this okay?”
“It’s wonderful.”
He fondled over and under before gently pinching a nipple.
She groaned.
“You’re so beautiful. I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
Jolie’s eyes popped open.
I wanted you from the moment I saw you?
Seriously?
Creating sexual fantasies featuring a virtual stranger as a sort of ranch gigolo? Ridiculous. How did she ever expect to make it as a serious journalist when she wiled away her spare time coming up with this sort of nonsense?
Jo sat up, threw off the quilts and swung her legs out of bed. She went to the French doors and drew back the blinds.
“Beautiful,” she said matter-of-factly. The view was exactly like the panoramic shot on the webpage.
While she might not be an acclaimed journalist yet, she was still here to do a job, so she sat down, opened her laptop and called up her travel article. After tapping out a few awkward sentences and random ideas, she stared at the screen.
Screw it.
Going over to her bag, Jo took out her leather-bound journal, a gift from her father last year.
I know writers do everything on computer, but I thought you might like this. Or not. Here’s the gift receipt if you decide to return it.
She hadn’t returned it. It was the best gift her father had ever given her. Opening the journal up to her last entry, she reread what she’d written a couple of days ago and then began writing—longhand. She didn’t even have to think; the words just poured out of her as she filled page after page, like she was merely the conduit for ideas coming from another realm.
The aroma of fresh coffee and bacon drew her out of the story and back to reality, her stomach growling.
After dressing, she joined her host in the dining room, where breakfast was already laid out.
“I hope you slept okay,” Gloria said while she poured the coffee.
“Amazing.”
“The rest of the guests arrive today. Festivities begin once everyone’s here. We’ll go out and cut a tree and then decorate it tonight while we celebrate Tip’s Eve.”
“Tip’s Eve?” Jo was thankful to have something else to discuss.
“It’s a tradition of Thad’s, from his Catholic roots, I think. Anyway, it’s a pre-Christmas party, always on the twenty-third. We thought it would be fun for the guests.”
“Sounds like it.” Jolie smiled as warmth infused her, starting at her core and radiating out to her extremities. The sensation had to do with the thought of celebrating any kind of Christmas tradition and had nothing to do with the mention of Thad’s name.
Nothing whatsoever.
“How many guests do you expect?”
“Only five, including you. It’s our first time opening up the ranch to guests over the holidays.”
Jolie nodded and took a bite of omelet, which she’d drowned in ketchup.
“So,” Gloria said, drawing out the one-syllable word as she sat opposite her. “You’re a writer?”
“Journalist.” Why did she correct her? She liked the title of writer.
“And you’re doing an article about the ranch for Travel America?”
Jo looked up, nodding as she chewed.
“I hope you’ll take into consideration the fact that we’re still in the development stage...”
“Oh.” Jo wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. “This isn’t a travel critique of the place or anything. I’m here to enjoy myself and then write about it. That’s all.”
“Okay.” A blush crept up Gloria’s neck and into her cheeks. “I’ll be honest—I’ve been feeling a bit of pressure knowing you were coming. I just really want this ranch to take off, you know?”
“Please think of me as just another guest.”
Gloria released a big sigh. “Right. Well, you let me know if there’s anything you need. Anything at all. And if I can’t help, then I’m sure Dillon would be happy to. Or Thad.”
Jolie’s throat felt funny.
“Well, speak of the devil.”
The omelet in her stomach flipped over at the sound of boots approaching on the wooden floor. Head bowed toward her plate, she looked up through her lashes to see Dillon enter the room, still wearing a winter parka, his cheeks rosy from cold. Following close on his heels was Thad and another man Jo hadn’t met yet.
“Morning, boys. How are things?”
“Good.” Dillon kissed his wife, and Jo couldn’t help watching as Gloria gently rested a hand on her husband’s chest. Jo quickly averted her eyes. Unfortunately, they ended up landing to the right...which was where Mr. Thaddeus Knight was standing.
He winked.
“Thad tells me you tried out the hot tub last night,” Dillon said.
Oh, good God.
“Mmm-hmm,” Jolie intoned. What else had Thad said?
“It’s good for a body. Helps you sleep.”
“Sure does.” Jo could not meet Dillon’s gaze. Or anyone’s, for that matter.
“Have you met Curtis?”
Thankful for the change of subject, Jo looked up and greeted the third man with a smile. Then the discussion turned to the estimated arrival times of the rest of the guests and all mention of the hot tub ceased as the men sat down to eat, Thad taking the seat right beside her.
“Morning, Ms. Jolie. You’re looking well.”
His words were drawn out, one syllable running into the next with weird inflections that seemed to mock, or could be suggestive. It was hard to tell with that Southern accent, which only served to remind Jolie of her early-morning fantasy session.
Could he tell what she was thinking?
“Thank you,” she mumbled before stuffing a forkful of egg into her mouth.
Thad’s right hand was within her line of sight, because it rested right beside her plate. She stared. His hand was exactly as she’d imagined it. Large and well formed, tanned—or maybe that was just his olive skin tone. His fingers were long and veins stood out on the back, like he actually had muscles in there.
Vivid images from her early-morning musings filtered through her mind. She glanced up. “You said
