Man of Her Dreams by Tami Hoag Page B

she didn’t have to think about it for the moment.
    â€œI’m starved,” Ry announced. His stomach grumbled loudly to accent the statement. “Let’s go up to the house and get something to eat.”
    â€œAll right,” Maggie said, but she didn’t move.
    Ry turned with his hand on the doorknob. “Come on, Mary Margaret, before I keel over from starvation.”
    It had probably been all of two hours since his last meal, she thought crossly. She looked up at him with a pained smile. “I’d love to, sugar. There’s one minor problem, however.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    She gave a little shrug that set off explosions of pain in her shoulders. “I can’t get out of this chair. My muscles are all frozen.”
    â€œJeepers cripes.” Rylan muttered under his breath. He moved to stand in front of Maggie, bent down, slid his hands under her arms, and lifted her off the chair.
    Slowly she straightened out her cramped legs until her feet touched the floor. “Thank you.”
    â€œDon’t mention it,” Ry said, threads of hoarseness running through his voice. His palms were pressed against the sides of her full breasts. With a twist of the wrist he could have filled his hands with ripe, womanly softness. His mouth went dry. Lord, he wanted this woman. In another minute his desire was going to be obvious to anyone who glanced at the front of his breeches.
    He forced himself to step back, trying to detach himself physically and emotionally. He even managed to sound practical when he said, “When you get home, you’ll have to give yourself a rubdown with good strong liniment.”
    â€œYou’ve got it half right, darlin’,” Maggie said, giving him a slow, devious smile. “I’m going to get a rubdown.” She tapped a forefinger against his breastbone. “And
you’re
going to give it to me.”
    Ry felt his stomach drop down to his knees. Immediately his mind conjured up images of black satin sheets and love lotions, candles burning and Maggie stretched out naked, waiting for his hands to glide over her creamy flesh.
    â€œMe?” he asked weakly, barely able to hear himself for the blood roaring in his ears.
    She glanced meaningfully from Rylan to the dog, then back to Rylan. “You owe me one,
friend.
”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    â€œLord, what is that awful smell?” Maggie asked, her face twisted into a grimace. She was stretched out on her belly across the white chenille spread on Ry’s bed, a king-size blue towel wrapped around her.
    She had insisted on a long, hot shower before her massage, thinking that would give Ry plenty of time to get himself worked up. She hadn’t missed the desire in his eyes when they’d stood inches apart in the stable dispensary. He wanted her, she could see it. Why he was holding himself in check was beyond her, but his celibacy, where she was concerned, was at an end.
    The plan was perfect. By the time he rubbed all the knots out of her muscles, she would be in the mood for love, and she would have full use of her body back. Ry would be aroused from running his hands over her naked skin. But the aroma wafting from the brown bottle Ry held told her there was one thing she hadn’t foreseen.
    â€œIt’s liniment,” he said, biting the words off. Damn her, he thought, trying to fight the fire in his loins with anger. He looked furious, but there was something much warmer in his eyes as his gaze traveled down beyond her towel to her nicely rounded legs and dainty feet.
    â€œIt smells like the stuff you use on the horses.”
    â€œIt is.”
    She lifted a delicately arched brow. “The same?”
    â€œDiluted.”
    Maggie bit back a giggle. Ry didn’t like the corner she had so neatly backed him into. The ornerier he got, the shorter his sentences, the darker his scowl. Ominous was a pale word for the look he was