The Rancher's One-Week Wife

She frowned. “Blake, I know you say your boss is easygoing and won’t mind, but I’m sure he’d have a big problem with me using his office.”

“There’s a writing desk in one of the upstairs bedrooms,” he said, thinking quickly. “We’ll just move over to the mansion and you can work out of that bedroom.”

“That’s even worse, Blake,” she said, shaking her head. “We can’t just move into your boss’s home.” She stared at him. “Who is this man and why do you insist on taking advantage of his good nature so often?”

He took a deep breath. He should tell her the truth. He’d boxed himself into a corner and he had nobody to blame but himself. If he told her now that he was the owner of the Wolf Creek Ranch she thought he was taking advantage of, she’d think he had been playing her for a fool or, worse yet, that he had been trying to hide his assets from her because of the divorce. But the longer he waited, the worse it was going to be when she did find out.

Deciding he needed to dial things back a little while he tried to figure out the best time and way to tell Karly he was the man in question, Blake backtracked. “You’re right. We don’t want to take advantage while he’s away from the mansion. But there’s one place that I know he won’t mind you using.”

“Where’s that?” she asked, seemingly distracted from finding out who the owner was—at least for the time being.

“There’s a table in the library just off the family room that would be the perfect place for you to work,” he said, bringing his hand up to twine his fingers in her silky blond hair. “It’s quiet in there and you won’t have to worry about anyone interrupting you or you using a room the boss would find objectionable.” He lowered his head to brush her perfect lips with his. “And when you take a break for lunch all you’ll have to do is walk down the hall to the kitchen and Silas will make you something to eat.”

Unable to resist, he gave in to temptation and settled his mouth over hers. He knew he was playing with fire and would most likely get burned by his weakness for her. But he couldn’t seem to control himself when he was around Karly. It had been that way in Vegas and it was that way now. Whenever he was with her, all he could think about was holding her close, kissing her until she sagged against him and making love to her until they both collapsed from the sheer pleasure of being together.

As he deepened the kiss, she put her arms around his neck and melted against him. Her soft curves pressed against his rapidly hardening body and the sweetness that was uniquely Karly caused his heart to thump against his chest like a jungle drum. No other woman had ever fit against him so perfectly or responded to his kiss as readily.

When she moaned softly and snuggled even closer, he realized that she felt his arousal straining against his fly. The fact that she was as hot for him as he was for her sent adrenaline pumping through his veins at the speed of light. Whatever caused her to want out of their brief marriage apparently had nothing to do with her desire for him. That was as strong, if not stronger, than it had been when they’d taken that trip down the aisle at that little chapel on the Vegas strip.

Barely able to resist the urge to take off both of their clothes and make love to her right there in the kitchen, he forced himself to ease away from the kiss. “Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to take this all the way to a satisfying conclusion for both of us, I think we’d better take a time-out.”

Her smooth porcelain cheeks wore the blush of passion and he sensed that if he hadn’t called a halt to things, she probably wouldn’t have, either. That’s when he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that there was every likelihood they would be making love before she left. And soon.

“I, uh, y-yes.” She looked a little dazed. “I’ll get flatware and coffee mugs.”

While she walked over to get the items from the cabinets, Blake took a deep breath and set the two plates of bacon, scrambled eggs and hash browns on the table, along with a thermos of coffee. How the hell could a man feel like he’d done the right thing and, at the same time, regret doing it?