He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers as he massaged her breasts through her shirt. “The whole time I was rubbing your feet, I really wanted this.”

  “I wanted this, too. Oh, Wyatt, kiss me. I want your mouth on me.”

  He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. “Where do you want my mouth, Olivia?”

  She groaned. “Everywhere. All over. Wyatt…” His name turned into a wail of frustration. “You’re torturing me.”

  His breathing was heavy. “No more than I’m torturing myself. Right now we have to settle for this.” He deepened the kiss, ravishing her in a way that left no doubt what he would like to do once they were free to explore each other.

  The wind picked up and blew a shower of water down from the pine needles, drenching them. Wyatt just kept kissing her, his mouth supple, wet and intoxicating. She squirmed closer, wanting more, wanting everything.

  A series of sharp barks jolted them out of their frenzied kiss. Wyatt let her go. She put her hand to her chest and struggled to remember their original purpose in coming out here. Oh, yes, Rodney.

  Leaning down, Wyatt scooped up the end of the leash. Then they both looked at the dog. Rodney had been hit by the same splash of water as they had, but he didn’t seem nearly as pleased with the erotic feel of it.

  Slowly he lifted his muzzle and began to bay in true hound-dog style.

  “No, Rodney!” Olivia dropped to her knees and held his mouth closed. “Don’t do that! You’ll wake up the whole house!”

  “I think he mostly wanted to get our attention.”

  Olivia glanced up at Wyatt. “Guess that wasn’t so easy to do.”

  “Nope.” His grin flashed in the dim light. “You are one great kisser, Sedgewick.”

  “Speak for yourself, Locke. I’m surprised you didn’t create a layer of fog around this spruce tree from all that steam.”

  His grin softened. “I loved kissing you, Olivia. I could do it all night. And it’s going to be hell trying to sleep when that luscious body of yours is right down the hall. But we need to get back to the house and do our damnedest to be respectful houseguests.”

  “But what about Rodney? We stopped watching him. Now we don’t know if he did anything or not.”

  “You’re right, so I’ll take him up to my room, which will serve a couple of purposes. If he didn’t go just now and ends up peeing on the floor, I’ll be the one to clean it up. Also, I won’t be tempted to creep down to your room when I know this dog would probably start howling if I did.”

  “Rodney’s a canine chastity belt.”

  “Something like that.” Wyatt lifted up his slicker and fished out the second treat from his pocket. “Here you go, Rod. Sorry about the unexpected shower.”

  “I’ll bet he went, after all. I’d hate to think we did all of this for nothing.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “Nothing?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

  “I’m perfectly willing to let the dog wait in the rain a little longer. I’d hate for you to leave here feeling all let down and disappointed.”

  She held her breath, wondering if he’d pull her into his arms again. “I don’t feel let down and disappointed. I feel keyed up and horny, and if you kiss me again it’ll only get worse.” And wouldn’t that be fun?

  But instead he backed off. “Wouldn’t want that.”

  “Right.” Oh, yes, she would.

  * * *

  LATER THAT NIGHT, AS WYATT tossed and turned on a mattress built for two, he wondered if he could maintain the facade of coolness with Olivia. Their kisses had raged through him like a brush fire, and every time he thought of the way she’d responded, his cock turned to granite. Instead of sleeping, which was the smart thing to do, the thing Rodney was doing on the braided rug beside Wyatt’s bed, he imagined making love to Olivia.

  He wondered if she had plans tomorrow. He didn’t know a lot about beauticians and salons, but he was reasonably sure that they wouldn’t be open on Sunday, especially in a small town like Shoshone. Olivia could have things to do on her day off, though.

  Still, she might be willing to spend time with him, and Jack wouldn’t be home until late afternoon. As he thought about what they might do together, he admitted to himself that mostly he wanted to get her alone somewhere. Would that be too obvious?

  And if he succeeded in working out a way they could be alone, then he needed his stuff from the Bunk and Grub. Specifically, he needed one certain item, something he carried with him, although only God knew why he did. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in over a year.

  Actually, he did know why he kept condoms on hand and had done it for years. Funny he hadn’t figured that out before. His mother hadn’t bothered to have any heart-to-heart talks with him except once, and the subject had been birth control.

  She’d handed him a box of Trojan condoms, which had embarrassed the hell out of him, but she’d insisted that he listen to what she had to say. A lecture about unplanned pregnancies had followed. She’d emphasized how such a disaster could change someone’s life forever.

  Now he knew where that lecture had come from. She’d married Jonathan Chance because she’d been pregnant with his child. These days people didn’t always believe that a marriage had to follow a pregnancy, but his mother had believed it back then.

  Even after only a few hours at the ranch, Wyatt could understand why she’d thought marrying Jonathan was her only option. She’d conceived the heir to the Chance legacy. And when she’d finally made up her mind to leave, she couldn’t take that heir with her. Jack belonged here.

  She should never have had more children, but he couldn’t very well wish she hadn’t or he wouldn’t exist. But she had not been a good mother, certainly not to Jack, and not to her other boys, either. One lecture about birth control didn’t balance out years of indifference. But it had prevented him from making the same mistake she had.

  As he lay staring into the darkness, Rodney whined. At Olivia’s insistence when they’d started upstairs, Wyatt had taken the flashlight while she took the votive candle. She’d argued that he had the dog and might need it.

  Apparently he did. When he turned it on, Rodney looked for all the world like he had to go outside. Well, crap. Climbing out of bed, he walked to the window. Rain no longer ran in rivulets down the pane, so maybe it had stopped. Maybe Rodney knew that.

  “All right, Rod.” Wyatt put on his briefs and the jeans and shirt he’d borrowed. No sense in bothering to put on Jack’s boots when he was planning to wear the rubber rain boots outside. He left his shirt unsnapped, too. This would be a quick trip.

  “At least it better be quick,” he told the dog as they left the bedroom, lighting the way with the flashlight. He let Rodney walk to the top of the stairs, but he carried him down because a long flight of steep steps wasn’t really Rodney’s thing. Once on the ground floor, he put the dog down, and Rodney padded right over to the front door.

  “I’ll be damned. Okay, let me get some boots on.” He abandoned the slicker option, snapped on Rodney’s leash and opened the door. Cool air greeted him, soothing his heated skin. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Without coaxing, the basset hound trotted across the porch and made his way down the steps while Wyatt gave him a lit path with the flashlight. Crossing the gravel drive took no time at all. But at the muddy area on the far side of the driveway, Rodney paused.

  “I’m not sure how you’re going to be a tracking dog if you can’t stand mud, my friend.” But Wyatt picked him up and transported him over to the tree, where Rodney hiked his leg and did what everybody had been trying for hours to get him to do.

  “Feel better, now?”

  Rodney yipped his answer.

  Wyatt stood under the tree for a moment reliving his encounter with Olivia. His groin stirred. Either they’d find some time alone tomorrow, or he was going to be one frustrated guy. But suggesting a picnic seemed lame, especially when the ground would be wet and muddy after all this rain.

  At some point he’d help her get her Jeep out of the ditch, but he couldn’t imagine parlaying that into anything cozy. Then inspiration struck. The night breeze must have blown the cobwebs from his brain because he had the perfect solution.

  In describing the ranch, his mother had mentioned a sacred Shoshone site a short drive from the house. The marker was a large, flat rock about the size and length of a pickup truck and it was laced with white quartz, a stone that was thought to conduct special energy and sparkled in the sun.

  He’d been a little surprised that she’d talk about the site because usually she downplayed the fact that she was half-Shoshone. That made him a quarter Shoshone, though he didn’t look the least bit Native American. And he wanted to see this site.

  Apparently the tribe didn’t visit the spot anymore, even though the Chance family had given them permission to do so whenever they wanted. Times had changed. But many years ago, the rock had been the location for tribal ceremonies. Inviting Olivia to drive out there with him was the perfect excuse to get her alone, and—if he was a very lucky guy—naked.

  8

  OLIVIA HAD HEARD WYATT go outside with Rodney because, big surprise, she’d been unable to sleep. Most of the clouds had drifted away, leaving the moon and stars to play hide-and-seek behind the ones that were left. Kneeling by her bedroom window and resting her arms on the sill, she watched him move across the gravel. The flashlight bobbed rhythmically as he walked in that loose-hipped way that told her a man knew how to use those hips in bed.

  His shirt billowed out, which meant he hadn’t bothered to fasten the snaps. She intended to stay here until he walked back. An opportunity to catch a glimpse of his bare chest was worth the wait.

  She liked that he hadn’t left his shirt open for a calculated macho display of muscles. He thought he was alone with the dog and had no idea she was at the window, her attention glued to his every move.

  At the far edge of the drive, he switched off the flashlight, leaned down and scooped Rodney into his arms just as the moon came out from behind a cloud. She had a great view of his buns in the borrowed jeans that were delightfully snug. Ordinarily she’d feel shallow for obsessing about a guy’s body like this, except that she also admired the person inside, so ogling didn’t seem quite so awful. She admired his cheerful attitude and his courage in coming here and trying to become friends with Jack.

  He was risking rejection and she hoped to hell that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t know Jack very well. Everybody knew his wife, Josie, because she owned the Spirits and Spurs and still worked there regularly. But Jack spent his time on the ranch, so Olivia had limited knowledge, mostly gained during Emily and Clay’s wedding two months ago.

  Jack had cut loose a little at the wedding, and people had told her that he’d been quite the party animal in his younger days. But after his dad died he’d retreated into a workaholic shell. Josie and little Archie had brought him out of that shell, apparently, but the whole issue with his mother still affected him. His initial response to Wyatt proved that.

  But Wyatt had come back, wearing his heart on his sleeve. She wished she could protect that vulnerable heart somehow, because she wasn’t convinced that Jack would be any more cordial than he had been before. Maybe she’d find a reason to hang around tomorrow, if nobody objected, so that she could be there when Jack arrived.

  After spending quality time with Rodney in the shadow of the spruce tree, Wyatt emerged carrying the dog again. Damn. That dog was obscuring her view of Wyatt’s most excellent pecs and abs. But then he reached the gravel, set Rodney on all fours and straightened.

  The moon and clouds were still involved in a dance, but they separated long enough to illuminate Wyatt—divine intervention as far as Olivia was concerned. Her breath caught at the beauty of him. Men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but Wyatt was.

  Moonlight painted him in shades of gray, as if he were the subject of an artistic black-and-white photo. Dominique would be able to capture this on film, but Olivia would have to rely on her memory. No problem. She wouldn’t soon forget how the light sculpted his contours and added soft smudges of chest hair that formed a blurry line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  Her fingers itched to touch him, but he was out of reach tonight. He would soon be back in his room and right down the hall, but he might as well be on another continent as far as Olivia was concerned. The thought of causing Sarah any embarrassment gave her heartburn. No matter how much she wanted Wyatt, and that was a whole lot, she wouldn’t breach the invisible barrier Sarah had erected between the two wings of the upper story.

  As Wyatt crossed the gravel drive he glanced up toward her window. She doubted he could see her there, but she liked knowing he’d thought of her during his late-night ramble. But she was dead serious about how she’d handle their relationship beyond the initial sexual involvement. If she and Wyatt turned out to be more than friends with benefits, she wanted to make damned sure that it was her idea and not his to take it to the next level.

  Wyatt and Rodney reached the porch and disappeared under the roof. The front door creaked open, and the sharp sound of the dog’s toenails on the hardwood floor and the softer thud of Wyatt shucking his boots told her they’d soon be trudging up the stairs. She had to talk long and hard to herself to keep from walking out and meeting them at the top of those stairs.

  That would accomplish nothing except to frustrate both her and Wyatt even more. Climbing back into bed, she listened for Wyatt’s footsteps and knew from his heavy tread that he was carrying the basset hound. It made an endearing mental picture.

  Then they reached the second floor, and the dog’s nails clicked along the hardwood while Wyatt’s progress was virtually silent in his bare feet. How she yearned for him. But she would have to wait. Morning seemed an eternity away.

  * * *

  RODNEY TURNED OUT TO BE a damned fine alarm clock. Before the sun was up, he’d begun pacing the floor and whining as if he had to go out again. Mumbling in protest, Wyatt left his warm bed and started pulling on his borrowed clothes. He hadn’t expected to sleep at all, but eventually he’d drifted off.

  His dreams had been excellent, filled with a very naked and willing Olivia, and pulling the jeans over his morning wood was not a fun exercise. “You’re worse than a new baby, Rod, old chum. I’ve never had a new baby, but I understand they interrupt your sleep a lot.”

  Rodney came over and started licking his bare toes.

  “And you can knock that off, too, Rod. The only person I want licking my toes is sleeping down the hall. At least I hope she is. I hope everyone on this frickin’ ranch is asleep because it’s barely light out. This is beyond early, and I know early.”

  Opening his bedroom door, he staggered out into the hall. Josie appeared coming from the other direction, Archie clutched in her arms. “Gotta deal with the baby,” she said in a sleep-roughened voice.

  “Gotta deal with the dog.” Wyatt let her go down the stairs ahead of him.

  “You’ll make a good dad, Wyatt,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I already feel like one, except this guy needs to lose some of this baby fat.” With a sigh, he picked up Rodney and carried him down the winding staircase. Then he clipped the leash to his collar and opened the front door.

  Although he wasn’t overjoyed to be roused out of bed this early after so little sleep, the minute he stepped out on the porch, his weariness vanished. The front of the house faced a spectacular view of the Grand Tetons, still snow-covered as spring moved into summer.

  The view had been obscured by rain yesterday, but this morning the pale pink of an impending sunrise bathed the jagged peaks and took Wyatt’s breath away. Knowing his mother had walked away from such beauty underscored how different they were.

  San Francisco had spectacular views as well, but his mother had never mentioned that as her reason for living there. She’d wanted an urban life and a rich husband. Not that anyone would have called Jonathan Chance a pauper. Any fool could see that the Last Chance was worth a lot of money, but the family would have to sell in order to tap those millions. His mother obviously preferred ready cash.

  Accompanying Rodney across the gravel drive to the dog’s chosen spruce tree, Wyatt shivered in the morning chill and wished for a jacket. But other than the temperature, it was glorious out here. He savored the scents of pine and wet earth and glanced up as a hawk wheeled overhead.

  Just as Rodney finished anointing the tree trunk, Wyatt heard activity down at the barn and several paint horses appeared in the pasture, manes and tails flying as they celebrated their freedom. The barn dogs Olivia had mentioned bounded out and ran up to greet Rodney.

  Thanks to leather collars hand-tooled with their names, Wyatt was able to identify them. Butch was a medium-sized dog, a mixed breed with short hair that was mostly tan except for a patch of white on his snub nose. Sundance was slightly smaller with a curly black coat and floppy ears.

  All three dogs participated in a round-robin of nose-to-tail greetings, but Butch and Sundance also trotted over to Wyatt seeking attention. Crouching down, he ruffled their coats and scratched behind their ears. “Guess Rod must have vouched for me, huh?”

  Panting, the dogs both grinned at him. A whistle from the barn sent them racing back down, probably for their breakfast. Wyatt realized he was smiling. He could easily lose his heart to this ranch and the surrounding countryside. And that wasn’t even taking into account the woman he’d kissed last night under this very tree.