The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty. Donna Kauffman

then give it to her.”

      “Whole?”

      Elena nodded. “No cooking or catering required.” Then she grinned. “She probably won’t even hold you to the movie offer.”

      He swore he felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

      She shrugged. “Just trying to give you an edge.”

      “I need an edge?”

      Her grin turned a shade wry. “Maybe you’re not used to needing one. But it wouldn’t hurt your chances.”

      “What you’re saying is, that women aren’t all that different, no matter the species. So when you come calling, have something in hand.”

      Her eyes twinkled. “It certainly never hurts.”

      And how was it he’d never noticed the light scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose? Their implied innocence was so at odds with her knowing eyes and full-bodied laugh. But then, she was a study in contradictions when it came to his reaction to her. What was one more thing?

      Somehow they’d come to stand closer to one another than he’d realized. She was stroking Petunia’s neck, and their fingers accidentally brushed across one another. She pulled her hand away, and stepped back. Other than that flash of embarrassment when she’d mentioned noticing his scent, it was the first time he’d seen uncertainty in her expression or demeanor.

      “Okay, enough fraternizing,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she meant him with the horse…or the two of them with each other. She nodded toward the halter. “Time to get that on her if we’re going to get anything else done today.”

      “You’re the one who insisted on me making friends first.”

      “Here, take the rope.” She handed him the end with the clasp. “Then you’re going to loop the rope over her neck and hook it, making a loose collar and leash, to give you some control over her movement while you put the halter on.”

      She moved behind his shoulder and reached past him to show him how to work the rope and slip it around the base of the horse’s neck. He was paying attention, but he was also noticing that she had a nice scent, too. Dammit.

      “Now, transfer the rope to your other hand, and carefully slip this end over Petunia’s muzzle.” She turned the halter so it was facing the right direction, but keeping it in his hand.

      He felt himself leaning closer, breathing in her scent. Which was dangerous, given his current state of mind—and khakis, but an impulse he seemed helpless to curb. She was wearing overalls that had seen better days. Months, even. And by rights she should smell like a barn. Only she didn’t. And, standing this close, he noticed how smooth and soft-looking her skin was. For someone working such a physical job, exposed to the sun and wind, he’d expect her to look a bit more…weathered. Then there were those freckles sprinkled across the tip of her nose. They were cute, and she wasn’t the cute type. She was no-nonsense and wore her confidence as easily as she did those ancient overalls. What she was not was freckles and soft skin and a slightly lush bottom lip that just begged a man to taste it. Bite it. Just a little.

      “Confused?”

      If she only knew. He turned just as she went to lean in to move his hand on the harness. The result was his nose, buried in her hair, right where he’d wanted it moments ago, and knew he had no business leaving it. He should be immediately backing up, putting the appropriate space back between them. In his mind, that’s exactly what he did. In reality, though, he took full advantage of the accidental contact and breathed in the scent that was all Elena.

      And, he belatedly realized, she was letting him.

      Of course, she was more or less trapped between him and a whole lot of horse, but she could have shifted away, or given any signal that she wasn’t enjoying the incidental moment of intimacy.

      Like he was.

      Even then, his strategic, work-mode brain didn’t kick in. The one that should be telling him to use the moment to his advantage. It was true, he didn’t use sex or seduction as a means to an end, but he didn’t rule out a little flirting. It was a very human, natural form of communication that men and women did on street corners and in elevators every day. Done properly, it lowered defenses and put a potential contact at ease. As long as it was harmless and he could keep his emotional distance, no harm, no foul. But this wasn’t that. This…well, he didn’t quite know what this was. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel all that harmless.

      Which was, in the end, what convinced him to put an end to the moment. One of the main rules of his job was, never stay in a situation you don’t understand any longer than absolutely necessary. At the moment, he felt totally out to sea and that was definitely not a typical place for him to be.

      “I think I got it,” he said, and shifted away from her to slip the rope over Petunia’s neck, then guide the halter over her muzzle.

      Elena reached up and helped him secure the nylon strapping. “Buckle the sides there, and I’ll get the back.”

      He fumbled with the unfamiliar rig for a moment as her continued presence deep in his personal space continued to mess with his equilibrium on almost all fronts, then finally got it all snapped into place. He rubbed Petunia’s muzzle and shifted so that his attention was fully on the horse. And not on how badly he wanted to sink his hands into her hair…and his tongue into that sweet mouth of hers. “Thanks for putting up with that,” he murmured to the horse. “I’ll get better at it.” He caught Elena’s look from the corner of his eye and was drawn right back to the fire. “What?”

      A brief smile played across her face. And a mouth he really had to stop noticing. And looking at. And wondering.

      “Nothing,” she said.

      “Are you surprised she’s not taking a chunk out of me? Is she some secret demon horse who’s suddenly going to unleash fury on me so I’ll stop this insanity and abandon the lesson idea?”

      Elena laughed that laugh again and it made something inside of him quiver, like a tuning fork finding the perfect vibration. He really had to get them out of this stall.

      “Nothing like that. Petunia is a total sweetheart. Any horse can act up, but a demon she’s not. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”

      “Especially a friend of Kate’s, you mean?”

      “Anyone,” she reiterated, then her eyes danced a bit. “I care about the horses too much for that.”

      Rafe had to smile at that. “Ah. It’s all about the horses, then.”

      “Most of the time. They’re pretty straightforward, as a rule.”

      “Unlike people, you mean.”

      “You like putting words in my mouth, don’t you?”

      He absolutely refused to go there, but his mind provided the visual for him, anyway. It took great willpower not to look at that bottom lip, that mouth, and imagine what it would look like, wrapped around—“Actually, I’m not assuming anything,” he said, damning the rough edge to his voice. “That’s why I’m asking.”

      “Horses can fool you some of the time. People are better at it—that’s all I’m saying.”

      She was clearly making a reference to her already voiced doubts about his real reasons for taking lessons. Her forthrightness was to her credit.

      “Are you?” he asked, figuring he could be just as forthright.

      “Am I what? Better at fooling people?” She didn’t look panicked or concerned by the question. In fact, thus far, he didn’t have any indication she wasn’t exactly what she claimed to be. Then again, being as sharp as she seemed to be, he didn’t doubt she knew exactly how to handle herself, and, perhaps, him. Keeping him on the defensive was an excellent offensive tactic, one he often employed. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional.