a camera with a huge telephoto lens.
The driver remained behind the wheel, but a second man got out, as well. And they proceeded to walk down the drive toward Quinn’s house.
Nosy reporters.
Amber pulled up close to the barn and parked, but she left her purse in the truck. Then she marched up to the front door and knocked, prepared to tell Quinn or Amelia or whoever answered that there was possibly a cameraman and a reporter nearby.
Dang. Where was everyone? She knocked again.
Maybe they weren’t home. Something told her they wouldn’t like those reporters trespassing. Jensen had implied as much last Friday. But what should she do? Run the paparazzi off? Did she have a legal right to do that?
About the time she was going to walk away, the door swung open, and she looked up to see Jensen standing in the entryway.
“You came just in time for all the excitement,” he said. “Just before dawn, my sister went into lab—”
“Jensen!” Amber had to shut him up. And there was only one way she could think of that would do so quickly. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into a close embrace, whispering, “There are a couple of reporters skulking around right behind me. Play along.” Then she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him.
Play along?
The moment Amber wrapped her arms around Jensen’s neck and pressed her lips to his, it was easy to fall into the little scheme she’d concocted. His mouth was much too busy to speak, so he couldn’t possibly blurt out that his sister had gone into labor. Nor could he tip off the reporter that Quinn had taken her to the hospital just a couple of hours ago, leaving Jensen the only one home on the ranch.
In fact, as Amber’s peaches-and-cream scent enveloped him, as her lips parted and he tasted—brown sugar and...spice?—she leaned into him. He couldn’t help but draw her close and caress the curve of her waist, the slope of her hips.
Who would have guessed such a feminine creature hid beneath all that denim and flannel?
And who would have known that the pretty cowgirl could kiss like this?
When the camera flashed behind them—not once, but a second time—Jensen came to his senses, ending the little sideshow they’d put on for the paparazzi. Amber may have saved his sister from being headline news, but she’d inadvertently given the tabloids another gossip-worthy story to publish. But he’d have to deal with that fallout later.
In the meantime, he took her by the hand and pulled her into the house—and out of the camera’s view. Then he quickly shut the door behind them and turned to face her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I spotted a couple of men outside who had to be reporters. And I was afraid you were going to say something about Amelia being in labor, and I figured you wouldn’t want them to hear that. So I did the only thing I could think of to shut you up.”
She was quite flushed—not just her cheeks, which would explain a bit of embarrassment, but her throat and neck, too.
Had that kiss aroused more than gallantry on her part? It would seem so, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “You were saying that Amelia was in something or other. And I jumped to the conclusion that she might be in labor.”
“You’re right. That’s what I was going to say. And no, I didn’t want the reporters to hear.”
Amber brightened. “So Amelia really is in labor?”
“Yes, since early this morning. Quinn took her to the hospital in Lubbock right before dawn.”
“So what are you doing? Waiting for a phone call?”
“That’s exactly what I was doing. She wasn’t due until the first of next month, although her obstetrician didn’t seem overly concerned. Still, I can’t help worrying about it, though.”
“I can understand that.”
“She was under a great deal of stress early on, and those reporters made her life miserable. I can’t help thinking that might have brought on early labor.
“But now they’re outside again, ready to steal her joy and happiness again. They probably plan to camp out at the ranch until the baby’s birth. Fortunately, she and Quinn managed to slip away while it was still dark, but now I’m undoubtedly stuck. I’m not sure how I’ll go about leaving without them following me.”
“Do you have the keys to that ranch pickup that’s parked behind the barn?”
“Yes, the key should be hanging on the hook near the back door.”
“Then maybe I can help. The reason I came was to bring that filly Quinn asked me to deliver. Why don’t I go outside and make a big show of getting her out of the trailer? I can saddle her and do a little trick riding in the corral that’s on the other side of the house. If the reporters are watching me, maybe you can slip out the back without them noticing you.”
“How very Annie Oakley of you.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“On the contrary. I actually think it’s quite a clever plan that just might work. And I do hope it does. Otherwise, I’ll have to wait here and try to sneak out under the cloak of darkness.”
“How very Sherlock Holmes of you.”
He laughed. “What a team we make.”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “That’s true. But just wait and see. We’ll git ’er done, ol’ chap.”
“Apparently, we will. And those reporters won’t know we’ve been having a go at their expense. Thanks for being my partner in crime.”
“Anytime. That’s the cowboy way.” She glanced down at her scuffed boots, then back at him. “Hey. About that kiss...”
“Don’t give it another thought, Amber.”
She smiled, and the concern that had once troubled her brow eased. “Okay, then I won’t.”
He was glad that she seemed to shake it off as though it had never happened—the kiss and the reporters who’d recorded it all.
Unfortunately, he’d be thinking about it for the both of them—and not just the camera flash and the rippling effects of what that might mean. Because the memory of her taste, the feel of her in his arms, the flush on her cheeks and throat, would linger in his mind for a long, long time.
She’d jumped in to save the day, and it had worked in a surprising, blood-stirring way.
What an odd, mismatched team they made. The polo enthusiast and the cowgirl. The Brit and the Texan.
The tabloids were
