A Cowboy's Woman Read Online Free PDF

the metal cap on the nonalcoholic champagne. It opened up with only a hint of bubbles. He set the cap aside, removed the bag from his teeth and took a long swig of the chilled liquid. Wiping his mouth on his forearm, he offered the bottle to her.
    Greta took the bottle from him and sipped a little. It tasted like flat, flavorless soda pop. But it was cold and wet and eased the dryness in her throat and mouth, so she took several more gulps before she said, “No more talk about sex!”
    â€œHow about making love then?” Shane asked as he tore open the bag of nacho chips. “Can we talk about that?” He hoisted himself up and sat on the tailgate of the truck.
    Greta refused his offer of chips and handed over the champagne. “No-o-o-o,” she said, drawing out the syllable unequivocably. Damn but this bad boy had earned every bit of his reputation.
    â€œOkay.” Shane munched on a few more chips as the hazard lights on his truck flashed rhythmically. “But just so you know—” he paused to eye her up and down “—if you change your mind it’s okay with me.”

    â€œI won’t,” Greta said flatly. Deciding they’d dallied long enough, she headed back for the passenger side.
    â€œSuit yourself.” Shane stood up and followed her. “But just in case?” He slid inside the cab, picked up the gift bag J.P. and his wife had given them and settled it between his spread thighs. “I’ll take charge of the honeymoon essentials and have them at the ready anyway.”
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    WHEN THEY ARRIVED back at the Golden Slipper Ranch, Greta and Shane split up. He took the master bedroom; she went to the guest room. They had four hours to sleep, and both tried their best to get some shut-eye. But as their respective alarms went off around seven, they met up in the only bathroom—she in her robe, he in nothing but his briefs. Greta could easily see that he hadn’t fared much better than she had. Worse, all she really wanted to do at that point was tumble back into bed—with him. “You need to shave.”
    Shane narrowed his eyes at her. “What?”
    Greta stabbed her finger at his chest, trying not to notice what a beautifully sculpted body he had. From his broad shoulders and handsome chest to his narrow waist and lean hips, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t fit and toned and covered with suntanned skin and swirls of golden-brown hair. “You can’t go to meet our parents to tell them we’ve just gotten married looking as if you and your razor parted company three days ago.”
    Shane ran his hand across the stubble on his jaw, tracing the sexy growth above his upper lip with the pad of his index finger. Amusement glimmered in his sleepy silver-gray eyes. “How do you know how long it’s been since I’ve shaved?”
    With effort Greta kept her gaze from drifting past his
waist. “Lucky guess.” Noting he hadn’t moved yet, Greta reached for his razor and shaving cream on the sink and planted one in each hand. “Get moving, cowboy,” she ordered, taking charge.
    Shane drew a long, slow breath and to her dismay stayed exactly as he was. “Just cause we’re married does not give you the right to give orders,”
    If playing the part of the nag would help keep the roving cowboy-turned-instant-husband at arm’s length, so much the better, Greta thought. Meanwhile, she had an escapade to finish if she wanted this lesson to be a success for her parents. “Then consider it a suggestion.” Greta started to skirt past him in the narrow aisle between the sink and glass-doored shower and tub, only to have him move back directly into her path.
    Seemingly oblivious to the fact she couldn’t get past him, either front or back, Shane squirted a golf-ball-size lump of shaving cream into his palm. With the fingers of his other hand, he began spreading it over his face