One Night Scandal. Joanne Rock
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shadow emerged from behind a support post.
A curvy shadow.
Brock recognized the shape of her instantly. No mean feat considering she’d been mostly covered in straw the last time he’d seen her. Apparently, his imagination had done a highly accurate job of filling in the blanks where her body was concerned.
She was dressed in dark leggings and a dark T-shirt. Her platinum hair was tucked under a ball cap with the logo of a West Coast football team. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup, he could see her features better now. The long lashes over her eyes. A few freckles on her nose. Then the stubborn tilt to her chin as she spotted him just inside the barn entrance.
“I sure hope you’re off the clock at this hour.” Brock summoned a smile, not wanting to startle her when she was alone. “I came back to make sure your director knew enough to call it a day.”
She shuffled from one tennis shoe to the other. Was she uneasy?
He took a side step to lean against the barn door, giving her plenty of space to walk out if she chose.
She folded her arms across her chest and stood her ground instead.
“So did I,” she claimed, although something vaguely defensive about the way she said it made him wonder if that was true. “I walked off the set right after you did, but the director was in such a snit, I returned because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t—” She took a deep breath and let it back out as if she was forcing herself to relax. “Taking advantage of people with no seniority.”
Her careful phrasing seemed...off. She was hiding something, and it didn’t take a genius to see she was uncomfortable. Maybe he’d been mistaken about the attraction before. Maybe it had been all one-sided.
“That would make him even more of an ass than I already took him for,” Brock said, preparing to leave, in case he was responsible for her feeling uneasy. Straightening from the doorframe, he was about to wish her a good-night when her laugh caught him off guard.
A genuine laugh. Surprise music to his ears.
Some of his tension eased as hers seemed to.
“He is. Most definitely.” She took a step closer to him, a smile lighting up her whole face, transforming her from pretty to breathtaking. “I’m Hannah Ryder, by the way.”
She extended her hand. Anticipation flared at the thought of touching her.
“Brock. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed.
His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Just enough to see her notice. Her pupils widened a fraction. She sucked in a quick breath.
Gratified that he hadn’t been wrong about their first meeting—that there was something hot lurking just beneath the surface between them—he released her hand. He hadn’t mentioned his last name, preferring to avoid the inevitable interest in his well-known, wealthy family. Brock had been down that road before, not realizing a woman he’d cared about had been after him only for the connections. The McNeill lifestyle. Or, more accurately, other McNeills’ lifestyle. Brock preferred hard work to jet-setting, no matter that his hotel magnate grandfather owned five-star resorts all over the world.
Hannah Ryder toyed with the long sleeve of her dark T-shirt, pulling it over one hand, but not before he spotted a silver ring in the shape of an eternity knot. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you earlier, but your entrance was very well timed.”
There was a slight husky quality to her voice that made the sound as warm and inviting as a whiskey shot. She was about a head shorter than him, maybe a little more. Dressed all in black with her hair tucked under the cap, she looked like she was trying to avoid recognition. Maybe movie people dressed that way all the time when they were off duty. She seemed about as far from his idea of a diva as possible.
“I regret that I didn’t intervene sooner, before my horse’s hoof landed on your hair.” He couldn’t act fast enough after that, knowing the animals were too restless to be trusted standing so close to her head. “You barely even winced.”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “But it was enough to ruin another shot. Whenever I let my guard down even a little bit, then it’s my fault the whole crew gets stuck on the set for an extra hour.”
“Is it always like this?” He realized her eyes were gray under the shadow of her cap’s brim.
She smelled good, too. Like soap and wildflowers. He caught the hint of fragrance as she played with the shirtsleeve, the fabric rubbing against her skin.
“Not at all. My job is usually pretty fun, but this film is making me see how much the director has to do with setting a production’s tone.”
Brock wanted to ask her more, but he guessed she must be tired after her long day.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I thought you were fantastic today.” He wasn’t overstating it, or flattering her. She was good. “In fact, it was because I was so caught up in watching your performance that I didn’t interrupt filming sooner.”
She laughed again, the sound another surprise shot of pure adrenaline.
“So I have no one to blame but myself for my hair getting stepped on? Are you saying that if I’d been a worse actress, you would have come to the rescue sooner?” Her gray eyes twinkled with mischief.
Teasing. Flirtation.
It wasn’t a game Brock had played often. Or well. But he damned well recognized it.
He let the new flames crackle through him, stunned that a total stranger could stir that level of heat. What was it about her? Hell, what was it about him that he was letting it draw him in?
“I’m saying, Hannah Ryder, that you’re not an easy woman to look away from.”
He heard the tone of his voice; it was all wrong for the moment. It brought the teasing and flirtation to a halt. The air around them changed. Got warmer.
He saw the confusion in her gaze. The surprise. A whole host of emotions flickered through her expression that he couldn’t identify.
But there was one that he knew. Because he felt it, too.
Desire.
It pulsed in the charged air like a heartbeat. For a moment, he thought she might take a step toward him. Until, outside the barn, his horse whinnied softly. Breaking the moment and the connection.
“I’d better go.” She tucked her chin into her chest and stalked past him. Out of the barn and into the night.
Brock watched her leave, knowing he shouldn’t follow. She’d made her decision. He respected that. He needed to check in with his family anyhow, see if their investigator had any updates on the blackmailer.
Taking a deep, cooling breath to ward off the lingering hunger for Hannah, he took his time stepping outside. Only to glimpse her outline in the moonlight.
With her back to him, he could see clearly the image that she’d pulled up on her phone.
A map of the ranch.
Walking directions back to her cabin.
Brock closed his eyes for a long moment, knowing he couldn’t let her make the long trek in the dark by herself. He would give his own sisters a hard time about navigating those woods on foot alone at night, and they’d been raised here, fully aware of what to look out for. How much did a West Coast visitor understand about the potential dangers of the Wyoming land?
Steeling himself against the inevitable draw of the woman, Brock stepped closer to make an offer that was going to be hell on his restraint.
“How about I give you a ride home?”
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