Wyoming Wife?

He took a couple of steps into the room, then paused. He allowed his gaze to travel up to the soft silk that clung to the curve of her breast. The wrinkled and disheveled condition of her clothes could not hide the enticing sight that made his blood course a little faster. He closed his eyes for a moment. He knew he could not continue to stare at her as if she were a hot meal and he hadn’t eaten in four years—regardless of how much his gaze wanted to linger.

He crossed the den and stood behind her. “Let me help you.”

“Oh!” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her arm. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you come into the room.”

“What is it you’re trying to reach?”

She turned back toward the books and extended her arm, pointing to the object of her interest. “I was trying to get that book.” A tremor of delight suffused her body when she felt him brush against her back and shoulder.

He reached past her and grabbed the tome from the shelf. He felt her warmth, an almost seductive heat that grabbed hold of him and refused to let go. He took a steadying breath as he tried to regain control. He had difficulty getting out the words. “Is there anything else you wanted?”

“No...nothing else.” She turned to face him and found herself so close that their bodies almost touched. His silver eyes captured her just as surely as if he had wrapped her in his embrace. She felt the very real pull of his magnetic sexuality. It nearly took her breath away. No one had ever made her feel that way before, certainly not her ex-fiancé.

He handed her the book, then quickly took a step backward.

Her words were almost a whisper. “Thank you.”

His gaze fell on her mouth for a moment. Her lips slowly parted. Her lower lip quivered slightly as she ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip in a nervous manner. He swallowed hard, then took another calming breath in an attempt to find some composure. “I’m sorry to have left you on your own like this, but a storm of this magnitude requires extra work. Snow is not uncommon, but a raging blizzard this time of year is unusual. We don’t usually get hit this hard until after Christmas. We could be in for a few rough days.”

She followed his lead by engaging in idle chitchat in an attempt to impose some control on what was happening. “I understand perfectly. I certainly don’t want to be a bother to you. I know you have lots to do.” She felt a shortness of breath caused by his close proximity. She had such a tenuous hold on her soaring desires, and the totally unfamiliar state left her feeling very uncomfortable.

She clutched the book tightly in her hand. The way he continued to look at her did not help matters at all. “I...uh.” She nervously played with the gold chain around her neck. “I just realized that I never properly thanked you for your timely rescue. Everything happened so quickly. My car skidded into a snowdrift, then your helicopter swooped down out of the sky. The next thing I knew I was standing in your living room. I guess it took me a while to catch up with all of it.”

She awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “When I looked out the window a few minutes ago and saw the way the snow was coming down and the wind blowing, I realized just how much trouble I would have been in if you hadn’t come along. And your hospitality—” She could not handle being this close to him. She put some more space between them. “I want to do something to repay your kindness.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. “Maybe I could pay for my room and meals...”

Jace experienced a pang of disappointment at the turn of events, but he was glad that she’d decided to put more distance between them. He had been very tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss that very alluring mouth. It was a temptation that had been growing stronger and stronger despite the fact that he didn’t want it to be so.

He quickly recovered and addressed her last comment, just a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “You want to pay me for your room and meals? This isn’t a boarding house. I guess things are different in Los Angeles and other real cities. This is ranch country. Neighbors help out neighbors. Quite often we are dependent on each other, especially in emergency situations like now. That same courtesy extends to strangers in need, too.”

The shocked look on her face made him regret the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. It wasn’t like him. He was not an argumentative type of person. There was just something about Samantha Burkett that seemed to make him say things totally out of character. It was almost as if he were trying to build a wall between them for fear it would prove much too tempting if he allowed her to get too close.

In the four years since his wife’s death he’d managed to drag himself up from the depths of despair and get on with his life. The first two years had been very difficult, but the past two years had settled into a normal routine that he was able to live with. He’d pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he would never find another special woman who could be part of his life.

One thing was for certain, he was not ready to expose that fragile place that he’d so carefully hidden away. And even if he did eventually take a chance on exposing those emotions, it would not be with someone as totally unsuited as Samantha Burkett. They were from two different worlds and obviously had nothing in common in spite of the fact that she managed to fan the nearly dead embers of his desires into flames.

Samantha was totally taken aback by his abrupt change in attitude. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m accustomed to taking care of myself and paying my own way without depending on others. I didn’t want you to think I was a freeloader. Perhaps there’s something I could do to help out.”

“Well...I am a little shorthanded with Helen gone. Maybe you could fill in on some of her chores.” It wasn’t that he actually needed her help, but he thought it might give her something to do to occupy her time until the storm lifted. Then she would be on her way. As abruptly as she’d appeared, she would just as quickly be gone. They’d remain two people totally unsuited for each other, whose paths happened to momentarily cross one stormy day. Nothing more.

“Uh...yes, of course.” She glanced down at the floor, then recaptured his gaze and extended her best professional smile. “I’m not sure how much of a help I’ll be, but I’m certainly willing to try. In fact, why don’t I start right now by making some coffee? I’m sure this type of cold day calls for something hot to drink, especially after working outside the way you have been.”

“While you’re doing that, I’m going to put on some dry clothes.” Jace hurried down the ball to his bedroom, closed the door, then leaned back against it. He expelled a long, slow breath. A line from the movie Casablanca immediately leaped to mind. He changed it slightly to fit his own personal inner turmoil. Qf all the back reads in the county, why did she have to get stuck on mine?

Samantha carried the book to the guest room and placed it on the night stand. She would read it later. Right now she had other things to do. In the kitchen— certainly not her favorite room and not where she displayed her greatest proficiency. She squared her shoulders, clenched her jaw and marched determinedly down the hall and through the living room. She repeated the words over and over in her mind, I can do this...I can do this.

She carefully measured out the proper amount of coffee from the canister, then added the water and turned on the coffeepot. Next she set out two cups and saucers. She found a sugar bowl, then poured some milk into a cream pitcher. She arranged everything on the table, along with napkins and a spoon next to his coffee cup. She didn’t know if he took cream or sugar in his coffee, but she wanted to make sure she was prepared for the eventuality. She stood back and surveyed the scene with a critical eye. She knew it was only coffee, but she wanted to make sure she had not forgotten anything.

“Samantha?” Jace’s voice came from the living room moments later.

She heard him call her name, and a fraction of a second later the butterflies began to flit around inside her stomach. She took a calming breath, then called out to him. “In the kitchen.”

“Did you find everything okay?” He walked directly to the cupboard and took out a mug without even glancing at the table she had so painstakingly prepared. He grabbed the pot and filled the mug. He took one sip of the coffee, held it in his mouth for a moment, then finally swallowed it. He stared into the mug and scrunched his face into a disagreeable frown before looking quizzically at Samantha. “What is this stuff?”

“It’s coffee.” She didn’t have a clue what had prompted his question and strange behavior. “What did you think it was?”

He dumped the contents of the mug, picked up the pot and poured the rest of the coffee down the drain.

She rushed to the sink, watched the coffee swirl down the drain, then stared up at him. Her bewilderment carried over into the tone of her voice. “What’s wrong? What do you think you’re doing?”

He threw away the used coffee grounds and started anew. “I’m making coffee. That stuff you made could more aptly be referred to as tea.”

“Wait just a minute...” She felt the anger flush across her cheeks. “There was nothing wrong with that coffee. That’s the way I always make it and I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“Well, maybe your friends are ultrapolite or maybe they’ve never had to warm up after being out in a blizzard. Either way, coffee has to be a lot stronger than this barely tinted hot water of yours.”

“Strong coffee is not good for the system. Studies show—”

He whirled around to face her. “Studies aren’t going to warm me up after being outdoors in a subzero windchill factor.”

She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, but it crept in anyway. “This falls within the realm of my area of expertise. Studies of the coffee-drinking habits of office workers clearly show—”

His retort was immediate and emphatic. “Running a ranch does not have a parallel connection to working in an office. It’s like comparing horses and cattle. They may both be four-legged animals, but that doesn’t mean they’re interchangeable in their uses.”

Her anger flared. She glowered at him as she jumped on what she felt was his unwarranted criticism. “Your horses and cows don’t have a thing to do with—”

He moved so quickly that Samantha didn’t have time to react. One minute they were engaged in a disagreement that could have turned into a full-scale argument, and the next minute his mouth covered hers with a heated intensity unlike anything she had ever before experienced—a heated intensity that was at the same time strangely hesitant and unsure, a heated intensity that tasted of longing and loneliness as much as desire.

Her first reaction was to pull away from him, even though his attentions were far from being unwanted. It was all so sudden, so startling, so unplanned...and so very exciting. His warmth flowed through her, providing her with a taste of the passion that existed beneath the cool exterior of Jace Tremayne. She lifted her arms around his neck. Then she felt herself being pulled into his embrace.

There was a strength about him that came from the security of knowing who he was and being content with that knowledge. He was a man who knew what he wanted out of life and where he was going. It was the type of strength she had longed for, the type of strength that had eluded her in her drive to please her parents, the type of strength she had not found in the person of Jerry Kensington. It was an honesty she found very appealing... and incredibly sexy.

Three

It would be difficult to say which one broke off the kiss, Jace or Samantha. They seemed to each pull back at the same time. For a long moment they stood together, still entwined in an embrace. The howling wind faded into the background. An almost deafening silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of breathing. Each seemed to be lost in the depths of the other’s eyes, looking into the soul in search of...of what? Then reality intruded into the moment and the spell was broken.

Samantha stepped away, coming to an abrupt halt when she backed up against the edge of the kitchen sink. There was no question that the kiss had a very disconcerting effect on her. Her heart pounded. She fought against the shortness of breath that tried to take hold. All the while his silvery-eyed gaze held her as close as his arms had just moments earlier. She didn’t know what to say to him about what had just happened. He might have been the one to take her by surprise, but she was every bit as willing a participant as he had been.

She forced her gaze away, glancing out the window at the raging storm. Daylight had faded into gray remnants that would soon be night The next logical thing would be to fix dinner. That was what she needed to do. She needed to bring a logical order to these unquestionably illogical proceedings. That kiss never happened. It was the best way for her to handle the awkward situation.

“Well...” Her voice cracked as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Yes, it’s almost dinnertime.” The huskiness surrounding his words belied his cool and calm exterior. “I have some paperwork to take care of, shouldn’t take me more than half an hour. When I’m done, I’ll see about getting some dinner on the table.”

She immediately jumped in, eager to change the tone of what had been happening. “Let me do it. I can fix dinner while you’re taking care of your business.”

“You don’t need to. Unless you’re starving and can’t wait, I’ll take care of it in a little while.”

“Really, I don’t mind. I’d like to contribute something.” She could feel herself getting in over her head. but she did not seem to be able to stop the words. “I don’t mind preparing dinner.”

“Well...if you’re sure you don’t mind.” He wanted to get out of the room and away from her. He needed to remove himself from her presence before he did something foolish again.

He turned toward the kitchen door. “I’ll be in my office if you need me...I mean, if you need anything.” He hurried out of the room without waiting for any response from her.

As much as Jace wanted to take her in his arms again, to taste the sweetness of that delectable mouth, he knew it was out of the question. He also knew that a quick retreat was the only thing that would prevent him from doing just that. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the memory of her body pressed against his to wash over him. When he woke that morning, all he’d had to look forward to was extra work preparing for a freak blizzard. It never occurred to him that a simple little thing like pulling a stranded motorist out of the snow could cause him all this inner turmoil, but it had.

He made a decision. The best way for him to handle things was to simply pretend the kiss never happened. He would take care of his paperwork, have dinner, then go to bed early and read for a while. The morning would be a new day, and with any luck the storm would have spent its fury. And when the storm moved on, so would Samantha. She would return to her world and her lifestyle, and he would get on with life. He sat at his desk, turned on the computer and pulled up the file he needed.

In the dining room, Samantha placed the water glasses on the table, then surveyed the setting with a critical eye. What she saw met with her satisfaction. Next she turned her attention to the meal itself. A shudder ran up her back, the sign of apprehension that always appeared whenever she attempted to do something she knew was totally out of her area of expertise. Why in the world had she volunteered to fix dinner of all things? It was stupid for her to have made such an irrational offer, but to have followed it up by insisting...well, it was too late now.

Returning to the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents. She was not sure where to begin. A salad. She knew she could handle that without any trouble. She found a nice selection of ingredients—lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms and bean sprouts. She had also seen some croutons in a cupboard earlier that day. She took a salad bowl from the shelf, then washed the vegetables.

After twenty minutes of careful, conscientious work she had an attractive salad on the table along with formal dinner place settings. She pursed her lips and frowned as she continued to stare. She could be happy with a salad for dinner, but she knew a hardworking rancher would be needing something a lot more substantial than that.

She again stared at the contents of the refrigerator. The only meat she saw that was not frozen was a chicken—a whole chicken that had not been cut into individual pieces. She grabbed the package and set it on the counter. She had never even attempted to cut up a chicken before. She picked up a sharp knife, hesitated a moment, then put it down. She clenched her jaw in determination. For some insane and totally unfathomable reason she had volunteered to fix dinner, and that was what she intended to do. She picked up the knife again.

Jace printed out a report then turned off the computer. He had stalled long enough. There was nothing left for him to do but return to the kitchen. He pushed back from the desk, rose from his chair, took a deep breath and left the room.

He paused at the kitchen door. Samantha had a knife in one hand and a chicken in the other. He wasn’t sure exactly what she was trying to accomplish, but whatever it was, she was making a mess of it. If he didn’t stop the disaster, there wouldn’t be enough of the bird left to serve as dinner for even one person, let alone two people.

Jace crossed the room and took the knife from her, pausing a moment to use the blade to poke at the heap on the cutting board. “What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He suppressed a little chuckle. “You’ve hacked at this poor bird until it’s almost unrecognizable.”

She looked at her miserable attempt, then back at Jace. To have taken offense at his accusation would have been a waste of time. The evidence was obvious, his statement could not be denied. A hint of embarrassment surrounded her words. “I—I’ve never had to do this before. The ones in the grocery store are already cut up.”

“What were you planning to do with this poor chicken after you finished torturing it?” He noticed that she had selected the wrong type of knife, so he retrieved the proper one from the drawer and expertly separated the thighs from the legs and split the breast in two.

“I—I’m not sure. I guess cook it...somehow. Maybe in...uh...well, there’s the oven.” She made a feeble gesture toward the stove, then shrugged in a halfhearted manner that said she clearly did not have any sort of a plan in mind. In an attempt to salvage whatever credibility she could, she pointed to the table in the dining room. “I made a salad.”

“So I see.” He also saw that the table was set for a dinner party, not for dinner. She had made a salad but had nearly destroyed a chicken. He folded his arms across his chest and leveled an appraising look at her while doing his best to hide his amusement.

Samantha steeled herself against Jace’s penetrating gaze. She made her living with her communication skills. Her strengths centered on her ability to analyze a problem and pinpoint an efficient and logical solution. However, this one had her stumped. She had nowhere to go and no viable excuse to offer. She had only the truth, as mortifying as it was. She looked at him, squared her shoulders, took a determined breath, then blurted out, “I can’t cook. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” She glanced around the kitchen, then returned her attention to Jace. “Maybe if you had a microwave...”

He stared at her for a moment, disbelief covering his face. “You don’t know how to cook?”

“I’ve never had occasion or the time to learn. I’ve been too busy, first with school and then with my career.” She tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. “The fact that I’m a woman doesn’t mean I was born with a fully realized set of domestic skills.”

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