least a dozen men volunteered to retrieve my luggage out of courtesy is a phenomenon I can’t even begin to make sense of. I suppose I sound jaded.” She laughed softly. In the background, he heard the sound of the doors whooshing open and then the mix of traffic and wind sweeping across her phone’s mic. “I’m at the curb. What are you driving?”
He pulled into the passenger drop-off/pickup lane and opened his mouth to answer, but that was as far as his side of the conversation got. He dropped his phone and it bounced off the rubber floor mat, but he made zero effort to retrieve it.
The woman who’d snared his attention pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it in confusion. She had to be Emmaline Graystone. She’d described herself as “drab” only moments before. She’d flat-assed lied.
The short, black dress she wore showcased toned arms, a trim waist and lean legs that, based on the gawking of other drivers, were long enough they should’ve come with a hazard warning. He’d never been a fan of short hair on a woman, but the way the sun lit up her red hair, it appeared almost burnished. And she did, indeed, carry a red purse. All of that was delicious. What she’d neglected to mention were the red lips and siren-red stiletto heels that would be the showcase of his totally inappropriate dreams tonight.
She spoke into the phone, glancing around. Her gaze passed over him, and then snapped back, an eerie recognition on her face. Thumbing her phone off, she dropped it in her bag before reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses.
Cade had dealt with beautiful women before. Emmaline Graystone put every one of them to shame. Her beauty was a quiet demand that he stare whether he wanted to or not. No wonder so many men had offered to help her with her luggage.
The thought made him want to growl. And that shocked him into action. He had no business thinking of her that way. As both a contractor and a ranch guest, she wasn’t some random woman at a bar angling to gain his attention or take him home for the night. That fast, his mind ran off with ideas of all the ways he’d want her if she had come onto him under those circumstances. He’d figure out what made her tick, discover her every desire, particularly the kind that required no clothes and a lot of one-on-one instruction. In the dark. He fought the urge to punch himself in the temple. Instead, he swallowed his pride and retrieved his phone.
Emmaline had already started toward him, and he inched his truck close to the curb before slamming it in Park. He hopped out and jogged around the front to meet her and take her bags, hoisting them into the crew cab’s backseat. The large bags took up the whole bench. Then, steeling himself, he faced her.
In heels, she was only a couple inches shorter than him. Her eyes were the palest green with a dark ring around them. Her nose was short and straight. And her lips... Those lips had been created specifically to go with the rest of her sultry voice and body.
“Since you’ve taken my bags and put them in your truck, I’m going to assume you’re Cade Covington.” She arched a brow, considering him. “That or I’m being abducted in broad daylight and allowing it, which I can’t imagine I would.”
Cade proffered his hand. “Ms. Graystone.” His heart skipped a beat. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Call me Emma. Please.” She took his hand in a firm shake. “We’d have gotten off to a far better start if you’d laid on the cowboy drawl and charm when you answered the phone.”
He shook her hand in return, but when it would have been polite to release her, he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he stood there like an idiot, staring at her through dark shades, memorizing her face as if there would be a quiz later.
Her breath stuttered, her hand tightened and then she pulled.
There was no option but to yield to her unspoken demand that he let go. Man, he didn’t want to, though. In fact, he wanted to wrap her in his arms, pull her into the line of his body, to discover the type of perfume she wore—and the brand of lingerie.
It was ridiculous in the extreme. Never had a woman affected him this way, and it left his mind entirely scattered. Opening her door, he handed her into the cab without a word and pulled her seat belt forward, settling the clip in her palm.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she crossed tanned bare legs that ended in those siren’s heels, the dichotomy of elegance and sheer wickedness not lost on him.
No, sir.
This was going to be longest trip to the ranch he’d made from anywhere.
Ever.
* * *
EMMA WASN’T SURE what to make of the man in the driver’s seat. He’d introduced himself, the deep timbre of his voice stealing the common courtesy of her response before it was halfway out. She wanted to listen to him talk. Didn’t matter what he said so long as that voice continued to fill the air around her.
A fine shiver raced over her skin.
That led her straight down the road to considering the way his brief touch had been electrifying, sending little shocks of awareness along her skin. Sure, the contact had been innocent. Her physical response? Not so much. When he’d held on to her, something inexplicable and almost electric had coursed through her. Then she’d tugged, privately engaged in an internal struggle between want and need. She’d desperately wanted him to hold on, to maintain the connection between them; she’d needed him to let go so she could get her bearings.
But the small gesture had left her craving more skin-to-skin contact, and by “more,” her mind was clearly envisioning fewer clothes. Inappropriate images had filled her brain—and that’s when her sanity abandoned her, leaving sparse breadcrumbs should she attempt to find her way back to it. There weren’t enough to follow, though. Not really. Even if she’d wanted to try. For the record? She hadn’t.
In the strangest way, she’d found herself anticipating their road trip. The time in the truck would give her a chance to discover more about both the man and the dude ranch.
Instead of launching into conversation, though, he’d silently put the truck in Drive and pulled away from the curb. That hadn’t set well with her, not as her mind raced over all the things she wanted to figure out about him.
Michael’s point of contact had been Eli Covington, Cade’s brother. Michael had made copious notes about the family’s desires for their new business venture, as well as on Eli’s experience in corporate law and his wife’s role as the ranch’s vet. But he’d included very little information on the two other brothers, save that Cade was the middle brother and Tyson the youngest. It would be up to her to fill in the blanks, not only to satisfy her curiosity but to afford her every opportunity to ensure she delivered a service the Covingtons would be satisfied with and be willing to broadly recommend. This trip provided the perfect starting point.
They left the airport via a two-lane highway. A glance out the window showed flat expanses of desert with occasional arroyos and ever-present, never-ending barbed wire fences that ran parallel to the highway only to be swallowed by the distant horizon. Cows were scattered far and wide. Some fields appeared vacant save for the intermittent pump jacks that pulled oil from Texas’s subterranean depths and sent it on to refineries’ holding tanks. The wind blew hard enough to push the pickup around a bit, sand peppering the windows like invisible bullets. Cade never faltered, was never forced to steady the truck with a second hand. No, he just left his right wrist draped over the top of the wheel and hid behind those dark glasses.
