“Then think about it.” His lips hovered closer. “And while you’re thinking, consider this.” His mouth came down on hers.
She should pull away. She should give herself more time to review the situation with cold, hard logic before she allowed him to influence her by…Oh, no…he was good at this…very good. Before she realized it, he’d invaded her mouth with his tongue. No, that wasn’t true. She’d invited him in. There had been no invasion at all, because she wanted…everything.
He lifted his head.
She didn’t want the kiss to be over, but she wasn’t going to beg him to do it again. A girl had to have some pride, which was why she wasn’t about to open her eyes and let him see the turmoil he’d created.
His breath was warm on her lips. “Think about it. I’ll come back for your answer.” There was a movement of air and the sound of him climbing back down the ladder.
Opening her eyes, she sat down on the platform and held her hand against her pounding heart. She’d never deliberately set out to have a no-strings affair. But he’d been so sweet about it.
Still, she wasn’t the type of woman he thought she was. Her answer should be no. Shouldn’t it?
LUKE THOUGHT ABOUT Naomi all the way back to the Last Chance Ranch. He was worried that he’d insulted her by the way he’d acted. The thing was, her behavior toward him had been exactly like the women he’d known in the past.
In those cases, instant chemistry had been followed by a clear understanding. Sex would be purely for fun, because the intelligent ladies he’d connected with had other things to do besides take care of a man and his ego. They’d considered him a gift because he required nothing of them but multiple orgasms.
If Naomi didn’t fit that category, he’d definitely insulted her, which didn’t sit well with him. He knew the guy to talk to—Emmett Sterling. Emmett had helped her set up out there and might give him some insight into her character.
But he’d have to be careful. He didn’t want any of the other cowhands hearing such a conversation. Luke hoped he could find a quiet moment to speak man-to-man with Emmett, but when he arrived back at the ranch he wondered if that would be possible.
Emmett, along with Sarah Chance’s fiancé, Pete Beckett, had eight adolescent boys in the main corral for a roping clinic. The boys were all part of Pete’s program to help disadvantaged youth. By living and working alongside cowboys several weeks out of the summer, they had an opportunity to learn discipline and routine.
Luke didn’t see much of either going on in the corral. Ropes flew helter-skelter. They caught indiscriminately on fence posts and people. Clearly at least one more adult was needed in that arena.
The boys had been in residence for a couple of weeks, so Luke already knew them all pretty well. Wading into the confusion was no problem for him. He called out a greeting to Emmett and Pete, who seemed overjoyed to see him.
“I’ll take these two.” He motioned to Ace, a skinny, dark-haired, tattooed boy with attitude sticking out all over him, and his unlikely friend, a pudgy blond boy named Eddie who was always eager to please. Nash had been their favorite cowboy on the ranch, but Nash was busy with his own neighboring ranch these days, so Luke had stepped in. By pulling Ace out of the confusion, Luke knew he’d remove fifty percent of the problem. Ace resisted being told what to do, but he had no trouble telling everyone else what they should be doing.
Luke brought them next to the fence. “Roping is not only a skill,” he said, “but an art.” He’d figured out that beneath the tough exterior, Ace had the soul of a poet.
“Not when I do it,” Ace grumbled.
“That’s because you’re treating it like a sport.”
Eddie slapped his coiled rope against his thigh. “It is a sport.” He peered at Luke. “Isn’t it?”
“It can be both, I guess, but when it’s done with style, it’s more than a sport. It’s an art form. Can I borrow your rope, Eddie?”
Eddie handed over his rope.
“Anybody can throw a loop and catch something,” Luke said.
“Not me,” Ace muttered.
“The trick is to make that loop dance.” Luke had always loved the supple feel of a good rope. He’d been lucky enough to learn the skill from an expert roper on a ranch in eastern Washington. Luke roped the way he made love, with concentration, subtlety and—he hoped—finesse.
But he didn’t like to show off, so he’d never demonstrated his skills to the folks at the Last Chance. Nash had known, but Nash would never have embarrassed him by making him perform on command like some trained monkey.
Ace needed a demonstration, though, because the kid wouldn’t be interested unless he could see the beauty inherent in the task. Luke built his loop and proceeded to show him. Not only did he make the loop dance, but he danced, leaping and weaving in and out of the undulating circle he’d created.
He was so involved that he didn’t realize all other activity had ceased and he’d drawn a rapt audience. He figured it out when he allowed the rope to settle at his feet and people started clapping. Glancing around, he saw that he’d brought the clinic to a halt.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the proceedings.”
“I’m glad you did.” Pete surveyed the circle of admiring boys. “You’ve just become our new roping instructor. Welcome to the staff.”
“Why didn’t you tell us you could twirl a rope like that, son?” Emmett asked. “I had no idea.”
“It never came up.”
“He didn’t tell you because he’s too cool to brag.” Ace’s hero worship echoed in every syllable. Then he gazed up at Luke, his expression intense. “I want to learn how to do that.”
“Good. I can teach you.”
“Teach me, too!” Eddie’s comment was followed by a chorus of others.
“Looks like you have a group of eager students,” Pete said. “We’ll be your assistants.”
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Luke worked with the boys. He didn’t remember he’d skipped lunch until his stomach started to growl.
As the boys were herded off to have dinner at the main house, Emmett came over and hooked an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “I’m buying you a hamburger and a beer at the Spirits and Spurs. You rode in like the cavalry today, and I appreciate it.”
“Thank you. I accept.” Luke recognized a golden opportunity when it was presented, and he wasn’t about to turn down the chance to talk to Emmett about Naomi. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and change.”
“You got it. I need to freshen up a bit, myself. I’ll bring my truck around to the side of the bunkhouse.”
Within half an hour Luke was sitting in the passenger seat of Emmett’s old but well-maintained pickup as they traveled the ten miles from the ranch to the little town of Shoshone and the popular bar. They rode with the windows down, and every once in a while they’d pass a stretch of road where the crickets were chirping like crazy.
It was one of those nights that wasn’t too hot and wasn’t too cold—the perfect night for lovers. Luke thought of Naomi, who was probably tucked into her tent right now. Before he’d ridden away, he’d made a quick survey and located that tent, a faded blue domestyle.