way, you make a good-looking bridesmaid, Carly.”
Before she could change the subject to one that was much safer than brides or commitments of any kind, she noticed a bush at the side of the cabin shake and tremble.
Had that pesky raccoon come back again? If so, it was certainly getting brave. But instead of Rocky, the nickname she and Ian had for the little rascal that knocked over the trash cans, a darling little black-and-white puppy trotted out from the bush.
“Oh my gosh,” Carly said. “How cute is he?”
“It’s a she. And her name is Cheyenne.”
As Carly bent to pick up the pup, she must have moved too quickly, because a wave of dizziness struck. For a moment, everything around her seemed to spin. She wasn’t going to faint, was she?
She paused a moment and blinked. Her head cleared, thank goodness. Then she pulled the hem of her dress out of the way, slowly got on her knees and reached out her hands. The pup came right over to her, but she held still for a while longer, making sure the world wouldn’t start spinning again.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” she said to the puppy. Then she glanced at Ian, who had a boyish grin splashed across his face. “Where’d you get her?”
“Paco, the owner of the feed store, had a litter of Australian shepherds for sale, so I bought her. It’s something I’ve been planning to do for a while. A spread like this needs a good cattle dog.”
Carly pulled the pup into her arms and stood. “But what if the new owners don’t want you to stay on?”
He shrugged. “I’m not worried.”
Ian didn’t get too concerned about much. In fact, he always seemed to go with the flow, which was a plus in the casual relationship department, but another reason they’d never make a good match in the long run. He didn’t have the same ambition she did.
For as long as Carly could remember, all she’d wanted was to stand out on her own and be recognized as more than a pretty little girl whose divorced parents, a wealthy businessman and a glamorous country-western singer, were both too busy to spend quality time with her. And she’d found the best place to do that was on the stage.
“That puppy is going to get your pretty dress all dirty,” Ian said.
“I don’t mind.” She tossed him a smile as Cheyenne licked her nose. “I’ve always wanted a dog, but I never stay in one place long enough to have one.”
“I’ll share Cheyenne with you when you come home.”
As nice as the offer was, it wouldn’t work. “Jason plans to sell the ranch, remember?”
“Yep. I sure do.”
“So I won’t have a place to run home to anymore. At least, it won’t be here. And like I said, you don’t know for sure that the new owner will want you to stay on. I mean, I hope they do.”
“Like I said...” His eyes sparkled, and a grin tickled his lips. “I’m not worried.”
“Yes, but you have to be responsible for a puppy now.”
“Having something to look after will do me good.”
She thought about some of the homeless people she’d seen on the city streets, pushing a grocery cart laden with their belongings, a tethered dog trotting along beside them. Not that she had any reason to think Ian would ever find himself homeless. He’d built a good reputation with the other ranchers in town. He was also a hard worker and would undoubtedly find a job somewhere. But he seemed to be as carefree as a tumbleweed, especially when it came to making plans, which was yet another reason they’d never make a go of it. Their basic personalities were just too different.
“You’re going to find that the ranch house is nearly all packed,” Ian said. “Juliana had most everything boxed up by the time she left. So it might not be too comfortable sleeping in there. But you’re welcome to stay with me, if you want.”
Memories of the nights she’d spent in his bed swept over her, warming her blood and setting a flutter in her tummy. But that wouldn’t do either of them any good. Well, maybe it would for as long as it lasted, but she couldn’t afford to get too invested in him—or anyone—at this stage in her career.
“As tempting as that might be,” she said, “I’d better pass. Besides, Juliana told me the kitchen is still in order. And the guest bed has fresh sheets. So I’ll be okay.”
“Suit yourself.”
Their gazes locked for a moment, as a lover’s moon shone brightly overhead. And while Ian didn’t say another word, she felt compelled to continue arguing her case.
“We already discussed this,” she said.
His smile dimpled his cheeks in a way that could tempt a good girl to rebel. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with me, although I won’t turn you down if you insist.”
She clicked her tongue and returned his smile. “You’re incorrigible, Ian McAllister. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“No, I’m not. You said it yourself, a relationship between us would crash and burn. And I agreed.”
He had, and it was true. But that didn’t lessen her attraction to him, which seemed to be just as strong as it ever had been. She’d just have to ratchet up her willpower and avoid him whenever possible.
So she walked up to the porch and placed Cheyenne next to his chair. As she did so, she caught a whiff of soap and leather, musk and cowboy. Dang, downplaying their chemistry wasn’t going to be easy.
He reached for her hand, and as he did, his thumb grazed her wrist. Her heart quickened.
“It’s good to have you back, Carly. I missed your company.”
She’d missed him, too. The horseback rides, the sing-alongs on his porch, the lovemaking in his cabin, the mornings waking up in his arms... But she tugged her hand from his grip. She didn’t have to pull very hard. She was free from his touch before she knew it.
“Well, I’d better turn in,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Good night.”
No argument? Not that she wanted one. But she was used to men coming on to her.
So why wasn’t she relieved that he’d taken no for an answer so easily?
Because life got complicated when hormones got in the way of good judgment, that’s why.
“Sleep tight,” she said as she turned and started for the house.
The chords of his guitar rang out in the night as he played a lively melody with a two-step beat, a tune she didn’t recognize, a song she’d never heard. She turned, crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. When she did, he stopped playing.
“That’s nice,” she said. “Is it something you wrote?”
“Yep.
