A Cowboy Christmas. Janette Kenny

on the terrace. He started to get out to help her in, but she waved away his help.

      “I can manage,” she said, and matched action to words.

      He settled the heavy buffalo robe over her lap, then gave the lines a snap. Bells jingled as the sleigh took off with a slight jerk.

      “Will we have to go far to find a good tree?” she asked.

      He motioned to the mountains in the near distance. “A good fifteen-minute drive there and back. Should be able to find a decent tree in no time.”

      Forty minutes later Reid was chewing on those words and not liking the taste one damned bit. Miss Cade wasn’t just wanting a nice six-foot tree. She was determined to find the perfect pine tree among the hundreds here.

      He stamped his cold feet and glared at her. “What’s wrong with this one?”

      She gave it a critical eye. “It’s a bit sparse.”

      So was his patience. “Won’t that give you more space for decorations and such?”

      “I suppose it could.” She turned away from him and walked off. “This one has possibilities.”

      Reid swallowed a curse and stomped over to her, hoping to hell she’d finally found the right tree. “You want this one?”

      “I’m thinking.”

      “That’s what I get for hauling you along,” he muttered under his breath.

      She shot him a damning glare, then turned her attention back to the tree. “Look! It’s got pinecones on it.”

      “That good or bad?” he asked, because if she wanted them off there, he’d be more than happy to oblige her.

      Anything to get her to pick a damned tree so he could cut it down and get back to the ranch before they both froze to death.

      “I like them,” she said at last, and then favored him with such a bright smile that he damned near forgot to breathe. “This is the one.”

      Reid tore his gaze from her and stared at the tree that looked no different than the other pines dotting this slope. Hell, there was just no figuring how a woman’s mind worked.

      He dropped on his knees and scraped the snow away from the tree so he could get to the trunk. Even then he had to lie on his gut so he could cut it down close to the ground like she wanted.

      He gritted his teeth against the cold and wet seeping into his bones, but the work kept his mind off the enticing woman standing far too close to him. But not for long.

      In no time, he’d chopped down the tree and had it loaded on the sleigh. It was just him and her and wild thoughts about getting warm under a buffalo robe.

      “Let’s get back to the ranch.”

      “Wait! I need evergreen boughs for my festoons,” she said.

      Damn! Thoughts of her haggling over which boughs to cut made his head pound.

      “How many?” he heard himself ask and wondered if the cold had frozen his brain.

      She frowned, and he knew before she spoke that he wasn’t going to like her answer one little bit. “At least two dozen.”

      “Let’s make this easy and chop down another tree.”

      “I suppose that’s the wisest thing,” she said, but he was already in the process of cutting another pine half as big as the first one.

      That ought to give her enough evergreen to cover every shelf in his house.

      His fingers were stiff and numb by the time he hefted the second tree onto the back of the sleigh. “Now can we go home?”

      “We certainly can,” she said, and her wistful smile wasn’t lost on him.

      Once she was settled in the sleigh, he climbed in beside her and clapped his hands in an attempt to thaw them some. Bits of ice flew everywhere.

      “Good heavens, why didn’t you tell me your hands were near freezing?” she asked.

      He frowned. “They aren’t that bad.”

      She gave an unladylike snort and grabbed his hands, sending pinpricks dancing over his palms. “They’re like ice, but at least they aren’t wet through.”

      “More reason to head home now.” Because sitting in a sleigh with her holding his hands was heating him up below the belt.

      “We will once we take the chill off your hands,” she said, and before he could voice an objection, she tugged his gloved hands between her thighs and clamped them tight like a vise to heaven.

      At least a heaven he longed to see and feel and taste.

      His heart stuttered to a stop while his mind raced with what she’d boldly done. She couldn’t be that naïve, but the concern in her expressive eyes and the firming of her kissable mouth proved she was dead serious about warming his hands.

      They still felt like chunks of ice, but the rest of him was heating up damned fast. Didn’t matter that even if he had feeling in his fingers besides pins and needles, there was yards of petticoats and stiff skirt that barred him from stroking her skin.

      That’s what he longed to do. It’d been a long time since he’d felt this pull toward a woman. It was so strong he didn’t think about anything but satisfying his baser needs. It was so powerful he damn near forgot his vow to marry Cheryl.

      He should have pulled his hands from her then and there, for fat flakes of snow had begun falling again. Instead, he curled his fingers around her thighs.

      She stiffened, and that jolt of awareness shot from her into him. Her eyes were huge and turning smoky and clearly surprised that something she’d started with innocent intentions was fast turning intimate.

      “I want you,” he said, intrigued by the snow that caught on her hair, her thickly curled lashes, her full ripe lips.

      She swallowed, and the pulse in her neck warbled. “You can’t. You’re engaged.”

      “That doesn’t stop the wanting.”

      He leaned close to steal a kiss, pausing long enough for her to pull away from him. But she didn’t move. She just stared at him with those big eyes full of wonder and passion.

      His head dipped to hers, and he kissed the snow from her eyes, her nose, before settling over her mouth. Hers trembled slightly, and he felt that hesitation clear to his soul.

      A gentleman would have ended it now. He should’ve apologized for his boldness. For taking advantage of the situation.

      But Reid was no gentleman.

      He was a bastard, and he intended to take all that Ellie Jo Cade was willing to give him. Still, he kept his hands trapped between her thighs amid all that fabric that deprived him of exploring her as he longed to do.

      There was something wickedly alluring about just kissing her. It seemed more intimate, like a stolen moment that was as fresh as the new-fallen snow.

      She tasted of frosty winters and just a hint of spice. She was the dessert he’d hungered for. He damn sure wasn’t going to content himself with a sampling.

      He deepened the kiss, and she leaned into him and moaned as if welcoming him home. He took his time, his tongue coaxing hers to duel, their breaths mingling as one.

      But what jolted through him like lightning and set his blood on fire was when her hands stole onto his thigh. She didn’t squeeze or stroke or rub him. Just let her small, gloved hand rest on his leg. But that connection was the most erotic thing he’d felt in ages.

      Sweat gathered on his brow and his crotch got a bit tighter than comfort allowed. This was do-or-die time. He’d have to take her here in the sleigh, or stop kissing her.

      She pulled away from him, her eyes drowsy and her lips