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She lifted her chin. “Was that all?”
His eyes were on her soft mouth. “No good-night kiss?” he mused.
“I am not kissing you!”
His eyebrows arched. “Heaven forbid!” he exclaimed. “I was referring to the fact that Jeff obviously didn’t kiss you. Your mouth isn’t swollen.” He smiled tauntingly. “The perfume put him off?”
“You . . . you . . . !” She was searching for just the right word when he put Jarvis gently down on the porch and reached for her.
Before she could get a word out, his head bent and he was kissing her. Really kissing her. So hard and hungrily that she couldn’t fight him. She wanted to. She should . . .
Her mouth opened softly and he groaned and kissed her more insistently. She felt the shock of it all the way up and down her body, and she moaned, too.
His hands went under the open coat, to her waist, and then around her, bringing her against the length of his long, hard body. He enfolded her against him, devouring her soft, warm mouth in the cold while snowflakes drifted around and over them.
After a minute, he pulled back with some reluctance, one big hand going to her flushed cheek, his fingers tracing down to her swollen mouth as he studied the confusion and pleasure she couldn’t hide from him.
“Now you look kissed, Meadow,” he said huskily, and he didn’t smile.
She still couldn’t find words.
He pursed his lips. Like hers, they were faintly swollen. “At least now, when Jeff kisses you properly, you’ll have somebody to compare him with, won’t you?” he drawled as he moved back.
She got her voice back. “And you’ll have somebody to compare your florist with!”
He laughed softly. “She doesn’t have any competition,” he said outrageously. “She knows how to kiss.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You need practice.”
She glared at him, her expression furious. “Not with you!”
“Oh, of course not. I don’t need practice,” he drawled, chuckling.
She wasn’t touching that line with a pole. She jerked her coat closer around her, turned, walked past Jarvis, called Snow inside, and closed the door firmly, before he could follow her in. A minute later, she heard the truck start and drive away.
She looked at herself in the hall mirror and caught her breath. She was almost pretty. Her green eyes were glistening with excitement, her expression was one of absolute joy. That man! That horrible man!
He’d said that this was how she was supposed to look after her date with Jeff. He was right, although she’d never admit it to him.
It was maddening, that he’d sabotaged her date and then come down here to mock her. But why had he kissed her? It made no sense. He’d said often enough that he was in a relationship with his local florist, and he’d never made a secret of the fact that Meadow didn’t appeal to him. So why had he kissed her, and so hungrily that her mouth was still swollen?
She thought that she’d never understand him. He’d said that she needed practice. Of course she wasn’t experienced. She’d never been intimate with a man. He’d certainly ascertained that quickly enough, and then taunted her with it. He flaunted his own experience. Certainly, he knew what to do with a woman’s mouth. He was an expert. She flushed, remembering how hungry he’d made her, with a kiss that never even got really out of hand.
She’d wanted it to get out of hand. That was humiliating, to want a man that badly and have him know it and ridicule her for it.
Had he been pointing out Jeff’s obvious lack of experience with women? Well, it wasn’t a drawback to Meadow. She didn’t want a man who’d been used like a towel on a dirty dog.
That set her off and she started laughing. Dal was a bath towel. She shook her head, patted Snow on the head, and led her toward the bedroom. As an afterthought, she closed the bedroom door, discouraging the dog from going out.
“You’ll have to wake me up if you need to go potty,” she told the laughing husky. “I’m not letting you land me with Dal Blake twice in one night.”
She crawled into bed, set her clock, and turned out the lights. But she didn’t sleep until it was almost dawn. And when she finally did, Dal figured prominently in her confused dreams.
She wondered why Dal had been insistent about her going to a doctor about her clumsiness. It wasn’t as if she meant anything to him. He’d made her painfully aware of that over the years. She had considered a physical reason for her falls, but she had no real symptoms, and it looked like a waste of time to her. She was due for a physical the following month, anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to mention it to the doctor, she supposed. But it wasn’t going to be a priority.
* * *
The snow started coming down in bucketfuls the following Saturday. Meadow was off work, which was a good thing, because her cowboys were going nuts trying to feed and find cattle in the whiteout.
Meadow, concerned, actually dressed in jeans and boots and a shepherd’s coat, went to get a horse.
