A Way With Women. Jule McBride
when Cordy got home, they were going to have a serious talk about his working on the ranch. For now, she simply watched Macon. Just as when he arrived, he was circling the lilac, forsythia and snowball bushes, then he got into his truck and slammed the door.
Torn apart by mixed emotions, she whispered, “It’s like watching a rewinding movie.” Except a lot had happened between the past and the present, and during Macon’s short but rather eventful visit. As he’d ambled through her yard, his open shirttails had blown in the breeze as if to announce to the neighborhood that he’d recently had little use for clothes. And as he backed his truck from under the willow, he had the nerve to toot his horn as if to say he’d definitely be back for some more of the same.
Staring at the last glimpse of his red truck winking through the trees, Harper softly, solemnly vowed, “Never again, Macon McCann. I mean it this time. Never again.”
3
HARPER HAD LED HIM ON and rejected him for the last time, Macon vowed as he galloped toward the ranch office. She should have been hog-tied for meeting him at the door wearing that sinful sundress dotted with dusky bluebonnets the color of her eyes, the heavy, milk-satin breasts Macon remembered all too well straining the straps. Glancing at the new fence as he flew past, Macon added, “Guess it’ll hold.”
Harper’s dress sure hadn’t. He barely noticed the nearly full moon, or the orange and purple clouds bracketing a bloodred sun that was taking a final peek as it dipped behind rolling green hills. He was still seeing shadows slanting on her skin and thrusting his fingers into pale hair he’d left disheveled around her shoulders. He was still considering that deceptive blond-haired, blue-eyed, little-girl-next-door facade that always fooled him until he looked closer and noticed broody eyes that were too aware and a mouth that was too sassy because of her repressed need for kissing.
At least Macon had kept his cool when he left, but now he couldn’t believe his lack of willpower. How could he stop himself when her body tucked so perfectly into his, though? When the soft smoothness of her skin glided under his mouth like water? And when her incoherent whimpers cooed around his ears, begging him to burrow into wanting heat? Cursing soundly, Macon fought memories of the burning relief he’d felt as he entered her….
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