Jeanne Allan - A Groom For Gwen

“I don’t want you to kiss me.”

“No, Ma’am.” He smiled, barely showing white, even teeth.

“You’re my employee,” she said stiffly.

His smile widened. “If you mean your cowhand, yes I am, boss lady.”

“I don’t believe in mixing business and pleasure.”

He laughed, deep in the back of his throat. “You’re right about that, Ma’am. Kissing you will be pure pleasure.”

She’d never been kissed by an outlaw. She didn’t intend to let one kiss her now. “You’re not still planning to kiss me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She ought to fire him. Maybe she should kiss him first. Out of curiosity. Then she’d fire him. Except she needed him. Even with Tom, she couldn’t operate the ranch alone. So she couldn’t kiss him. Because she couldn’t fire him.

She’d deliberated too long. He lowered his head. She expected a hard, forceful kiss to demonstrate his masculine superiority. His mouth settled gently on hers, a whisper of a kiss. He nibbled on her lips, tiny bites as if tasting her. Tingling little bites he slowly bathed with his warm, moist tongue. Which did nothing to calm the tingling. Nearby a grasshopper whirred. Cows mooed in the distance. If he’d panted and grabbed at her clothes, Gwen would have fought him off. His steady breathing gave her the courage to indulge a certain intellectual curiosity. She’d stop in a minute.

The gentle persuasion of his lips told her he wanted her to open her mouth. No wonder all those prim schoolteachers used to run off with outlaws, she thought an instant later. Cowboys, outlaws, knew how to kiss.

Lightly she touched his cheek. He’d shaved his heavy growth of beard, but that had been hours ago and fresh stubble rasped against her fingertips. She slid her hands down his neck, across his shoulders. His strength seemed to flow through his soft, weathered cotton shirt into her fingers. She tightened her grip, enjoying the flexing of his hard muscles.

He took away his mouth and stepped back. Her eyes shot open in protest. He gave her a lazy smile as he lifted his hand, caught a gloved finger between his teeth and yanked off the glove. Dropping it, he ran his fingers over the side of her face and closed the distance between them. A light breeze danced by, carrying a hint of dust and the smell of sage. Gwen pushed off his hat and threaded her fingers through his thick shaggy hair. She’d stop kissing him in a minute.

Sandwiched between his large, hard body and the sun-warmed stone pillar, her body molded itself to his hard thighs, the large belt buckle at his waist, his broad shoulders. Work-roughened fingers ran lightly over her jawline, trailed down her neck, and traced the neckline of her shirt.

The feel of a button slipping free brought Gwen to her senses. She stiffened and drew back, fighting for composure. And the courage to look him in the eye. What could she possibly have been thinking of? The man worked for her. She didn’t want him kissing her. She didn’t want the heat from his body coiling around her. If he made one arrogant, gloating, what-a-big-boy-am-I remark, she’d smack him.

A tanned finger lightly skimmed the tip of a breast straining against the fabric of her shirt. “Maybe I should have expected that.”

Gwen’s head snapped up even as she slapped aside his hand. “Expected what?” she demanded fiercely. “That I’d be an easy touch?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that, but since you ask, Ma’am, you are definitely an easy touch. I knew that even without the old man.”

His slow smile warmed her all the way to her toes. Or would have. If she wasn’t already boiling mad. Jabbing her finger into Jake’s chest, she forced him to retreat, yelling, “I was not Bert’s mistress.” She curled her fingers into a fist and followed Jake down the porch steps, pounding him in time with her angry words. “I did not manipulate him with sex. I did not sleep with Bert and I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Jake abruptly halted, brushing her fist aside as one brushed off a fiy. “Who’s talking about Bert? I’m talking about Tom.”

“Tom!” Gwen screeched. “You think I’m sleeping with Tom?” She hauled back her right arm to slug him.

Effortlessly Jake captured her arm. “What’s wrong with you? I’m talking about you taking in Tom, like you took in Mack.”

Gwen froze, her left arm halted mid-swing. “You’re talking about me hiring Tom?”

“Sure. What the hell were you talking about?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Let go of me.” She concentrated on brushing off her sleeve where he’d gripped her arm. “I’m a little sensitive about inheriting Bert’s property. His nephew Gordon has made a number of unsavory accusations.”

“Tom says he’s a no-account. No one’s going to pay any attention to his sour grapes.”

“About Tom.” She concentrated on the tanned skin in the vee of Jake’s shirt. “I know he’s old, but—” A finger pressed against her mouth stopped her.

“Tom’s going to work out just fine.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

“Honey, I haven’t been sweet since my ma weaned me.”

She decided to overlook what he’d called her. His drawl hinted of the South. She had the impression down there everyone called everyone “honey.” The issue here was Tom. “I’m glad you have no objection to my hiring him. I’m confident you can find something for him to do that won’t be beyond his capabilities.”

“Tom knows more about cows and horses than I’ll ever know.”

“Tom?”

“He’s a horse doctor, a veterinarian. Took his son and then his grandson into his practice, and they nudged him out. Thinking they were doing him a favor. Didn’t want him dropping dead in the office.”

“How do you know that?”

“Tom’d thumbed a ride with somebody partway here. I picked him up and brought him the rest of the way. We got to talking and he told me all about it.”

“And you believed him? He doesn’t talk like any veterinarian I’ve ever met.”

Jake chuckled. “Tom thought a city lady would be more likely to hire him if she thought he’d add a little local color. I could have told him that wasn’t necessary.”

“You should have told me who he was.”

Jake shrugged. “What difference would it have made? You’d still have hired him.”

Unwilling to argue the point, she switched tactics. “I expect the people who work for me to keep me informed. Is that clear, Mr. Stoner?”

“Sure, boss,” he said easily. “Didn’t I just tell you about Tom? I know you hired him because you felt sorry for him, but forget that. If you’re serious about this ranching business—”

“I’m serious.”

“Tom can teach you about the livestock.”

“That’s what I’m paying you for.”

A grasshopper landed near Jake’s boot. “Knowing about cows and horses and caring for the land takes a heap of studying on. You’ll need Tom when I’m gone.” He ground the insect under his toe. “I’m just passing through.”

“Jake, it’s none of my business, but... A man like you could do anything he put his mind to. Why don’t you settle down?”

He picked his hat up from the ground and carefully brushed the dust from it. “No, Ma’am, it’s not your business,” he finally said. “Besides, there’s no way to explain it. Settling down’s something I can’t do. I have to move on when I’m not needed anymore.”

“Who decides when you’re not needed? You? Like you decided about kissing me?”

He gave her a long look. “You telling me you didn’t want me to kiss you?”

“The question was, are you the one who decides you’re not needed anymore?”

“No.”

“All right, then. As long as we both understand how it is.”