A Ranger For Christmas. Stella Bagwell
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this man thinking? Didn’t he realize she was several years older than him? Besides that, she was going to be his working partner for the next six months, not a sex object.
“Please call me Vivian,” she said, while purposely extricating her hand from his warm grip.
“Well, that’s better,” Mort said with approval. “I think—” Before he could finish, the phone on his desk rang. “Excuse me. This call is important. You two don’t need me to tell you what to do. Viv, show him around and get him acquainted with everything.”
Mort left them to go deal with the phone call and Vivian walked over to fetch her jacket and hat from a hall tree standing near the front entrance of the office.
As she started to jam her arm into the sleeve, Sawyer quickly came up behind her to assist her with the garment. As his hands smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, an odd flutter attacked the pit of her stomach.
None of her fellow rangers had ever done such a gentlemanly thing for her. To them she was no different just because she was a female. And that was the way she wanted it. Until this moment. Until Sawyer Whitehorse had walked through the door with his long, lean body and sinfully sexy grin. Something about this man treating her like a lady made her feel ridiculously special.
Get a grip, Viv. You haven’t had a man on your mind in years. You sure don’t need to let yourself start thinking about this one. He’s nothing but tall trouble.
“Thanks,” she murmured, then turned to face him. “Are you ready to head out, or is there anything you need to deal with here at headquarters first?”
“I’m ready. Just lead the way.”
When he’d first walked through the door, she’d thought his eyes were black like his hair. But now that she was up close, she could see they were the color of a rich coffee bean polished to a warm brown hue. The lashes surrounding them were thick and black and matched the brows that were presently arched with something very close to amusement.
Vivian levered her hat over her long, chestnut hair and tightened the stampede string beneath her chin. “I hope Mort told you that I rarely come back to headquarters for lunch. Mine and Louis’s section of the park is too far away to waste the time and gas. I hope you brought something with you.”
“It’s in my vehicle. I usually try to think ahead.”
He jammed his hat onto his head, then opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. As Vivian brushed past him, she caught the faint scent of soap and sage and some other spicy scent that was uniquely male. The fragrance evoked images of wild wilderness and making love next to a low-burning campfire.
Oh, my, where did that kind of erotic thought come from? And how was she possibly going to survive one day with Sawyer Whitehorse? Much less four to six months?
Shoving the questions aside, Vivian stepped through the doorway, while keenly aware of Sawyer following right behind her.
Outside, the sun was shining in a clear blue sky, but the north wind was crisp, even for December in Arizona. Vivian zipped the front of her jacket all the way to her throat as she walked briskly toward the SUV parked to the left of the building. Sitting next to it was a black Ford truck. Since she’d not seen the vehicle before, she could only assume it belonged to Sawyer.
“I’ll get my lunch and be right with you,” he said, his long stride easily keeping pace with her shorter one.
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll wait for you in the SUV.”
He veered off to collect his things from the truck and Vivian hurried on to take her place behind the steering wheel of the work vehicle. By the time Sawyer joined her, she already had the motor running and her seat belt snapped in place.
After placing his lunch bucket and a pair of leather gloves behind the seat, he paused to look at her. “Do you normally drive?”
She stared at him. “What kind of question is that?”
He grinned and the sight of all those straight white teeth gleaming against his dark skin made her breathing go haywire. She wasn’t sure whether she needed to pull in a lungful of oxygen or blow it out.
He said, “From the indignant look on your face, you think it’s a sexist one.”
“No! I mean, that isn’t what I’m thinking,” she told him. “I—Actually, I’m thinking now—before we get started—would be a good time for us to have a talk.”
He settled back in the seat and folded his arms comfortably against his chest. Vivian tried not to notice the way his biceps strained the sleeves of his jacket, or the empty ring finger on his left hand.
You really didn’t expect the man to be married, did you, Vivian? He has the look of a wild mustang stamped all over him.
“Okay, Vivian. Talk on. I have as much time as you do.”
He made her name sound like sweet cream dripping over a ripe strawberry. Which made it even more impossible to gather her jangled senses.
“All right,” she said, then, resisting the urge to lick her lips, she searched for the right place to start. “Like I said back in Mort’s office, I didn’t know you’d be coming today. Or any day, for that matter. This whole notion of me getting a new partner has thrown me. I was expecting to be going it alone.”
His brown eyes were roaming her face, yet Vivian purposely avoided locking gazes with him. Instead, she focused on the faint curve of his lower lip and the tiny cleft denting the bottom of his chin. He’d clearly shaved this morning. His bronze skin was smooth without the hint of a whisker and Vivian couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to rub her cheek against his.
“Is that what you wanted?” he asked. “To work alone?”
She cleared her throat and tried to gather her thoughts. “Not exactly. You see, Louis believed his leg was only slightly cracked and he’d most likely be back on the job in two or three weeks. Learning to work with someone new takes time and—”
“Patience,” he finished for her.
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s the right word for it. And I thought handling things on my own would be easier.”
“Have you had many partners since you became a ranger?” he asked.
“Only Louis. What about you?”
“Three. The first one retired. The second one moved to the northern part of the state. And now I have you.”
The way he said you very nearly made Vivian shiver. She reached for the knob that adjusted the heater and turned it up a notch. “I see. So how long have you been a ranger?”
“Nine years,” he answered. “I became a ranger right after I turned twenty.”
She’d guessed him to be in his late twenties and she’d guessed right. And though his age really had nothing to do with anything, it made her feel ridiculously old.
“There’s a tiny crease marring your forehead,” he said. “What’s the matter? Is there anything wrong with me being twenty-nine?”
“No. It’s just that you’re very young.” Compared to me, she almost added.
He studied her for a long moment before he finally asked, “How long have you been a ranger?”
“Nine years for me, too. Only I didn’t start as young as you. I’m thirty-five.”
He shrugged as though her age was insignificant and she supposed, to him, it was.
“You didn’t have to tell me your age,” he said, then flashed her a grin that was far too provocative. “But if it makes you feel any better you look a lot younger.”
She stared at him in disbelief while the urge to curse and laugh fought a duel inside her. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”