Heartbreak Ranch by Kylie Brant Page B

and velocity. She smiled smugly and reached for her lipstick. It would serve Jed right if she decided to make him teach her.
    The thought was cheering. She wondered if he’d ever recovered from the trauma of teaching her to drive. He’d been a stick-in-the-mud even then, she remembered, insisting she drive around in an old four-door sedan tank until he deemed her ready for something with a little more zip. If he’d had his way, she’d still be driving that old Ford, but Harley had taken the decision out of his hands. He’d called home, flush after a gambling venture, and had acceded to Julianne’s demands for a little red sports car. Despite Jed’s dire warnings, she’d never once managed to wrap it around a tree or roll it into a ditch. Although she’d collected more than her share of speeding tickets, he’d been a good instructor. She’d never had an accident.
    She finished with her makeup and rose to get the dress she’d chosen for this evening. Untying her robe and letting it drop to the floor, she carefully stepped into the royal blue sequined dress. She twisted her arms nearly out of their sockets trying to raise the back zipper. Slipping into her shoes, she went back to the mirror, turning this way and that to check her appearance. The strapless dress might have been a little chancy, given the hotel’s penchant for icy air-conditioning, but she was counting on the crush of the crowd to keep the temperature comfortable.
    A knock sounded at the door. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dresser, she smiled. If nothing else, Jed wasalways prompt. She opened the door and, for a moment, just stood there, staring.
    â€œWell?” he growled, shifting uncomfortably under her silent scrutiny. “Are you going to let me in?”
    She stood back silently and let him enter the room, afraid if she opened her mouth she’d trip over her tongue.
    He looked…magnificent. She’d always thought denim suited him; a perfect package for rugged angles and hard muscle. She’d forgotten what an impact he made dressed up. The dark, discreetly pin-striped suit jacket seemed to stretch across acres of shoulders, and the light-colored dress shirt made his tan seem darker. She tried to remember the last time she’d seen him in a tie, and then decided it had been at her high school graduation. The one he’d attended, and then afterward held her while she cried out her disappointment over Harley missing it, despite his vows to be there.
    She took a deep breath and resisted the urge to press a palm to her jittery stomach.
    He was watching her intently, and being the focus of that fierce regard was doing nothing to calm her pulse. His words, when they came, were low and rough, and sent a fast skitter up her spine. “You look good, Buchanan.”
    His simple words sent an absurd sense of pleasure shimmering over each and every one of her nerve endings. She forced the air back through her lungs. “I’ve always admired your way with words, ace.” Turning away, she picked up her purse and headed to the door, concentrating on walking steadily.
    He followed her into the hallway, his long strides easily catching up to hers. She entered the elevator ahead of him, sidling to the corner to put some space between his large body and her own.
    â€œYou never told me what the program was for tonight. Will people come by to kiss your ring?”
    â€œVery funny.”
    The tinge of irritation in his voice made her smile come a little more naturally, and her lungs eased. Maybe she wasn’t suffocating, after all. “Sorry. That’s the pope, isn’t it? Exactly what is proper protocol for addressing the head of the Cattlemen’s Association?”
    He ignored her banter and said, “The hospitality hour started a few minutes ago. We’ll eat at six, there will be a short presentation, and the band begins playing at eight.”
    The light