“Dance with me,” he said.
Buck faced Terri and held out his hand.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak as he drew her into his arms. She was a little stiff and self-conscious at first—Buck guessed she hadn’t danced in a while. But as he pulled her close enough to be guided by his body, she softened against him, slipping into the beat of the music.
Her satiny cheek rested against his. He breathed her in, filling his senses with her sexy-clean, womanly aroma. Her curves skimmed his body, the contact hardening his arousal. There was no way she couldn’t be feeling it. But she didn’t pull away.
He’d made love to this woman, Buck reminded himself. He’d been inside her—and, damn it all, he ached to be there again. But that was the least of what he was feeling now.
How could he let her go after tonight? How could he watch her walk away, knowing that even if he saw her again, she would no longer be part of his life?
A Little Surprise
for the Boss
Elizabeth Lane
ELIZABETH LANE has lived and traveled in many parts of the world, including Europe, Latin America and the Far East, but her heart remains in the American West, where she was born and raised. Her idea of heaven is hiking a mountain trail on a clear autumn day. She also enjoys music, animals and dancing. You can learn more about Elizabeth by visiting her website at www.elizabethlaneauthor.com.
Contents
Porter Hollow, Utah
Mid-June
Terri Hammond dumped two aspirin into her palm and washed them down with the lukewarm coffee in her mug. The hand-thrown mug, a costly item that bore the inscription My Right-Hand Woman, had been a Christmas gift the previous December from her boss of ten years, Buck Morgan, CEO of Bucket List Enterprises. Its message, meant as a compliment, was a galling reminder of the way Buck treated her—as something that simply did whatever he asked, without requiring attention or praise. Something to be taken for granted.
To Buck’s credit, he’d also given her a generous bonus. But right now, it was all Terri could do to keep from flinging the mug against the sandstone wall of her office with all her strength.
No wonder she had a headache. It was nine forty-five, the day was already turning into the Monday from hell, and Buck was nowhere to be found.
The morning had started with a voice mail from Jay Mickleson, the instructor for the resort’s scheduled afternoon skydive. He’d thrown out his back over the weekend and couldn’t show up for the jump that had been booked. If Terri couldn’t raise one of the other instructors or find Buck, she’d have to do the job herself. She was licensed and certified, but it was just one more thing to add to an already hectic day—a day that was just getting started.
As Terri was about to check her email, a call had come from the nursing supervisor at Canyon Shadows Assisted Living. Terri’s ninety-one-year-old grandmother was refusing to eat again. When the aide had tried to feed her, the old woman swore at the poor girl, knocked the plate to the floor, and demanded that somebody be called to come and drive her home.
The incident would blow over just as they always had in the past, Terri knew. But she felt duty bound to show up. It was nobody’s fault that the sweet, patient woman who’d raised her after her parents died had become erratic and miserable in her old age and dementia. Her grandmother still deserved—and needed—love and attention.
While she was waiting for Bob, her young assistant, to show up and cover the calls, the phone rang again. Terri’s nerves clenched as she recognized the voice of Diane, Buck’s ex-wife, who, thanks to a smart divorce lawyer, owned a 20 percent share of Bucket List Enterprises.
“Terri? Put Buck on.” In Terri’s experience, the word please had never escaped the woman’s collagen-enhanced lips. Neither had thank you.
“Sorry, Diane, he’s not here.”
“Well, where is he? He’s not answering his cell.”
“I know. I’ve tried to reach him. He’s not answering his landline at home, either. Can I help you with something?”
“Well...” Her tongue made a little click. “You can pass this on. I can’t drive Quinn up there this week because I’m hosting a spiritual cleansing retreat here in Sedona. If Buck wants his daughter for the summer, he’s going to have to send someone to get her or come himself.”
Terri bit back a snarky retort. “I’ll pass that on.”
“Fine. Do that.” The call ended. Terri sighed as she hung up the phone. Buck’s nine-year-old daughter was a little champ. But her parents relayed her back and forth like the shuttlecock in a badminton game. Neither of them seemed to have much time for the girl.
Getting Quinn here was Buck’s problem, not hers. But it was her job to let him know. She picked up the phone again and punched in his cell number. She heard the recorded answer in the deep, sexy drawl that, after all these years, still raised goose bumps on the back of her neck.
Hi. You’ve reached Buck Morgan. I’m not available right now. Leave a message and I’ll get