know how to get to my own bunkhouse,” he muttered as he disappeared out the door.
Bemused by the old man’s quick departure, Quint said, “What’s wrong with him? He always wants coffee after he eats.”
“From what he tells me, Jim always keeps a pot going on the stove,” Maura reasoned.
“Well, the way he scooted out of here, you’d think he wanted to leave us alone,” Quint said, then leveled a suggestive look at her. “What do you think?”
Heat swept through her body, making it feel like her cotton dress was actually a heavy woolen coat. Refraining from fanning herself, she rose to her feet and began to gather Abe’s dirty dishes.
“Clearly,” she said as she carried the things over to the sink.
Not bothering with his own dishes, Quint left the table and walked up behind her. As he slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to the back of her neck, he said in a voice muffled by her skin, “I think the old man needs psychotherapy. He says he loves you.”
She didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she asked, “Are you saying a man has to be mentally ill to love me?”
The coolness in her voice told him he’d gone at this all wrong. “No. But Gramps is eighty-four.”
“So. You don’t think you’ll be capable of loving at eighty-four?”
Hell, he wasn’t sure he was capable of loving a woman at twenty-nine, he thought. These past years since his break with Holly he’d tried to get close to other women, tried to recapture that blissful state of mind he’d had with his first sweetheart. But the most he’d experienced was a cold sweat, a sick repulsion at the idea of handing any woman the reins to his future.
Quint figured by the time he reached Abe’s age, his heart would more than likely be as hard as a piece of granite. Maybe it was now, he thought bitterly. Maybe Holly had turned him to stone and he’d never be able to love again.
Lifting his head, he answered, “Not a woman fifty years my junior!”
Twisting around, she slipped her arms around his midsection and linked her hands behind his back. “Oh, Quint,” she said with a soft laugh, “Abe loves me as a daughter.”
Her laughter was all he needed to lighten his thoughts and he smiled at her. “I suppose you’re right. I just don’t want his old heart broken.”
As for his own heart, Quint wasn’t worried about that. After all, a piece of rock wasn’t capable of getting all soft and soppy and vulnerable.
“I was surprised to see you here tonight,” she said huskily.
“Why? I told you on the phone that I’d see you soon.”
The husky note in his voice sent a shiver of anticipation down Maura’s spine. “That could mean anything. And you’ve been very busy.”
“Jake and I have finally started stocking the ranch and for the past week, we’ve been moving cattle and horses from dawn ‘til dusk. I’ve hardly taken time to eat.” His hands gently framed her face. “But—oh, honey, you ought to know I’ve been going crazy to be with you again.”
She sighed. “I’ve been wanting to see you again, too.”
He bent his head and his lips wrapped desperately over hers. The force of his kiss rocked her head backward and she moaned as her hands reached for the anchor of his shoulders.
In spite of the overhead lighting, his kiss was tugging her down into a swirling darkness where there was nothing but his hands sizzling over her skin, his mouth demanding, yet at the same time giving.
When their lips finally broke apart and his forehead was resting against hers, she sucked in ragged breaths and attempted to calm her racing heart.
“This is crazy, Quint!”
“Yeah. But a good kind of crazy.”
He pressed his lips across her forehead, then along one cheekbone, while goose bumps danced over Maura’s skin.
“The way I want you is indecent,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be making me feel like this.”
Her head tilted sideways as his lips began a downward trail on the side of her neck, then paused against the throbbing vein at the juncture of her shoulder.
“I’ve got to make love to you, Maura.”
“Yes.” The word floated out on a sigh.
His lips began working their way back up her throat and toward her lips. Aching with need, Maura’s hips shamelessly arched into his.
“Not here—not in your grandfather’s house,” she uttered with dismay.
Groaning with frustration, he dipped his hand beneath the hem of her skirt, then glided his hand up her thigh until his fingers reached the silky fabric of her panties. While he teased the flesh of one buttock, he whispered, “Gramps will be gone for hours.”
Knowing that she couldn’t succumb to his seductive persuasions on this matter, she purposely pushed at his shoulders to wedge a few cooling inches between them. “Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t feel right.”
Seeing she meant what she said, Quint grabbed her hand and began tugging her toward the door. “C’mon. I know somewhere we can go.”
“Go? Now?” she asked dazedly. “Where?”
“You’ll see. It’s not far.”
Unable to resist, Maura allowed him to lead her outside to the front of the house, where he quickly helped her into the cab of his truck. As he pulled away from the ranch house, a sense of reckless anticipation came over her and she looked at him as though they’d suddenly turned into sneaky partners in crime.
“What if Abe returns to the house and finds us gone? What are we going to tell him?”
Quint chuckled. “That I took you sightseeing.”
Maura groaned with misgiving. “In the dark? The man isn’t that ancient, Quint.”
“Does it matter what he thinks?”
He reached across the seat for her hand and as his fingers closed around hers, she could feel her heart throbbing with excitement. What normal woman wouldn’t thrill at the idea of her lover carrying her off in the dark to a secret hideaway?
“No,” she whispered truthfully. “It can’t matter.”
About two miles from the house, he turned onto a dim dirt road that led north toward the mountains. During her morning jogs, Maura had noticed the road, but never explored it.
“Are we still on Apache Wells?” she asked after he’d driven for another five minutes.
By now the road had grown bumpy and a dense pine forest had narrowed the road down to the width of a single vehicle. As the truck climbed the rough terrain, Maura gripped the seat
