The Rancher's Daughter. Jodi O'Donnell
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sounds like the ranch I want to have for disadvantaged children.” Maura shifted to look up at him, and the movement brushed her breast against his ribs. He had to concentrate with all his might to temper his physical response. “I want them to learn about the land, how to think of the world beyond themselves.”
He didn’t want to put a damper on her enthusiasm, especially when it seemed he might have been able to turn her attitude about him a notch toward the positive, but he felt compelled to be honest with her. “It may be hard to do that, though, when their world is filled to the brim with worries about survival—where the next meal’s coming from, how they’ll stay warm at night. How they can ever feel safe and secure.”
He touched two fingers to her lips, forestalling her protest. “I’m not tryin’ to discourage you from following your dream, Maura. It’s just that some kids struggle with a lot of problems that have to be addressed before they can even begin to think of others.”
I know that from experience, he thought but didn’t say. That definitely was a subject for a whole different time.
Yet Maura must have gleaned enough information from his advice to guess. Gently she pulled his hand away. “It must be a terrible, terrible thing to feel there’s no one in the world you can count on. And I know that I don’t have that kind of experience to help me relate to kids like that, Ash.”
She lifted her arm and, in a move that shocked him with its intimacy and power, she placed her palm on the side of his face, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. “But I do know what it is like to feel safe…as safe as I feel in your arms right now, as if nothing can hurt me as long as I’m here. It’s a wonderful feeling to give someone, too, even if you haven’t felt it yourself.”
It floored him—that she felt safe with him. Secure. Despite everything.
“You don’t even know me, Maura,” Ash felt duty bound to warn her. “You don’t know.”
“Oh, I think I do. What I don’t understand is why you want people to believe the worst about you. Because I won’t. I won’t believe you’re not a hopeful person, too. You wouldn’t have dreams if you weren’t hopeful.”
Ash couldn’t speak. The air in the cave was filled with emotion, ripe with desire. Even in the indirect light from his headlamp, her eyes were the clearest, purest blue, the expression in them heartbreakingly untouched. He would have given anything, anything to assure her she was right. And at that moment he almost felt he could assure her that he’d make his dream come true. Make her dream come true.
He didn’t know how he might make it happen for her, make it happen for them both. But it just might be possible—if they did it together.
“I can’t say as I completely buy your reasoning, but you make a pretty convincing argument, powder puff,” he said roughly.
She frowned engagingly. Adorably. Her lower lip pouted, and he knew just what he wanted to do with it. With her.
“Apparently I haven’t convinced you how singularly unappealing I find that nickname to be,” she said in that oh-so-proper manner he’d witnessed earlier that evening. He wondered where she’d picked it up, being as how she was as elemental as the fire outside.
“Really,” Ash drawled. “’Cause I find it—and you—smack dab the opposite.”
And he lowered his head to take her mouth with his.
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