Wyoming Wife?. Shawna Delacorte
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thought you just said you were lost and trying to find your way back to the main highway.” Again the smug look covered his features. “I guess I must have misunderstood you. So, just where were you headed when your superb sense of direction put you on a country road and buried you in the snow?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she should not have said them. They sounded too harsh, too defensive. They also sounded downright rude and very ungrateful. After all, she had been stranded on a back road and stuck in the snow. She should be thanking him for saving her, not being antagonistic.
She glanced down at the floor, took a calming breath, then recaptured his gaze. “Look...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. This whole thing has been a very unnerving experience for me. I’m not accustomed to dealing with chaos and disorder. I don’t like being forced into making snap decisions. I prefer to have things carefully planned out. I had been visiting...uh...a friend and...well, things didn’t—”
She felt the shiver across her nape. Again she was certain that it had nothing to do with being wet and cold. Everything about this Jace Tremayne—his words, his decisive actions, even his body language—said he was a very dynamic man. Overbearing, arrogant and chauvinistic, but very dynamic. He also radiated a tantalizing sex appeal that he did not seem to even be aware of.
His attitude softened a little bit. “Do you need to call anyone to let them know you’re all right? Any family members who might be worried?” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “The friend you were visiting... or perhaps your husband?”
A couple of days ago she would have called Jerry Kensington. But now... “No, there’s no one I need to call.” She tried to shake away the sudden feeling of despair that threatened to overwhelm her. She looked up at him. Once again his silver eyes seemed to be attempting to penetrate through to her inner soul. She glanced down at the floor, unable to hold his gaze any longer for fear he could read her every thought and feeling.
He pointed down the hallway, once again indicating the guest room. “The second door on the right.”
Samantha opened her mouth to speak, but his actions stopped her words when he turned and walked out the front door. Just what had she gotten herself into? She certainly had not made any provisions for this strange turn of events when she had originally formulated her travel plans. A cold shiver darted through her body, reminding her of her wet clothes and need of a hot bath.
She carried the robe with her as she headed toward the guest room, pausing for a moment to look out a window. Large snowflakes filled the air and the wind had picked up considerably. She saw Jace disappear across the yard toward the barn. She pursed her lips, and a slight frown wrinkled across her brow as she turned away from the window. He had certainly pulled her out of a very precarious situation, but had he deposited her into an even more perilous one?
She was acutely aware of the totally out-of-character thoughts and feelings he stirred in her. She found him aggravating, he and his snap decisions made without benefit of proper thought and planning. But there was more, much more. She was far from being a prude, but the way he made her insides quiver with excitement was something beyond her logical reasoning. She had certainly never experienced that same type of excitement with Jerry Kensington. She glanced out the window again.
The whole idea was preposterous. Jace Tremayne was in no way representative of what her ideal man should be: a professional man; someone who carefully scheduled his activities; someone whose life was planned out and knew what he would be doing five years from now; someone who thrived on the stimulation provided by city life. In short, nothing like what she had observed of Jace Tremayne.
While his unexpected guest thawed out, Jace had several duties to handle. So why was he standing in the barn staring back at the house and making no effort to move? He did not know where this woman had come from or why she had been out on the road. He did not even know her name.
He did know that she was argumentative, stubborn and overly opinionated. He also knew she was hiding something. He could see it in her eyes, in the way certain things made her nervous. She was a strong and assertive woman, yet he sensed a vulnerability—a carefully hidden side that she tried not to show. He was also aware that she possessed the very real ability to slice right through to the center of his most heated desires, seemingly without even being aware of it. The realization left him decidedly unnerved.
He relaxed his tensed nerves and allowed a slight grin to tug at the corners of his mouth. Her angry accusation about him being a chauvinist, who thought a woman’s place was cooking and cleaning, amused him. His wife had been a creative, independent woman. They had met when she’d marched up to his front door and informed him that she was researching a book about the history of Wyoming and it would not be complete without information about his family, since they figured prominently. He’d told her there was plenty of information in the University library, but she had refused to take no for an answer.
Her death had hit him very hard. His own life had been so empty for the past four years. Work had kept him busy, but it hadn’t erased the hollow feeling that had lived inside him from the day his wife of only two years died of injuries incurred in an automobile accident. She had been three months pregnant with their first child. To compensate for the loss, he’d thrown himself into the needs of the ranch, putting in long hard hours. His unceasing efforts had paid off with material rewards, but his deepest emotions had remained locked away where they could not be trampled on again.
Then one stormy day this woman appeared from out of nowhere and intruded into his life. Even though their meeting was abrupt, the circumstances unusual and their contact best described as adversarial, she had certainly managed to arouse his long-dormant libido. For the first time in four years he felt a strong physical attraction to a woman—a woman he knew was totally wrong for him.
He allowed a slight furrow of his brow as he glanced down at the ground. It bothered him that she did not have anyone to call, that there was no one who would be worried about her. The hurt that had shown in her eyes also bothered him. Perhaps she, too, had suffered a very personal tragedy in her life, just as he had.
“The copter’s tied down. Should be okay.”
Jace shifted his attention to the medium-sized man in his early forties who had just come in the side door of the barn. Ben Downey was his ranch foreman. Jace was thankful for the interruption that put a halt to his thoughts about his very attractive houseguest, the ones that were starting to turn decidedly personal. “Good...thanks. Why don’t you check here in the barn to make sure everything is securely fastened, and I’ll make another pass through the stables. Have one of the boys pile extra firewood in the bins at the bunkhouse and ranch house. Have Vince check the emergency generator, make sure it’s ready to go on-line. It could be days before this storm clears. If it’s bad enough, the power lines could snap again like they did three years ago.”
Samantha emerged from the guest room an hour later, half that time having been spent soaking in a hot bath and trying her best not to think about the sensual thrill that tingled through her body whenever Jace Tremayne drew close to her. She had to keep telling herself that she would be leaving his ranch very soon, and the physical excitement he stirred in her would thankfully be put to rest.
She snuggled inside the bathrobe he had given her, having left her damp clothes hanging in the bathroom to finish drying. The robe belonged to a woman, but was at least three sizes too large for her. The texture of the terry cloth against her bare skin heightened her awareness of her nudity beneath the robe. She tightened the sash around her waist, then padded barefoot down the carpeted hallway to the living room seeking out the added warmth of the fireplace.
It was the first time she had relaxed since getting off the plane in Denver and driving to her fiancé’s house. She had been engaged to Jerry Kensington for almost a year, even though they lived a thousand miles apart. She had insisted on a two-year engagement. She believed that was the sensible and logical thing to do. It would give them a proper amount of time to discover any possible difficulties in their relationship,