sale of Clifton’s Pride.
Riley Douglas, who was technically comanager of the resort, but who had a lot of irons in the fire and pretty much left the job to Grant, came by at nine. Grant brought him up to speed on the progress with the golf course. Then they discussed the pros and cons of opening a third full-service restaurant at the main lodge. They already had the upscale Gallatin Room and the Grubstake, where you could get a great burger and all-day breakfast. Grant thought they needed something in the middle range.
Riley agreed. “Come up with a few specifics—like who, what, how and how much. Then we’ll bring it before the board.”
Grant asked after Caleb, Riley’s dad. The resort had been Caleb’s brainchild. The wealthy rancher had provided the land, put together the investor group and overseen the original project’s development. Without the drive and influence of Caleb Douglas, the resort wouldn’t exist—let alone been a raging success from the day it opened for business last November.
Riley shook his head. “Sad to say my dad is gettin’ old, slowing down a little…”
“Give him my best, will you—and your mom, too?”
Riley promised that he would.
After Riley took off, there were a couple of food service issues to settle and some calls to return. Grant had the decks more or less cleared by eleven and at eleven-twenty he was mounted on Titan and headed for the Danvers pasture.
Once he left the stable yard behind, he urged the horse to a gallop, all too aware of a certain rising feeling in his chest, an eagerness in his blood.
Steph was there, waiting on Trixiebelle, beside the twisted old cottonwood in the pasture that had once been part of her father’s land. He saw her and his heart started pounding hard and deep and needful. Heat streaked through him, searing as it went.
Trixiebelle danced to the side as he rode up. With a horsewoman’s sure skill, Steph calmed the mare. Her strong, capable hand on the horse’s neck, she beamed him a wide, happy smile—a smile that made his head spin and his blood race even faster through his veins.
Damn. She was beautiful. So beautiful, it hurt. Her hat hung down her back and her hair, pulled loosely into a single braid, caught the sun in golden gleams. And those eyes…
Green as spring grass.
“Come on,” she said, and pointed to a stand of birch trees maybe a quarter of a mile away. “Over there.” She turned the horse and took off.
Hopelessly ensnared, forgetting everything but the color of her eyes and the way her hair shone like a handful of nuggets in the sunlight, he followed.
Chapter Four
Steph spread the blanket in the dappled shade of the trees.
She had plans for today. Big ones. Romantic ones. Plans that involved slow, lazy kisses and tender, arousing caresses.
And, just maybe, even more.
Funny, but she wasn’t the least bit nervous. She was excited. Kind of tingly all over. Her heart felt full to bursting.
At last. After all these years of loving Grant Clifton and knowing his feelings for her were strictly the brotherly kind, she saw her chance with him.
And she was taking that chance, going all the way with it. No matter what anyone thought. No matter what her mother said.
“Here we go.” He was back with the rocks she’d sent him to find. He knelt and placed four nice, big flat ones, each on a corner of the blanket to hold it in place against the ever-present wind.
“Great.” She sent him a glance that lingered a little too long. Heat arced between them. He was the one who looked away, rising again and stepping back.
Oh, yes. She was certain. He wanted her and she did have a chance with him.
No, she wasn’t quite so naive as her mom seemed to think. She didn’t imagine that Grant loved her. Uh-uh. He did not. And as dewy-eyed as she was feeling, she intended to remember that. He thought she was innocent. But she wasn’t—not in her heart. Not in her tough and pragmatic rancher’s mind.
Stephanie Julen was a realist and she knew what Grant felt for her: He wanted her. A lot. He wanted her—and he didn’t want to want her. He’d always considered it his job to protect her.
And now he intended to protect her from himself.
She was a whole lot more woman than he realized, however. And as a woman, she would do all in her power to see that he put those noble intentions aside and got what he wanted. After all, it was only what she wanted, too.
It had taken her a while to catch on, painful hours on Sunday—between the time he found her at the creek and the kiss they shared in the office. She’d been so sure he was mad at her or shocked or disgusted or something else equally upsetting.
But eventually, she’d figured it out. That strange look in his eyes every time he glanced her way…why, it was a hungry look.
And if she’d had a single doubt that he desired her, the kiss had burned all uncertainty clean away.
Oh, that kiss. He’d kissed her as if he wanted to gobble her right up.
And, well, Steph wouldn’t mind at all being gobbled. Not as long as it was Grant doing the gobbling. Oh, my, yes. She got chills all through her every time she thought about that kiss, about the hard, strong feel of his body pressed close to hers, about the way he’d swept his big hand down and cupped her bottom and pressed her closer still.
She’d felt what she did to him then, oh, yes, she had. She’d felt what he wanted to do to her. She’d felt it and known that she was getting her chance with him. At last.
No regrets, she promised herself. She would take things with Grant as they came. Ride this wild horse and just hope against hope that maybe she’d manage to stay on.
He was a good man. And a generous one. A protector of the weak and the needy. A man you could count on when you were down.
But he was not looking for a wife. What did he need with a lifetime commitment, or even a steady girl? The women flocked to him and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy his bachelor lifestyle.
Stephanie really hoped she could make him see that even a man who had everything needed the right woman to stand by his side. But she wasn’t counting on anything. She had no expectations of how it would all work out.
He stood back, watching from under the brim of his hat, as she went to where they’d hobbled the horses and began taking their lunch from the insulated saddlebags. She glanced over her shoulder, sent him another smile and thrilled to the lovely flare of heat that sparked in his eyes.
“I couldn’t resist the urge to race you over here,” she said. “And that means the beer is nothing but foam about now. You’ll have to wait for it.”
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice low and a little bit ragged.
“I’ve got lemonade, though.”
“I love lemonade.”
