“Did you see or hear someone?” he asked, cradling her to his bare chest.
“No.”
Her warm breath against his skin sent a shiver snaking down his spine and a fire burning at his gut. Damned if she didn’t feel made to fit his arms. He cleared his throat to get words past the cotton clogging his throat. “Then why did you scream?”
“I have a tendency to do that when people shoot at me.”
“Shoot at you? You mean, you thought…” Relieved, he couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. “That was Whiskers’s truck backfiring.” Remembering the blood, he sobered instantly and tightened his embrace. “Where are you hurt?”
“My hand. I hit it on something when I rolled out of bed.”
Flint had a hard time concentrating on what she said. Her small, scantily clad body felt wonderful, and the intensity of his reaction stunned him. He was overwhelmingly, completely, undeniably aroused. And it had almost been instantaneous.
He shook his head and tried to ignore his mounting desire. He had to have just set some kind of record. A man of thirty-three wasn’t over-the-hill by any means, but he for damn sure wasn’t a randy teenager with nothing but seething hormones racing through his veins. Over the years he should have gained at least a modicum of restraint.
Distracted by his changing body, it took him a minute to realize Jenna was pushing against him. He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “Let’s see about your hand.”
Pulling her out into the hall, he turned on the overhead light and gulped back a groan when his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Here he stood, harder than the Rock of Gibraltar, gazing down at the half-naked woman responsible for his almost painful state. Now how was a man supposed to ignore a situation like that? It would take a saint or a blind man to overlook the possibilities. And Flint was neither.
He cursed under his breath and tried to ignore the outline of her nipples pushing at the thin fabric of her T-shirt. He normally considered T-shirts shapeless and unappealing. But this one draped her to perfection and made him want to run his hands under the hem, to expose every inch of her to his hungry eyes.
That wouldn’t take much, he decided. The damned thing barely covered her panties and exposed enough delectable skin to send his blood pressure up fifty points.
Sounding like the pop-off valve on a pressure cooker, he expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The phrase, Calf Ropers Like It Tied Up, printed across the front of the garment had his imagination running wild and his body right along with it.
“Wait here,” he said, his voice more harsh than he intended. He forced himself to move toward his room. It wasn’t her fault his imagination already had them all but experiencing the throes of passion. But her eyes had perused his body like a lover’s caress, and heaven help him he’d loved every minute of it.
Jenna watched Flint walk down the hall to his room. When he turned on the light, it had taken all of her strength to keep from staring at his perfectly sculpted chest and washboard stomach. A thin coat of dark-brown hair covered muscles made hard by years of physical labor, and from his tan she would bet he often removed his shirt while he worked.
She swallowed hard when she remembered the narrow, dark line arrowing down below his navel to draw attention to the open snap at the waistband of his well-worn jeans. Jeans that hung low on lean hips and emphasized the fact that he was all male and thoroughly aroused.
She was only seconds away from having to fan herself when he walked back into the hall, jamming the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.
“Put this on,” he ordered, shoving a robe into her hands.
The fabric caught on a large splinter protruding from her palm, causing her to wince.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Let’s go see to your hand.”
“What about Ryan?” she asked, belting the robe.
Flint took her by the elbow to usher her toward the stairs. “His room is on the other side of the house. I was checking on him when you screamed. He’s so active during the day, by bedtime he could sleep through an all-out war.”
When they entered the office, Jenna sat in the chair across from Flint’s desk and held her hand out for his inspection. “It’s just a splinter. No big deal.”
He whistled low. “It looks like a log.” Retrieving the first aid kit from his desk, Flint took her hand in his. He examined the wound, his large hand dwarfing hers. She knew she shouldn’t, but she liked the contrast.
“Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” he asked, his attention on her hand.
“I make sure I keep all my immunizations current.” His hands engulfed hers as he worked to remove the splinter and she wondered how they would feel caressing her—
“Ouch!” Her erotic thoughts shattered when he continued to probe for any traces of wood he might have missed. “What are you trying to do, McCray? Drill for oil?”
He poured hydrogen peroxide over the area, applied an antiseptic ointment, then wrapped her hand in gauze. “I think I got it all, but it’ll probably be sore for the next few days.”
Jenna glanced up when he continued to hold her hand. Their gazes locked and the charge of excitement coursing between them took her breath. When he took an antiseptic pad and sponged the blood from her cheek, she wondered if she’d ever breathe again. Shaken by the feel of his hand caressing hers, the gentleness he displayed wiping her face, she jerked her hand from his.
“Why do I get the idea you wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had fired shots at us?” she asked, cursing her breathless tone.
Jenna settled back into the armchair to focus her attention on Flint. She wasn’t going anywhere until she had an explanation. Besides, at the moment, she seriously doubted her legs would support her.
“You might as well tell me what’s going on. I have a right to know.”
“It’s none of your business.”
She jerked her thumb toward the door. “What happened upstairs just made it my business. You weren’t altogether sure I hadn’t seen someone. If I’m going to have to be looking over my shoulder, I’d like to know why. It’s something I don’t take lightly.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I don’t think you do, either.”
Flint slumped into the chair behind his desk and ran a weary hand over his face. If their positions were reversed, he’d be pounding on the desk, demanding an explanation.
But her calm demeanor unsettled him, and suspicion began to cloud his mind. Could Jenna already be familiar with the situation? Was she somehow involved in stealing his cattle? Why hadn’t she been hysterical when she thought someone was shooting at her? Nicole would have been. Hell, his ex-wife went off the deep end when she broke a fingernail.
“We’ve had some trouble with rustlers,” he stated, watching for her reaction.
“Spreads the size of the Rocking M will always be targets of cattle thieves,” she said. “But rustlers usually steer clear of a ranch headquarters. Besides, stealing cattle is one thing. Prowling around an occupied house is an entirely different matter. And that’s exactly what you thought had happened.”
“It’s just been the past couple of days that things have started getting ugly.” He searched for any indication she might be aware of the situation. When he found none, he continued, “Last night they castrated a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bull.”
She sat forward, her eyes wide. “Why wasn’t an animal that valuable closer to the house?”
“He was. Somehow he managed to get through two locked gates and across a six-hundred-acre pasture.”
“He had help,” she said