please, just don’t expect to sleep in the house.” Her cheeks were pink.
“Well, now, you make it sound mighty appealing. I think that a barn is just the right place to have a friendly toss in the hay, but it’s no fun alone.” He stood and curled his thumbs around his belt loops. “Care to join me?”
She marched to the fireplace, her sweet ass jiggling a tad beneath her robe. If anyone had ever asked him, he’d have said he was an ass man. Breasts were nice, hell, every man liked breasts, but he rarely focused on them. He enjoyed watching a woman walk away from him in her nightclothes, her ass twitching and wiggling ever so slightly, just as Miss Julia’s was now. It was like an open invitation to touch. Well, he thought, his mouth twisting with scorn, maybe not this time, and not with this woman.
She yanked his jacket off the hook and threw it to him. “Good night, Mr. McCloud.”
He shrugged into it and crossed to the door, turning toward her before he opened it. “By the way, don’t get any ideas about getting me up too early. I wouldn’t want you to catch me wearing nothing but a smile.” He watched her eyes widen in horror, then added, “Good night, Miss Julia.”
All the way to the barn, he wondered if he had a death wish and hadn’t known about it. Now, he had to prolong his agony until morning. It would have been so much wiser to take care of things tonight. In some ways, he was thinking of her. By delaying the news, only one of them would be robbed of sleep.
Julia slammed the door and sagged against it, her heart beating wildly against her rib cage. Lord, what had she been thinking? He personified every disgusting example of manhood on the face of the earth. She knew that. She’d known it from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. He was brash, indecent, cocky, disreputable, and, yes, dangerous. Even so, he waltzed in, acted deceptively human for one lousy hour, and she’d forgotten everything she’d hated about him in the first place.
Lightning flashed in the sky, followed by a hard crack of thunder. The rain continued to hammer the windows. She welcomed it. Maybe it would drive him away. The barn roof leaked; she doubted there was a square foot anywhere that didn’t have a hole in it.
No man with an ounce of civilized blood would stay more than one night in a cold, leaky, mouse-infested barn.
She was feeling pretty good about everything as she turned out lamps and closed up for the night. It wasn’t until she’d checked on Marymae and crawled into her own bed that she realized Wolf McCloud’s blood was probably as wild and uncivilized as his stallion’s.
The rooster woke Julia. She hadn’t been asleep very long. She’d lain in bed for hours, listening as Marymae sucked contentedly on her thumb, thinking about Wolf McCloud. As she slid from the bed, she knew there was no way on earth she could let him stay, no matter how much she needed the help. That he was incorrigible was a fact. She would deal with it. That she responded to him on some visceral level was something she could not deal with, nor did she have any intention of trying.
She went to the window and looked outside, noting that the storm had blown on, leaving the air wet and clean. The sky was clear and so blue it looked like something out of a painting. Her gaze moved toward the barn, and she saw no movement whatsoever. She narrowed her eyes, drawing on her anger toward him and the ease with which he was able to embarrass her.
The slug would probably sleep until noon, she thought. In nothing but a smile.
In spite of herself, she started to imagine him that way, comparing his long, hard lines to those of his stallion’s, then rolled her eyes and cursed. A war was going on inside her. There wasn’t a person who knew her who would believe that beneath her prim, aloof exterior lay a heart thirsting for danger. Fortunately, she’d been able to control it before, and she could now, too. Lord help her, if there was
“Well, now, you make it sound mighty appealing. I think that a barn is just the right place to have a friendly toss in the hay, but it’s no fun alone.” He stood and curled his thumbs around his belt loops. “Care to join me?”
She marched to the fireplace, her sweet ass jiggling a tad beneath her robe. If anyone had ever asked him, he’d have said he was an ass man. Breasts were nice, hell, every man liked breasts, but he rarely focused on them. He enjoyed watching a woman walk away from him in her nightclothes, her ass twitching and wiggling ever so slightly, just as Miss Julia’s was now. It was like an open invitation to touch. Well, he thought, his mouth twisting with scorn, maybe not this time, and not with this woman.
She yanked his jacket off the hook and threw it to him. “Good night, Mr. McCloud.”
He shrugged into it and crossed to the door, turning toward her before he opened it. “By the way, don’t get any ideas about getting me up too early. I wouldn’t want you to catch me wearing nothing but a smile.” He watched her eyes widen in horror, then added, “Good night, Miss Julia.”
All the way to the barn, he wondered if he had a death wish and hadn’t known about it. Now, he had to prolong his agony until morning. It would have been so much wiser to take care of things tonight. In some ways, he was thinking of her. By delaying the news, only one of them would be robbed of sleep.
Julia slammed the door and sagged against it, her heart beating wildly against her rib cage. Lord, what had she been thinking? He personified every disgusting example of manhood on the face of the earth. She knew that. She’d known it from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. He was brash, indecent, cocky, disreputable, and, yes, dangerous. Even so, he waltzed in, acted deceptively human for one lousy hour, and she’d forgotten everything she’d hated about him in the first place.
Lightning flashed in the sky, followed by a hard crack of thunder. The rain continued to hammer the windows. She welcomed it. Maybe it would drive him away. The barn roof leaked; she doubted there was a square foot anywhere that didn’t have a hole in it.
No man with an ounce of civilized blood would stay more than one night in a cold, leaky, mouse-infested barn.
She was feeling pretty good about everything as she turned out lamps and closed up for the night. It wasn’t until she’d checked on Marymae and crawled into her own bed that she realized Wolf McCloud’s blood was probably as wild and uncivilized as his stallion’s.
The rooster woke Julia. She hadn’t been asleep very long. She’d lain in bed for hours, listening as Marymae sucked contentedly on her thumb, thinking about Wolf McCloud. As she slid from the bed, she knew there was no way on earth she could let him stay, no matter how much she needed the help. That he was incorrigible was a fact. She would deal with it. That she responded to him on some visceral level was something she could not deal with, nor did she have any intention of trying.
She went to the window and looked outside, noting that the storm had blown on, leaving the air wet and clean. The sky was clear and so blue it looked like something out of a painting. Her gaze moved toward the barn, and she saw no movement whatsoever. She narrowed her eyes, drawing on her anger toward him and the ease with which he was able to embarrass her.
The slug would probably sleep until noon, she thought. In nothing but a smile.
In spite of herself, she started to imagine him that way, comparing his long, hard lines to those of his stallion’s, then rolled her eyes and cursed. A war was going on inside her. There wasn’t a person who knew her who would believe that beneath her prim, aloof exterior lay a heart thirsting for danger. Fortunately, she’d been able to control it before, and she could now, too. Lord help her, if there was
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