never know when these skills might come in handy.”
Stephanie rinsed and dried, walking back into the bedroom, clad in her terry robe. “Where did you learn about makeup?”
“Girlfriends at school, cable TV, demos at the mall.” Melissa glanced around the room and realized the wide sill on the bay window was a good height.
“My friends were in the 4H club. And we didn’t get many channels out here while I was growing up.”
“Can you hop up there?” Melissa gestured. “That way I won’t have to bend over.”
“Sure.” Stephanie held her robe as she got settled, her bare feet dangling.
Melissa selected some lotion and a few cosmetics and piled them on a small table in the alcove. “It’s all about subtlety now,” she explained, tipping Stephanie’s chin toward the light. “Women want to look natural, just a little more beautiful than nature intended. Earth tones will bring out the subtle silver in your eyes, instead of clashing with it.”
“Can you cover up my freckles?”
Personally Melissa liked the freckles. “I’ll tone them down a bit. They’ll be less noticeable. You have amazing skin.”
“Fresh air and healthy living.”
“It works. I’m in an office all day, air-conditioning and recycled smog.”
Stephanie’s forehead wrinkled. “You have a job?”
“I used to have a job.” Melissa cursed inwardly at her stupidity, struggling to recover from the gaff. “I delivered office mail for a while. Very boring.”
“You seem so smart.”
“I’m not that smart.”
“Jared said you knew about Sierra Benito.”
“That was a stroke of luck.” Melissa found a thin brush and some powdered, charcoal eyeliner. “I happened to read an article in the newspaper.”
“But you remembered it.”
“I suppose. Close your eyes.”
“You must have a good memory.”
“Decent.” Memory was a critical attribute for a journalist—names, dates, faces, events. Melissa gently stroked on the liner, chose silver, blue and pale purple for shadow, added a subtle blush and finished off with a neutral lip gloss.
Then she found a comb and piled Stephanie’s thick, wavy hair in a loose twist at the top of her head, freeing a few locks to frame her face and trail at the back of her neck.
Melissa stood back. “Go take a look.”
Obviously self-conscious and nervous, Stephanie hopped down from the ledge. She gingerly crossed the floor to the mirror, squinted, opened her eyes, then stared in silence.
“Wow,” she finally breathed, turning her head from side to side. “I’m gorgeous.”
“You certainly are.”
Stephanie raised her brows to Melissa, mischief lurking in her silver-blue eyes. “Let’s do you.”
It wasn’t often Jared saw his little sister dressed to accentuate her femininity. Not that he ever forgot she was feminine, but she’d run around the ranch yard like a tomboy ever since he could remember. So tonight when she waltzed into the great room in an ultra-flirty dress, he was momentarily stunned. It was white on top, with bows at the shoulders and a full black skirt that billowed around her knees. She’d done something with her hair, too. And her face looked—
Melissa appeared from behind Stephanie, and the jolt took his breath away. Where Stephanie was feminine, Melissa was sultry. She wore a shimmering thin silk sheath of a dress that clung to her figure like a second skin. Spaghetti straps adorned her smooth shoulders, while the gold and peach shimmered under the warm light. Her hair was upswept, her face flawless, and her long, tanned legs and spiked heels were going to invade his dreams for at least the next year.
He swallowed.
“Is Royce here yet?” asked Stephanie.
When Jared finally dragged his gaze from Melissa, he saw the twinkle in Stephanie’s eyes. He had to hand it to his sister, she knew how to matchmake. Nothing would happen between him and Melissa, but it sure wouldn’t be from a lack of desire. Given his own way, he’d drag her off to his bed right now.
“Sunset Hill flooded out,” he answered. He’d talked to Royce a few minutes ago, and his brother had decided to wait the storm out at the main house with McQuestin.
Fine with Jared.
He didn’t particularly want Royce laying eyes on Melissa, anyway.
Stephanie’s lips pursed in a pout. “Why doesn’t he ride up?”
“Probably because he’d be soaked to the ass in the first half mile.” Jared gave a quick glance at Melissa to see if his coarse language had offended her.
Her little grin was the last thing he saw before the room went black.
Forks of lightning streaked through the thick sky, while thunder cracked and raindrops smashed against the roof and the wooden deck outside.
“Uh-oh,” came Stephanie’s disembodied voice.
“What happened?” asked Melissa.
“Could have been anything,” Jared answered as he made his way toward the mantelpiece. He found a box of matches by feel, struck one and lit a couple of candles. Power outages were common in ranch country, doubly so during storms.
Stephanie crossed to the front window. “I don’t see the cookhouse,” she said.
“Give it a minute,” Jared suggested, flipping open his cell phone. He punched in Royce’s number.
Melissa joined Stephanie at the window, and Jared let himself enjoy the view of her back.
“Why would you see the cookhouse?” asked Melissa.
“They have an emergency generator,” said Stephanie.
“Hey, bro,” came Royce’s voice on the phone.
“Lights out down there?” asked Jared.
“Just now.”
“Us, too. Any problems?”
“The boys aren’t back from the canyon yet,” said Royce.
“McQuestin worried?”
“Won’t be for a couple more hours.”
“Keep
