When I Dream Of You. Laurie PaigeЧитать онлайн книгу.
as raising the Titanic. He gave a cynical snort of laughter.
In his room, stripped and ready to climb between the sheets, he paused at the window, drawn again to the lake and the house on the hill beyond. Bathed in moonlight, the scene looked eerie and surreal, the house a gothic mansion of mystery and danger.
His body stirred as it had while he held Megan in his arms during the one dance they had shared. A horse trainer and breeder, she was slender, strong and lithe as a willow twig. The small calluses on her palms at the base of each finger said she was no stranger to work. He liked that in a person, man or woman.
Her hair was light auburn with lots of sun streaks, all acquired naturally. She had a few freckles on her nose. Her eyes were a mossy green outlined with charcoal gray, as inviting to a man as a patch of shade in a hidden glen.
Hunger pinged through him, reminding him of the feel of her in his arms—all bright warmth and feminine delight, enough to tempt a man into foolishness. He’d been surprised at the strength of the hunger she’d aroused. With an effort, he brought his thoughts and libido under control.
The expression in the verdant depths of her eyes had bothered him. Her smile had been forced. Something was definitely bothering the last single Windom cousin.
Perhaps she was jealous that Shannon had snagged Rory Daniels instead of her. After all, the vet was her business partner in the breeding program. And Rory was “drop-dead gorgeous,” according to all the women in the county.
Kyle was suddenly glad his old friend was safely married and out of the way. With a curse, he turned his back on the night scene and hurried to bed. He had no designs on Megan Windom. After all, they were mortal enemies.
That was a bit over-dramatic, but their grandfathers had definitely been enemies. He wasn’t sure what had happened between their parents; however, he was positive his father hadn’t been carrying on with another woman. It just wasn’t in the man’s makeup to be deceptive.
Or was he viewing the world through the rose-colored lens of youth? His own life had been happy and confident before the accident and underscored with bitterness and questions afterward.
What had happened that day on the lake? It was something he’d like to find out.
Megan woke to a chorus of chirrups just as the sun came over the far eastern peak. Snuggled under the comforter, she stayed in the warm bed and let her mind drift aimlessly.
No matter how warm the day, when night fell in the mountains, the temperature dropped into the chilly zone, sometimes near freezing. She’d always loved that early-morning crispness.
But today she was tired. Five hours of sleep hadn’t been enough to restore her body. Or her spirits, she admitted as a fresh wave of melancholy rolled over her.
However, Monday was a busy day. She had riding classes late that afternoon, plus the usual chores of feeding the stock and checking them over for parasites and pinkeye.
She threw the covers back. Only one way to deal with low spirits, she’d found. Get up and get busy!
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, cherry tomatoes and cantaloupe, she took an insulated mug of coffee to the barn with her. She was just in time.
The mare lay in the straw, her sides heaving in and out like a bellows in a blacksmith shop. Her water burst and spewed a geyser of salty fluid over the straw. The tiny hooves of the forefeet appeared.
Good. No breech birth to worry about. She wouldn’t have to call out her partner and the local vet, Rory, who was now on the first day of his honeymoon. Although he and Shannon had decided not to travel, Megan would have felt terrible about asking for help.
Everything proceeded according to nature, though, and she chuckled as a very new filly tried to get her wobbly legs to cooperate so she could find her very first meal.
Megan and the mare helped, then Megan hung her jacket on a nail and set about cleaning up. After mucking out the stall, she spread fresh straw around and tossed a scoop of oats in the bin. Mother and daughter ate, then lay down for their first nap together. Megan got all choked up.
Pulling on the coat and grabbing the mug, she went outside to check the rest of her charges. She had three horses to train for recreation riding and one to correct for bad habits, such as biting a person on the leg when anyone tried to mount him. In addition, she was working with four yearlings to prepare them for the show ring.
She pulled in a deep breath. This was the life she loved. What more could one ask for?
The answer came swiftly. Her early memories, for starters. Contentment for another. With a wry grimace, she added wealth, happiness and Prince Charming. There, that should cover everything. Where was that genie in the bottle when a gal needed him?
Across the lake, she heard the drone of an engine. Glancing that way, she watched Kyle Herriot maneuver a small powerboat onto the placid water. He sped off toward the other end of the lake. Fishing, probably.
She recalled his mother was to have left early that morning for a vacation with one of her schoolteacher friends, another widow, so Kyle was on his own, too. She idly wondered if he could cook, a task she had little patience with.
Which reminded her, she needed to make a grocery list. The last month had been given over to wedding preparations and the refrigerator had gradually filled with special dishes as the big day drew near. She’d eaten whatever was on hand and easy to fix, usually frozen entrées heated in the microwave oven.
She checked all the horses, repaired a fence, then headed back to the house. The temperature was rising rapidly. The afternoons were hot due to a high-pressure system sitting over this part of the state. She’d welcome a thundershower to settle the dust.
After freshening up, she took off for town in the ranch wagon, a list of chores in her pocket. The first person she saw at the feed store was Kyle. His fishing expedition hadn’t lasted long.
Her insides clenched up.
She didn’t like that a bit. He neither frightened nor attracted her, so why the emotional twinge?
“Good morning,” he said when he saw her. He held open the door. No smile graced the planes and ridges of his face.
“Good morning. Did your mother get off on her trip okay?” she asked, pleased with the polite distance in her tone that gave nothing of her restless emotions away.
Her dreams had been filled with scenes she couldn’t interpret—him and her, running from something, then her running from him while ghostly figures hovered ominously on the sidelines.
“Yes, considering she was afraid the ranch would fall apart without her watchful eye on things.”
His rueful answer took her by surprise. So did the amusement in his eyes, which looked more silver than gray in the morning light.
“Mothers,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth.
He seemed to stare at her mouth for a long minute before nodding. She turned down the first aisle of the store to escape him, then rubbed her lips to see if she had egg on her face.
She yanked out her list and hurried to the huge bags of feed. She might have known—Kyle was already there. He moved over so she could make her selections.
“Who’s first?” the proprietor asked when he came to wait on them.
“He was.”
“She was.”
Megan glanced at Kyle in annoyance. “He was,” she said firmly.
He shrugged. “I’m getting a hundred pounds of the special mix. I can handle it.”
Megan watched him hoist a bag of feed as if it weighed no more than a five-pound bag of sugar. Muscles rippled in his arms and shoulders while others bunched in his thighs as he rose and slung the bag over his shoulder in one smooth movement. The owner dumped her order onto a wheelbarrow with a grunt, then headed out to her vehicle.