Wyoming Wife?. Shawna DelacorteЧитать онлайн книгу.
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