Calder Promise (Calder Saga 8)

“I’m surprised his tongue isn’t hanging out,” he muttered to Laredo.

“You can say that about nearly every man who sees her,” Laredo reminded him.

With Trey looking on, Laura dismounted and managed to stumble against Boone yet make it look like an accident. But Trey saw through the act.

“You know,” He glanced at Laredo, a grimness entering his expression, “having Laura for a sister makes it hard for me to trust anything a woman says or does.”

Laredo chuckled, but Trey was dead serious.

Laura stayed against Boone, tipping her head back to look up at him, conscious of his hands clasped around her bare middle, knowing that he was equally aware of it. She laid her hands on his upper arms as if to push away, then left them there to feel the rock-hardness of his biceps.

“I had forgotten how strong you are,” she murmured.

“Funny. I hadn’t forgotten how beautiful you are.” There was a primitive quality to the look of desire in his dark eyes.

Just for an instant, she pressed herself more fully against him to make certain the feel of her body against his would be imprinted in his mind before she drew back. “I was beginning to wonder,” Laura said with a touch of coyness, “considering how long it took you to get here.”

“Then you did want me to come,” Boone stated, a cocky kind of male confidence flaring in his expression. “On the phone you didn’t seem all that excited about seeing me again.”

“A woman shouldn’t sound eager,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“You don’t look all that proper.” His glance dropped to the bareness of her middle and the navel that was exposed by her low-riding jeans.

She laughed. “That’s because I seldom feel proper around you. Besides, being proper can become boring, and I hate being bored.” Turning her back to him, Laura unlooped the reins from around the stallion’s neck and stepped to his head, then glanced back at Boone. “Want to walk along while I take The King back to his stall and unsaddle him?”

Boone looked at her with surprised frown. “Can’t someone else put him up?”

“On the Triple C, a rider takes care of his or her own horse. Only guests can get away with passing them off to someone else. It’s an ironclad rule that can be broken only in the event of a dire emergency.” Laura paused to slant him a provocative glance. “Did you think I had led a pampered life?”

“A woman like you deserves to be pampered.”

“Careful,” Laura warned lightly. “Some women might mistake a remark like that for a proposal.”

“What makes you so certain it isn’t?” Boone countered, matching strides with her when she struck out for the stallion barn.

She gave him a considering look. “It might be,” Laura conceded. “You do seem to be the impulsive type.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Oh, I’m definitely impulsive, but never rash.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Definitely.” But Laura didn’t bother to explain the distinction, choosing to change the subject instead. “So what do you think of the Triple C?”

“It’s quite a spread.” It wasn’t so much his words as his expression that told Laura he was impressed by what little he had seen.

“I’ll take you on a tour of it after I get The King settled in his stall,” she said. “And I’ll show you the horses that will be up for auction. That is, after all, the reason you’re here.” Her sideways glance invited him to deny that the horse sale was the main attraction for him.

Boone didn’t disappoint her. “It’s hardly the only reason.”

“That’s good to know. By the way,” Laura said, making another lightning-fast change of subject, “did Tara pass along the invitation for you and

Max to join us for dinner tomorrow evening?”

“She did.”

From her bedroom window Laura saw the Land Rover pull up in front of The Homestead. Even before Boone stepped out of the vehicle, she felt that little hum of excitement that came with being confronted with a challenge. She had spent much of the last two days constantly in his company, at his side, but never alone with him. It was part of her plan—to be within reach, yet out of reach.