Page 4 of The Cowboy's Temporary Solution

"Name's Ranger." He extends his right hand for a shake to go with his overdue introduction. "Ranger O'Leary. My dad was Kenny Daniel O'Leary. My grandfather was Michael Ryan O'Leary-- any of them names happen to be in your research notes, by chance?"

His hand holds mine firmly but gently in what surpasses an ordinary handshake, and I tell myself that the uptick in my heart rate has nothing to do with the leathery warmth of his calloused hand wrapped around mine.

Ranger O'Leary, eldest son of Kenneth Daniel O'Leary, and heir to the legendary Delta O ranch is watching recognition dawn across my face, holding my hand and asking me to-- what, exactly, I don't even know yet-- and it's just the prospect of scoring a personal interview with the biggest name on my research list that has me struggling to remember to breathe; and certainly not the way his throat works in a tight swallow or the way the pad of his thumb softly brushes over the pulse point in my wrist.

"Look, I haven't been back home in years," he seems reluctant to let go of my hand, but finally, Ranger releases meand sinks back against his seat. "My dad passed away a few months ago. He'd been battling cancer for the better part of a decade. We knew it was going to get him eventually; we just weren't ready for him to go down so quick once things turned.

"His funeral is tomorrow, and after that, I have to spend my time patching up some sore spots with my brothers and figuring out how we'll be handling running the ranch from here on out.

"It'd make my life a hell of a lot easier if I could show up with a pretty little thing like you on my arm to convince my mom that I'm off the market and don't need her help in findin' me a wife. Give me some time to get settled in without the extra drama."

My mouth literally drops open. I can't believe he's really suggesting this. It's crazy; but then he makes me an offer that's hard to say no to.

"Be my girl for the week. I'll introduce you around, make sure you get to talk to the people you need to talk to and get your first-hand accounts of the family histories that you won't be finding in the library basement."

Ranger

Pretty eyesopen round as saucers as those plump lips open in a perfect little "O" that has me wanting to slide my thumb between them. Then the tip of her tongue pokes out and sweeps over that lower lip and God help me-- because I know she's only looking at me like that because she's thinking about what I'm offering her, but I'm lost.

I'm as good as gone and I know I'll be offering her a helluva lot more than just a few introductions around town if she'll allow me.

Our little conversation has taken up most of the short flight time and the captain's voice is telling us we're already beginning our descent while I wait for the angel beside me to deliver my salvation.

The lights go on to buckle seat-belts and the attendants make their way up the aisle, checking on seat-belts and tray tables.

The mountain ranges drop away under us, and the long valley comes into view with the wide, lazy river it's named for running through it.

But it's not until the U&U's range comes into view outside her window, peppering the grasslands along the upper river with the black hides of their Angus cattle, that I get a response.

"What, exactly, does your plan involve?"

Turning away from the view out her window, she licks her lips again and fixes those jewel-toned eyes on me as the plane descends toward the single runway of the valley's rural airstrip.

"I say we start with you tellin' me your name, sweetheart."

"Seri."

This time, when she licks her lips, her eyes have dropped a few inches. I swear they're focused on my own lips as I smile back at her.

"Like the voice on the phone?"

The slightest shake of her head is too much for that hair pin and it finally loses the fight it looks to have been putting up most of the day. Rich, chocolate locks fall around her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face in soft curls.

"Short for Serenity," she explains, as she pulls a little clip out of her hair and combs through it with her fingers.

I want to do that for her. Only, I don't want to arrange it into the sleek curtain that she's making of it. I want to crush it under my palm while I hold the back of her head with my lips pressed to hers, I want to twist my fingers in it and get it all tangled up against my bed sheets.

"Beautiful." Of course, I mean her. Every damn inch of her from the fly-away strands of hair that refuse to cooperate with her fussing, to the pointed toes of her shiny, black shoes; Seri's a vision. But she takes it as a compliment to her name and I supposed that's for the best, really.

"Thanks. it took me a long time to love it. I always wanted a normal name like Michelle or Brittany."

"I like Serenity," I assure her as we sit back and prepare for the plane to touch down as the runway's blacktop surface rushes up beneath us.

As the plane brings us up to the gate and comes to stop, I fill Seri in on the details she's most likely to need to know and then listen intently to her answers to my own questions.

"This is ridiculous." I hear her mutter under her breath as we wait for our fellow passengers to clear the aisle.

I cover her hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze.

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