Taming Blackhawk. Barbara McCauley

shamelessly once again, making her blush.

      “I’ll walk you to your car,” Rand said when she turned to shake his hand, as well.

      “That’s not nec—”

      But he was already holding the door for her, waiting, so she said goodbye one more time to his family, then walked outside.

      She stopped on the porch and offered her hand again. “Thank you for your time, Rand. I—”

      “I said I’d walk you to your car.”

      He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her down the porch steps and to her car. Her body betrayed her by responding to Rand’s touch. Grace pressed her lips together in irritation. Damn this man. He frustrated the hell out of her, in more ways than one. Heat shimmered up her spine; her skin tightened; her pulse jump-roped.

      There was no other word for her reaction to him than pure, man-to-woman, simple lust.

      She’d had boyfriends; she’d been attracted to men before. But she’d never experienced anything like this. She suspected she might never again.

      There weren’t very many Rand Sloans in this world.

      Grace wasn’t certain if that was a good or a bad thing.

      He opened the car door and she half expected him to pick her up and toss her inside, he seemed so anxious to be rid of her. Instead, he hesitated, looked down at her in the dim light that shone from the house.

      “I appreciate you being nice to my mom,” he said, his hand still on the door. “Things haven’t always been easy for her.”

      Or you, either, Grace almost said. “She’s a nice woman. I’m glad we met. If I get to Vegas, I’ll look her up.”

      He nodded.

      But still he didn’t move.

      “Well,” she said awkwardly, then held out her hand again. “Thank you again.”

      He ignored her hand. His gaze fell to her mouth; Grace felt her heart lurch.

      His jaw tightened. When he turned away from her, Grace’s heart sank.

      She nearly laughed at herself as she stood there and watched him walk back to the house. Good heavens, what had she thought? That he was actually going to kiss her? That would be ridiculous. Absurd. They’d just met, and he’d made it clear he wanted no part—

      Oh, dear.

      He’d whipped back around toward her, a determined, intense expression on his face.

      Her breath caught.

      As he approached, she opened her mouth to say something, but the words were lost when he reached out and dragged her to him.

      “I have to know,” he said fiercely, then covered her mouth with his own.

      Nothing could have prepared Grace for the onslaught of emotions swirling through her. His mouth was hard, demanding. A little angry, even. She tried to hang on to reason, but it seemed as if the ground had opened up under her and sucked her into a world where reason and logic simply didn’t exist. She held on to him, not just because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Her legs had turned to the consistency of overcooked noodles.

      His kiss shocked her, but what shocked her even more was the fact that she was kissing him back.

      She felt the heat of his long, hard body press against her, smelled the masculine scent of his skin. His mouth moved over hers; his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, then his tongue invaded. She welcomed him, met every hot, wet sweep of his tongue with her own.

      She thought what she’d felt for him before had been simple lust. How wrong she’d been. There was nothing simple about this at all. It was the most complex, most complicated, most mind-blowing experience she’d ever encountered.

      And then it was over.

      Just like that, he released her and stepped away. She had to reach for the door frame or she would have slid to the ground.

      “Goodbye, Miss Grace,” he said, his voice rough and husky.

      Then he turned and walked not to the house, but toward the barn. Still struggling to breathe, she watched him disappear into the darkness.

      Two hours later Rand could still taste her.

      Even as he swung the hammer and slammed it down on the head of the nail, the taste of rich, sweet chocolate lingered in his mouth. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. The feel of her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest sang in his blood.

      He had to be the biggest fool that ever lived.

      He’d thought that one little taste of her would put her out of his mind. That whatever attraction he’d been feeling toward the woman would dissipate if he wasn’t left wondering what it would be like to give in, to wrap himself around her and just let himself feel.

      Big, big mistake.

      As if his life hadn’t been difficult enough right now, he’d had to go and make it even more complicated.

      Swearing under his breath, he reached for another plank of wood and fitted it snugly against the one he’d just hammered in place. Eleven o’clock at night might be an odd time to repair broken stalls, but what the hell. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, anyway.

      He appreciated that his brothers understood his need to be alone tonight. They knew about the letter, too. He’d shown it to them when it had first come. Matt had whistled under his breath; Sam had sworn softly. They hadn’t asked him what he was going to do. They both knew that Rand would tell them when he was ready.