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"Come on, Mariah," he said softly, "how am I like the other guy?"
She swallowed hard. "Youll . . . leave. "
His smile fell. He looked at her wit
h uncharacteristic seriousness.
Their gazes locked. His eyes were warm gray pools of promise, drawing her in. Her heartbeat sped up. Suddenly she wanted to be touched by Mad Dog, ached to be touched by him. She wanted to reach out, unafraid, and feel the rough texture of his flesh.
Make me a promise, she thought desperately. Even if you wont keep it . . .
"Youre right," he said. "I will leave. "
Pain crushed through her, though she should have expected it. She squeezed her eyes shut. What a fool she was, wanting him to lie to her. A bigger fool for thinking—even for a second—that Mad Dog might offer something more than his smile and a touch or two. "Thank you for that, at least. "
"Open your eyes, Mariah, and look at me. "
Reluctantly she did.
They were so close she could see the tiny green flecks that darkened his gray eyes.
His breath was a whispered caress against her mouth. "Youre looking at this all wrong. "
"What do you mean?"
He reached up and pulled a pin from her hair.
She gasped quietly but didnt draw away.
His hand came up again, and again. One by one he removed the pins, until the tight little knot collapsed. A waterfall of thick, wavy hair cascaded down her arm and puddled on the grass.
He caressed the soft pool of hair for a long moment. The quiet between them grew, intensified, until Mariah thought she could hear a slight buzzing in her ears. She stared, mesmerized, as his fingers moved over her hair, stroking in a gentle circle.
Then he looked up. Their gazes caught, held. "Mariah. " Her name hung in the air between them, creating a sense of intimacy.
Mariah longed to say something in response, but she knew that if she did, if she reached out to him even that much, shed be lost.
He gave her a slow, promise-laden smile that sent feelers of warmth to the cold reaches of her soul. Leaning closer, he plucked up a stalk of grass and put it in his mouth. It was a long, crooked green line against the beguiling fullness of his lips.
Then slowly, so slowly, he drew the stalk from his mouth and dragged it across her lips.
The touch was soft and rough at the same time. Mariah was achingly, desperately, aware of it, of him. Her every sense was stretched taut, heightened to the breaking point. The simple touch to her lips sparked a dozen forbidden memories and needs.
She swallowed hard.
"I could be the best time you ever had," he drawled. "And no one would ever have to know. "
Mariah stood at her bedroom window, staring down at the bunkhouse, her arms wrapped tightly around her body to ward off an inner chill.
/ could be the best time you ever had.
Over and over again she heard Mad Dogs indecent proposal. The words chased after themselves in her mind, grinding a groove of frailty through her stiff self-control.
Every time she thought about it, she felt hot and cold and frightened and alive. She felt as if she were drowning in a warm, seductive pool of her own desires. She could barely keep her head enough above water to breathe.
"Hell leave. " She whispered the familiar words to her own rippling reflection in the glass.
Shed said the words to herself a thousand times since yesterday. At first theyd sounded strong and sure—the way she felt—and theyd given her comfort. Now they were getting weaker and weaker with each passing minute.
