A Cowboy Comes Home by Barbara Dunlop

forward.
    He’d known it would be good, guessed she would taste like ambrosia, but nothing had prepared him for the rush of raw lust that made his arms wrap around her and his entire body harden to steel.
    He opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. She whimpered in surrender, giving him access, her small tongue parrying with his, while his broad palm stroked its way from her waist to her hip, to the curve at the side of her breast.
    He shifted his body, pulling her into his lap, never breaking the kiss as her soft, pert behind settled against him. He raked the satin of her hair out of the way, his fingertips convulsing against her scalp. Her small hands clung to his shoulders, hanging on tight, while her rounded breasts pressed erotically against his chest.
    He wanted to rip off her clothes, push her back on the seat, or down on the floor, and ravage her body until neither of them could see straight. He knew he couldn’t do that, knew he was losing control, knew he had to drag them back to reality before their passion got completely out of control.
    But then her hot hands slid the length of his chest, and he put sanity on hold. She freed the buttons of his cotton shirt, her palms searing into his bare skin.
    His hand closed over her breast, feeling its weight through the fabric of her shirt and the lace of her bra. He kissed her harder, deeper, settling her more firmly on the heat of his need. Her kisses trailed to his chest, over his pecs, across one flat nipple, and he groaned in reaction.
    “We can’t,” he whispered harshly, even as he buried his face in her fragrant hair and prayed she’d keep going.
    She stilled, her breath cooling a damp spot on his bare skin.
    They were both silent for a long moment, while Caleb tried unsuccessfully to bring his emotions under control.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered, lips grazing his skin.
    “Are you kidding me?” he breathed. He forced himself to draw back, tipping up her chin and gazing into her passion-clouded eyes. “I have never—”
    The cell phone in her jeans pocket buzzed, startling them both.
    “—ever,” he continued, trying to hold her gaze, reluctant to let the moment go.
    The cell phone buzzed again.
    “Fortuitous?” she asked, seeming to regain her equilibrium.
    “Not the word I would have used.” He sighed.
    She shifted off his lap, slipping her hand into her jeans pocket to retrieve the cell phone.
    “Abigail,” she announced while she pressed the talk button. “Hey, Abby.”
    Caleb couldn’t believe she could sound so normal. He sure wasn’t that capable of turning on a dime like that. Desire was still pulsing its way through his extremities. It was going to be long minutes before he would be able to do anything more than breathe.
    “When?” Mandy asked into the phone, her voice going guttural.
    Her gaze locked on to Caleb’s, fear shooting through her irises. “I don’t—”
    She swayed on her feet, and he instantly leaped to his, holding her steady.
    “Where?” she asked hoarsely, bracing herself by grasping his arm. “Yes. Of course.” She nodded reflexively. “Yes.”
    She was silent for another moment, her hand squeezing his arm in a vice grip. “Right now,” she told her sister. “I’ll be there. Bye.” Her tone was whispered as she lowered the phone.
    “What?” Caleb prompted, his stomach clenching hard. Something had obviously gone terribly wrong.
    “My dad,” she managed, blinking back twin pools of gathering tears. “They think it was a stroke.”
    “Is he…” Caleb couldn’t finish the sentence.
    “The medical airlift is on its way.”
    “How bad?”
    “Numbness, speech problems, confusion.” She broke away from Caleb’s hold. “I have to get home.”
    “I’ll drive you.”
    “No, I can—”
    “I’ll drive you.” There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting her speed down the dark, dirt ranch road all alone.

Four
    A ll the lights were blazing when Mandy and Caleb drove up to the ranch house.