Texas Standoff. Ruth Smith Alana

his way. What was she waiting for? They’d obviously run the gambit of pleasant conversation. They hadn’t much in common; nothing left to say to each other. They barely knew each other. Would he-be shocked to know how much his earlier come-on had affected her? Maybe he was accustomed to having his way with the ladies. He certainly had the look of a man who could satisfy a woman. What was she thinking? Her mind was moving into dangerous territory, all right. Best to leave things well enough alone. Say good-night and forget about this handsome stranger sharing her house. Yet somehow the crazy setting seemed so natural-as if he belonged in her kitchen, as if he was meant to keep her company, as if he’d been destined to don her father’s favorite robe and wear it as comfortably as her father had. As if Colin Majors was a part of the unfolding saga of Cheyenne Moon. Her thoughts were out of control. She was playing with fire by giving them free reign. Her recent discontent and secret loneliness must be getting the better of her. Abruptly she stood up and took her glass to the sink. “Well, I’m feelin’ less antsy,” she lied. “You’re welcome to the bottle.”

      It surprised her to find him repositioned in the doorway when she pivoted to make a speedy exit. He moved like a jungle cat. He was staring at her with that same degree of intensity that had caused a warm rush to travel the length of her body in an instant. It was happening again, this immediate reaction, and the fact that she could neither dismiss it nor control it was the most unnerving part of all. An exchange of polite good-nights was not his intent. She knew he wanted more. The question was, did he know he’d touched on a weak spot within her, the existence of which not even she had recognized until this very moment, and which frightened her to the very core of her being? Instinct told her not to give in to such foolish desire. She could overcome this sudden weakness for a man if she blocked out the disturbing fact that he was the first to cause her heart to somersault in her chest and her tongue to tangle when he looked deep into her eyes, as if he thought there was something hidden, maybe even forbidden, for only him to see. “Something else on your mind, Colin?” she asked, somehow managing to maintain a casual demeanor.

      “Yeah. you. You’re on my mind. I know it’s nuts, but I can’t see the harm in two people sharing a moment that, if one of them doesn’t speak up, will pass.” There, he’d said it out loud. What the hell! He might as well play it out. “I don’t want to lie in my bed all night wondering what we would be like together. There’s a chemistry between us. If you’re half as honest as 1 think you are, you won’t deny it.” He ended the confession on a dare.

      He had her there. She wasn’t any good at guile games. “Wasn’t it you who told me that you generally like to know a woman better before playing grab-ass?” she asked, not attempting to disguise the “gotcha” expression on her face.

      He leaned a shoulder to the doorjamb and cast her a rakish grin. “A man’s entitled to retract a statement made under duress.”

      His comeback produced a throaty laugh. “Look here, Mr. Majors-”

      “Colin,” he corrected her.

      “Colin,” she obliged him. “First off, I don’t make a habit of falling into bed with any and every man who drifts onto my land. As a matter of fact, I’m having a hard time recalling when it was that I last made love. Running a ranch this size is a big job. It’s long hours and hard work. I worry about droughts and screwworms infecting my herds, not the prospect of having an orgasm. Which brings me to the second and probably most convincing reason for us sharing a drink rather than a bed.” She paused to catch her breath.

      “Which is?” he prompted.

      His cocky look made her want to shock him. Colin Majors couldn’t hold a candle to the rowdy cowhands she dealt with on a daily basis. She was accustomed to men’s ways and could be as headstrong and as crass as the best of them, if need be. “I’m probably way too wild a cowgirl for a city slicker like you. And I sure don’t fancy being the object of your locker-room boastin’ at the country club. Besides which, even though you may not have a missus, I got no doubts you’re expected somewhere by someone, Mr. Majors.” She purposely distanced him and needled him all at once by reducing him to mister status again. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for delaying you even further.” She’d meant to be flip and demonstrated as much with a toss of her brunette head. Her smile was equally as smug as his.

      He appreciated her spunk and enjoyed the sparring match. Cocking a brow, he simply said, “My schedule is flexible and I’m not so sure that a city slicker like me isn’t an equal match for a spunky cowgirl like you. I’m willing to risk it.”

      The gall of the man! Was he actually smirking? “Well, I’m not willing to risk it,” she shot back. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for less than you expected. I’m going to bed. Alone.” That was her last word on the subject.

      But it was Colin who made the final move as she attempted to sweep past him. His arm snaked out, coiling about her waist, drawing her in and locking her tight against his granite length. Without warning, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her long and deep. Her response surprised her as much as it did him. He expected resistance to his advances, but she did not struggle to extricate herself from his grip. She expected to remain impassive, then spurn him with an exaggerated wipe of her mouth after the act. Instead, she responded to his kiss with equal ardor. The same glib tongue that had just a moment ago lashed his manly ego now whetted his appetite for the passion he yearned to sample. Something that should not have happened-an erotic fantasy that should never have been given full vent-was taking a twist neither one had anticipated.

      “Locker-room brag isn’t my style,” he murmured, sliding a hand up her back and gently cupping her neck. “Trust me, E.Z.” His hungry mouth traced the curve of her throat. “You’re my sweet secret. Let’s make a wild memory. I promise never to share it with another living soul.”

      IT WAS ONE of the stormiest nights ever to have beset Cheyenne Moon. It caused the seasoned hands in the bunkhouse to reminisce about old times and try to top one another’s stories about other bad storms they had witnessed. The fresh-faced newcomers listened intently to the tales, never knowing what was truth and what was pure exaggeration.

      Gleaning reality from fantasy was not always an easy proposition. Though the boss lady was a savvy woman and rarely got taken in by the practical jokes played in fun or the wild yarns spun around a camp fire, she’d fallen for a good-looking, smooth-as-silk stranger in a heat-flash.

      If someone had told the crew in the bunkhouse what was transpiring up in the big house, none of the boys would’ve believed a word of it. Nobody would be laughing and the fella spreadin’ such a lie would be horsewhipped. Anybody who knew Elise Winston knew she wasn’t a gullible gal. She was foolish over only one thing-the land that had belonged to her family for better than a century. She might take risks where it was concerned, but never would she lose her head or act rashly because of some man.

       CHAPTER THREE

      THE WEATHER SYSTEM moved out of Bandera County about 4 a.m., which was approximately the same time Elise slipped out of the guest room and made her way to her own sleeping quarters down the hall. She eased into the master suite, softly shut the door, then leaned back against the solid wood, taking a moment to collect herself.

      As the dense cloud cover rolled back to the west, making way for the break of dawn to the east, most everybody else on the ranch was taking advantage of the best hour of sleep-the one that came right before they were ousted out of a deep, dreamy slumber and had to face the endless cycle of chores for the next twelve. Everyone, that is, except for Luther, the cook, who routinely rose hours before the others, and the boss lady, who’d whiled away the night making love with a man she hardly knew. In stark contrast to the clearing skies over Cheyenne Moon, the past few hours of hazy lovemaking clung to Elise like morning fog, its surreal effect wafting over her and making murky mush of her mind. She couldn’t seem to shake the passion that had clouded her senses and stormed her heart.

      She gave it another try, pulling away from the support of