their softness against her own.
“Katrina.” His voice was strained.
She wanted him to kiss her, desperately wanted to feel those hot lips come down on hers, his hard body press her back into the hay, his magic hands wrap around her waist, along her back, over her buttocks, down her thighs. She just knew he would take her to paradise.
“The herbal wrap,” he said.
She blinked. “Huh?”
He eased away from her. “I should put it on your ankle now, while your muscles are warmed up.”
“But…” No. That wasn’t how this was supposed to end.
“It’ll help,” he assured her.
“Reed?”
He straightened, no longer looking at her, his voice growing more distant. “I know you’re not a horse. But trust me. The principle really is the same.”
She didn’t doubt it was. But that wasn’t her problem. Her problem was that she was powerfully, ridiculously, sexually attracted to Reed Terrell, and it didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon.
Four
R eed swung the eight-pound sledgehammer over his head, bringing it down on the wooden stake with a satisfying thump. He drove it halfway into the meadow grass, then hit it once more, anchoring it firmly into the ground. He took a step back and set down the hammer. Then he consulted his house plans, lined up the electronic transit to position the next stake before repeating the process.
An hour later, as the sun climbed across the morning sky, he stripped down to his T-shirt, tossed it aside and shaded his eyes to gaze across the flat meadow that overlooked Flash Lake into the foothills and far across to the Rockies.
He’d known for years that this would be the perfect spot. Milestone Brook babbled fifty feet from where he’d build his deck. He already knew he’d put in a footbridge, teach his sons to fish for rainbow trout and build a picnic table on the opposite side of the bridge so his family could spend Saturday afternoons eating hamburgers, playing horseshoes or badminton.
He could picture the living room. He could picture the view. He could picture six kids racing around in the yard. He could even picture his future wife chasing down a toddler. She’d be beautiful in blue jeans and boots, a cotton shirt and a Stetson.
In his mind’s eye, she turned and smiled. And he realized it was Katrina.
Reed felt as if he’d been sucker-punched.
He shook his head to clear it. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. He’d come up here today to get away from Katrina. His burgeoning attraction to her reminded him that it was past time to get going on the rest of his life. And the rest of his life sure didn’t include a tiny, blond-haired, blue-eyed ballerina.
“Reed?” Her voice startled him, and he spun around to see her crossing the meadow toward him.
She moved steadily closer. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore tiny diamond earrings that sparkled in the sunshine. Designer jeans clung to her hips, while a deep purple cap-sleeved T-shirt molded to her breasts, nipping in at her waist, ending just above her low waistband. Even without makeup, her lashes were thick and dark, her lips deep red, and her cheeks soft pink.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, glancing around at his work.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking.” She came to a halt a few feet away. “It’s a low-impact exercise.”
“I thought you were biking for that.”
“Variety,” she answered, tipping her head to one side.
He fought an urge to take a single step forward, cup her face, and drink in a deep kiss. But somehow, it seemed sacrilegious, as if he was cheating on his future wife.
She peered pointedly around. “A building site?”
“I’m staking out the foundation,” he admitted. “For my house.”
“Seriously?” She shaded her eyes to scan his work. “You’re building a house up here?”
“No. I’m building a secret military installation, with a formal dining room and a view of the lake.”
She gave an eye-roll and paced her way
“Katrina.” His voice was strained.
She wanted him to kiss her, desperately wanted to feel those hot lips come down on hers, his hard body press her back into the hay, his magic hands wrap around her waist, along her back, over her buttocks, down her thighs. She just knew he would take her to paradise.
“The herbal wrap,” he said.
She blinked. “Huh?”
He eased away from her. “I should put it on your ankle now, while your muscles are warmed up.”
“But…” No. That wasn’t how this was supposed to end.
“It’ll help,” he assured her.
“Reed?”
He straightened, no longer looking at her, his voice growing more distant. “I know you’re not a horse. But trust me. The principle really is the same.”
She didn’t doubt it was. But that wasn’t her problem. Her problem was that she was powerfully, ridiculously, sexually attracted to Reed Terrell, and it didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon.
Four
R eed swung the eight-pound sledgehammer over his head, bringing it down on the wooden stake with a satisfying thump. He drove it halfway into the meadow grass, then hit it once more, anchoring it firmly into the ground. He took a step back and set down the hammer. Then he consulted his house plans, lined up the electronic transit to position the next stake before repeating the process.
An hour later, as the sun climbed across the morning sky, he stripped down to his T-shirt, tossed it aside and shaded his eyes to gaze across the flat meadow that overlooked Flash Lake into the foothills and far across to the Rockies.
He’d known for years that this would be the perfect spot. Milestone Brook babbled fifty feet from where he’d build his deck. He already knew he’d put in a footbridge, teach his sons to fish for rainbow trout and build a picnic table on the opposite side of the bridge so his family could spend Saturday afternoons eating hamburgers, playing horseshoes or badminton.
He could picture the living room. He could picture the view. He could picture six kids racing around in the yard. He could even picture his future wife chasing down a toddler. She’d be beautiful in blue jeans and boots, a cotton shirt and a Stetson.
In his mind’s eye, she turned and smiled. And he realized it was Katrina.
Reed felt as if he’d been sucker-punched.
He shook his head to clear it. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. He’d come up here today to get away from Katrina. His burgeoning attraction to her reminded him that it was past time to get going on the rest of his life. And the rest of his life sure didn’t include a tiny, blond-haired, blue-eyed ballerina.
“Reed?” Her voice startled him, and he spun around to see her crossing the meadow toward him.
She moved steadily closer. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore tiny diamond earrings that sparkled in the sunshine. Designer jeans clung to her hips, while a deep purple cap-sleeved T-shirt molded to her breasts, nipping in at her waist, ending just above her low waistband. Even without makeup, her lashes were thick and dark, her lips deep red, and her cheeks soft pink.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, glancing around at his work.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking.” She came to a halt a few feet away. “It’s a low-impact exercise.”
“I thought you were biking for that.”
“Variety,” she answered, tipping her head to one side.
He fought an urge to take a single step forward, cup her face, and drink in a deep kiss. But somehow, it seemed sacrilegious, as if he was cheating on his future wife.
She peered pointedly around. “A building site?”
“I’m staking out the foundation,” he admitted. “For my house.”
“Seriously?” She shaded her eyes to scan his work. “You’re building a house up here?”
“No. I’m building a secret military installation, with a formal dining room and a view of the lake.”
She gave an eye-roll and paced her way
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