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  The two ambled along in silence until they were well out of earshot from the men. Big Bob rested his hand on Rusty’s shoulder and directed him to a large rock where they both sat. After a few moments of silence, he spoke. “My wife means the world to me.”

  Since that didn’t require an answer, Rusty waited for the man to continue.

  “She has this arthritis thing that seems to be getting worse.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, then resettled the hat. “Doctor tells me the only thing to do for her is to move to Arizona Territory.”

  Rusty’s heart jumped. Was Big Bob selling the place? Was he going to be out of a job? The man seemed to be gathering his thoughts, so he just waited.

  Big Bob turned and looked at him. “You told me when we talked in Kansas that you wanted a spread of your own.”

  Rusty nodded, his mouth dry. “Yes, sir. I sure do.”

  “I like the way you do things. I know you haven’t been here long, but I can see the respect you’ve gained from the men, and the way things run real smooth.” He leaned his forearms on his knees, gazing at the ranch house, corral, and barn. Several men hung on the rail fence, watching the horse giving the cowboy a rough time.

  Rusty waited as long as he could stand it, and then said, “What are you saying?”

  Big Bob continued to stare straight ahead. “How would you like to buy into the ranch as my partner?”

  Chapter Eight

  Rachel had taken extra care with her appearance as she readied herself for the dance. Her rose gown was lovely, even if slightly outdated. She’d spruced it up a bit with lace trim on the hem of the skirt and the cuffs.

  After dressing, she stared at herself in the mirror, surprised the dress still fit. She’d worn it for her wedding ten years past. With no reason to ever need another fancy dress, this was the only one she owned. With Amelia’s help, she’d put her hair up in a fancy topknot, with curls loose at her temples and neck. She pulled the finishing touch, her one good shawl—white linen shot through with silver threads—from her drawer and wrapped it around her shoulders. With a pinch to her cheeks for color, she left the bedroom to meet Rusty, waiting for her in the parlor.

  After leaving last-minute instructions with Will and Amelia, who was still sulking over not being able to attend the dance, they left the house. Rusty helped Rachel into the borrowed buggy and jumped up on the seat. With a snap of the reins they pulled away from the ranch and were off to the Grange Hall.

  She glanced at Rusty, chiding herself for the fluttering in her stomach. His hair still damp from his bath, the curls at his nape hung over the collar of his white shirt. He wore black trousers and a black string tie. The play of muscles under his shirt as he directed the horses made her squirm. What was wrong with her? Sure he was handsome, had always been, but for some reason she seemed more aware of him tonight.

  His light scent of bay rum drifted to her, mixed with the end-of-summer flowers along the road. “I haven’t been to a dance since before Will was born.”

  He flashed her a smile. “You and your husband weren’t high steppers?”

  “Heavens, no. I doubt any more boring people than us ever walked the earth. I always enjoyed home life, and Billy—well—he worked hard, and wanted nothing more than to relax when he was home.”

  “What type of work did Billy do?”

  “He was a bank clerk.” She grinned at Rusty’s surprised look. “Yes, I know that’s not exactly hard work, but it seemed to wear him out.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. Hard work to Rusty had a whole different meaning.

  A short time later they pulled up to the Grange Hall. Buggies, carriages and even one automobile sat in neat rows in front of the building. It seemed as though hundreds of lamps burned inside, casting an almost daylight glow from the windows, lighting the outside. Arm in arm, couples made their way from their vehicles to the Hall, chatting excitedly. It seemed everyone was dressed in their finest.

  Rachel took Rusty’s offered arm. “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t even know how often they have these dances. Do you know?”

  “Lefty said about four or five times a year.”

  The sounds of laughter and the hum of conversation greeted them as Rusty escorted her through the door, his warm hand placed firmly on her lower back. Three men stood on a raised platform at one end of the hall, tuning up their instruments. The excitement in the room was palpable. Rachel rolled her eyes as women embraced, acting as though they hadn’t seen each other in years, instead of last Sunday at church.

  “I wonder if Ellie is here,” Rachel said as she went up on her tiptoes, stretching her neck to search the crowd.

  “Ellie?”

  She steadied herself on his arm. “My sister. She teaches at Guthrie High School.”

  “You never talk about your family.”

  Giving up on searching the crowd, she lowered her heels and turned to him. “I don’t, do I? I have two brothers and a sister. Hunter is a federal marshal—we don’t see him very often. Michael is a pharmacist and married. He and Heidi have a little baby girl, Madeline.”

  The first notes of a lively country dance started up. Rusty tilted his head toward the dance floor since the noise of the crowd and the music made conversation impossible. Rachel pulled him close and spoke into his ear. “I haven’t danced in ages. Can we sit a few out, so I can just watch?”

  “Whatever you want. Let’s see if we can get out of everyone’s way.” He grasped her hand and moved through the crowd. They wended their way past groups of people lining up for the dance. Rusty found them a place against a wall far enough away from the music that they could actually hear each other.

  “Rachel Stevens, is that you?” Katie Brenner, a woman well known in the community as having eyes for the best looking men in town, strolled up to Rachel, her hands extended as if they were the best of friends. They were not.

  “I haven’t seen you at one of these dances in years.” She laughed gaily, her gaze the entire time on Rusty. “And who is this?” She placed her hand on Rusty’s arm, looking up at him as if he might be her next meal.

  Rachel gritted her teeth. “Rusty McIntyre, the new foreman at the Lazy Sunset. Rusty, Katie Brenner.” She spoke quickly, waving her hand back and forth between the two of them.

  “Really?” Katie raised her eyebrows as if such a statement was the most amazing thing she’d heard all year. “Well, I must make a visit to the ranch sometime soon. I make a mean pecan pie, Mr. McIntyre.”

  Rusty threw his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, hugging her close. “Isn’t that something? So does Rachel.”

  “But I do so much more than baking.” Her cupid lips drew into a pout that had Rachel’s dinner climbing up the back of her throat.

  Katie took hold of Rusty’s arm just as the next number, a waltz, started up. “Rachel, I’m sure you won’t mind if I borrow Mr. McIntyre, do you?” Without waiting for a reply, or even glancing in Rachel’s direction, she tugged Rusty toward the dance floor.

  Rachel told herself over and over she didn’t care one whit if Rusty waltzed all night with Katie. Or any other woman at the dance, for that matter. He was a good-looking, single man, and could dance with whomever he pleased. She plastered a smile on her face, her jaw so tight it was amazing her teeth didn’t shatter.

  “Mrs. Stevens, may I have the pleasure of this dance?” Greg Hancock stood in front of her, grinning like a small boy. The cowboy had been with the Lazy Sunset since before Rachel began working there. A widower himself, he’d shown some interest in her when she first arrived, however soon gave up when she remained polite, but distant.

  Although she would have preferred to share the waltz with Rusty, since Katie had beat her to it, she might as well enjoy herself, anyway. “Yes, I would like that.” She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor where Katie was practically climbing up Rusty’s body.

  Not that she cared. Not one whit.

  ***

  If Rusty had to mo
ve Katie’s hand one more time, he would do the ungentlemanly thing and leave her right here in the middle of the dance floor. Her delicate fingers, resting at his waist, kept wandering toward his backside. Aside from the soiled doves in a bordello, he’d never encountered a woman so forward before. Cut from the same cloth as his erstwhile fiancée, apparently.

  While he continued to wrestle with Katie, he twisted and turned, curious to see Greg Hancock approach Rachel. What was that old coot doing, cozying up to her? He was old enough to be her father. When she smiled up at the man and took his hand to accept a dance, his gut twisted. Turning Katie in a circle, he maneuvered his way through the other dancers.

  “Why are you dragging me across the floor?” Katie frowned when she saw the direction he was headed.

  “It was too crowded where we were.”

  The dance seemed to go on forever. He watched how close Greg and Rachel danced, not happy with the lack of space between them. He tried to catch Rachel’s eye, but she never glanced his way.

  What the hell was the matter with him? He had no claim on Rachel. Maybe he should be taking advantage of all the signals Katie was sending him. He glanced down at her. All wrong. She was the wrong height, the wrong hair color. Hell, the curves she pushed against him were wrong.

  Damnation. She wasn’t Rachel.

  Maybe it was time to admit he had feelings for the woman. Feelings beyond friendship. If he wanted to settle down—not saying that he did—Rachel was everything he would want in a wife. She was beautiful, compassionate, a wonderful mother, and made his blood boil.

  The night he’d sat in her kitchen, drinking tea of all things, with her in only a nightgown, it had all seemed so right. What had not seemed right was when he kissed her goodnight and walked out the door. It had taken him hours to cool down enough to sleep.

  If he and Big Bob worked out the deal they’d discussed, he would have something to offer a wife. A place to call home that was his. He would slowly buy Big Bob out, giving him all he’d saved so far as a down payment.

  Big Bob explained that he’d already found a house in Arizona Territory where he wanted to move his wife. Rusty’s down payment on the ranch would help to get them settled. The quarterly payments would provide their support, with enough left over to tuck away for their old age.

  “Hey, you haven’t been listening to me,” Katie whined.

  He looked down at his dance partner, surprised to find her in his arms. Certainly not the woman he wanted there. But did he desire more than that from Rachel? There was no doubt he lusted after her. And, although she tried to hide it, her attraction to him was very obvious.

  At last the final note in the number sounded. He squeezed Katie’s hand and uttered, “Thanks,” before he turned and strode to where Rachel was returning from her dance.

  “My turn, Hancock,” he said as he took Rachel’s hand and tucked her arm into his. He bent and whispered, “Let’s take a stroll outside. It’s warm in here.”

  The night air felt good on his face. But what felt better was Rachel snug against his side as they walked.

  “I’m surprised Katie let you go long enough to take a stroll. Or is that why you were warm?” In the scant moonlight, it was hard to tell if Rachel was teasing or perhaps a bit . . . jealous.

  “An annoying woman.”

  “Really? Most men think she’s quite friendly.”

  He’d had his fill of friendly women. His fiancée had been friendly, and he’d been stupid enough to believe that’s all she was. He never wanted to go through that hurt again. “I’m not most men.”

  She acknowledged his answer with a slight tilt of her head, and the ghost of a smile. They strolled past a window, and the lamplight reflected the golden highlights in her brown hair. She’d done something special with it tonight, but all he wanted to do was take it down and run his fingers through the silky waves. Watch it spill over her bare shoulders. He discreetly shook his leg to adjust his trousers.

  Other couples had decided to take the air. They passed several Rachel knew, and she stopped to introduce him. Much to his annoyance, a couple of the men gave her a more than friendly appraisal.

  They returned to the dance hall just as a waltz struck up. Not wanting another man to claim her, he took her small hand in his and led her to the dance floor. She turned in his arms and settled her palm on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close, the scent of something flowery drifting toward him. Her smile as she gazed up at him was his undoing. He quickly moved into the steps of the dance before he made a complete idiot of himself by hauling her against his chest and kissing the hell out of her.

  The rest of the night passed with dodging Katie and trying to keep calm when several of the ranch cowboys asked Rachel to dance. Since she’d never attended any of these dances, the men were thrilled to see her enjoying herself. A little too thrilled, in some cases.

  ***

  “Did you enjoy the dance?” Rusty asked as he pulled on the reins to stop the carriage in front of Rachel’s house.

  “Yes, I did. I’m sorry I’ve missed them all these years.” A social life had never seemed important when she was so tired from cooking three meals a day for a bunch of hungry cowboys. Any energy left, she saved for her son.

  She glanced at Rusty as he wrapped the leather straps around the dash rail. The scent of soap and clean linen from his starched shirt teased her nostrils. Heat from his body where his arm touched hers in the confined space alerted her senses. Her breasts began to tingle and her woman parts grew heavy and moist.

  Not since she’d nursed Will all those years ago had her body responded to another person like this. His infant wails had set her nipples to leaking, much like her lower parts were softening now. Billy’s mere presence hadn’t given her the same reaction. Their loving had been pleasant, but nothing that she’d missed over the years.

  Something deep inside told her intimacy with Rusty would be very different. She shivered at the image of his eyes piercing her as his strong, muscular body rested atop hers, joining them in pleasure. A burst of heat started in her tummy and raced to her cheeks, sweat breaking out on her brow, almost eliciting a moan.

  “Are you cold?”

  Cold? Lord, no. She was burning up with images she had no right to have about this man who was not her husband. “No.” Her dry mouth made it difficult to get the words out.

  Rusty shifted and rested his arm on the back of the carriage seat. “It’s not that late. I could stand a snack. You have any pie at your place?”

  “I do. But do we want to take a chance on waking the kids?”

  “Absolutely not.” He leaned in close as if to tell her a great secret. “Here’s the plan. You sneak into your house, steal your own pie and hurry to my place where I’ll be making coffee.”

  Mesmerized by his closeness, she whispered, “I’d rather have tea.”

  He kissed the end of her nose. “Tea it is.”

  He jumped down and helped her out of the carriage. Before she could take a single step, he pulled her into his arms and stared at her. “You know, in the moonlight you look different, ethereal, like a nighttime nymph.”

  “I do?” Rusty was so close she could see the small stubble on his chin that he missed when he’d shaved. She fisted her hand to keep from reaching up to brush aside the hair that fell on his forehead. Her heart thumped so hard she was sure that alone would wake Will and Amelia. She had to get herself under control.

  Before her thoughts cleared, he bent his head and brushed her lips lightly with his own. “Don’t be long.”

  A slight shake of her head was all she managed before he released her and turned on his heel toward his house. She watched his familiar swagger for a moment, then taking a deep breath, she walked on shaky legs to her front door. A small lamp burned at the entrance, the only light in the house. She listened for a minute, but all was quiet.

  After checking Amelia and Will, who were both fast asleep, she took the rest of the pie from the sm
all icebox in the kitchen and headed to the door. Resting her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. If she walked out this door into Rusty’s house, something would change tonight. She sensed it, her insides throbbing with feelings she’d never experienced before. The awareness between them had shifted.

  Both fearful and excited at what the next step would be, she took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob.

  Chapter Nine

  Rusty waited for her in the doorway of his house. The scant light behind him illuminated his body, the dark outline mesmerizing. He lounged against the doorframe, arms crossed, his shoulder against the wood. The fluttering in Rachel’s stomach grew, waves of awareness washing over her as she moved toward him, her body like a piece of metal to his magnet.

  He straightened and reached out for the pie. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.”

  Dry-mouthed, she merely nodded and followed him inside. The sound of the door closing seemed to seal her fate. There was no going back now.

  Once he deposited the pie on the kitchen table, he turned to her and reached out. “Come here.”

  In a daze of desire, she took the few steps toward him and was immediately engulfed within his arms. “Can you feel it, sweetheart?”

  “What?” The word barely made it past her lips.

  “This.” He took her palm and placed it over his heart. “Never have I felt so terrified, so unsure of myself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I want you so much, it hurts. It fills me up with a need so great I can’t think of anything else most of the time.” He gently brushed the hair from her forehead and smiled. “I know you feel it, too. I can see it in your eyes, and how your body trembles.” His hands slid up her back, to her shoulders, and then cupped her cheeks. “My bed is merely a few steps away. However, if you don’t want this, it will be miles in the distance. I won’t force you, but be aware I will do everything in my power to convince you this is right.”