LITMIR.BIZ

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should have changed before I came home, but—”

      “I’m glad you didn’t.”

      They stood like that for a moment, in the waning light of dusk—the beautiful saloon girl and the...

      What? Who was he, really? A British royal—or a polished, stuffed toff?

      Right this minute, though, it seemed that the only answer that really mattered was the one Amber could give him. And as the silence enveloped them, the layers of his facade—some gold, perhaps most gilded, but all of them carefully erected over the years or maybe even the centuries—seemed to slowly peel away.

      The sounds and scents of the Texas ranch in the evening set an interesting stage for an intriguing fantasy that was building by the minute. And in spite of his social standing, his upbringing and his better judgment—which he couldn’t seem to fall back upon—a question rolled out of his mouth. “Is there someplace where we can be alone?”

      Amber gazed at him with soulful eyes, and as she did, something passed between them—although he’d be damned if he knew what it was, since he’d never experienced the like.

      “Gram and Elmer are in the house,” she said, “but there is somewhere close by where we can talk in private, although it’s not suitable for royalty.”

      “I’m not royalty. I’m just...Jensen.”

      And tonight, that’s exactly who he was.

      Amber took his hand and led him to the barn. Once inside, she turned on the light. “There’s no one around to see us in here—other than the horses. And I can assure you that they won’t gossip or take photo ops.”

      “That’s a relief.” He led her over to a hay bale, and they took a seat. But once they did, things turned awkward.

      When he’d mentioned getting her alone, he hadn’t meant to sit and talk. And doing any more than that in a barn...well, it just didn’t need contemplating.

      He had no idea what to say, other than how utterly beautiful she was—and how just looking at her gave him an out-of-body experience. Bloody hell, it was an out-of-this-century experience, as well.

      To get things back on an even keel, he said, “I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in Horseback Hollow. My mother wants me to stay until after the weddings in February, but I have business obligations back home.”

      “Yes, you said that the other night. Is that what you came to tell me?” she asked.

      “No, it’s not.” Perhaps he should be honest. “I came because I thoroughly enjoy being with you. I lo—I like your wit, your sense of humor, your spunk. And you’ve made my time in Horseback Hollow most pleasant.”

      “Pleasant? I hope that’s more complimentary in London than I’m taking it about now.”

      “I’m sorry for the language barrier we seem to have, but yes, I find myself thinking of you at all times of the day and night. And when I do, those thoughts make me smile.”

      “I’m glad to hear that, Jensen, because I feel the same way. When I first met you at Quinn’s house the day after Christmas, I didn’t like you. And I thought we’d have issues if we ever met again. But I actually like tangling with you.”

      He laughed. “Tangling, huh?”

      “Yep.”

      They sat there for a moment, side by side on the hay. Then he reached out, took her hand and felt the work-roughened palm he’d come to admire.

      “Is that why you wanted to be alone? So you could tell me that?”

      He pondered the wisdom of pure honesty, but only for a moment. The lack of pretense was what he liked best about his relationship with Amber. And yes, it had become more than a friendship lately, although he wasn’t entirely sure how much more.

      “Actually,” he admitted, “I wanted us to be alone so I could tell you that I wouldn’t mind...”

      He’d never been at a loss for words with women before, but this was different. Amber was different. And not in the most obvious of ways.

      “You wouldn’t mind what?” she asked.

      Now it was his turn to grin. “Tangling with you tonight.”

      At that, she turned to him, her lips parting. “You want to argue and banter?”

      “No, not at all. I didn’t mean sparring verbally.” He brushed a kiss across her lips—lightly, tentatively. “There are other ways to tangle. Like this.”

      “When put that way, I’d be agreeable to tangling with you.” She broke into a pretty grin, transforming the saloon girl into a... Hell, he wasn’t sure what, exactly, but princess certainly came to mind.

      “This barn wouldn’t be conducive to what I’d actually had in mind,” he said, “but if you give me a little time, I’ll plan a romantic evening. That is, if you don’t mind a temporary fling with a man who finds you an amazing, intriguing and delightful woman.”

      With that, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m up for a temporary tangle, even though I’m not into one-night stands or casual affairs. But I’ve come to care for you, Jensen. And because we live in different worlds, there doesn’t seem to be any other way for us to see where our kisses might lead.”

      “So you’d be okay with a no-strings attached affair?”

      “To be honest, if you leave town and I never see you again, I’d always regret not knowing what we might have shared—even if it’s just a one-time thing.”

      “Then I’ll find us a perfect romantic getaway.”

      “No need to do that. I have one available—right here, right now.”

      In a dirty, dusty barn? Surely she wasn’t serious.

      But when she placed her hand on his cheek, he realized that she was indeed serious. And with that gentle touch, the slight roughness of her palm uncovered a raw desire that sent his hormones soaring and his blood racing, and he realized he’d agree to anything she suggested.

      “Come with me.” She stood and took his hand, walking toward a ladder that led to the hayloft.

      As Amber led Jensen up the steps, as he watched the sway of her hips, he was glad that he’d thought to bring a condom with him. Not that he planned to have need of one tonight, but he didn’t take chances. And he’d...well, he’d hoped something like this would happen, although he’d never expected to have a saloon girl suggest that they make love in a hayloft.

      Still, he found the whole idea rather exciting.

      When they reached the top rung, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Several quilts had been spread over the hay-littered flooring near a rickety nightstand that held a battery-operated lantern and a portable radio.

      For a moment, he had to wonder if she’d been expecting him and had planned to invite him to join her here all along.

      “I haven’t been up here in a year or longer,” Amber said, “so it might be a little dusty. But it’s comfy.”

      Rodeo posters of cowgirls lined the walls, and a small bookshelf held several paperbacks and a stack of magazines.

      “This was my hideout when I was a teenager. I used to come up here to read and think. And often just to dream.” She shrugged, then strode over to the nightstand and turned on the lantern, as well as the radio, which played the sounds of soft rock. “It might not seem like much to you, but it was a castle in a faraway land to me back then.”

      “It looks pretty special to me now.”

      And so did she.

      As they stood in the hayloft, in the yellowed glow of the old lamp, he felt rather heroic, like a Western sheriff who’d fought the bad guys and returned to town after earning the right to woo

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