Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch. Lynnette Kent
forbear commenting on his naiveté. “I haven’t seen too many famous actors buying up land in Zapata County. So why did you decide on south Texas? What made you decide to buy my…this particular piece of land? How many other ranches did you see?”
Daniel shook his head. “Not a single one. I read your ad…‘For Sale, 1000 Acres of the beautiful Wild Horse Desert in the heart of Texas cattle country. House and barn ready for occupation. Your dream is waiting!’” He pretended to slap himself, first one cheek and then the other. “That’s all it took.”
Willa gazed at him in confusion. “When did you come down to visit? Seems like I would have met…” She stumbled to a stop as he shook his head.
“I didn’t visit. I liked the sound of the Wild Horse Desert and Texas. There was a house and a barn and a thousand acres of land. I didn’t need to know anything else. I called the real estate agent that afternoon and made the offer.”
The idea of such impetuosity left Willa breathless and uneasy. “That’s…that’s a big risk, don’t you think? With a lot of money?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “My parents left me a healthy life insurance policy and some very smart investments. Sometimes you have to go with your gut instincts. And my instincts tell me that the New Moon ranch is just what I want.” He leaned toward her, holding out the pitcher. “More wine?”
“I shouldn’t.” But she didn’t draw her glass away. Yes, she was a little buzzed, but what was the harm? The kids were safe at home—she’d called to check on them and the ranch before she’d come down to dinner. And she wouldn’t be driving tonight, thanks to the storm. After two years of being in charge, of always staying in control, couldn’t she have just one carefree evening?
“Such a serious face,” Daniel said. “What are you thinking about?”
Willa shook her head, then blew out a deep breath of relief. “Responsibility, and how good it feels to let go a little.”
Daniel nodded, and held up his own wineglass in a toast. “To freedom,” he said.
Smiling, Willa clinked her rim against his. “To freedom.” They drank, holding each other’s gazes, and she felt a quiver deep inside, where nothing had stirred for a long, long time.
“Fajitas?” a distant voice said. “Enchiladas royale?”
“Dinner.” Willa broke her connection with Daniel and looked at the waiter. “Just in time. I’m…um…starving.”
“Me, too,” she heard Daniel murmur. “Me, too.”
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, WILLA leaned a shoulder against the wall as she and Daniel waited for the elevator. “I haven’t had this much to drink in years,” she confessed. “I’ll be sorry tomorrow morning.”
“Me, too.” He nodded slowly. “But sometimes you just have to cut loose, you know?”
The door beside her slid open and Willa tipped herself inside the elevator. “I guess. And you do tell some outrageously hila…hilarious jokes.”
With a line of concentration between his eyebrows, Daniel studied the elevator control panel. “What floor are you on?”
“Three.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Me, too.” After a couple of misses, he managed to stab the button. “Funny we didn’t see each other earlier.”
“Funny.” The car started with a jerk and the spin in Willa’s head accelerated. She balanced against the wall behind her and closed her eyes, which did not help, so she opened them to look straight across at Daniel. He was smiling as he looked back at her. Through the haze of alcohol surrounding them, she recognized the glint in his eyes for what it was. Desire, pure and simple. Daniel Trent was thinking about taking her to bed.
She’d been thinking the same thing about him for the past hour…or four drinks, whichever lasted longer.
Fortunately, the elevator door slid open and saved her from literally jumping his bones. Willa stepped carefully across the metal threshold and studied the sign on the opposite wall.
“My room’s this way.” She swayed to the left. “G’night.”
“Mine is, too.” Daniel followed her. She could feel him behind her, big and warm and sexy. Damn him.
Concentrating hard, Willa read the room numbers as she walked along. “This is me. 334.” She slid the key card in, took it out and turned it around so the arrow pointed in the right direction, then tried again. “’Night.”
“334.” Daniel nodded. “I’m 343.” As she looked back, he braced a hand on the wall beside her head and stood for a second just gazing at her. Reading his face, she knew all she’d have to do was ask him in. He’d take over from there. He wanted her. She wanted him. Badly.
“Good night,” Willa said distinctly, emphatically. Then she tripped into the hallway of her room, turned and shut the door in his handsome face.
“’Night, Willa,” he said from the other side. With her cheek pressed against the door panel, she heard him whistling as he moved further down the hall, toward 343. The whistling stopped, and she could visualize Daniel focusing on getting the key card into the slot correctly.
“Damn.” He said the word softly, but with feeling. In another second, he swore again…and again, with more force.
Willa opened her door and peered down the hall. Daniel stood at the very end, next to the emergency exit, jabbing his key card into the lock.
He glanced back her way. “It won’t open.” Growling low in his throat, he raised a fist to pound on the door. “Dammit, the damn key won’t work.”
As he drew back his arm for another round of pounding, the door panel flew open. A short, round-bellied, gray-haired man stood on the threshold in a T-shirt and red plaid boxer shorts. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Daniel barely managed to avoid punching the guy in the face. The effort sent him staggering backward, up against the opposite wall. “This is my room!”
“This damn sure isn’t your room. And if you don’t shut up and get out I’m going to call security and the cops!” The door slammed shut.
Daniel closed his eyes and dropped his spinning head back against the wall. “Why is he in my room? Where am I gonna sleep?” He hadn’t been drunk in a long, long time. He hadn’t been this frustrated in even longer.
Cool fingers closed around his wrist. “Come on,” Willa said as he opened his eyes. “You can call the front desk from my room and find out what’s going on.”
Her touch soothed him like a soft salve on a hot burn. Blowing out a deep breath, Daniel followed without argument. Inside her dimly lit room, he dropped to sit on one of the beds and punched O on the phone. “This is Daniel Trent. I’m trying to get into my room—my key won’t work and there’s a guy already in there. What’s going on?”
A bored voice asked, “What room number is that, Mr. Trent?”
“My room. 343. Why is there someone else in my room?”
After a pause, the voice said, “Um…that’s not your room, Mr. Trent. You’ve mistaken the number.”
Daniel swore. “Well, what’s the right number?”
Another hesitation. “I can’t tell you that over the phone, Mr. Trent. If you’ll come down to the front desk and produce some I.D., we’ll be happy to give you the room number.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. It’s just a room. Tell me the number and let me go to bed!”
“I can’t do that without being certain of who you are. Our guests’ security—”
Daniel grunted and hung up the phone. “Great. I have to go back downstairs and