A Cowboy in Manhattan. Barbara Dunlop
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a fashion-design house.”
“No kidding,” he drawled.
“It’s just—”
“We do have satellite television out here.”
“And you use it to watch fashion shows?”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “But they make the occasional pop-culture reference during professional bull-riding.”
“Did I insult you?” she asked, looking genuinely regretful.
“I’m not living under a rock, Katrina.”
“I never thought you were.”
He swung his leg over the wide seat of the ATV. He wasn’t insulted. He couldn’t care less what she thought of his television-watching habits.
Truth was, he didn’t know why she’d struck a nerve. Maybe it was because she pointed out the vast differences between them, and how far she was out of his league. Not that it mattered, he ruthlessly reminded himself. No matter how sexy Miss Katrina Jacobs might appear, he was keeping his hands and his thoughts to himself. His life was complicated enough.
“Hop on,” he told her gruffly, sliding forward to give her room on the seat behind.
She approached the ATV with caution, obviously sizing it up.
“You need some help?”
“No,” she flashed.
“Hand on my shoulder,” he instructed.
After a long hesitation, she touched him tentatively.
“Other hand.”
“Sorry.”
“Left foot on that peg.”
“Okay.”
He captured her forearm to steady her. “Step up and swing your leg over the seat. Grab my other shoulder if you need to.”
She did. Her slight weight rocked the ATV, and her butt came down on the seat, her breasts brushing his back and her thighs coming up against his.
She sucked in a breath.
“You’re going to have to hang on to me,” he warned.
“I know.”
He turned the key, and the ATV rumbled to life.
“Katrina?” he intoned, waiting for her to follow his instructions.
“My hands are filthy.”
“I can take it.” He reached back and grasped each of her wrists, wrapping her slim arms around his waist and anchoring her hands to his bare stomach.
Her breasts pressed tighter against his back, her cheek rested between his shoulder blades, while her inner thighs cradled his hips. Raw, painful desire rocketed through him, and he wondered how long he could reasonably take to drive back to the house. He wanted her to stay wrapped around his body for hours and hours.
In the shower on the second floor of the Terrells’ house, Katrina’s skin still tingled where she’d been pressed up against Reed’s body—which was pretty much everywhere, from the inside of her knees to the hairline above her temple. The ATV had rumbled between her legs, while the heat from Reed’s bare back had seeped its way through his shirt, her T-shirt and right through her bra.
Mandy had brought along a change of clothes for Katrina. In fact, she’d brought along Katrina’s entire suitcase. She’d drawn Katrina aside and confessed she was plotting to have them spend the night at the Terrells’, so she could be with Caleb. Katrina had easily agreed to stay. Away from her family’s ranch was good for her state of mind. And it was less emotionally draining to be here with Mandy than interacting with all of her siblings. Caleb had been warmly receptive to the plan. Reed was best described as neutral.
Now, Katrina pulled back the blue-and-green-striped shower curtain and carefully climbed out of the deep tub. The bathroom was neat but compact, with little counter room around the sink and only a couple of spots for hanging clothes and towels on the back of the door. While she dried off and wrapped a white towel around her wet hair, she realized the error in her planning.
Her sweaty clothes were in a heap on top of the hamper, while her fresh clothes were still folded in her suitcase in the guest room. She was going to have to cross the hallway wrapped in nothing but a towel. There wasn’t even a robe she could borrow hanging anywhere in the bathroom.
Resigned, she wrapped the biggest towel firmly around her body, tucking in the ends between her breasts. She rubbed a spot in the steamed mirror, turning and coming up on her toes to make sure the towel covered the necessities, just in case she met someone on the way. Then she gathered her wrinkled exercise outfit and her underwear, rolling them into a neat ball before cracking the bathroom door to make sure the hallway was all clear.
She listened carefully but couldn’t hear a sound. The guestroom door was about ten feet down the hallway in the opposite direction of the stairs. It was open, and it would only take her about five seconds to make it there.
She took a breath, opened the bathroom door wide, listened one last time, then scampered across the hardwood floor, scooting safely into the guest room, quickly closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes with a heartfelt sigh, and leaned solidly up against the door.
“Katrina?” Reed’s voice made her eyes fly open.
She gave a little shriek. The towel slipped, revealing her breasts for a brief moment until she grasped the corners, struggling to form a coherent word. “Wha—”
“Sorry.” He quickly averted his gaze. “Mandy asked me to bring you some fresh sheets.”
“I …” She could feel her face flush hot. The rest of her body flushed, too. Desire zipped from one extremity to the other, settling in a slow burn at the base of her abdomen.
She swallowed. She had to say something. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be.
Reed moved toward her, keeping his gaze studiously on the floor in front of him. “I’ll get out of your way.”
She told herself to move, unblock the door so the man could leave already. But her feet were glued to the floor, her heart pumping deep and slow inside her chest.
He came closer and closer, and all she could do was stare.
A knock on the door behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin.
“Katrina?” Mandy called. “You in there?”
The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit her. And Katrina recovered her sense of humor. What was she expecting Reed to do here? Make a move with Mandy and Caleb downstairs? Ridiculous. She quickly found her voice.
“I’m naked in here,” she called out to Mandy. “And Reed’s remaking the bed.”
There was a stunned silence on the other side of the door.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Reed intoned. “Get out of the way.”
Mandy stammered from outside. “I’m … Uh …”
Reed snagged Katrina’s bare shoulder, moving her off to one side. His warm, callused palm left a distinct tingle in its wake. He quickly swung the door open.
“Mix-up,” he told Mandy. “Your sister thinks she’s funny.”
“He was lying in wait for me,” Katrina countered, still feeling breathless.
“I thought you’d take longer in the shower,” Reed protested.
“Why? Because I’m from New York City?”
“Because you’re a girl.”
“I’m a woman.”
Mandy’s attention was flying back and forth between