“Come here and I’ll hoist you up.”
Hating the way he talked about her as if she were a sack of grain, she said, “I can get up on the horse myself, thank you.”
But boy, did it seem like a long way up, and when she stalled a minute too long, on a sound of deep frustration Grayson’s arms went around her waist and he all but tossed her up on the horse’s back. She grabbed the saddle horn and hung on for dear life, but he was seated behind her a moment later, his strong legs and hard chest holding her firmly in place.
When he kicked the horse into a trot, it wasn’t the sudden movement that stole all the breath from Lori’s lungs, it was Grayson’s warmth, his strength, his deliciously male scent...and the swift rush of desire that she didn’t have even the slightest prayer of ignoring.
* * *
Lord, why did the cows have to bust through the fence today? And why hadn’t he taken an extra couple of minutes to figure out something else—anything else—so that he wouldn’t be up here in a hell of his own making with the sexiest damned cowgirl who had ever graced the earth?
Grayson had never been so hard in all his life, and he had a bad feeling he hadn’t been thinking with the right head when he’d decided Lori would have to ride with him.
“Wow, is all of this really yours?” He couldn’t miss the wonder in her voice as she added, “It’s so beautiful—do you ever feel like you’re living in a painting? And oh, look at that!” She gasped with pleasure as she pointed out at the ocean. “No wonder you decided to move here from New York.”
For the past years, his land had been a refuge. It had been a way to leave the rest of the world behind. But he had never let himself truly take in the beauty. Not until he couldn’t help but see it through the wonder in Lori’s eyes.
“You’re very lucky,” she said as they rode closer to the broken fence, close enough to hear the waves crashing on the shore below. “Very, very lucky.”
She was right, he was, but not because he owned such amazing property.
No, today his luck meant getting to hold a beautiful girl who saw wonder in everything in his arms for a little while under the pretext of needing to keep her steady on his horse.
Because even though it was the last thing he should be doing, in this one rare moment where they weren’t arguing, or glaring, or being frustrated with each other, Grayson couldn’t find a way to stop himself from drinking in every precious second with Lori.
* * *
Two hours later...
Lori tried not to shiver, but it was getting so cold. Where had the wind come from so quickly? When they’d left Grayson’s farmhouse, the sky had been blue and cloudless, the air still. She hated that he’d been right when he’d told her a storm was coming in and she should put on a jacket.
If only she didn’t feel like she needed to do the opposite of everything he said. It was just that if she didn’t, he’d think he was winning.
And she couldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let any man win ever again.
Which was why it was so important that she stay on top of things with Grayson. Especially when it came to blocking the attraction between them that simmered beneath the surface of every look, every word, every accidental touch.
She didn’t even like him. Not very much, anyway. So she refused to want him. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts. She was not interested in sleeping with Grayson. Definitely not.
Only, despite how much she was willing herself to remain warm in the cold breeze, she couldn’t keep a hard shiver from running through every last inch of her. She sighed as she picked up the pliers, the cool handles feeling like blocks of ice in her already chilled hands.
The problem, she thought with another deep sigh, was that deciding not to feel something was very different from actually not feeling it. And just as she was unable to stop her shivers from taking her over head to toe, she was very much afraid that she wasn’t going to be able to keep her attraction to Grayson at bay for very much longer, either.
Fortunately, she knew that as long as she never acted on it, he certainly wouldn’t. Talk about a completely unbendable, rigid guy. It was his way or the highway.
And she was definitely not a way he had any intention of going.
He couldn’t have said even a hundred words to her today, and they’d been working outside with each other for hours. She’d never said so little to anyone in all her life...or been quite so powerfully aware of someone else. Once he’d gotten her going on the fence and could be reasonably well assured that she wasn’t going to completely screw up her part of it, he’d left her to her own thoughts, only stopping by to look over her shoulder at her workmanship every half hour or so.
Amazingly, despite the fact that she didn’t have anything else to focus on but the patterns of the twisting wires in her hands, thoughts of Victor hadn’t assaulted her, hadn’t crept in to take over every last open space inside of her and turn light to dark. Maybe, she thought yet again, she was right to have come here to a farm miles from anyone she knew, from anything she’d ever experienced.
If it hurt her female pride a little bit that Grayson was as far from falling for her as any man had ever been, well, she didn’t care. She didn’t want a man in her life, anyway. Her whole life felt like it had been one seduction after another. Not only as a dancer and choreographer trying to get jobs, but also as a woman trying to get men to notice her.
Her mother had raised her to be more than that, but growing up in a family of such dynamic, smart siblings, Lori had needed to carve out her own niche early on.
Naughty was what her brother Chase had christened her so many years ago, and she’d worked to fit that description every day since. Her hair, her makeup, her clothes had always been wild and sexy. She wasn’t someone who ever left the house looking anything but fantastic, even to get milk or the paper. When people looked at her, she’d made sure it was worth their while. And they’d always looked.
Out here on Grayson’s farm was the first time in her adult life that she’d ever forgone a blow dryer or let her skin be bared to the sun without at least mascara and blush and lipstick. She was living in jeans and T-shirts. The only part of her old life she still kept with her was the lace and silk she wore beneath her clothes.
The problem was that putting both dance and seduction aside left her feeling as though she was trying to hold onto the air as it flitted through her hands. Dancing and love had always gone together for Lori, from her first crush as a little girl on the teenager in her ballet class who could lift her so high, so effortlessly. All her adult life she’d fallen for other dancers and choreographers as she’d twirled and swayed in their arms on worn wooden studio floors and stages.