Christmas With the Mustang Man (9 page)

His nostrils flared. “Like I said before, I don't plan on kissing you again.”

For some reason his cocky promise raked over every womanly particle inside of Dallas and before she realized what she was doing, she'd moved close enough to stick her face right in front of his. “I think you're the one who's worried, Boone.”

She watched his gaze dropped to her lips and anticipation shivered right through her.

“Me?” he asked softly. “What do I have to be worried about?”

“That you kissed me—and you liked it.”

D
allas didn't know what had possessed her to throw such a taunt at Boone. He wasn't the sort of man who would take a dare lightly, even from a woman.

And he didn't.

The next thing Dallas knew she was crushed tightly against him and her mouth was completely captured beneath his lips.

In spite of the cold wind whipping through the barnyard and slapping at the side of her face, Dallas was instantly suffused with heat from the top of her head right down to the soles of her feet. The taste of his lips was a dark, mysterious promise that made her want more and more.

Instinctively, her arms crept up and around his neck and her mouth opened even wider to accept the gentle prod of his tongue. At the same time, his hands slipped beneath the hem of her jacket and latched onto the sides
of her waist. When he pulled her hips forward to press against his, she groaned deep in her throat and tightened her fingers against the back of his neck.

Drawn deeper and deeper into a swirl of sweet sensations, Dallas was stunned when his mouth suddenly ripped from hers and he shoved an arm's length of distance between them. “Better be careful, Ms. Donovan, this coyote might turn into a wolf,” he warned softly. “Or is that what you're aiming for—to knock me off balance?”

Struggling to pull herself from the dreamy fog of his kiss, she sucked in a deep breath and hoped the cold wind would fade the hot color in her cheeks.

“I'm not the one who started this,” she said in a low, strained voice.

“Maybe not. But you can damned well be sure that
I'm
going to be the one who ends it.”

This time Dallas wasn't going to argue, nor was she about to fling another taunt at him. For the next few days she had to live under the same roof with this man and that didn't include falling into bed with him.

Just remember, honey, if you play with fire, you're likely to get burned.

Her grandmother Kate's sage advice had often been repeated to Dallas and her two sisters as they'd gone through their teenaged dating years. And though that time in her life was long past, the hackneyed warning aptly fit her present situation. Boone Barnett was definitely too much fire for Dallas to handle.

Her nostrils flaring with disgust that was aimed at herself and him, she turned toward the stallion and snatched up the bridle reins. “You won't have to. It's ended,” she said flatly. “Let's get on with the horses. After all, that's why I'm here.”

She jammed the toe of her boot in the stirrup and started to swing herself onto the horse's back, but before she could lift her other foot off the ground, Boone's hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up and into the saddle.

The innocuous touch shouldn't have affected her. Especially when back on the Diamond D there were plenty of ranch hands around who were always more than eager to give her a leg up. She never gave their physical assistance a second thought. But it was different with Boone. Oh, so different.

“Thanks,” she said stiffly as she settled herself in the saddle seat.

With his hand resting alarmingly close to her thigh, he glanced up at her. “He's not wearing a bit, just a hacka-more.”

She focused her gaze on the long black mane lying thickly on the left side of the horse's neck. It was certainly a safer sight than Boone's stony face, she thought. “I had already noticed that.”

He added, “You don't need to use a heavy hand to get him to respond.”

She wasn't a greenhorn, she wanted to scream at him. She'd grown up in the saddle and was considered by most to be an excellent horsewoman. But just as quickly she reminded herself that this man didn't know that about her. He was only trying to protect his horse.

“Don't worry,” she said in a gentler tone, “I'll get the feel of him.”

She pressed her heels into the horse's sides and Boone immediately stepped back as she rode away from him.

What in hell was he thinking? He mentally yelled the question at himself as he watched Dallas ease the stallion into a faster walk. More importantly what was
she
thinking? About him and that kiss he planted on her last night? And now—damn it, he might as well have hung a sign around his neck saying,
I want to kiss you, touch you all over, carry you to my bed and make love to you for hours.

Muttering a curse to himself, Boone swiped a hand over his face, then pressed his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes.

This wasn't like him. Boone knew it. And so did Mick. He'd not missed the look of shock on his friend's face when Dallas had explained to him that she'd be staying on the ranch for the next few days. For the past year or so Boone hadn't even bothered to date. And he'd sure as heck never had female guests in his house. He didn't want any woman
that
close to him. Nor did he want one getting close to Hayley. Joan had pushed the both of them through a wringer and left them to hang in the desert wind. He and his daughter didn't need the risk of being hurt like that again.

So why had he insisted on Dallas staying on the ranch? Now he couldn't keep his hands off her. And she wasn't helping matters with the way she'd melted against him. She'd kissed him as though she'd really wanted to kiss him, as though he was somebody special.

Special hell, he silently grunted. She was clearly a ranching heiress. She could have her pick of men and it sure wouldn't include a horse trainer and cattle rancher who had to work from sunup to sundown just to scratch out a meager living. No. Kisses or not, he had to quit making a fool of himself.

Heaving out a sigh, he dropped his hand and gazed across the open ranch yard to see that Dallas was already cantering the stallion in a figure-eight pattern. The sight had him momentarily forgetting about the hot kiss they'd
just exchanged. He was instantly awed by the perfect way she sat in the saddle and the subtle cues her hands and legs gave instructing the horse. She definitely knew what she was doing and then some.

For the next few minutes, she put the horse through a series of roll-backs, turns and stops. His hands jammed in the pockets of his jacket, Boone stood where he was and watched until she finally rode over to him and dismounted with a lithe jump.

“He's fabulous, Boone! He practically knew what I wanted from him before I ever asked.” Her lips spread into a wide smile. “You've done a wonderful job with him. Really wonderful!”

Boone tried to remain indifferent to her compliment, but he couldn't deny the warm rush of feelings pouring through him. To have an excellent horsewoman praise his efforts was one thing, but she was also beautiful and classy, and could have her pick of horses and trainers.

“Thanks. I've got ninety days of training in him.”

Her eyes widened with amazement. “That's all? Oh, wow! You
are
good.”

Before he even realized it, Boone was chuckling at her remark. “Dallas, didn't your father ever tell you that you should keep your thoughts to yourself when you're dealing for horses?”

She laughed outright and the sound pleased him far more than it should have. She had a sweet, rich laugh that danced over his senses like sunshine sparkling on water.

“I'd make a terrible poker player. When I like something I don't hide my feelings. Besides, I'm not one to bargain. If I believe a price is fair, then I buy. If not, I simply say thanks and be on my way.”

When I like something I don't hide my feelings
. She certainly hadn't tried to hide them when he'd been kiss
ing her, Boone thought. Just the memory of her lips opening beneath his, her arms slipping around his neck, was enough to curl his toes. But that was over. He had to make sure it was over.

“I promise the price will be fair,” he said.

She turned back to the horse and stroked a hand against his neck. “Does he have a name?”

“No. I don't name the ones I train to sell. It makes it easier whenever I have to let them go.” Dear God, she was probably thinking he was as soft as cornmeal mush. But he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't get attached to the mustangs. Aside from his daughter, they were his whole life. He spent hours and hours each day in their company. How could he not love them?

“Well, I think I'll call him Midnight. Not too imaginative. But he's dark and peaceful, like the middle of a quiet night.”

He watched her fingers continue to stroke slowly and smoothly down the horse's shoulder. “Does that mean you want him?”

Twisting her head around, she looked at him with surprise. “Of course!”

“But I haven't quoted a price to you yet.”

A slow grin spread across her lips and Boone felt the heat that was already simmering low in his belly threaten to leap into a flame.

“You said you'd be fair and I trust you to keep your word.”

Something in her voice said she was talking about more than the price of a horse and the idea jolted him. Joan had once trusted him with her very happiness and he'd let her down. Before Dallas left the ranch, he figured he'd probably let her down, too.

“All right.” He reached for the stallion's reins. “Let's
take your Midnight back to the barn and saddle up another one.”

“Oh, let's do the brown mare next,” she said as they quickly strode toward the group of tethered horses. “I've already decided that she's Princess.”

Her excitement was contagious and Boone couldn't stop himself from smiling. “You can already tell that title fits her, can you?”

She laughed. “The moment I looked in her eyes.”

 

For the first time Boone could remember, the morning passed too quickly. When Mick drove back into the ranch yard it was nearly noon and Dallas had already gone into the house to find something for lunch. He'd just finished hanging a saddle in the tack room and was on his way out of the barn when his friend met him in the open doorway.

“Was the windmill working?” Boone asked before the other man had a chance to speak.

“No. But there was plenty of water left in the tank. I've been trying to fix the thing for the past two hours. It's going right now. But I wouldn't hold my breath.”

Boone grimaced. “We're going to have to replace the old thing. It's causing us more time and trouble than it's worth. And I don't want that tank going dry.”

“No. It's probably a good two-mile trip to the other one,” Mick said, then glanced curiously around Boone's shoulder and into the dim cavern of the barn. “Ms. Donovan gone in the house?”

“She got hungry for lunch,” Boone explained. “I was just about to join her. You want to eat with us?”

Mick cast him a droll glance. “Three makes one too many. I've got a sandwich in the truck anyway. I'm gonna
wolf it down, then saddle up and check that fence line down by the riverbed.”

Boone pushed the brim of his hat slightly off his brow as he studied his longtime friend. He should ignore Mick's comment about one too many, but he couldn't let it slide. Mick had been his friend for thirty-four years, ever since they'd walked in Miss Grayson's kindergarten class the very first day. The two had been through thick and thin together and he was the closest thing to a brother Boone would ever have.

“There's no need for you to choke down your sandwich out here. Dallas and I don't need the kind of privacy you're thinking about. For Pete's sake, I've just met the woman.”

Mick's expression was uncharacteristically serious as he looked at Boone. “Yeah. And from the way things look you must have gotten acquainted real quick.”

“What does that mean?”

Mick shot him a look of disbelief. “You have to ask? Since when has a woman spent the night in your house—other than your mother when she was still living?”

Boone shook his head. “None. But you're reading way too much in this, Mick. The woman's truck broke down. Where else was she going to stay?”

“How about a hotel in town? That's the logical place.”

That's what Dallas had said, too. But Boone had talked her out of it. And right now he didn't want to dig too deeply into his reasons. Common, logical sense was enough of a motive for now.

He glanced away from Mick and over to the small dusty lot holding the six horses Dallas had chosen to take back to New Mexico with her. He was going to miss the four-legged critters. And he was going to miss her. That much he already knew. Damn it.

He turned his gaze back on his friend. “Mick, the woman drove nearly a thousand miles to buy horses from me, the least I can do is offer her a bit of hospitality. Especially when she's virtually stranded.”

“You like her, don't you?”

The two men rarely discussed women. What was the point? Mick had as many as he wanted and Boone wanted none. There was nothing for them to talk about.

“You're being ridiculous, Mick.”

“Am I?”

Boone mouthed a curse word under his breath. “What if I said I did like the woman? What if I said I was happy about her hanging around for a few days? So what? It's my business.”

The other man's face paled just a fraction and Boone realized he'd not only shocked him, but he'd also angered him.

“Yeah, it's your business. What the hell am I worried about it for anyway?” Mick growled back at him.

“That's right! Why are you worried? Afraid this is one you won't get?”

His jaw rock-hard, Mick glared at him. “That was uncalled for.”

“This whole conversation is uncalled for,” Boone snarled back at him, then turned in the direction of the house. “I'm going in for lunch. You do what you want to do.”

As Boone started striding away, Mick called out, “I will.”

“Fine,” Boone grumbled and continued walking.

 

Later that evening, after Dallas had spent most of the afternoon watching Boone work with the mustangs he was currently training, they returned to the house to find
that Marti had left a message for Dallas on the answering machine. Her truck needed a new injector pump and the part would have to be ordered, he'd said. And barring no major problems, the truck would probably be ready to drive in three days.