be trotting around here without shoes on. Regardless if you’re a hipster or not.”
“I’m not a hipster! All right...enough. My feet are crying.” The cowboy swung her into his arms. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“Taking you to fix your foot.”
Jimi halfheartedly struggled in his arms, but the way she fit against his wide chest was far too comfortable. And wasn’t it just where she wanted to be? Her foot was stinging, but the warmth of his body almost had her forgetting about it. “You know I’m quite capable of getting to my tent.”
“I’m sure you are. But I don’t need you leaving the scent of blood everywhere. Besides, the cuts will get full of dirt.”
He took a path behind the rows of tents. She was glad he kept out of sight of other guests, because she already felt stupid enough with her dumb comments earlier. Jimi decided to just enjoy being carried. It wasn’t every day a girl was in strong, muscular arms. She looped her hand behind his neck. His hair tickled her knuckles and she looked up, seeing under the wide brim of his cowboy hat for the first time. She swallowed when he looked down at her. All thought and words vanished under the heat of his gaze. And when he smiled—oh, God, when he smiled—she liquefied inside. What had she been thinking? No way would he ever be putty in her hands. Jimi feared it was she who would be putty in his hands.
He shouldered his way through a tent flap and Jimi glanced around. “This isn’t my tent.”
“I know.” He set her down on a cot that looked surprisingly cozy and was very comfortable.
“Why am I here? I wanted to go to my tent.” She was grappling with her rioting emotions, and being carried by him had thrown her totally off balance.
He pulled a chair in front of her, then turned around to a chest-high cabinet. “Does your tent have the first-aid kit?”
“Oh. I could have washed my foot off well enough,” she argued rather unconvincingly.
“I’m sure you could’ve. But somehow you leapt into my arms, so I figured you wanted me to take care of things.”
“I did not leap into your arms!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Why did she feel defensive? Right from the minute she’d laid eyes on him hours ago up until now he’d had her completely off-kilter.
“Lift your foot,” he instructed.
She did and watched in fascination as he cradled her heel in his big, tanned hands. He was so gentle as he tended her.
“Is it bad?” If it was, part of her hoped she might have to head back down for stitches. The other part wasn’t so sure. He took off his hat and set it beside her on the bed, so close to her fingers that she touched the brim. A thrill ran through her. It was almost like touching a part of him. Almost.
He raised her foot a little higher and peered underneath. His dark hair appeared longer without his hat, and when he tipped his head, a strand fell across his forehead.
“Nope. Just a little cut. Nothing a Band-Aid and antiseptic won’t take care of.” He looked up at her and she drew in a breath.
He had the most intriguing eyes. Neither was the same color, but a myriad of sea greens in one, and arctic blues in the other. Jimi leaned forward slightly, as if magnetized to him.
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?” He held her foot a little tighter.
“They’re beautiful.”
Jimi was surprised when he burst out laughing. The deep booming sound filled the tent and she blinked. What was so funny?
“They’re just eyes, hemahema.”
“But so unique.”
“I can thank my mother for them.” His smile was wide, and Jimi saw his Hawaiian ancestry in the bold and strong features, dark hair and deeply tanned skin.
“Was she Hawaiian?”
“My grandfather was. Now, let’s get this foot cleaned up.”
“What’s hemahema?” Jimi asked. “You said that a couple minutes ago.”
“Clumsy, awkward.”
“Humph. Nice.”
He chuckled and then spoke in a low voice she could barely hear. “Your clumsiness got you in my arms, though. Didn’t it?”
He glanced at her from under his dark eyebrows and her world tilted. The corner of his mouth lifted on one side and she was enchanted. That simple, seductive glance was full of so many promises. Promises she had every intention of making him keep.
“Yes, it did,” Jimi whispered. “And I don’t even know your name.”
“Shall we keep it a mystery?”
Jimi gave him a seductive smile. “That would make it very interesting.”
He looked back at her foot. Jimi drew in a soft breath as he carefully cleaned the cut, applied ointment and then a bandage before glancing at her. Jimi’s heart fluttered when he smiled, tightening his fingers a little more on her foot.
“All done. You’ll live.”
Sensing the impending end to their intimate moment, Jimi decided it was time to make her move. She slid forward and, not breaking eye contact with him, reached out and curled her fingers around his neck. His muscles under her fingers were hard and his skin warm. As if her fingers fused to him and captured his energy, their connection crackled with electricity. He seemed to resist against the pressure of her hand. Jimi was insistent. When she pulled him toward her, she saw a myriad of emotions race across his face, and for a moment she thought he would pull away. But he didn’t and gave her that crooked smile again. Her gaze dropped to his lips. His enticing and oh-so-kissable lips. Lips she wanted to taste, feel, explore.
When he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her, Jimi gasped. He curled his fingers around her ankles and pulled her closer, holding her ankles behind him before letting go. Jimi hooked them together around his hips and shivered as he ran his hands over her calves, along her thighs, and grabbed her waist. Jimi wiggled to reduce the distance between them. The urgency to feel him next to her had her strung tighter than a drum.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered, and lowered his head so his mouth brushed tantalizingly close to her earlobe.
“I—I know.” Jimi could barely form words, he had her so spun.
“I like that.” His lips pressed in the curve of her neck.
“Oh, you’re killing me.”
She moaned as his lips tickled along her neck, his breath warming her skin until she thought she might melt right into him. He was everything male. His essence enveloped her and she craved more of him. A totally random thought flitted through her brain. I’m made for him. Then it was gone when his hands roamed over her, stealing all coherent thought. One
