The rest of her verbal attack was lost as his lips swooped down on hers. Like a vulnerable little mouse clutched in a hawk’s talons, he ravaged her mouth while she stood in a shocked, rigid stance. The heat of his body flowed into her like a sudden arc of electricity and from her head to her toes she felt her skin flushing bright pink.
Just as abruptly as the kiss started it came to a shattering end as he ripped his lips away from hers and set her an arm’s length away.
Dazed and gasping for air, she stared at him.
He stared back as his eyes roamed over and over her face.
“Consider that a lesson,” he finally said.
His voice was low and husky and Juliet shivered inwardly. The man was more than sexy looking; he was Mr. Sensuality. Too bad he was bent on using his charms in the wrong way.
Quickly, before he could see how stunned she’d been by his kiss, she gathered as much of her senses together as possible and asked coolly, “What sort of lesson would that be?”
“To leave me and my family alone.”
His blunt reply was as sharp as a knife. Juliet told herself it didn’t really hurt. She’d been spurned before. Yet she felt as if he’d sliced open an old wound and all the times she’d been rejected in the past had come up to slap her in the face.
Drawing up her shoulders, she said, “If the rest of your family is anything like you, it will be a pleasure. Now if I’m excused, Mr. Sanchez, I’m going back inside. It’s cold out here and there’s no gentleman around to offer me his jacket.”
His blood simmering, Matt watched her turn on a tall, delicate high heel and walk back into the house.
Damn it all, he silently fumed. The newspaperwoman should have never been invited here and for two cents he’d question his Aunt Geraldine about her presence on Sandbur. But since a woman was something he never discussed with anyone, for any reason, he realized he wouldn’t take the issue that far. His aunt would think he’d cracked up. Besides, he wanted to push Juliet Madsen totally out of his thoughts. He wanted to forget he’d lost his head and kissed that Dallas woman.
Inside the house Juliet quickly made her way to the restroom and, after locking the door, leaned weakly across the lavatory. A gilded mirror hung over the shallow basin and Juliet was horrified at the image she saw staring back at her.
She looked ghostly pale, except for her lips—and they were almost cherry-red from the hard kiss Matt Sanchez had planted on them. Much of her naturally curly hair had come loose from its pins and several locks were now swinging in front of her eyes.
She’d left her tiny handbag back in the kitchen under the table where she’d been sitting with the old cook, so she was without a compact, lipstick or comb. Her hands shook as she tried her best to finger comb her tumbled hair back into place and she scolded herself for having such a violent response to the man. It shouldn’t matter that he’d taken her unaware with that kiss. She’d been kissed before, she told herself.
But not like that. For a few seconds you were swooning, dreaming of more.
Disgusted with herself, she straightened the straps on her dress, then bravely stepped out of the room and back into the party.
In the great room she was quickly swept onto the dance floor by one man and then another. The music was lively and normally Juliet loved to dance, but as each partner struck up a conversation, she found herself looking around the room, searching for him.
Eventually, Juliet decided she’d lost the partying mood and decided to retrieve her purse from the kitchen and head home. She’d already gotten what she’d come for anyway. And more, she thought dismally.
When Juliet entered the kitchen, she found Cook stirring up another bowl of punch. She told the older woman goodbye, then collected her wrap and left the house through the nearest exit. As for thanking Geraldine Saddler for the wedding invitation, she’d do that later through a card in the mail.
Outside the massive, hacienda-style house, the clouds had grown even heavier than when she and Matt were on the patio. The wind was chillier and she gathered the velvet stole higher on her arms as she hurried to her parked car.
Juliet was so intent on getting away from the ranch she almost missed the young girl sitting on one of the half-buried railroad ties that lined the edge of the driveway. She was wearing a long, pale pink dress and her light brown hair flowed in waves down her back. If it weren’t for the lost expression on her face, she would have looked totally adorable.
Curious as to why the girl was out here alone, Juliet walked over to her.
“Hello,” she said warmly.
The girl, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen, glumly glanced up at her.
“Hi,” she mumbled.
“Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”
Bending her head, the girl plucked absently at her skirt. “Why aren’t you?”
Carefully, Juliet sat down next to the girl, while telling herself it didn’t matter if creosote stained the seat of her dress. The child emanated sadness, an emotion that Juliet was well acquainted with, and she couldn’t leave until she’d found out what was upsetting her.
“Well, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m not all that good at talking to strangers.” Or kissing them, either, Juliet thought wryly. “So I decided to head home.”
Big brown eyes looked curiously up at Juliet. “I know everyone here today. Except for you. Are you a relative?”
Juliet shook her head. “No. My name is Juliet Madsen and I write stories for the newspaper. I’m going to do one about the wedding.”
“Oh.” The flicker of curiosity fell from her face and the corners of her lips turned downward. “Then I guess you know my daddy was a groomsman. You probably have all their names down and all that kind of stuff.”
“That’s right. What’s your father’s name?”
“Matt Sanchez. I’m Gracia Sanchez and my daddy’s the general manager of the Sandbur. Did you know that?”
Juliet didn’t know why she was so stunned to discover that Matt Sanchez had a daughter. The man was probably closer to forty than he was thirty. He’d had plenty of time to acquire a family. But when he’d kissed her—well, she’d never imagined that he had a wife somewhere in the wedding crowd. Dear God, what if the woman had walked in on them? The idea burned Juliet with anger and embarrassment.
“Uh—no. I didn’t know that. You must be very proud of him.”
The girl shrugged. “I guess so. He’s always busy.”
The simple statement said volumes and Juliet suddenly remembered her own childhood and a father who’d never been around. No matter if she’d needed him or not. Hugh Madsen’s indifference to his daughter’s life had left a deep wound inside Juliet, one that had never healed.
Juliet nodded with understanding. “Most men usually are,” she said more wistfully than she’d intended, then looked pointedly
