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Part of her wondered if she should stick around a little longer while Ventura was all worked up and angry in case the bad mood brought his criminal tendencies out. But she was physically exhausted, her spirit weary after the trying day. She needed to de-stress tonight. Conserve some energy for tomorrow.
She’d take a soak in the tub. Maybe try some yoga. The porch of her tiny, secluded cabin had a beautiful view during the day. And at night, she could see stars for miles. But as she hurried across the ranch to indulge herself in some much needed downtime, an image of her sister’s tearful face returned to chastise her.
Back home, Hope wouldn’t be de-stressing tonight. And she sure as hell wasn’t taking any feminine joy from admiring the way a brash cowboy looked in jeans.
Priorities quickly realigning, Hannah double-timed her steps toward the cabin. She’d shower, change and sneak back over to the barn to see what else Antonio the Ass got up to tonight. Because nothing would give her more pleasure than putting him behind bars.
Not even a diversion with the sexy horseman who’d rescued her from the shoot today.
* * *
Brock McNeill couldn’t get the actress out of his mind.
Two hours after he’d removed his quarter horses from the set of the idiot director who was making life at the Creek Spill Ranch a living hell, Brock was more than a little preoccupied by thoughts of the curvy blonde covered in hay. There was something about her that appealed to him—something far more intriguing than her looks, although she was easy enough on the eyes even with the heavy blue and purple makeup meant to look like bruising.
Now, riding back through a rocky ravine to his place after a late consultation with the vet, he found his thoughts on the woman instead of on his sick filly. As the head of the quarter horse breeding and development program at the Creek Spill Ranch, Brock realized his focus needed to be on his portion of the family business now more than ever. The film shoot required it. But the timing couldn’t be worse.
Because the McNeills were bracing for a scandal. A blackmailer had promised to reveal his stepmother’s secrets to the world two days from now. The whole Wyoming branch of the family was on high alert, waiting for the other shoe to drop because they’d decided not to meet the blackmailer’s demands.
To make matters worse, Brock’s stepmother was still recovering from a suspicious hiking accident that had put her in a coma right around the time the blackmailer had first surfaced. It was a mess.
Brock needed to protect his family. As the youngest of his brothers, born after the twins Carson and Cody, Brock had always been the odd-man out. It had been easy to fly under the radar in a big family, but the time had come to step up and prove himself now that his brothers needed to focus on their own relationships. Plus, his half sisters were particularly vulnerable because the blackmailer was hinting that their mother’s marriage to Donovan McNeill was invalid. Brock needed to be there for his father, his stepmother and his half sisters.
So it was flat-out wrong for him to spend his mental energy thinking about the hay-strewn beauty on the floor of his barn. Dating an actress would only draw more attention to his family when they needed to lay low. It was bad enough his sister Scarlett had been in the tabloids recently for dating one of the film’s lead actors. Besides, thinking about the woman so much was crazy, considering he’d watched her work for only half an hour or so. He’d shown up at the shoot because the ranch hands tasked with bringing the horses back hadn’t returned. Brock didn’t appreciate having his generosity with his animals taken advantage of, so he’d gone to set Antonio Ventura straight for himself. And gotten distracted by the woman crying tears that looked all too real.
She’d only been performing, of course. He understood that. But the tears had gone right through him, the pain in her eyes so damn convincing it had been tough to look away. What made a woman choose a job so emotionally demanding? Because—performing or not—tears like that didn’t manufacture themselves. They came from somewhere deep. Seeing her like that had felt oddly intimate.
Maybe that’s all it was. He’d caught a stranger in a moment that felt intensely private. Except then she’d smiled at him. The smallest twitch of her lips when their eyes met, and there’d been...
Heat.
He would swear from the look in her eyes that he hadn’t been the only one feeling a connection.
Brock decided to circle back to the remote barn Ventura had been shooting in earlier, wanting to see for himself that the guy had released the actress from work. Because while Brock had succeeded in freeing his horses from the director’s overheated set, he hadn’t gotten the satisfaction of witnessing the blonde walk away from the grueling job. He’d rather lift bales of hay all day than spend an hour sitting in the stuff half-naked the way she had. Especially the old, super-dry variety the director had spread all over the floor. Brock guessed a bed of nails would be more comfortable.
Reining in his horse as he reached the old, small barn that had outlived its usefulness on the ranch, Brock could see filming must have stopped since the lights were dim. A damn good thing, since he would be well within his rights as a partial owner of the McNeill lands to shut down filming if the company violated safety protocols, a clause his brother Carson had the sense to put into the contract with the production company. And working in a wood barn with hot lights and overheated straw that could catch fire veered into dangerous terrain.
The doors were open, though, inviting bears and other foragers inside. Someone must have forgotten to close up for the night. Swinging down from the mare, he patted her neck before dropping the reins and stepping through the open wood doors.
A dark shadow emerged from behind a support post.
A curvy shadow.
Brock recognized the shape of her instantly. No mean feat considering she’d been mostly covered in straw the last time he’d seen her. Apparently, his imagination had done a highly accurate job of filling in the blanks where her body was concerned.
She was dressed in dark leggings and a dark T-shirt. Her platinum hair was tucked under a ball cap with the logo of a West Coast football team. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup, he could see her features better now. The long lashes over her eyes. A few freckles on her nose. Then the stubborn tilt to her chin as she spotted him just inside the barn entrance.
“I sure hope you’re off the clock at this hour.” Brock summoned a smile, not wanting to startle her when she was alone. “I came back to make sure your director knew enough to call it a day.”
She shuffled from one tennis shoe to the other. Was she uneasy?
He took a side step to lean against the barn door, giving her plenty of space to walk out if she chose.
She folded her arms across her chest and stood her ground instead.
“So did I,” she claimed, although something vaguely defensive about the way she said it made him wonder if that was true. “I walked off the set right after you did, but the director was in such a snit, I returned because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t—” She took a deep breath and let it back out as if she was forcing herself to relax. “Taking advantage of people with no seniority.”
Her careful phrasing seemed...off. She was hiding something, and it didn’t take a genius to see she was uncomfortable. Maybe he’d been mistaken about the attraction before. Maybe it had been all one-sided.
“That would make him even more of an ass than I already took him for,” Brock said, preparing to leave, in case he was responsible for her feeling uneasy. Straightening from the doorframe, he was about to wish her a good-night when her laugh caught him off guard.
A genuine laugh. Surprise music to his ears.
Some of his tension eased as hers seemed to.
“He is. Most definitely.” She took a step closer to him, a smile lighting up her whole face, transforming her from pretty to breathtaking. “I’m Hannah Ryder, by the way.”
She extended her hand. Anticipation flared at the thought of touching her.
“Brock. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He closed his fingers around hers and squeezed.
His hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Just enough to see her notice. Her pupils widened a fraction. She sucked in a quick breath.
Gratified that he hadn’t been wrong about their first meeting—that there was something hot lurking just beneath the surface between them—he released her hand. He hadn’t mentioned his last name, preferring to avoid the inevitable interest in his well-known, wealthy family. Brock had been down that road before, not realizing a woman he’d cared about had been after him only for the connections. The McNeill lifestyle. Or, more accurately, other McNeills’ lifestyle. Brock preferred hard work to jet-setting, no matter that his hotel magnate grandfather owned five-star resorts all over the world.
Hannah Ryder toyed with the long sleeve of her dark T-shirt, pulling it over one hand, but not before he spotted a silver ring in the shape of an eternity knot. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you earlier, but your entrance was very well timed.”
There was a slight husky quality to her voice that made the sound as warm and inviting as a whiskey shot. She was about a head shorter than him, maybe a little more. Dressed all in black with her hair tucked under the cap, she looked like she was trying to avoid recognition. Maybe movie people dressed that way all the time when they were off duty. She seemed about as far from his idea of a diva as possible.
“I regret that I didn’t intervene sooner, before my horse’s hoof landed on your hair.” He couldn’t act fast enough after that, knowing the animals were too restless to be trusted standing so close to her head. “You barely even winced.”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “But it was enough to ruin another shot. Whenever I let my guard down even a little bit, then it’s my fault the whole crew gets stuck on the set for an extra hour.”
“Is it always like this?” He realized her eyes were gray under the shadow of her cap’s brim.
She smelled good, too. Like soap and wildflowers. He caught the hint of fragrance as she played with the shirtsleeve, the fabric rubbing against her skin.
“Not at all. My job is usually pretty fun, but this film is making me see how much the director has to do with setting a production’s tone.”
Brock wanted to ask her more, but he guessed she must be tired after her long day.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I thought you were fantastic today.” He wasn’t overstating it, or flattering her. She was good. “In fact, it was because I was so caught up in watching your performance that I didn’t interrupt filming sooner.”
She laughed again, the sound another surprise shot of pure adrenaline.
“So I have no one to blame but myself for my hair getting stepped on? Are you saying that if I’d been a worse actress, you would have come to the rescue sooner?” Her gray eyes twinkled with mischief.
Teasing. Flirtation.
It wasn’t a game Brock had played often. Or well. But he damned well recognized it.
He let the new flames crackle through him, stunned that a total stranger could stir that level of heat. What was it about her? Hell, what was it about him that he was letting it draw him in?
“I’m saying, Hannah Ryder, that you’re not an easy woman to look away from.”
He heard the tone of his voice; it was all wrong for the moment. It brought the teasing and flirtation to a halt. The air around them changed. Got warmer.
He saw the confusion in her gaze. The surprise. A whole host of emotions flickered through her expression that he couldn’t identify.
But there was one that he knew. Because he felt it, too.
Desire.
It pulsed in the charged air like a heartbeat. For a moment, he thought she might take a step toward him. Until, outside the barn, his horse whinnied softly. Breaking the moment and the connection.
“I’d better go.” She tucked her chin into her chest and stalked past him. Out of the barn and into the night.
Brock watched her leave, knowing he shouldn’t follow. She’d made her decision. He respected that. He needed to check in with his family anyhow, see if their investigator had any updates on the blackmailer.
Taking a deep, cooling breath to ward off the lingering hunger for Hannah, he took his time stepping outside. Only to glimpse her outline in the moonlight.
With her back to him, he could see clearly the image that she’d pulled up on her phone.
A map of the ranch.
Walking directions back to her cabin.
Brock closed his eyes for a long moment, knowing he couldn’t let her make the long trek in the dark by herself. He would give his own sisters a hard time about navigating those woods on foot alone at night, and they’d been raised here, fully aware of what to look out for. How much did a West Coast visitor understand about the potential dangers of the Wyoming land?
Steeling himself against the inevitable draw of the woman, Brock stepped closer to make an offer that was going to be hell on his restraint.
“How about I give you a ride home?”
Two (#ubdd54d39-9d0e-591e-8751-1677370f3200)
The cowboy’s voice smoked through her, heating her insides and sending a shiver of awareness over Hannah’s skin.
Did she want a ride?
Her subconscious was going to have way too much fun tormenting her with that image in her dreams tonight. For now, she needed to stop fantasizing about sexy Brock, the rancher who turned her inside out with just a handful of words and a smoldering gaze.
Her legs were still unsteady after whatever it was that had passed between them inside the barn. She’d had meaningful relationships in her past. Men she’d loved. And yet no one had ever given her the sizzling shock to the system that she felt from being around this stranger. Swallowing hard, she braced herself as she turned around to refuse his offer.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind walking.” Her voice was soft and breathless when she needed it to be firm and sure. “I, um, could use the fresh air.”
She could also use a new libido. One that wasn’t quite so susceptible to tall, muscular cowboys. It must be because of all the stress she was under with her sister. She’d latched on to a pleasurable distraction and now she couldn’t quite let go.
Brock folded his arms across his impressive chest. God, his arms were amazing, too. She wanted to skim her hands up the triceps and over his shoulders. Instead, she jammed her restless fingers in the back pockets of her jeans along with her phone.
“You’d probably be fine,” he acknowledged. “You must have walked over here in the dark in the first place, although the moon was higher at that hour, making the path a lot easier to follow than it will be now.”
She had been thinking the same thing since she didn’t remember exactly where she’d broken through the brush to find the barn. Nightfall in this part of Wyoming was nothing like it was in Southern California. Here, there was no ambient light of any kind. Just deep blackness and stars.
“I’ve got my phone,” she argued, although she was beginning to wonder what else might be out there in the wilderness surrounding the ranch lands. She’d heard wolves—or some kind of wild dogs—baying in the distance on the walk over here. “The cabin I’m staying in is just through there.”
She pointed vaguely, trying to see any kind of trail.
“I’m not sure calling someone will do you any good if you meet up with a bear. Or an elk. Or some other wild animal that wasn’t expecting company at this hour.”
She didn’t want to be foolish. So, in spite of the out-of-control attraction, she figured the best thing to do would be to accept the ride and get home as fast as possible.
And put this encounter out of her mind.
“Is your truck nearby?” she asked, peering around the barn. During the shoot, there’d been a couple of golf carts and two trucks parked there.
A smile curved that hard mouth of his. Nodding, he relaxed his arms and walked past her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body, close enough for his sleeve to brush hers.
“My horse is right this way.”
“Horse?” Her belly flipped.
Not because she minded riding a horse. Only because it implied a proximity that...
A shiver stole over her skin. Her nerve endings danced in anticipation of touching him. Something her brain knew was a very, very bad idea.
“I—” Her voice wasn’t even there. She licked her lips. Tried again. “I’m not sure—”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, holding a hand out for her while he stood next to a dark horse with a glossy coat. “I’ll help you up.” He flipped the ring for her foot so it was easier for her to see. “Step into the stirrup and you’ll be home in no time.”
Her heart pounded a chaotic, fast beat. But stalling wasn’t going to get her home any faster. She understood that much. Willing herself to remain calm, she stabbed the toe of her tennis shoe through the foothold.
Brock’s hands were quick and efficient as he boosted her up onto the saddle. He didn’t linger. But he might as well have been massaging her naked body for how her skin reacted under her clothes. Her thigh tingled. Her waist...
She wanted his hands there again. Before she could gather herself or prepare for more, Brock swung up onto the animal behind her. His chest was against her back. Her hips tucked into the cradle of his lap, his strong thighs bracketing hers.
There was no space. No distance. And it felt so good she couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried. The only thing she didn’t like about it was that she shouldn’t like it so damn much.
But there was no chance to protest now as his arm curled around her waist, his hand bracing her protectively against him while he nudged the animal into motion. Hannah sucked in a gasp at the feel of their bodies moving together. In sync. Rubbing together.
It was the most erotic experience of her life, and she hardly knew the man. Keenly aware of his body, Hannah closed her eyes to try to shut out the feel of him...everywhere. But even that proved dangerous, as her mind vividly supplied even more suggestive details. The scent of him—leather and musky aftershave—drifted around her, the warmth of his body a welcome heat on a summer night that had cooled surprisingly fast after sundown. Searching for a fraction of space, she shifted in the saddle as they galloped through trees. Her movement elicited a sharp intake of breath behind her.
It was the first indication Brock might be feeling some of the wayward attraction, too. She wanted to turn around to face him, to see the expression on his face, but his palm was a firm weight against her belly, his fingers a light graze of warmth along the inside of her hip. The barrier of her leggings didn’t begin to dull the intimacy of the sensation.
She didn’t know how she’d walk away from him at the end of this ride. For that matter, she didn’t know how she’d look him in the eye again after this. It was all so very...
Sensual.
Her heart pounded faster than the horse’s hooves. She told herself it was because of the incredible stress she’d been under. The frustrated tension of seeing her sister suffer and not being able to help. The unbearable strain of working with a man she despised in order to find evidence of his misdeeds.
