Dipping at the knees, he curved an arm under her buttocks and lifted her until she had to lean down to continue the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he started toward the bed, only hoping he was headed in the right direction. He’d make love to her on the floor before he would break contact to see where he was going. When his knee cracked into the side of the bed, he slowly lowered Monica to the waiting mattress, following her down, covering every inch of her tall frame with his own as they continued to kiss.

  He bit her lower lip, dragged his tongue across her cheek to the hollow just behind her ear. The earrings he’d given her fell back into her hair, giving him room to tease the sensitive lobe of her ear. She tipped her head and moaned low in her throat while he nibbled a trail of wet kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, to the slope of her breasts. Her fingers twisted in his hair, holding him close and encouraging his enthusiastic exploration of her body.

  Slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, he pushed the fabric up until it caught beneath her breasts. He feathered light touches over her softness, moving downward, stroking the flesh of her belly to the waistband of her skirt.

  Ryder’s fingers stilled just as Monica’s began moving. She ran her hands over his chest and back, and then began yanking the tail of his shirt loose from his jeans. With one harsh tug, the pearl-studded snaps opened from stomach to throat. Pulling his head back to hers, she kissed him, teasing him, driving him as insane as he’d tried to drive her.

  She was just beginning to toy with the button of his jeans when Ryder’s cell phone rang. For a minute, he ignored it. They ignored it, too wrapped up in each other to acknowledge any outside commotion. At the moment, Ryder didn’t think he would care if the hotel fire alarm went off.

  But the phone continued to buzz, growing more and more shrill with every peal. Reluctantly, and with a groan that told Monica just how sorry he was to be doing this, he lifted himself enough to pull the cell from the breast pocket of his shirt.

  “What?” he barked, not caring who was on the other end or how much he might offend them. Although they’d stopped kissing, he still had one arm around Monica, her head resting on his shoulder while she waited for him to finish speaking with whoever had dared to interrupt them.

  “Ryder, sweetheart,” his mother said, throwing the proverbial bucket of ice-cold water on his raging libido and effectively putting a halt on the fun he and Monica were about to have. “I hate to bother you like this, especially on your honeymoon, but I thought you should know that your father had a little accident.”

  “What?” This time the word was more worried than angry. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing serious, dear. You know how your father is. He was helping some of your men repair the back wall of your barn when he lost his footing and fell over a pile of boards. He’s going to be just fine, but he did break his leg in two places. The doctor says the cast will have to stay on for six to eight weeks.”

  Ryder heard something in the background and then his mother’s failed attempt to cover the mike. “Hush up, Jordan. It’s that ornery streak that got your leg broken in the first place.” Returning to the phone, she said, “He says the doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he’ll be up and about in a couple of days. You know how he is,” she offered in a low undertone.

  He did know what his father was like; nothing could keep the man out of commission for long. But the fact remained that he’d been hurt—while working on Ryder’s ranch, no less. He would need his family around him, and Ryder would need to be home to pick up the slack, not only at his place, but at his father’s, too.

  “I’ll be on the next flight home.”

  “That’s not necessary, darling. I only wanted you to know—I didn’t mean to interrupt your trip.”

  “Mom,” Ryder said firmly, leaving her no room to misinterpret his intentions. “I’m coming home.”

  Monica lifted her head and sat back as he ended the call. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned to meet her eyes. He’d have given just about anything to go back ten minutes and pick up where they’d left off. She still looked tousled, her skin showing the rosy glow of being well-kissed and almost as well-loved.

  Damn.

  “Dad broke his leg. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get back.” He stood, ignoring the fact that Monica was straightening her clothes and running a hand over her hair while he entertained thoughts of throwing her back down on the bed and having his way with her.

  “Of course I don’t mind. Is he all right?”

  “He’ll be laid up for a while,” he answered with a nod, “but otherwise, he’s fine, I guess. I’d still feel better if I were there, though. In case they need me and to take care of the extra work that’s bound to pile up at both ranches.” He paused. “You can stay here if you want.”

  It surprised him how difficult those words were to get out, and he swallowed hard afterward. It was a legitimate offer—no reason for her vacation to be cut short just because his had been. But the sharp stab of regret he felt at the idea of heading back home while she remained in Hawaii was foreign to him. And he wasn’t sure he appreciated the sensation.

  He didn’t even particularly like it here, no matter how often she reminded him that it was paradise. At least he hadn’t liked it until about ten minutes ago. Then he’d started liking it a whole hell of a lot.

  When he looked back at Monica, she shot him a withering glare and rolled off the bed to her feet. “I can’t believe you think I’d stay here while your family is in trouble.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and tapped one foot in irritation. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  He thought she was perhaps the most perfect creature God had ever put on this earth. Physically speaking. And the fact that she had just offered to cut her trip short to go home with him—had jumped down his throat for suggesting otherwise—raised her another notch in his estimation. She may be flighty and annoying and too headstrong for her own damn good, but she had a heart. Not to mention a body that wouldn’t quit.

  His pulse leaped, and he forced himself to take another step backward before he forgot he needed to get home and made a grab for Monica.

  But he didn’t need to make a grab for her. She touched him of her own volition. Taking a step in his direction, she laid her hand on his arm and gave a little squeeze. “I’ll start packing,” she said. “You call and see how soon we can leave. This will give us a chance to let Matt think we’ve given up on worrying about the money, and I can do the rest of trying to track it down from anywhere.”

  His head moved up and down, but he stood stock-still, his brain refusing to send messages to any other parts of his body.

  “Do you think your sister will be going home, too?”

  He shrugged. Good. I’ve got the head and one shoulder working. Throw in an arm and she may not think I’m a complete moron.

  “Call the airline,” she repeated. “You can talk to her after we get our seats. She and Matt may not want to go back, since they really are on their honeymoon.”

  She gave his arm another pat and went into the bathroom. He heard her gathering things and throwing them into different travel cases while he dropped down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh.

  When had he started falling for this woman? When had she become almost important to him? When had his body suddenly decided that it could go longer without food or air than it could without touching her?

  As he used his phone to check flights and book tickets, he realized he had six long hours in coach with too little leg room and too much being pressed against her like the cream in an Oreo to come up with the answers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  You don’t need fancy words to make yer meanin’ clear. Say it plain and save some breath for breathin’.

  Ryder and Monica arrived home late Friday night. They stopped at his place first to drop off their luggage, then headed over to his parents’ house.

  When Josie heard about her father’s accident, she’d insisted that she and Matt return home, too. Matt hadn’t seemed thrilled with the idea, but he hadn’t argued too much. They were due in on a later flight, Saturday morning or early afternoon.

  Except for a cast covering his right leg from hip to toe, and the fact that he had to be pushed around in a wheelchair, Ryder’s father seemed fine. He insisted he was and chastised his son for cutting his trip short.

  When he apologized to Monica for ruining her honeymoon, he looked so dejected that she could only laugh and kiss him on the cheek, telling him she’d think of a way for him to make it up to her later.

  “You really charmed Pop,” Ryder said a bit later on the ride back to Rolling Rock Ranch.

  Monica raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “When you leaned over to kiss him and told him he could pay you back later for disrupting our trip, I thought he was going to jump out of that wheelchair and run off with you. Mom would have killed him for it, but he was too smitten to see straight.”

  She laughed. “I like your father. He’s a sweet man. I just hate that he feels so badly about ruining our honeymoon when the whole thing was a sham to begin with.”

  “Yeah, well, his broken leg did interrupt something awfully honeymoon-like.” Ryder shot her a grin, one side of his mouth turned up as he wiggled his brows devilishly.

  “I suppose his timing could have been better,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But then, you didn’t seem too eager to pick up where we’d left off, either.”

  His wicked grin disappeared as he stared at her, ignoring the road ahead.

  “Watch where you’re going,” she cried, and he swerved to miss a particularly deep hole in the rutted dirt road.

  Keeping half an eye on the road, he continued to toss disbelieving glances her way. “Do you really think I didn’t want to keep doing what we were doing? If that’s what you believe, you don’t know jack shit about men, sweetheart.”

  She glanced out the window into the inky darkness, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “I know about most men,” she said carefully. “I’m not so sure about you.”

  He hit the brakes so hard she almost flew through the windshield. She threw an arm against the dashboard, and the seat belt jerked hard against her breastbone.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted. She looked around for a rabbit or deer that might have run out in front of the truck, but saw nothing.

  Instead of answering, Ryder unsnapped his seat belt, then hers, and dragged her across the seat into his lap. Without warning, he gripped the back of her head and brought her face down to his. His tongue ravaged her mouth, touching, scalding every inch while his hands roved over her body. His touch was like a brand, marking her flesh with invisible symbols of ownership. No one had ever touched her like this, ever made her feel this hot and bothered and wanted.

  As quickly as the kiss began, it stopped. Ryder pulled away and set her back on the vinyl seat, giving her a little push to her side of the cab. He pulled the seat belt across her waist and rebuckled it, then did the same to his own.

  “Be sure,” he said, then shifted back into gear and drove the rest of the way home.

  Several minutes later, Monica’s lips were still tingling as they entered Ryder’s darkened house. He tossed his keys on the countertop and flipped a switch, casting light through the kitchen and parts of the entryway.

  “Wow. Either you hired a new cleaning lady or your mother spent some time here while you were gone, too.”

  The counters were blessedly clear, and the sink was not only empty but sparkling clean. All of the dirty dishes and recyclables were gone, and she couldn’t resist opening a couple of the cupboards to see if things had been put away or thrown away. But there were stacks of plates and cups exactly where they should be, and both the dishwasher and trash were empty.

  “My money’s on Mom,” Ryder said. “She never liked me wasting money on a housekeeper when she claimed she could come over and clean up just as easily.”

  “Looks like she finally got her way.”

  “Yeah—for as long as it lasts.” Sweeping his “good” black hat—which Monica still maintained was only slightly worse for wear—off his head, he traded it for the work Stetson hanging inside the front door. “I’d better go out and check the stock, just to make sure everything’s okay. Will you be all right until I get back?”

  She smiled at his unwarranted concern. If Ryder was anything, it was protective—of everything and everyone in his life. Including her, it seemed. The idea warmed her insides faster than a cup of cocoa on a cold winter morning, though she had no intention of analyzing her feelings along those lines anytime soon. No, it would be better to concentrate on the matter at hand.

  Glancing at her watch, she said, “It’s too late to try to reach Simon, but I think I’ll call my friend Brooke. She’ll be wondering what’s going on, and maybe I can have her ship some of my stuff. You don’t mind if I snap a few pictures of your ranch, do you? I’m getting kind of itchy without a camera hanging around my neck.”

  “Be my guest. But if you ask me to pose in my birthday suit, you’ll have to keep those shots to yourself.” A corner of his mouth quirked up as he moved toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Like some kind of lovesick fool, Monica watched him leave and even went to the window after the door closed behind him, just to enjoy the view as he walked toward the barn. It didn’t last long, but she figured the few seconds of seeing his broad back, lean hips, and long legs before they disappeared into the evening shadows would be enough to tide her over until he returned.

  After that, she didn’t know what would happen. But if that kiss in the truck were anything to go by, she just might have a sexy, steamy night ahead of her.

  A shiver of anticipation raised goose bumps on her arms and legs.

  She didn’t bother rubbing them away as she retrieved her cell phone and the new charger she’d picked up while they were at the airport. Plugging it in, she gave it a couple seconds to turn on, then texted Brooke. Despite what she’d told Ryder, Monica suddenly didn’t feel like filling her friend in on everything that had happened since the last time they’d spoken. It had been a long day, with a lot of exhausting travel. Tomorrow would be soon enough for a chat.

  So, through a few brief messages, she assured her friend that she was absolutely fine and would catch her up later…but asked Brooke to box up her beloved Nikon D5, along with a few other amenities, and ship it to the ranch. Finding the address was easy, since all the mail Ryder had missed while they’d been gone was piled on a small desk in the dining room.

  Brooke asked one more time if she was sure she was okay, and Monica replied with two words: Vacation Rules.

  What had started out as a “what happens on vacation stays on vacation” joke had turned into a code they used occasionally to let each other know when they’d met a hottie and might disappear for a few hours. Once Brooke knew that Monica would only be tied to some guy’s bed if she wanted to be, her friend sent one last text: ’Night, followed by a series of emojis, including a thumbs-up, eggplant, wide smiley face, and confetti.

  “Ha-ha,” Monica responded aloud before sending back a sticking-out-her-tongue emoji of her own.

  With a chuckle, she left the phone on the counter to finish charging, then grabbed their luggage from just inside the door to move farther into the house. She put Ryder’s duffle in his room, then stood there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to decide if she was brave enough to add her bags to the pile.

  Turned out she wasn’t. She was a wimp. She wanted him—that had been decided all the way back in Honolulu and more firmly established by the kiss he’d treated her to in his truck.

  But she just wasn’t gutsy enough to simply move in with him. She could put her stuff in his room, make herself comfortable, probably even greet him naked under the covers, and she knew Ryder wouldn’t say a negative word about it. On the contrary. By the looks he’d been giving her all day, he would most likely fall on his knees and thank every god and goddess in creation.

  The very idea caused anxious little butterflies to take up tap dancing in her stomach. But she just couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to make love to Ryder because it was convenient. She didn’t want to be at his beck and call. If Ryder wanted her, she wanted to know he really wanted her. He would have to make the pivotal move.

  With a sigh of regret for her lack of courage, she lugged her things across the hall and into the spare bedroom. It didn’t look as homey or comfortable as Ryder’s room, but there was a small twin bed against one wall and a dresser against the other, and it would suit her just fine. And if Ryder wanted to pick up where they’d left off…well, he’d know where to find her.

  She was back in the kitchen, fussing around with nothing much just to keep busy when Ryder came in from the barn. He set his hat on the counter and came around to lean against its edge.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine.” She turned to face him, leaning against the sink in a mirror image of the way he was resting against the adjoining counter. “I ended up texting just to let Brooke know I was still alive.”

  He raised a brow. “So she won’t be sending in the troops to rescue you?”

  “Not unless I send an SOS or fail to contact her again tomorrow.”

  “Good to know.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, right. Seriously, though, I’ll need to call Simon first thing in the morning to see what he can do about my money being in that offshore account. I’m just afraid he’ll say there’s nothing he can do—or that he’ll need a signature or something to move things forward.”

  “Well, Matt and Josie will be here tomorrow, so if he does, we’ll be able to get it.”

  With a snort, she set her hands to her hips and challenged him. “And how, exactly, will we manage that?”

  Ryder didn’t move, just stood there staring at her as he seemed to mull things over. “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll think of something.”