Wyoming Wife?. Shawna Delacorte
Читать онлайн книгу.
for her. In spite of all her careful planning, she’d had the feeling that something was wrong. What bothered her the most was that she did not feel as upset about that possibility as she should have. She had refused to deal with the fact that perhaps she did not love Jerry, at least not enough to sustain a marriage commitment.
Her trip to Denver was as much to clarify her own feelings as to see Jerry. He continually chided her about being too structured and compulsive, about having to plan out every facet of her life. She had eagerly anticipated his look of surprise followed by exclamations of pleasure at her impulsive decision to make the trip.
The image of what had really occurred came rushing back to her. The shocked expression that had covered Jerry’s face when he opened his front door had not been one of pleasure. His dark hair was bedroom tousled and he wore a hastily thrown-on robe. He had stammered awkwardly while blocking her entrance to the house. Then she had seen the reason why. The woman who had casually strolled out of his bedroom was dressed in one of his T-shirts. It was barely long enough to reach her upper thighs and she obviously had nothing on underneath it.
Samantha had seen the guilt in his eyes, but his embarrassment had clearly come from having been caught, rather than any regrets about his actions. She had turned and walked away, and Jerry Kensington had made no attempt to stop her. She had never in her life felt as betrayed as she had at that moment...or as alone.
That was two days ago. Since then she had driven aimlessly through Colorado and into Wyoming until she had become stranded in the middle of nowhere, plucked out of a snowstorm by a stranger in a helicopter and whisked away to a ranch. She had no idea where she was, other than somewhere in Wyoming. Her life had always been so organized, structured and carefully controlled. She had no practical experience dealing with turmoil or unplanned events.
She also had no practical experience with the way Jace made her feel. The physical side of her relationship with Jerry Kensington had been carefully planned, too...just the type of predictability she thought she had wanted. But it was also dull. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she had wished he would just once do something exciting to surprise her. She knew that was an absolute contradiction to everything she had professed to want out of life, but she couldn’t stop the thought.
She carefully took in her current surroundings. It was a large, comfortable room that gave the impression of many happy family gatherings over the years. She felt a moment of sadness. Happy family gatherings had not been part of her childhood. And now, after that disastrous and humiliating scene with her fiancé—she corrected herself: Jerry Kensington was now her exfiancé—it did not look as though they would be part of her future, either.
She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders as she forced a new determination. It was obvious that being in a relationship—marriage and a family—was not to be. She would throw herself into her career and concentrate on being a success in the business world. It would guarantee her a comfortable future. That should be enough. Being stuck at this ranch was only a minor interruption of her plan. She would make the best of it for the short duration of her stay, then return to Los Angeles as soon as the weather cleared.
A cold blast of air whipped in as Jace came through the front door. He stomped his boots on the floor mat to knock away the snow, pulled off his gloves and removed his heavy jacket. Then his gaze fell on the mystery lady. There was something very appealing about the way the large robe enclosed her body—and very enticing. He cleared his mind of the inappropriate thoughts and crossed the room to the fireplace. “Did you find everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you.” She turned up the collar of the robe, then nervously tugged at the sash, pulling it tighter around her waist. “I sure appreciate the use of this robe.” His nearness sent little tingles across her bare skin and a flush of heat across her cheeks. She lowered her gaze to the floor, too embarrassed to meet the silvery shimmer of his eyes any longer. She tried to calm the nervous excitement that welled inside her.
“The robe belongs to Helen. I’ll pass on your appreciation.” He could not stop the surge of desire that rushed through him.
Her voice quavered slightly, attesting to a nervousness. “Helen? Who is she?”
He paid an undue amount of attention to the fire in an effort to dismiss the very real physical allure that continued to tug at his consciousness. “Helen Downey. She’s the housekeeper and cook. Her son, Ben, is my ranch foreman.”
Samantha looked around, searching for the owner of the robe. “Is she here? I’d like to thank her for the considerate gesture.”
“Nope. Helen’s in Florida visiting her daughter.” Jace stared at his houseguest for an uncomfortable moment. She smelled of soap and radiated a scrubbed freshness. She stood about five foot six. Her short, chestnut-colored hair feathered softly around her face, accentuating her delicate features. Her neatly pedicured toes peeked out from beneath the long robe.
Another hard jolt of desire stabbed at his insides, then reverberated through his body. He did not even know her name. He had not asked, and she had not volunteered the information. It made the whole thing seem strangely exciting, almost like some sort of clandestine rendezvous designed strictly for lascivious pleasure without any strings or emotional attachments.
His disconcerting stare caused little tremors to form inside her body. She took a calming breath and tried her best to project a businesslike outer persona while attempting to regain control of the situation. “I’m afraid we sort of got off on the wrong foot. I’ve been very inconsiderate in not introducing myself. My name is Samantha Burkett and I’m from Los Angeles.” She held out her hand toward him. “And you said you’re Jace Tremayne?” The moment their hands clasped together she felt the outdoors cold that lingered on his skin. But underneath that exterior was a very human warmth that radiated a soft glow and sent a sensual little tingle up her arm.
“Tremayne...” He had not released her hand from his grasp nor had she withdrawn it. “I remember seeing a large gated entrance with the name Tremayne above it, and I think Tremayne Road was where I had turned just before skidding into that snowdrift. Is that you?”
“That was my great-great-grandfather. He settled on this land and started the ranch shortly after the Union Pacific Railroad was established here, several years before Wyoming was even a state. The ranch’s primary business has always been the raising of beef cattle, but my father expanded into other areas when he granted some mining leases on the northern acreage about twenty-five years ago.”
“I’ve always lived in a large city, and I don’t really know anything about ranching. In fact, I’ve never even been on a ranch before, or a farm, either. It would seem to me to be an isolated type of lifestyle. How far are you from a real city?”
The warmth lingered even after he withdrew his hand, but the soft glow quickly disappeared as his eyes narrowed before he responded to her question. “A real city? As opposed to what? Oh, yes. You’re from Los Angeles...obviously a real city. However, your car had Colorado license plates.”
She caught the edge of sarcasm in his voice. His statement sounded more like an accusation than a comment. “It’s a rental from the Denver airport. I picked it up a couple of days ago.”
Jace cocked his head, a quizzical expression spreading across his face. “You flew from Los Angeles to Denver, rented a car and then drove out into a snowstorm dressed in a silk suit? Do you always set out on such harebrained and foolhardy escapades?”
He may have been a momentary knight in shining armor whose charging white steed was realty a helicopter, but that did not give him the right to pry into her personal life. She made no effort to hide her irritation. “I’m not an irrational person, and I’ve never done an impulsive thing in my—” Well, she couldn’t say that anymore. It was her one and only impulsive action that had gotten her into this mess.
She nervously played with the gold chain around her neck. “I’m a professional businesswoman and am accustomed to dressing in a businesslike manner.”
The hint of sarcasm she had noticed earlier in his voice had intensified. “Oh? And just what is it you do in that