Have Honeymoon, Need Husband. Robin Wells

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request conjured up an image that made Luke break into a sweat. His eyes skimmed over her, overlooking the mud and noting instead how the wet silk clung to her curves, outlining her high, round breasts and narrow waist. Holy mackerel; how could he have missed all this before now? That veil had been hiding more than he’d realized.

      He couldn’t repress a wolfish grin. “Well, now…there’s a request I don’t hear every day.”

      He liked the way she blushed, and he loved the way her smile lit up her face like a switched-on lightbulb. It had the same effect on him, making him feel unaccountably turned on.

      “This thing must weigh a ton,” she explained, plucking at her sodden skirt. “And it’s wound so tightly around my feet I can’t bend down without falling over.”

      Reluctantly he relinquished his hold on her and untangled the dress. “It’s heavy, all right.” He draped the train over the arm she held out to him. “I’ve got full-grown heifers that weigh less.”

      Her laugh was soft and warm. A dimple flashed in her right cheek, and he found himself searching for another witty remark so he could see it again.

      He’d be better off searching for a way to get her off the ranch, he warned himself. The lodge manager had walked off the job last month, and he had his hands full trying to run both the ranch and the lodge at the same time. The last thing he needed right now was an added distraction.

      Especially a distraction exhibiting as many red flags as Josie. For starters, she was sure to be an emotional mess. He’d vowed he’d never get involved with another woman recovering from a recently broken romance, and it didn’t get any more recent than this. Tonight was supposed to be her wedding night, for Pete’s sake.

      Besides, he had no intention of falling for a city slicker again. Next time around he was determined to find a good, solid, practical woman who’d been born and bred in the country and knew exactly what ranch life was like.

      He was out of his mind to even be noticing things like the way her top lip had two luscious peaks that exactly mimicked the curves on her chest, and…

      He abruptly realized he was staring. With an effort he forced his eyes away. He needed to stop thinking about her. She was clearly off-limits.

      But the fact did nothing to stop another rush of electricity from charging through him when he took her arm. “I’ll help you to the truck, since you seem to have a hard time getting around in that thing.”

      Her heart-shaped face grew worried. “I’ll get mud all over your seat.”

      It was a practical consideration, and he was grateful she’d thought of it. He’d been too preoccupied gawking at her to think of it himself. “I have a tarp in the back. Wait here and I’ll throw it over the upholstery, then I’ll come back and get you.”

      “I’ll need my luggage. It’s in the back seat of my car.”

      He hadn’t thought of that, either. It was as if his mind had taken a vacation south. South of his belt buckle, that was. “I’ll get you settled in the truck, then I’ll go get it.”

      He rapidly ducked outdoors, grateful for the excuse to get some fresh air and clear his head.

      The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Too bad, he thought as he sloshed through the soggy leaves on the way to his pickup.

      Because he sure could have used a cold shower.

       Chapter Two

      “How did you hear about the Lazy O?” Luke asked as he steered the pickup along the narrow gravel road that led from the barn to the lodge.

      “My travel agent gave me a brochure,” Josie replied, gripping the seat as the truck bounced over the rough terrain. “Everything sounds wonderful!”

      That was the problem with that blasted brochure, Luke thought glumly; his father had gone overboard on the descriptions, painting everything in glowing terms and flowery, romantic language.

      Especially the honeymoon cabin, Luke thought as he braked the pickup to a jerky stop in front of it. He’d bet his best bull she’d be disappointed to discover it was nothing more than a ramshackle old log cabin fronted by a long, covered porch.

      “Here we are,” Luke said, glancing over at Josie and bracing himself for a string of complaints.

      She peered through the truck’s rain-streaked window. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” She looked up and flashed that dimple at him before turning back to the view. “So rustic and secluded. Just like the brochure describes.”

      Stifling his surprise, Luke followed her gaze. He’d always thought the cabin was great, too, but it wasn’t everyone’s reaction. Nestled amid a backdrop of oaks and pines and illuminated by a lantern-shaped light shining on the porch, it looked like it belonged in another century.

      “My father built it years ago as a guest house,” Luke explained. “He designed it after a cabin in the Rockies where he honeymooned with my mother. The main lodge is behind it, just past those trees.”

      “You wouldn’t know there was anything around for miles.”

      “In the good old days, there wasn’t.”

      Josie couldn’t miss the tension in his voice. “You sound like you don’t much like the lodge.”

      Luke’s shoulders tightened. How had they gotten off on this topic, anyway? He shrugged in a show of casualness. “I’m a rancher, not an innkeeper. Turning the Lazy O into a dude ranch was my father’s idea.”

      He switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, wanting to forestall any more questions. “Stay put. I’ll come around and help you down so you don’t get tangled up in that dress again.”

      She took his hands and stepped down, lurching against him as her feet hit the ground. He inhaled sharply at the contact of her soft breasts against his chest and caught a heady whiff of her scent—something soft and subtle, like baby powder and fresh flowers, mingled with a deep, earthy aroma that seemed somehow familiar.

      Mud—that was what smelled familiar. And she was probably smearing it all over him. Boy, was he ever a sorry sack of hormones, getting all muddle headed and romantic over the scent of mud!

      Scrunching his forehead into a frown, he pulled away.

      The sudden motion made her lurch again. “Sorry,” she murmured. “This darn gown…”

      Without thinking, he bent and swooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.

      Her arm involuntarily flew around his neck. Her face was inches from his, her eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing?”

      Good question. He was as shocked to find her in his arms as she was to be there.

      There was that scent again. Jiminy—he didn’t care if it was partly mud, it still smelled downright delicious. She felt that way, too. Even in her sodden gown she was no heavier than a newborn colt,

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