 
## (3 Book Box Set)

## Love in Vegas

## Taken By The Rancher

## Jet Set With the Billionaire
Copyright 2016

Published by Carla Davis at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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# Table of Contents

Love in Vegas

Taken By The Rancher

Jet Set With the Billionaire
Love in Vegas

by

Susan Lewis

# Chapter One

We need to talk. Just four small words, but they're powerful. So powerful that they were about to change my entire life. But, of course, I didn't know that in the second they were spoken. Even though I caught the gravity in his tone and the slight furrow in his brow, I still could not begin to conceive how much my world was about to be shaken.

With his suit jacket dangling in the crook of his elbow, he swept a hand through dark hair that I'd been trying to persuade him to have cut for over a week. Neck tie hanging loose around his collar and the top button of his shirt undone, he stared at me with an expression that was difficult to read. Though, one thing was for sure, it wasn't a happy one.

"Can it wait until after dinner?" I asked, gesturing to the vegetables I was in the middle of chopping.

"No," he quietly uttered, eyes drifting to the floor as he shook his head. "No, I...um...I don't think it's a good idea to drag this out any longer."

Stilling my hand, I felt the concern crease my own forehead and tension creep into my shoulders. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Let's go in the bedroom," he urged, gaze deliberately moving to our two young children, who had been sitting at the counter, reading a book to each other. Now, however, their small dark heads, so much like their dad's, had lifted and were looking worriedly from me to him and back again.

Spinning, I placed the knife back in the rack, before hustling the children out of the kitchen. "Watch TV for a little while, okay," I offered, guiding them to the rug.

Mitchell had already left me and I could hear his footsteps on the stairs. A feeling of dread entering the pit of my stomach, I hurriedly followed him. As I walked through the open door of our large bedroom, he was sitting at the foot of the four-poster bed, legs spread wide and elbows resting on his thighs.

"What on Earth's wrong?" I whispered, closing the door behind me in case young ears were listening intently. "Has something happened at work? Is the company-?"

"It's nothing like that," he quickly uttered, sitting up straight and running a hand over the slight belly he'd developed over the previous five years. It was subtle, and it didn't bother me in the slightest, but he was conscious of it.

Blinking, I stared blankly back at him. "Then, what is it?" I sighed, wringing my hands anxiously in front of me. "Are you sick?"

"No, Hollie," he sighed. "I've met someone," he blurted, unable to look me in the eyes as he spoke those words.

They didn't need any further explanation; they were succinct and crystal clear. Yet, my brain refused to process the simple phrase and reason it out to its only possible conclusion. "What do you mean?" I mumbled, shaking my confused head. "Wh...what do you mean, you've met someone."

"Exactly what I say," he wearily snapped. "I've met someone, okay?" he stated, still not managing to lift his eyes far from the carpeted floor. "Things between us haven't been right for a while now, and...I'm just not in love with you any more. I want a divorce, Hollie."

Numb, I stood motionless. I must have misheard him. That was the only rational explanation. Mitchell and I had been together since we were sixteen; we'd been married for eight years, and in all that time, I'd believed we were both happy. Of course, it wasn't always wine and roses, we argued on occasion, but nothing to warrant such a sudden and adamant request for divorce.

"Hollie, for God's sakes, say something," he muttered.

"You've been having an affair?" I breathed, my voice catching in my throat as I leaned back against the closed door for support.

"No," he snapped. "No, I have not."

"Right," I whispered. "So, you're ready to leave me for a woman you haven't slept with yet?"

"Look, I didn't plan it, Hollie," he blurted. "I fell in love, all right?"

"No, it's not all right," I choked, laughing humorlessly. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long?" I repeated. "How long have it been going on?"

Shaking his head, he pushed himself off the bed and snatched his loose tie from around his neck. Tossing the silk onto the mattress, he began pacing the width of the room. "Nothing has been going on," he huffed. "We kissed, but it never went any further than that."

"Bullshit," I mumbled. "You expect me to believe that crap?"

Running a hand over his brow, he shook his head vehemently. "It doesn't matter now anyway, does it?"

"Not to you," I bitterly replied. "Because our marriage doesn't matter to you."

"Look-" he yelled, whirling around to face me.

Forestalling him, I reached back for the door handle and turned it. "It's fine, Mitch," I quickly blabbed, plastering a smile on my face. "We don't need to discuss it any more. You've made your decision, right? You want out?"

"I was hoping we could talk about it like adults," he spat angrily.

Unshed tears stinging the backs of my eyes, I swallowed a thick lump in my throat. "What is there to talk about?" I asked quietly.

His narrow lips parted and he sucked in a breath. However, no words emerged from his mouth.

"The kids are waiting for dinner," I told him calmly. "If you want to leave, I suggest you start packing your stuff. You can go and screw this woman with a clear conscience now, right?"

"Don't be crude, Hollie," he disgustedly muttered. "It doesn't suit you."

"Well, I don't need to worry about what you think suits me any more, do I?" I told him tartly as I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door firmly behind me. Knowing that I could not hold the tears back, I walked quickly into the family bathroom and locked the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, salty droplets weaved their way down my cheeks and dripped from my chin.

I remained that way for several minutes, soundlessly sobbing, and wondering how the man I loved could have so cruelly ripped the ground out from under me. Had we really drifted so far apart? How could I not have noticed what had been going on right in front of my face? Had I been making him miserable and not even known it?

Feeling thoroughly drained and semi-paralyzed, I trekked down the stairs and somehow continued to prepare dinner.

Six-year-old Michael was curious and perceptive and sensed that something was wrong.

I tried to brush his concern aside. "Daddy's just going to spend some time away from home," I told him.

With a brand of simplicity that only exists in a child's mind, he asked, "Why?"

"I don't really know, sweetheart," I replied honestly.

My daughter, Alena, was more withdrawn than her older brother. But there was an unmissable crease in her four-year-old forehead, and she watched me worriedly as if she expected me to burst into tears at any second. I don't know whether the two of them knew I'd been crying despite my best efforts to hide it. My brave face may not have been as convincing as I had believed it to be at the time.

At some point during dinner, I heard the front door close followed by the roar of Mitch's BMW as he peeled out of the driveway.

"When's he coming back?" Michael asked innocently.

"I'm sorry, honey," I replied sympathetically. "I don't know that, either."

Later that evening, with the kids both in bed, I opened a bottle of wine and shut myself away in the bedroom. Not bothering to put on the light, I sat on the edge of the bed, exactly where Mitchell had been sitting a few short hours before. Gradually getting drunker, I stared miserably at my reflection.

Twenty-nine. During an entire decade when my friends had been partying and having fun, I had been a wife and mother. I didn't begrudge my kids that; I'd wanted them as much as Mitch had. But, what was I left with now? On the cusp of thirty, I was single again. For the first time in my adult life, I was single – that seemed too surreal to be true.

Finding my own blue eyes in the mirror, I noted I was looking right through myself; no wonder the children had known something was up. My light brown hair was pushed back in a ponytail, but a few strands curtained my cheeks. I looked like a mother, all right. But I didn't have to. Just last month I'd gotten dressed up for one of Mitch's work events, and I'd looked pretty good. I still had a decent figure, and with the help of a light dab of make-up, my skin glowed almost like it had when I was eighteen.

My 'loving' husband hadn't mentioned the way I looked that night. I guess he'd already met the women he was leaving me for. Perhaps, compared to her, I looked like crap. Realizing that the alcohol was making my self-immolation worse, I placed the bottle on the floor and flopped back on the mattress. Staring at the dark ceiling, I didn't get any sleep that night.

# Chapter Two

The next morning, running on nothing more than exhaustion and numbness, I moved in a haze. After I'd dropped Michael and Alena at kindergarten and pre-school, I simply drove around for a while, not sure where to go or what to do. Home didn't really feel like home any more. It was too full of memories, too full of Mitch and the constant reminder of what he'd done.

In the end, with no plan to do so, I ended up pulling into the parking lot of my best friend's Condo building. Dione and I had been friends for almost ten years; we'd met working as waitresses as we'd both been getting through college. Whereas I'd, eventually, dropped out when Mitch and I married, she'd continued; gotten her degree and had gone on to build her own PR business.

Still walking around in a fog of disbelief, I somehow found my way to her front door and tapped lightly on the hard surface.

It was several moments before I heard her groggy, "Comin'," and then, slowly, the door opened. Dark eyes blinking, she rubbed a sleepy hand across her henna brow, sweeping strands of dark hair away from her vision. "What's going on?" she mumbled, focus moving carefully over my face.

"I..um..." I muttered weakly, my bottom lip trembling. Hating the fact I seemed so weak and childlike, I bit the quivering flesh between my teeth and willed the tears to remain unshed. It was ultimately futile, though. The more I tried to blink them back, the harder it was to keep them at bay. Gradually, the scorching droplets skated over my pallid cheeks.

"Hollie," my friend anxiously said, sleep quickly dismissed from her features, "what on Earth's wrong?"

"He's left me," I managed to babble, the words distorted and barely audible.

"What?" she demanded, reaching out with her right hand and wrapping her soft fingers around my wrist. "What do you mean, he's left you?" she asked, tugging me into the apartment and closing the door behind us.

An hour or so later, tears still dampening my face, but coming much more slowly and quietly than before, I had recounted the conversation I'd had with my husband and what happened afterward.

"Just like that?" she wondered aloud, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch and leaning into its corner. "Totally out of the blue?"

"Seemed that way to me," I replied. "I thought we were happy. I thought I was making him happy."

"Jesus," she huffed, eyes moving to the ceiling as she shook her head slightly. "God, why can't men think with anything other than their dicks?" she mused rhetorically. Dione had always had a very cynical view of men – well, of people in general really. She also had serious reservations about the staying power of most relationships. Still very much free and single, she was extremely happy with that life. In all the time I'd known her, she'd only had one relationship that had lasted longer than six months.

"You think he has cheated on me?" I sniffed, wiping the back of my hand over a wet cheekbone.

"Oh, honey," she sighed, "I don't know, but it sure as hell doesn't look good." Gaze drifting downward, her serious eyes settled on me. "And whether he has or not, he's still a complete prick."

Unable to prevent myself, I huffed out a sad chuckle. "I just..." I breathed softly. "I don't know where this leaves me. I'm a single mom, my roaring twenties are almost behind me...I..."

"You're not seriously suggesting that your whole world is gonna crumble over this?" she blurted incredulously.

"Mitch and the kids _are_ my whole world," I countered quickly.

"Sure," she nodded, "and I know how much Mike and Alena mean to you, but that doesn't mean there's no room for other things in your life. Being a mom is not the start and end of who you are, Hollie."

Quietly and skeptically, I listened.

"Life is going to go on without Mitch," she insisted. "I promise you, he hasn't left a permanent void."

Silently, I shook my head. She didn't understand. To her, men were replaceable; I wasn't sure if she'd ever been in love – the painful kind that made you feel as though you couldn't breathe.

Seeming to understand my unspoken doubts, she continued. "I know it hurts like hell right now, Hol," she whispered, resting a sympathetic hand on my thigh. "You know what you need?" she said, suddenly brightening with a broad smile. "Revenge!"

"Ugh," I groaned, letting my head slump forward. "I don't-" I began.

Dione quickly forestalled me, though. "Here's what we'll do," she insisted. "We'll go out tonight, find you a handsome hunk of man and you can get your own pay back."

"I can't," I mumbled. The thought of being touched by someone other than Mitch just seemed weird. It had only ever been him; how could I begin to imagine myself in bed with another man. "I don't...It's not going to make me feel any better," I stated.

"Alright, alright," she soothed, her fingers gently squeezing my leg reassuringly. "Why don't we just go out then, girl's night? Or better yet," she excitedly gabbled. "Let's get away for a little while. You, me, Karly and Vegas."

Karly was the third of our group of close friends. She had initially been introduced to Dione through work and the three of us had quickly forged a close bond. Karly, like Dione, was single and happy to be so. She made a living as a wedding planner, and was never one to turn down a party.

"Just us girls," Dione continued, beginning to be thoroughly sold by her own idea. "We'll get your mind off everything."

"What about the kids?" I argued gently.

"Your folks would watch them for a little while, wouldn't they?"

They undoubtedly would. My parents had been complaining about not seeing enough of their grandchildren; I felt sure they'd jump at the chance. Still though, did I really want to fly down to Vegas as if I hadn't got a care in the world?

"You stood by him when he was building up that business," Dione pointed out. "You went without vacations, 'cause you guys couldn't afford them, and now he's thanking you by running off with some slut." Pushing her tongue against her front teeth, she shook her head. "Honey, it's your time to have a little fun."

Her words fueling my anger, the tears in my eyes suddenly went dry. She had a valid point. I'd support Mitch when times were tough, we'd got through it together and now he'd made a success of the company...so, this was how I was being repaid for my loyalty? No, no, I wasn't going to take that lying down.

"Let's do it," I stated assuredly, with a curt nod. "And I'll tell you somethin' else, it's going to be Mitch's treat."

# Chapter Three

After picking up the kids, I went straight home and booked our flights and a three-bedroom suite at the Wynn...all on Mitchell's credit card. As I'd expected, my parents were only too eager to take the kids for several nights, and with everything settled, I hurriedly packed a bag.

The following evening, Karly, Dione and I landed in Vegas and were soon in a cab on our way to the hotel. I had never done anything quite so impulsive in my life, and I was beginning to forget the nightmare I'd left behind.

The suite was extravagant, with panoramic windows that offered views of the brightly lit strip. Each of the bedrooms contained a king-size bed, with plentiful plush pillows and cream colored bed linens.

Karly and Dione were thrilled with the place, strolling through the rooms, they assessed the stock in the bar and the springiness of their respective beds.

"Wow, this place is great," Karly breathed, walking to the large windows and sweeping her long red hair from her face. "Remind me to thank Mitch next time I see him," she chuckled.

I smiled in response, but the mention of his name brought a wave of melancholy that I could well have lived without.

"Come on," Dione excitedly uttered, as she practically bounced from her bedroom to the living area. "Let's get down to the casino and play a little."

"Sounds good to me," Karly concurred quickly. "You up for it, Hollie?" she asked.

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged, trying to keep a brightness in both my face and my voice. How successful I was, I'm unsure. The girls were so thrilled, I'm not sure their perceptive skills were up to much. Nevertheless, I had come to have a good time, and a good time was what I would have – even if I had to force myself to.

The three of us quickly showered and dressed before heading down to the casino. Soon, we were sucked into the noise, the crowds, and the flashing lights of the slot machines. Dione suggested we go off and play some black jack, and I instantly offered to buy some chips with Mitch's card.

After winning the first couple of hands, we figured we were on a roll and pushed more money onto the table. A few hands later, our luck had shifted, yet for some reason, win or lose, we were still having fun. The smile on my features was no longer forced and I even found myself laughing.

"See," Dione said, grinning. "I told you this was a good idea."

"Yeah," Karly agreed, draping one arm around my shoulders and the other around Dione's. "I'm glad we did this. We should do this sort of thing more often."

Eventually, tiring of black jack, we headed to the roulette table, where we got talking to a married couple in their thirties. Rick and Lise were from California, and were, judging by the size of the bets they put down, very wealthy. They were also very friendly, and talked easily with us between spins.

"You know," Rick grinned, "we're having a party later tonight up in our suite. You girls should come."

"A party sounds like fun," Karly quickly replied.

"Oh, yeah," Dione agreed, nodding as she nibbled on a small plate of corn chips she'd bought to stave off her hunger. In truth, we were all becoming ravenous, and were keen to leave the gambling tables in favor of a dining table.

"Great," Lise nodded, looping an arm around her husband's waist and kissing his cheek. "It's pretty casual; wear whatever you want; bring whatever you want."

"Yeah," Rick chipped in. "And if you want to invite any other friends, feel free. It'll all kick off in two hours or so," he added, checking his watch as he spoke. "So, any time after that, come on up to the Fairway Villa."

"We'll do that," Dione assured him.

With that, we left the roulette wheel and made for the restaurant. Over dinner, I quietly mused over the impending party and wondered whether I really wanted to go. Then, I suddenly tried to remember the last time I'd been to a party. It had been over a month before, and it had been one of Mitch's company events, which meant I stayed sober so he could socialize with his colleagues. Recalling the night, I wondered if I'd met _her_ : Mitchell's 'other woman'. Chances were good he'd come across her at work. Had I talked to her that night, did she know who I was, and had she the gall to look me in the eyes?

"Something wrong?" Karly asked, nudging me from my depressing moment.

"No," I quickly uttered. "No, everything's fine. I'm just thinking. I'm not really in the mood for this party."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Dione cried. "You are coming with us, and there'll be no arguing that point."

"Maybe I'll just go back to the room," I offered quietly. "I'm feeling pretty tired."

"No way," Karly said.

"Absolutely not," Dione concurred. "I promised you a vacation to take your mind off things, and that's exactly what we're gonna have."

"If you ask me, you need a few drinks in you," Karly pointed out matter-of-factly. "Everything looks better when you've got a drink or two inside you."

I did try a couple more times to decline the invitation. However, my friends would not let it drop.

"We're in Vegas!" Dione eventually sighed. "You've got let whatever happens in Vegas happen. Hell, we've got this far by flying by the seat of our pants, right?" she asked.

Accepting that, I nodded.

"And we've been having a good time, right?"

Again, I nodded. Although, if I were truly honest, my 'good time' was being marred by the constant thought of Mitchell in the back of my mind – everything seemed to remind me of him. Even when I was doing something in revenge, like paying for the trip with his money, I couldn't entirely enjoy the moment, because there he was, never leaving me in peace.

"Come to the party, Hollie," she added, pleading.

Somewhere in the depths of my brain, I knew that drinking was probably not the best idea. However, it was the only thing I could think of that might just numb the pain. I needed to forget – perhaps some alcohol, some good music and a few dances would provide all that.

"All right," I sighed, nodding. "Let's do it."

# Chapter Four

Rick opened the door to his suite, and the sound of Outkast's 'Hey Ya!' drifted into the hallway. With his shirt unbuttoned halfway, he grinned at the three of us and stepped aside, clearing a path into the room.

"Welcome, ladies," he shouted over the loud music. "Make yourselves comfortable. Help yourselves to champagne, or anything else you want," he urged, pointing to the large curved bar in the corner of the spacious suite.

However, my focus didn't dwell long on the fact his room was twice the size of ours; with white leather couches, sheepskin rugs and tinted windows that spanned the entire length of one wall. Instead, my jaw dropped open slightly as I took in the sight of Lise on one of the couches, her tongue tangled with another man's.

Curious gaze moving back toward Rick, I noted that he was watching the pair kiss with an odd smile on his face. Then, from a small crowd on a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room, a long-legged blonde sashayed from her friends and approached Rick. Draping an arm over his shoulder, she whispered something in his ear, before he twisted his face and claimed her lips hungrily.

"What the...?" I whispered, dragging my eyes away from our host.

"I don't think this is your average party," Dione chuckled, murmuring the words to me.

Over by the window, there were two very attractive young women; one with long brunette hair that reached the small of her back; the other with a pixie crop of platinum blonde with streaks of vibrant pink. The rail thin blonde reached up to stroke a lock of hair from the other woman's face, smiling broadly at her. Taking a small step forward, the brunette pressed her hourglass figure to the blonde's body and dipped her face. Meeting her halfway, the short blonde lifted her head, and their mouths melded gently together. As they continued to smoothly kiss, their hands began carefully exploring the other's body.

Locked in a tender and passionate embrace, the women were watched by a blue-eyed man with a clean shaved head. Standing just to the left of the blonde woman, he gradually lifted his hand and curled his fingers over the contour of her ass. Breaking from the kiss for only a moment, she cast her eyes back to him and giggled.

Too absorbed by the scene, I didn't realize Lise had seen our arrival and got up from the couch.

"Hi there," she said, greeting us all with slightly unfocused eyes and a girlish grin. "So glad you could make it," she added.

Dione was wearing an amused smirk along with her red strapless dress. Karly, on the other hand, was scanning the room with wide eyes, as if her brain was about to explode. I felt sure the color of my face was matched Dione's dress, and I didn't even know where to put my gaze.

"We only have two rules," Lise continued. "First, no means 'no'," she stated. "And second, be safe."

"Um," Dione grinned. "We didn't exactly know what to expect, so I haven't come prepared."

Amazed that she was actually considering taking part in the "party", my face snapped around to study hers. I had known that Dione was no prude, but this was...well, it was a step further.

"No problem, you'll find plenty of condoms in the glass bowl on the bar," Lise replied, as she motioned casually in that direction. As she did so, the large strong hand of the man she'd been making out with, grabbed her and tugged her back toward him. She chuckled as her back struck his hard chest, while his fingers smoothed around her torso and cupped her breasts.

"I have to get out of here," I whispered, turning on one black, three-inch heel.

Dione's quick reflexes halted me. Before I was able to take a step, she had hooked an arm around my waist. "Where are you going?" she demanded as Outkast faded and 'Striptease' by Danity Kane took over.

"I'm going back to the room," I said, leaning close so I could say the words into her ear and ensure that she heard me.

"Why?" she shouted back.

"I can't..." I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm not comfortable with this," I explained.

"Oh, come on," she chuckled. "It'll be fun. You're gonna stay, right, Karly?" she yelled over her shoulder.

Karly was still fascinated by the spectacles of the room and the twenty-or-so people that occupied it. In that moment, she seemed focused on a man and woman who were dry humping as they danced. Not bothering to twist her face in our direction, she nodded. "Oh, yeah," she smiled.

"See?" Dione stated.

"I'm not saying you have to come with me," I quickly assured her. "I just don't think it's right for me to be here."

"Why not?"

"I'm a married woman," I sighed.

"So is Lise," she argued, laughing.

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head wearily at her.

"You owe him nothing, Hollie," my friend insisted, her features suddenly serious. "He's the one who asked for a divorce, and you can't spend your whole life clinging to something he's already let go of."

"I know that," I breathed. "I'm just not ready for..." Allowing my gaze to slowly move around the room, I discovered the kiss between the women by the window had grown more intense. "I don't think I'd ever be ready for something like this," I told her flatly as my attention returned to Dione's face.

"Don't knock what you've never tried," she urged. "Besides, nobody's saying you've got to hook up with someone. Just stick around and have a drink."

"I don't know," I protested weakly.

"Please, Hollie," she replied, her head dropping to one side and her wavy black hair sweeping over her shoulder.

"All right," I relented reluctantly. "I'll stay for a while, but I-"

"That's all I'm asking," she quickly interjected. "Let's go get a drink," she grinned, tugging me through the cluster of dancing couples and toward the corner of the room.

Karly followed behind, wide eyes continually moving in wonderment.

Fifteen minutes later, with a glass of champagne inside me, I was beginning to feel slightly less warm-cheeked. The ease with which everyone around me kissed and touched each other had started to seem less embarrassing, and, despite myself, it had even kindled a slight spark of arousal in me. It was nowhere near powerful enough to drive me to throw myself at one of the men in the room, but it did cause me to be a little envious of the women who shamelessly could.

Because sex had always been with Mitch, it had always been inextricably linked with love. For me, at least. I didn't know what it was like to seek out physical pleasure in and of itself. I didn't know how it felt to act on the pure desire that could be ignited by a stranger. I had no experience of throwing caution to the wind and acting on primal sexual impulse. And although I'd always assumed I didn't _want_ those things, there was a small part of me that wondered what it would feel like to do something completely out of character. Did I want to be the same Hollie I'd always been? A quiet voice reminded me that, if I wanted to reinvent myself, now was a perfect time to do it.

Nevertheless, long-held fears and self-perception prevented me from doing any more than watching the scenes that unfolded. The main living room was slightly less crowded now, as a handful of couples had left for the comfort of one of the suite's bedrooms. Meanwhile, in the living room, as people became looser, inhibitions and clothes were being shed.

Rick had found himself tugged into the middle of the room by the nubile blonde he'd been kissing. Grinning from ear to ear, she lowered herself to her knees and began unfastening his pants.

Intrigued by how Lise would react to the unabashed display, I tossed my eyes across the room. She was back on the couch; fully clothed, she was laying on her back while the man-mountain she'd paired up with settled between her parted thighs. As he massaged her breasts in both large hands, he kissed his way down her neck. Clearly enjoying the sensation, Lise was not so swept away that she didn't notice what was going on a few feet away from her. Face twisting toward her husband, she watched with a soft smile as the young blonde peeled open Rick's fly and reached inside.

Rick's eyes found his wife's and something seemed to pass between them, but as the girl on her knees freed his erection, his eyes fluttered closed.

Unable to take my focus off the straining, smooth member the blonde held in her hand, I felt my mouth go abruptly dry. Wasting no time, the eager young woman extended her tongue and circled his tip with fervor. Clearly pleased with herself when Rick's hips responded with an involuntary jerk, she wrapped her lips around him and began to gently draw him back and forth.

"Damn," Dione mumbled beside me, her grin growing wide, "that girl sure likes to suck cock."

"Don't you think this is weird?" I asked lifting my voice slightly, so I could be heard over the pulsing beat of a dance track I'd never heard before.

"I think this is hot," Dione replied unflinchingly. "Don't tell me you're not turned on by this, Hollie," she added, peering over her shoulder at me briefly, before her gaze shot back to the middle of the room.

"I...I..." I gabbled quietly, my own eyes moving about me. Where the hell was Karly? Temporarily forgetting the half-question Dione had posed, I scanned the room. Eventually, down a hallway to the left, I spotted the white mini dress Karly was wearing. Being pressed against the wall by a man in a tux, she lifted one leg until her knee reached his hip. Automatically, he looped his fingers beneath her leg before trailing a slow pattern up her thigh.

Had everyone gone insane? Feeling like a spectator at a Bacchanalian orgy, I did the only thing I could do: turned back to the bar and reached for another glass of champagne.

By the time, I had the flute gripped in slightly trembling fingers, I turned back to find that Dione was no longer alone. A tall man, of at least six foot-three, had settled by her side and was smiling down at her. No words were said between the pair, but Dione's grin mirrored his. It was seconds before she had her hands wrapped around his neck and was tugging his head down for a kiss.

And, it wasn't long before the handsome guy was taking her hand. However, she stalled him with soft fingers on his chest.

"Don't run back to the room, will you?" she said, her dilated pupils meeting my face.

"I..." I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Just stick around and soak up the atmosphere," she urged, hurriedly as the man clutching her hand began playfully tugging her away from me. Chuckling, she flicked a flirtatious glance at him before her attention returned to me. "Live a little, Hol," she yelled, before she was pulled too far away to be comfortably heard.

Alone, I warred with what I should do. Neither of my friends would notice if I dashed out of the room and headed back to our suite; they were much too busy. Rich's face was tossed to the ceiling and contracted in pleasure as the blonde continued to fellate him. Lise, on the other hand, was in the midst of getting her skirt hiked up to her waist. So, there would be no awkward explanation to my hosts for my exit, either.

Draining the last of my drink, my mind was settled, I would get the hell out of there. It was foolish of me to even try to pretend that I fit in at a party like that: I felt gauche, ignorant and way out of my depth. My very tame sex life had not prepared me for anything like this. Whether I was mildly aroused or not, and even if my marriage had nothing to do with it, I couldn't be as free and easy with my body as Karly and Dione.

Replacing my glass on the bar, I spun quickly and my shoulder collided with a solid chest.

"Oh," came a breath as the object I knocked into flinched and spilled his drink over his shirt.

"Sorry," I enunciated, peering down at the dampness that had soaked through the cotton of his shirt and was causing the material to cling to his chest.

"It's okay," his deep voice replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I nodded, finally allowing my eyes to move up to his face. "Yeah, I'm fine," I continued, finding evenly bronzed skin, a firm jaw, deep hazel eyes, and short crop of dark hair that was shaved tight to his scalp.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," I insisted. "I'm just...I'm really sorry about your shirt."

"Don't be," he dismissed, lifting an arm with the sleeved casually turned up and flicking his hand. "It's no big deal." Realizing someone behind him wanted to pass, he stepped closer, close enough that I inhaled a fresh citrusy tang that lingered on his skin.

"Tell you the truth," he said, smiling. "It was probably my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." Resting his almost empty glass down, he reached for another, offering it to me.

"No, thanks," I declined. "I was just about to leave."

"Really?" he asked, disappointment causing his smile to falter. "I was hoping we could talk. See, I noticed you from across the room, and figured this isn't the sort of thing you do often."

With a self-effacing shake of my head, I agreed. "Never."

"Me too," he quickly stated. "This is all totally weird to me," he acknowledged. "I was brought up here by a group of friends, and now they're all...otherwise occupied," he stated smiling. "And they've left me feeling awkward as hell."

"Likewise," I uttered.

"So, are you really set on leaving or would you stick around and talk with me for a while?" he asked, offering me the champagne glass once more.

Glancing at the door, then at the man in front of me, I slowly reached for the drink he held. "Thanks," I said, "that sounds nice."

# Chapter Five

For the better part of ten minutes, we struggled to talk over the loud music and the moans and groans of sexual pleasure that resounded around us. He told me his name was Carmine and that he was in Vegas on vacation; in the real world he was an architect...or something like that, I can't remember exactly.

Eventually, after more, 'What was that?' and, 'Say again', then actual conversation, he suggested that we head out onto the large balcony. Grateful for the chance to get some fresh air, and separate myself from the lusty insanity in the suite, I gladly agreed.

The night air had a blessedly cool breeze as we walked onto the large concrete space. Carmine walked smoothly to the patio table and pulled out a chair, inviting me to sit.

"Thanks," I said, lowering myself into the seat and keeping a hand on the hem of my dress to stop it riding up.

With a smile, he sat in the chair next to mine, inhaling a deep lungful of fresh air. Placing both elbows on his legs, he leaned forward casually, before twisting his head to face mine. "So, you staying at the hotel?" he wondered, making polite conversation.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Me and my friends are staying in a suite a couple of floors down."

"Suite, huh?" he smiled. "Celebrating something?"

With a wry smile, I lifted my glass to my lips and sipped gently on the drink that was quickly going to my head. "Not exactly," I muttered.

"How did you wind up here?" he asked, not dwelling on my cryptic response.

"Same as you," I began, "we bumped into Rich and Lise and they-"

I didn't finish the sentence, because a clunk from behind us indicated the sliding doors had been parted. With a drunken giggle a fourty-something woman tumbled out onto the balcony followed by a man who must have been about fifteen years younger than her.

"Oh, sorry," she chuckled. "We didn't realize anyone was out here. Is it a private party?" she gabbled gesturing to me and then Carmine.

"Err, no," he responded, "we were just talking."

"Talking, huh?" she laughed. "Well, we had something else planned."

With a quick nod, Carmine began to push himself from his seat. "Well, we can get out of your way," he offered.

"No, no," she quickly insisted. "You don't need to do that. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. See, I like to be watched," she added, eyes appreciatively moving up and down the length of my companion's body. I could understand the fascination. He was in good shape; broad shoulders, slim waist, and his toned forearms suggested the rest of him would be equally muscular.

Having to quickly remind myself that what he looked like was of no consequence, I tried to shake that train of thought.

"Oh," he nervously uttered, glancing at me as if for help. "Well, we...I mean."

"Please stay," she continued, coming closer and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmine looked at me, requesting assistance. I couldn't offer any. I was too dumbstruck by what was going on.

The woman's younger friend seemed jealous of the attention she was giving the other, broader built man, and stepped forward. Giving her a playful slap on the ass, he reminded her of his presence. She responded by turning around with a giggle and tossing her arms around his neck. She kissed him, as she stepped back to the balcony's rail.

Then, smoothly she turned, pressing her butt to his groin as he continued to hold her hips. With a tipsy smile, she twisted her face to Carmine and locked eyes with him as the man behind her began to roughly pull up her skirt.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the man next to me, broke free of the woman's gaze, but he blinked and seemed incapable of refraining from the inexplicable urge to watch. I felt it, too. I wanted to look away; knew I should. Yet, I couldn't take my eyes off the way the man's hands moved over her body, pushing her skirt up to her waist and revealing the nakedness beneath.

Then, he reached for his pants and unclasped his fly. He too now peered over to where Carmine and I sat, but it was me he focused on. With a mischievous smile, he freed himself from his jeans. His smile grew wider as he noticed my eyes drop a little and stare fascinatedly at the way he stroked his sleek, rigid member.

I hadn't realized that the woman in front of him had ripped open a condom wrapper and was now reaching back to pass him the circle of latex. Without shifting his attention from my face, he blindly took the rubber and, with amazingly well-practiced ease, slipped it onto his erection.

The woman was sliding her feet apart, widening her stance. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Carmine at my side, and as my eyes flicked in his direction. Then, I noticed the very large swell in the groin of his pants.

While the man at the balcony thrust his hips forward and the woman groaned in pleasure as he entered her, my own fingers moved unbidden toward Carmine's crotch. I didn't even realize what I was doing until my palm gently nestled against the hard ridge and felt the raw heat beneath. That warmth flushed through me, heating my chest, my cheeks and my sex.

With intense eyes, his face twisted to mine and his strong hand quickly covered my smaller one.

"Oh, yeah, that's good," the woman squealed.

Breathing through an open mouth, the man at my side swallowed and I watched closely as his throat flexed.

"Ugh, you're so freaking hot," the man by the balcony rail growled.

The masculine groan caused my hand to clench slightly, gripping Carmine's hardness. With the same incautious drive that had prompted me to touch him in the first place, I leaned forward. I kept my gaze on his dark eyes, feeling the pull of them. Gently, I licked my lips, before covering his mouth with mine.

"Argh, just like that," the woman screamed.

As the heel of my hand moved in an unconscious rhythm that stoked my own heat as much as it steeled the object beneath it, I tentatively moved my tongue to Carmine's soft lips and tasted the sweet champagne that coated them.

"You like that, huh?" the man grunted, exhaling loudly as he thrust and their bodies slapped together violently.

Carmine's tongue gently met the tip of mine, before gliding over it and penetrating the chasm of my mouth. With thorough sweeps, he explored me, examining every damp, warm nook and leaving us both gasping for breath.

"I..." Carmine whispered, tipping his head back and allowing me to see just how much darker his eyes had become. "I...don't..." Shaking his head, he blinked in an attempt to collect his jumbled thoughts. "Are we...? I mean, do you want to...?"

"I want to," I confirmed, breathless and with flaming cheeks. "Let's go somewhere a little more private, though," I suggested.

"Good idea," he nodded.

# Chapter Six

Not bothering to check the rooms in Lise and Rick's suite, I guessed chances were good they were occupied. And, even if they weren't, they'd been used recently and that thought didn't appeal to me. Instead, as we walked back into the living area, I grabbed a condom from the bowl at the bar and headed directly to the door.

Soon, we were down two floors, in the suite I was sharing with Karly and Dione. And within seconds, I had dragged him through to my bedroom. As I backed into the room, we continued to kiss; a mixture of tender, exploratory touches and urgent, hungry demanding thrusts of tongues. It was a raw state of passion that I was completely unfamiliar with. It was pure, uncomplicated sex.

As he artfully began to shed my dress, my lips took a more thorough appreciation of his neck, sucking and licking at the taut skin, which tasted of a fresh, clean cologne and a musky masculinity that made the crotch of my panties very wet.

In just my underwear, I stepped out of the circle of my dress and kicked the material aside.

Carmine's hands were at my waist and warm fingers slowly moved up the curve. His thumbs rubbed carefully at the side of my breasts through my bra. His fingers then curled reverently around the globes, taking their weight. Smiling, he bent his head and kissed my sternum. Then, with just the tip of his tongue, he trailed down, exploring the bare skin of each breast's curve.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, nipples tightening and straining for his touch.

He must have felt their hardening, because he quickly drew the pads of his thumbs across the aching nubs, causing me to tremble and moan.

It wasn't enough. With artless, quivering fingers, I reached around my back and clumsily unclasped the bra. As the straps slackened, he calmly took over, slipping them down the length of my arms and tossing the underwear aside while his mouth returned to my bosom.

Starting at the edge of one round mound, he placed feather light kisses on the plump flesh. Moving in ever decreasing circles his warm, wet lips claimed my painfully rigid nipple. My hips bucked in reply and his erection prodded my navel.

Never having experienced such a strong yearning between my legs, I found myself innately rolling my hips and rubbing myself against him. Feeling his lips smile against my skin, as he moved from one breast to the other, I clutched needily at the back of his head, cursing the fact that his dark hair was not long enough to grasp.

His own hands meanwhile, were sliding down my hips, his forefingers gliding easily into the waistband of my panties and coaxing them down. Anticipation burning within my belly like a forest fire, my weak neck dropped and my chin fell onto the crown of his head. Inhaling deeply, I was greeted with a pure, fruity shampoo.

Pushing my underwear down until it reached mid-thigh, he let gravity and me do the rest of the work. With a wriggle of my hips, the lacy panties were soon around my ankles and they, like my dress, were hurriedly kicked off.

The smell of my arousal was thick and aromatic. So much so that it briefly occurred to me to be embarrassed by it. However, when Carmine's head lifted, it was not to make a comment. Instead, he rapidly covered my mouth once more and drove his hot tongue in and out. His right hand, meanwhile, cupped my sex and the tips of two fingers gently coaxed my outer lips apart.

Muffled moans escaped me as his forefinger swept smoothly forward and found my entrance. Carefully, he pushed, penetrating me slowly. Again, I groaned, but the sound was obscured by the presence of his lips on mine. Whole body tingling, I jerked, pulling him deeper.

Understanding my need, he introduced a second finger and gradually moved both back and forth in deliberate, measured thrusts. As his expert, solid fingers moved within me, he curled the tips, stroking the spongy front wall of my sex and pressing on a spot that made every inch of my body shake.

Not ceasing that delicious massage, he broke free from my mouth and smiled down at me. "Are you ready?" he asked, bright eyes gleaming with desire.

Gasping and hoarse, I haltingly replied. "I've been....ready...since we walked in," I told him honestly.

"You're so beautiful," he stated softly, his gaze moving slowly over my nakedness as his hand slowly disengaged from me.

I groaned at the loss of him, causing his smile to broaden as his attention moved gracefully to the buttons of his shirt. Reflexes a little slow, I was a second behind in joining his efforts. My fingers were also awkward, and I tugged at the fabric with ungainly desperation. Finally though, his chest; sleek and hard, was bared to me. I instantly leaned forward to worship its perfection with my mouth.

He giggled ticklishly as my tongue traced one pebbled nipple, and I smiled in reply. While his right hand cleverly unbuckled his belt on its own, his left hand swept to my face, brushing strands of mellow mocha hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek. He squirmed as he shimmied his clothes off his hips, but it didn't stop me from sampling the warm, bronzed skin of his tight, chiseled chest.

What ultimately did stop me was when he once again pressed his body to mine and I felt the scorching heat of his generous manhood rub against the top of my hip. Head darting up, the throb of want between my legs pulsed in harmony with the pounding of my heart.

"You okay?" he asked, his left hand gripping the square of foil I'd taken from the party bowl upstairs.

"Yes," I told him huskily, watching the dextrous movement of his fingers as he tore the wrapper and removed its contents.

"I want you," I said, sucking in an erratic breath.

"I want you too," he said, his deep voice rumbling off the walls. He made short work of sheathing himself in the condom, and once he'd finished, he smiled broadly. Placing kind hands on my waist, he took a step forward, guiding me back a pace.

The backs of my calves almost instantly met the bed and I let Carmine's sure fingers direct me downward until I was sitting on the mattress. Once there, on the soft, cream outer bedclothes, I quickly scooted back, kicking off my shoes and lifting my feet.

Effortlessly, he moved in perfect synchronicity, lowering himself onto the bed and nestling between my thighs as I parted them in all too impatient welcome. With his shoes still on, there was not much opportunity to remove the clothes that still hung around his ankles, but that fact bothered neither one of us.

Resting the bulk of his upper body on his hands, which were placed either side of me, he made subtle movement of his hips. I was eager to feel the pressure of his rigidness, and reached between our bodies. However, he did not need me. Without the guidance of my hand, the thick, rounded tip of his latex-covered member had found me.

Softly smiling as he felt the swell of my entrance, he peered down into my obviously flushed face. "This isn't something I've ever done before," he said quietly.

Arching my back a little, I closed my eyes as a tiny fraction of him slid into me. "Hmm," I groaned, gripping my bottom lip between my teeth. "Well, you certainly seem to know what you're doing," I told him.

"No," he chuckled, drawing in deep breaths through his mouth as he held himself in careful control. "I meant, I've never done this with a stranger before," he explained.

"Likewise," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as my legs curled intimately around his lower back. "But, I've never wanted anyone as badly as I want you, either."

"Oh, Hollie," he exhaled, bending his elbows and bringing his face down to mine. "You smell so good," he mumbled, his lips close to mine. "So sexy," he added, before kissing me tenderly.

"Argh," I groaned, hips writhing beneath him. "Please," I whimpered, "I can't wait any longer."

Before the strangled plea had left my mouth, his hips were moving fluently forward. Eyelids fluttering closed, his features were serene as he seemed to relish every twitch and subtle clench of my body as it consumed his.

I let out a quiet, frustrated sob, disappointed that he hadn't filled me with a strong, firm thrust. However, as he gradually moved within me, I too began to appreciate the unhurried way his rock hard shaft requested and my own softness immediately granted. My body was so incredibly wet that our joining seemed effortless. He slipped carefully inside, my sex drawing him deeper and deeper, until his blunt point gently bumped my cervix and his hilt nestled against my plump outer lips.

The fit was perfect, he filled me completely.

"Ahh," I moaned, releasing the contented sigh as I felt the delicious pressure of his hard pubic bone against my engorged clit.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his sweaty temple pressed against my cheek and his warm lips tickling my ear.

"Better than okay," I groaned, rolling my hips and shivering as sparks of pleasure shot through me. The tingling of my core; the teasing ghost of an orgasm caused me to clamp my legs more firmly around him. "God," I gasped as my shifting altered his angle, causing his shaft to press against new and previously untouched parts of me.

"Hollie," he panted, his own hips gently rocking in counterpoint with mine. "I need..." he breathed. "I need to..."

He didn't have to finish. It was obvious that his urge to thrust was becoming more powerful. The backs of my calves were draped over his buttocks and I could feel the anxious clenching in those large muscles.

"It's all right," I told him on a whimper.

"Ugh," he groaned, beginning to shift back. As slowly as he'd entered me, he withdrew, leaving just the bulbous tip at the very cusp of my entrance. Then, much more suddenly, he drove forward.

I reflexively opened my mouth, clamping it onto his shoulder as he filled me with an exquisite forcefulness that filled my lower lids with tears of pleasure. Sobbing wistfully, I bit gently on his skin.

"Jesus," he hissed as our bodies met with a clap of skin that was beaded with perspiration. "Damn, Hollie," he added, his dark voice reverberating against my chest and filling me with even more desire.

I was close. I didn't understand how he'd brought me to that point so quickly, but I knew without question that blinding, soul-quaking ecstasy was almost within reach – I could practically taste it. My clitoris, so sensitive to the pressure of his body, was throbbing violently and I felt sure he must have been able to feel it too. Meanwhile, the feeling of completeness with his rock hard erection buried deep within me was prompting spots of bright light to skip across my eyelids each time I blinked.

"Again," I begged, even as he was moving rhythmically from me once more.

This time, his lips took my lobe between them and sucked it greedily into the heat of his mouth as he rammed home.

"Argh," I cried out, tossing my head back into the pillow. His chest, hard and heaving was brushing rapidly over mine, spurring my pleasure by inadvertently massaging my still craving nipples.

He continued to nibble ardently at my ear, his tongue flicking around the shell. "Yeah," he whispered, the word mumbled.

The hands I held at his back, gripped him, nails digging into the sleek skin. "More," I urged, my body convulsing instinctively and arching to meet his.

"God," he grunted, mouth leaving my ear and upper body lifting as he forced almost all of his weight back onto his fully stretched arms.

Blinking, I looked up at his cheeks tinged with pink, his slack jaw and the undressed voracity in his obsidian eyes. He gazed at me with ravenous desire that stirred an ache in my belly. And then, he moved.

Purposeful, passionate and primal, his hips jerked back and slammed forward.

As my depths were speared with his animalistic vigor, my brain began to falter. Sex intensely clenching his rod, my lips parted and a released a deep primitive cry that was like no sound I had ever made before. With blood racing in my ears, my entire body tensed and spasmed in turbulent movements I could not have prevented even if I had attempted to. "Ahh, ahh, ahh," I exhaled on short sharp breaths, my lungs burning with the need to inhale but seeming unable to do so.

That beautiful warmth, brightness and power rolled through me in all-consuming waves, as Carmine continued to give me the entirety of his impressive length with steady, strong drives.

The orgasm lingered, sometimes fading only to surprise me when it crested once more and elicited a scream of pleasure from the pit of my stomach. It would be impossible to say how long that glorious sensation lasted. I do know it was the most intense and inexhaustible climax I had ever experienced.

Eventually though, Carmine's own excitement mounted beyond his control. His features stiffened and his body lurched with less mastery than he'd held over it before. His breathing coming in indescribably masculine groans, he jerked within me and exhaled a whispered, "That was incredible."

And then, suddenly, our bodies both stilled. Like a drowning woman, I gasped deep lungful's of oxygen and continued to cling to him with trembling arms and legs.

Both overwhelmed, we remained that way for several minutes, before he recovered enough to lift himself from me. Dropping heavily onto the mattress by my side, he turned his face toward mine.

I, meanwhile, was staring dumbstruck at the ceiling, wondering how it was possible for me to not have known it could be like that.

"Are you okay?" he quietly asked, hand lifting to my face and sweeping a strand of hair off my sweaty brow.

"Oh, yeah," I sighed, smiling. "Never better," I chuckled.

It was the first time I'd had sex with anyone other than Mitch – and I hadn't thought of my husband once the entire time. At no point had my brain made any comparison, I had simply enjoyed Carmine, as though those moments with him existed entirely separate from anything and anyone. And, I suppose, that's because they did.

For the first time in three days I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. And, throughout the night, I wore a silly smile that flatly refused to be removed from my lips.

To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

### Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Love in Vegas" series.
Taken By The Rancher

by

Lacy Hyde

#  Chapter One

Longing

Kristin sighed as she considered the brochure LeAnn placed in front of her. The vacation would be a great deal of fun, but with everything on her plate right now, there was no way she could take the time off. Regrettably, she looked up at her best friend. "You know I miss the country, LeAnn, but I just got the new campaign build for Roger-Smith on my desk Friday. That's going to eat up all my time for weeks. I'll be working overtime, and there's no way I can take a vacation in the middle of a project like that with a promotion on the line."

LeAnn leaned over the table, pushing the coffee cups to the side and pointing at the picture of the ranch house on the cover. "Come on, Kristin, this looks so much like that childhood home of yours you talk about. And it's only a week. I mean, we could stay longer, but give it a week. You have far too much stress on your shoulders, and I think it would really help you get it together for this big project."

But LeAnn didn't understand. As an image consultant, LeAnn assumed they were both in the business of PR and marketing, which was true. But LeAnn didn't have the negative image of women in the industry to overcome that Kristin did in a big marketing firm. At Morrow-Waves Marketing, one of the largest firms in New York, it was cutthroat, and because so many men were so much more aggressive and ruthless about getting the job, women tended to suffer. She was one of the three women outside the secretarial pool, in a company of nearly two hundred executives. The odds weren't in her favor.

If she took vacation in the middle of a deal that would be one of the biggest accounts their firm landed, she would be a joke. Besides, she prided herself in her work, and she didn't have much else to bank on in life. "I just can't, LeAnn. It wouldn't feel right." She stared longingly at the brochure. A week at a real working ranch, with a chance to do 'dude ranch' work really tore at her heart. If LeAnn were trying to send her on a guilt trip, she'd succeeded.

With a sigh of resignation, LeAnn threw her hands up. "I give up. You're doomed to collapse under the weight of stress, but I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." She stabbed at the last of her pancakes; her perfectly manicured nails are bright orange today and her sunny blond hair in a perfect coif at the nape of her neck. Her no-nonsense suit was black with white pinstripes, and the flash of orange blouse beneath was a perfect match to her nails, as were the pumps on her feet.

Kristin Jenkins envied her best friend. Because of her chosen career path, LeAnn Hardwick met knew people everywhere she went. She rubbed elbows with models, actors, singers, CEOs, and other pretty, rich people that she only made prettier. But then, LeAnn had grown up in the outskirts of LA, near Hollywood. The environment had given her a down-to-earth perspective on life but put her head in the clouds as she watched the Hollywood starlings from a distance.

Kristin, on the other hand, had been raised on a small ranch outside Dallas, and she had lived a very humble life. She'd never worried about her looks or her mannerisms until she'd met LeAnn in college. Four years at Berkley with LeAnn had changed her entire perspective, and she'd started dressing to look the part of the marketing director she wanted to be – and had become over the last ten years. But being so far behind the scenes of corporations didn't allow her the contacts and prestige LeAnn built, and she was often in the shadows of rich, old men who weren't so easy on the eyes and didn't much care about how Kristin looked, as long as she made them money. She hadn't made a lot of friends over the years, but she'd built a career that was going strong.

"I'm not going to give in," she assured LeAnn, though she'd already spent most of the weekend fretting over the new account, which was the entire reason she'd called up her best friend for lunch today. LeAnn was her rock, the only person in her life who kept her sane. "I'm going to work my ass off and land it, and then I'll be promoted to VP instead of director."

"I truly hope you're right. But remember, the offer is on the table, if you change your mind." LeAnn winked, sliding a piece of paper that read 'The Offer' onto the table. Kristin had to laugh; her friend's humor was quirky, dry, and ridiculous sometimes, but it got her through life, and she was sitting on top of the world.

Folding the piece of paper into the brochure, Kristin left the money for the bill and the tip on the table, and the two of them left to shop. It was a routine. They didn't get together for a meal or coffee unless they went on some extravagant run through town to buy a pair of Gucci glasses or a Michael Kors purse or some other such nonsense. And Kristin loved every minute of it, despite the fact that her bank account was half the size of LeAnn's. She'd still done well for herself so far, and because she was frugal most of the time, she had the cash to blow on these rare occasions.

This time, as they parted ways – LeAnn returning to her swanky apartment in Soho and Kristin heading to the edges of Manhattan and her tiny loft apartment that cost a fortune, but was right around the corner from her job, Kristin had a hard time returning home alone. Something was weighing on her, tearing at her in a way she didn't understand, and being with LeAnn provided comfort for her. As she looked around her apartment, she wasn't unhappy. She'd decorated, made it home, and she loved the neo-kitschy look of her place. But what it had in luster didn't make up for what it lacked in livelihood. Kristin hated admitting she was lonely, and she kept telling herself that, one day, after she made it big in her professional life, all the personal life details would fall in line.

She simply hadn't seen the fruits of her labor yet. It was only a matter of time, and she had plenty of that. She was only 31, after all, and look how far she'd come already! Women were getting married and having families later and later, and Kristin was in excellent health. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her still.

Deciding to enjoy what would likely be her last full day off for a while, Kristin quickly picked her outfit for tomorrow morning, made her Monday morning smoothie and put it in the fridge, and then took a relaxing bath before donning her favorite silk pajamas and lounging on the couch with some snacks while she watched reruns and reality TV for the rest of the day.

***

Kristin tried to remain focused as people passed her small office, carrying boxes with their personal items and wearing stoic or despondent expressions. She kept her head down, glancing only out of the corner of her eye as she counted. This time, the layoff hit six people in her department. Last week, there had been seven.

Kristin was glad to have the Roger-Smith account because she felt it offered her job security. This was her project, and the last three weeks of putting in sixty-plus hours a week was going to pay off when she landed the account. But her drive stemmed from more than her own job and promotion now. The firm had lost two significant accounts in the last month, leading to these layoffs, and the entire firm needed this new contract to survive.

One thing was for sure – the pressure was immense, and though she'd told LeAnn and everyone else time and again that she could handle it, Kristin was not in a good place. The stress caused her to barely sleep and lose weight.

Taking a deep breath and drinking from the cup of coffee that was now cold, she plowed ahead, determined to walk into the huge conference room this afternoon and wow the partners at the firm with her creativity. From there, she'd get the approval to put the final tweaks in place so they could present it to the client on Monday.

She took her lunch break to run home and change, wanting to look thoroughly professional in front of the rest of the board. Kristin wanted that 'VP' title in front of her name, and she wanted the company to get out of the red before they lost any more people. In a navy skirt suit with white pinstripes and a white collar, topped off with a pair of sensible white flats, a silver necklace with a white opal pendant and matching earrings, and her mass of black curls piled on her head in a neat but loose bun. Kristin liked the image in the mirror and added just a touch of bronzer and a hint of coral lipstick.

Glasses in place and briefcase in hand, she entered the room with confidence amidst corporate moguls who were not going to be easy to convince that she was the 'man' for the job. But with a fool-proof agenda that touted an in-depth look at the market, as well as a complete creative redesign of a failing ad campaign and projected gains for the client, Kristin felt prepared for anything.

As she set up her presentation, the men around her settled into the chairs around a long conference table and watched her work, coffee mugs in hand. Kristin knew that the quiet muttering among them was likely snide remarks about her potential and what kind of drivel she was going to give them. That was fine; it would make her feel all the more superior when she awed them.

For the next 45 minutes, Kristin commanded the room, all eyes on her, and several heads nodding agreement with her strategy. She knew she had them as she turned off the projector and flipped the switch to restore the overhead lighting. They muttered amongst themselves, and she thanked them and exited the room with her materials, heading to her office to await word on their decision. This was the worst part, and she truly just wanted to hear the resounding approval and polish off the presentation for the client.

Feeling giddy, Kristin texted LeAnn, telling her how well it had gone and that this was in the bag. LeAnn's vote of confidence of _I knew you would!_ as a response made Kristin stifle a giggle. She was so enthused and anxious she couldn't sit still, and when her phone beeped, she practically vibrated with joy. "Kristin, can I see you in my office please?" came the voice of Jordan Meeks, the VP who had assigned her the task of putting together the proposal.

"Yes, sir, I'll be right in." She tried not to sound overly bright or confident, but there was a definite spring in her step as she hurried toward Mr. Meeks' office. This was her opportunity, and she felt like she was walking the red carpet now, ready to accept her reward.

The door was cracked, but she knocked anyway before entering, her manners demanding attention to protocol. "Have a seat," Mr. Meeks told her, gesturing to the chair facing him from the opposite side of his desk. The office was huge, with lots of leather and old wood, and Kristin found herself thinking about how she'd decorate an office this size. With the bonus and raise she'd get with a promotion, she could certainly afford to be a little extravagant in her décor choices, but she didn't much care for the stuffy feeling this sort of theme presented.

"Thank you for your presentation today, Kristin. It was professional, and I could tell you put a lot of work into it," he began, pulling at the sleeves of his Armani suit with a stoic expression.

A red flag went up in Kristin's mind. She'd seen him fidget with his suit before, and nine times out of ten, it was when he delivered bad news. "Thank you, Mr. Meeks. I've spent hundreds of hours on it, and I truly believe it's the right strategy for this particular client. As I said in the meeting, I project at least a fifteen percent increase in profits over the next year based on the campaigns."

"So I heard," he told her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes as they finally fell on her. "Your input is very much appreciated, Kristin, and the firm has chosen to put your proposal in front of the client next week. It should help significantly in the recovery of our profit margins, should the client accept."

A wave of relief washed through Kristin, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from squealing in triumph. _Be professional._ "That's wonderful, sir. I'll put the finishing touches on it, and I promise I won't let you down."

But his eyes were hard now, and Kristin gulped. "Kristin, we're unfortunately unable to have you present this. I hate my job at times like this because you have been such an incredible asset to this company. The work you produce is phenomenal, and were it my decision, I would have you up there with confidence and poise, selling us to these guys. However, based on the numbers we've run and the position this company is in, we're still under the gun to cut costs. I'm afraid the board has decided to let you go."

_Go where?_ Kristin couldn't process the meaning behind his words immediately, and she had to wonder where exactly she was going. "I'm not following, sir," she said, her heart fluttering with panic.

His scowl did nothing to reassure her. "I'm sorry, Kristin, I fought to keep you on. Your salary is one of the highest for any of our directors, and while I feel you are worth every penny and more, I couldn't save you from this round of layoffs. It was decided this morning, before the presentation, and I wanted to tell you then, but my associates wanted to wait."

Kristin would have fumed that they'd used her to get the advertising strategy for such a big account, but she was too focused on the personal crisis this created. She didn't just work to live; she lived to work. She _was_ this job. There was nothing else in her life, and without it, she couldn't afford to add something else.

"Mr. Meeks, I can take a pay cut. I really need this job, and you know I'm willing to work harder than anyone else in this company." She hated the plea in her voice.

"I know that, Kristin. But a pay cut isn't enough, and I can't stop what's already been put in action. I have your dismissal paperwork here." He reached for a manila folder on the corner of his desk, glanced at what was inside, and passed it across to her. "You'll find a somewhat generous allowance, with your health insurance remaining intact for the next three months at no cost, as well as a month's compensation in the severance package, plus the payout of accrued vacation time and the value of your stock options as of today. You also have access to either take out or roll over your retirement fund."

Kristin's hand shook as she grabbed the folder, opening it to peruse the information inside. "I assume it's time for me to clean out my office and walk down the hall of shame like everyone else, with nothing but a box in my arms to show for the years I spent here." She didn't even try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

"I'm very sorry, Kristin. I've got you at the top of the list, should we be able to reinstate some of the people we've let go. I think the company is doing itself a disservice by letting you go, but it's out of my hands." His eyes were sincere as he told her, "If you need anything, call me. I'll write letters of recommendation or help in any other way I can." He passed her a business card with his personal cell number on it, and Kristin assumed that was her dismissal.

Like a zombie, she grabbed an empty paper box from the mailroom, carried it to her office, and dumped all her personal belongings in it. She gazed around the empty closet-sized room one last time, logged out of her computer, and sighed. Refusing to show any emotion, she didn't speak to anyone on the way out, and she held her head high as she stepped onto the elevator and headed out to her car.

Shoving the box in the trunk, she drove on autopilot, making a stop for coffee, and went home. She didn't unload the items from the trunk, simply going in and running a hot bath. She couldn't remember the last time she wasn't facing a deadline, the last time she got the opportunity to just relax without obligation. Kristin wasn't one to relax or let go, and she'd have to find a goal to focus on if she was going to stay sane. But for now, she knew she was in shock, and she couldn't focus at all. The best thing to do was to act like a normal person. Other people would wallow in self-pity and pamper themselves until they felt better. So, that would be her goal, at least for today.

# Chapter Two

In Boredom We Trust

The shock wore off quickly, and boredom set in. Kristin couldn't force herself to continue down a path filled with manicures, facials, and bubble baths. The euphoria most people felt in those treatments only reminded Kristin that she was jobless, hopeless, and had been used. With the boredom came the anger. Rather than getting her just desserts for all the diligent work she'd put in, all the creativity she'd shared, Kristin had been jilted out of her promotion, as well as the prestige of sharing the products of her mind.

And it hadn't stopped there. She'd been shunted, her entire livelihood stolen, and she had no prospects for the future. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Morrow-Waves was a big company, and their only true rival was Everett Sales & Advertising. Everett had approached her at least five times over the past three years with a proposal of their own, but in her stupid morals, Kristin had clung to her loyalty with Morrow-Waves. They'd given her a start, and she'd advanced quickly there, breaking records for women in the company. She'd thought it would be a lifelong career, that she'd retire from the company.

_Dream on._ There was no such thing as loyalty and job security in the workplace anymore. It was cutthroat, dog-eat-dog, and 'fair' didn't even make it into the Dictionary of Business Practices these days. It actually felt good to turn on her personal laptop and find the last recruiting email she'd received from Everett S&A and forward her resume back with an inquiry as to whether or not there was still an open position with their company. If she was lucky, she could recover most of her salary and a bit of her pride by getting a position that would eventually lead her back to the role of director.

But what was she going to do in the meantime? Kristin couldn't sit here and twiddle her thumbs, couldn't just read or watch television. It wasn't her style. And she wasn't ready to dive in and search for a new career right now. She'd start making inquiries with other firms when she was done fuming about her current position.

She slammed the laptop closed and folded her arms in frustration. The movement scattered papers on the desk, and something heavy floated to the floor. Scowling down at it, she saw the brochure LeAnn had given her. Prescott's 'Slanted' _P_ Ranch. Kristin snorted. She hadn't even visited her parents' land in nearly three years, preferring to work with her family for a neutral meeting ground halfway between for holidays. Last year, she'd booked them rooms at a resort in Nashville, and they'd had a 'Grand Ole Opry Christmas'. She'd been thinking about Boulder this year; she hadn't been skiing for nearly a decade.

She reached down and picked up the brochure, flipping the pages and frowning. It looked pretty legit, which meant she'd actually be on horseback again, mucking out stalls, and other nonsense. It might be refreshing, and it wasn't like she had anything else to fill her time. Of course, with the layoff, she couldn't guarantee she could afford to spend money on a vacation. Certainly, she'd land another job easily, between credentials, experience, and reputation.

Still, she couldn't stand the idea of being in her apartment, no matter how swanky, for the next several weeks. She needed a break. At this point, her lack of work was causing as much stress as her penchant for being a workaholic, and she remembered LeAnn's admonishment about taking time to live her life. It irked Kristin that she was buying into that, considering her complete focus should be on maintaining her career before she lost her edge.

At the same time, if she took this trip, she'd likely be so glad to come back and get her hands dirty that she'd dive into the application and interview process. She carried the brochure to the kitchen, phone in her other hand, as she searched the packages and prices. Everything seemed reasonable; the cost wasn't extravagant, and the accommodations weren't stalls in the stables or anything.

She put everything on the counter, poured herself a cup of coffee, and bit her lip. Maybe some manual labor would give her enough focus to clear her mind, sort of like meditation, and she could start fresh when she came back. Before she could change her mind, she speed-dialed LeAnn, who answered on the first ring. "Hey, you, how are you? I was worried when you didn't call, and I was about to come by and see if you were still alive or if you'd given yourself a heart attack."

Feeling the familiar rise of her anger, Kristin took several deep breaths as she prepared to hit her best friend with the news. "I got laid off. Oh, they kept my proposal and I hear they landed the account, but I'm toast."

"No way! What bullshit!" LeAnn was truly offended for her, and that was one of the things Kristin truly appreciated about her friend. They felt each other's pain, and they had each other's backs. "Are you applying elsewhere?"

"I have a couple of prospects," she said vaguely. "Listen, LeAnn, I was calling because...is it too late to take you up on that ranch vacation? I think I need a change of scenery for a few days."

"Seriously? You're coming?" LeAnn sounded like a tea kettle simmering and ready to let out the ear-piercing sound as it boiled. "Oh, please tell me you're not joking!"

Blowing out a breath aimed at removing a strand of hair from her eyes, Kristin told her, "I don't want to spend forever there. I have a limit, especially since I have to get back on top of finding a job and a way to afford to have a life. But I think a week on a ranch might clear my head in this early-life crisis I've hit." That's really how it felt. She was being forced into completely reconfiguring her life with this whole job change. She just hoped a vacation would make the transition a little easier.

"Give me ten days. That's really a week, with an extra weekend. The ten-day package is only a hundred more than the week package, and the flights are actually cheaper because of the days we'd fly, so it offsets the difference. Plus, we don't get to do the river rafting if we only go for a week." LeAnn was talking a mile a minute, and it made Kristin's head spin. "I promise you won't regret it, and we'll have a blast. Come on, we haven't done anything like this before, and even if you grew up on a ranch, I bet this will be a completely different experience."

_Doubtful._ "Fine. But I better not get a wakeup call at four in the morning to milk the damn cows. That was the one chore I hated because it was far too early, and I never managed to go back to sleep afterward."

"Oh my god! Okay, I'm going to schedule your flight and book your stay. Just write me a check or something, and you can give it to me when we get to the airport." LeAnn went silent, which usually signaled a question. Kristin could almost hear the rusted wheels turning in LeAnn's head. "Wait, what's the weather going to be like in San Antonio in two weeks? I want to pack accordingly."

Kristin smirked. "Hot. And hotter. But you don't want shorts for horseback riding and ranch activities, so jeans, and not the designer kind. Short sleeves are best, and no sandals or heels, LeAnn," she added with a warning tone. She knew LeAnn far too well and would have been mortified to show up with someone in flip-flops and cut-offs to a working ranch.

"You got it! I'm going shopping. I'll text you all the details." LeAnn hung up, and Kristin was left standing in the kitchen, shaking her head. Taking a deep breath, Kristin realized she'd probably need to buy a couple of things for the trip as well.

# Chapter Three

Traveling Band

Kristin sometimes forgot how personable her best friend was, but as they stood in line to board the plane, she listened to LeAnn banter and laugh with other passengers, networking and exchanging business cards. _Not a bad idea, considering the current employment situation._ But Kristin couldn't bring herself to get that deep into conversation with anyone.

She didn't know why her nerves were so on edge. This was going to be an easy time for her. She'd been a natural growing up, and working on a ranch was like riding a bike, something you never forgot how to do. And she'd flown plenty of times in her life; it wasn't the air travel that bothered her. So why couldn't Kristin just relax and enjoy being on vacation?

"Excuse me, I'm sorry." Kristin winced as the man in line in front of her hit her knee with a hard case he carried. She looked up into his youthful, blushing face. "I didn't mean to hit you, miss. I'm just nervous, and that makes it nearly impossible for me not to twitch."

She gave him a cordial smile. "It's alright, I'm not made of glass. What's in that thing, anyway? Bricks?" She pointed to the hard case with a frown.

"No, it's my drum kit. Well, it's the brushes and sticks and everything. I checked the actual drum set, which only makes me even more nervous about all of this." He held out a hand in greeting, and Kristin shook it, finding his palm sweaty. "I'm Nate."

"I'm Kristin. I take it you're in a band."

He nodded vigorously. "The rest of the band rented a van, but I had a final to take before I left, so I decided to fly. I should have sent the drums with them, but we're playing our first big show, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I wanted to mess around a little more with a couple of drum solos." His smile quirked crooked and boyish, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks.

If Kristin had been seventeen, she would have been in love. He was an adorable kid, and she found herself regretting not taking advantage of her youth for something less structured, like playing in a band or taking acting or dance lessons. Hell, she could have spent more time crushing on kids like him, with silky brown hair falling over his forehead, reminiscent of the Beatles in the early days. If interest in the band was based on looks, and the rest of the members looked anything like him, they'd hit the Billboard Charts in no time.

"I'm sure you'll be amazing, Nate." She rolled her eyes internally, realizing that being in marketing had created habits she would never break. _Repeat names whenever possible; it makes the conversation more personal and shows interest, which creates a better environment for a sell._ Kristin wasn't trying to sell anything, but she couldn't help her customary acknowledgements.

They eventually moved forward, whatever blockade had obstructed the way removed, and she drew her small rolling carry-on behind her, while Nate lifted his case over his head. Kristin turned to see LeAnn flirting with the guy behind her, a man with broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair above light green eyes and a smile that was all about getting into LeAnn's pants. Of course, he had on an expensive suit, the cut of which Kristin recognized as Perry Ellis, and LeAnn had a weakness for money, especially when it came to businessmen.

"We're moving," she called to her friend, and this time, Kristin's eye roll was external as the man carried LeAnn's tiny bag for her. LeAnn batted her eyelashes and gazed up at him seductively without shame. Kristin didn't understand, though there were times she'd been that obvious in her intentions. She hadn't been interested in many men, but the two or three times she'd wanted action or at least attention, she'd clammed up irreversibly and been a prisoner of shyness. She couldn't equate that to the woman who could give presentations to some of the most ruthless men in business, but nonetheless, it was true.

Finally stepping onto the plane, Kristin filed slowly down the center aisle, watching the row numbers and stopping at fourteen to take her seat. She shoved her rolling bag in the overhead compartment and tucked her small 'personal item' at her feet, clicking the seatbelt around her waist. She was in the window seat, which meant no one needed to slide by her, so she could settle in quickly.

It was better this way, she thought, as LeAnn took the aisle seat. Her best friend would be actively engaging with other passengers, while Kristin simply wanted to close her eyes and listen to music. She watched LeAnn giggle and tease people, thinking how miserable it would have been if she'd been in the center aisle, with LeAnn leaning over her and around her constantly. Relieved to be out of the line of fire, Kristin took her phone and her ear buds out of her bag, turned it on, and leaned back with her eyes closed as the music filled her ears.

She laughed, the first song all too close to home. She loved classic rock, and Creedence Clearwater Revival was one of her favorites, but after meeting Nate, it was quite a coincidence that her randomizer chose 'Traveling Band' right away.

With a smile still on her face, Kristin wasn't pleased to feel someone nudge her elbow. She opened one eye and peered at LeAnn. "Can I help you?" She paused the song so she could hear the response.

"Are you going to sleep already?" LeAnn pouted.

"I'm not sleeping, I'm relaxing. I believe you were the one who suggested it would be a good practice for me."

LeAnn's shoulders fell. "Well, here." She passed over a business card, which Kristin considered with a deep scowl. "That guy's looking for a marketing manager for his firm. I told him I had a perfect candidate and told him a little about you, so he wants your resume as soon as you have a chance to send it."

Feeling terrible for being so snippy when LeAnn was only trying to help, Kristin tried to let her gratitude show with a pleasant smile. "Thank you, LeAnn. I'll email it over as soon as we land."

Satisfied, LeAnn turned away, and Kristin was left to her preferred solitude. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the music, as they ascended to cruising altitude.

Kristin was awakened to the jerk and force of the landing. She gulped, realizing she was back in Texas, a place she'd avoided for the better part of five years. It wasn't because she didn't love home; actually, her love of the state was the reason she'd kept away. After college, she hadn't gone back, with big dreams of success in New York. She'd followed that dream wholeheartedly, and she knew that, if she went home, she'd be torn. The heat in the air and the stretching plains with sharp winds and incredibly beautiful spring thunderstorms would have called her home and made it nearly impossible to leave a second time.

The good news was, San Antonio was far enough removed from Dallas-Fort Worth to assure she wasn't likely to run into anyone or anything that would be too much of a temptation.

In Kristin's opinion, the only part of flying worse than boarding a plane was waiting to exit. There was always some jerk in the back hollering for everyone to hurry up and some drunk guy in first class taking his dear, sweet time falling all over himself as he tried to collect his things and go. Stuck in the middle, Kristin sometimes just wanted to send out an electrical wave that would mute everyone's thoughts and tongues, turning them into zombies who just followed instruction to file out so that it was organized and quiet. It wouldn't cause permanent damage, only keep them in line until they got into the airport. Then, they could bellyache all they wanted while Kristin made her way in peace to baggage claim.

LeAnn finally ended a conversation that sounded as if it had been going on the entire three-and-a-half hour flight and led them out of the row, down the aisle, through the jetway, and into fresh air that filled Kristin's lungs as she breathed deeply of it. Now, though, LeAnn was in a hurry. "You're crawling, Krissy! Let's get our bags and get on our way!"

With a patient grin, Kristin shook her head. "There's no point. Our luggage won't appear on the little conveyer belt for at least another fifteen minutes. At my pace, it'll take about ten to get there. We'll still have to wait. If I 'hurry' with you, I'll be listening to you complain about waiting the entire time."

LeAnn huffed but slowed down, her motions jerky as she fought to hold back. It made Kristin smile, and when they reached the conveyer belt, which wasn't yet moving, she had to hold back a chuckle as LeAnn scowled, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. The impatience was adorable in some ways, annoying in others, and today, Kristin wasn't going to let anything more bother her. She could almost feel the heat seeping into her bones already, the hot Texas sun beating on the roof of the airport. It was invigorating, and it incensed her own impatient reaction, making her want to get out of the air conditioned building and smell the air.

The belt began to turn minutes later, and within half an hour, Kristin and LeAnn had their bags loaded on a luggage cart, headed to the curb to catch a cab to the ranch. A hint of a smile curved Kristin's lips as they left San Antonio International Airport, took the 1604 loop west, and exited to leave town behind for the gently rolling hills of Central Texas.

# Chapter Four

What a Surprise

LeAnn gasped as she stared out at the brilliant green under the light blue cloudless sky. "I don't think I've ever seen anything this pure and untouched," she whispered in awe. "I thought you told me everything got fried in the Texas sun, all brown and withered."

"It does. They've had some rain lately, and it's helped stave off some of the worst effects of the sun, but in a few weeks, all of this will be yellow and dry. Trust me, I've seen it year after year." She was glad, though, that everything was blooming for once. It made for a lovely drive and a much happier prospect in terms of weather in the days ahead.

The cab turned off the road onto a dirt path, under a sign that stretched above, declaring the name of the ranch and attached to the fence that cordoned off the property. The vast, open space was flanked by a line of trees at the edges on all three sides, the dark green of which was a perfect backdrop to set off the huge white house that sprawled amidst several outbuildings, many of which were nearly as large.

The car stopped in front of the house, where there were several people milling around, most with luggage much like Kristin's. As she opened the door and stepped out, the sounds of the country comforted her above the muttering of the gathered guests. The horse paddock was somewhere nearby, snuffles and whinnies the loudest noises, with pigs, sheep, and cows more distant. Kristin ached to go exploring, all alone, but she had a feeling that wasn't allowed, and she would have to wait for the grand group tour.

"I'm glad you told me what to wear," LeAnn muttered in her ear. "Some of these girls look like they're going to be in trouble pretty quick." She gestured toward a young woman, maybe five years their junior, wearing shorts that barely covered the essentials with a tank top and flip-flops, exactly what Kristin had told LeAnn to avoid.

Kristin sighed. Some people just didn't get it. The woman was probably from Florida and thought this was going to be a lot of posing and taking pictures, like going to the Caribbean and having a picture taken with a monkey or a Macaw. She was going to be sorely mistaken, literally.

The group's attention shifted, everyone turning as the door to the house opened and a man with a cowboy hat and red plaid shirt and jeans stepped out. His back was to them, and Kristin waited to see their host, Mr. Prescott, presumably. As he turned to face the small crowd, Kristin felt the blood drain from her face, and she quickly ducked behind LeAnn, trying to hide and still keep the man in view. This wasn't possible!

"What are you doing?" LeAnn moved and turned toward her, but Kristin grabbed a handful of the back of her friend's shirt, forcing LeAnn to stay in front of her. "Kristin, what kind of game is this?" She slapped at Kristin, annoyed, but Kristin just took it, her eyes wide as she stared at the owner of the Slanted P Ranch.

Dale Prescott.

"Just stay here," Kristin hissed through her teeth. "I can't believe this."

"Can't believe what? What the hell is wrong with you?" LeAnn's voice grew louder, despite Kristin's attempt to shush her, and she knew it was pointless to try and hide, since several faces were already turning their direction in curiosity at the commotion. Now, Kristin's cheeks were hot with her humiliation, and she turned away before their host could get a good, solid look at her. All she could hope was that, when he did finally see her, she'd be just another face in the crowd to him.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, listen up!" Kristin flinched at the familiar voice, and LeAnn tried to get her to turn around, but she adamantly refused. "Welcome to the Slanted P Ranch. I'm Dale Prescott, and I'll be your host for the next ten days, or as long as you decide to extend your stay. I'm not gonna brag, but we tend to have a lot of people book a few extra days, not quite ready to exchange the dirt under their nails for the grit up their asses in the city."

Several people laughed, including LeAnn, who leaned over and whispered, "You've got to see this guy, Krissy. He's drop-dead gorgeous."

"I'll look later," she hissed irritably. She was well aware of both Dale's charm and his looks. She doubted he'd changed much over the years, considering how easily she'd recognized him, which meant he had broad shoulders, a strong body, and angular face, and eyes the green of early spring moss.

"Over the next few days," he continued, his voice like chocolate silk and booming, "you'll learn how a ranch works. It's a vacation, but not like any vacation you've taken before. I'll teach you to enjoy the labor, love the animals, and feel the countryside in your bones. Not everything will be a task. We've got the lazy river, horseback riding, and social events, but you'll also be milking cows, sheering sheep, and learning how to break a stallion."

It sounded amazing, but Kristin couldn't wrap her head around the fact she'd be with Dale Prescott the whole time. She listened as he finished. "I've got about ten ranch hands that'll handle a lot of the training with me, including my cousin, Rob, and his wife, Shelly. Right now, we're going to hike over to the public accommodations so we can check you in and get you to your rooms. Once you're settled, meet up in the lobby. You'll be taken to the mess hall for a big dinner and introductions."

As the group began to shift and walk toward what appeared to be a rustic bed-and-breakfast style facility, Kristin caught sight of Dale, making his way to the head of the group, guiding them down the trail. With him facing forward, away from her, she felt more comfortable following along, and she hung back toward the edges of the group, keeping a distance in case he looked back.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" LeAnn demanded, her frustration crackling in the air. "You're acting like a damn fool."

Kristin sighed. "I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just get to our rooms, and I'll be better later." She doubted she would, but she had to say something to get her friend off her case. To her great relief, it was a woman checking them in and passing out keys.

Kristin stepped up to the counter, and woman gave her a sincere welcoming grin. "Hi, I'm Shelly. Welcome to the Slanted P. Your name?"

"Kristin Jenkins." She spoke quietly, looking over her shoulder and feeling paranoid as she checked to make sure Dale didn't hear her.

"Excellent. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jenkins. You'll be staying in room 112, adjacent to your traveling companion, Ms. Hardwick. The two of you will share the restroom directly across the hall with Anna Shillings and Trish Markham. Towels and washrags are stored in the closet adjacent to the bathroom, and if you need anything else, feel free to ask. You'll find coffee and snacks stored in a pantry in your room, as well as additional blankets and pillows. Do you have any questions for me?"

Kristin shook her head. "It sounds like everything is covered. Thank you so much." She took the key to the room and stepped back, finding a corner to wait in while LeAnn went through the process, and she couldn't help but cast stealthy glances at Dale. She'd been right; he looked very much the same, though his face had filled out with maturity, and he was all the more handsome for his manner of dress. The ranch life suited him, a bronze tan accenting the angles and planes of his face, which was shadowed with a day's growth of dark hair.

He looked up, and their eyes locked. Kristin's breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat, but Dale merely gave her a courteous nod with a genial smile before looking away and starting a conversation with an employee. He hadn't recognized her, and that made Kristin infinitely more comfortable. Perhaps this was going to be a relaxing vacation after all. With keys in hand, she and LeAnn shuffled down the hall toward their rooms, bags in tow.

# Chapter Five

On the Hook

The 'mess hall' was a big country-style dining area that reminded Kristin of the restaurant Nelly ran in Little House on the Prairie. The food was amazing – homemade biscuits and gravy, tender chicken fried steak, and buttery potatoes and green beans. She elbowed LeAnn, who picked at her food and avoided the meat. "Get off the California kick. If you're going to survive the week, you can't be a vegan. You'll need the protein."

"Why didn't you tell me we'd be living off grease and cow?" LeAnn grumbled, finally forcing herself to cut into the steak. She popped the bite in her mouth, and her expression changed completely, suddenly a mask of pure ecstasy. Her eyes closed, and she chewed slowly.

Kristin giggled at her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed red meat."

"This is better than sex," LeAnn breathed after swallowing. She dug in now, giving Kristin a warning glance. "Don't you dare repeat that, and don't tell anyone I climbed off the wagon for a few days."

"It's not like you kicked a drug habit and had a relapse, LeAnn. Relax," Kristin told her. "What's the big deal?"

"Cholesterol, salt, the inhumane way cows are murdered." LeAnn ticked the reasons off on her fingers.

Kristin snorted. "It's funny, you didn't seem to care about any of that in college."

She grunted. "My industry cares, so I care." She popped another bite. "But not this week."

The staff lined up against the wall for introductions, and the room grew quiet. When they finished, Dale stepped forward. "As you finish your grub, take a right around the corner, and go into the banquet hall. There's dessert and drinks waiting so y'all can get acquainted with one another."

Instinctively, Kristin kept her head down until he and his crew filed in the direction he'd given, and she faced LeAnn's determined stare as she glanced back up. "Okay, give it up. You have some sort of issue with Mr. Prescott. Spill the beans, sister, or I'll ask him what the story is."

"Don't you dare!" LeAnn's eyes sparked, and Kristin sighed. She hated when her friend goaded her into giving up information. "I knew him in school. He doesn't seem to recognize me, but it's just weird running into someone from the past like that, especially since he's here, with a ranch, and I'm jobless." It was a good enough explanation. She didn't care to share the minute details.

"He doesn't have to know that," LeAnn told her. "If he does remember you, just talk about your career like you're still with the firm. No one's going to know the difference. Besides, it was a layoff. It's not like you were fired."

It was true, to a point, but it still left Kristin feeling like a failure. And because that wasn't her only embarrassing fact when it came to Dale Prescott, it offered little comfort. Finishing her food, she wiped her hands and face and waited the few minutes it took LeAnn to finally devour every bite on her plate. Together, they got up and headed toward the banquet hall, where a few other guests were already streaming in.

"Let's get some punch," LeAnn suggested, nodding toward the table across the room. Kristin was searching to find Dale, but he was nowhere to be seen, so she followed her friend. She dipped out a cup and drank, the mixture coating her throat and cooling her from the inside out. She turned to gaze around the room, taking in the other guests as they entered, and she felt LeAnn move up behind her. Turning to talk to her friend, Kristin gasped, meeting a solid wall of man and locking eyes again with Dale Prescott.

His smile was devastating as it crept across his lips, crinkling the corners of his intoxicating eyes with humor. "Hello, Krissy."

Her throat closed, and she couldn't speak for a moment. He was literally two inches from her, and she stared up at him in fear and a sudden twist of interest. Neither one suited her purpose, and she tried to swallow them both as she found her voice. "Hello, Dale. I guess you recognized me after all."

His eyes twinkled, an unsettling effect that made it hard to breathe. "How could I not? You've hardly changed, though you're even more beautiful than I remembered." He shrugged. "I didn't want to make a big deal in front of all the other guests, but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you, either."

_That was too bad._ Forcing a timid smile, Kristin told him, "I had no idea this place belonged to you when I signed up. You've done well for yourself." She gestured around at his place. "This ranch is beautiful, and I can't wait to see more of it."

"Thank you." He cleared his throat and gave her a searching look. "Where did you disappear after graduation? There were a few graduation parties, but you never showed, and I guess you left in a hurry."

"I started college during summer semester, with accelerated courses." Kristin's blood pumped loudly in her ears, and she felt awkward, despite the ease with which Dale engaged her.

"You always were an overachiever," he commented with a boyish grin. "Listen, we'll have to do some catching up while you're here. There aren't a lot of people I care to recall from high school, but we had some good times. I had hoped to see you at the reunion."

Now, Kristin blushed. "Like you, there weren't many people I missed, so I certainly didn't feel the need to traipse all the way back to Dallas from New York and use up my vacation time to paste on a fake smile and pretend they were old friends."

He chuckled. "Damn straight on that one." He touched her arm, and Kristin's skin tingled beneath his hand. "It's really good to see you, Krissy. I missed you."

The words crept up her spine and sent a shiver coursing through her body. She took a step back, putting more space between them and sipping her punch before responding. "I'd love to catch up with you."

He seemed satisfied. "I'm going to greet the other guests, but I'll get back around to you in a bit, okay?" Kristin nodded as he walked away, and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

LeAnn reappeared suddenly, and Kristin seared her with a hot stare and asked, "Where did you go?"

LeAnn raised an accusing eyebrow. "I thought the two of you needed a little space. There were rays of chemistry shooting in all directions around you." She shook her head. "When we go back to the rooms, you're going to dish out all the details of what that was all about. I knew you were holding back earlier! I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," LeAnn said jokingly.

_So help me, God._ And she'd need the assistance from upstairs, if anyone was listening, when she recounted those gritty details to her best friend.

# Chapter Six

Digging Up Bones

"I met Dale just before Christmas break my senior year in high school," Kristin told LeAnn as they sat cross-legged on the bed in her room. She felt like a kid again, powwowing and divulging secrets. It was refreshing, despite how mortified she was at the entire situation.

"Was he that attractive in high school?" LeAnn asked, obviously a little taken with Dale.

Thinking back, Kristin had to smile. "He definitely was. I mean, to a teenage girl, he was. Now, I'd much rather have the more mature package." She sighed. "Anyway, it was a bit of a whirlwind. We dated for about a month, spent New Year's together, and had one amazing night of sex. But that was all. By Valentine's Day, we'd just...stopped talking. We'd say hi in the hallways and at parties. But when we graduated, he was dating Emily Goodall, and I left for NYU two days later."

LeAnn gawked at her. "So, what, you just sort of drifted apart? There was no break up or reason why it didn't work out?"

Kristin had never really thought about it, but now that she looked back, she, too, wondered why they hadn't worked out. Those few weeks had been short and spun her head, but she remembered being incredibly happy. It wasn't love; she'd been too young for that. But it had been absolute bliss, and had her path in life been different, it might have become love. But that seemed like light-years ago.

"I don't remember what happened, really. I know that, when we went back to school, we went out a couple more times, and he walked me to classes for a while. But he had track, and I was working on the yearbook committee. We didn't have any classes together, and I guess 'drifted apart' is the right way to put it."

LeAnn threw her hands up in exasperation. "That's ridiculous! You know, he's not married. You should remind him that, technically, you're still together and take advantage of that heat in his eyes when he looks at you."

"Oh, please, you're so dramatic." The fact was, Kristin had no intention of reminding Dale of any of the details of their fling. There were several of those details she would rather forget. "It's been more than twelve years, LeAnn. And I'm sure, with all the people that come through this place on an annual basis, he can pick one out of every crowd to eyeball. And at least one out of every three of those is going to fall victim to his charm." But even saying it felt wrong and made Kristin's chest hurt. High school flings were better left in the past, but it didn't seem possible to bury her past deep enough to keep the more determined dogs from digging up the bones.

She shooed LeAnn out of her room at long last and crawled under the covers, tossing bags and wrappers to the floor and vowing she'd clean them up tomorrow. She was much more a morning person, which meant she'd be better off getting to sleep now and actually functioning properly tomorrow.

***

Fitful sleep and nonsensical dreams made Kristin feel like she was in Wonderland the next day. Everything seemed surreal as she stepped out in the bright early morning sun, dressed in sturdy jeans, a rugged T-shirt, and her faithful old snakeskin boots. She'd had them for more than five years, had them resoled once, and they were in excellent condition. It was already hot, promising a scorcher, and she tucked her mass of hair into a ponytail and then clipped it atop her head to leave her neck bare. She squinted, reminding herself to dig out her sunglasses later today, as well as her sunblock. She now followed a very zombie-like LeAnn back to the mess hall.

If dinner had been delicious, breakfast was divine, with bacon Kristin knew had been cured right here on the farm, eggs fresh from the chicken coops, and raw cream for the coffee. She refrained from giving the details of freshness to LeAnn, who perked up as she shoved the 'fat pig and cow' into her mouth, knowing she'd likely freak out that none of it was processed, labeled, and purchased from a supermarket.

As the group finished up, Dale appeared from what she assumed was the kitchen, wearing a dark green T-shirt that made his eyes look supernatural. Kristin's breath caught in her throat, and she heard LeAnn's low whistle of approval just before he clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. Kristin forced herself not to look away as his eyes landed on her. Dale turned away, ready to address the group, but she had the sensation he was still looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"Okay, folks, today's adventure begins with a little education. We're going to head to the stables in a few minutes. You're going to learn how to properly saddle and bridle a horse, and then we're gonna get you all on a horse. Can I get a show of hands for anyone who's never been on horseback?" Kristin looked around the room and groaned inwardly as several hands shot up and several more came up slowly, as if the admission embarrassed them. LeAnn was one of those.

Kristin blinked at her and leaned over to whisper, "You've never been on a horse?"

LeAnn's eyes glittered with excitement. "No, and I can't wait!"

"Excellent," Dale continued, stifling the quiet muttering. "Half and half is perfect. We'll split into two groups after we saddle up. One group will go with Bobby and learn the basics of riding a horse, using the reins, and sitting comfortably before you head down the trail. The other half will come with me, and we'll take the experienced trail." Was it Kristin's imagination, or did he look straight at her as he said that?

It brought back an unbidden memory of being with him on her parents' ranch, taking Maximus and Primus, two of her Appaloosas, for a ride out into the woods. While there, they'd stopped and had what had perhaps been the most epic make out session of her life. Something low in her belly heated, and she had to swallow a sudden twinge of longing. She hadn't felt that kind of desire in so long it was foreign, and it frightened her.

"When we get back from our rides," Dale continued, cutting into her thoughts, "we'll go through how to clean and brush a horse, how to clean the tack, and how it's stored. By that time, you're all going to be pretty hungry. With the horses in their stalls, Wesley will have the barbecue ready to go in the large corral, and we'll get our grub on and talk about the evening."

Kristin could almost feel the protest that went around the room. While she didn't necessarily think the majority of the guests were lazy, she knew for a fact they didn't understand just how much work went into running a ranch. They were ready to complain about a couple of lessons in caring for a single horse, when in actuality, there were usually no more than two trainers and anywhere from five to twenty horses in their charge. Personally, this assignment was a blessing, and Kristin welcomed the task. Horses had been her passion and her main charge on her parents' ranch, and it was the one thing she missed in New York. She would never complain about working with horses and only hoped Dale kept an Appaloosa or two in his stables, those being her biggest weakness.

***

Kristin mostly tuned out the lesson on saddling and bridling a horse. It was old hat for her, and instead, she studied the group surrounding her, looking confused as they studied what Bobby and Dale were doing. A few nodded, getting the picture, while some were bound to fall, not quite understanding the way a horse would push out its belly to keep the saddle from being properly tightened.

As each person was directed to a stall – Kristin counted somewhere around twenty-five stalls in just this stable and knew there was another one behind this – she stepped in front of a gorgeous white and gray Appaloosa named Rocky and fell instantly in love. She offered her hand so he would get used to her scent, and he nuzzled it instantly, snorting and snuffling in greeting as he nodded his big head. She smoothed her fingers over his long face, and her soul settled, as if Rocky ate her stress for breakfast. "Hey, there, Rocky," she cooed softly, turning him side to side to inspect him more closely. He had to be eighteen hands, at least. "We're going to be best friends, right?"

LeAnn leaned over from the next stall, curious. "Mine won't come to the front of the stall. She's got her ass shoved into the back corner."

"I'll be right back, boy," Kristin told Rocky, patting his muzzle, and she scooted over next to LeAnn. Sure enough, the dappled chocolate Hungarian Warmblood twisted its lips nervously and backed against the stall. She glanced at the name on the stall – Bessie – and held out her hand, palm up. "Hey, girl," she spoke softly. "Come on, Bessie, come say hello." To LeAnn, she muttered, "You can't be intimidated, or intimidating. You have to be gentle, open, and firm, or one of two things will happen. They'll fear you, or they'll think you're afraid and bully you."

She turned back to Bessie, who'd taken two hesitant steps forward. "Come on, girl." She motioned for LeAnn to hold out her palm in the same nonthreatening way, and slowly, Bessie made her way up to the front of the stall, sniffing them both and finally holding her head down for them to pet her. "Now, remember, firm but gentle," Kristin said as she moved back to Rocky, who was watching her around the corner with giddy eyes.

"You're a damn horse whisperer, aren't you?" LeAnn chuckled.

Kristin wouldn't claim that, but she'd always had a good handle with horses, felt naturally drawn to them. She opened the door and led Rocky forward, taking the saddle Bobby had placed behind her on the saddle horse and making fast work of readying Rocky. He behaved well, and she only had to wait a few seconds for him to breathe out so she could pull the belly strap tightly enough. She heard LeAnn grunting and moved around Rocky to see what was wrong. Putting her hand to her mouth to cover her laughter, she watched as LeAnn worked to tighten the strap, only to have it slide back and forth as she tugged.

"Wait for me, Rocky," she instructed, slapping his side hard and getting a quiet whinny in return. She moved over and helped LeAnn, showing her how to hold the saddle and pull the belt strap at the same time. When it was tight, LeAnn pulled away, and Kristin told her, "You're not done." At her confused look, she grabbed LeAnn's hand, placed two of her fingers between the strap and Bessie's belly, and waited.

"It's perfect," LeAnn said, just before Bessie snorted and huffed. Her belly shrank, and the strap loosened. Kristin smiled and pulled the last few inches tight, leaving only room for LeAnn's two fingers. "Oh."

"They do it every time." Kristin reached for the bridle and coaxed Rocky's head down, getting it over his head and into his mouth with just a little extra force. She led Rocky out of the stable, ready to go, and found herself tying him to the fence so she could help several other clueless guests with their saddles. There simply weren't enough hands to go around, and she desperately wanted to get on the trail. As the last few people struggled with the task, she was too irritated to continue and stepped out into the grass. She put her foot in the stirrup and swung up on Rocky's back, the scent of him filling her nostrils and her body instantly becoming one with the horse's.

She didn't even mind as Dale rode up right next to her and stopped. "What do you think of Rocky?" he asked, reaching over to run a hand along the horse's mane.

"He's beautiful and well trained. He didn't give me any grief. It's unusual for his breed." This was her comfort zone, and Kristin could ignore everything else that rested in the past between her and Dale, as long as they kept the conversation here.

"You know you're the one who gave me this idea, right?" She stared at him in amazement, and that charming smile crept slowly over his face, making Kristin's heart stop again. "I fell in love with your parents' ranch, and your horses changed my life. Rocky's my fourth Appaloosa, and he's the first one that hasn't been a complete nightmare to train."

Kristin laughed. "They're too smart. That's the problem. And they're arrogant and stubborn. With most horses, it's a dominance thing. With these babies, it's about love and respect," she said, running her hand down Rocky's neck. She motioned to his shiny black Mustang. "You like to live dangerously, I guess."

As if he knew what she'd said, the horse shook his head and snorted, pawing the ground defiantly with one hoof. "Blaze is a good boy, really. He just likes to surprise me every once in a while by breaking into a full gallop without me asking first."

Remembering that ride they'd taken, Kristin was shocked at his comfort level with the horses. Of course, ranching had become his business, his livelihood, but she would never have expected Dale Prescott to become such a rugged cowboy...and to look so incredible in that position. She closed her gaping mouth before she embarrassed herself by drooling. She'd been honest with LeAnn; in high school, she'd found Dale insanely attractive, just as she did now. But as an adult, and with a memory that brought everything back like it was yesterday, Kristin's urges were stronger. She could guess at the body beneath the clothes, having seen the perfection of it once before and knowing that the years of hard work in the sun had likely only improved the tone and build of his muscles.

"Hey, Krissy, did you find what you were looking for in New York?" The question was wistful, and it threw Kristin off balance, Rocky skittering slightly until she reined him back in and soothed him.

Trying to figure out how to answer, Kristin blinked at him several times. "Well, I didn't really know what I wanted, other than to go to college. I did that, and I landed a solid career that I adore, so I guess I did eventually find what I was looking for." She hesitated. "Are you finding what you want in life?"

He shrugged. "I have the ranch, and that's fulfilling. I've got friends and built-in family here." His eyes clouded, and she was reminded of how the sky turned green before a tornado struck. "I think I'm still searching for something, though." He didn't say what, and the group of experienced riders had gathered around them, so she didn't ask. Instead, she followed him out, with the rest of the group trailing behind as he took them into the woods behind the main house.

# Chapter Seven

Just Like Old Times

It felt strange being separated from LeAnn, considering Kristin's best friend was the entire reason she was on this journey in the first place. Being without her reminded Kristin too much of being on sabbatical, a quest for self-approval. But she found she only had a few minutes to rest in her angst, Dale kicking up the conversation again about ten minutes into the trail.

"It looks like everyone in this group knows what they're doing," he mused, and Kristin glanced behind her, nodding in agreement. While some of the riders were less comfortable in a saddle than others, everyone had obviously been on a horse before. As she faced forward, Dale asked, "What is it you do in the Big Apple?"

Gritting her teeth against the urge to spew at the mouth about her disgruntling job loss, she thought back to LeAnn's word. He'd never know the difference if she referenced the job as if she was returning to it in nine days. "I work at a large marketing firm, with our clients ranging from shoe manufacturers to law firms. In fact, I just finished a proposal for a huge account with a high-end retail clothing manufacturer that owns several brands."

"That's impressive," he responded sincerely. "Was your intent to get into marketing?"

"I started out with journalism, but it wasn't creative enough for my taste. So, I made that my minor and majored in marketing. I discovered I had a knack for it, and I interned at my firm. They hired me as soon as I had my degree." Sadness swept through her as she realized she'd made herself at that company and was still being forced to start again.

"You grew up on a ranch, Krissy. Don't you miss grass and trees and clean air?"

She laughed, the question relieving her inner pain. "Spoken like a die-hard Texan. And yes, sometimes the concrete jungle isn't enough. But I'm happy. If I'm craving greenery, there are parks. I live blocks from Central Park, you know." Teasingly, she asked, "Don't you miss the convenience of the corner store and the hustle and bustle of Dallas?"

He made a face. "Hell, no! If I think for a second I want to drive into the city, I head up the road to San Antonio, and I ultimately get reminded of how much I hate the city as I get stuck in a traffic jam. I prefer the company of horses and people who aren't in such a damn hurry." He shook his head, slowing down as some of the others passed them, following Shelly and Rob toward a brook Kristin could hear bubbling close by. "I like nature. I always did. I just didn't realize how much until the day we took your horses out for a spin. I decided then what I was gonna do and never looked back."

"Never?" Kristin had waffled about her career choice all through college and had only settled with it halfway through her junior year, when it didn't make sense to start over with a new major. Of course, it had been prosperous for her, and she loved it, but she had questioned it more than a few times.

He stared into the distance, his eyes focused on some distant memory. "I only questioned it once, and it was only a little hiccup. Once that was gone, I was bound and determined to succeed, and I've worked my ass off to get here." He sat taller in his saddle now, a sign of pride, and Kristin smiled. "My parents had saved for my college fund, and the day we graduated, they gave me a check for $40,000. I got scholarships and loans, and I worked through college to pay the rest. I invested that money and doubled it in five years. Of course, eighty grand doesn't buy anything like this." He gestured around him.

"How much land do you own?" Kristin asked before she could stop herself.

"One-thousand acres, give or take a few." She stared at him, awestruck, and he smiled. "But I started with ten. I bought the land the house and the stables are on for practically nothing. Out here, everyone wants to build theme parks or grow crops, and the soil isn't any good for that. We had enough amusement parks nearby. So, the land was dirt cheap. I took a deferment on the student loans and used the rest of the cash to collect materials to build while I kept working another year. Two years after college, with my brother's help, I'd built the house and a small stable, and we rescued a couple horses. We worked with them and trained them and started with nothing more than a place people could bring their kids for a quick ride down a trail or to take a lesson or two."

Kristin noticed that they were far behind the group now, and she grew a little anxious. She wanted to catch up, but then, it wasn't like Dale didn't know his own land, especially since he did this every day. Telling herself to relax, she took several deep breaths and asked, "How long have you had this whole gig up and running?"

He made a face, obviously doing the math. "It's been about four years since the last time I bought land and blasted a trail. We got the pigs right after that. I was turning a good profit as I built the place up, but the real investment came from a risky little venture in the stock market. I bought some volatile stocks, and in a few months, the value tripled. I was lucky. I could have lost my ass in that. That money went a long way in shoring up this place. At that point, the bank loaned me the rest."

Kristin had never even considered taking that kind of risk. At the same time, she'd never thought about holding that kind of money in the palm of her hand, either. Intrigued, she ventured, "I guess you have to make a killing to pay on the school loans and the bank loan."

He chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't call it a killing exactly. I mean, I managed to pay the bank back within two years. And my school loans finally stopped hanging over my head two years ago. I own the land, the house, and everything else I built outright, so aside from the cost of living and running a full, working ranch, everything is profit. And since we use our own chicken, swine and dairy products, sell what we can at market, and have a deal with the slaughterhouse so we keep our own meat, even that cost is minimal."

It was the American dream, Kristin realized. This entire place was self-sufficient, and Dale simply chose to buy and sell a lot of things. It was what her parents had wanted and never quite achieved. She joked, "I guess in the Zombie Apocalypse, I know where to come. You've got everything you need right here."

He nodded. "Mostly. I'm trying to figure a way to get some of this damn red clay to grow corn, wheat, and cotton. If I can, and I buy up the rest of the land to the west, we'll truly be a fully functional ranch with no outside needs. Then I can bring in some vigilantes in case of the apocalypse to man the fences." He laughed, but as he turned to face her, pulling his horse to a stop, his eyes were serious. "You'd be more than welcome here, Krissy."

She swallowed hard at the expression on his face, wondering why it was so intense. Kristin wanted to crawl in a hole and hide from that look, but she kept her shoulders squared, despite the anxiety building in her chest and the wild, rapid heartbeat that threatened to split her ribcage in two, so the pump that fueled her body could burst forth.

Meeting his gaze fully, she told him, "I'd never make it here. The zombie virus would spread through New York like rabies from sewer rats, and I wouldn't get out of Manhattan before I was sucking brains." She meant it as a joke, but it was probably true. The conversation was ridiculous, but she'd grown up around people who really believed in the possibility, and there were more than enough Hollywood action movies that presented realistic scenarios. Hell, she was a Walking Dead fan herself. And without Rick or Glen to bust her out of the city, she didn't stand a chance.

Maybe if she had Dale with her...

That random thought was irrelevant, and she pushed it aside as he chuckled and told her, "I'm sure you could get behind some big tough guy with a machine gun and good aim." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his horse's neck. "I can't imagine any guy refusing to help someone with a face as beautiful as yours."

The blood rushed into Kristin's neck and face so quickly she felt lightheaded and inhaled sharply. Dale's mossy eyes beat into her, assessing her with interest and something she couldn't quite place. "Dale, I—"

"What happened, Krissy?" he cut her off, urging his horse closer to hers. She stared at him, knowing what he meant but not wanting to acknowledge it. She pressed her lips together in determined silence, but he pushed. "We were good together, happy. We had fun. What happened?"

Kristin still didn't have an answer and used the same cop-out she'd given LeAnn. "We drifted apart, I guess. You were part of one crowd, I was part of another, and we got busy with senior stuff. We were both looking forward to bright futures, but we were looking in different directions. We lost track of each other."

He shook his head. "No, Krissy, I never lost track of you until you disappeared right after graduation."

The intensity in his voice turned it into a low growl, filled with emotions Kristin didn't want to analyze. Blowing it off, she scoffed, "Come on, Dale. You started dating Emily, and you were the star of the track team. You set records for the school. You didn't keep up with what I was doing."

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "And I'm guessing you know all that because you weren't keeping track of me, either?"

Kristin scowled. "I worked on the yearbook committee. It was my job to know those things so you'd be properly recognized for your accomplishment."

He made a clicking sound with his teeth and tongue, looking more and more like the rustic cowboy from a Louie L'Amour novel, and it took every bit of Kristin's strength not to swoon at the sheer masculinity he exuded. "That's funny because I don't remember any pictures of me with Emily, or any mention of the two months we hung out."

Anger rose in Kristin's chest. She couldn't see the group ahead anymore, and she didn't want to be here alone with Dale anymore, especially if he was going to taunt her this way. This was her vacation, and she hadn't signed on for a trip to Memory Lane. She nudged Rocky with her heels and clicked her tongue at him, and he started off at a fast walk. Unfortunately, Dale was right beside her. "Talk to me, Krissy. Tell me what really happened. I know it wasn't drifting. That would have been a date here and there, a call once a week, then once every two weeks. This was pretty abrupt, and I've been curious about it ever since."

She didn't look at him, focusing on the trail as she urged Rocky to go a little faster. "If I remember correctly, I wasn't the only one who backed off. I didn't hear my phone ring and see your number on the caller ID, either. Answer your own question." Dale kept pace with her, even as she had Rocky break into a trot.

"I was responding to the cold shoulder you gave me. I came to talk to you between classes one day, and you just smiled and said 'see you later'. You walked away, and I was blindsided. But I figured I'd respect whatever you wanted and leave you alone. I kept waiting for you to tell me what was wrong, but you avoided me."

"I didn't make any special efforts to do so," she protested. The trot became a canter, and Dale pulled his horse in front of Rocky, causing her to jerk the reins and come to a sudden stop. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Confronting you, Krissy." His words were clipped, but his face showed hurt rather than anger. For so many years, Kristin hadn't thought about Dale, and maybe there had been good reason to put it aside. He told her, "I never held it against you, and I never would have hunted you down to ask questions, but here you are, on my land, and I want you to enjoy yourself like any other guest. But I'd really like to know why you ran."

Kristin deflated. She hated cowards, but in some ways, she was the worst of them. She could face issues in the office all day long, manage confrontation with the competition like a pro. But when it came to her personal life, she couldn't face the facts, and that was a long-running problem. She didn't meet his eyes as she said, "I was scared, I guess. Does that satisfy your need for closure?" she asked in a weak, petulant tone that made her cringe internally.

"For now."

She turned angry eyes on him. "Well, that's all you're getting. I'm going back to the room, packing my bag, and calling a cab to take me to the airport. I came here to get away from pressure and anxiety, not to be berated by someone I haven't seen since high school. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Dale, but as far as I can tell, you turned out just fine. In fact, if I'd clung to you, I bet we'd have either had a huge falling out and regretted it, or you would have come to New York with me and missed out on this grand opportunity."

Dale flinched, and Kristin wanted to cry. She hadn't meant to throw painful words at him like daggers. Closing her eyes and hanging her head, she whispered, "Dammit, I'm sorry, Dale. I don't handle confrontation well."

His soft, sad laugh made her chest ache. "I'm not so sure about that. You seem pretty good with the low blows. I guess I deserved it, though, for being a prick of a host." He sighed. "Look at me, Krissy."

She chanced a quick glance through her lashes and saw his eyes soften toward her. Lifting her head, she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind. "Don't leave." There was a plea in his voice, and it pulled at Kristin's heartstrings. "Please, stay. I've been an ass for the last few minutes, but I'm really not a bad guy, and I know how much you love the ranch life. Just stay and enjoy yourself, and I won't pressure you anymore." He looked away, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "I've just spent more than a few minutes over the years thinking about you."

Kristin's eyes stung, and she wasn't pleased with that reaction. "I chose not to think about you, Dale," she admitted, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I chose to put everything I left behind in Texas away in a box in my mind long ago. I didn't want anything to tempt me, to lure me back. Do you know I don't even come home for Christmas? I drag my family to a destination Christmas every year, and I've done it for years. This place is like a whirlpool, and I felt like, if I stuck one toe in to test the water, I'd be sucked in until I drowned."

"Is that such a bad thing?" he asked softly.

"It is when you're determined to make it to the top at your firm, to live in Manhattan and be successful in the marketing business, which is so male-dominated a woman can barely even get her foot in the door." She forced herself to stop the rant. "I'm not a feminist, really. I'm just passionate about my work."

"I can see that." He rode closer to her, coming up alongside her so her leg brushed the side of his horse. "Can we start over? I would have liked to end things as friends in the past, and I feel like I've missed out on knowing a wonderful woman. Can I get a do-over?"

Kristin smiled. It was nice to think about the kind of connection he offered. Aside from LeAnn, she didn't have any friends. That wasn't an exaggeration; it was the situation she'd created. Friends were a distraction, and if they didn't pull you away from the important things in life, they got jealous and competitive. Then, they sabotaged other relationships, success, and anything else they couldn't match in their own lives. With LeAnn, things were different. And considering that Dale had his own great success and lived two thousand miles away, she didn't foresee having those issues.

"I think I can handle that," she agreed. She held out her hand in a mock greeting. "Hi, I'm Kristin Jenkins. It's nice to meet you."

He took her hand and, like a southern gentleman, lifted it to his lips in greeting. She ignored the heat that seared her skin where his breath touched, the electricity that crawled up her arm and gave her heart a jump-start. "I'm Dale Prescott. Welcome to my ranch, where there's no pressure and tons of excitement." They laughed, and Kristin felt every bit of tension she'd had from the moment she'd first seen his face.

# Chapter Eight

Two of a Kind

LeAnn groaned, walking with her legs bowed and her back arched. She looked like she'd failed at a contortion attempt and needed to be put in traction. "Are you going to walk like that all the way to the mess hall?" Kristin asked as she checked her makeup in the mirror above the dresser in LeAnn's room. "Because I'd like a warning so I can prepare in advance to pretend I have no idea who you are."

"Shut up," LeAnn growled. "I took a muscle relaxer. I'll be fine in fifteen minutes."

Kristin snorted. "Well, I guess you won't be getting laid tonight. There will be no pleasing any man with loose...muscles."

LeAnn glared at her through the mirror as she carefully lowered herself to the edge of the bed. "You're a bitch sometimes, you know that? Three days on a horse, and I can barely move. How do you spend that much time on a horse and not end up walking like your twenty months pregnant?"

"I have good posture on a horse." She turned toward LeAnn with a sympathetic look. "It'll get easier, I promise. But you might want to see if they have any Icy Hot here, or you won't be able to get out of bed in the morning." She sat next to LeAnn, who winced as the bed bounced. "What does it mean if someone you dated briefly more than a decade ago starts asking probing questions about the past?"

LeAnn was at full attention now, despite her pain. "I take it you found some alone time to catch up with Mr. High School Fling. Spill it, woman. What did he say?"

Kristin shook her head. She didn't want to recount every last word that was said, even though it kept playing over and over in her mind like a movie reel set on repeat. "He brought up our...relationship, if you could even call it that, and the circumstances under which it ended."

"And did you remember to tell him it never ended?"

"No, LeAnn, and I'm not going to." Kristin knew she was whining, but her irritation was reaching the boiling point. "Listen, we sort of argued and then agreed to start over as friends. But he still asked a lot of questions, and I've been thinking about them ever since." She glanced up at LeAnn's eager face, then stared back down at her nails, picking at them. "All this time, I thought I had the answers. Actually, I didn't think much about it at all. But it seemed cut and dry. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I've deluded myself into an alternate version of reality. I think maybe I'm in denial about a lot of things, and that means I don't really have the answers I thought I did."

"Either that was incredibly hard to follow, or my meds just hit me." LeAnn shook her head as if to clear it. "Wait, I think I got it. You have a guilt complex because you think that, maybe, you're the one at fault for whatever came between the two of you. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you're curious what would have happened if you hadn't sabotaged that relationship and run away screaming like a coward."

Kristin frowned. She didn't like the assessment. "Not exactly." LeAnn raised an eyebrow in argument, and Kristin caved. "Sort of. I mean, Dale was an incredible guy. And I swear he just sort of walked away. But he says he came to walk me to class, and I basically blew him off and never called him again. LeAnn, I don't remember it that way. How do I know whether I've convinced myself it was mutual or if he's delusional?"

"Did he give you the 'sad panda' look?"

Kristin didn't meet her friend's eyes. "I knew it!" LeAnn shouted. She moved quickly, and Kristin noted that LeAnn was about to get very talkative, the muscle relaxers having had their positive influence and getting ready to add the inevitable chatterbox side effect. She sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. "You know what I think? I think you should try again. Now that you're both adults who've succeeded at life..." she rolled her eyes as Kristin gave her a withering look. "Yes, Krissy, you've been successful. This is just a bump in the road to the ultimate success. Anyway, as adults, you've learned a lot more about yourselves, and you're both mature enough to understand your feelings. I see the way you look at him and the longing glances he passes your way. There's chemistry and desire and comfort, and that's a perfect platform to stand on to make a second go at it."

Kristin shook her head. "We were kids, LeAnn. I don't think we have anything in common anymore, other than our love for horses and ranch life. And that's not where I am anymore. I'm an executive, in New York. So it would never work. Besides, if I'm going to start fresh in my career, I don't have time to dabble in a new relationship and ask questions about where it might or might not go."

LeAnn stood suddenly. "I'm starving. Let's get to dinner." As they walked, she said, "The two don't have to be mutually exclusive. You're both young. You have plenty of time to explore and take things slowly, even in a long distance relationship, if that's what you prefer."

Kristin's mind whirled with possibilities she couldn't really fathom. It made her dizzy, and she instantly shut it down. "No, LeAnn. I'm here to relax, and the thought of getting close to someone stresses me out. And you don't even know that he'd want any kind of relationship with me. Just let it go, okay? I shouldn't have asked the question in the first place."

LeAnn frowned. "What was the question?" Kristin shook her head. "No, really. I want to answer the actual question. Remind me what it was."

With a sigh, Kristin said, "I asked why he would start dredging up the past all of a sudden."

LeAnn nodded. "Isn't it obvious? He was in love with you, Krissy. And he's hung onto it for a long time, which means he is very much into you, if you ever decide I'm right and you're wrong. You're two of a kind, and the chemistry I see between you is real."

Kristin didn't respond, brooding in her silence. She realized she was clueless, about relationships and, honestly, about her choices in life. It was all very confusing, and a dark cloud settled over her, dampening her mood as she entered the dining area to the cacophony of guests milling around and sitting down to wait for dinner. She wished for a huge glass of very stout wine, but so far, there had been no alcoholic beverages offered. She understood; people unaccustomed to being around animals could very easily spook them if they imbibed too much.

She noticed instantly as Dale came in the room and tried not to stare, but she couldn't help herself. He was dressed down, in a pair of jogging pants and a tank top, and it was an incredible transformation. It also showed just how muscled his chest and stomach were through the tightly stretched shirt, and the waistband of his pants made clear his narrow waist and hips. Without his cowboy hat and his dark hair spiking in all directions, he looked like a combination of a model, rock star, and athlete. His eyes fell on her instantly, and he approached the table where she and LeAnn sat alone; LeAnn busy texting some of her clients or publishing a blog or some such on her phone.

"Is it okay if I sit with you tonight?" he asked, those mystical eyes filled with mischief.

"Help yourself," Kristin said, trying to sound bright rather than anxious. He pulled up the chair next to her, across from LeAnn, who came out from under her rock long enough to offer a smile and a wave, before burying herself again. Kristin leaned into Dale with a conspiratorial whisper. "She took a muscle relaxer. It's like meth or crack for her. She just dives into something with complete focus."

Dale nodded understanding. "That's ass-backwards, but whatever works for her." He spoke under his breath as he added, "I hear she couldn't seem to find her balance on Bessie today, and the only reason she didn't slide off was that the saddle was, and I quote, professionally tightened."

"That would be my work," Kristin announced proudly. They chatted over dinner, a huge helping of chicken and dumplings Kristin couldn't finish and actually shared with Dale after he finished his.

She was suddenly frightened that he would get up and walk away with the plates empty, and she asked quickly, "Why are you out here tonight? You don't usually eat with the guests."

"I do. Or at least, after the first couple of meals, I like to. I just want everyone to settle in first. I can't enjoy my food if I'm being assaulted with questions from every direction." He smiled. "I typically end up at everyone's table once or twice during their stay."

For some reason, that little bit of information disappointed Kristin. She'd somehow started to assume Dale would give her preferential treatment, since they were old friends, and she'd looked forward to his company. "That's a good business tactic. You should think about marketing your ranch like that. 'Personal attention for each and every guest'. It would be a hugely successful venture."

"Be careful, Krissy. I might just have to hire you myself," he teased.

She scoffed. "You'd have to offer a pretty little package to get me out of New York and away from my life there." She ignored the voice in her head reminding her she didn't really have a life there, and at this point, not even a job.

Playfully, Dale scratched his chin and said, "I guess I'll just have to make you an offer you can't refuse."

Laughing, Kristin shook her head. "Funny."

He shrugged and smiled boyishly. "I made you laugh, didn't I?" He sobered and said, "In all seriousness, I think you might get bored tomorrow. We're feeding pigs and milking cows."

Kristin tried to sound nonchalant. "That's alright, it's part of running a ranch."

"True, but you're on vacation, and running a ranch was a lifestyle for you, not a vacation. I thought maybe I'd take the day off, and we can go for a ride, take Rocky and Blaze and disappear for the day. We could leave after breakfast, be back by dinner. No one would even notice we were gone." He winked at her.

Kristin hesitated. She didn't want to say no. She liked the idea of skipping out on the parts of the experience that weren't her cup of tea, and she was kind of excited at the prospect of spending some time alone with Dale, now that they'd worked out their differences and had been getting along. But she also felt guilty; she hadn't spent much time with LeAnn, who had convinced her to come. And even if it meant taking the grin-and-bear-it attitude about the mundane labor, tomorrow would be a chance to simply hang out with her best friend.

She started to respond and turn him down, but LeAnn suddenly shouted, "Son of a bitch!"

Both Kristin and Dale turned to her in surprise, and she was on her feet, typing furiously on her phone. "Of all the times for one of my clients to pull a stunt like this!" She looked despondently at Kristin. "It's an emergency. There's going to be a whole lot of damage control on this one, and I can't do anything from here. I'm sorry, but I have to head home early. I can't ignore this one."

Devastated, Kristin asked, "Isn't there someone else who can handle it? We're on vacation."

"No, there's not. That's the biggest problem with my job. There's no one I can trust to handle this kind of fiasco when I'm not there." She turned apologetic eyes toward Dale. "You've been wonderful, and I'm going to have to come back and finish the experience. And next time, I'll make sure I'm in better shape."

"I'll make sure you get a credit on it, so you can come for free on your next stay," he promised, standing to shake her hand.

Kristin rose, as well, hating the situation. She hated that LeAnn had to leave, especially for work reasons, but more selfishly, she really didn't want to go herself. With a sigh, she said, "I'll call a cab as soon as we get back to the room, and we'll pack up and head out." She didn't even know how to say goodbye to Dale at this point and thought about avoiding it altogether.

But LeAnn stared at Kristin like she had three heads with twelve eyes springing out of her neck. "I don't think so! Krissy, stay. You need the vacation. I can get away any time for a few days. It takes an act of God to drag you away from work. Now that you're here, relax and finish the trip. It'll do you a world of good. Your reset button will be freshly smashed when you get home." She offered a reassuring smile and a secretive wink.

Waffling, Kristin felt obligated to go with LeAnn. At the same time, it wasn't like Kristin had anything to go back to right now. What was she going to do, follow LeAnn around like a lost puppy and act like a cheering squad while she did her job? She was torn and didn't know what to do.

LeAnn didn't give her a choice. Leaning in to hug Kristin, she whispered, "Go for it, Krissy. I'll be fine, and I'll call you in a couple of days to see how it's going." Holding her shoulders at arm's length, LeAnn said in a normal voice, "Take a bubble bath. Shovel some hay. Do something to set your mind at ease while I go wring my client's neck for being amazingly stupid." She smiled at Dale. "Thanks again, and I'll see you soon."

Kristin saw Dale give a little salute and thought if he'd had his hat, he would have tipped it. The cowboy in him sometimes made her melt.

"I'm sorry LeAnn had to go," he said as Kristin stared after her. "But she's right. You're here, and you should enjoy the break from the big city life." She felt his hand on her back, a soothing gesture, and it made her body flood with heat. She was so unaccustomed to the way she reacted to him! And the worst part was, it wasn't like she could do anything about it. "So, since you're staying, what do you think about my plan for tomorrow?"

Kristin had almost forgotten about it in the brief commotion. She may have mourned LeAnn's early departure, but now, she had no excuse for saying no and no reason to subject herself to the menial, grueling tasks the rest of the group faced tomorrow. Suddenly feeling invigorated, Kristin turned to face Dale, her heart thumping as she met those magical eyes. "I think it sounds like a fabulous idea."

# Chapter Nine

Murphy's Law

"Are you getting hungry?" Dale asked as he led Kristin around a corner, into a clearing. They'd been riding for around three hours already, and aside from the fact that her stomach was growling, Kristin also knew the horses needed to rest for a bit.

"I could eat something," she told him. They pulled to a stop in the clearing, close to the tree line where there was some shade, and Dale dismounted, starting to unload his saddlebags, which he'd apparently filled with picnic materials. Kristin was only mildly surprised; it was the sort of thing Dale would do, and he'd quite obviously planned ahead. She took the blanket from him and spread it on the ground while he pulled out food and drink and made sure the horses were tied up.

The meal was pleasant. Roast beef sandwiches, homemade potato salad, and brownies certainly hit the spot. And the conversation was even better, discussing some of the scarier moments Dale had in putting together the ranch and a few times Kristin had thought her career would fail. She still didn't mention the layoff; she didn't want pity.

They grew silent as their bellies filled, and Kristin was lost in the moment, surrounded by the incredible beauty of nature and a reminder of what life was like before she'd complicated it with business. She ate her brownie slowly, chewing thoughtfully as she imagined how it would feel to go back to the concrete jungle when this vacation was over.

"You told me you loved me once." Kristin whipped her head around, staring at Dale, who was lounging back, leaning on his elbows with his long legs stretched out in front of him. His face was serene, and he stared at her without accusation or pain. "You told me you loved me, and then you ran away. I figure one of two things happened. Either you realized it was a dumb thing to say because it wasn't true, and you couldn't tell me that, or you were afraid of it because it was true, so you ran from it."

Images rolled through Kristin's mind at light speed. She flashed through the time she'd spent with Dale all those years ago, and she couldn't remember ever telling him she loved him. Had he imagined it, or had she blocked it from her memory? He waited patiently, not interrupting her search through the files in her brain, and as the slide show slowed to a crawl, she found the one she was looking for, her eyes widening at the memory.

It was the day they'd gone riding, and Kristin had packed a picnic similar to this one. They'd stopped by a creek and shared the food, and then they'd lain back on the blanket, Dale cradling her in the crook of his shoulder. She'd traced her fingers up and down his chest over and over, and at one point, she'd simply breathed, "I love you, Dale."

Now, she nearly choked on the tears she refused to shed, realizing how badly she must have hurt him. As she met his mossy gaze, she shook her head. "I was eighteen, Dale. I didn't know what love really meant." But that wasn't an excuse, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat as she remembered what had really made her turn away. "And Dale...you never said it back."

He sat up and hit her with an intense stare. "I was so overwhelmed to hear you say it that day I didn't trust my voice. And you never gave me another chance. But I'll tell you now I was crazy in love with you, and I've never felt that way about anyone since."

It was like he hit Kristin in the chest with a sledgehammer, and she couldn't breathe. She sat there, trying to gulp air and failing, the information registering and weighing her down. Her defense mechanisms kicked in and she shook her head. "We were so young, Dale. If what we had was love, it was puppy love. We're adults now. Maturity changes everything."

His eyes sparked with sadness. "It doesn't change everything, Krissy. It changes a lot, and it pulls people apart, but sometimes, it brings people back together, too." He stood abruptly and started collecting the trash, stowing it in the saddlebag, and Kristin folded the blanket. She handed it to him, and her fingers brushed against his, making her whole body jump. How could she possibly feel so close to someone she barely knew? With a sigh, she untied Rocky, rubbed his nose, and mounted him.

He whinnied wildly and bucked, nearly throwing Kristin, and she scowled, bringing him under control. Still, he skittered, favoring his front right hoof. She climbed off immediately and joined Dale as he bent to carefully inspect the leg and hoof. She didn't see anything wrong with his leg, but Dale let out a fierce curse and pointed to the horseshoe on his hoof. Kristin saw the issue immediately. Somehow, a large, sharp pebble had lodged between the shoe and the hoof.

"I can't ride him like this," she said, shaking her head. "That much weight and pressure, especially as far as we have to go back, will split his hoof."

Dale nodded grimly. "Blaze can't carry us both, either." Straightening, he looked around, squinting, as if searching for something. Finally, he smiled and pointed. "There's an old barn about half a mile down that trail. It's a little overgrown, but it's a short distance. We'll take the horses over there, get them some water, and get out of the sun. I'll call for a trailer to come pick us all up. We'll get Rocky right as rain as soon as we get home."

The barn emerged on the horizon through the trees, and Kristin could tell it hadn't been in use for years. Rotted pieces of wood littered the ground around the building, and several other beams were in disrepair. But as they drew nearer, the roof seemed solid, and there were a couple of clean buckets. Leaving Kristin with the horses, Dale took the buckets to the creek, filled them, and rigged them up for the horses to drink.

He pulled out his cell and stepped out of the building to make a call as Kristin searched the old trunk in the corner for a brush. She wanted to tend the horses while they waited, and though the brush she found wasn't ideal, it would do the job for now. She could hear Dale, shouting into the phone, obviously having a bad connection. "No, the old barn to the south...south, Ricky...Right. It's about 20 miles down the road...no, it's closer over the trails but...listen, Ricky. You have to take the road out to the west and turn right by the airmail box...yes. Go another five miles that way and stop...no five. Stop by the drum circle...yes, with the stumps. We'll meet you there."

Kristin was relieved, until she heard the next statement. "No, I know. But the farrier won't take all night. I just need one trailer...no, one trailer for both horses...dammit, Ricky, just do what you can. We'll wait in the old barn for you. Just call me when you turn by the box so we can head over to the road...right. Thanks, Ricky...no, we ate, we'll be fine till later. Just try not to take till midnight tonight."

Dale reappeared through the open doors, tension clear on his face. "We've got twelve trailers, and they're all on the road, taking everyone to the farrier. Rocky was supposed to go get shoed, and I forgot about that. Anyway, there should be a couple of them headed back before dinner. We'll just have to hold down the camp till Ricky can get one over here."

Kristin didn't mind and reached into the saddlebag Blaze carried, pulling out the blanket. She fluffed up some of the very old hay to pad it and spread it on the ground. Yawning, she said, "I could use the rest anyway." She lay down and tried not to tense as Dale lay beside her. The horses slurped at their water, and Dale chuckled. "Murphy's Law prevails."

"It's not that bad," Kristin told him, though she wished they hadn't fought before all this. It would have been much more comfortable. Then again, it was hard to consider their discussion a fight. Trying to ease the tension, she told Dale, "At least we've got shelter."

That turned out to be a good thing. As they chatted about high school and Dale caught her up on some of the things he'd learned at the class reunion, the sky darkened, and before long, a thunderstorm raged overhead. "That was unexpected," Kristin remarked as the smell of the rain wafted into the barn and a bit of spray blew in on the wind.

"You're a Texan. Nothing about the weather should ever surprise you." Dale rose up on an elbow and gazed down at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "You're not really shocked, are you?"

Kristin shifted under his gaze. "Not really. It takes a lot to throw me off these days."

She saw the mischief in his expression as a smile crept over his lips. "I bet I could throw you off balance." Before she could rise to the challenge, Dale leaned in, his lips blazing hot on hers, and Kristin instinctively opened to him. Feeling the cracks of lightning overhead course through her system as their tongues tangled and danced. His arm snaked under her, and Kristin rolled to her side, thrusting her fingers into his thick hair. She pulled him closer, pressing her body against his wantonly. She should be ashamed of herself, but she was caught up in the moment, in the feel of his hard chest against hers.

His fingers crept lower, cupping one cheek and then closing around the back of her thigh and drawing her leg over his hip. She gasped as she felt the evidence of his arousal against her stomach, pressing and throbbing, and it made the warmth and moisture gather between her thighs. She didn't hesitate as she reached for the snaps on his shirt and tore them open, wanting to feel his skin beneath her fingers and palms. Memories raced back into her head, and he'd changed so little that it was as if they were back in her stables, in the loft above the horses, where they'd first been intimate.

Dale lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, his fingers trailing down between her breasts and tickling along the waistline of her jeans. She panted, every little brush of skin against skin igniting a new set of flames. "I almost forgot how beautiful you were," he whispered as his lips trailed over her throat and down her shoulder, finding their way to one taut nipple. She cried out and arched her back as he took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

In a moment of clarity and unabashed honesty, she told him, "I never forgot how good your mouth was."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin as he reached for the fly of her jeans and quickly opened it, pushing the denim and her panties down just before he thrust his hand between her thighs. His hand was cool against the gathering heat, and as he stroked her, Kristin's body convulsed with the first orgasm she'd had in a very long time. It blurred her vision, and she bucked against his fingers as they toyed with her folds and teased at her core. He pinched and rolled her swollen cleft, and the wave of pleasure grew until it consumed her.

Wanting more and feeling impatient as the storm outside brewed heavier with the coming storm inside her, Kristin shoved Dale's jeans down his legs, catching his shaft in her hand as she released it from its prison. He was long and thick, just as she remembered, and maybe her memory had dimmed because he was smoother and harder than she remembered. He shuddered as she ran her fingers from base to head reverently.

"That feels so good," he groaned as he dove in for another kiss. Kristin welcomed him, using her free hand to wrap around his back and pull him to her, delighting in their bodies pressed together with nothing in between. She rolled to her back, wrapping her legs around his waist in clear invitation, forcing him to settle his weight deliciously atop her as he shifted between her thighs. "I missed you, Krissy. Are you sure you want this?"

Kristin didn't really want to answer that question honestly. She wasn't sure of anything at this point. Her future was a giant question mark, and analyzing if this was a good idea would just throw a wrench into things, and her body begged her mind to give over control. With the wind blowing, the sky cracking, the air was filled with magic, and it infused her with courage she wouldn't normally have. She stroked his shaft again, firmly and with a determination she usually applied to her career. "I want you, Dale. The hell with tonight or tomorrow or next week. Right now, I want you."

His kiss made her body erupt with a sense of being alive greater than anything she'd experienced in a very long time. As he made love to her mouth, he slid into her, slowly, easily, and she trembled as a slow thread of pleasure flowed through her at the coupling. He drew out and thrust again, with more pressure, and Kristin tightened her legs around him, drawing him deeper. She raised her hips to meet his thrusts as he found a rhythm that heated them both to the boiling point, their sweat mingling and blending with the smell of rain and sex in the air.

Kristin cried out as his mouth tormented her shoulders and breasts while he plowed into her. Each drive harder and more insistent than the last, her orgasms flowing one on top of the other relentlessly, and still it wasn't enough. She wanted all of him.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Dale rose up, bracing his hands on either side of her, and drove himself to the hilt, his head thrown back and his body quivering as he found his release. Just watching him brought Kristin to another heavy orgasm. He started to shift off her, but Kristin caught him and drew his full body weight to her, wanting the pressure of it, the warmth of it, the intimacy of skin to skin contact.

Eventually, Dale rose and looked down, searching her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, brushing tender fingertips along the line of her jaw.

She smiled contentedly. "Better than okay." She stroked a hand through his hair, and he rubbed his head against her palm, making her laugh. "I take it you're pretty good, too."

"Oh, yes," he growled and planted a firm kiss on her lips. Moving off her, he scowled out at the storm. "It's going to take them a little longer to come rescue us. Are you prepared to stay the night with me if we have to?"

Kristin was in no hurry to go anywhere. She'd found a comfort zone, and even if it wasn't the height of reality, she wanted to rest here for a while, like a stop along the highway on a long road trip. "I think I can handle it."

Dale sat up and, still nude, pulled one knee to his chest and draped an arm over it. "So, what now, Krissy? Where do we go from here?"

"Does it matter?" Kristin didn't know what the future held, and for the first time since high school, she didn't think it was vital to plan ahead. "We're here now, and we're happy. Let's make that the priority."

Dale didn't seem satisfied with the answer, but he covered it well as he smiled and affectionately grabbed her, making her giggle with pure delight.

### To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

### Please visit your favorite eBook retailer to view the next books in the "Taken by the Rancher" series.
Jet Set With the Billionaire

by

Sarah Miller

# Chapter One

Thomas Wolfe believed that, 'you can't go home again'. He obviously hadn't ever been to my home; because, in ten years, precious little had changed. In fact, my parents hadn't altered the décor of their house in over two decades. My bedroom was unchanged since the day I left for college. My twin bed still had the predominantly pink patchwork quilt laid on it. The cream drapes hung in the window. My dressing table still had rosettes, for gymnastics and horseback riding, placed neatly around the mirror. It was the room of an adolescent girl.

So, the fact of the matter is, when I finally accepted the cold hard truth; after three months of searching for another job and desperately trying to make ends meet, I _did_ go home again. And it was as if I'd stepped back in time.

Mom and Dad professed they were happy to help me until I got back on my feet, but they were also predictably self-righteous, and I suspected it took everything within them to not scream, 'I told you so' from the rooftops.

"Life in the city can be tough," Mom said. "Your dad and I feared this might happen."

Breathing deeply before responding, I tried not to start an argument. "You had a premonition about Blue Rock laying off a hundred people?" I murmured.

Turning from the bread dough she was mixing, she brushed her floury hands on her white apron. "These things happen," she said tartly. She was only twenty-one when she'd given birth to me. Now, as she started to nudge fifty, she looked pretty good for her age. She was slender, just as she'd been throughout my lifetime, and still had most of her hair color, with just a hint of gray peaking at the temples.

"You're right, Mom," I replied, trying to focus on the laptop that sat before me. "They do."

She continued to lecture me about how I should have been satisfied to get a job locally. I didn't see the sense in arguing with her. It seemed fruitless to point out that I'd been living and working successfully in New York City for just under seven years. She wouldn't have listened. In her opinion, living in the city was the surest way to ruin my life. So, while she relished telling me that I'd made the wrong decision, she was secretly glad that I was back in Woodbridge, Connecticut. It was a sleepy, affluent town, a bubble (or so my parents believed) that kept out all the nastiness of the world.

And God knows they tried to keep me away from the "world". At thirteen, I attended Sacred Heart Academy in Hamden. It was an all-girls Catholic school, which offered the obsessively religious, guilt-laden education that my mom in particular was eager for me to receive. Mom and Dad were both devout Catholics, as were their parents. They expected me to follow suit and become a God-fearing woman, who retained her innocence until marriage. They viewed sex as nothing more than a means of procreation.

Sending me to an all-girls school was intended to help on that front, to keep me away from temptation and ensure that I didn't create temptation in any young man. It worked, at least for a while. By the time I left home for college, I was socially awkward around boys and artless in my conversations with them. I also learned to always be suspicious of their motives. However, I didn't buy into all the Catholic Church had taught me. Gradually, I stopped attending mass on Sundays. Then, I met a guy who pulled me even further from the faith my parents had so desperately wanted me to follow.

Greg was a physics major, a staunch atheist, and one of the most handsome men I'd ever met. He talked to me about the vastness of the universe, and convinced me that creation myths have always existed in some form.

"Organized religions are a human's way of trying to understand what seems incomprehensible," he would tell me. "Nothing more and nothing less."

My own doubts, which I suspect had simmered under the surface for at least a few years by that point, were stoked by his persuasive arguments. He was incredibly intelligent, charming, and witty. Falling in love with him was ridiculously easy. It was a naïve first love, the kind most of my peers had experienced at sixteen. But it was a fervent, fierce kind of love; one that made me feel that I would do anything for him. However, there was one thing he wanted that I shied away from for a time, not because I didn't want to give it, but because I was scared. Thankfully, he was much more understanding than I could have hoped for. Slowly but surely, he chipped away at my insecurities.

After nine months of dating, and at the age of twenty-one, I took the final step of defiance against the religious dogma my parents had forced upon me.

Having received absolutely no sex education, my first time was exactly what you might expect: a little clumsy, painful because I was so tense, and, I dare say, it didn't rock Greg's world, either.

Afterward, I felt a bizarre mixture of emancipation, coupled with an overriding sense of guilt. Whether I believed what my parents believed or not, I'd let them down. I knew they'd be terribly disappointed if they ever found out.

My relationship with Greg continued for another year after that, but things were strained. We were having sex regularly during that time, but I can't say I ever really enjoyed it. My mind was always drifting to the things I'd been taught. As much as I wanted to disregard it all, I couldn't—not entirely. Eventually, once we'd drifted so far apart that neither of us could ignore it any more, we parted amicably.

That year, we both graduated; he moved to California and I headed to New York, where I'd already secured an intern position at Blue Rock. I moved up quickly, putting in more hours than my fellow trainees. By the time I was twenty-five, I was the fund manager's assistant and I was content.

My love life was sparse and I'd had two boyfriends since Greg. Neither relationship lasted longer than a few months, and just like before, the sex was a disappointment to me. Frustratingly, I knew the problem was mine and not the men I chose. Even masturbating, I found it hard to reach an orgasm, and I would feel misplaced shame at the act. However, sexual gratification quickly became the least of my concerns.

Blue Rock suffered a major hit in the economy crash, and I was one of its casualties. At first, I was disappointed, but not overtly concerned. After all, I thought, I'd be able to get another job without too much hassle. But as the weeks turned to months and every application was either ignored or responded to with a curt decline, I started to panic.

Despite attempts to pinch pennies and beg a little leniency from my landlord, I eventually had to admit defeat and give up my apartment.

That's when I found myself back home in my parents' house, sitting at the kitchen table trawling through job sites while my Mom made a batch of bread from scratch and still found the time to lecture me about the mistakes I'd made.

"So, you will be coming to mass tomorrow?" she asked suddenly, ripping me from my melancholy thoughts.

"Hmm?" I replied, lifting my head as I realized I hadn't been listening to a word she said.

"You'll be coming to mass," she said, this time it was phrased as an expectation rather than a question.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I don't know..." I hedged slowly. "I...umm. I don't really think so," I eventually uttered.

"Mmm," she hummed discontentedly.

"Mom," I began with a soft sigh. "We've been over this. I told you, I haven't been for a while and I just...I don't feel it's for me."

"Jesus is for everybody, Melissa," she tossed back at me, turning her back to attend to the beeping oven.

"You know Michael hasn't been to church for years, either," I sullenly responded. "You don't give him the third degree over it."

Michael, my younger brother, stopped attending church when he was eighteen. By the age of twenty-six, he was living in Florida, had had a string of girlfriends, many of whom my parents knew about, and was 'living in sin' with his current lover, Kate. None of this seemed to bother our mom. Apparently, it was perfectly natural for a man to 'sow some wild oats' and since none of his girlfriends had been 'good Catholic girls', that meant it was acceptable.

"He's still young," Mom told me. "He'll come around once he finds the right woman and starts to think about marriage and children."

The youngest of the family, Livia, was in her junior year of college and wanted to go on to med school. She, as far as I knew, still shared our parents' beliefs and had even talked about joining a medical mission. She was, therefore, the 'golden girl'.

"All I ask," Mom sighed, "is that you come. Just listen to what Father Perry has to say."

"I'll think about it," I grumbled, picking my laptop off the table and retreating to the privacy of my old bedroom.

I couldn't bring myself to attend church with my folks, which led to more lectures; some from my mom, some from my dad, and some in which they tag-teamed me. My dad was not only concerned for my immortal soul; he was worried about the here and now.

"You need to think about marriage," he urged. "Who's going to take care of you if you haven't got a husband?"

"I've managed okay so far," I bit back.

"Well..." he shrugged, one eyebrow arching.

"This is a blip," I told him sharply. "I will get a job and get out of your hair."

"It's not about getting out of our hair," he argued. "I just want you to have a man you can depend on, so you won't experience any more of these 'blips'. Besides," he added smiling, "don't you want to have children?"

"I don't know Dad," I huffed. "Maybe one day."

"You're not getting any younger."

"I'm not even thirty yet, Dad!"

These debates with my parents would go around and around in circles, neither of them ever seeming to understand my point of view.

# Chapter Two

Once being back home for more than a month, and after ten unsuccessful interviews, I had moved beyond desperate. I would have been willing to do anything, even clean toilets. I had to get out from the suffocating atmosphere of my parents' home.

So, with an attitude of 'why the heck not?' I applied for a post I found online. I wasn't qualified, I had no experience, but it was a job and it was one that would get me out of my folks' house (even if just for stints at a time) immediately.

"You have an impressive résumé, Ms. Cannagh," said the man sitting on the other side of the desk. I'd only had to wait a week for the interview, and I was determined to make a good impression.

"In fact," he added, with a tilt of his head. "You're rather overqualified for the job."

That morning, I'd applied a little more make-up than usual, ensuring that I looked as beautiful as ever. My long blonde hair was clipped up at the back, with bangs swept sideways across my forehead. "I've been out of work for several months now," I admitted, "and I really am desperate to get a job, no matter what it might be."

"Hmm," he nodded understandingly. "It's just, I wonder if you'll be bored. Being part of a flight crew can be tedious," he chuckled. "But being the flight crew on a private jet is truly mind-numbing at times."

"I'm sure I won't be bored," I insisted, smiling warmly.

"Well, you're clearly an intelligent woman," he replied. "Serving drinks and fetching blankets or pillows is hardly the kind of work I think you would find stimulating."

Dropping all pretense, the smile quickly slipped from my face. I glanced down at the pale fingers that were entwined in my lap and shook my head. "Please, Mr. Joice," I pleaded, lifting my face back to his and fixing my eyes on him. "I need this job. And I will be the best crew member that you have ever had."

Smiling sympathetically, his face softened. "All right," he nodded. "Let's give it a go."

For a moment, I wasn't able to believe what I'd heard and sat with my jaw hanging open. "I...are you...?"

Paying minimal attention to my stunned expression, he continued. "You'll be working for a man named Mr. Race. He flies a lot for business; at least once or twice a week. We'll start you off on a temporary two-week contract. And after that time, if you, Mr. Race, and I are all happy, we'll fix you up with something more permanent."

I barely absorbed his explanation. "Thank you," I gasped, my lips spreading into a wide grin. "Thank you so much," I added. "I promise you won't regret this."

Just five days later, I was dressed in my flight attendants' uniform: a white blouse that hugged my bust; a scarlet 1950s-style neck scarf tied to the left of my chin; a black pencil skirt, which came to my knees; tan hold ups, and a pair of black court shoes with a three-inch heel. My hair was tied in a ponytail in the middle of my head, with just a couple of loose strands framing either side of my face.

I met Mr. Joice at the main office and he walked me down to the plane I would be working in. It was named, 'Make a Wish' and was one of the most luxurious things I'd ever set my eyes on. The cabin was divided into two sections; the front was like a small living room with a couch along one side, a mahogany coffee table in front of it, and four large seats that reclined all the way back to create a narrow bed. The section beyond that was lined with seats like a traditional jet. All were white leather and had plenty of leg room. Gold cushions adorned each seat, as well as the larger chairs up front.

"Usually, Mr. Race doesn't have a full house, but if he does, you'll have someone else with you," Mr. Joice said, as he walked me down the length of the cabin, showing me the full bar and the miniature cooking facilities that was located at the rear of the plane. Or at least, I thought it was the rear of the plane. He reached for a small handle and pushed open a door, which lead to a bedroom, complete with double bed and artwork hanging over the headboard.

"Is that an Altman?" I asked, staring at the oil painting of a blue jug sitting beside three tomatoes.

"Huh?" he asked, turning to look at the path of my gaze. "Oh, I haven't the faintest," he admitted with a shrug. "You'll have to ask Mr. Race."

I nodded, but dismissed the notion. I had no intention of firing questions at Mr. Race; I would do my job, be efficient, and make sure that he had the best flight possible. I certainly didn't want to appear nosey. No, I would mind my own business and let him get on with his. He'd be far too busy to discuss art with me.

As is so often the way when you hear about someone before you actually meet them, I had an image of Mr. Race in my mind. An obviously wealthy, successful business owner; I pictured him in his fifties, maybe even sixties. I guessed he'd be a little hefty from too much fine wine and food, and would no doubt have an air of confidence about him.

So, when a man in his mid-thirties; muscular, handsome, and little shy, boarded the plane, I assumed he must have been Mr. Race's assistant. I watched Mr. Joice walk briskly toward him, shake his hand and then turn to me.

"This is Ms. Cannagh," he stated.

Politely, I moved forward and forced a nervous smile at the brown-eyed man. "Good morning," I greeted, offering him my hand.

He reached out, taking it gently and giving it a quick squeeze. "It's a pleasure," he said. "Please call me, Alex."

"All right," I nodded. "I'm Melissa."

"Great," he smiled, releasing my hand and turning to Mr. Joice. "Have you given her the tour?"

As the two shared a brief conversation, I listened passively, my eyes moving over Alex's perfectly-fitted charcoal three-piece suit with white dress shirt, maroon tie, and a crisp white pocket square.

"So, umm, Melissa," he said, turning to face me. "If you wouldn't mind greeting the other passengers at the door, they should be arriving," he paused long enough to lift his left arm with a jerk that tugged his sleeve away from the black leather-strapped watch he wore, "in around five minutes."

"Okay," I eagerly responded, keen to make a good first impression. "Will Mr. Race be with them?"

A strange lopsided grin pulled at the right side of Alex's face. His eyes moved from me to Mr. Joice, who was laughing softly. Finally, his gaze shifted back to where it had begun. "I am Mr. Race," he explained, still wearing the same unbalanced smile.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed that..." I babbled. "I mean, I thought that Mr. Race would be....I'm really terribly sorry, sir."

"You've got nothing to apologize for," he chuckled. Slipping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he shrugged. "And there's no need for the 'sir'."

"But Mr. Race-" I began to protest.

"I told you," he good-naturedly interjected, "call me Alex."

"I'd rather not," I quietly admitted, realizing as the words slipped from my mouth that if my goal was to make a good first impression, arguing with the boss within five minutes of meeting him probably wasn't the best way to go.

He was no longer smiling. Instead, he studied me curiously. "Listen," he said. "I like to keep things informal because I'd like you to view me as an equal. But, at the same time, I keep things professional. John will tell you," he added, nudging an elbow toward Mr. Joice.

As it happened though, Mr. Joice's testimony wasn't actually called for.

"If it makes you uncomfortable to address me by my first name, I'll accept that," he continued smoothly. "But you were happy to call me 'Alex' before you knew who I was."

That was a rationale I could not argue with. When I thought he was just another employee of Mr. Race's, I would have been content to be on first-name terms. So what was my problem; some kind of inverted snobbery? No, it wasn't that. But at Blue Rock, I had always called senior members of staff Mr. or Ms. so-and-so. It was embedded in the company culture and seemed disrespectful to do anything else.

"So," he softly sighed, when several seconds swept past without my reply. "What's it going to be, Ms. Cannagh or Melissa?"

"Melissa is fine," I offered quietly, nodding. I wasn't comfortable, but if it was the way he preferred things, I'd just have to get used to it.

Thankfully, the rest of my first day went much more smoothly. The plane flew from Teterboro Airport to Chicago, where Alex Race and some of his board members had a meeting with a company they were in merger talks with. The flight took a little under two hours, and I was simply on hand to provide snacks and make cups of coffee. The five men and two women discussed business matters openly, but I tried to make myself as discreet as possible, drifting in and out and making a conscious effort not to listen to the details of their discussions.

I also tried not to stare too often at Alex, who was an incredibly attractive man. At a little over six feet and muscular without being too bulked up, he was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. It became apparent as I got to know him better, that he was more than just physically attractive. He was polite to everyone and endearingly lacked an ego for someone of his success level; he was also intelligent and humorous.

Trying to deny that I was attracted to him would have been ridiculous, but I did repeatedly attempt to push the feelings aside. Nevertheless, I'd find myself blushing when I caught him looking at me from the other end of the plane, and I felt painfully shy when he was flying alone and would ask me to come and sit with him.

I did try to make conversation. "Is that a Nathan Altman in the bedroom?" I asked, standing even though he'd asked me to take a seat in one of the large lounge-style chairs near the front of the cabin.

"Yes," he smiled, loosening his tie and leaning back into his own seat. "Are you a fan of his?"

"Umm," I responded hesitantly. "Yeah," I shrugged. "He's produced some interesting work. I like some of his early Cubist stuff."

His eyes lighting up, he nodded. "You studied art?"

"Only for a year in college," I dismissed. "I enjoyed it, but my parents didn't think it would lead to a proper career. Of course, they weren't happy with the career I ended up in, either," I added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Financial services, right?" he asked, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Yeah," I replied, realizing that I'd done exactly what I'd sworn not to do and begun to talk about myself. "Anyway," I quickly added, "I'm sure you don't want to hear about that. Can I get you another coffee?"

"No, I'm fine," he responded. "Please, sit down. We've got another hour until we land and I don't want to sit here talking to myself."

"Shouldn't I be working?" I suggested, pointing to the rear of the cabin.

"There's nothing to do," he shrugged.

Relenting, I sat down in the chair opposite him and, as he carefully steered the subject back to art, we began to talk.***

As the days turned to weeks, our conversations became more frequent. Alex was often flying alone and he'd usually ask me to sit with him on both the outbound and return journey. Perhaps inevitably, conversation did turn to private matters and I found myself telling him about my experiences at an all-girls' school and my time at college.

He, in turn, told me about the boarding school his parents sent him to. And then, suddenly, our chat took an unexpected turn. As we were sitting next to each other on the couch, his body slightly turned toward mine and elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I met my wife when we were both freshmen in college," he sighed.

"Oh," I blurted, unable to disguise my surprise. "I didn't realize you were married."

"I'm not any more," he explained. "We're divorced," he breathed, his eyes drifting to the floor in thought.

"I'm sorry," I offered, not knowing what else to say.

"It's okay," he responded, forcing a smile. "These things happen. And I don't suppose we were really well-suited in the first place. My parents wanted me to marry her and..." he drifted to a stop, before shaking his head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I do miss Fin, though."

"Fin?" I repeated.

"My son," he explained, smiling as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. Opening it, he offered it to me and I gently took it between my finger and thumb. The little boy in the picture must have been about three; he was a miniature version of his father, with big brown eyes and dark hair that was a little messy.

"He looks lovely," I said, giving the wallet back to him.

"Thanks," he grinned. "He's not always that sweet," he added laughing. "But...umm, I miss the little guy anyway."

"You don't get to see him much?"

"No, not as much as I'd like," he softly announced. "Things between me and my ex are strained, so she makes it as tough as she can for me to see him."

"I'm sorry," I said, sincerely.

Looking up, his eyes met mine and remained there for a long moment. "Thank you for sitting here and listening to me," Alex murmured softly. "I umm..." he began, his right hand moving forward and settling on my knee.

It wasn't an advance, it wasn't a remotely sexual touch, but the very fact that he'd touched me caused me to jump as though I'd been hit by lightning.

Snatching his hand back, he quickly apologized. "I'm sorry," he stated. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I..."

"It's all right," I responded getting up. "It wasn't your fault, I was just startled."

"Melissa," he urged. "The thing is," he added, his head dropping for a second before returning to me. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't like you," he said, "because I do, and if we'd met under different circumstances, I think that..." He didn't complete the thought. Instead, he changed tact. "I don't ever date people that I work with, it just makes things messy."

"Absolutely," I concurred, nodding. "I agree."

"I know you need this job, so I promise from now on, I will behave more professionally," he concluded.

I won't pretend that I wasn't disappointed, but I was grateful. We'd reached an agreement, and despite the fact an attraction remained between us, knowing we'd agreed not to act upon it eased my mind...somewhat.

The truth was, I thought about him all the time when I wasn't at work. When we flew alone together, I found myself focused on minuscule things; like the way his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, the movement of his throat as he swallowed, the handful of hairs that strayed from his side parting and crept onto his forehead, and the way his fingers tapped lightly on the keyboard of his laptop when he was focused on his work.

Sometimes, I would feel the heat of his gaze and wondered if he was looking at small aspects of my movement. It was impossible to say, because he never let me catch him.

What was most difficult about that period was that in order to help retain a professional distance, Alex had stopped asking me to sit and chat with him. His friendship was something I quickly came to miss. I'd been able to talk to him in a way that I couldn't talk to anyone else in my life - I'd never been able to talk to anyone as I had him.

Looking back, I think that it was a mistake to try to avoid each other. The only purpose it served was to create a tension between us that gradually ballooned, until one day the inevitable happened: it burst.

# Chapter Three

We were on our way back from Los Angeles where Alex had been attending a conference. During the journey, he'd remained in the front of the cabin and I'd been tucked away behind the bar, finding pointless jobs to do. About two hours from landing, he called me over.

"Melissa," he said, rising from his seat. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for the awkwardness between us lately."

"No need to apologize," I said, smiling and turning in the hope that would be all he had to say.

However, he quickly grasped my wrist to prevent me from leaving. "Please don't go," he said. "I..." he glanced down at the fingers he held firmly, but not roughly, around my wrist and gradually withdrew them. When his focus moved back to my face, his eyes were filled with something I could not define.

Then, unexpectedly, his head moved toward mine, not in a sudden rush; but a measured, deliberately slow pace. I had plenty of time to step away from him, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. Even though a part of me knew that the consequences could be disastrous both professionally and personally, the larger part disregarded all thoughts of next week, tomorrow, or even an hour from that moment.

It felt like an eternity. His warmth gradually closing in on me, the sandalwood scent of his cologne growing stronger, and his presence becoming more powerful. Then, gently, oh so gently, he melded his soft lips to mine.

I stood there, my hands by my sides, unsure of what to do with them. My eyes dropped heavily and I moved my lips beneath his, pursing and molding them gently until our two mouths seemed to fit perfectly.

Until that moment, I'd never experienced a kiss quite as delicious and sweet as his. He hummed contentedly and the low rumble in his chest vibrated against my breasts. I hadn't even realized he'd stepped forward and that the lengths of our bodies were pressed together just like our lips.

He was firm, rigid, reliable and strong. All of those things ignited a sudden fiery passion that I didn't know was held inside of me. It was no longer enough to feel his muscular frame against me. All of the fantasies I'd had about him; the dreams I'd woken from feeling hot, restless, and yearning, paled in comparison to the reality of me having him.

Both of my hands moved quickly to his chest, running up the silky surface of his shirt and exploring the curves of his hard pecs until I reached his broad, sturdy shoulders. Lacing my fingers around his neck, I pulled him hungrily closer, while my lips parted in a moan of delight.

His right arm seemed to instinctively loop around my waist and he tugged me to him with the same degree of desire. His tongue swept into my mouth, the tip drawing tenderly in and out, coaxing mine into a strange, slow, sensual wrestle.

I whimpered, my lower half moving unbidden in small rhythmic thrusts against his hard hip bone. My heart was racing, blood pounding raw heat and lust throughout my body. My head swam with nothing but pure need until I felt the dampness spreading in the crotch of my panties.

Alex moved a couple of steps back and pulled me with him. Not that I needed any encouragement, he would have had to pry me off him. My fingers were trying desperately to grasp his hair, and my lips moved frantically, clasping and unclasping between hurried pants for breath.

His legs unexpectedly struck the couch and he let his body fall heavily into the seat. I stumbled forward with him, not expecting the sudden loss of his tall and strong frame. Our mouths parted and I gave a cry of surprise, as I found myself falling forward. But he had me. His hands were securely on my waist and he guided me onto his lap.

My knees landed on either side of his thighs and no more than a second later, I found myself shuffling closer. I was taller than him now, and it was he now who looked up to me, awaiting a kiss. For a moment, I simply looked at him. With the back of my hand I caressed the line of his cheekbone and upper jaw. "Alex," I whispered, my voice thick and hoarse.

As his fingers moved from my waist, his touch slid down to my thighs. He rubbed them gently before moving back up and around to my buttocks, which he cupped in his possessive masculine hands.

My eyes snapped shut and I jerked at the sudden, sexy aggressiveness. "Ahh," I mewled.

He said nothing as he increased his grip slightly and pulled me closer to him.

My pubic bone struck his with a sharp bump, but I didn't have an opportunity to dwell on that. Instead, my senses were focused on the large, hard swell that was pushing against my aroused, swollen outer lips. "Alex," I panted, eyes widened in shock at the scorching heat that permeated his pants. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," I blurted.

"You want to stop?" he said, his face dipping forward to the hint of cleavage that was visible between the sides of my blouse. As he kissed his way up the curve of one breast, my chest began to heave with breathless excitement and my nipples strained at the lacy fabric of my bra.

"Oh, God," I gasped, lunging my hips forward.

Leaving my right breast, he moved his attention to the right, mumbling against my skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I whimpered, one hand moving in small circles over the back of his head and neck. "No," I repeated.

Once his mouth had explored every inch of skin available to him, he lifted his head and his hands unfurled from around me. His intense eyes had grown darker with lust and he fixed them intently on my face. His fingers then gently untied the knotted scarf around my neck. Sweeping the silk away from my skin, his lips immediately descended on this newly exposed flesh. Setting every inch of my body aflame, he nibbled and licked his way from my collarbone to my earlobe. Meanwhile, his hands were occupied with the buttons of my blouse and were soon edging the cotton off my shoulders.

I quickly released my hold of him to shed the shirt, before wrapping my arms tighter than ever around his neck. "Oh Alex," I whispered, bending my face to his ear and taking the rim gently between my teeth.

"Ugh," he groaned. "I need you." His fingers were at my back, unhooking my bra. With deft, warm hands, he rapidly tugged the material from me, baring my breasts to him.

One nipple was soon enveloped by his hot mouth. His teeth teased the tight distended nub and his tongue tracing it almost reverently.

The need to feel the warmth of his flesh overwhelmed me. Once he released my arms to allow my bra to drop to the floor, I then grasped feverishly at the front of his shirt. With his mouth still intent at my bosom, it was difficult to reach his buttons. With struggled and frustrated groans, I yanked gracelessly at the material.

Eventually, with a chuckle, Alex lifted his face. "Would you like some help?" he asked, his hands smoothing up my torso and caressing the outer edges of my breasts.

Squirming as chills shot down the length of my spine, I exhaled a shaky breath. "I can do it," I eventually said, recovering myself just enough to refocus my attentions on his shirt. Able to see now, I moved smoothly and unfastened three buttons before placing my palm on the toned chest I'd uncovered. It was just as firm and powerful as it had seemed clothed. The warmth and softness was contrasted with rugged dark hair, which was fine and short, and covered much of his upper torso. The rest of the shirt and his tie were still in my way and with a frenzy of movement, I tugged at the tie, slipping the shorter end through the knot and chucking the black silk over my shoulder. Surprising myself, I then pushed the white shirt off his shoulders, dipping my head to kiss his collarbone.

In all my previous sexual encounters, I had been passive. I'd been willing enough, but was too nervous and unsure to make any kind of advance. I'd never even had the nerve to be on top. Sitting astride Alex was, in and of itself, a first. But somehow, with him, nervousness and fear took a backseat. I was driven by desire, the like of which I'd never known. Suddenly, I understood what it was to _want_ someone sexually, to need them so desperately that nothing else in the world mattered; not my parents' expectations or the religious dogma. If the priests and nuns were right and I was going to hell, what a way to go!

Alex leaned forward so he could yank the shirt from his arms, and I instantly threw my hands around his back, pushing my breasts against his solid chest. He glanced up and I brought my face down to his, kissing him passionately as I enjoyed the pressure and warmth of his body against my taut nipples.

As I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, his fingers gripped the hem of my skirt and began to hike it upward. There was purpose and hunger in his actions, but he managed to move with grace and a control that I found very sexy.

Bundling my skirt at my waist, he trailed gentle fingers over the edge of my panties. In response, my hips rocked and pushed my inflamed sex to his engorged penis. With a groan, he removed his lips from mine and looked directly into my eyes. "You are so beautiful," he mumbled, as one hand lifted to my face and scooped a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The fingers of his other hand were slipping down into my panties.

I froze, every muscle in my body tensing with dread. I hadn't prepared for this. If I'd allowed myself to think that it could actually happen, maybe I would have waxed for him; that's what most men like, I thought to myself. As it was, my hair was trimmed and shaved into a neat triangle, but what if he didn't like it? What if he was used to hairless women, and found me unattractive or even disgusting?

The tips of his fingers moved inextricably lower, meeting the hair that began at my pubic bone. He didn't pause; there was no surprise, no reaction of any kind. Instead, his hand continued to smooth lower, eventually reaching my distended lips and drawing his forefinger between them.

I watched his face closely, searching for any sign of disappointment with my body. He was still looking up at me, his features fervid and open. As Alex's moistened finger slid up to my clitoris, my jaw fell open in a silent moan of pleasure. I was no longer able to keep my eyes on his. Instead, they drifted closed and my head dropped back.

"Alex, please," I panted, thrusting slightly and offering my needy opening to his affectionate touch.

However, he did not heed my request. While his index finger continued to roll playfully over the swollen bead, his middle finger stroked between my folds.

He was driving me insane with longing. Blistering heat flushed my face, throbbing desire pulsed through my passage, and an ache of restlessness had settled heavily in my pelvis.

"God, you're sexy," he whispered, his hand at my face curling around the back of my head and coaxing me down to him.

I went willingly, dropping forward until my forehead rested on his. Gradually, I opened my eyes, my vision hazy.

"Look at me," he urged.

I blinked, trying to focus on him. His eyes were so unwavering in their intensity that I felt helpless and vulnerable. My breath was still coming hard and fast in my chest; I kept my gaze on him.

Leaving my clitoris bereft, his forefinger moved to join the middle one and he gently pushed both until the tips slipped almost imperceptibly inside me.

Instinctively, my eyelids drooped as I squirmed in an effort to work him deeper.

He resisted. "Look at me," he repeated, refusing to move.

I forced my eyes open and braced my hands on his shoulders. As soon as my gaze met his once more, he tenderly pushed his fingers forward, curling them as he went and stroking the front wall of my sex.

Sensing that the rules of the game meant he'd stop if I took my focus from him, I continued to watch him. Finding his lips curling in a smile, I offered a shaky grin in return.

"Hmm," he hummed, his fingers questing deeper still. "You feel so good, Mel."

Needing more, my trembling hands quickly descended to his lap and began to unbuckle his belt. Leaving it loose at his waist, I unfastened his pants and tugged down the zipper. He grunted in relief as his erection was offered more space, but it was still firmly held within the confines of his tight boxer briefs. Reaching between the fabric, I shyly wrapped my hand around his shaft and gasped at the realization of just how large he was.

"You okay?" he asked lifting his face and placing his mouth to mine in a quick but expressive kiss.

"Yes," I replied, nodding.

Carefully, I eased him free of his underwear and beheld the sight of him. His circumcised head was pink and glistening with arousal; the shaft was almost completely straight with just the slightest curve that, in that position, caused the bulbous tip to curl toward his belly. It was incredibly thick, at least eight inches in length, and throbbing with a winding, bulging vein.

Clasping him, I worked my hand back and forth, imagining the vastness moving within me. He was considerably bigger than the men I'd been to bed with and I wasn't sure if I could comfortably accommodate him.

However, as his fingers suddenly left me and both hands grabbed either side of my panties, the need to feel him was much greater than my trepidation.

"I'll buy you a new pair," he muttered, before roughly tearing the fabric in his hands and stripping it away from my body.

Uncaring about my underwear, I lifted my weight onto my knee and shuffled forward. His manhood still in my hand, I held him steady, stroking my warm folds over his tip and stopping when we were aligned.

Hesitantly, I pushed down slightly, breathing deeply as I felt my body stretching. "Argh," I gasped. Releasing his shaft, I grasped his shoulders and, with tears forming in my eyes, I looked down at him. I wasn't aware of a desire to cry, it came upon me without warning. Sudden, powerful emotions, coupled with the way his body widened me in its quest for entrance, made me feel as though I was losing my virginity all over again. Only this time, it was exactly as I had always imagined it would be. This was the kind of sex that made women crave it.

"You all right?" Alex softly asked, shifting his head back so he could really look at me.

Silently a tear spilled onto my cheek. "Yeah," I smiled nodding. "It's just..." I said, a lump in my throat strangling the words. "It's been a while," I acknowledged apologetically. "And...umm," I added. "You're...err..."

"It's okay," he smoothly said, halting my pitiful attempts to speak. "We can take it slow," he offered simply. "You're in control."

Giving him a grateful smile, I leaned into him. "Touch me," I whispered.

Using both hands, Alex gently cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the softening nipples and stirring them once again into hot, hard points. Experiencing the warmth between my legs as well as at my chest, I ventured to impale myself further, swallowing up half of him with an ecstatic moan.

The fingers of Alex's right hand fell away from my bosom and slid down to my pubic bone, he pressed his palm against it and rubbed in a circle, before placing his soft finger against my clitoris and stroking in up and down motions.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, my thighs beginning to burn with the effort of keeping myself above him.

"You're so sexy," he mumbled, leaning forward and tracing my left areola with the tip of his tongue.

"Ugh," I groaned, plunging down a little further and experiencing the delicious, powerful sensation of my body lengthening and swelling under the pressure of his large, steely length.

"Mmm," he moaned, his teeth gently gripping the nipple.

Caressing the nape of his neck, I dropped forward and pressed my cheek to the top of his head. "Alex," I mewled, letting go and pushing my hips until they met his, consuming the final two inches of his shaft. My pubic bone was then pressed against his, he was entirely sheathed within me and, as my fingers dug into the thick muscles at his shoulders, I felt the tension slowly release. I felt flutters and throbs as my passage made the final adjustments and then, finally, I relaxed into him.

"Mel," he panted, his breath coming hard against the curve of my breast. "You feel so warm; so soft."

# Chapter Four

For several moments, we remained that way, simply enjoying the fact that we were one. My body quickly grew restless, though, and I rocked uneasily against him. I wanted to feel him moving within me; plunging in and out in that age-old rhythm. However, my legs were trembling and weak; I knew I didn't have the strength left to thrust myself above him. "Alex," I mumbled, running my hands through the short, soft hair at the top of his neck. "I can't..." I murmured, still rocking.

Apparently, he didn't need a more eloquent version and understood my gauche efforts to tell him what I needed. Grasping my hips, he suddenly flipped me to the right, twisting as he moved, so that when my back hit the couch, he was still securely inside me.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it before.

"Yes," I replied, wide-eyed from the shock of our motion, but nodding eagerly.

He claimed my mouth as his hips pulled back slowly. I felt every tiny ridge of veins and twitch of his motion, and moaned into his open lips. He didn't pull completely free, nor did he pause. Instead, he smoothly thrust forward.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh...yes," I whimpered, relishing the power with which he entered me. Still with my shoes in place, I crossed my feet somewhere at the base of his spine before edging them higher and moaning once more as it caused him to sink deeper still.

Again, Alex slowly drew back and this time plunged forward quicker than before.

The head of his shaft struck me sharply and I bucked against him with a squealed mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

"Too much?" he asked, lifting his head in concern.

"No," I breathlessly replied. "Don't stop, don't stop!"

Lifting his upper body, he placed his hands flat on the couch either side of me. Bracing most of his weight, he began to pump his hips faster and with more strength. Each drive forward was coupled with a groan of satisfaction from him and a breathy moan of pleasure from me.

I looked up at him and studied his face, frozen in concentration and biting down on his bottom lip. My hands, which had been at his back, slid down to his buttocks, grasping the large muscles and enjoying the sensation as they clenched each time his hips met mine.

I began to arch, meeting his thrusts, as I felt a pressure building in my pelvis. "Ugh, God," I panted.

"Argh," he groaned, stepping up the speed of his motion.

Each time he filled me, his pubic bone struck my clitoris and, with the increased speed and friction, I experienced the mounting orgasm. Sucking in a breath, I held it as I rolled my hips in a tiny circle.

"Oh, Mel," he breathed. "I'm close."

"Alex," I screamed, feeling that I was about to explode. "Yes, yes, yes!" I mumbled, my eyes clamping shut and fingers contracting tightly at his buttocks. I trembled and my hips jerked and bucked; my internal muscles spasming quickly in an arrhythmic pattern.

"Ugh," he grunted, thrusting once more and remaining deep inside me, his own pelvis jolting as if charged with electricity.

Then the warmth of his seed filled me in three strong bursts, and it suddenly occurred to me that neither one of us had stopped to think about protection.

"Oh, shit," he gasped, breathless and perspiring. Closing his eyes, his face dropped to mine and he kissed me tenderly. "I'm sorry," he panted against my mouth. "I totally forgot."

"It's okay," I responded calmly, as my fingers, which were struck with pins and needles, gradually released their hold of his behind. "I didn't think, either. I'm...err...okay, though. I mean, it's been a long time since I last had sex and that was protected, so I don't have anything."

With lazy eyes, he peered down at me. "I wasn't worried about that," he smiled. "And, just in case you were, I'm safe, too."

"I'm not worried," I replied. At that time, it was the truth, the next day it may have occurred to me to begin worrying, but right then and there, those concerns were far from my mind. I was too fixated on the way he felt within me, how right it seemed to have him fill me completely. He was softening, but still his body was exquisitely secure within mine.

"And, what about...?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm on the pill," I replied, assuring him that the chances of me being impregnated by the encounter were remote. Of course, taking the contraceptive pill was blasphemy as far as my parents were concerned. But it had been advised by my doctor to help regulate my cycle and, more importantly, they didn't know about it.

We lay there, content for several minutes. I didn't mind his bulk pushing me into the couch. Somehow it felt comforting. Occasionally, we'd share a sleepy kiss or one of us would release a satisfied sigh that caused the other to chuckle. However, as we gradually began to feel the chill in the air and our bodies and brains returned to the reality of our situation, I wondered where we'd go from here.

Alex began to get up, saying, "I guess we ought to get dressed, we'll be landing in a few minutes."

I stopped him, curling my arms around him. I needed to know something before we parted, before real life butted its way back into the perfect moments we'd shared. "So, umm...I guess I'll have to look for another job?" I suggested, a hopefully little smile on my lips.

"Why?" he asked, his dark brows creasing.

My heart sank and the smile faded. "Oh," I sighed, releasing him as if his skin burnt me. "I just thought," I muttered. "Never mind," I insisted, shaking my head and pushing at his chest in an effort to slip out from underneath him.

"You thought what?" he asked, refusing to budge. "What's wrong?"

"I just thought that this meant something," I gabbled. "I'm sorry."

"It _did_ mean something," he responded quickly. "But I don't-" he stopped himself, a dawning realization lifting the heaviness of his confused eyebrows. Smiling, he placed a hand on my cheek, rubbing his curved forefinger over my jaw. "I've always made it a rule not to get involved with people I work with," he sighed, grinning broadly. "But I think I'm prepared to make an exception for you."

Noting the sparkle in his sincere eyes, I knew he wasn't simply telling me what I wanted to hear. "Are you sure?" I asked, suddenly concerned that I was causing him to backtrack on his personal ethics.

"I'm sure," he replied. "I don't want to fly with anyone else," he assured me softly. His lips slowly descending and, seeming to seal the deal, he molded his mouth to mine.

While trying to kiss him back, I found myself unable to prevent the silly grin that contorted my lips. Something told me that work was about to get a lot more interesting.

### To be continued...

### Thank you for reading!

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