Page 27 of Snow Kisses

In the days that followed, Abby learned more about the logistics of roundup on Painted Ridge than she wanted to. The whole ranch suddenly revolved around preparations for it. There were supplies to get in, men to hire and add to the weekly payroll. And at the head of it all was Cade, mapping out strategy, tossing out orders as he organized everything from the butane for the torches they used to heat the branding irons to ear tags. At the same time, he was involved with roundup on the other two ranches he had interests in, and in between were cattle auctions, board meetings and a rushed trip to New York to discuss his corporation’s plans to buy a feedlot in Oklahoma.

Abby couldn’t help thinking how sexy Cade looked in his pale gray suit with matching boots and Stetson when he came downstairs with his suitcase in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’m ready,” he grumbled, heading toward the front door. Hank was waiting impatiently outside in the truck.

“You really need something snazzier than a pickup truck to ride to the airport in,” Abby remarked with a smile. “You look very sophisticated.”

He glanced at her, his eyes clearly approving her jeans and pale T-shirt. “I’d rather be wearing what you’ve got on.”

“You’d sure look funny in it,” she murmured wickedly.

He chuckled softly. “I guess I would. Oh, damn, I hate these dress-up things, and I hate to ride around the country on airplanes with other people at the controls.”

“If you fly like you drive—” she began.

“Cut that out,” he said darkly. He checked his watch. “Stay off the horses until I get back, too. I told Hank to make sure you do.”

Her eyes flashed, and she drew herself up to her full height, lifting her shoulders proudly. “I’m not a child.”

His gaze went pointedly to the high, firm thrust of her breasts and he smiled faintly. “No, ma’am, you sure aren’t.”

“Cade Alexander McLaren!” she gasped.

He chuckled at her red face. “Well, you can’t blame a man for noticing things, honey.”

“Hank’s leaning on the horn,” she murmured, glancing nervously toward the door.

“Let him lean on it. Or stand on it. Hank was born in a hurry.” He studied her for a long moment. “I’ll let you kiss me goodbye if you ask me nice.”

She colored even more. “Why do I always have to do all the kissing?” she asked.

“Because you might not like the way I do it,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Her heart pounded wildly and she felt her breath coming hard and fast when she saw the expression that washed over his dark face. He dropped the suitcase with a hard thud and strode right for her.

Before she even had time to decide whether to run or duck, he had her by the waist. He lifted her completely off the floor so that she was on a level with his glittering dark eyes, and she noticed that he was breathing as raggedly as she was.

“Let’s see, Abby,” he said quietly, and tilted his head.

His mouth bit softly at hers in brief, rough kisses that made her blood run hot. Her hands tangled in his dark hair as she tried to hold his mouth over hers, hungry to feel the full pressure of it. Her body felt taut as a cord and she opened her lips to the coaxing play of his. It seemed to be just what he was waiting for, because he took possession then, and she felt his tongue go into her mouth in an intimacy they’d shared only once before.

She caught a sharp breath, but she didn’t protest. Not even when he eased her sensuously down and held her close against his taut body. He forced her mouth open further, tasting it with growing hunger, increasing the pressure until she moaned with sudden pleasure.

One big hand released her and slid up her side to her breast. It hesitated for an instant, and then it engulfed her, his thumb coaxing a helpless response even through two layers of fabric. She moaned again.

He lifted his mouth, breathing roughly, and studied her rapt face. “Look, Abby,” he whispered, glancing down to the darkness of his hand where her body was frankly showing its response to his touch. “See how you react to me….”

“Don’t,” she whispered achingly, pushing his hand away even as she leaned her head against his vest while she caught her breath. Her heartbeat was still rapid, and she felt flushed with embarrassment.

His forehead nuzzled against her soft blond hair. “Don’t be shy with me,” he said quietly. “I know you wouldn’t let another man touch you like this. I don’t think less of you for it.”

Tears welled in her eyes. He was the most tender man she’d ever known; he had a way of making the most traumatic things seem easy, uncomplicated.

“It shocked me a little,” she whispered unsteadily.

“I like the way you kiss me when you’re shocked,” he mused with a faint smile when he lifted his head.

Her eyes darkened as she looked up at him, unafraid. “I tasted you,” she whispered shakily.

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