LITMIR.BIZ

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the glare so she could see him.

      He seemed to be looking directly at her and she smiled. Did he smile at her? His gaze lingered a little bit and then moved on. The break in their connection was surprisingly disappointing.

      “There’s some grub waiting for you in the dining room, and once y’all fill your bellies the luggage will be in the change rooms.”

      He pointed and she turned to the beautiful log building with paned windows and a wide front porch. Rocking chairs sat at the ready and there were even hitching posts and water troughs. Just like in classic Western movies. “There you can get on your riding gear while your horses are saddled and then we’ll make our way—”

      “Um, excuse me.” Jimi raised her hand and waggled her fingers. “Did you say horses?” she blurted.

      The cowboy placed a booted foot on the mounting block. Yes, she’d ridden and knew the lingo. She’d been a fairly decent rider, having grown up with horses on the commune, but fashion and makeup were her escape from that into a new and exciting world. Far from her impoverished growing up. His smile widened and he pushed his hat back on his forehead with his thumb. He leaned over and rested his forearm on his knee. She watched every move he made. Utterly mesmerized. His jeans tightened nicely over his thighs and hips. A flash of silver at his waist drew her attention to the monstrosity of a belt buckle and her gaze drifted lower until she realized she was gaping at his—

      “You got that right, ma’am.”

      Jimi pulled her gaze away from his tempting bulge to his face and felt a flush grow on her cheeks. Had he caught her staring at his very manly package? She nearly groaned at the possibility and glanced around feeling uncomfortable that everyone was now staring at her like she’d grown a second head. She braced herself, expecting laughter to explode around her. Seemed it didn’t matter how old you were—the insecurities from childhood could rush back at the most inopportune moment.

      Squaring her shoulders, Jimi turned back to the cowboy. “I’m sorry, but I’m here for the McCain Scott wedding?”

      “You’re in the right place.”

      Her heart sank. “But this is for a destination wedding.” Jimi waved her hand, indicating the miles of meadows beyond the very neat and tidy buildings. “There’s n-no beach.” She felt her cheeks flush hotter at the scattered laughter behind her. She wished the ground would break open and swallow her up.

      “We have a beach on the property, ma’am. It’s just a long way away from here.” Not only was his drawl sexy and deep, she heard a compassion in his voice that made her feel a tiny bit better.

      “S-so, no beach wedding?” she said, and immediately wished she’d not asked the inane question which, of course, she already knew the answer to.

      He shook his head and smiled again at her. He was totally charming and sincere, giving no hint he was making fun of her. Jimi relaxed somewhat at his calm tone. “Not right now, no.”

      She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to ask any more dumb questions. God, she’d really made a mess of things. If only she’d handled the arrangements herself, not passing them off. All she knew was the wedding was in Hawaii, with most arrangements made by the bride and groom. Guests provided their details, booked their own flights and hotel for after the wedding, with the suggestion of staying at the Four Seasons.

      “In about an hour we’ll ride up to the camp. Your luggage will be in the tents when you get there.” He stood and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meal and we’ll gather at the barn across the yard.”

      Ride, tents? Jimi nearly screeched with building frustration but bit her lip. Panicked, she looked around at the other guests, clearly the only one who thought this whole trip to a Hawaiian ranch was a bad idea. The silver lining of only moments before had suddenly turned very dark and stormy.

      She wanted to bolt right back down the road they’d just driven up but, seeing the dust settle from the long-gone bus, knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Desperation overwhelmed her and she had to fight back the dread starting to set in. When tears sprang to her eyes, she was horrified. Jimi blinked furiously to stop any tear leakage that would further embarrass her not to mention smudge her mascara. She had to be here, though, for Diana.

      Jimi straightened her back and drew in a shaky breath. She had no idea how she was going to face Diana or make do without any clothes, toiletries and the like. Somehow, she’d just have to man up. Surely there would be some kind of shop here where she could get the basics until her bag arrived. Fuck.

      * * *

      DALLAS WAS AT home in the saddle, and he was happy with the posse of wedding guests riding behind him. He’d never get enough of seeing all the excited faces when they stepped off the bus. It didn’t matter how many years he’d been doing this, it never got old. Sharing his love of Hawaii, his ranch and all aspects of it was what he’d been born for. The Wilde family had been running this spread for over a century. Dallas looked at it as being a custodian of the land, honoring it as best he could. A caretaker. He was proud of his heritage and he’d encouraged his father and siblings to open their ranch to the public, to share with others. He hadn’t been wrong and their business of eco-camping had really taken flight. Only this trip wasn’t eco-camping. It was glamping. He shook his head ruefully. Glamping, of all things!

      He thought of the blonde woman. She didn’t fit the normal Broken Creek guest profile. When he’d first laid eyes on her he’d nearly forgotten his memorized speech. The wind had blown her hair across her face and she’d swept it away with slender fingers. Elegance had oozed from her and he could hardly imagine her holidaying at a ranch let alone riding a horse. That aside, he’d checked her out, from the tip of her sunny blond head, down her lean and fit body to her long and shapely legs, which he’d love to have wrapped around his hips.

      No way would she be able to sit a horse in that tight sheath of a dress. But, Lord, he appreciated how fine she looked in it. And just like that he had a hankering to see that body naked. His groin tightened imagining her standing before him with nothing on but those killer shoes. He’d never seen such a razor heel and could almost feel the sharp stab of them in his ass as if she were under him as he banged her.

      Those shoes were the damned sexiest things he’d seen in the longest time and a complete contradiction to the boots and runners on the other ladies around her. All guests were told to bring shoes or boots with heels. This siren had certainly got that wrong in such a right way, and he knew he had to defuse this growing spark of interest. She looked every bit the prima donna.

      And he made a point of keeping the divas at a good distance.

      But, still, this one mystified him. She oozed a sensuality that made his cock sit up and take notice and elegance he shied from. A poor fit for the likes of him and totally not suitable for a rough-and-tumble interlude. Now the sensuality part...that was a whole other kettle of fish. She had a frosty exterior that made him wonder if in bed she’d be just as chilly or as sizzling hot as the Hawaiian sun. Dallas felt a flash of disappointment that he wouldn’t be finding out the answer to that.

      Best he steer clear of this tempting woman, even though every cell in his body wanted to try to melt this glacial filly. She spelled high maintenance and was not worth the trouble. Not his type. At. All. But, shit, he wanted a taste of her.

      A shout from behind snapped him out of the rabbit hole he’d just fallen down. Dallas twisted in his saddle, scanned down the line of riders to make sure everyone was still doing fine. The wranglers would follow up the rear, so he wasn’t too worried about losing anyone. But having forty guests was a little out of his comfort zone. Matt, the groom, was an old university friend. It surprised the hell out of him that his fiancée had agreed to a ranch wedding. He’d never met her but had heard stories about her. Girls’ weekend away in Vegas. Jetting off to Bahamas and Paris. So this didn’t really fit the persona he’d assumed for her.

      Dallas huffed to himself, still not convinced marriage was the right thing to do. At least for him. Especially after being jilted at the altar. No sirree. Maybe,

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