Lost in a Stallion's Arms (Kimani Romance) by Deborah Fletcher Mello

boxes, Mr. Luke.”
    “I sure will. Thank you, Bryson,” Luke said, moving onto his feet. “Would you like to take my place and play cards with Mrs. Woodrow?”
    The young boy grinned widely. “Can we play Go Fish? I like ’dat game.”
    Mrs. Woodrow skewed her face, her cheeks sinking as if she’d bitten into something sour. “I don’t think I knows ’dat game, baby.”
    “I’ll show you, okay?” Bryson said, reaching for the deck of cards. “I’ll show you good!”
    Leaving the two to maneuver through Bryson’s version of Go Fish, Luke sauntered over to where Joanne was waiting. A hopeful expression blessed the woman’s face, her usual reserve heightened with a touch of anxiety. She met his smile with a faint one of her own.
    “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but one of the local restaurants just donated cases of canned goods for the food bank and we need as many hands as we can to get them off the truck.”
    “No problem. I’m glad to be of service,” Luke answered, following behind as she led the way to the delivery bay at the rear of the building. “So, how are you doing today?”
    Joanne nodded. “I’m well, thank you,” she responded. She cringed, painfully aware that her formal responses and extended periods of silence were starting to wear thin. She was grateful that he was behind her, unable to see the dismay on her face.
    The man had been volunteering for well over a week, and when she hadn’t been avoiding him, she would only allow them to exchange fragments of polite conversation until she could find reason to turn tail and run. She could only imagine what he had to be thinking about her. But this wasn’t her, and Joanne didn’t have a clue why she was reacting so nervously to Luke being around. But his presence was working her nerves like no other man had ever done before.
    Joanne couldn’t begin to explain why Luke Stallion had her so anxious, but every time she was near him she broke out into a cold sweat. The first few times they’d encountered each other it had been Luke who’d been bumbling and stumbling with anxiety. Now suddenly he was too cool, too smooth and too cocky as he strutted around the center like a prize bull. Joanne, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get it together.
    Luke continued to chat as if nothing was awkward between them. He suddenly paused, stopping in his tracks as he gently touched her shoulder, moving Joanne to stop in hers.
    Luke took a step forward, sandwiching Joanne between him and the wall. He resisted the urge to draw his finger along the curve of her cheek, wanting to relish the sensation of her silken skin.
    “I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t offended by your attitude the other day.”
    “Excuse me?” Startled, Joanne lifted her eyes to stare at him, her eyebrows raised as high as the pitch in her voice.
    He repeated himself. “That attitude you gave me. In case you were concerned, I didn’t take it personally.” The look on Luke’s face was smug, amusement gleaming in his eyes. His gaze was so deep that Joanne felt every nerve ending in her body stiffen.
    Clearly peeved by his assertion, she suddenly crossed her arms over her chest, one foot tapping the concrete floor anxiously. She forced herself to bite back a caustic reply, saying instead, “I don’t recall giving you attitude . I was just expressing an opinion.” She was a bit chagrined by his arrogance, but that stare was unnerving her more. She found herself fighting not to stare back. She made herself focus on the fire alarm box that decorated the wall right behind his head.
    “Clearly you misinterpreted our conversation. I was just expressing my point,” she said, hoping that there was much attitude in her reply.
    Luke chuckled. “Oh, really. Well, I appreciate that. As you can see, I took your opinion to heart. That’s why I’m volunteering.”
    Joanne drew a hand beneath her chin, her fingers falling against her neck. “Good for you.”
    “I thought you’d