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Mystic Cowboy(26)

By:Sarah Anderson


He hadn’t kissed her. And she was disappointed about that—why? “The one Dad loved.”

“That’s kind of what I thought.” And her top shirt was over her head, leaving her feeling naked in a tank top.

“Madeline,” he said, his voice pushing its way past her heated daze and pouring cool, clear water on her soul. His hands found her shoulders again, tracing the straps of her tank top. “No bra?”

If possible, she got hotter. “Don’t need one when I’m not in the office.” She’d long ago given up on being jealous of Mellie’s fabu set of girls, but in an instant, she wished she had something more to bring to this particular little party.

“Hmm. A necklace.” His fingers undid the leather strap of her necklace without hesitation, which didn’t leave a doubt in her mind that a bra wouldn’t have slowed him down a bit. He let the ends of the necklace trail off her skin. “Madeline,” he whispered again, his accent taking each syllable and making it something different, something new. “I won’t look.” His eyes locked on hers with laser-like intensity. “I promise.”

And then he went for the tank top.

By now, Madeline was powerless to stop him. His voice had her mesmerized. The heat wasn’t helping. The promise of cool release was all she could think about.

That, and she didn’t know what to do with her arms. The tank top was a lot tighter than her top shirt had been. Her elbows had to go somewhere, and she was desperately afraid she was going to clock him in the nose. Of all the problems with this moment, that was the one that unexpectedly had her frantic.

He solved the problem for her. His hands guided her arms up as he stripped her of her shirt, and then he dropped the shirt behind him so that her arms were around his neck. Which brought their bare chests within a breath of touching.

Her eyes were not focusing like they should. She knew she needed to cool off before the heat stroke got serious, but all she could think was that with one stiff breeze her nipples would be introducing themselves to his bare skin.

On the bright side, at this distance, he couldn’t see said nipples. She had that going for her.

“Mad-e-line,” he repeated, each syllable a prayer said by a man hell-bent on sinning. He slid his hands down her exposed back, each fingertip finding something new to explore. Then he was undoing her button, then her zipper, then his palms were flat against her skin, sliding under the jeans and pushing them down. “Madeline.”

Name. Names. His name. Despite her befuddled state, a dim, flickering light went off. “Jonathan,” she whispered, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth was.

He froze. Absolutely froze against her, and damn it all, her nipples went rock hard. She ignored her stupid nipples and focused on the victorious fact that she had outflanked him. For once, she had outflanked him. “Jonathan Runs Fast.”

“Who told you that?” His voice was off-balance, scared even.

“Karen. From the High Plains Gallery. I bought a green bag. With pipe.”

He swallowed—her eyes were level with his Adam’s apple. “You overpaid in commission.”

She was going to enjoy this. She thought. Already, her perceived victory was leaving a funny taste in her mouth. “It was worth it, Jonathan.”

His hands went hard against her. “Don’t. Don’t call me that.” He swallowed again. “Please.”

“Why not?”

He leaned away from her, catching her eyes and holding them tight with his again. “Because.” His fingers found her face again, and he cupped her cheeks. His eyes weren’t looking at anything but hers. “That’s what my ex-wife called me.”





Chapter Six

If possible, her cheeks shot even redder than a summer tomato as everything soft about her in his arms turned to steel. “Excuse me? Your ex-wife?”

He didn’t want to talk about Anna. He wanted to get Madeline into the water, get her cooled off so he could heat her up again. But, as usual, Anna had popped up out of nowhere, leaving him to deal with the wreckage. “Not a big deal. One of those starter marriages. Over before it got going, really.”

Which was kind of how his afternoon was beginning to feel. Over before it got properly started.

“Why?” she demanded, managing to look a little ferocious even as she sounded like she’d been swallowing sand.

“She took one look at the rez and ran screaming.” Against his will, his hands began to slide down, grabbing more of what he couldn’t see. Her skin had a give to it that just begged a man to grab another handful.

“Don’t,” she snapped, lurching away from him.