Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn #1)(3)
Author: Ruth Cardello

The crotch of his jeans became uncomfortably tight as his body came alive with the desire to strip and join her in the shower. He could see the outline of her towel-clad body and the expanse of exposed legs behind the lightly fogged glass. In her rush to cover herself, she hadn’t taken the time to dry off. He imagined sinking to his knees and burying his face in her damp pussy. Would it taste as sweet and fresh as her lips looked? Would she throw her head back and to the side when he lifted her naked against the shower wall and suckled the full breasts he could now only see the rounded tops of? Would her smiling mouth round in a gasp of pleasure as he drove his cock into her for the first time?

He wasn’t an impulsive man when it came to women, but the throbbing need that swept through him made him want to be.

Easy, cowboy. A man can’t be blamed for where his thoughts go when he finds a beautiful, naked woman in his shower, but thinking and acting are two different things. She could be anyone, with God only knows what sort of intentions. Something that appears too good to be true almost always is. “I don’t know what made you think—”

Securing the towel chastely around herself, she stepped out of the shower. With shocking audacity, she smiled and put her hand out to shake his. “I admit I wasn’t sure if it was okay to take a shower before you came home, but I figured since I’m staying here for the summer you wouldn’t mind.”

Oh, hell no. “You’re what?”

Her extended hand wavered, then fell to her side. She took a quick step back, eyes darting past him to a pile of clothes she had stacked on the counter near the sink. “I thought you knew.”

He towered over her, more out of habit than a desire to intimidate her. Members of the press had become more creative recently in their attempts to interview him, but would they go this far? Her pale, creamy skin and pink manicured toenails warned him she’d be trouble. But damned if he didn’t care. “I’m listening.”

She looked down at her state of undress, then back at him. Her eyes were as wide and expressive as a young filly’s. “I’m not dressed,” she said.

He hoped his swollen dick wasn’t as obvious as it was painful. “I noticed.”

Emotion deepened her already dark brown eyes. A line of exasperation creased her brow. “I’m sorry you didn’t know I was coming. I’m sorry I made myself at home while you were out.” She stopped and her voice softened. “The truth is, I’ve driven a long way to get here and I’m just too tired to fight about it. I’d like to get dressed. Did Lucy come home with you?” She began to slide around him, inching toward her clothing.

He settled back on his heels a bit. “Lucy?”

“Your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister.” This pretty little woman was about as loony as they come, but a man couldn’t be blamed for overlooking that when she stood there with her skin still pink from the heat of the shower.

She stumbled back a bit at that. “Y-you don’t?” Eyes big with surprise, she chewed her bottom lip nervously. “But this is the Double C Ranch.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is.”

“And you’re Lucy’s brother, Steven Albright.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not. My name’s Tony, Tony Carlton.”

He waited for a reaction to his name, then received one he hadn’t expected. His little shower beauty rubbed her forehead with the back of one hand. He watched her and worried for his sanity as he once again became mesmerized by her movements. He should care who Steven was, but instead all he could think about was how he wanted to redirect that hand to rubbing something else, something that was craving her touch in a bad way.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t this the Double C Ranch in Mavis?”

He removed his hat and wiped the wet sheen from his forehead. The residual steam from the shower added to an overall temperature spike caused by prolonged exposure to a scene worthy of mention in a men’s magazine. “Fort Mavis.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded with real shock. Not too much amused him, but her look of horror tickled what was left of his funny bone. “We’re almost a day’s drive west of Mavis,” he added.

She went pale, and then a deep red flush started at her neck and ran straight over her face. “You feeling okay, ma’am?” he asked, and went to her side right quick. He was not about to explain to Doc how a near-naked city woman cracked her fool head in his bathroom. Desire took second seat to concern.

He was relieved when she sat on the closed toilet seat. Her adorable shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes in a childlike attempt to disappear. “So,” the little beauty groaned, “I’m in the wrong town.”

“Yes, ma’am, it sure sounds that way.” He knew he should step out of the bathroom and let her get dressed. The mystery was solved. She wasn’t a reporter or a thief. No, she was just . . . blonde. The thought had the corners of his mouth itching to smile.

Regaining some of her composure, she brought her delicate hands down, stood, squared her shoulders, and met his eyes—knocking all coherent thought clear out of his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that gas station attendant. I was just so happy that he’d heard of the place.” Her color was back to normal, but her voice was a bit strained. “Does Texas have a lot of ranches named Double C?”

“Appears we have at least two,” he said, and this time he could not restrain the lusty grin that spread across his face. She was as adorable as she was sexy, a disconcerting combination. Had she turned up the heat and come on to him, he would have lost interest—well, after sampling whatever she’d offered.

Apparently a man could only go so long without sex before he lost his damn mind, because it appeared that she wasn’t the least bit interested in him. Truth be told, as the enormity of the situation sunk in, she wasn’t paying much attention to him at all.

“I can’t believe I did this . . .” A look of self-disgust crossed her delicate features. “Oh my God. My brother will never let me live this down. Only I would drive all this way to the wrong ranch.”

She paused and her eyes widened. “The wrong ranch.” Repeating the words slowly with new emphasis. She retightened the top of her towel with hands that shook a little. “I should get dressed.”

Even though the towel concealed more than shorts and a tank top would have, picturing what lay under it was torturing him. He’d managed to clear his head of images of her writhing with pleasure beneath him, but they were clamoring to return. It was time to make a hasty exit while he still had a mind to. Mustering a nod, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.