AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Regan nodded and went back to washing. Her solemnity pulled at Portia’s heart but they finished the rest of the task in silence.
Seated in her office while waiting for Kent to join her, Portia thought back on her sister’s words and on the incident at the woodpile. What’s wrong with me? She was twenty-seven years old, far past the age of being rendered mindless by a man, yet here she sat. Granted Kent was more handsome than a man had a right to be, but what she sensed about him beneath the surface was attractive as well. He was funny, treated her respectfully, and unlike some of the other men she knew, he didn’t think her odd or less than a woman for managing the hotel. In fact, he seemed quite impressed by her business sense, and during the party, he’d even brought her a piece of cake. A small thing yes, but it had been a kind gesture nonetheless. However, she had life planned out with the goal of forming her own bookkeeping business at some point in the near future, and a man wouldn’t be penciled into the ledger, no matter how tempting she thought him to be. Having always prided herself on approaching difficult situations head-on she spent a few moments mulling over her options. It occurred to her that her thoughts about children building up an immunity to the pox might be a solution. Maybe if she asked him to kiss her, it would feed her attraction enough to bring about a cure for what ailed her. Lord knew she needed one because she’d never wanted to lick a man’s mouth before in her life. Her mind slid back to the image of the water trailing sinuously down corners of his lips and when her senses rose again, she hastily forced the image away. Yes, she needed a cure because the sooner she did away with this distracting attraction the better off she’d be.
Kent assumed that when he and Portia met to talk about the dude ranch, she would sit behind her desk, tell him what he needed to know, and send him on his merry way, but he wanted to spend some time with her, preferably away from her office. Even though he was supposed to be keeping his distance, he wanted to know her better. He was intrigued by both her beauty and the intense smarts underneath. She was no meek wallflower waiting to be picked and he liked that, too. He wondered if she’d be agreeable to talking outside. There were still a few hours of daylight left and they could conduct their business at one of the tables. That way he could enjoy her along with the view of the mountains and the cooling breeze. He might even be able to make her smile. He got the impression she didn’t share her smile much outside of family, so when he stuck his head in her office, he asked, “How about we talk outdoors? It’s too nice an evening to be cooped up inside.” He saw her hesitate.
She finally responded. “Sure, okay.”
Outside, they sat at the table opposite each other. As he savored the sight of her and the sounds of the breeze playing against the leaves, he said, “This is much better than being inside, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“So, tell me what I need to know.”
Rhine had already given him a brief explanation of how the dude ranch worked, but Portia’s was more detailed. In truth though, only part of him was listening because the others were wondering how she’d react if he kissed her, what scent she wore hidden beneath the high collared blouses she favored, and how he might go about achieving answers to those questions.
“Kent? Are you listening?”
“Sorry. Got distracted there for a moment. Did you ask me something?”
“Yes. Do you know any stories about outlaws, ghosts, or lost gold? It’s something the guests look forward to around the campfire during supper.”
“I do.”
The look on her face said she didn’t believe him.
“Do you know the ‘Legend of La Llorana’?”
“No.”
He deepened his voice and slowed the cadence. “A woman in white drags helpless children to a screaming watery death.”
She looked so startled he almost smiled. “Or, I could tell the story of the hell dogs of Eldorado where large ferocious ghost dogs haunt the abandoned mines in Nevada. You can hear them dragging their chains, but you never see them.”
He continued. “El Muerte, the headless horseman. He rides the plains of Texas with his severed head hanging from his saddle.” He grabbed her arm and she jumped.
“Stop that,” she demanded with a laugh. She studied him for a long moment. “How many stories like that do you know?”
He enjoyed surprising her again. “A fair amount. I worked on a spread in Montana and there was an old cook who had more tales than a porcupine has spines. He kept us entertained on the long winter nights. Impressed?”
“Yes. That’s just the type of story the guests will want. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I like impressing you. Only because it seems most men don’t. Impress you I mean.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
Caught off guard, he froze. “I’m sorry. I must’ve misheard you. Say that again.”
She looked irritated. “I want you to kiss me.”
“May I ask why?”
“I need to cure myself of whatever these feelings are I’m starting to have for you, and don’t ask me what feelings. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said as he studied her gorgeous ebony face. She looked so put out he wanted to smile but kept his features bland. “Have you ever been kissed before?”
“No.”
“Then I should warn you that this probably won’t cure you, Duchess. In fact, it might make matters worse.”
