Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“She isn’t as generous in her comments about you,” he said.

“She’s in a different position, and she doesn’t know me,” Lori said, then laughed. “Not like those who love me know me.”

“So, if I grabbed a bridle and invited you to go for a ride tonight, how would you respond?” he asked on a very rare impulse.

She shrugged. “I’m safe because it’s all supposition.”

He nodded and rubbed his chin. “Okay. Hold that thought.” He walked to the tack room, grabbed a bridle, and returned. “Hey, Rowdy,” he said in a low voice to the gelding. “Wanna go for a little ride?”

Rowdy immediately moved to his stall door and pricked up his ears. Jackson chuckled. He put the bridle on the horse, led him outside the stall, and mounted him bareback. He looked at Lori. “We’re past supposition now. What are you going to do?”

Backing away, Lori inhaled and glanced at the horse. Nerves danced in her stomach.

Then she looked at Jackson. Strong and in control, he hugged Rowdy with his thighs and held the reins not too tight and not too slack. He could take care of her, she thought. In the next moment, with sickening clarity, she remembered that accidents could happen.

Her palms clammy with fear, and her throat tight with apprehension, she stood there frozen. She felt him study her and hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.

“Hey, if you’re not ready,” he began.

Despite her crippling fear, or perhaps because of it, Lori felt something inside her rip. She was tired of being afraid. Sick of it. She lifted her head. “I’m not, but it’s time,” she said and forced her feet to move toward him and Rowdy.

“You sure?”

“Not at all,” she said, lifting her hands for him to help her. “But I don’t want to overthink this. I just want to do it.”

He bent over and wrapped his hand around hers. “Give me your best jump,” he said.

She leapt, and a second later she sprawled onto Rowdy’s back. She clung to Jackson, wrapping her hands around his taut torso. As if Rowdy sensed this was a momentous occasion, the horse danced and snorted.

“Hold tight,” Jackson said and brushed one of his hands over hers. He swore under his breath. “Your hands are like ice. Are you sure-”

“Don’t ask, just ride,” she interrupted him.

“Okay,” he said and nudged Rowdy slowly forward. They took a couple slow walks around the barn. Lori figured he wanted her to get used to being on a horse again. The rocking motion felt alternately foreign and familiar. By the fourth time around, Lori was ready for more.

“Step it up,” she said.

“No need to rush.”

“I’m already here,” she said. “You may as well give me a real ride, Jackson.”

The urgency in her words made every muscle in Jackson ’s body tighten in attention. He felt a surge of pride that he’d been the one to get her to ride again, that he’d tapped a little of the passion she’d shut down for years. He couldn’t help being curious about all that banked passion and how many different ways she would release it. The strange intimacy between them wrapped around him like a spell of the night, making him aware of every breath she took, every exhale against the back of his neck, the sensation of her breasts crushed against his back, her thighs open and hugging him.

“Okay,” he muttered and nudged Rowdy into a slow trot and away from the safe circle of the corral.

Lori’s heart beat in her throat, making it difficult to breathe, and when she did, she caught a draft of Jackson ’s clean male scent. She felt the remnants of terror, but exhilaration was taking over. Holding tightly to Jackson, she relished the wind in her hair and even the bumpiness of Rowdy’s trot. Her bottom might be a little sore tomorrow, but she didn’t care. The night was clear, and the stars sparkled brightly against the black sky.

She sensed the horse’s desire to go faster, to break free of his in-between pace. She felt the same itch. “Let him run,” she said.

“Hold on,” Jackson said, and seconds later, Rowdy began to run.

The speed gave her a thrill she hadn’t experienced since the last time she’d ridden a horse. Another shot of exhilaration bolted through, and she laughed.

“You okay?” Jackson asked.

“No,” she said, clinging to him. “I’m wonderful.”

She didn’t know how long the ride lasted, but she felt as excited as a kid when the barn came in sight and he slowed to a walk. Lori inhaled and blew out a long breath, dipping her head against Jackson ’s broad, strong back. “Oh, that was great.”

A half beat of silence followed, and then he gave a low chuckle. “I’m glad it was good for you.”

Giddy, she laughed with him. He led Rowdy on a cooldown walk and stopped just outside the barn. “Scoot back a little,” he told her and swung his leg over to get off the horse. He lifted his hands to her. “Your turn.”

She looked into his eyes for a moment, feeling something monumental shift inside her. He had taken care of her. She could trust him. She couldn’t remember feeling that way about another man. Jackson wiggled his hands, prompting her to move. Stretching out her arms, she slid downward. Jackson caught her against him, her head above his.

Lori saw a flicker of powerful emotions shoot across his gaze - awareness, passion, and something else she couldn’t name. He paused and allowed her to slide down his body, making her intimately aware of his strength and her own desire. It was all she could do not to kiss him. Blindsided by a blast of need, she could barely breathe. She felt a sudden snap of clarity.

“Let’s get married,” she said breathlessly.

He stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

She took another quick breath. “Let’s get married.”

Jackson blinked, then swore under his breath. “Have you lost all your marbles?”

“No,” she said, trying not to feel disappointed by his response.

Staring at her as if she’d sprouted a third eye, he released her and backed away. He shook his head and opened his mouth.

“Hear me out,” she interjected, talking before he could turn her down flat. “It actually makes a lot of sense. You’re a very practical man. You know why I want to get married. I trust you. And you would get a very nice salary to put up with me. You’re ambitious, and you like to be in control. The money you make from marrying me could give you the ability to do a lot of things on your own. You wouldn’t be held back by the limitations at the accounting firm. In a way,” she added, “it would provide you with more freedom than you’ve ever had.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then scrubbed his face with his hand. “By tying myself to you,” he added.

“For six years,” she said. “And I haven’t gotten the impression you’ve been spending your spare time looking for love or romance.” Maybe sex, she thought, but not the former two she’d mentioned.

“I’m not like your British duke,” he said. “I know too much about you.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, offended.

“I know that when you walk through the door, trouble’s coming right with you.”

Emotionally smashed, she bit her lip. “I assume that means your answer is no. You have no interest in taking on the horrendous job of being my husband for a limited time even though you would earn a nice check from it. Because I’m obviously more frightening and dangerous than dancing in a rodeo clown suit in front of an angry bull. Heaven knows, I never dreamed I could scare the mighty Jackson -”

“Okay, okay,” he interjected. “You’ve made your point.” He rested one hand on his hip and studied her with a level gaze. “You took me by surprise,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll think about it.”