly. All of Sofie's rules went out the door in one fell swoop. She couldn't even manage following the goals she'd placed on herself.

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" she murmured against his shoulder.

"Put yourself down." She could hear the strong beats of his heart.

"I didn't know I did." She lifted her chin and looked up at him. "Yes, I guess I do know, but it's a habit. I'm supposed to be working on building self-confidence. I guess I'm rushing myself too fast and I'm failing all around."

"Well, it's definitely one that we'll have to break. I don't want to hear such bullshit come out of your mouth, sweetheart. It's time you realize just how wonderful you are." He lifted her hand and kissed her lightly on the fingers, licked each knuckle and kissed again.

"Years of therapy have proven that it's a long haul that I'm not sure I'm up for," she admitted.

"I think we must make the change for the better, not someone else change it for us. You have to want it bad and be determined to move forward. You should surround yourself with lots of positivity and eventually you'll start believing the truth again." He played with the heart ring on her third finger and she found it soothing.

She laid her free hand against his shoulder. "You're basically telling me I've wasted thousands of dollars going to therapy."

He chuckled. "No, that's not what I'm telling you. Therapy is good. But it's possible you chose to stay protected for so long because it's safer than stepping out of the bubble. Let's face it, whether you're ready to or not, you've already built enough trust that you came here, with people you don't know. That's a huge step, if you ask me."

She swallowed back another round of sobs. What he said made a lot of sense. Staying inside of her bubble meant no one could get close enough to hurt her. It was much safer to believe that no one wanted to be near her than allowing someone in. "This is the closest I've allowed myself to anyone in a very long time."

"Then Nirvana is working. You're changing, but it can't happen overnight."

"True, but you help me see the rainbow at the end of the tunnel. Before, it was only darkness."

He swallowed. "I do declare, you're starting to trust me." One corner of his mouth lifted. "What do you do for a living back home?"

"I own a little shop, carrying vintage clothing and jewelry. It was the only thing I had for myself for so long."

"That's great. I bet that took a lot of guts to open a business." He laid her hand into her lap, covering it with his own.

"If it wasn't for my shop, I think I'd move far away from Coal Springs."

"Every town needs a vintage shop. Don't allow geography to imprison you."

She played with a string on his collar. "How about you, Ben? Do you ever dream of finding something else?"

"I'm already living in paradise. Where else is there? Let's get out of this field before you get stung again and I'll be forced to suck another stinger from your body. I think a second time would be my undoing." He smiled and her heart warmed.

"Okay." She reluctantly climbed from his lap, standing, and feeling a little dizzy. Her knees were wobbly but he was quickly beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I guess I'm twirling from what we shared."

"Sweetheart, so am I—so am I."

Together they walked to the golf cart. He helped her in and they drove in silence to her treehouse. He told her he had chores to do and she watched him leave with a new sadness that made her chest ache. She'd miss him and hated seeing him go. A part of her wanted to ask if she could go with him, but she had a feeling he wanted to be alone.

She needed to be alone too, to think about what had almost happened between her and Ben.

A cool shower would help.

She grabbed a towel, a change of clothes and headed through the back door. She glanced from one end of the yard to the other, craning her neck to make sure she was alone. After being here for twenty-four hours she hadn't seen any other guests. She undressed and turned on the water. She stepped under the spray and sighed languorously. It didn't take long for her to forget she was showering in the open.

After standing under the stream until her muscles were mush, she shut off the knob, dried off and dressed.

Back upstairs, she rummaged through the pantry, found herself some soup and microwaved it. She took the bowl out to the patio and sat in the lounger, eating in silence. However, her mind was anything but quiet. Along came this man, Ben, who shed some light on her emotions. Made her think happiness was within reach.

She had been holding too close to her sorrow, not by choice, but because it was all she'd known for many years.

Everyone was telling her the same thing. Sofie told Cara the same as what she'd heard from Deirdre. It was time Cara learned her body again, what made it tick. What felt good—feel confident in her womanly curves and needs. Part of living each day was embracing good feelings.

She'd learned so much in one hour with Sofie. Common things that Cara just didn't think about before.

Finishing her soup, she washed the bowl, dried it and placed it back in the cabinet.

Removing her clothes, she climbed into the satin sheets. They felt heavenly against her body. She imagined Ben lying next to her, admiring her with his beautiful eyes that seemed to penetrate her brink of sanity.

She touched her inner thigh, slowly gliding the tips of her fingers along the line until she reached her creamy slit, still warm and moist from thoughts of Ben's touch. Smoothing her finger along the seam, she dipped her fingers inside of the dewy lips and found her most sensitive spot. She swirled the pad of her finger around the nub until it swelled and tingled. She envisioned Ben's fingers touching her, his callused hand rubbing her delicate curves. Her body grew wetter and the prickles spread upward into the pit of her stomach. She gyrated her hips to the heated pulses.

In all of the times she'd attempted to please herself, she'd never gotten this far and had stopped out of frustration. She continued in urgency to bring her body toward release.

Ben's clean scent remained in her memory and she breathed in. She liked his smell, his touch...she liked everything about him. He could have been inside of her now. His thick erection, big and hard. What would it feel like to have him slide into her body deep, connecting them? Her muscles quivered and spasms erupted, and she spread her legs wider, her lips separated, giving her fingers better access to the wet slit that ached for a man.

Slipping one finger into the ripples of tight muscle, she moaned and arched her back. Her knuckles dampened with her juices. Her body stiffened and warmth oozed from the tips of her toes, slowly crawling upward into her inner thighs and shooting sparks where she touched. With one finger rubbing her clit and another dipping in and out of her channel, she succumbed to scorching pleasure. Wrapped in passion, she called out Ben's name as she drifted along the ultimate high of release.

Chapter Seven

Ben sat alone in the staff kitchen, surrounded in the shadows of the night and thoughts of Cara.

He was spinning from earlier events. He'd wanted her bad. And the feelings in his body had outranked the logic in his brain. He was still as hard as a tree branch just remembering how soft she was, how warm and inviting. He rolled his tongue along his lips. She'd tasted like cotton candy and kissed like a naughty vixen. Her fire had burned into his soul.

Ben pushed his chair back and the legs scraped the floor. He stretched out his legs, hoping to ease the strain behind his zipper.

He deserved the turmoil—every single bit of it. This was why he kept his dick in his pants when it came to heartbreaks.

No, that wasn't accurate. He'd never wanted to cross the line with any other woman like he'd wanted to today. No one, no matter how beautiful or seductive, had enticed him to his wits' end as Cara had. She made him want things he'd never known—never thought he could find—until she swept in and turned his world into a chaotic mess.

And after they'd been so close—so damn close that he could taste her on every cell of his body—he'd slammed into a wall, face first.

His every protective instinct had sparked when she'd asked if he was angry because she couldn't follow through. Did she think he was an asshole?

As a teen, Ben had been close to the edge with a girl or two who'd simply taken him to the brink to turn him down. They liked the power of the tease, but he'd never been angry with any woman who didn't want to take things further. Cara was far from being a tease.

Someone in her past had hypnotized her into believing she wasn't pretty enough. Sexual enough. Good enough. He clasped his hands into tight fists. He'd like to meet up with the bastard that had hurt her, but he'd already guessed it was her husband who lay dead in a cold grave.

A woman like Cara deserved the best. She should be treated like a queen.

As much as he'd wanted to pleasure her with his tongue and his cock, he wouldn't want to have her doing anything unless she was completely and utterly ready.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and let his hand drop with a thud onto the table, sending his fork popping up and landing with a piercing ding.

Although she'd talked very little about her husband, Ben didn't need to hear her confessions to realize it wasn't a prized relationship. Cara had low self-esteem. Didn't she realize how beautiful, how desirable she was?

"You look like shit, man."

Ben looked up as Maverick came into the room. He pulled out a chair across from Ben and straddled it. "Gee, thanks." Ben rubbed his jaw. He guessed he needed a shower and shave. Probably a few winks wouldn't hurt either. The last time he looked, it was after eleven P.M.

"Running errands took me longer than expected. Why'd you need to see me?" Maverick leaned on his elbows on the back of the chair, concern etching deeper lines around his eyes. "I knew it must be serious because you keep to yourself during heartbreak season."

Ben wasn't sure what to do, but instinct warned him to tread carefully. He wasn't too proud to admit when he was in over his head, or when he needed a helping hand. "How are the other heartbreaks?"

Maverick shrugged. "I was the tour guide for a doozy today. She has more money than she knows what to do with and she's high maintenance, and likes to talk. I get the idea she's used to men jumping at her commands. I had a hard time explaining to her that I wasn't her companion, just a ranch hand, and rubbing her feet wasn't my job." He winked.

"I need a favor," Ben leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the table.

"A favor?"

"Take a day with Cara, help her get to her appointments." It hurt Ben to suggest it, but he knew he had to take a step back to gain his control.

"But you asked for us to let you take care of her."

"I know." He blew a breath through his tight lips.

"And you'll take a day with Sicily? I am scheduled to run her to several appointments."

"Yes."

Maverick stared for a good three seconds until he burst into laughter. "Uh...let me get this straight. Sicily is a wolf in designer clothes. And I'd get to spend the day with that purdy little woman who looked like a deer in the headlights?"

"You know I wouldn't ask unless I thought it was best." Ben had gone too far with her and he couldn't trust himself that the attraction he felt wouldn't continue to soar every time he laid eyes on her. He'd never been this crazy before, and the last thing he needed was to have some uncontrollable lust, or emotion, for a heartbreak.

"Damn, bro, this is highly unusual. The only time this happens is when—" Maverick's eyes widened. "Oh shit! You didn't...did you?"

"Not sure what you're asking, but I didn't sleep with her." Ben sat back into the chair, pulled off his hat and laid it on the table.

"But you feel it's in the works?" Maverick's interest was showing in his dark brown eyes.

"I feel that I overstepped a boundary and made things worse for her. I don't want to make the same mistake twice. I need some time and all will be good with the world."

"Are you falling for the chick?" Maverick lifted a thick brow.

"Hell, no. Me? Fall for a heartbreak?" Ben stabbed a thumb into the middle of his chest. "Just an attraction. We've all been there, right? I saved your ass a coupla times. Now I'm calling in a return favor."

Maverick sighed and scratched his cheek. "Man, you know I'd do anything in the world for you. But how does Cara feel about this?" Ben shook his head. Maverick sighed. "So, she's going to be pissed?"

"I think she'll be relieved."

"Are you sure this is what's best?"

"Hell, man, I can handle a woman who is here just to throw around a little attitude. In fact, I can deal with the rich socialites any day over a timid, sweet woman who just wants to trust again." Ben narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me ask twice, Mav."

Maverick shook his head. "You won't ask any of the other men, we both know that for a fact."

"Yeah? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am. I'd say we're as close to brotherhood without DNA as possible. And I know that you care about this chick, enough that you are willing to step out of the picture."

Ben pounded him on the back. "Sometimes, I think you're pretty damn smart."

"Why do you think all the ladies can't keep their hands off me?"

"Now you're sounding like Jared." Ben laughed.

"He's rubbing off on me. Fair warning, I think Sicily, your heartbreak tomorrow, is here just to find out what it's like to have a whipping boy do her bidding." He snorted. "Don't say I didn't give you a head's up. And she is scheduled for a massage first thing in the morning. Don't forget, ya hear?"

"Cara has a meeting with Sofie and a manicure and pedicure after."

"Alright, partner." Maverick stood and dipped his hat. "Enjoy."

After Maverick left, Ben was left with his bittersweet emotions. He had hoped he'd feel a sense of relief. Instead, he felt like dog shit. He didn't think the trade was the right thing to do, but Ben knew he could trust Maverick—any of the men really. They were all good guys. And Maverick knew if anything bad happened to Cara then Ben would have his head on a platter.

That night, Ben slept a good half hour and was up at the crack of dawn. By the time he headed to Sicily's treehouse, he had the least amount of excitement than he ever had before. Just his luck that the massage therapist canceled his morning appointments due to an emergency. Maverick warned Ben that Sicily wasn't pleasant and he had a feeling this would set her off in a bad mood. He knocked on her door and it opened with her standing on the other side looking like she'd tied one on and could barely stand straight. Ben didn't remember Maverick saying anything about a problem with her tilting the bottle. However, it wasn't unlike a lot of the women who came out here to relax with a drink, or two, or three.

"Who are you?" She blinked. Her eyes were smudged with black liner and her lips were smeared crimson. She wasn't bad looking, and he guessed back twenty or so years ago, she probably had any man she desired.

"Something came up for Maverick, ma'am. I'm filling in for him."

Her narrowed grey gaze slipped over him and she sniffed loudly. "I guess you'll do just fine." She opened the door wider, stepped back and motioned for him to come in. Once inside he inhaled a large amount of flowery perfume that instantly made his temples throb. "I'll change and we can be off for my massage. I've been looking forward to it."

Ben removed his hat and held it against his chest. "I'm afraid there's a problem. The appointments have been moved to this afternoon."

"That won't do at all," she slurred. "I hope you're as skilled as you look."

"Skilled, ma'am?" Ben reluctantly asked.

"Maverick told me the massage therapist has magical hands." One corner of her thin mouth lifted. "If I can't have a professional, those large hands will do." She looked at his hands, a mischievous smile curving her lips.

"I'm not quite following." Ben had a feeling this would not be something he'd like. He was hoping she was joking.

"A massage, dear boy. I was promised a body massage. Are you going to keep me waiting?" Reedy brows curved over glassy eyes.

Ben knew this was all his fault. He'd wanted the day away from Cara. He didn't want, but needed, and as challenging as it was, at least he didn't have to worry about misbehaving parts stiffening with Sicily. "I don't think—"

"Don't think, handsome, just do. I have a spasm in my back. I'm either going to have to drink the rest of the bottle of tequila or someone's going to have to rub it out."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do."

Why couldn't she just want riding lessons? Or a day of fishing?

"Just what I like to hear." She reached up and tugged her robe from her shoulders, allowing the wispy material to fall at her feet. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. Ben had to hand it to the woman. She had more bravery and self-confidence than most women her age, probably too much.

Ben had encounters like this before. He was a professional and he was back in his comfy spot—the one where he felt nothing, only a cowboy doing his job. There were no funny twitches in his chest. No aching in his groin. No thoughts of how he wanted to hold Sicily in his arms and hear her moan in delight. Nope, none of those things.

But when she stretched out on her stomach on the bed and Ben situated himself at her side, she handed him a bottle of lotion named Sex Kitten's Juice, Cara came to his mind like a jagged sword. Would she be angry at him for sending Maverick? Or would she be glad that he'd made the decision because she couldn't face him either?

"Ooh...you've found the spot. If it doesn't hurt, cowboy, you're not doing anything right," Sicily purred.

Ben couldn't wait to get his hands on the massage therapist.

****

Cara heard the soft rap on her door and excitement gurgle up inside of her, but quickly fizzled when she opened it to find a stranger on her doorstep.

"Hello, Cara." He tipped his hat and grinned.

"And you are?" She searched the porch, looking for Ben.

"Maverick." He tipped his hat. He had a friendly smile, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but her swirling confusion.

"What are you doing here? Where's Ben?"

"Something came up."

She swallowed the ache in her throat. "Nothing came up. Please don't lie." The last thing she needed was another lie, as if she was too weak to handle the truth. He stayed silent. "Oh, so he told you not to tell?"

Maverick scuffed the toe of his boot across the wood. "Look, ma'am, Ben's a good man. If he felt he done you wrong in some way, well, he wants to do right by you. I don't know what happened, just for some reason he felt this was for the best."

His embarrassment was obvious by his concerned expression. She knew it'd be useless to try to get information from him. The cowboys probably had some brotherhood pact, protecting each other. She didn't need to know what chased Ben away. He was too humiliated to face her.

Why did it hurt her that he didn't come? It shouldn't. She wasn't here at Nirvana to strike up a relationship. She was here to grow. To learn new life skills. To enjoy nature—not a sexy cowboy.

Breathing in deeply, she exhaled and tried to push away thoughts of Ben. "You're here to take me to my life skills appointment?" she asked.

"Yes. And you're scheduled for a manicure right after." He gave her a quick nod. "I'll wait for you in the cart." His smile was weak as he turned and headed down the stairs.

Cara closed the door and leaned against the cold wood. She was at a cross between two emotions, and neither was safe. She wanted to throttle Ben. Things got a little out of hand and he runs away? Or did he find touching her so disgusting that he couldn't bear to see her again for risk that she'd expect more?

She made her way to the bed and sat down. Tears developed in her eyes and she blinked them away. She wanted to believe that Ben went away because he was scared of the attraction, and not revolted that things had gone so far.

Had she read too much in his touch? His kindness? She thought she'd felt the trembling in his touch, the reaction that proved he was turned on. He'd found her as exciting as she'd found him. Didn't he?

The poor self-esteem within her rose to an ugly head. Rejection sliced through the thin layer of confidence she'd built in the short time at Nirvana.

Cara wasn't clever or knowledgeable when it came to matters like these. James had been the only man who'd ever touched her, so not having any comparison except to him, she thought a hard on equaled desire. James had never responded to her like Ben had. He'd looked at with lust, not disgust.

She was still angry when Maverick dropped her off at Sofie's office. And when she asked what was wrong, the dam broke, tears streamed down her cheeks, and Cara told her everything—her close call with Ben. "I'm confused. I really didn't expect to come here and meet someone who made me feel like I'm hot soup on the inside. The brochure didn't say anything about sexy cowboys who make you want things we can't have." She accepted the box of tissues Sofie handed her.

And once Cara's string of words silenced, Sofie placed her pen and notepad on the table, and pulled off her glasses. Her eyes were full of understanding. "Cara, I think all of the guests come here for their own reasons, whether to get away from the city, to salve a broken heart, or to heal. Even just to rest. I've been told by one of the guests that hiking the trails has made her feel better than she has in years. She was diagnosed with cancer a few years back and is in remission. Another said she went fishing for the first time and it was an adventure. Imagine laughing because you caught a fish. Nature has a way of helping us, connecting us to the root of who we are."

"It is refreshing being here. I never would have believed it possible. Before bed last night I tried one of the relaxation techniques and essential oils. I slept good," Cara said, her tears finally drying up. "I'm probably overthinking this thing with Ben."

"You're attraction for Ben might be because you're lonely, or it could be because you two have chemistry. But whatever the reason, there's nothing wrong with feeling a sexual attraction for someone. Ben is nice to look at and he has a heart of gold. And being nice isn't his job. It's who he is. You are fighting the demons lurking within you. Trust me, it'll get worse before it gets better. What are you wanting, Cara? What would be a small goal you can give yourself, something you desire at this moment to help you get life back in order?"

Cara swallowed the growing lump in her throat. She was a little embarrassed to be honest, but knew no change came with dishonesty. "I want to feel pretty." She gave her head a shake. "Not just pretty. I want to feel sexy. Truth is, I haven't had my hair done in years. I couldn't even begin to tell you the last time a beautician has cut my hair. And my clothes—" She tugged at the strings on the jean cut offs. "I haven't gone shopping in just as long. I know what works for others, but not for myself."

"You'd like a physical change as well as emotional."

Cara sighed. "Physical?"

"A makeover," Sofie said.

"I guess so. I used to watch those shows where women who were stuck in a fashion rut were invited to buy new clothes, a new look." Cara sniffed loudly. "I imagined myself giving others a makeover, but never myself."

"It's difficult to put oneself in the center of their universe when we've been made to feel we don't deserve it. I'm here to help you build the skills to overcome some of those challenges, to learn to live again."

"You've helped me so much in such a short time."

"Not that there's anything wrong with your appearance, but pampering not only helps the outside, it also helps the inside. In fact, I feel the same as you do at times." Sofie smiled.

Cara blinked. "You feel the same as I do? You're very pretty, you dress nice, and your makeup is always perfect."

Sofie shrugged. "Those are just outside things. A perfect shell doesn't mean it has no internal flaws." She slid to the edge of her chair. "You know what I think. We should give you a little of that pampering I'm talking about. I know you are scheduled for a manicure and pedicure later so why not give everything a polish? Are you up for it?"

"I-I guess I'm willing to try anything."

"Then come along." Sofie stood, took Cara's hand and led her to the back stairs in the office. "I grew up with a house full of sisters. We didn't have any money so we always did each other's hair, makeup, and nails. Considering I call myself a fashion junkie, and you're already a natural beauty, I can play up your look."

Cara followed Sofie upstairs and she slid open the door to her walk-in closet. Cara had never seen so many clothes and shoes in all her life. "Are these all yours?"

Sofie laughed. "Yes, these are all mine."

"Where would you wear these things out here in nowhere land?" Cara touched a silk scarf hanging from a hook on the door. "This is a Virginia Johnson scarf. It's beautiful, and very expensive."

"Before I came here I had use for these things. Not much anymore. I'm more than willing to share." Sofie searched through the closet and pulled out a black dress. "I'm guessing we're about the same size."

"Oh, no. I'm sure you're much skinnier—"

Sofie's brows snapped together. "You really don't see yourself as others do. Here. Take this." She shoved the dress into Cara's hands. "Try this on. I'll gather some other things while I'm at it."

"I can't do this. I can't try on your clothes," Cara hooked the hanger on the doorknob.

"Why ever not? These things will only go to waste." Sofie grabbed the dress off the hanger and gently took Cara's elbow, leading her to the bathroom. "Go on and give this a shot."

Reluctantly, Cara agreed.

"But wait just a second." Sofie strolled to the closet and came back with a basket. She held it out for Cara to look in.

She picked up red material from the basket and held it up in curiosity. "What is this?" She fiddled with the strings.

"Panties, silly. A thong to be precise." Sofie dropped the basket by her feet, took the panties from Cara and held them stretched between two fingers. "See."

Cara's cheeks flamed. "Yes, I guess I do."

"Take anything you want from the pile," Sofie offered.

"Okay, thank you, but I have to draw a line at wearing your underwear." Cara shook her head.

"These aren't my underwear, at least not technically. I've never worn them. They are new. A woman can only wear so many pairs of underwear in a day's time, and most days I go camo. Having a string in my bottom never flew over well with me." Her eyes twinkled.

"The problem is, I don't think I'll have any more use for any of these things than you do right now."

"Call this black lace therapy, honey." Sofie picked up another tiny thong from the basket and twirled it around her finger. "Women get it in their head that the only reason they should dress sexy is to please a man. What madness. The first, and only person, a woman needs to pleasure is herself. And with that comes such liberation that men take notice and can't keep their hands to themselves." Sofie wagged her brows. "And this, Cara, is where fantasies are made. Pick yourself out a few items." She smiled. "Then I'll show you why my sisters told me I missed my calling as a beautician. No one can curl hair like I can."

Cara stared at the mound of lingerie, not sure where to begin.

After grabbing a black pair of lace panties, she went into the bathroom and tried on the dress. It was lovely. The neckline dipped into her cleavage—cleavage she'd forgotten that she'd had until now. The fabric smoothed over her hips and the hem reached three inches above her knee. There was already a transformation.

"Are you going to show me?" Sofie yelled through the door.

Shyly, Cara stepped out. "It might be a little too tight."

"Are you kidding?" Sofie smiled, showing off straight white teeth. "You look better in it than I ever did."

"I know you're only saying that to make me feel better." Cara self-consciously tugged at the material at her stomach.

"Are we looking at the same person? Come here." Sofie motioned for Cara to stand in front of the full-length mirror. Unenthusiastically, Cara did. "You have a lovely shape. If I had what you have up top, I'd be showing them off on a regular basis. But we make the best of what we have and I don't run three miles a day just for the fun of it." She twirled around in front of the mirror and wiggled her bottom. It was obvious by her tight frame that she worked out religiously.

Cara laughed. It was nice to have a female's company, something she didn't have much of back home.

"I think I know exactly what would look good on you." Sofie walked to the rack, dug into the mass of clothing and pulled out another dress—a one-shoulder, red laced dress that looked like it'd fit one thigh and not her entire body.

"Apparently, you haven't noticed my thunder thighs." Cara sighed.

Sofie snorted. "Honey, we all feel that way at times. We all get bloated. Sometimes I think I'm revisiting my teen years with the break outs. And a muffin top only means more to love. Now, go try this on and let me know what you think." Sofie pushed Cara toward the bathroom. "And while you're in there, work on the self-esteem with positive thoughts, and nothing negative."

Inside the bathroom with the head to floor mirror and bright lighting, Cara felt like she was a cold splash of water. She stood there for the longest time, eyeing the slip of a dress with confusion. She knew very well if anyone besides her wore the dress, she'd think they looked lovely. And taking heed to Sofie's self-esteem reminder, Cara searched for the things she did like.

Her breasts were high and firm.

Her stomach wasn't flat, but like Sofie said, there was more to love. Cara's hips were shapely.

Up until now, she'd thought her legs were short, but they appeared long and toned. Walking to and from work every day had paid off.

The red color set off her dark hair and made her eyes look bluer.

She'd never worn anything like this before, not even in her dreams. She smoothed her hands down the soft fabric, amazed that it actually did fit.

The outfit was lovely. The tempting mix of lace and delicate design accented her curves in all of the right places. Amazingly, she felt different...sexier.

A giggle burst from her in excitement.

"I'm going to take that as you love the outfit," Sofie said from outside the door.

"Yes, yes I do. How did you know?" Cara asked, still running her hands over the fabric.

"Let's just say I saw you as a short, red dress kind of girl. And don't put your clothes on yet. I have something else for you to try. You can wear this outfit while you're here on the ranch." Sofie opened the door and handed over more clothing.

"What's this?"

"Every woman needs a pair of short shorts."

"This isn't my style." Cara pushed them back through the open door, but Sofie didn't accept.

"Try them on. It's just a pair of shorts and a silk top. You never know what your style is until you give it a try."

With Sofie's encouragement, Cara did as requested. It wasn't bad—not bad at all.

By the time Cara walked out of Sofie's office, she had a large bag of clothing, and a head full of curls and positive thoughts.

Maverick was waiting for her in the driver's seat of the cart. He slid out and greeted her with a smile, and a quick glance over the new clothes she was wearing. "Wow...what happened in Sofie's office? That's more than managing personal affairs."

She shrugged. "Let's call it deliverance."

He pushed his hat back on his forehead and rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, some deliverance." He turned red-faced. "If you'd like, I'll run you over to the cabin where the manicurist is waiting."

She'd never had her nails done, and there was a first time for everything.

Cara climbed into the cart. Sofie was right. Sexy bra and panties did make a woman feel naughty.

****

After a long day of pampering Sicily, running her all over the place, and listening to her stories of acrimony, Ben was ready to call it a day. The woman hadn't wanted to do anything, like riding or fishing, but talk about her past three husbands.

He stepped into his cabin, pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the chair. He unbuckled his belt as he started for the bathroom but a noise in the darkness made him stop.

"Now that's what I call a greeting."

"Cara?" He'd know that sweet voice anywhere. He turned on the lamp and the dim light illuminated the room. He quickly scanned the space and found her sitting on the edge of his bed. He thought his eyes deceived him.

My God, she was beautiful.

Her long dark hair hung in satin waves down her shoulders. She wore makeup, not a lot but enough to accent her beautiful eyes and luscious lips. "What are you doing here?"

She stood up and sashayed toward him. His jaw about hit the floor. He wasn't sure where she got the cut offs, but the form fitting denim made his mouth salivate...and his body wasn't immune. It came alive and was rock hard.

"You stood me up."

"We had a date?" he said.

"This morning. You sent Maverick. Didn't you think I'd be disappointed?" Her soft voice sent ripples across his flesh.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I overstepped a boundary and I didn't know what else to do." She was closer now and he got a whiff of her scent—the scent he wished he could bottle. He was so happy she didn't wear a strong floral scent. He didn't think he could stomach anymore tonight.

"It wasn't a boundary. You made me feel something I haven't felt in years...no, ever." She moistened her lips and it targeted his groin like a hot laser.

"You're all dolled up." He slipped his gaze over the low neckline of the thin top and to the tight shorts. He liked her clothes—a lot.

"A transformation."

"No. Like the icing on the cake." He smiled. "Do you have some place to be?" He'd kill Maverick if that man had formulated a plan.

"That's the problem. I got dressed up, made up, and the only place I wanted to be was with you. I hope that's okay." There was a slight tremble in her voice.

"We usually don't have visitors coming to our cabin." He scrubbed his jaw.

"Is that against the rules?" She took a small step closer.

"There aren't any rules. Just I've never had a woman come and find me. It's flattering." He was thrilled that a woman like Cara- sweet, kind and innocent, yet worldly in many ways- wanted to see him.

"I was hoping you wouldn't send me away." She clasped her hands together.

"Send you away? For heaven's sake, woman, you must think I'm stupid as well as an ass. I shouldn't have asked Maverick to transport you to your appointments. Forgive me?" A tendril of her hair had fallen to her cheek. He reached and twirled the silken strand around his finger.

"There's nothing to forgive."

"I should never have pushed you like I did at the picnic. I'm not here for the sex, sweetheart."

"But I am. I want you, Ben. I've never wanted anyone like I want you." Her voice triggered every cell of his body. "I want to feel what I did yesterday."

"Cara, you're killing me. I don't know what I should do." There was a catch to his voice that he couldn't control.

"Do you want me?"

"More than my next breath."

"Do you find me desirable?"

"My God, baby, can't you see how beautiful and lovely you are? You're an angel that was created in heaven and brought to earth. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve you wanting me, but if you say it's okay, I'll do my best to bring you more pleasure than you've ever known. It's a promise." He threw all caution to the wind. He didn't know where they were headed, and he'd probably be left hurt and at rock bottom, but at that moment he wouldn't have sent her away if his life depended on it.

Cara stepped close. He looked down at her bare feet. "Did you forget something?"

She chuckled. "Apparently, my flip flops aren't made for all of this walking. I'm starting to get a blister between my toes." Her bottom lip puckered. "Unfortunately, by the time I reached here my feet were killing me."

"You walked here? In those?" His admiration grew rapidly.

"Well, not the entire way. I was picked up by some man. I think he said his name was Dodge. It makes sense that you don't see the visitors on this side of the ranch. He was looking at me pretty funny."

"Sweetheart, I would bet my eyeteeth that he was looking at you oddly for more than you being on the wrong side of the land. He was jealous, I'm sure." Ben laughed, but it fizzled when her lips touched his neck. He exhaled slowly. "That's nice."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. Her eyes surrounded by a thick fringe of dark lashes. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

"Yes. Don't be surprised, sweetheart. You're incredible. It's time you start to believe it," he said on the tail of a harsh sigh.

Continuing her kisses on his throat, she stood on tiptoe and moved to his jaw. "I like doing this."

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he placed her in his lap, holding her close and nuzzling his face against her hair. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pushing them deep and rubbing his scalp while her mouth did magical things. Her tongue swooped out and licked his earlobe and he sucked in a deep breath. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me, I swear."

She brought her hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, bringing her mouth to his and kissing him fully on the lips. "I want you, but I'm a little scared."

"Sweetheart, why are you scared?" He touched her cheeks with his thumb, smoothing the pad across the velvety skin. "I'd never hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Ben. I'm afraid that I can't satisfy you. My husband was the only one and with him I felt like a failure." She lowered her eyes and worked her teeth across her bottom lip, showing her nervousness.
He touched her chin. "Look at me." She brought her gaze up. "That's what he wanted you to feel."

"I-I guess I'm a mess." Her insecurity was evident in every delicate line of her expression and it tugged at his heart.

"Let me tell you what I see—a woman who has been dragged through hell and survived. There is nothing about you that is a mess."

"You're changing my view of men, Ben," she whispered.

"I'm going to take that as a huge compliment." He chuckled.

She looked through the veil of her lashes, studying him. "You should, but somehow I think you're different than most men. A true gentleman."

"What did he do to you, darling'? What did he do to blindfold you from the sweet beauty that you are?" He tangled his fingers through her hair.

"I can't—not yet." Her voice was barely audible.

"Okay, but understand, he wasn't worthy of you," he said staunchly.

He wouldn't push her this time. He lowered his hand to her waist and could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin material of the shirt. She moved off his lap and came to stand directly in front of him. The moonlight streamed in, setting her in its blue glow. "My God, you're so beautiful."

"I want to believe that." She reached around, tugging at the hem of her shirt. The material rustling sounded loud in the silence as she removed it. The bra cupped her breasts high, lifting the mounds and showing them off. He wanted to touch, but kept his hand on his thighs.

She was surrendering to her desire and he found that more desirable, beyond any words. The cool evening air coming through the open window brushed across them, not helping to ease the scorching heat.

The sweet torment continued.

She bent to her knees and removed his boot, his sock, then the same with the other foot, all while looking at him through the fringe of her long lashes, craving glazing her eyes. She stood and leaned close, sliding her hand over his chest, lower to his belt. The buckle was already unfastened and she loosened the button and zipper, rolling the tip of her finger along the band of his boxers. He sucked in a breath, holding it, waiting for her next move. She climbed over his lap, straddling him and he exhaled slowly. He could feel her heat as her inner thighs grazed his hard cock. He slipped his hand up her smooth thigh and she whimpered. Sliding his hand around to her tight bottom, he squeezed and pulled her closer.

He was intrigued by her beauty and seduction. She had him in the palm of her hand and he didn't give a shit.

Their lips met in a desperate, hungry kiss while their bodies rocked. The sharp, aching pressure in his cock warned him that he'd have to lose the jeans or he'd have an impression of his zipper on his balls for life. While steadying her on his thighs, not breaking the thirsty kiss, he slid his pants low on his legs, as he continued focusing on the connection of their bodies.

She smelled good, tasted better. Ben could stay here with her forever, cloaked in a pleasure unlike any other. Even if they didn't have sex, he'd still be the happiest man that walked the earth.

****

Cara's body quaked with nervous sexual attraction. Ben's kisses were like a sin she couldn't resist. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, tasting her, sampling her. Their tongues dueled and she didn't want to ever stop.

She was letting him peel away layer after layer of her wall of protection. She was aware of the risks, and yet she couldn't have stopped the spiraling emotion if her life depended on it. Her inner thighs were swollen, hot with need. The arousal was a sweet poison, swirling her veins and boiling her blood. Lust spun around her as she gyrated her thighs around the thick bulge in his boxers.

Cara's sex turned hotter, wetter. He was rock-solid, every inch of his body built iron-hard. Her head was spinning and she wanted him more than she was prepared for. She wanted sex. Needed sex. Ben could ease the pain of need buried like a hidden treasure in her body.

Her mind whirled as he ran his tongue along her ear, flicking the lobe and suckling. He followed the length of her neck and kissed her collarbone, working his way to the tops of her tingling breasts. His palm was on her back, supporting her, as his lips sizzled her bare flesh. Being here with him seemed much like a wicked act, and she loved it. Nothing was more tantalizing to her than doing everything against what she'd normally do.

Although she had conflicting thoughts rushing through her fuzzy mind, she brushed aside all logical reasoning and went for the side that urged her to live scandalously...even if only once in her lifetime. She could almost hear the iron links rattling, breaking, as she released herself from the chains that bound her years ago. It was a liberating feeling.

Nothing she was feeling now was familiar. It was all new ground, a new place, where she was exploring a paragon of raw emotion.

This was shocking—overwhelming, exciting. Here with him, their bodies close, entwined, their mouths together, it was all truth.

She leaned on his chest, wrapped her arms around his back and moaned. "You taste good," she muttered against his lips.

He groaned and the exquisite sound vibrated her breasts and her nipples tightened. His hand unhooked her bra and the material slipped away as he slid his palm around to one breast, cupping the mound in his large palm. She watched him through the veil of her lashes, the flaring of his nostrils, the glaze in his eyes. He looked like a wild man, driven to the edge of reasoning. She knew he took things slow for her well-being, and she found it sweet, not unlike what she'd expect from a gentleman like Ben.

Smoothing her hands over his broad shoulders, she placed her palms flat against his warm chest. He blew out a short sigh, as if to let some steam out, and she got a whiff of mint. She breathed him in, wishing she could take in this moment and relive it over and over again when the night was lonely.

He cupped both breasts, his callused fingers rasping her sensitive skin, her nipples tingling. The receptors of her brain fired and every cell of her body charged.

His hands slipped to her bottom, squeezing. She realized for the first time she wasn't worried whether her butt was too large, too flabby or too stretch-marked for his taste. The way he touched her, without inhibition, put all of her silly concerns to rest. He made her feel beautiful.

She'd never been one to spend money at the salon on expensive hair styles, manicures, and pedicures. She'd never shopped in designer boutiques or wore stilettos. As far as the gym was concerned, it was a place she passed every day on her way to her shop, not somewhere she debated pumping iron, although she had to admit it wouldn't hurt for her to do some pampering for herself occasionally. But what amazed her, Ben still wanted her.

His hand skimming around to her bare thigh rocketed pure scorching heat through her body, driving a missile-like force into her core and straight into the pit of her stomach. Goosebumps marred her skin and his eyes darkened dangerously. Could he read her body language and know just how much she wanted him?

"I think it's time we lose all of our clothes," she smiled.

"I think you're right." His gaze twinkled.

She moved from his lap, her knees were weak and her breathing labored, and he stood up as the cold void brushed her skin. She shivered, but warmth returned as she skimmed the passion in his eyes. His jeans were already at his knees and they easily fell to his ankles. He gave them a kick across the room and they landed against the wall. She liked his pale blue-striped boxers. Were they silk? They looked like the expensive ones she saw models wearing on the billboards. Ben could be one of those models, no doubt. A self-conscious thought blistered through her mind of her own body, but she forced away the negativity weighing on her mind. By the bulge in his underwear, it was obvious that he found her very attractive. That was enough to help her forget the pain of years ago.

Goosebumps blanketed her flesh as his fingers went to the waistband of his boxers. Excitement tightened her throat and a soft whimper fell from her lips. Soon he'd be naked, something she'd fantasized about. She parted her lips as she watched him, her own private striptease.

He was taking his time. Teasing her. Tweaking her anticipation.

She glimpsed the head of his penis, purple with lust as it popped out of the material of his underwear. A smile flirted with her lips and she licked them, wondering what Ben tasted like. She was still too shy to give him a blowjob, although she wanted to have her mouth around him. She didn't even have a clue how to give one, not without being forced. Heat scorched her veins, spiraling between her legs. If she didn't stop staring she was going to set the place on fire.

Bringing her gaze upward, their gazes met and she sucked in a breath. My God, he looked at her with complete, utter need. Her belly did a flop and her pussy lips twitched. Oh for heaven's sake, she was in big trouble with a man like Ben. She didn't even know his last name.

And it didn't deter her one bit. Bring on the trouble.

His boxers were gone and his sex stood straight, pointing toward the ceiling. She blinked and sighed languidly. She stared without hesitancy. Wow...so that's what a man looked like fully erect? Her mouth watered and her breasts tingled.

He stepped around the side of the bed and, with a gentle touch, he placed his hands under her arms and gently lifted her to the center of the blanket. She laid her head onto the pillow and he joined her, stretching beside her.

He kissed her—his lips were perfectly made—firm, the bottom lip slightly fuller and warm. He slipped his tongue inside and she parted her mouth, allowing him deeper entry. After all, who would protest a man who kissed this good? He could stick his tongue anywhere and she'd gladly oblige. The thought made her moan and the pressure of his tongue increased.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, loving the feel of the satin locks. She cupped his cheek with the other hand and the layer of stubble tickled her palm.

And then he broke the kiss.

She squirmed and whimpered in protest.

"Your turn. I want to see all of you." His eyes were heavily lidded.

"What...?" She couldn't quite wrap her brain around his words.

His lips were on hers again, cradling her neck and her head held in his big hand. His tongue plundered her, sipping at her, enjoying her.

Driven by a need she neither understood, nor ever felt, she slid her hands to his back and splayed her fingers over his broad, muscled back. Following the path of rippled flesh, she found his wide shoulders and nicked her nails along the warm skin. His deep moan vibrated through his body and she arched her back, rubbing her nipples against his chest.

Tingles cascaded down her spine, through her weakened legs to the tips of her toes, where she curled them. Lights brightened inside of her mind, dancing like flickering candles. The kiss stopped again and she gulped air.

****

"Ben," Cara whispered his name. Her long dark hair hung in a cascade of loose curls on the pillow. Her lids were lowered and her lips were moist and pink from his kisses.

She widened her eyes as a soft smile plucked the corner of her luscious lips.

Oh, shit!

He knew he'd do anything to keep that smile from ever fading.

Cara marveled him in the most unsettling ways. In one sense, she was worldly, far beyond her years. And at the blink of an eye, she was the most vulnerable woman he'd ever met. No one could ever call her weak or a damsel in distress. He saw strength in her. She had the skill of wrapping him around her pinky, and he couldn't stop the pull.

Ben wanted her now, hungered for her like a starving man.

If this was lust, he could handle that, but he had to be careful. He'd been in lust before and it had never been this complex—this invigorating. This was more than longing and it scared the hell out of him.

She lifted her arms high above her head, clasping her hands together. He got a strong scent of woman and musk—teasing him and dragging him in. A growl escaped his tight lips and seemed to bounce off the empty walls like a ping-pong ball—much like the emotions bouncing around inside of him.

He throbbed and ached, wanting to bury himself into her sweet, little body. But taking his time was important. He had no doubt that she wanted him, he could smell the need, but he also knew she was a precious wine that needed time in aging, so when the moment came when they connected, it would be the best for her. Her tongue came out and flicked across her bottom lip. The art of seduction. He knew she'd never skilled it to perfection, but somehow that made it very sexy—almost dangerous.

"Your body is big and so warm. So nice being here," she whispered.

Her words struck every chord of his body. He slid his hands to her back and smoothed his hand down the smooth line. He stared at her breasts and his breath was trapped in his lungs. He'd never seen a better set. Neither too big or too small, they were perfectly swollen. Her nipples were the palest of pink. The buds were engorged and he lowered his head, taking one erect tip into his mouth and circling his tongue. She arched her back and pressed the apex of her thighs against his knee, tilting her hips and rolling. He could feel her sweet, warm heat and it almost sent him over the edge. The tip of his cock tingled and he blew out a long breath.

He wanted to be tender with her, but he felt so out of control, so laden with desire that he knew he wouldn't last long if he took her right now. He had to dig deep and find enough restraint to give her the pleasure she deserved.

She raked her fingers down his back and he growled.

She kissed his chest and neck, then nibbled behind his ear. He returned the favor and kissed her eyelids, her ears, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth, all while massaging her back.

He lifted on his knees and helped her out of her shorts. He slipped his fingers into the elastic of her panties, tugging them over her lean hips, down her shapely legs and she pushed them off her ankles. "Best body ever," he whispered.

"You always say the right things." She touched his chin with the tip of her finger.

"I have a tendency to say exactly what I'm thinking." He kissed her neck, lower to suckle each breasts, kissing a path down her stomach, taking the time to nibble the silken flesh of her belly button. She arched and cried out, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging. "Ben..." His name seemed to fall from her lips like honey.

He knew the sound, he was there too. But he had to take her to a place she'd never been.

Cool air breezed in from the window, across his back, helping ease the boiling heat in his limbs. He positioned his hands on her bottom, spreading them over the firm tight muscle, tilting her at an angle so that her knees parted wide. He had the eagle eye view of her most sensitive spot, nestled in a thin layer of groomed, dark hair, and it almost made his heart stop.

"I-I don't shave...I mean, I keep it groomed—but, well, James always wanted me to keep it bald and after..."

"Shh, my love. We've pointed out that he was a jerk. Let's not mention his name ever again."

"Sounds good."

His mouth watered. His tongue throbbed with need. He couldn't wait to bury his tongue in her most precious spot. Before this was over, he'd know every inch of her, every taste, every whimpered toned when she reached orgasm. She'd never again think she was broken, or didn't deserve to be pleasured.

He lowered his head and sucked opened her moist lips, finding the swollen gem peeking from the pink flesh. Somehow he knew she'd never been licked here in her most intimate parts. This both excited him and pushed him to take her to that place she'd never been.

She moaned in pleasure and he grinned, couldn't help himself—a sound that pleasured his ears. Her hips rocked, she pushed her pussy in his face and rolled around his tongue. She was silently pleading that he take her to paradise.

He cushioned his fingers in her thighs, holding her from bucking off the bed.

"Ben..." His name floated from her.

"I know, sweetheart. I know all too well. Let your body relax and let the feeling rule." He buried his finger into her moist cave, stroking the rippled flesh, thrumming her like a harp. Her movements became taut, her thighs quivered. He took on the same rhythm, following her tempo. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her pearl, blew on the bud. Her breathing changed to quick, forced pants and he knew she was close.

Then she stopped gyrating, she pushed higher, her spine stiffening and her sweet, salty cream covered his lips and tongue. Her nails nicked his scalp as she rode wave after wave of sweet release.

"Ben. Now!" she practically screamed.

"One second, sweetheart. We don't want to forget the condom."

"Hurry!" she demanded.

He pushed off the bed, rushed to find his discarded jeans, cursing himself that he wasn't better prepared. He found his pants in the corner, grabbed his wallet and found three small packages. At least he had some, not that he'd needed it in a long time. He went back to the bed, laid two on the nightstand, while ripping open the foil with his teeth. He was a wreck as he grabbed the condom and it slipped out of his fingers. "Shit!"

"Let me help." She had it in her hand, and before he realized what she was doing, she was rolling it on his erection.

He liked her aggression in bed.

Ben had been with women, but he'd never been this nervous. He was afraid he'd ruin the moment for Cara and he wanted to satisfy her more than anything. He'd spent every night since he saw her picture wanting this, dreaming of this, and he didn't want to spoil it by being a two-pump-chump at the worst possible moment. Thankfully, he'd taken care of business himself that morning and hoped it was enough to carry him through. Otherwise, they had all night for him to make it up to her. He didn't think he'd get enough of her once, twice, three times...anyway.

"I don't know what you're in deep thought about, but if you're not sure how this works, I'm probably the worst one between the two of us to explain how we go about it." She was breathless—and very serious.

"I know how it works." His palms grew clammy and he bit back a chuckle.

"Then show me," she urged.

"I might not last the whole rodeo, if you know what I mean." Her eyes widened. "I'm so turned on that the horse wants out of the gate—fast." He wanted to slip into her, spear her body wide with his cock, but she wasn't the type of woman he could fuck. "Hell, he's threatening to burst before the race even starts."

"Then make it up to me later. But for now," she lifted her legs high and wrapped them around his waist, "let's find out what we've been missing. I'm about ready to pop myself."

There was no resistance left. He slid his head to her opening, and just as he figured, she was as tight as a new leather glove. He slowly slid inside of her, allowing her muscles to accommodate his size as he waited for any signs that she was in pain or sore. Quite the contrary. She lifted her hips and shimmied, in silent invitation to take all of her. Thrusting deeper, he buried himself to the hilt as all air left his lungs.

Her body clamped him as he moved in and out, sinking himself deeper and deeper, pulling out to his tip. He clenched his jaw hard and counted to ten—backward. Forward. He even sung a song inside his head. You are my sunshine, my only—

Her fingers gripped his balls and he forgot where he was, who he was. He wouldn't have been able to recite his address or his birthday. His body teetered on edge. He could control it...maybe. No. She was a vixen!

Their bodies were locked together. Her legs were still wrapped tight around him as she rolled his balls in her palm. "Do you like that?"

"Yessss!" The words hissed from his lips like a hot iron touching water.

Their gazes met and she looked directly into him—into his soul. Her muscles grasped him, squeezing and molding. A lasso grabbing him by the horns. All restraint broke free and he slipped deeper and deeper, and he was a goner. The release came hard and bright, lightning fast. It came from a part of him buried within, emptying and raging like a forest fire, yet flowing like molasses.

Minutes passed until he finally gained his lucidity and rolled to her side, dragging her along with him, keeping one arm around her slender waist. She nestled her head in the crook of his arm and together they lay there until their breathless pants became even.

"That. Was. Awesome." Her voice seemed muffled, coming through a tunnel.

Ben couldn't deny just how great it was. He still hadn't gone flaccid and his mind hadn't come down from the extraordinary. He didn't even have an overwhelming desire to slip out of bed and break the cuddling session. Indeed, he didn't want to move for fear she would. He could stay like this.

She played with the small patch of hair on his chest, twirling the crisp curls around her fingers and the gentle action soothed him. He felt good, lying here with her, glorifying in the post-sex high. She moved her leg over his thighs and he swore he could feel her heart beat against his ribcage. He turned his cheek and inhaled her scent. Sugary cotton-candy. He could never get enough.

Hell, he didn't think he could get enough of anything about her.

That was a hard pill to swallow. He didn't have an ordinary life. Working here at Nirvana eliminated a lot of opportunity of having normalcy in his life. He had nothing to offer a woman like Cara. Nothing she needed. A woman like her wanted a man with a 9 to 5. A nice house with a white, picket fence. A family. Probably even a dog named Rover. He had a dog back home, Pete. He missed his Boxer. At times, he even missed his family. Cara would understand his pain, having a painful history of her own.

But this wasn't the time to spill his hidden guilt about Laura.

There was something about a good orgasm that made people want to talk, and that's why he never stayed and cuddled.

He stared up at the ceiling. The dim light created shapes on the white tiles. The shadows metamorphosed into a house, and then a diamond ring. He rubbed his eyes. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage.

So where was he headed?

They'd made love. Nope, not 'love.' They'd had sex. Both of them had a sexual build-up and needed release. They were connected, by sexual chemistry only. He couldn't mentally travel down dead-end roads.

Cara was a lodger. He was a staff cowboy. Nothing more could happen between them but what they'd just shared. His life was here on a ranch that specialized in country living, in Wyoming. A whole world away from Texas, where she lived. They were miles and miles away from each other. They lived distant lives...on complete ends of the spectrum.

She'd said something about moving. He bit his bottom lip. But she would want to start afresh, not with a cowboy who feared emotion.

There was nothing wrong with indulging in the thought of having more with Cara. Fantasizing never hurt anyone as long as they kept a true sense of reality attached.

"Why are you here at Nirvana, Ben? I know it's beautiful here. The horses, the land, but this place is away from the real world—exactly what visitors are wanting for a short period of time to recuperate." She was looking at him through the thick fringe of her lashes. Her bottom lip was slightly puckered. He guessed this was where she wanted to get to know him. She probably wouldn't like what she found.

"I'm a rancher."

"You know what I'm asking."

Yeah, he did. "Four years ago I packed a suitcase and headed out with no idea where I was going. I came across a buddy in a grimy diner off the highway where we'd both stopped to get out of a winter storm. We got to talking over a cup of coffee and he told me about a place hiring staff. A place called Nirvana. He told me all about it and I was hooked. We rode out here and the rest is history."

Chapter Eight

Cara listened to the night sounds through the open window in Ben's cabin. Crickets chirping. An owl hooting. Branches breaking along the edge of the woods. And nothing else, except Ben's heartbeat in her ear. She liked the strong sound. It reminded her of the heavy beat of a warrior's drum. She wanted to know more about him. After what they'd shared she needed to know more.

"Were you running from something?" She lifted herself up so she could get a better view of his profile. He was staring at the ceiling, his thumb rhythmically rubbing the back of her arm.

"Why would you ask that?" One corner of his mouth turned down.

She shrugged. "Not that I think you're a criminal on the loose. But I imagine you're here, all of the cowboys are here, for the same reason lodgers are. It's hidden away here, away from the demons that we eventually have to face." She smoothed her fingers along the tight muscle of his bicep.

A good three seconds passed. She thought he wouldn't answer. "I'm certainly not a criminal. The worst thing I've ever done was tip a cow and toilet paper a house when I was a kid. My father would have skinned my hide if I'd messed in anything worse than teen mischief. We went to church every Sunday and the Bible sat on our coffee table. I was taught right from wrong. It's simple why I'm here. A man like me has a strong desire for peace and serenity. I get that at Nirvana."

"And loneliness?"

"Alone and loneliness are two different things."

"Yes, and are you lonely?"

His grin was forced. "Of course not. I have you here."

"Again, you're manipulating the question."

Every muscle in his body tensed. "If I said yes, what would be my options?"

"I can't answer that. Have you ever thought about your future? Having a family?"

Something flickered in his gaze but she couldn't read it. "I want a drink of water. Better yet, a beer. How about you?"

"I'm good. So, you have a strong faith, huh?"

"Yup. " He got up and she watched him cross the room and her mouth dropped. He had raised, red stripes down his back. Were those left from her nails? She covered her mouth with her trembling fingers. He'd definitely managed to find her wilder side.

He bent and reached into the small refrigerator, giving her a full on target for her roving eyes. Mm-mmm. His behind was firm and perfectly shaped. She imagined he was in the saddle a lot. He turned and her focus was on the very part of him that had brought her complete satisfaction moments ago. Oh wow. He twitched and was hard again!

Quickly, she jerked her gaze to his face, knowing she flushed from roots to toenails. She had an urgency to jump out of bed and onto him, but that just wasn't her...or was it? In one night she'd had a man between her legs—the best, and the only orgasm she'd ever had. And she'd left sex marks on him, marking her territory.

He popped the lid to the long neck and the cap dropped to the floor, rolling under the bed. He took a long drink then set it on the nightstand before crawling back into bed.

"What was that like, growing up in a religious family?" She nestled back against him and he held her in a tight embrace.

"My dad was strict, but the best dad a boy could ask for. He taught me how to be a man." His breath was warm against her cheek.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Here in Wyoming. A small town called Twin Oaks. We lived on a ranch that had been handed down three generations." He played with a lock of her hair. "My dad handled many responsibilities."

"Ahh, ranching is in your blood."

"And how about you? Is vintage clothing in your blood?" He massaged her scalp.

"Mm." She wrapped her brain around his question while melting under his touch. "My mom was a seamstress, but I wouldn't say it is in my blood. I once had dreams of becoming a lawyer, but life has a way of throwing up road blocks."

"Wow. A lawyer, huh? That's a big dream, and I bet you would have been a great one. You do realize you're young enough to pursue anything you want?"

She smiled. "I think that ship has passed."

"Was your dad a lawyer?"

"He was a police officer. We also went to church every Sunday and life was good, happy. He died when I was ten. Life changed drastically after that." His heart picked up speed and his hand stopped moving in her hair. She lifted her chin, looking up at him. His jaw was tight and his eyes were narrowed. "You okay?"

"Just absorbing how terrible that must have been for you to lose a loved one, especially so young." There was a new thickness to his voice.

"It was difficult, especially for my mom who became responsible for everything."

He rolled over, facing her, cupping her chin in his palm. "You must have had great parents. They have a loving, sweet, beautiful daughter." He kissed the tip of her nose and her heart swelled. His hand dropped to her bare bottom and she squirmed.

"Do you like blow jobs?" she asked without inhibition.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. "What?" His voice was husky and low.

"Blow jobs?"

"If I said no, I'd be lying."

"I'd like to practice. Do you mind?"

"Do I mind?" His Adam's apple bobbed. "Is that a trick question?"

"I'm not very good. I don't know if I have the skill enough to make you—well—you know." She wasn't sure why she found it so easy to talk to him and admit her flaws.

"Sweetheart, I'm not sure there's such a thing as a bad blow job, unless you use your teeth. A little gentle nibbling can be okay, but biting is a no-no. That's a danger to the jewels."

"Okay, no biting. I've got that." She winked. He was already hard and she smiled, licking her lips at the mere thought of having him in her mouth. Wrapping her fingers around his girth, she slipped her palm up his length and slowly downward. "So, rubbing is good?"

"Oh, yes. Rubbing is definitely good." He exhaled and treaded his fingers through her hair.

Slipping her tongue over the bead of pre-cum at his tip, he sucked in a breath. "I'll take that as a plus." She looked up at him.

"Good," he practically hissed the word.

"And, how about suckling?" She opened her mouth over his head, sucking and licking. His muscles tightened.

"Real good." His voice was a low murmur.

"You're a big man, Ben. I wonder how far I can get you inside of my mouth." She took him deep and moaned. She sucked him in and out, rolling her tongue along the thick vein along his length. She clasped his balls in her palm and gently squeezed. His moan skidded through the silence. Yeah, she believed giving a blow job—in particular to sexy, brawny Ben—would be something she could get used to.

"Baby, as good as this feels, I want you. I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock. I want you to cum all over me and scream my name."

Climbing up on knees, she reached for one of the foil packets from the nightstand, ripped it open and quickly slipped the sheath on him. She crawled over him, situated her parted thighs above his hard body and slid her opening over him. She grabbed the headboard and steadied herself, thrusting up and down on him. "I-I like this position. You're so deep," she whimpered.

"Yes, baby. Deep." He clutched her bottom and pounded himself against her. She cried out his name. "I love to hear my name come from those lovely lips."

Taking on a fast rhythm, the bedsprings squeaked and the headboard struck the wall hard. "I'm moving too fast, making too much noise."

He moaned. "No, don't stop. Perfect. Exactly right."

She continued riding him until pulses of tingles washed through her. Cara laid on his chest, clutching his shoulders and rode the waves. Together they moved until satisfaction rolled over them, through them...and they lay spent.

Chapter Nine

Cara awoke with warmth on her bare thigh. She fluttered her eyes open, hoping it was Ben but instead it was the sun filtering through the open window. She found the spot next to her empty. She ran her hand over the sheet and it was cold. Ben had been gone for a while. Disappointment filled her.

She pushed up on her elbow, rubbed the remaining blurriness from her eyes and scanned the room, spotting the clock on the wall. Eight-thirty.

She couldn't believe she hadn't woke up when he got out of bed, but then again, she'd been exhausted and was spent by the time they'd called it a night. After using the last condom, they'd fallen asleep with her tucked in the crook of his arm.

And to her surprise, she hadn't woken up from a single nightmare. Maybe the demons were finally leaving the recesses of her mind.

Ben brought her more encouragement than she could ever imagine. He was gentle, kind and giving in bed.

But where was her cowboy this morning?

As if on cue, the door opened and in strolled Mr. Sexy. He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the chair that was already covered in clothes. He wasn't the best housekeeper, but living under tight organization for so long, she didn't care one bit if he had laundry on the floor, the toilet seat up or cobwebs in the corner. In the end, those things didn't matter to her.

"Well, well, lookie who is awake." His smile was dazzling and his eyes twinkled. He held up a small white bag and shook it.

"More condoms?" Her stomach fluttered and her inner thighs moistened.

"I've turned you into a sex maniac." He laughed. "This is breakfast, considering we both need nourishment. And caffeine. Lots of it." He dropped the bag on the end of the bed and crossed to the small makeshift counter to the coffee maker.

"I could use coffee."

"I'll have us set in no time at all."

"I bet you will." She sat up, covering her chest with the sheet, watching him move with such grace for a brawny, tough man. "Do you really think I'm a sex maniac?" Was that a bad thing? Of course, maniac wasn't a good thing...she didn't think. Either way, she was confused.

"That was meant as a compliment." He turned and winked. "I do believe I've opened the locked door to the treasure chest. I'm happy to help in any way I can." His smile grew.

"I will admit, I woke up looking for you."

"I had early morning chores. I wanted to stay, more than you can imagine."

She pushed her fingers through her hair, realizing it must be a mess. "You can't stop working just because I'm in your bed. I guess it was a bit presumptuous of me to think you grabbed more condoms."

He leaned against the counter and said huskily, "Last night was great. Hell, better than great. However, I didn't want to make you think all I wanted was sex so I didn't know if grabbing more condoms was appropriate. But since you mentioned it first," he reached into the waistband of his jeans and produced a box. "Will fifty be enough?"

Her toes curled and she wagged her brows. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I like the way you think." Once the coffee was done, he poured two foam cups full and sat down beside her on the bed, handing her one cup. "I don't have any real cups and I'd offer milk and sugar, but I'm afraid I don't have those either. I bet you like mochas or iced coffee."

"Black is fine. It'll be pure caffeine to the bloodstream." She sipped the brew and it was definitely a shot to the circulation. The cowboy liked his coffee rich, for sure. "What's for breakfast?"

He grabbed the bag and placed it into her lap. "Motley's croissant. It'll melt in your mouth."

She opened the top and peeked in, the crusty aroma made her belly growl. "But there's only one."

"I ate already. The guys and I have an early morning breakfast, work our chores and then later, Motley prepares a bigger breakfast. If I didn't keep busy, I'd be as big as a house."

She bit into the buttery bread and savored the delicious goodness. "This is good. The chef has talent." She rinsed it down with a large drink of coffee. "So you've already done chores? That's why you were up early?" At least it wasn't to get away from her.

He nodded. "Bright and early this morning. Still have a few chores left, but I wanted to stop in and see if you're doing okay."

"I guess I should hurry, get dressed and head back to the treehouse." She started to move when he laid a hand on her knee. She looked up at him as a lump formed in her throat.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

She shrugged. "Just figured you'd want me to go. You're busy and have things to do."

"Only if you wish to go, but I like this, having coffee together." The sincerity in his tone and pale eyes made her heart jump.

"I like drinking our coffee together too. Thank you. Especially for thinking of me, the croissant and all." She ate in silence, finished the last bite and last bit of coffee.

"I have something else for you." He stood up and threw his empty cup into the trash bin.

She blinked. "You do? For me?"

He chuckled. "Yes. I know it's not your style, but everyone on a ranch needs them."

"Ooh, exciting." She clasped her hands together, containing her enthusiasm.

"Give me just a second." He disappeared through the back door and came back carrying a pair of brown boots.

"Are those for me?" She lifted onto her knees.

"Yes, these are for you. We have a few extra pairs for guests, just in case they forget to pack theirs. I think I'm pretty good at guessing sizes. Are you a six?"

"Wow. You are good."

"Did you ever doubt me?" One thick brow popped up along with one corner of his luscious mouth.

"Not one second. Here, let me see them. I want to try them on." She pulled on one boot on bare foot and then the other. No one had ever bought her a nicer, more thoughtful gift. Wrapping the sheet around her body, she jumped up from the bed, wiggled her toes and gave the boots a good thump on the floor. "They're a little tight, but I can manage."

"It's the leather. Boots are always a little tight at first." There was an obvious catch to his voice.

She looked around and he was staring at her, eyes glazed over and mouth slightly open. "What is it? Do you like them?" Twirling and lifting the sheet high on her thigh, she proudly showed off the mid-calf boots. "Pretty fancy if you ask me."

"Lovely. Beautiful. Engaging."

He wasn't looking at the boots. His eyes were on her, dark and something mysterious lingering in the blue depths. She swallowed and tightened her hold on the sheet. "Ben, this is the best present ever." She was fully aware of the trembling in her fingers—and other body parts.

"You're easily pleased. I only picked them out."

"That could be true, but ask me again next year, ten years from now, and my answer will be the same, these are the best things ever!" To prove her point she kicked the toe against the floor.

"I'm glad you like them. We can't chance you spraining an ankle, can we?" He shoved his hands into his front pockets and shuffled his own boots.

"So you were thinking of me, even when you planned to never see me again and had pushed me into another cowboy's hands. I'm flattered, I think."

He shrugged and the red flannel stretched across his chest. "I would have seen you again. No doubt."

"And how can you be so sure? You tossed me over to Maverick like yesterday's news." Although her words sounded harsh, she wasn't angry. After what they'd shared last night, she knew he'd stepped away thinking it was for her own good. That's just the type of man he was, thinking of others. He didn't have to get her the boots, but he did for concern of her safety.

"I know, Cara, because having you anywhere on this ranch and not close to me is too far away."

Her heart skipped a beat and she pushed through the emotion. "You've been a busy cowboy this morning. Chores, my breakfast in bed, a box of fifty condoms, and boots. I wonder if you're too busy for something else." She cocked a hip and looked through her lashes, hoping she nailed the seductive expression she wanted.

"What do you have in mind?" His hands came out of his pockets, his chest lifted and fell with each breath.

"I won't need this for what I'm thinking..." She let the sheet slip from her body. It puddled around her new boots.

He skipped his gaze downward and was in front of her in a flash, dragging her into his arms. She didn't make one whimper of refusal. "Should I remove the boots?"

"No, sweetheart, keep them on," he whispered in her ear.

****

Ben pulled on his jeans, boots and shirt, catching a glimpse of Cara's body as she climbed from bed. Her boots were still on. He grinned and his chest filled with post-sex pride. What they'd shared might have been a quickie, but it was the best damn quickie ever. The boots had him rearing to go. And she hadn't complained.

"What chores do you have left?"

"A cow calved last night and I want to check in on the newborn," he said over the rim of the foam cup.

"Am I allowed to go with you?"

He was caught off guard. "Yes, you're allowed. Would you want to?"

"Yes. I can help. I can't say I know my way around a ranch and cows, but I can sure try, as long as I'm not intruding."

"I'd love to have you along. Company makes the time go faster."

"What could be more exciting of a morning than spending it with a hot cowboy, watching him work?" She smiled and his heart hitched. She had some power in that petite body of hers. "All that I have with me are yesterday's clothes. Shorts and a top." She held them up.

"I have an idea." He crossed the room to his small dresser and pulled out a white T-shirt, tossing it to her. "The shorts will work, but you don't want to ruin the top, so wear mine."

"Seriously?"

"Cara, it's a shirt. Not a kidney." He grinned.

She headed for the bathroom and he watched her firm bottom until the door was shut. His cock twitched and he warned his body to behave. For now, he had to finish his chores, but later he'd take all of the time needed to pleasure Cara until she squirmed with need and screamed his name.

The thought didn't do much good for easing the strain in his zipper, but it sure did give him something to look forward to.

He was glad she liked the boots. Glad they fit too.

When she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing his shirt. It was a little big but she had the hem tied in the front showing off a sliver of flat stomach. Her shorts hugged her rounded thighs, fit close enough to cause a man to lose all logic. The boots clicked the floor as she swayed closer to him...the image of removing them made his groin ache. Damn! It was going to be one long morning.

And later, while they were in the barn and Cara was awwing and cooing over the baby calf, Ben was smiling. "Bet you didn't know you had a country girl bone, after all."

Her cheeks were flushed from the morning air and her hair was wildly framing her face, and she was the best thing he'd seen in a long time. "There's something about Nirvana that clears the head and puts everything into perspective. And the calf is the cutest thing ever."

Mama cow was feeding the baby calf, but another scene had him as hot as a desert in the afternoon sun. Cara was leaning against the gate to the stall, her back slightly arched and her bottom perfectly rounded as she stood on her toes. She was a sexy woman, but the combination of short shorts and the boots made him salivate. Damn if he didn't want to take her then and there, over the top rail of the gate, giving a shit less who walked in. He'd never been this far into throwing caution to the wind and following every desire, no matter what path it led him down. Hell, he'd already predicted this wouldn't end well for him. Cara was here, breaking down walls, having orgasm after orgasm, and when the end of the next week came, she'd bid him a thank you and farewell.

That was the name of the game. The guests came and they went. But he'd never been sadder at the thought of seeing her leaving.

He didn't realize she was watching him.

"Ben, are you okay?"

"Peachy. How about you?" He pushed his hat down his forehead.

"Wonderful. Absolutely, positively wonderful." Her eyes were as bright as the sun on a cloudless day.

"That's a smile worthy of meeting each and every day." Without thought, he reached out and ran the back of his knuckle down her cheek. An electric current swept up his arm and he dropped his hand. "We've missed second breakfast and it's closer to lunch. I bet Motley would love having a beautiful side-kick in his kitchen. He teaches the cooking lessons, not that I'm saying you need them, I mean, how would I know. And you already signed up. " Hell, could he make more of a mess of things? He'd never been this tongue-tied before when asking a guest if they wanted cooking lessons. "You did say you wanted lessons, right?" This was a sign his lines weren't only blurred, but rather, they were gone.

"Yes, I'd love to check out his kitchen, maybe steal some ideas." Her eyes twinkled and he realized inviting her had been the right thing to do. Anything to light up her baby blues would be worth a trek across coals on hands and knees.

****

Ben had left Cara with Motley while he excused himself to take care of business. She didn't ask, and he didn't supply but a vague excuse.

But watching Motley expertly dice and slice vegetables for a stew for dinner had her attention.

"Did you attend culinary art school?" she asked.

Motley, an Italian with dark busy hair and prominent features tossed the cut up vegetables into a large stock pot of boiling liquid on the stove. "No. Self-taught. A man like me didn't have the means of attending school."

"Well, no one would ever know you didn't have professional lessons. You're amazing."

He beamed and she could swear his cheeks turned rosy underneath his olive complexion. "I'm glad I delight you. And because you are making my head bigger, you will be the first to try my newest dessert. It's to die for." He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"There's nothing I like better than dessert." And then Ben came to mind. Well, there was something...

Motley reached into the refrigerator. He dipped a spoon deep into the confection and handed it to her. She licked the spoon, savoring the sweet delicacy. "That's amazing. Now, what is it?" She wanted more.

"A new recipe for Tiramisu. I've been working on it for a cooking competition coming up next month. If I win, I will get the jackpot." His eyes lit up. "I could open another restaurant."

"With a dessert this yummy, can't see how you won't win."

"You're a kind woman. And I will share. Want to make some?"

"That would be great."

An hour later, Ben strolled into the kitchen. He had changed, was clean shaven, and had on a nice blue plaid shirt and worn jeans. He was a sight for sore eyes. "Is Motley giving away any secrets?" Ben chuckled.

"She is a pleasure and easy to teach." Motley grinned.

"I don't know how easy I was to teach, but I know good food when I taste it. Motley, you're a great chef," Cara said.

"Are you ready?" Ben asked her.

Grabbing her take out container of tiramisu, Cara bid Motley goodbye and followed Ben to the golf cart. She was climbing into the seat when she heard the purr of an engine and looked up as Maverick drove by. He had a silver-striped-haired woman in the passenger side who was waving herself with a fan. Ben and Maverick exchanged nods.

"So, is that one of the lodgers?" Cara stared until Maverick's cart disappeared on the narrow lane.

Ben climbed behind the wheel. "Yes."

She eyed his profile. "If you traded spots with Maverick, I'm assuming that's the woman you had for the day."

He smiled. "Yes."

"Okay, I'm sure you don't want to expand your answers to complete sentences, but how was it?"

He looked at her. "What do you mean, Cara?"

"Would you have been sleeping with her, too?" Once the words were out, she wished she could fish them back in. She shook her head. "Never mind. That wasn't a fair question."

He shifted in his seat until he faced her. "Sweetheart, I don't sleep with the lodgers."

"You never have?" She realized she was traveling down a touchy path, but she couldn't help herself. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

His jaw clicked. "I can't say that I never have, especially after last night."

Her chest tightened. "Oh, I see."

"No, you don't see. If you think for one minute I have the same relationship with everyone as I do with you, you're way off the mark." His exhale of breath brushed her cheek.

"Then, what we are doing is different?" She moistened her lips.

"Darlin', you're different than anyone I've ever met, hands down." He turned, started the cart and they drove away.

Cara wasn't sure how to take his words. Although he didn't come out and say yes, he'd admitted that he'd slept with other lodgers, and although she knew she shouldn't be upset, it did hurt ever so slightly. Heck, she was plain out jealous. Even if she had no right to be, it stung all the same.

Having sex with Ben didn't give her some special place in his life. He worked at Nirvana. He had a job and that meant pleasing the lodgers. She was a lodger. Point blank.

She turned her cheek and stared at the scenery, but seeing nothing but unshed tears. As happy as she was, she realized it would all come to an end in a week. She would leave the ranch and go home, where nothing awaited her. No friends, not really. No family. No dog or cat. She swore she was going to get a pet. Maybe two or three. James hated animals. She happened to love animals.

Cara also decided she'd tell James's sister to shove her negative, bad comments where the sun doesn't shine. There came a point that Cara had to stop letting people treat her badly. She'd allowed it to continue for far too long. She'd felt sorry for Tammy. Although she wasn't close to James, Cara did realize how hard it would be for Tammy to accept the truth about her brother when their father had been the dictionary definition of evil.

"Here we are. I realized you and I never did go down to the waterfall like I'd promised." Ben pulled the cart over in the same place they had before for the picnic.

"No bees, I hope." She smiled, forcing her brain on the present.

"While we're in the water, we'll have no worries." He grinned and slipped out of the seat.

Cara absorbed his words as she crossed the front of the vehicle. "Did you say 'in' the water?"

He nodded. "Yes. I have towels." He grabbed them from the backseat.

"Okay, but there's a problem." She folded her arms over her waist as fear threatened to make her sick.

"And what's the problem?" One brow cocked.

"I don't swim," she admitted.

"You can't swim?"

She shook her head, sending hair around her cheeks. "I never learned."

"No big deal." He shrugged. "The water isn't deeper than your waist and I won't leave your side, not for a second. I'll keep you safe."

Together they walked the field and they made their way down the slope to the edge of the water. The sound of the water was soothing and the space was shaded. It was beautiful.

Ben toed off his boots, his socks, and started for his jeans.

"What are you doing?" She swallowed.

"Sweetheart, I didn't bring trunks. Have you never gone skinny dipping?" His eyes searched her.

"As in swimming naked?"

"Skinny dipping doesn't refer to anything but." He grinned and it warmed her insides.

"I-I've never thought of swimming nude." Her heart skipped a beat.

"There's a first time for everything." He continued to remove his clothing. "Would you be too embarrassed if I took off my boxers?" His eyes shone like diamonds. "You have seen it all."

"No, yes, I mean, sure take everything off." She watched as he slid his underwear down his legs. Was the man ever flaccid?

"How about you, sweetheart? You coming in with me?" He held out his hand.

She stared at his palm for five heartbeats. What did she have to lose? Ben wouldn't let her drown and, if she did, she'd die a happy woman. With only a sliver of shyness, she stripped her clothes off until she was completely nude in front of him. He scooped his gaze over her and his erection grew full and long. The power in his physical change boosted her self-image by miles.

He took her hand and led her to the edge of the water. She dipped her toe in and goosebumps washed over her skin. "That's cold."

"Won't be for long." He winked and walked into the water until he was knee deep.

"I guess now I know it's true what cold water does to male parts." She giggled.

"Once you're in here I'm sure you'll see it's only a theory." He motioned for her to join him.

"Is there anything I can say no to when it comes to you?" She huffed and took a step toward him. The water swirled around her ankles. Higher to her knees until it moved across her heated thighs. She moaned.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. Let's go back on land." He grabbed her hand and started toward the edge.

"No, Ben. Let's do this. I'm here and I like how you encourage me to do things I'd never do. I've never felt so alive."

He nodded. "Well, then, let me take very good care of you. Although swimming nude isn't on your schedule, or anyone's for that matter, I wanted to see your body slick in water." He reached for her, lifting her off her feet and held her in the safety net of his arms. He walked her toward the middle. All of the fear faded as she stared into his sparkling eyes. "Are you okay, baby?" He gave her a quick kiss on her lips.

"Never better. "

"Can I put you down?"

"Yes."

He slowly lowered her, but didn't remove his arms around her waist. He kissed her cheek, her jaw and her neck. "Mm, you smell delicious."

"Ben, I'm sor—I mean, I shouldn't have bombarded you with so many questions earlier about other women. It's not any of my business."

"First, thank you for not apologizing. That's a change for the better. Two, believe me baby, no one has ever come close to making me feel this way," he whispered next to her ear.

"I'm not just a job?" Her voice cracked.

"Never." He rounded his hand to the back of her neck. "Any man would be lucky to be with you—to have your love."

And when his mouth touched hers, she was lost to the feelings in her veins. She didn't care that there would come an end because, at this moment, she was here with Ben. Although it was dangerous to allow her emotions to become involved, she knew it was too late. She was falling for Ben.

Chapter Ten

Cara had a busy morning. Time was flying here at Nirvana and she couldn't believe she had only three days before she had to leave.

After Ben took her fishing, he'd dropped her off at the kitchen for another lesson. When she walked out of the building, she blinked in the brightness of the sun. She and Motley had finished early and Ben wasn't there to pick her up yet. He'd told her that he had an errand to run and he'd be back soon.

Ten minutes seemed like thirty and Cara was growing restless sitting on the bench.

She decided to walk back to the treehouse. The exercise would do her good and the time to stretch her boots. Ben said the more she walked the more they'd loosen up.

Starting toward the road that led back to her lodge, she realized she'd left her keycard at Ben's cabin. She couldn't get into the treehouse without it. Her only option was to go to his cabin first and grab it.

The walk was long and by the time she got to his cabin, she was sweaty and thirsty, and ready to rest. She was surprised to see his golf cart pulled along the front.

Without another thought, she headed up the steps to the porch, hand mid-air ready to knock, and she stopped dead cold. A woman's laughter billowed out through the open window.

Her breath caught as she waited, wondering what she should do. More laughter. Ben this time.

Her heart fluttered. Sweat beaded between her breasts. She shouldn't be here...

She should leave.

But curiosity took over logical reasoning.

She quietly moved across the porch to the window into Ben's kitchen and peeked in. She couldn't see much. Angling her body on tiptoes and pressing her face against the screen, she then saw movement.

Ben was standing by his bed. Then someone else...She still couldn't see...

A scratching noise behind her made the hairs on her neck stand. Oh no. Now what?

Squeak.

Slowly, she turned and her heart tripled in beats. A skunk! It was ten feet from her, staring at her with beady eyes.

She bit back a scream as she pressed her body against the rough exterior wall. "Go away!" she whispered. "Shoo!"

The skunk sniffed the trashcan, taking its sweet time rounding the bottom, scavenging. Cara remained frozen, afraid to breathe. Fear skidded down her spine and made her knees weak. She couldn't run, knowing she'd be sprayed. Screaming wasn't an option because the last thing she wanted was Ben and his secret visitor to catch her snooping. She decided patience was a virtue. She could wait the critter out. He would have to leave eventually. And so would Ben's company.

Somehow Cara believed this served her right. Ben didn't belong to her. And yet, why did she feel like she could vomit her guts up? When James had cheated, she had taken it lightly, but knowing Ben could be entertaining another woman dragged her through a horrible emotional ruin.

The skunk looked at her with a smirk, at least that's what it looked like. "What are you looking at?"

Time seemed to stand still. The critter nibbled at a morsel of food it must have found hidden behind the can.

Cara's tolerance thinned.

The door handle jiggled and she took a small step to her left. "Oh, shit!" If she didn't move soon she would be found there—a stalker crushed up against the outside of Ben's wall.

Options darted through her brain. She could pretend the skunk caught her as she walked upon the porch. But it'd be hard to explain how she ended up at the far end of the porch, behind the trash can at the window.

She couldn't bear the humiliation. Not when he had another woman in his cabin.

Would the skunk get spooked and bolt?

No, he was bravely still chewing.

Grrr. Stupid skunk.

Waiting until the last possible second, she pushed off the wall and ran across the porch, almost making it to the safety of the corner of the cabin when she felt the cold splash against her thighs.

Silently cursing, she darted around the side and into hiding.

She brought her palm up and stifled a scream. "Oh. My. Goodness!" she murmured into her palm.

The squeaking of the door sounded...more laughter. A giggle. Heat spiraled through Cara, scorching her in anger.

She couldn't move, could barely breathe because of the stink. But she stuck to the wall like glue on paper. Now being caught would be worse than smelling like rotten eggs.

"Wow, I think you had a visitor," the woman said. "Stinky."

"Those critters are pesky," Ben said.

"Anyway, Cara would appreciate your sincerity," she said

"Thank you for everything." Ben's voice was low.

"And thank you for the gift. It's lovely."

The woman stepped away from the cabin and into Cara's view. She ducked deeper into the shadows, her hand dropped to her side at the same time her stomach flipped. Sofie. Cara's world tossed upside down.

What was Sofie doing alone with Ben, in his cabin? And mentioning Cara's name?

And he gave Sofie a gift too?

"That two-timing, snake," Cara whispered.

Ben wasn't who she thought he was...and Sofie wasn't either. And worse, she was breaking the confidentiality she'd assured Cara of. Had she told Ben everything? About Cara's past. Her fears. That she had fallen for Ben.

Why-oh-why had she trusted Sofie? Why had Cara told her everything?

Tears misted Cara's eyes. She felt suffocated by the truth. How could she have not realized this was all a fantasy? Cara had walked onto this stage wide-eyed and willing. Ben had convinced her that she was special—different. She was different alright. Not all of the women fell in love.

She was a big fool.

Cara waited until she heard the light footsteps fade down the sidewalk and the door shut. Counting to ten, she peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear. No one was in sight.

Darting toward the roadway, Cara ran as fast as her boots would carry her toward the only place she had to go at the moment.

By the time she reached the treehouse, she was shaking and tears had plastered tendrils of hair against her cheeks. She hadn't moved that fast since high school track. Her heart was pounding and chest was aching as she gulped breaths of air.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" She kicked the railing.

No key!

Could this day get any worse? It wasn't possible.

More tears flowed down her cheeks and her shoulders slumped.

And she stunk!

Stomping around to the back of the treehouse and kicking up dirt with her boots as she went along, she stripped from her clothes and dumped them into the nearby trashcan. She had a strong urge to drop the boots in also, but as she held them above the can, she couldn't go through with it. Even if Ben gave them to her and it meant nothing to him, it still did to her.

She was naïve. Always had been.

When would she learn?

Cara should have guessed all of this was too good to be true. Including Sofie's kindness!

Turning on the water to hot-as-hell temperature, she stepped into the shower and let the water run over her. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo into her palm and scrubbed her hair. Twice. Thankfully, the son-of-a-gun critter had missed her hair. Too bad it had better aim when it came to her legs. She scrubbed with body wash until her skin tingled and the water had gone cold. Grudgingly, she shut off the water and reached for a—

"Damn!" She didn't have a towel. Figures! No clothes. And she still stunk. Wow, wasn't life just grand.

"Here you go, darlin'."

She popped her eyes open, wiped the water from her eyelashes and came gaze to gaze with a smiling, sexy cowboy—a guilty, smiling cowboy, which took away from the sexiness. Who was she kidding? He was sexier than ever. She wasn't immune, not even when she wanted to be resistant to him.

She lowered her focus to the fluffy white towel he was holding and reluctantly took it from him. What other choice did she have? Parading naked in front of him wouldn't happen.

Wrapping the material around her with a huff, she stepped out of the cubicle and swept past him. "I'm assuming you got into the place using the key I left at your cabin." Her voice sounded icy to her own ears and she was grateful she could remain aloof. She didn't care what the circumstances were or that he had every right to do what he wanted with whomever he chose. He stepped across a boundary!

"Eck! What's that smell?" Ben scanned the line of trees.

"It's me! Okay? It's me!" She threw up her hands and almost lost the towel. She grabbed it before it hit her waist. Haughtily tugging it back up into place, she turned and continued inside the treehouse, stomping with each step.

"Did I miss something?" He followed her inside.

She couldn't even look at him. Twinkling eyes and charming grin would only piss her off more. Rummaging through her suitcase, she grabbed the first thing she came to. "I was harassed by a skunk!" she snorted.

"You were sprayed. Was it here?"

"No!" Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his grin. It burned through her. "There is nothing funny about this!"

"No, I guess you're right. I felt like a shit when I went back to find you and Motley said you started walking. I'm sorry I was run—"

"Stop right there." She held up her hand. "I don't want an apology. You're a free man who can do what he likes, when he likes, with who he likes. You owe me no explanation. I choose not to step into the minefield again!"

"Whoa!" He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm definitely out of the loop here. I need more clarity to understand. This isn't about skunk spray, is it?"

"We really have nothing to talk about. I'd like to be alone." She brought her chin and her shoulders back.

Disbelief filled his gaze. "I deserve an explanation. I'm sorry I was late, but—"

"This has nothing to do with you being late. It has to do with why you were late," she practically growled the words.

Confusion made the lines deeper around his mouth. "Wait...I'm not following, but—" Then his eyes widened and his lips thinned. "You were at the cabin, weren't you? The skunk had sprayed you there. That's why it stunk on my porch."

"I wasn't there spying on you."

He squinted. "I didn't say you were."

"I decided to walk from the staff kitchen and realized I didn't have my keycard to get in here. So, I went to your cabin and I found...well, I'm happy for the both of you. I plan to leave here as soon as I can manage to get this stink off my skin. Heaven knows, they won't let me on a plane until I do."

"Cara, you're totally blowing this out of proportion. You should have knocked."

"And join the club? No thanks. I'm not into kink." Her hair was drying and tendrils were sweeping across her cheeks. She blew off several and tucked the rest behind her ear.

"Kink? You think Sofie and I are an item? She was there looking at my belts," he scoffed.

"Oh, I bet she was." She dropped her clothes on the bed and clutched the towel until her knuckles ached.

"The belts I make, sweetheart. I work with leather and she asked me if I could make one for her brother for his birthday. She stopped by to grab it."

Her throat constricted. Her palms turned sweaty and she felt a bitter taste in her mouth. "She bought a belt off you?"

His ominous gaze met hers. "Exactly."

"Okay, maybe you and Sophie aren't sleeping together, but that doesn't change the fact that I heard her mention my name. She's breaking confidentiality if she's told you about secrets I've told her." Her heart was beating so fast that she felt dizzy. She sat down on the end of the bed. "I told her things that I shared in private for her only."

"Cara, she didn't mention one word about your talks or anything you've mentioned in private. I asked her advice and she offered it. I wanted to make you something with leather. Plain and simple." His mouth thinned.

Cara turned her back. "You wanted to make me something?" He chuckled and her skin crawled. She looked at him, arching a brow. "Why do you find this amusing?"

He sighed. "I find it aggravating and amusing, sweetheart. This is ridiculous."

You can breathe. In and out. In and out. She was slowly moving toward her first panic attack in months. Concentrating on her thumb, she rubbed the inside of her wrist as she hoped to slow the fast beating of her heart. "What reason would you have to tell me the truth?" Her voice sounded eerie as if someone else was speaking. Her tongue was tingling and her lips were numb.

"Wow...could it be because I'm a good guy—could it be that I'm not your husband?" The unnerving words made the soft hairs on her neck stand up.

"That's true, you're not. I won't let you get that far. You're only doing your job. " Once the accusation dropped from her lips she knew she'd gone past logic and said too much. But for the first time in her life she was capable of saying something, 'talking back' as James had called it. Speaking her mind had gotten her hurt many times, but now she felt the freedom of having an opinion. There was no threat of harm. No verbal lashings.

But the darkness in his gaze made her victory of freedom fizzle.

"Ben—"

He shook his head and stepped toward the door. His shoulders were tight—his jaw tighter. He dragged his hat low on his forehead, shielding his eyes, but she could feel the invisible lasers penetrating each layer of her skin straight into her bones. "Cara, I don't think this has anything to do with not trusting me. I think for the first time in a long time you found someone you could trust, and that scares the hell out of you. This is an excuse to push me away so you don't have to admit to your feelings. I understand because I've been there...not too long ago in fact. I pushed everyone away. I'm just sorry that your wall is back up."

He left.

And the tears came.

His words scrambled confusion and hurt in her mind, leaving her exhausted.

Reasoning came to her—one by grueling one. Ben had been right. Why would he lie? He didn't promise her anything, didn't put himself on a pedestal to get her into bed. In fact, she'd practically thrown herself at him in his cabin. He'd only been kind to her. Not a manipulative kindness she knew from James, but the real kind—the kind that counts. James would never have thought of her feet and ankles and what shoes she wore. She'd been stung by a bee before, and he'd told her she better go put some cream on it...and that was the early years of their relationship. James was self-centered. Ben cared for people.

If Cara would have stood up to James he would have made her pay with cruelty. She stood up to Ben and she hurt him.

Two different men. Worlds apart. And she had to stop comparing Ben to James.

Sitting on the bed, she buried her face in her palms. What had she done? She'd lashed out at the wrong person. Her dam broke and she found her voice, at the wrong time. Finding her voice had meant losing her rationality and she'd wounded Ben. Being hurt in her past didn't give Cara the right to hurt another, especially someone she cared for.

And yes, she cared for Ben. She loved him and he had no clue.

Prickles of sensation jetted down her back.

It was true, and she knew now more than ever.

She'd pushed him away. Seeing Sofie in his cabin had been a window, and exit sign, for her.

And here she'd let him walk away.

Grabbing her clothes she'd dropped on the floor, she hurried and put them on. In the fastest time she'd ever managed, she was dressed, boots on and started for the door. She didn't even take into consideration that she smelled of skunk and her hair hung in damp locks around her face. She guessed this wasn't the time for vanity.

But she couldn't walk that far again. Her legs were already cramping.

Going back to the phone on the wall, she dialed the extension for Sofie's office. When she picked up, Cara asked, "Can you do me a favor?"

Sofie picked Cara up and drove her to Ben's cabin. He wasn't there.

"I bet he's in the staff lodge," Sofie said.

"Mind driving me there?" Cara nibbled her bottom lip.

"Not at all. I always did like moments like these in the movies." Sofie winked.

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Yes, I bet you do." And she was quiet the short drive to the staff kitchen.

By the time she'd reached the lodge, she was rushed with one thing on her mind—making things right. She didn't think far enough ahead that there could be other staff with him, so when she barged into the building, running, she came to a dead halt, sliding several feet on the waxed floor. Utensils clattered to plates and mouths fell open. Six sets of eyes were on her and only one pair she knew—Dade. They were as surprised to see her as much as she was to see all of them.

"I-I'm sorry to intrude. B-But I need to see Ben."

"He didn't warn you about the skunk population, did he?" One of the men said.

"You're free to join us, if you'd like," another chimed in. "We're all used to the stink."

"As nice as the offer is, I think it's best I just speak to Ben." She didn't see him among the small crowd so she moved toward the door.

"Cara?"

She twisted on her boot heel. Ben stood at the door to the kitchen, his plate in hand and a bewildered expression on his face. "I wanted to speak with you." She clasped her hands tightly together as her nerves got the best of her.

Ben set his place on a side table and strolled to her. "Let's move outside, shall we?" He took her by the elbow and they stepped into the bright sun. He led her to the picnic table shaded by a large tree.

She sat down beside him and some of her anxiety faded. "I'm sorry I came here. I know it's not appropriate, but I couldn't wait a second longer to tell you that I'm sorry." Her bottom lip trembled and she scraped it with her teeth.

****

Ben stared in shock. Not only were Cara's cheeks flushed, but her lips were full and kissable, her hair wild about her cheeks. Her nipples were hard and he could see the outline through the thin, white shirt. He guessed she'd been in a hurry, pulled on her clothes, forgetting a bra in her haste. The thought brought him a smile. She never ceased to amaze him.

"I was just grabbing lunch."

"Do you want me to speak to you later?" She started to move and he laid his hand on her knee.

"No, Cara. I won't starve. And thank you for the apology." Yet he wasn't sure he was completely ready to overlook what she'd said. His gut still ached and his pride was hurt.

"I want to make it up to you. How can I?" Hope bombarded her pale eyes.

"You really don't have to. You've apologized."

"Come to the treehouse later."

"I don't know..."

"You don't want to come?" She chewed at the corner of her mouth and her eyes were filled with moisture.

"Yes, I want to, but I don't want you to feel obligated." He was only making things worse, he realized.

"It's not obligation. I want to see you." She laid her hand on his thigh and the material of his jeans didn't protect his skin from the scorching heat.

"Okay." He couldn't have turned her down if he'd tried—and that's what made her dangerous. She had a grip on his heart and if he wasn't careful he'd lose it to her—if he hadn't already.

What the hell was he doing? Something about her, in her eyes, had snagged him the moment he saw her and wasn't releasing him any time soon. The hold had grown stronger and more obvious. The more he got of her, the more he wanted.

He wanted to tell her everything. About his sister's death and even his thoughts of leaving Nirvana. Ben had gotten word that afternoon that Chase wanted to speak to him. Ben believed he was going to get his ass chewed out, maybe even fired, for his relationship with Cara. Would Chase understand that Ben cared for her? He couldn't stay at Nirvana, especially now that he realized what he was missing.

And those were his thoughts when he stood in the shower that evening, allowing the hot spray to pulsate on his tense shoulders, hoping the tightness would ease.

He'd been edgy since Cara had walked away that afternoon and left him puddling in his confused thoughts.

Ben leaned his hands on the cold ceramic wall and inhaled sharply. Adrenaline spiked his blood and he thought he could run a mile in under six minutes. His nerves were whacked and his heart was in trouble—big trouble. Rolling his neck from side-to-side, he rubbed the muscles until they finally eased.

Never before had he felt this way—revved up and ready for whatever life had to send his way.

He wanted Cara to understand him better, to get him. He hoped she'd see that working at Nirvana was only a layer of who he was. He had a feeling she would understand him better than anyone. Since his sister's death he hadn't allowed anyone close enough to see the real, true Ben. Sure, he talked to several of the fellas, but never about his life back home. Would they believe he was a church-going, God-fearing, cream of the crop boy?

He smiled. They'd laugh.

Dipping his head under the stream, steam surrounded him and the water felt good. But he had somewhere to be and a pretty lady waiting on him.

Turning off the knobs, he stepped out and grabbed a towel. Rubbing his hair first, making a quick path down his damp body, he didn't care if he missed several spots.

Strolling over to his dresser, he started to pull out a pair of worn jeans, but he pushed them back inside the drawer. Instead, he reached for the dark denims, a pair he hadn't worn but a few times. He even chose his best shirt, a long-sleeved button down with pearl buttons. He didn't get dressed up often and by all means, he wasn't fancy, but for him this was dressy.

Hearing his phone beep from the nightstand, he pulled on the jeans and shirt then went to check the notifications. He had three missed texts from his dad.

Your mom and I are wondering how you're doing. Please call.

Ben exhaled slowly. He hadn't talked to either of his parents for at least three months. When he did call he was overwhelmed with guilt, not because they made him feel that way, but because it had become a part of his character. He had a feeling if his mom and dad would be truthful, they'd blame him too for the death of their teen daughter.

He gritted his teeth, sucking back a tirade of emotion. It had been his fault. She was only fourteen. She shouldn't have been riding alone. If only...

If he could propel himself back in a time machine, he would. Hell, he'd give his own life for his sister's. At times, it felt like she wasn't the only one who'd lost her life. Ben hadn't done much living since he'd found her.

Tears came to his eyes and one fell to his cheek. He swiped it away.

Happiness had eluded him, but lately, he'd felt joy—all because of a petite brunette who had no clue how wonderful she was, or how beautiful.

Ben realized that the crew thought he was getting too close. When he'd walked back into the dining lodge that afternoon, all eyes had been on him, some giving him that tell-tale look. They had rules among them. Don't get close to the lodgers. To keep a steel wall up at all times, even against the beautiful, sweet ones.

There had been beautiful lodgers before, no doubt. Women who'd thrown themselves uninhibitedly at him and he hadn't felt any emotion scratching the surface, except for the itch in his jeans.

But Cara batted her eyes and he was on all fours, wagging his tail and waiting for a bone.

The men also pointed something out to him that here lately, he'd stopped calling the lodgers 'heartbreaks'. Yeah, and once he'd thought about it, he knew it was true. Not that he, or any of them, had meant anything disrespectful to the visitors. Ben just didn't like referring to Cara as a heartbreak. It contained a lot of insinuation that the visitors were broken, and Cara wasn't broken. Only hurt and scared. Sure, some of the women passing through Nirvana were broken. Like Sicily, for instance. She was shattered inside and took her misery out on anyone and everyone. She didn't want to get better, and she certainly wanted to control men. Ben guessed it was her way of not getting hurt again. He understood, but he also found it sad.

He didn't find Cara sad. He found her pleasingly strong and courageous. Whatever her scars were, he had a feeling she'd survived a lot. More than she was willing to confess. At least not yet. Tonight he hoped they could talk about the past—and maybe the future. He'd come to realize, probably even before Cara, that his heart wasn't in Nirvana any longer. He planned to give Chase his resignation. Ben didn't have the bounce in his step like he did before...at least he didn't until recently when Cara came to the ranch.

He started to ignore the message, but instead picked up his phone and typed...

Heading out the door. Hope all is well.

He knew it wasn't what his dad wanted to hear, but for now it would suffice.

Tonight he needed to concentrate on Cara. He was anxious to see her.

Chapter Eleven

"I don't think you should come in." Cara stood at the door, peeking through the three-inch gap. Ben stood on the other side with a wide grin.

"Let me get this straight. You don't want me to come in because you still smell like skunk?"

"Yes."

"But I don't care, Cara." He shook his head and rubbed his chin.

"But I do," she whined, not caring how she sounded. She'd tried taking two more showers and used tomato juice she'd found in the cabinet. Nothing worked.

"If you'll let me come in, I'll help. I know the secret remedy for skunk spray." He then shot her a smile that targeted all resistance.

"I already tried tomatoes and juice."

"That stuff doesn't work. I know the real cure."

Maybe there was hope after all. She pushed the door wider and he came in. "I hope you can." He passed her and left his scent behind—soap and leather, a lethal combination. The man was dreamy.

"Don't start doubting me again." He winked and he gave his trademark cocky grin. He had a big ego, but his big heart counterbalanced it. "Let me rummage through your supplies and see what we have."

While he was bent under her cabinet, she watched, shamelessly. She'd never seen him in the dark jeans before and they fit his butt like a wrapper on candy. She wanted to swat his behind, but placed her hand in her lap instead. There would be no hanky panky until the smell was gone from her skin.

She'd watch and daydream for now.

A man like Ben would have all the girls swooning. Dark hair, sky-blue eyes, and a smile that could rock the world on its axis...and tonight, he was hers—if she could manage to remove the skunk smell.

Leave it to one bad-behaving skunk to ruin her plans.

Ben would save the day. She crossed her fingers—and her toes for good measure.

Her core muscles tightened at the prospect of having Ben naked in her bed and deep inside of her. Mm-hmm. She missed him.

She wondered if he'd missed her too.

"Okay-dokey. I think we have all that we need." He stood, arms cradling several bottles of household cleaning supplies.

"I thought you were going to help me, not clean the treehouse." She frowned and laid her head down on the table. "It's hopeless. It's going to take days to fade."

"Hold your horses, darlin'." He set the containers on the counter. He searched the pantry for something, moving canned goods, pushing items around the shelf. "There we are." He took out a box of baking soda and shook it. "And it's full. Soda, lemon juice, dish liquid and a splash of bleach are miracle fixers." He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet.

"I thought I was going to have to shave off the top layer of my skin," she groaned.

"With your rosy hue, it looks like you stopped just short of removing skin." He winked. "Don't feel bad, sweetheart. We've all been sprayed at Nirvana, some two and three times. Thankfully, Motley came along and gave us the secret treatment."

She looked at the concoction, wrinkling her nose. "Anything is worth a try. At this point, I'd bathe in deer urine if I thought it'd help. Baking soda and dish detergent are a great alternative."

"Much better choice. Now, get undressed," he demanded.

She smiled, couldn't help herself. "I was hoping I'd hear those words." She wagged her brows.

"Trust me, this will be more painful for me than you. I guarantee it," he admitted.

Self-consciousness at a minimum since he'd seen every inch of her, and licked most spots. She boldly removed her shirt and shorts, down to her matching red bra and panties. "Is this good?" She tilted one hip.

"I hope I don't have to remove my jeans, too, otherwise, we'll both be covered in this goo." His voice was playful and full of promise.

"Now I like the way this is headed." She had come so far in such a short time. She never would have voiced those thoughts to James, and she'd never had the same feelings with him. Maybe her brazenness was because Ben made her feel free enough to say and do anything. He helped her move forward while James had held her back, for his own needs, of course.

He dipped his fingers in the gooey mix and wiped it on her skin. It was cold, but the heat rising in her core warmed every inch of her body. She had to remind herself that she couldn't jump his bones until she smelled less like a critter and more like a woman.

While he concentrated on her body, she followed the lines of his face, slowly moving her gaze over his chest and the open buttons of his shirt. She liked the chords in his neck and his olive complexion. It contrasted with the white and pale blue color of his shirt—that also brought out the blue in his eyes. Unconsciously, she moistened her lips and sighed.

She moaned when his fingers brushed her inner thighs. He grinned. Their gazes met, meeting his eyes and all of the warmth she saw there. Her heart beat so fast she grew a little weak.

He worked his way downward and, when his face loomed within inches of her secret spot, tingles shot to her lower belly. It didn't work to keep her heart beat under control when other parts of her were spiraling down blood pressure rising lane. Nope, her body had a mind of its own.

She turned her eyes to his broad shoulders as he worked. The shirt stretched like a second skin. Yes, he filled out the shirt quite nicely. She licked her lips and sighed. He looked up at her and she smiled.

"Now, to the back." He moved around her body.

His fingers moved on her flesh, slowly, lingering a little longer on the waistband of her panties. Her breathing had become ragged and her senses were on high alert. Her nipples were hard and tight and she had a strong urge to massage them, but kept her hands planted at her sides.

Soon, she hoped his hands would be on her for another reason besides skunk.

When he finished, he took the bowl to the sink and rinsed out the remaining mix. "We should let that dry."

Cara stood statue still, staring at him. The silence between them grew thick and tense. He was quiet, in a way she'd never known before. The air between them was electrically charged. She felt there was something he needed to say, but debated if he should.

She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. She wanted him, and God help her, she would be forever changed.

****

Ben was having a hard time breathing. His cock was paralyzed in erect mode since she'd stripped down to her bra and matching thong. He didn't have a clue she owned sexy lingerie, but he wouldn't complain.

That same feeling as he'd felt the first time he'd seen her naked returned, but tenfold. Everything disappeared around him—his world, his past, his future—and all that existed was Cara.

He was weak in her presence. That he realized long ago. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever had the pleasure of touching. He could get used to her being in his life, and that was a revelation for him.

"Glass of wine?" she asked as she pulled on a robe.

"Sure." He wasn't sure why he was so uncomfortable. He'd always been calm and collected in situations.

She poured two glasses and handed him one. He drank half of it in one gulp. "Ben, you seem nervous. Is something wrong?"

"Are we okay after today?"

"I overreacted. I don't want to use my past as an excuse, and you already know, trust isn't so easy for me."

"Looks like you're dry enough. It needs rinsed," he said. "How about we take care of that and then we can talk."

"Okay, I'll go down—"

He picked her up into his arms and headed toward the back door.

"Ben," her voice was breathless. "What are you doing? You're going to get this stuff all over you."

"I don't care. It'll wash." He effortlessly carried her through the door, down the steps to the open shower and set her down on the outside. "I always finish what I start."

She blinked. "That's a loaded statement."

"You betcha." He tuned on the water, adjusted the temperature. "It's all ready, sweetheart." He unclasped her bra for her. She slid her panties down her long legs and he salivated. Clearing his throat, he said, "Go ahead and get started, but save room for me."

He quickly pulled off his clothes, hearing seams rip in the process. He joined her under the stream. Steam rolled up around them, enveloping them in a warm cloud as he pulled her naked body closer.

"You are something, Ben. I can't quite explain it." She looked up at him, her eyes dazzling in the overhead light, her bottom lip trembling.

"I want to make you mine. Every inch. Every part of you." He swallowed hard.

She leaned into him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the water. "How did we get here?"

"One step at a time." He pushed her wet hair away from her cheek. "You don't have anything on the stove that we should be worried about burning do you? I smelled something delicious and we could be in here awhile."

"I have the timer set but we should have a good twenty minutes." Her voice cracked.

"Not enough time for me to take you to a place where you will forget your own name, but enough that I can wash your sweet body." He reached for the tallest bottle, checked to make sure it was shampoo, and poured a dollop into his palm. "I've never washed a woman's hair before, but I'm willing to give it a try. Turn for me, darlin'." She did as he requested and he lathered her long hair. He was engulfed with coconut.

She rested her head on her shoulder and a moan escaped her throat. "I must be hitting the spot," he whispered in her ear.

"More than one, I assure you."

"Now to rinse." He was careful to keep the soap from running into her eyes as he rubbed her hair to make sure he removed all of the shampoo. He poured body wash onto his hand. He started at her shoulders, massaging them, the soap a lubricant, helping him slide across her wet skin. Her muscles loosened under his touch and he'd barely gotten started.

She leaned forward against the wall of the shower as he moved his hands lower, to the long, slender line of her back. Her hands pushed further up the wall and the smooth chords of her muscles tightened slightly under his palms.

Moving his hands around to her front, he cupped her breasts in his soapy hands, rolling the tips of his thumbs over her hardened nipples, using the soap to his advantage as he swirled and flicked. She moaned louder and her tight bottom moved over his thighs. His cock twitched, but he wouldn't take things too fast. Tonight he wanted to make love to her.

Rinsing one hand, he then slipped his fingers over her firm buttocks and eased between her legs, finding the nub tucked between her moist lips. She stuck out her hips, angling so that he had better access to her most sensitive part. "I want that pussy to cream for me," he urged.

She rolled her hips, thrusts them, pumping his hand. He rewarded her by slipping his middle finger deep inside of her, swirling the digit around the pulsating muscles. He continued rubbing her clit with his thumb and followed the rhythm of her body until a deep, wild moan floated from her.

He turned off the water, wrapped her in a towel and carried her up the stairs while she snuggled deep into his arms.

"I don't think I can eat a bite right now," she mumbled.

He chuckled. "I can, but it's not food."

Chapter Twelve

After Ben laid Cara in the middle of the bed, she watched him hurry to shut off the buzzing timer to the oven. Then he returned to the bed and climbed in beside her. "Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hi." He smoothed the backs of his knuckles across her cheek.

"I don't think I could ever get too much of you." She kissed his chin, his jaw, his eyelids and each corner of his mouth. "I think you're exactly what I needed—what I need."

His hand was on her breasts, kneading and pulling her sensitive nipples.

"Please, Ben."

"Please what, my sweetheart?"

"Please don't stop. Let's stay here, right here in this paradise," she whispered.

"I'd like to give you that, but I'm afraid life would eventually come knocking." He nuzzled his nose in her hair. "My God, you're a drug and I go into withdrawal if I don't have you near me."

His breath was warm against her flesh as he lowered his head, rolling his tongue over one erect nub and then the other. Her nipples tingled and she threaded her fingers into his damp hair. The tips of his fingers smoothed over her stomach, lingering at her navel before slipping between her legs. He teased her, not dipping into the moist nest, but teasing the outer lips.

She spread her knees, opening her core, silently inviting him to explore—needing him to explore. Her body ached for him and her legs quaked with desire. "I need you, Ben," she cried out, not too embarrassed to beg

"Not yet, sweetheart. You're not ready yet," he said against her skin.

"I'm ready. I swear. I'm so ready I think I'll explode." Her flesh was covered in goosebumps.

"Patience, my dear. It'll come, very, very soon."

With one finger, he followed the seam of her body, brought his hand to his mouth and licked her juices from his digit. A tremor quaked through her. She'd never seen anything hotter. "That's a taste beyond words." His husky voice played a melody on her nerve endings. "Wet and smells like heaven."

"That should be proof that I'm ready for you."

"Let me explore you, sweetheart." He pushed his fingers between her nether lips and rubbed the pearl nub. She arched her back and cried his name. "Oh yeah...I like that." His voice was deep and his erection rubbed her thigh.

"What is this feeling between us? It's pure electric. I think I'll burn alive."

"Sexual chemistry, baby. Pure, erotic magnetism." He swirled his finger around her opening, dipping the tip inside, then withdrawing. She knew he teased her. She licked her lips in anticipation of having his tongue take his finger's spot.

"Before it's all said and done, I will know all of your secrets. I will know what thoughts you hide away in the recesses of your mind." His warm breath tickled her quivering body.

She was willing to reveal everything if that meant he'd put out the fire scorching her core.

"Your scent, it's intoxicating."

Her legs were tingling. Her breaths were ragged as his words swirled through the cloud in her mind. He was like a thunderstorm and she waded through lightning, torrid rains, following the promise of the rainbow that comes after the squall.

His tongue entered the silken folds of her body, slowly, as if he was building a crescendo. She dug her fingers deeper into his hair, tugging and nicking her fingers over his scalp. She was a cowgirl riding her bull—the bull's tongue that is. She shifted her hips higher and he slipped his tongue into her opening, in and out—as if he gave her a visual of what would come later...his big cock claiming her pussy.

And then he removed his face from between her thighs.

She moaned in protest.

He lifted himself above her, the tip of his cock wet with pre-cum, smoothing across her stomach.

His eyes were dark and passionate. "I want to take you hard and fast. I want to see the light fill your eyes as your body releases with orgasm. I want you to scrape my back with your claws, call my name in a ragged breath and lose control."

She shivered from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. "Yes." Her lips trembled.

He brought his lips to hers, but didn't kiss her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand to his erection. "Touch me, baby. "

She wrapped her hands around his girth, iron heat warming her palm. She pressed her hand up and down, gliding over his smooth skin. "You want a man who is willing to give up his life for you, don't you, sweetheart?" His words came out in pants.

"Yes. I want love. I want to know what true love is." Her throat ached in emotion.

"Let me love you, sweet, sweet Cara. Let me show you how desirable and precious you are."

He positioned above her, situated himself between her thighs and slowly entered her.

****

Satisfied and ravenous, they had piled a plate high of lasagna, which Motley had made for them and she baked, and sat together, naked, in bed. That's when Cara asked a question that rocked his world. "Aren't you afraid of falling in love with me?" He almost choked on the bite of lasagna. Grabbing the glass of wine from the nightstand, he drank all of it down. "You okay?" She looked at him over her fork.

"I'm fine." He dropped his fork to the plate that sat between them.

"Are you going to answer the question?" She wasn't letting it go. He knew she wouldn't until she had her answer.

And just how could he reply? "Is that what you're wanting?"

She set her fork down. "I want happiness. But there's so much about me you don't know. My husband was cruel and took every opportunity to beat me down. I'm not sure I'll ever be over everything he put me through."

His chest tightened in an invisible grip. "Damn, bastard. He deserved to die," he ground out between clenched teeth.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought the same thing many, many times. I had hoped he'd get help, but in the end, I knew there was no help for him. He left a trail of bitterness and pain in his wake and I'm left cleaning up the mess. I met you, Ben, and you are so gentle, caring..."

He removed the plate from the bed and placed it on the nightstand, then wrapped his arm around her. "I know it took a lot for you to tell me about your husband."

"Why do I feel like you've suffered tragedy, too?" She lifted her chin, her probing gaze meeting his.

"You're right, Cara. I have a past, too."

"Do you trust me enough to share it with me?"

He moved from beside her, needing space as he told her about his sister. He grabbed his jeans, slipped them on, and sat back down on the end of the bed. Cara was clutching the sheet against her, concern narrowing her eyes. "My sister, when she died, my world was never the same."

****

Cara watched as lines etched Ben's face while he told her about his sister. Cara knew it was hard for him to talk about and her heart filled with love and empathy.

When he was done, he crawled beside her on the bed and laid his head in her lap. She tangled her fingers in his hair. No words were needed and soon his even breaths told her he had fallen asleep.

Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. She swiped them away and attempted to gain control of her emotions. How would she ever leave him?

Chapter Thirteen

Cara thanked Motley for the lesson—the last one—and started for the door when she heard talking coming from the corridor. She looked up just as Dade and Dodge stepped into the room. They nodded in greeting and she waved.

"Ben said you were getting cooking lessons from Motley. I bet our ol' chef has never felt more appreciated," Dodge tipped his hat.

Cara shrugged. "He certainly is talented."

Dade laughed. "He has dreams of leaving us. We'll get some cook who believes instant potatoes taste like real potatoes."

Dodge thumped him on the back. "Just our luck."

"It was nice seeing you both. You have a nice afternoon." She strode into the sun and looked for Ben. He was late again. He told her he had an errand to run and he might run a few minutes behind. She started for the picnic table when she remembered she'd left her keycard on the counter in the kitchen. She was shocked she hadn't lost it yet.

Stepping back into the lodge, she heard Dade and Dodge laughing. And then her name. She froze in her spot, hidden behind the wall.

"She sure has changed since she came here. Who would have known she would blossom into a beauty?" Dade said.

"She's probably the nicest heartbreak we've had come here at Nirvana," Dodge said.

Cara smiled and started through the dining area. Neither man looked around.

"I think our good ol' boy Ben is hooked. Motley might not be the only one leaving us." Dade scrubbed his jaw.

"Who are you kidding? Ben'll be the last of us to leave. He's good because he can convince anyone that he cares, even blue-eyed angels." Dodge stretched his legs.

Heat spread through Cara from forehead to toes. She cleared her throat and both men jerked their heads up. Tan complexions disappeared and shocked and embarrassed pallor covered their faces. Keeping her chin up and her back straight, she forced a smile to her face. "I forgot my keycard."

Neither man said anything. She was glad. She just wanted to get the hell out of there as quickly as her feet would carry her.

With keycard in hand and fifteen minutes later, she was at the treehouse. Tears threatened to fall, but she refused to allow them. She'd cried enough. It was time for strength.

What had she expected from Ben? This was his job...his livelihood. Who was she to believe that a woman, especially her, could come along and steal a man like Ben from his life?

What they'd shared had been great. They'd shared their problems. She'd sensed his hurt over his past, and his concern over hers, but it was time to realize her fantasy was coming to an end.

And she couldn't bear to say goodbye.

****

Ben was smiling. He couldn't wait to tell Cara the news that he'd given his notice at Nirvana.

He also wanted to tell her how he felt. He loved her.

He took the stairs to the treehouse two at a time and knocked on the door.

No answer.

Trying the knob, it opened. "Cara?" She should have been back from the cooking lesson.

He looked through the back door and the place was empty...even the dresser was empty. All of her things were gone. His chest jerked like he'd been kicked by a mule. Where would she go? Why would she go?

Starting toward the door, a piece of paper flew off the table and landed on the floor. He bent and picked it up, seeing his name. It was a letter from Cara.

Pulling a chair out from the table, he took a seat and read her neat handwriting...

Dear Ben,

I can't thank you enough for the help you've given me. When I came here I felt damaged, worthless and depressed. I leave full of hope and promise of finding a better future. I've realized in such a short time that my husband no longer owns me. He's gone. I've also realized that I'm worthy of love.

Goodbye, Cara.

His heart slammed hard against his ribcage.

He dropped the letter and raced out the front door, jumping on his horse. He thrust the reins and the paint took off in a racer's speed on the narrow lane. By the time they reached Sofie's office, Ben was breathing heavily from fear that Cara had really gone.

When he raced through Sofie's front door, she was in her office doing paperwork. She looked up in shock, but surprise quickly turned to understanding. "She's gone, Ben."

"When?"

"Maverick drove her to the airport."

"I've got to catch her," he yelled as he headed for the door.

"Wait, Ben. Come back!" Sofie followed him to the door. "She's left already. She said she was lucky enough to grab a flight out in the hour."

Every hope Ben had vanished. She was gone. "What happened, Sofie?" His throat hurt.

"She didn't tell me, except that she thought it was best she left early."

He rubbed his hand down his face. "I-I just don't understand."

Sofie sighed and crossed her arms. "I can't talk to you about Cara and her feelings, but can I ask you if you've fallen in love with her?"

He looked at Sofie, swallowing against the constriction in his throat. "Yes. I love her. I'm leaving Nirvana and I'd hoped..."

"You'd hoped you and Cara would leave together."

He nodded. "Was I a fool?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I know if I was in your shoes, I'd follow Cara to the end of the earth to tell her how I feel."

"I don't know where she lives. I don't have an address."

"Don't you ever Google? Everything, including addresses, are at your fingertips." She smiled and went back into the cabin.

****

"Cleo, I love the new scarves. They're beautiful." Cara ran her fingers along the red silk. "I can't believe I've been home now for six weeks."

"Cleo pushed her glasses further up her nose. "I can't wait to hear about those cowboys on the ranch." She licked her lips. "You said you learned how to fish, to ride, but you left the part out in regards to what makes you smile dreamily when you think no one is watching. No horse could ever do that." She winked. "And there's a new glow about you."

"I will tell you all about Nirvana in good time." Cara patted Cleo on the hand. "I'm still holding out hope that what is right will come full circle."

"Hope is always a good thing. What are you hoping for?"

"That I will have a family." Cara sighed.

"I'm glad you have some new color to your skin. A brighter smile, and even more meat to your bones."

"Not sure that's what I needed, but I won't argue. But you better run along, Cleo. You'll be late," Cara said.

"If you no longer need me this evening, I will." Cleo grabbed her purse from under the counter.

"No. You go on and enjoy your Bridge game with the card club. Make sure you flip the open sign on your way out."

Once Cleo left, Cara dimmed the lights and folded sweaters on the shelf. A few minutes later, she heard tapping on the door. "Did you forget something—"

Cleo wasn't standing on the other side of the door.

She clicked the lock and opened it. "What are you doing here?"

Ben stepped into the store and removed his hat, holding it against his chest. He smiled and her knees knocked together. "I've come to see you."

"But...why?" She'd missed him. She'd felt like a foreigner in a world without the one person she loved.

"You left without a goodbye."

"I wrote you a letter. I did say goodbye." She turned on her heel and walked to the middle of the room, pretending interest in a stack of shirts.

"That's not a goodbye. That was a slap in the face." He was behind her in two quick strides. "And that's why you did it."

She swiveled, narrowing her eyes. "No, I did it because I knew if I looked at you I'd have to tell you everything."

"Tell me what, Cara?" He grabbed her shoulders, his warmth trickling through her veins.

"It no longer matters." She pushed him away and took a step backward.

"If it's no longer a big deal, then why can't you tell me?"

"Because we're no longer in Nirvana. I'd lost myself in the moment with you."

"Nirvana had nothing to do with how we felt...what we shared." He blinked.

"Of course it did."

"Then why the hell do I feel more love for you at this moment than I did when I left Nirvana?"

"I don't—wait, what did you say?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"I said I love you. It has nothing to do with geography and everything to do with being meant for each other. We belong together. I think I knew it from the start."

She felt a stirring in her stomach. "You love me?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I do. And because of that love, I left Nirvana for good."

"I-I don't know what to say." Everything disappeared around her and all that mattered was the man standing before her, professing his love. Could she be imagining his words?

"You could start by telling me how you feel."

"I think I'm a fool."

His shoulders slumped. "And apparently I was wrong in believing you had feelings for me."

"A fool for you," she whispered.

One corner of his mouth lifted. "Does that mean...?"

"Yes, I love you, Ben. I was hoping you'd come after me. I knew if you loved me, you would." She took a step forward, the toe of their shoes touched.

"I had to take care of business first. I'm sorry it took me so long. I had to give Chase enough time to find someone to take my place and I had to go home, to see my parents. I needed to make things right so that I could come to you free of all of the guilt of my past. After all, I want them to meet you as soon as possible." He reached out and cupped her cheek. "No matter where you go, how far you go, I'll always be with you. That I promise." He tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

"That's good that you left Nirvana. A baby wouldn't fit into that calm, serene lifestyle."

His gaze narrowed. "A baby?" Then his brow shot up. "You're having a baby?"

"I found out only yesterday. It's truly a miracle." She could barely contain the shaking in her voice. "I thought I had the flu but no, I'm pregnant. The doctor ordered lab work and the results came back positive."

He blinked. "But we used protection."

She shrugged. "Apparently we're the one-percent statistic of faulty condoms."

"Are you happy?"

"More than words could ever describe."

"Cara, I'm the happiest man alive. So now this time is only fitting." He reached into his pocket and took out a small, velvet box. He opened it and the diamond sparkled in the light. "I'm probably not your dream man. I don't have a lot of money. And right now, I'm unemployed. But I do have a lot of love for you and always will. If that's enough, will you be my wife?"

"We're going to have to work on your self-esteem, my love." She looked up at the love of her life as everything came full circle. "And yes, a million times over. I will marry you."

The End

From the author:

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and like my author page. http://www.amazon.com/Rhonda-LeeCarver/

Hugs,

Rhonda Lee Carver "Writing Men Who Love to Get Their Hands Dirty..."

At an early age, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she'd write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas were no longer contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first plot was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.

Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.

When Rhonda isn't crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her hero and heroine.

I hope you've enjoyed **Cowboy Paradise (Cowboys of Nirvana)**

For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit:

www.rhondaleecarver.com

Find me on Facebook, too!

www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver

Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver

Diamond in a Rose

Double Dare

Delaney's Sunrise

Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1, Second Chance Series)

Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)

Second Round Cowboy (Book 3, Second Chance Series)

Second Dance Cowboy (Book 4, Second Chance Series)

Second Song Cowboy (Book 5, Second Chance Series)

Second Burn Cowboy (Book 6, Second Chance Series)

Second Hope Cowboy (Book 7, Second Chance Series)

Castle's Fortress

Dreaming Ivy

Friends With Benefits

Sin With Cuffs

With Honor

Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)

Wicked Lust (Book 2, Wicked Wolves Series)

Fighting Flames

UNDER PRESSURE (Book 1, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

PRESSURE RISING (Book 2, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

Under the Mistletoe

Have you read Pressure Rising? Here's Chapter One...

Pearl couldn't believe her ears!

"Let me get this straight." She wrapped her arms over her waist and eyed Scrawny with a narrowed gaze. "You're telling me you caught Pugly with Charmin?" She slammed the gate to the corral shut.

Scrawny bobbed his head and scratched his scraggly beard with his dirt-encrusted fingernails. "Yes, ma'am. They were doing the dirty, yes-siree, they were."

"I'm going to kill him!" Icy fingers marched down her spine. She'd had enough!

"Who? Pugly?"

"No, that son-of-a-gun DJ Walters. How many times have I told him to keep that donkey off this property? I swear he does this on purpose." She kicked up dirt with the toe of her boot. "I knew I'd only have trouble with that scoundrel. I've dealt with him for years and my patience has come to the very last thread! Just last week I was checking the mail and he drove his truck through a mud puddle, splashing me. Can you believe that? I bet if he was looking down the barrel of a shotgun he wouldn't be so arrogant."

Scrawny laughed but Pearl kept a straight face. This wasn't a bit funny! His eyes widened and his jaw clicked. "You aren't serious, are you, ma'am?"

"Very!" she snapped. "I should have done something about that man long before now."

"Come on, Pearl. Don't go high-tailin' it over to Walter's R&R and get yourself into trouble, ya hear?" His thin bottom lip trembled. As a ranch hand at the Rhinestone Ranch, Scrawny was always attempting to keep the peace with Pearl and her sisters. Pearl almost felt sorry for the older man because she knew they never made it easy for him.

But she couldn't go on as things were.

She had every right to feel the wrath toward DJ Walters and was tired of his shenanigans!

Tightening her hands into fists, her nails dug into her palms. "Will you finish feeding Charmin for me, Scrawny? There's something I have to do."

"Rethink this, Pearl. Nothin' is ever solved in anger."

She ignored him, turned, and stomped toward the truck. She slipped behind the wheel and slammed the door so hard that the metal rattled. Turning the key, the engine roared alive and she cranked the window down. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Don't worry, I've got this," she yelled across the yard to Scrawny who was shaking his head.

She threw the gear into drive and sank her foot into the gas pedal. The large tires kicked up gravel and dust as she steered down the narrow lane causing several hands to look up in curiosity as she sped by them.

Satan DJ had falsely accused her of trying to run him over before, but he just might see how capable she was now. The man had no ethics and she understood just how far he'd go to send her blood pressure spiking.

Pearl reached the main road just as Em, the youngest Rhinestone sister, was pulling in. She stopped and waved.

"No time to talk, Em. I have something pressing to do." Pearl wasn't sure that Em heard her, but she couldn't chance that her sister would convince her not to pay DJ a visit.

Turning right, Pearl drove to the lane on the neighboring property. She looked at the hanging metal sign, Walters's R&R, and sighed. It was new, which meant DJ's business was doing good. She guessed there was no chance he would take his R&R somewhere else—across the country preferably.

She cursed as she drove the bumpy, gravel road. Her teeth clanked and clattered, which made the ache at her temples turn to throbbing. She couldn't believe with all the brawny Walters brothers, not one could fix the dang sink holes. Apparently, they couldn't build a fence either to keep their damned donkey in. Her anger grew to massive proportions.

By the time she pulled up in front of the two story, white farmhouse she was still steaming. Her knuckles ached from holding the steering wheel for dear life.

She was going to teach DJ a lesson, once and for all! Every chance he got, he pushed Pearl to her limits and she was sick of his pestering ways. If he wanted her furious, then he would get just that—or more.

Grabbing the shotgun from the window rack and not thinking of the danger of carrying heat, she darted from the truck and stomped up the flower-lined sidewalk. She had an urge to kick one of the peonies from the dirt, but she had an appreciation for the neat and pretty landscaping of the property.

"I usually find a woman who carries a gun sexy as hell, but you just ruined that fantasy for me. What do I owe this displeasure, Pearl?"

At the sound of the thick Texas twang, Pearl stopped dead in her tracks and shot her chin upward. She came gaze-to-gaze with Satan—DJ to most folks. Her belly knotted and her knees quivered, but the anger remained burning hot. Her throat constricted. She swallowed hard and didn't remove her gaze from his. The rocking chair creaked as he pushed himself to standing and walked across the porch, his boots pounding the wood.

From the short distance, Pearl could feel the penetrating heat from his hazel eyes that once made her think of tumbles in haystacks and long, scorching kisses. She lost her marbles one hot summer night behind a Rhinestone barn and blabbered her adolescent crush to him. She'd never told anyone about that evening, not even her sisters. Pearl was the only one who knew what happened that night—and of course DJ.

Why was he staring at her like he wanted a repeat? Never!

Why the hell had she been crushing on him anyway? Then again, what adult woman doesn't feel a sense of regret over their first stupid crush, especially when the boy was an arrogant jerk?

She abhorred DJ.

Holding the cold metal of the shotgun in her hands, she removed her finger from the trigger and aimed it away from Satan who was now leaning casually against the porch rail, all six foot two, two hundred pounds of egotistical, self-righteous cowboy who sent her temperature rising—and not in a good way.

"Don't act as if you have no clue why I'm here! Where is Pugly? I'm going to shoot that danged bastard once and for all!" Since shooting DJ wasn't an option, she could shoot the donkey, or at least take away his 'tools' for impregnating her prized horse.

A proud smile spread over DJ's tanned face making the brackets around his mouth deeper. "Why don't you put that thing away before you shoot someone? I'll get you a glass of water to cool you off."

"Don't bother!"

"A dip in the pond then?"

He was pushing her every button. "If you can't keep your donkey in your own pasture then I'm going to take matters into my own hands," she seethed.

"I've been thinking about this." He hooked his thumb in his front pocket and shifted his work boots. "It seems all of the males here wander over onto Rhinestone to sample the greener grass. Foolish bastards we are." His words dripped of latent meaning and she caught every implication like a slug into her stomach. She needed to keep her wits.

At times, she questioned whether she truly despised DJ, but the emotion that scorched her insides and made her dizzy told her it was a good possibility. He was a poison she couldn't seem to medicate or extricate. After so many years she shouldn't allow fury to consume her, but she had little control when it came to DJ. "Scrawny caught Pugly in the pen with Charmin, again. That makes the second time this month."

A casual shrug of his shoulder sent an ache through her jaw. "I already heard. Scrawny was nice enough to bring my donkey home. He certainly has a thing for that horse of yours. And from what I hear, Charmin likes the attention." He winked.

"How can you be so inconsiderate? Does it even occur to you that Charmin is a Thoroughbred, a perfect pairing of sire and dam? I have been preparing her since Thanksgiving to breed with a suitable stud, not with a donkey!"

"Ahh, but wouldn't their mule be so precious?"

His sarcasm boiled her blood. "I'm beginning to believe you're walking that ass over to the Rhinestone, opening the gate, and letting him in with Charmin."

He scratched his jaw and the rasping of his five o'clock shadow made her ears throb—and another place further south she wasn't about to examine closer. "Why do you hate us boys with a passion, Pearl? We're your neighbors."

"I don't hate you boys." She sighed.

"Really?"

"I only dislike you."

The corner of his mouth twitched. The same lips that had kissed her virgin lips when she was seventeen and had brought her more dreams over the years than she could count. She gave her head a shake. One freaking kiss! How was it possible she hadn't forgotten his taste, his leather and soap scent, and the feel of his hands on her back pressing into her flesh?

She became even madder.

"Aren't you ever going to get tired of busting my balls?" His velvety smooth voice that made women drool only made her want to vomit. Rumors were spinning that he had an entire following of waiting and willing booty call hopefuls. She wouldn't be a fish he could hook as he'd done before.

"Probably not." She smirked. "After all, it only seems you get some sick humor out of provoking me."

"How have I provoked you?" He pushed away from the rail, tucking his hands into his back pockets. The large silver buckle on his belt twinkled in the sunlight.

"For one, you lied. Your dad told mine that I almost hit you with the truck. We both know that no such thing happened."

His gaze narrowed and he knuckled the rim of his brown hat. "I guess we just have different ideas of vehicular assault."

Her mouth dropped. "I didn't hit you!"

"Yeah, because I jumped into the ditch." His face turned red.

"I was twenty feet from you. If you hadn't shot into the grass like a varmint, you would have seen that I was merely passing by. Then you went crying to your dad, telling him a cockamamie story." She laughed and she quite enjoyed his infuriated expression. Securing the butt of the gun on the ground, she held the muzzle. She realized she wouldn't be using it today.

"I hope you love that little darlin' mule Charmin foals. I'll take it if you don't want it."

His words crashed into her sanity. Although she hated to admit it, he got the upper hand because the fact was her Charmin was probably with foal—or rather mule. Not only had she bought Charmin because she was beautiful, but Pearl had researched the most beneficial bloodline to mate with her newest horse. All of the hard work could be for naught. "Charmin is worth ten times what that ugly donkey of yours is valued."

"Hey, don't offend my donkey."

"You know he's ugly. That's why you called him Pugly. Now where is he?"

Although still irritated, she wouldn't shoot the donkey. She hadn't shot anything in her life. In fact, she wasn't much of a good shot. Somehow she'd probably miss Pugly and shoot herself in the foot.

"He's in his pen resting. He burrowed a hole through the fence during the night." DJ's calm voice had returned.

"And who might we thank for securing a good fence?" She popped up a brow.

"Me."

"Figures," she huffed.

"Maybe I should bring it to your attention that your dog, Oyster, is always over here fraternizing with my Callie." He ascended the steps, pushing back his hat. "But I can handle an oversized dog and I wouldn't need a shotgun."

"Who's Callie?" Her words were barely past her lips when she heard a loud whimper behind her. She turned and her breath caught. A pair of molten, brown eyes stared back at her. "That's not a dog. That's a miniature horse." The Mastiffs tongue plopped out of her mouth and swung like a pendulum.

Pearl loved animals, always had. So when Callie lopped toward her then stopped a few feet away, ears perked as if silently asking for permission to approach, Pearl was more than happy to oblige. "Come here, girl." Pearl held out her palm. The dog was beautiful.

"Be careful. That dog might appear sweet, but she's big and powerful," DJ warned.

"Do you think you're the only one who can handle a dog?" She patted Callie on top of the head, rubbed her behind the ears, and received what looked like a canine smile. "See, Callie's a big baby. Ain't that right, girl?"

The telephone rang from inside the house.

"I need to get that," DJ said.

"Go ahead. Callie and I will get to know each other better."

The squeaking of the screen door made Callie's ears pop forward. Her tail whirled and before Pearl knew what was happening, Callie jumped up, her huge paws pushing Pearl's chest, sending her backward. Not expecting the sudden onslaught of weight and strength, she lost her footing. At the same time that she was pushed to the ground, hitting her bottom hard on the cement, her hand slipped off the gun.

Bang!

The gun fired.

"Shit!" DJ yelled.

Pearl struggled with Callie and finally managed to slide out from underneath the two-hundred pound pooch. Struggling to her feet, Pearl couldn't believe her eyes.

This wouldn't end well for her.

****

DJ stared up at the petite brunette from his hospital bed in the emergency room. The way she had her chin cocked and her fist planted on her slanted hip made his stomach twist. Or maybe it was the dose of pain meds that made him queasy, but he'd bet a month's wages it had everything to do with the cowgirl who almost killed him, for the second time.

He practically growled as he shifted his legs on the stiff mattress. If it wasn't demeaning enough that he had every nurse and doctor in the ER examining his backside, he had to wear the thin, feminine gown, which added to his annoyance. He'd asked one nurse if they had something manlier, maybe one without the flowered design, but she'd told him 'one for all'. She did whisper to him that he could take it off if he'd be more comfortable. Her smile had stretched from one hoop earring to the other, followed by a fluttering of her long, mascaraed lashes. He might have found that offer appealing if he wasn't in a hospital bed with his wounded ass stuck up in the air. This wasn't a pose he ever wanted to be in.

But thanks to the lady who still eyed him as if she could shoot his other cheek, here he was.

"Pearl, I think you've gone and jumped off the deep end," DJ growled.

"You know I didn't mean to shoot you. It was an accident," she huffed.

"This is why crazy women shouldn't be allowed to have guns." He shook his head.

"This is why crazy men shouldn't own pets." Her jaw softened some. "Anyway, I didn't kill you. You'll be like new in a few days." Her smiled seemed like it'd crack her face.

An overwhelming feeling of wanting to toss her over his knee and spank her rushed through him. "You shot me in the ass, woman!"

"Clarification...the bullet skimmed your ass. Although it might hurt like hell, I can see it and it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? And stop looking." Rolling his eyes, he swore his rising blood pressure would make the staff in the emergency department think he was having a heart attack. Then he'd be in the hospital for more than the shot in the butt. "I'm sorry that I'm not in the mood for finer details, sweetheart. A shot ass is a shot ass." He could hear his brothers now joking about his predicament. He'd never live this down. Good thing they were away for a few more days at the cattle auction and rodeo in San Antonio.

Pearl's tongue came out and swept along the plump ridge of her bottom lip, causing a stirring below the waist. What the hell?

Oh hell no! His parts had better behave.

He blamed his lack of discipline on the fact that he hadn't been with a woman for a long while and not from any sexual attraction for the crazy cowgirl standing ten feet away from him. She was the devil's spawn. He didn't like her—not one bit.

Yeah, he'd admit she was pretty enough. In fact, all of the Stone women could turn a head from a mile away and, like all his brothers, at one time or another they'd either sampled one of the sexy trio or had tried. DJ wished he was immune, but one night on the Rhinestone back when he was a teen had proven he couldn't resist. He'd lost his head with Pearl after she'd told him she 'liked' him and smiled the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Hell, he'd had a crush on her too, a big one, but his plans for college were at the top of his priorities. Besides going away to school, he wasn't interested in a long distance relationship. He wanted to get his business degree and come home to open the R&R, just as his father had promised he could.

After four years at The University of Texas, DJ came home and made sure to avoid the troublemaking female Stone clan, only waving in greeting or asking about the weather when he came across one of them. Pearl had always given him the cold shoulder as if she was too good for him. He'd rather take a dirt bath off a horse than be in the same room with her. She looked as if she could fire up his ass—and she'd actually managed to this morning.

The cave of his chest narrowed. DJ just wanted the doctor to get into the room and stitch him up so he could head home. It wasn't his idea to come to the hospital in the first place. Pearl had freaked and almost passed out when she saw what she'd done. After realizing the bullet wasn't lodged in his body, he'd planned to slap on a butterfly bandage and call it fixed, but Pearl insisted she drive him to the hospital. She wouldn't take no for an answer.

Hell, she'd been right. He needed his ass to work and the quicker he healed the better. He had people scheduled for riding lessons, tours, and cabins were lined up for rental. An injury would only get in the way of business.

His brothers picked a darn good time to go on vacation. They'd wanted him to go, but someone had to watch the ranch. He hadn't taken a break longer than a day in more time than he could remember so why in the hell should they be allowed? Even his dad was away on some fishing expedition.

Bringing his attention back on that smirking tart, he hoped more than anything Charmin had a baby mule Pugly—it'd deserve Pearl right.

"Karma is a bitch!" Pearl sniffed loudly.

"Yeah, and so are some women." Damn, he'd sunk too far and by the narrowing of her gaze, she wanted to bury a finger into the wound on his cheek. A gentleman through and through, he wasn't sure how Pearl could make him come unglued each and every time. Pearl's mouth opened and he knew she was about to rip him a new asshole, but the door opened and DJ was saved by the doctor. He'd never been happier to see a white coat in his life. "That's your cue to leave, Pearl. Three's a crowd."

He watched her—mouth closed, lips thinned—as she turned and marched out of the room. DJ smiled. There was something about making her angry that made revenge a little tastier.

Feeling a cool breeze sweep across his butt cheeks, DJ flinched and shot a look over his shoulder. The doc had the gown open and was examining DJ's rump. "How does it look, doc?"

"Like you're one lucky son-of-a-gun. It's only a flesh wound, but I'll give you a couple of stitches and you'll be as good as new—at least in a week. No riding though for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" DJ couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Yes, that's what I said. Two weeks. Although the wound is nothing serious, you'll need to take it easy so you don't pull out any of the sutures. They'll have to stay in for ten days. If you're worried about a scar and what the ladies might think, we can keep them in longer." The doc covered the flap of DJ's gown.

"Can't you just slap on a butterfly bandage or use glue and I'll keep ointment on it?" The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in a horizontal position for one day, let alone a week.

"The wound's too deep for a bandage alone. And you'll risk infection."

DJ ground his hands into fists. All of this over a donkey, a horse, and one out-of-her-mind woman! "Then let's just get this over with."

****

Pearl heard the tapping of heels on the waxed floor and looked up to find Em coming up the corridor, a smile on her face. Only she would find this situation humorous.

"I'm glad you came, Em."

"And I thought Jewels shouldn't handle a gun." Em shook her head, her smile growing wider.

"I didn't know if you got my message. Service is crappy here." Pearl stood up from the seat in the ER lobby.

Em gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. I wish I could have seen the look on DJ's face when he was shot in the butt. Priceless." Her words made several surrounding people turn their heads in interest.

"Shhh!" Pearl grabbed her sister's arm and tugged her down the hall away from others. "I'm not proud of what I've done. It was an accident."

Em raised a thin brow. "Okay."

"What? You don't believe me?" Pearl wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling a wave of uneasiness.

"I believe you, but you do know this doesn't look good."

Pearl nodded. What could she say in her defense? The proof was in DJ's wounded ass. "What do you think Dad is going to say?"

"Oh, I think you'll find out very soon." Em's face paled.

"Why is that?" Pearl asked.

Em stabbed a finger through the air. "Look."

Pearl turned and her breath rushed from her lungs. Coming toward them through the lobby was Joshua Stone. His furrowed brow, red face, and quickstep told her just how upset he was. "Did you call and tell him, Em?"

"No, I didn't. Maybe Scrawny did."

Once he was closer, Pearl attempted to put a smile on her face. Sometimes that worked for the Stone daughters, but his jaw remained steely. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

He shook his head and, as he stopped, his boots squealed on the floor. His grey eyes narrowed into slits. Powerful and in-charge, her father had the capability of making almost anyone cower under his glare—including his three daughters. He wasn't a mean man, but he had little patience when it came to mischief.

"I've come to clean up another mess." His focus drifted over the lobby full of sick people. "Let's take this to a private spot where we can talk." He nodded his head toward the other end of the hall.

Pearl followed him, shoulders slumped. Em gave her a look of encouragement.

"You didn't need to come and clean up anything. I have this under control."

Joshua's wrinkles deepened. "Pearl, then why am I getting a call from Scrawny telling me you took off in a huff after threatening DJ Walters? Then I come to find out that you shot the boy in the ass." His gaze burrowed into her skin.

"I didn't shoot him." Pearl sighed. Joshua's wiry silver brow shot up. She swallowed the heaviness in her throat. "Okay, I did, but it was an accident. His dog jumped on me and the shotgun went off."

There wasn't even an ounce of forgiveness in her father's expression. "I thought we'd discussed this before following the incident with the truck. You were supposed to stay far away from him because you two act like children." He kept his voice low. "What is it with you and your sisters and toting guns like they're purses?"

"I'm offended, Dad! Not once have I carried a gun or thought of toting one. I'll stick with Coach," Em whined.

Pearl narrowed her eyes. "Thanks, Em."

Em gave her an apologetic frown.

"No guns for you, but trouble follows you just as it does your sisters," he huffed. "I'm beginning to wonder what you girls will get into next. If it's not one thing, it's another. I swear you three are trying to drive me to an early grave. Thank heavens Jewels is getting married."

Pearl hated when her father was angry, especially when his wrath was directed at her. She'd always been the peacemaker, not the troublemaker. "I'm a victim of DJ Walters and his ignorance. Pugly got into the fence with Charmin again. You know what my plans were for her."

Joshua's brow furrowed deeper. "Who the hell is Pugly?" He waved a hand. "Never mind. It's not important. What is important is making sure the Walters family doesn't press charges. I spoke with Jeb Walters on the way here. He said we didn't have to worry. His son wouldn't make a big deal out of this. But DJ can easily go against his father's wishes and call the law. And I don't want the conflict between our families, especially since it's just you and the oldest boy who can't seem to get along."

At the mention of the 'law' Pearl had a feeling that she was going to vomit the bagel she had eaten earlier. Although the incident was an accident, things could have been far worse. And although she did hate DJ with a passion, she didn't want to see him dead.

"So, Jeb and I have come up with a solution." Relief spread over Joshua's weathered face.

"I agree." Pearl didn't wait to hear the suggestion, but felt some tension leave her muscles. "We should pay for a nurse to take care of him and we can hire a ranch hand to temporarily take his place at the R&R until he's back on his feet." She smiled in resolution.

Joshua shook his head. "No."

Her smile fizzled. "No?"

"DJ won't need a nurse. You'll stay with him at the R&R and treat him as you would one of your sisters if they were to suffer this same tragedy. You'll also help out on the land, as needed."

Pearl couldn't breathe. The overhead lights brightened and sweat beaded between her breasts. Em's gasp cracked the air, mimicking what Pearl was feeling on the inside. "I won't do this," Pearl whispered.

"Yes you will, otherwise, I wouldn't be surprised if DJ doesn't file a complaint. And you need to think of the repercussions if that should happen." The area around Joshua's mouth turned white.

"Why would I want to stay there? Why would DJ even agree to such a ludicrous agreement?"

"At this point, neither of you have a choice in the matter. Jeb and I are tired of these foolish stunts between you and his son. Maybe if the two of you are forced to tolerate each other, you'll drop all of this nonsense, once and for all."

"But, Dad, do you realize what you're asking of me?" Tears blurred her vision.

His jaw softened. He laid his hands, callused and wrinkled from years of hard work in the sun, on her shoulders. "Listen, Pearl. I'm not doing this because I don't love you, but quite the contrary. If the shenanigans don't stop, someone's going to get seriously hurt. I understand you've had a beef with this boy for years now. I don't know what sparked it, and I realize he isn't innocent in all of these events, but you're my daughter and I want you to do the right thing. You've made a mistake and now fix it." He dropped his hands, the hard lines back on his expression.

"Dad, this is crazy. You can't expect her to stay with a stranger, let alone a stranger she can't stand. They could kill each other being all alone," Em interjected.

"Then so be it because I'm washing my hands of it." Joshua turned and marched back toward the direction he came from.

"He can't force you to do this." Em gave a saucy flip of her long hair.

"With any luck, I can persuade DJ that he would do better with a nurse helping him and not me. There is no way he wants this any more than I do." At least Pearl hoped.

