Page 47 of Richard

“Loosen your grip. You are about to give the poor horse a broken neck,” he teased her.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” she protested, doing as he instructed.

“I would never have believed it.”

She poked her tongue at him, and he was seized with such passion that he had to haul her up by the neck of her sweater and bury his mouth on hers.

“Don’t do that, unless you are prepared to take the consequences," he said hoarsely, ignoring the skittish movements of his horse.

She clung to him, breathless and giddy. She was forty-two and she felt like a girl on the throes of her first epic love affair and it frightened her.

“Richard–”

“Yes, baby?” He was still holding her close.

“We– the horses.” She was gazing at his mouth, wanting the feel of it against hers again.

“Hmm.” He rubbed his lips against hers before releasing her with obvious reluctance.

“What you do to me...” Shaking his head, he gathered his reins.“Let her canter for a minute before guiding her into a steady trot. She responds well to urging.”

Her fear disappeared after a few minutes, and she relished the feel of the cold wind on her face and tearing through her hair. And the view was magnificent. In the bright light of day, the sun highlighted the changing colors of fall. Rows upon rows of trees, with their leaves displaying myriads of colors made the journey an adventure.

There were several quaint cottages dotted the horizon, but otherwise, they were all alone. He led them back to the barn where he helped her to dismount before rubbing down the horses and sending them back into their respective stalls.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted with a breathless laugh.

“Let’s go get lunch.”

He held her hand as they made their way toward the vehicle, a very classic sports car that he said belonged to the friend.

“It’s just left here?” The top was down, and the breeze was wreaking havoc on her ponytail, but she didn’t mind in the least.

“Barry is on tour in Europe.” He flashed her a smile, admiring the way the sweater was molded against her bosom. He was going to hasten lunch along so they could come back and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.

He did not relish the fact that very soon, they were going to be leaving. It felt as if he was going back to the real world, and everything was going to get complicated.

Here, he had her all to himself, and he preferred it that way.

“Barry McClurkin?” she asked with a widening of her eyes. “The classic music legend?”

“Yes.” He slid her a glance as he made the turn into the parking place of a sturdy looking log building. “You are a fan.”

“Who isn’t?” She exclaimed dazedly. It reminded her of his power and the people he mixed with. “You produce his music.”

“I do. He is more of a friend. And a grouch. He is the epitome of a moody artist. But his bark is worse than his bite.” He opened her door and took her hand, pulling her up against him, his hands tight on the lapels on her jacket. “Your hair is a mess.” He chuckled, brushing back thick strands off her face.

“Whose fault is that?” she retorted. She had never been so uninhibited with anyone, certainly not a man, and it was exhilarating.

“Mine.” Cupping her cheek, he brushed his lips on hers. “We are going to shovel the food into our mouths and get the hell out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because–”Bending his head, he told her exactly what he was going to do to her.

Collette went still as she stared at him, her body trembling and not from the cold air that had sprung up. “Richard–”

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