A Cowboy in Manhattan

Four

Reed swung the eight-pound sledgehammer over his head, bringing it down on the wooden stake with a satisfying thump. He drove it halfway into the meadow grass, then hit it once more, anchoring it firmly into the ground. He took a step back and set down the hammer. Then he consulted his house plans, lined up the electronic transit to position the next stake before repeating the process.

An hour later, as the sun climbed across the morning sky, he stripped down to his T-shirt, tossed it aside and shaded his eyes to gaze across the flat meadow that overlooked Flash Lake into the foothills and far across to the Rockies.

He’d known for years that this would be the perfect spot. Milestone Brook babbled fifty feet from where he’d build his deck. He already knew he’d put in a footbridge, teach his sons to fish for rainbow trout and build a picnic table on the opposite side of the bridge so his family could spend Saturday afternoons eating hamburgers, playing horseshoes or badminton.

He could picture the living room. He could picture the view. He could picture six kids racing around in the yard. He could even picture his future wife chasing down a toddler. She’d be beautiful in blue jeans and boots, a cotton shirt and a Stetson.

In his mind’s eye, she turned and smiled. And he realized it was Katrina.

Reed felt as if he’d been sucker-punched.

He shook his head to clear it. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. He’d come up here today to get away from Katrina. His burgeoning attraction to her reminded him that it was past time to get going on the rest of his life. And the rest of his life sure didn’t include a tiny, blond-haired, blue-eyed ballerina.

“Reed?” Her voice startled him, and he spun around to see her crossing the meadow toward him.

She moved steadily closer. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore tiny diamond earrings that sparkled in the sunshine. Designer jeans clung to her hips, while a deep purple cap-sleeved T-shirt molded to her breasts, nipping in at her waist, ending just above her low waistband. Even without makeup, her lashes were thick and dark, her lips deep red, and her cheeks soft pink.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, glancing around at his work.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking.” She came to a halt a few feet away. “It’s a low-impact exercise.”

“I thought you were biking for that.”

“Variety,” she answered, tipping her head to one side.

He fought an urge to take a single step forward, cup her face, and drink in a deep kiss. But somehow, it seemed sacrilegious, as if he was cheating on his future wife.

She peered pointedly around. “A building site?”

“I’m staking out the foundation,” he admitted. “For my house.”

“Seriously?” She shaded her eyes to scan his work. “You’re building a house up here?”

“No. I’m building a secret military installation, with a formal dining room and a view of the lake.”

She gave an eye-roll and paced her way toward the pattern of stakes. “It’s big.”

He found himself following behind. “Four bedrooms.”

“Where’s the front door?”

“You’re standing on the porch.”

She pointed. “So, here?”

“Go on in.”

She glanced back at him to grin. “Thank you.”

“Dining room on the right,” he told her, oddly pleased to share his plans with someone. He’d designed them himself, keeping them secret from his father and everyone else. “Straight ahead takes you into the great room and the kitchen.”

“On the left?”

“Media room, then utility room. You can cut through there to the garage.”

She walked straight through the future great room toward the back of the house.

“That’ll be a breakfast nook,” he described. “There’ll be French doors here that go out onto the deck.”

“Great view,” she put in.

“Isn’t it? Master suite will have the same view.”

She gazed out at the river. “But I don’t understand.”

He stopped next to her in the position he planned for the deck railing, resting his hands in his front pockets. “I like a nice view of the lake.”

“I don’t understand the new house. What’s wrong with the old one?”

He’d made plans to build the new one before his father had died. But he saw no reason to change the plans now. “Caleb and Mandy can live there.”

“But they’re only going to be here part-time, right?”

“Probably. But they’ll want their own space. And I’ll want mine. So will my wife.”

She turned to stare at him, and her eyes went round, her tone became incredulous. “You’re getting married?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Do you have a secret fiancée?”

“Not yet.”

“Who?” she asked.

“I told you, not yet.”

“But who is she?”

“I don’t know.”

Katrina canted a hip to one side, while her face screwed up in puzzlement. “You’re building a house for a fiancée you haven’t yet met?”

“You got a problem with that?”

She paused. “Truthfully, I think it’s kind of sweet.”

“I was going for practical.”

“Well, you got sweet.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “I’m not sweet.”

She lifted her left ankle and twisted it in the air. “Your wrap helped.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m positive it did,” she confirmed, while his mind wandered back to their near kiss last night in the barn.

A rumble sounded in the distance, and Katrina braced her feet to the ground, turning sharply toward it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Horses.” He listened for a moment. “Small herd.”

“Where?” She took a sideways step in his direction, her gaze darting around.

“Over the rise. Coming this way.”

They were definitely at a gallop, and Reed wondered what might have startled them. Could have been anything.

“But there’s a fence, right?” Katrina asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Between us and them?”

“Nope.”

She paled. “Nope?”

He shook his head to confirm, and she moved so close she was touching him.

The sound grew louder.

“They’re headed for the lake,” Reed reassured her.

“Are we going to be trampled?” She turned her face into his chest.

He struggled not to laugh, placing a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “No, we’re not going to be trampled. They’ll head straight downhill.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Even if they don’t, they’ll see us. They’ll go around us.”

“Are you lying? Are we about to die?”

He grasped her upper arms, putting her away from him, staring down into her eyes. “Seriously, Katrina. Calm down.”

Her eyes were wide, ice-blue with fear. “What if they’re angry?”

“They’re thirsty,” he assured her.

The herd appeared on the rise, their hooves thundering, the ground shaking. Katrina squealed and threw herself against his chest.

“See? They’re turning,” he told her.

Exactly as he’d expected, they curved around the knoll, taking the downhill route toward the lake. The dozen sleek brown, black and white bodies moved off into the distance. The sound diminished, and the ground vibrations disappeared.

Reed noticed Katrina was shaking.

“Hey.” He smoothed back her hair. “Big-city princess, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Then I’m embarrassed.”

“Okay, that’s a valid emotion.”

She socked him in the bicep with the flat of her fist. “I’m not used to horses.”

“No kidding.”

Now that she’d calmed down, he allowed himself to focus on the feel of her in his arms. She was softly curved, perfectly proportioned. The top of her head only came to his chin, but she was looking up, and if he dipped his head, tipped it on an angle, his lips would be on hers.

His hand convulsed against the small of her back. Her hips pressed against the V of his thighs. Her hands were warm where they rested against his back. And a surge of desire crested in his veins.

His gaze met hers, opaque and darkened to midnight-blue. The world stilled and paused for breath around them, the birds going silent, the wind going still; even the sound of the brook was muffled in the thickening air. His free hand rose to cup her cheek, sliding into her hairline as he dipped his head. Her sweet breath mingled with his.

“Tell me no,” he rasped. Nothing short of her genuine protest would stop him this time.

But she stayed silent, stayed pressed against him, her lips slightly parted.

He cursed under his breath and crossed those final inches that brought his lips flush against hers. The burst of passion was instantaneous, igniting every fiber of his body to a roaring need. Her lips were full, tender and hot, and they tasted like summer nectar.

He urged them apart, delving deep with his tongue, his fingers tangling in her hair, his other arm wrapping fully around her waist, pressing her tight against his intense desire.

His kiss was too hard. His hold was too tight. He lifted her easily off the ground, even as a small speck of sanity that was struggling deep inside his brain ordered him to slow it down, to let her go, to back off.

But she moaned against his mouth, the vibration setting off another chain reaction of passion. Her hands fisted into his sweat-dampened shirt, while the softness of her breasts burned an imprint into his chest.

A horse whinnied in the distance, and the sound of the brook flowed into his ears. Birds came back to life, while the breeze picked up, cooling his overheated skin.

With steely determination, he forced himself to break the kiss. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, still drinking in the feel of her soft curves.

“I’m not,” she gasped.

His body convulsed. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay.” A pause. “I won’t.”

He sucked in a couple of deep, deep breaths, forcing his hand to fall away from her cheek. Then he regretfully touched his forehead to hers. “I was out of line.”

“Why are you blaming yourself?” Her breathing was as deep as his. “There are two of us here.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

She drew slowly back. Wisps of blond hair had worked free from her ponytail. Her lips were swollen red, cheeks flushed, eyes bedroom-soft with a sensual message. “In some circumstances, being a gentlemen is overrated.”

Reed groaned his frustration. “You’re killing me, Katrina.”

“Not exactly what I was going for.”

“You want me to kiss you again?” he demanded, knowing he couldn’t take much more of her flirtatious teasing.

“You want to kiss me again, cowboy?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

They stared at each other in charged silence.

“But I won’t,” he determined, gritting his teeth.

He wouldn’t, because if he kissed her again, he knew he wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t matter that the bedroom of his future house was nothing but a few stakes in the ground-he’d make passionate love to her, right here in the thick grass of the meadow. And then he’d have to build a different house, in a different location, because she’d be all he ever remembered here.

Katrina wasn’t completely without experience when it came to men.

Okay, so she was mostly without experience when it came to men. But it wasn’t her fault. She’d gone to an all-girls school until she was eighteen, graduating straight into the Liberty Ballet company. Until graduation, she’d been surrounded by girls and the few male dancers who’d participated in performances. The male dancers were nice guys, many of them fun and funny, but none of them interested her romantically.

She’d dated a little in the past year, mostly men she’d met at fundraisers or parties connected to the dance company, but nothing had ever turned into a relationship.

And then there was Quentin. But she sure wasn’t counting that. Reed’s kiss, on the other hand, she would definitely count. Quentin was a member of Liberty Ballet’s board of directors. Close to twenty years older than Katrina, he’d been dogging her since she’d become a principal dancer. Frustrated by her lack of uptake on his intense flirting, he’d finally cornered her in his office two weeks ago, forced a slobbery kiss on her mouth and baldly propositioned her. When she’d broken away, firmly telling him she wasn’t interested, he’d grown angry and threatened to destroy her career.

She didn’t know how or if he’d be able to make good on that threat. But he certainly knew the movers and shakers of the ballet world.

She ran a brush through her wet hair, gazing into the dresser mirror in the Terrells’ guest room. Odd, the differences between Quentin and Reed. Quentin was urbane, educated, fastidious and debonair. Reed was raw, passionate, assertive and unruly. But there was no contest over who she’d trust.

Her fingertips went reflexively to her lips. She could swear they were still tingling from Reed’s kiss this afternoon. He’d been the one to call a halt. He’d broken away and given them both a moment of sanity. If he hadn’t done that, she was sure she would have lost her virginity to a rugged cowboy right there in the middle of a Lyndon Valley meadow.

She shook her head, even as her smile and the warm glow remained. Like any woman, she’d fantasized about her first time making love. It had always involved a posh hotel suite, and a man who’d laid his bow tie and tux over a French provincial armchair before joining her in a lacy, canopied bed. Lyndon Valley, blue jeans, an imperfect nose and a beard-rough chin weren’t even on her radar.

“Katrina?” Mandy rapped lightly on the door.

“Come in,” Katrina called, determinedly banishing thoughts of Reed and tightening the sash of her satin robe.

The door opened. Like Katrina, Mandy had showered recently. Her damp chestnut hair was combed back in a ponytail, and she’d pulled on a hunter-green T-shirt over a pair of beige cargo pants.

“How’re you doing?” Mandy opened, letting the door swing closed behind her, getting comfortable on the corner of the bed and curling her bare feet beneath her. “Ankle holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Katrina answered. “It’s doing okay.”

She really was fine, she realized. Quentin was far away and suddenly easy to push from her thoughts. He’d been obliterated by Reed. She felt buoyant and upbeat from all that fresh air. Her ankle had survived the walk with surprising strength. It felt a whole lot better than it had yesterday.

“Seth called,” said Mandy.

“Is he ordering us back home?” Katrina crossed to her suitcase, open on a low table in the corner of the room. She’d been wondering how long her other three siblings would let her and Mandy hide out at the Terrell ranch.

“Sort of. He wants us to go to Lyndon with him tomorrow. The Lyndon Hospital is hosting a charity ball, and he thinks it’ll be good for the campaign to have a strong Jacobs contingent by his side.”

Katrina glanced over her shoulder. “He wants us to campaign for him?”

“Nah. All we have to do is show up, dance and smile for the cameras. Cakewalk for you.”

Katrina retrieved a simple black knit skirt and a filmy copper cap-sleeved blouse. “Are we talking ballgowns and the whole nine yards?”

Mandy nodded. “It’ll be formal.”

“Then I’ll have to go shopping.” Which was a waste, since Katrina had a dozen perfectly appropriate ballgowns hanging in her closet in New York City. “And maybe do something with my hair. And I don’t know what I’ve got for shoes.”

If she could be positive any photos taken at the event would only be used locally for Seth’s campaign, she wouldn’t worry. But she and her fellow dancers at Liberty Ballet were under strict orders from the publicity department that every single public appearance, every picture, every interview, had to comply with company policy.

From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she had to be esthetically perfect.

“Lyndon does have stores,” said Mandy.

“And I’m going to need them,” Katrina joked, stepping into the skirt.

“You’ll probably have a lot more fun this trip. You’re dressing up and dancing instead of slogging through the barns and worrying about horses.”

Katrina paused, sensing a conspiracy. “You didn’t tell Seth what I said?”

“No, no.” Mandy determinedly shook her head. “It’s a coincidence, I promise.” She paused. “But there are some nice things about Colorado, you know.”

Katrina fastened the skirt at her waist. “There are some nice things about New York City, too.”

“You mean like traffic and muggings?”

“I mean like Central Park and the Met.”

“Lyndon has an arts center, an orchestra and a museum.”

Katrina slipped off the robe and put on the blouse over her lacy bra, fastening the tiny buttons up the front. “You really love it here, don’t you?” She padded across the bedroom and joined her sister on the opposite corner of the bed.

“I really do,” Mandy agreed.

“Won’t you and Caleb mostly live in Chicago after the wedding?”

“We think it’ll be about fifty-fifty. I’ll put up with Chicago for him, and he’ll put up with Lyndon Valley for me.”

“So, one of you will always be unhappy?” Katrina didn’t want to question the wisdom of her sister’s marriage plans, but theirs didn’t sound like a particularly smart arrangement.

Mandy’s voice went soft. “Caleb hated his father. He didn’t hate Lyndon Valley. And now that Wilton is gone, he’ll remember all the things he loved about the ranch.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Katrina plucked at the quilt. “Well, I’ll never leave New York City.”

“Not even for the right man?”

“The right man is already there.”

Mandy straightened, her expression perking up. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“No boyfriend.” Katrina was taking a page from Reed’s logic. “I haven’t met him yet. But I know he’s out there, picking out an impressionist painting for his penthouse, balancing his stock portfolio and dry-cleaning his tux.”

Mandy laughed, even as Katrina’s thoughts flicked back to Reed.

“Did you know Reed was building a house?” she found herself asking her sister.

“What do you mean?”

“He showed me the building site today. Up in one of the top meadows beside Flash Lake. He’s got it all staked out. I didn’t see the drawings, but he talked like it was all planned. He says he’s going to find himself a wife and start a family. You and Caleb get to keep this house.”

“Really?” Mandy drew the word out in obvious contemplation.

“So this is something new?” Katrina confirmed.

“He told Caleb he was planning to raise a family here on the ranch. But, as far as I know, he didn’t say anything about building a new house.” Mandy shifted on the mattress. “I take it you’re not fighting anymore?”

Katrina felt her cheeks heat and struggled to control the reaction. “We were never fighting.” She glanced away. “It was… He just… He’s helping me with my ankle.”

Good grief. Why was she having trouble with such a simple explanation? It wasn’t as though she was lying. Everything she was saying was true.

Mandy blinked. “Katrina?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you attracted to Reed?”

Katrina formulated an answer. “Reed is Colorado.”

If ever there was a man who was a perfect metaphor for a place, he was it.

“And you hate Colorado.”

“I’m intimidated by it.”

Mandy’s gaze was probing. “So you’re intimidated by Reed?”

“Why does this conversation feel like a chess game?”

“Because you’re being evasive.”

“I like my men in tuxedos,” Katrina answered honestly.

Mandy grinned and chuckled. “Then tomorrow night at the ball ought to be very interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because Reed will be in a tux.”

“Not a problem,” Katrina answered with conviction. It was one thing to dress a man up, but the grit of Colorado tended to stick.

The elevator door opened into the lobby of the Sunburst Hotel in downtown Lyndon, and Katrina nearly stumbled on her high-heeled silver sandals. Reed didn’t look remotely gritty. Quite the contrary, he looked fantastic in a tuxedo.

Next to a marble pillar and an oversize leather furniture grouping, he was joking with Caleb, Travis and Seth. He was the tallest of the three, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, with his hair freshly trimmed and his dark eyes zeroing in on her.

“Wow.” The word whooshed out beneath her breath. She had to remind herself to keep walking between Mandy and Abigail.

“You mean Caleb?” Mandy asked, a thread of amusement in her tone.

“Right,” Katrina returned without missing a beat. “Caleb.” Her gaze stayed glued to Reed.

“Seth’s tie is crooked,” Abigail put in, quickening her pace, clearly hoping to get to Seth and correct the problem before anyone else noticed.

“Liar,” Mandy muttered to Katrina.

“Who? Abigail?”

“Admit it, you’re attracted to Reed.”

“Not at all,” Katrina lied.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off him.”

“I was thinking he’s too tall.” Among other things. He was also too strong, too determined, too attractive and far too good a kisser for a Colorado cowboy.

“He looks great in a tux,” Mandy singsonged.

“All men look great in a tux.” Though few men looked that great in a tux.

As they drew closer, Caleb gave a low whistle of appreciation, his gaze warm on Mandy in an off-the-shoulder, full-skirted, full-length gown in shimmering silver.

“I love it when you dress up like a girl,” he told her, putting an arm around her bare shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

Abigail finished with Seth’s tie, chatting to him about the attendees at the ball, enumerating those he should seek out. Travis joined in their conversation, joking about who could make the biggest financial contribution to Seth’s campaign, as the three started toward the hotel exit. Mandy took Caleb’s arm and they fell into step behind, leaving Katrina and Reed to bring up the rear.

“You look very nice,” Reed offered to Katrina, taking in her slim-fitting, butter-yellow satin gown. The V-necked bodice was crisscrossed with tiny strands of crystals that also ran the length of the spaghetti straps accenting her bare shoulders. The back dipped low, while the hem flared out. The skirt was snug at her hips, but loose enough along the length of her legs to allow for dancing.

She’d bought some inexpensive but fun dangling crystal earrings that now hung below her simple updo. She’d paired them with an elaborate necklace of crystals interspersed with yellow topaz snug against her throat. Her makeup was to Liberty Ballet standards, a little heavier than Katrina preferred, but nobody in the ballet company would have a complaint if her photo ended up in a national magazine.

“Thank you,” she answered Reed, still drinking in his appearance.

He’d skipped the bow tie, going instead for a classic Windsor knot of taupe silk with a matching pocket square in the black coat, all over a crisp white shirt. The tux fitted him extremely well, and she wondered if it was possible that he owned it.

His strong, weathered hands and his slightly imperfect nose were the only things that stopped him from being equally urbane as any man she’d met in New York City. The realization was both disconcerting and exhilarating.

He held out his arm. She automatically slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, the strength of his ropy muscles evident through the supple fabric.

“You look very nice, too,” she returned the compliment.

“I feel like a penguin,” he grumbled. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to move in one of these things?”

Katrina gestured to her slim-fitting dress. “As opposed to moving in this?”

“Nobody expects you to hop out of the car and change a tire.”

“You’re planning to change a tire tonight?”

“You never know what might happen.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that.

He took her hand and pressed it to his jacket pocket.

She felt a hard, rectangular lump against his hip. “What on earth?”

“Multitool,” he told her. “Knife, screwdriver, file, pliers.”

“You’re armed with a tool set?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We’ll be in a ballroom,” she pointed out. “I expect there’s a maintenance crew. And the worst thing likely to happen tonight is a broken shoe buckle.”

They passed through the hotel exit to the sidewalk, where a lineup of shiny black SUVs waited for guests. She glanced around but didn’t spot her sisters and brothers.

“I can fix a broken shoe buckle,” said Reed. “I can also repair a harness, remove a splinter, whittle some kindling and fix an outboard motor.”

“I can’t do any of those things, with or without a multitool. Well, maybe remove a splinter,” she allowed. Then she glanced ruefully at the tiny clutch purse that contained nothing but the bare necessities. “But not with anything I brought along tonight.”

Reed opened the back door to one of the vehicles. “That’s the beauty of the system,” he told her, cupping his palm over her elbow to help her into the seat.

She glanced up questioningly.

He gave her a grin and a waggle of his brows. “You brought me. You don’t need anything else.”

“You’re a living, breathing multitool?” she guessed.

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, and his tone went low. “That I am.”

Had he just turned shoe-buckle repairs into a flirtation?

Before she could decide, he gently shut the door behind her, rounding the back of the vehicle to climb in the other side.

“To the Hospital Ball?” the driver asked Reed.

“Yes, please,” he answered, stretching his arm across the back of the seat.

The driver nodded and pulled the vehicle into traffic.

Reed angled his body so that he was gazing at Katrina. He didn’t say anything, just watched her while they made their way along Seventh Street toward Main.

She gazed back, meeting his eyes, strangely not feeling the need to break the silence. The moment stretched on, and she found herself remembering their kiss, his touch, his taste, the sound of his voice rumbling next to her ear and the woodsy scent of his skin.

“You going to be able to dance?” he asked gruffly, with a nod toward her left ankle.

“I think I can make it through a waltz or two,” she answered.

Progress was slow on her ankle. Then again, at least she was making progress. For the few days before she’d come back to Colorado, the healing had seemed to stall. She’d been terrified it would never get better, or it would take so long to get better that she’d lose her position with the ballet company.

A shiver ran through her at the unsettling thought.

“Save a dance for me?” Reed asked quietly, his eyes glinting silver.

“I will.” Katrina realized once again how safe she felt with Reed. There was nothing to worry about right now. Nothing was going to cause her any trouble tonight. Not even a flat tire.

As Reed would have expected, Katrina was the belle of the ball. Dinner had ended, but the dancing was not yet underway. So far, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to make it halfway across the ballroom toward the ladies’ room. Men stopped her, clustered around her, asking questions, obviously offering compliments, lingering when they shook her hand, making excuses to touch her.

Reed downed a swallow of champagne, wishing he had something stronger to quench his thirst.

Travis Jacobs took the chair next to him, nudged his elbow, and offered him a single malt, neat, in a heavy crystal glass.

Reed gratefully accepted. “Thanks.”

Travis slouched back, propping his elbow on the opposite chair, his voice a drawl. “I see the way you’re looking at my sister.”

Reed took a swallow of the Scotch. “Same way every other guy in the room is looking at your sister. You don’t like it? Don’t let her dress like that.”

“You Terrells need to keep your hands off the Jacobs women.”

Reed gave a snort of derision. “Caleb’s marrying one of them, and I haven’t touched any of them.”

Kissing Katrina didn’t count. It was a well-accepted fact that touching in this context meant something considerably more than kissing.

Just then the orchestra came up and the lights went down. Reed and Travis both watched as yet another man approached Katrina. His gaze scanned her thoroughly from head to toe, then he stood far too close, his expression animated, his hand too familiar on her arm. Katrina took a step back, but the guy didn’t let her go.

Reed firmly set down his Scotch glass and came to his feet. “I assume dancing is acceptable,” he said to Travis, even as he moved away from the table.

“If it gets her out of that jerk’s clutches, go for it.”

Reed nodded in response, already pacing his way toward Katrina.

Once there, he snaked a proprietary arm around her slim waist. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his hard glare causing the jerk to pull back as if he’d been scalded.

“Are you ready for that dance?” he continued, turning his attention fully onto Katrina, dismissing the other man with a cold shoulder.

The man withdrew, muttering something unintelligible.

A beat went past.

“Did you just rescue me?” Katrina asked in obvious amusement.

“Story of my life.”

“I was fine.”

“You didn’t look fine.” Reed knew he should remove his hand from her waist, but he left it there anyway.

“He was a little too friendly,” she admitted. “But I could have handled it.”

“You didn’t need to handle it. That’s why you brought me along, remember?”

She pivoted to look at him. “I thought you were only planning to fix shoe buckles and remove splinters.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her joke. “I also dance.”

“The two-step?”

“If that’s what you want.”

She cocked her head. “This is a waltz.”

Reed removed his arm from her waist, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Then let’s waltz.”

He steered her toward the dance floor where the ensemble was playing a classic ballad. There, he drew her into his arms, and his entire body seemed to sigh in satisfaction as she settled against him.

She was fluid and graceful, light on her feet, sensitive to his slightest nuance. He tucked her more closely to his body, his hand coming in contact with the bare skin revealed by the plunging V at the back of her dress. Her soft skin was so distracting that he struggled for something coherent to say.

“You’re a very good dancer,” he opened.

There was a smile in her voice when she answered. “Thank you. I’ve had a few lessons.”

He gave a sheepish grin in return. “I guess you have.”

“But it was nice of you to notice,” she continued with what sounded like sincerity. “And you’re not so bad yourself.”

“High-school gym class,” he admitted. It wasn’t something he’d done frequently since then, but when he did, he always enjoyed it.

The lights dimmed further, and the band switched songs to another famous fifties cover tune. Reed saw no reason to let her go, so he let one song blend into the next, keeping her snugly in his arms.

They silently wound their way toward a set of doors that were open to a wide veranda. It was darker at this end of the ballroom, the music was lower and a cool breeze wafted in from the riverbank. She molded closer against him.

“Cold?” he whispered, gathering her tight, even as he turned so that his body was blocking the breeze.

“I’m fine,” she answered into his chest.

Reed was fine, too. In fact, he was a whole lot better than fine. He wished that time would stop, that the world would fall away and leave him here alone with Katrina.

But then he caught sight of Travis far across the room, closely watching their every move. And he knew the world wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not that Reed blamed Katrina’s brother for worrying. Reed definitely shouldn’t be trusted with her.

“You go to things like this in New York City?” he found himself asking, curious and wondering how safe she’d be with neither of her brothers around to run interference.

Did she dress this provocatively for functions in New York? It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she had on underneath the clingy satin dress.

“Things like what?” she asked, voice slightly dreamy.

“Dances, charity functions.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “We’re contractually obligated to make public appearances. It’s good for contributions to have recognizable performers attend Liberty Ballet fundraisers.”

Reed didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s compulsory? What if you don’t want to go?”

She tipped her chin to look up at him. “It’s my job.”

Reed’s spine stiffened. “It’s your job to dance with random men?”

“Random men with a lot of money to contribute.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Really?” she drawled. “And your opinion counts why?”

Reed didn’t have a good answer for that. “What about your brothers?”

“What about them?”

Reed’s glance darted to Travis again, finding him absorbed in a conversation with two other men. “Do they know?”

“You mean, do they know…” she made a show of glancing surreptitiously around the dance floor then lowered her voice to a stage whisper “…about my wicked little ballroom-dancing secret?”

A surge of jealousy hit Reed at the thought of her other dance partners. Giving into impulse, he stepped through the patio door, spinning her outside, away from the crowd.

“Hey,” she protested.

But instead of stopping, he let their momentum carry them along the fieldstone wall. He came to a halt beside a square stone pillar, his forearm tightening across the small of her back, the darkness closing around them to give privacy.

She gasped in a breath, lips parting, eyes wide.

He gave her half a second to say no, then swooped in for a kiss. He came down harder than he’d intended, openmouthed, tongue invading, greedily savoring the sweet, moist heat of her mouth.

After a startled second, she tipped her head back, welcoming him, her tongue tangling with his. Her spine arched, and her hips pressed against the steel of his thighs. Her arms twined around his neck, and his free hand closed over her rear, the thin fabric of her dress all but disappearing in his imagination.

“Are you naked under this?” he rasped, kissing her neck, her shoulder, brushing a spaghetti strap out of the way to taste her tender skin.

“Are you naked under that?” she asked in return, tone teasing, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to wrap around him, branding him through the cotton of his shirt.

“Yes,” he hissed, then resumed the kiss that went on and on, pushing want and need into every fiber of his body. His world contracted to Katrina, her taste, her feel, her scent. His hands roamed, while his lips savored, and her lithe body imprinted itself on his skin.

A woman’s laughter penetrated his consciousness, as a group of people wandered onto the deck.

Reed forced himself to let go, fisted his hands and gritted his teeth, struggling hard to bring himself back under control.

When he found his voice, it was a mere rasp. “What are we doing?” What was he doing? What on earth had gotten into him?

Her hands were still braced on his chest, and her lips curved into a secret smile. “I believe it’s called kissing.”

It was so tempting to fall back into the moment. But he couldn’t allow it. This chemistry between them flew out of control the instant he let his guard down.

“What is the matter with me?” he ground out.

Why couldn’t he leave her alone? She was a family friend and a neighbor, soon to be an in-law. She wasn’t some temporary pickup in a honky-tonk.

She eased away, straightening the strap of her dress. “Are you saying ‘not here’?”

He wished it were that simple. “I’m saying not ever.”

Her smile faltered, and he immediately felt like a cad. Bad enough he’d accosted her. Now he’d insulted her. He hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. He raked a hand through his short hair, putting more space between them. “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips together. “No problem.” She made to move around him.

He reached out. “Katrina.”

But she brushed his hand away. “No need for an explanation.”

He snagged her wrist, stopping her. “It’s not that I don’t want-”

“You’re embarrassing me, Reed.” Her tone was brittle; her crackling blue gaze staring straight ahead.

He leaned down, lips close to her ear, attempting to make it better. “Listen to me.”

“No.” She tried to free her wrist.

“I want you, Katrina,” he confessed. “I want you very, very badly.”

“I can tell.”

He mustered his strength. “Give me a break. Your sister is marrying my brother.”

She pinned him with a glare. “Is this some archaic chivalry thing?”

“Yes.” For want of a better term, it was.

She leaned into him, the tip of her breast brushing his arm. “Well, you might want to get over that.”

“Katrina,” he warned on a growl.

“Because I want you, too, Reed. Very, very badly.”

His hand went lax at her frank admission. It gave her a moment to escape, and she took it.