Leaping Hearts by J.R. Ward

other. In her daydreams, he’d had half a chance to see her as a woman, not just a stable hand, and, in her heart, for whatever asinine reason, she wanted him to find her beautiful. To see her as an object of mystery and desire. For her to be someone he wanted to touch and kiss and dive into with his body.
    A.J. struck an alluring pose in the mirror, pouting her lips and leaning on one hip.
    As if.
    Trying not to feel defeated, she reached up and pulled her hair together, smoothing wayward wisps. Her hands brushed free as much debris as would let go of her pants and then she tucked in the shirt. Scrubbing off a smudge from her cheek, she took one last look at herself, thinking she’d be lucky if the man didn’t call the cops to haul her away.
    Stepping out of the trailer, she took a deep breath, drawing in a heavenly scent of grass and soil. It was a crisp fall night, not too cold, and majestically clear. As she walked toward the white farmhouse, she looked up and saw the vast stretch of the Milky Way above her, waves of stars shimmering in a dark velvet sea.
    When the heels of her leather boots hit a flagstone walkway, she slowed down, trying to approach the house as quietly as she could. It was a two-story antique home with cozy lines and a lot of four-pane windows in the front. The roof was black and pitched at soft angles, with several chimneys breaking through its peaks and valleys. Stretching out from the rear of the house was another wing, behind which there was a garden.
    It had to be the original farmstead, A.J. marveled, noting that someone had taken great care to keep the place up. The house, like the rest of the stable grounds, was in meticulous condition, gleaming with fresh paint and the close attention of its owner.
    Arriving at the front door, she saw no doorbell or door knocker. Trying not to take it as a sign, she rapped her knuckles on glossy wood. There was a long silence and then she heard an uneven footfall inside.
    As the steps got closer, the enormity of everything she’d done broadsided her with terrible clarity. She’d blown her savings on an undisciplined horse, left her stables and her family and was about to throw herself on the mercy of a man who was widely known for having little for himself. And less for others.
    When Devlin McCloud opened the door, A.J. felt his presence as a physical blow. The impact of seeing him again was something she wasn’t prepared for, daydreams to the contrary, and meeting his eyes was like getting pulled into a whirlpool and wanting to drown. Those hazel eyes alone would have been enough of a shock but then she noticed he was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else.
    It was impossible not to look.
    Moonlight hit his chest and arms with a caress that further defined the muscles under his smooth skin. His body was sculpted and powerful, a perfect example of man in hisprime, from his imposing shoulders to his rippled stomach to the hint of his hip bones showing over the waistband of his pajamas. Mouth going dry, A.J. had to wonder what the lower half of him looked like.
    She felt his eyes pass over her and, when she looked up, she saw something flicker in their depths, some kind of reaction that he hid quickly. She thought for sure he’d noticed how flushed she was becoming and fought the urge to put her hands up to her cheeks. She decided he was probably annoyed with her ogling his body, and was searching for something intelligent to say, when he spoke first.
    “I knew this wasn’t someone selling Girl Scout cookies but you are a surprise.”
    Wait until you see what I have in the trailer, she thought.
    Before she lost her nerve, she blurted out, “I need your help.”
    Instantly, his face grew tight. “I gave you my answer this afternoon. And as much as I appreciate your tenacity, I’m not going to reprise the conversation. Especially standing in this doorway, in the middle of the night, wearing only my pajamas.”
    She had a passing thought that