Brady was Maura’s youngest brother had worked as the chief deputy to Lincoln County’s sheriff, Ethan Hamilton. Earlier this afternoon, when Maura had gotten the call that he’d been wounded, she’d left the ranch at breakneck speed and with a litany of prayers passing her lips, sped to the hospital. The ordeal had drained her, but now, seeing Quint was refueling her with happy pleasure.
Shoving a hand through her hair, she pushed the disheveled strands away from her face. “Yes, unfortunately. Some of the men in the department had set up a drug sting and things went amiss when one of the dealers smelled a rat. He pulled out a gun and began shooting. Brady’s arm was hit with a small caliber bullet, but thankfully it was a flesh wound and should heal in a short time.”
She walked over to the table, where Quint already had a chair pulled out for her. As he helped her into it, his closeness shook her, reminded her that she’d spent the past several nights lying awake thinking about him and the way he’d made love to her in such a thorough, precious way.
“That’s good to hear,” Abe said. “Lord knows that brother of yours earns his money the hard way.”
Maura smiled at the old man. “Being a deputy is what he loves to do. Like I love nursing you.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Have you been feeling okay while I was gone?”
He grinned at her. “If I felt any better I’d have to go out and jump a fence. And Quint here showed up to keep me company. That’s somethin’ that don’t happen every day.”
At the opposite end of the table, Quint cleared his throat. “We were just having a little supper, Maura. Would you like a plate? Something to drink?” he asked.
She wanted none of those things. She simply wanted to be in his arms, to feel herself all wrapped up against his hard body, his lips moving against hers. Oh my, oh my, what had this man done to her? She was sex-crazed, but only one certain man would do.
“No thanks. Before I left the hospital, I had something with Bridget and my grandmother.”
“Kate was there?” Abe asked with surprise.
Maura smiled to herself. From time to time Abe had brought up the subject of Maura’s grandmother, Kate. It was obvious he was interested in the woman, but she doubted he’d ever admit it, especially to Kate. If anything, Kate was even bolder spoken than Abe. Sparks would fly if the two of them ever got together.
“Dad couldn’t keep her away. She’s always been especially close to Brady. Maybe because he’s the baby and much more like her than any of us. But everything is under control and when I left the hospital the rest of my family were heading for home.”
“That’s good,” Abe said, then abruptly rose to his feet. “Well, that’s about all I can eat right now. I’m gonna head down to the bunkhouse and see if Jim’s up to a game of poker. Damn man skinned me for thirty dollars last night. I gotta win it back.”
“It’s dark outside,” Quint warned him. “You’d better drive.”
“I know how to get to my own bunkhouse,” he muttered as he disappeared out the door.
Bemused by the old man’s quick departure, Quint said, “What’s wrong with him? He always wants coffee after he eats.”
“From what he tells me, Jim always keeps a pot going on the stove,” Maura reasoned.
“Well, the way he scooted out of here, you’d think he wanted to leave us alone,” Quint said, then leveled a suggestive look at her. “What do you think?”
Heat swept through her body, making it feel like her cotton dress was actually a heavy woolen coat. Refraining from fanning herself, she rose to her feet and began to gather Abe’s dirty dishes.
“Clearly,” she said as she carried the things over to the sink.
Not bothering with his own dishes, Quint left the table and walked up behind her. As he slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to the back of her neck, he said in a voice muffled by her skin, “I think the old man needs psychotherapy. He says he loves you.”
She didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she asked, “Are you saying a man has to be mentally ill to love me?”
The coolness in her voice told him he’d gone at this all wrong. “No. But Gramps is eighty-four.”
“So. You don’t think you’ll be capable of loving at eighty-four?”
Hell, he wasn’t sure he was capable of loving a woman at twenty-nine, he thought. These past years since his break with Holly he’d tried to get close to other women, tried to recapture that blissful state of mind he’d had with his first sweetheart. But the most he’d experienced was a cold sweat, a sick repulsion at the idea of handing any woman the reins to his future.
Quint figured by the time he reached Abe’s age, his heart would more than likely be as hard as a piece of granite. Maybe it was now, he thought bitterly. Maybe Holly had turned him to stone and he’d never be able to love again.
Lifting his head, he answered, “Not a woman fifty years my junior!”
Twisting around, she slipped her arms around his midsection and linked her hands behind his back. “Oh, Quint,” she said with a soft laugh, “Abe loves me as a daughter.”
Her laughter was all he needed to lighten his thoughts and he smiled at her. “I suppose you’re right. I just don’t want his old heart broken.”
As for his own heart, Quint wasn’t worried about that. After all, a piece of rock wasn’t capable of getting all soft and soppy and vulnerable.
“I was surprised to see you here tonight,” she said huskily.
“Why? I told you on the phone that I’d see you soon.”
The husky note in his voice sent a shiver of anticipation down Maura’s spine. “That could mean anything. And you’ve been very busy.”
“Jake and I have finally started stocking the ranch and for the past week, we’ve been moving cattle and horses from dawn ‘til dusk. I’ve hardly taken time to eat.” His hands gently framed her face. “But—oh, honey, you ought to know I’ve been going crazy to be with you again.”
She sighed. “I’ve been wanting to see you again, too.”
He bent his head and his lips wrapped desperately over hers. The force of his kiss rocked her head backward and she moaned as her hands reached for the anchor of his shoulders.
In spite of the overhead lighting, his kiss was tugging her down into a swirling darkness where there was nothing but his hands sizzling over her skin, his mouth demanding, yet at the same time giving.
When their lips finally broke apart and his forehead was resting against hers, she sucked in ragged breaths and attempted to calm her racing heart.
“This is crazy, Quint!”
“Yeah. But a good kind of crazy.”
He pressed his lips across her forehead, then along one cheekbone, while goose bumps danced over Maura’s skin.
“The way I want you is indecent,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be making me feel like this.”
Her head tilted sideways as his lips began a downward trail on the side of her neck, then paused against the throbbing vein at the juncture of her shoulder.
“I’ve got to make love to you, Maura.”
“Yes.” The word floated out on a sigh.
His lips began working their way back up her throat and toward her lips. Aching with need, Maura’s hips shamelessly arched into his.
“Not here—not in your grandfather’s house,” she uttered with dismay.
Groaning