The Rough and Ready Rancher Read Online Free PDF Page B

bare chest.
    â€œNo.”
    Her warm breath against his skin sent a shiver snaking down his spine and a fire burning at his gut. Damned if she didn’t feel made to fit his arms. He cleared his throat to getwords past the cotton clogging his throat. “Then why did you scream?”
    â€œI have a tendency to do that when people shoot at me.”
    â€œShoot at you? You mean, you thought…” Relieved, he couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. “That was Whiskers’s truck backfiring.” Remembering the blood, he sobered instantly and tightened his embrace. “Where are you hurt?”
    â€œMy hand. I hit it on something when I rolled out of bed.”
    Flint had a hard time concentrating on what she said. Her small, scantily clad body felt wonderful, and the intensity of his reaction stunned him. He was overwhelmingly, completely, undeniably aroused. And it had almost been instantaneous.
    He shook his head and tried to ignore his mounting desire. He had to have just set some kind of record. A man of thirty-three wasn’t over-the-hill by any means, but he for damn sure wasn’t a randy teenager with nothing but seething hormones racing through his veins. Over the years he should have gained at least a modicum of restraint.
    Distracted by his changing body, it took him a minute to realize Jenna was pushing against him. He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “Let’s see about your hand.”
    Pulling her out into the hall, he turned on the overhead light and gulped back a groan when his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Here he stood, harder than the Rock of Gibraltar, gazing down at the half-naked woman responsible for his almost painful state. Now how was a man supposed to ignore a situation like that? It would take a saint or a blind man to overlook the possibilities. And Flint was neither.
    He cursed under his breath and tried to ignore the outline of her nipples pushing at the thin fabric of her T-shirt. He normally considered T-shirts shapeless and unappealing.But this one draped her to perfection and made him want to run his hands under the hem, to expose every inch of her to his hungry eyes.
    That wouldn’t take much, he decided. The damned thing barely covered her panties and exposed enough delectable skin to send his blood pressure up fifty points.
    Sounding like the pop-off valve on a pressure cooker, he expelled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The phrase, Calf Ropers Like It Tied Up, printed across the front of the garment had his imagination running wild and his body right along with it.
    â€œWait here,” he said, his voice more harsh than he intended. He forced himself to move toward his room. It wasn’t her fault his imagination already had them all but experiencing the throes of passion. But her eyes had perused his body like a lover’s caress, and heaven help him he’d loved every minute of it.
    Jenna watched Flint walk down the hall to his room. When he turned on the light, it had taken all of her strength to keep from staring at his perfectly sculpted chest and washboard stomach. A thin coat of dark-brown hair covered muscles made hard by years of physical labor, and from his tan she would bet he often removed his shirt while he worked.
    She swallowed hard when she remembered the narrow, dark line arrowing down below his navel to draw attention to the open snap at the waistband of his well-worn jeans. Jeans that hung low on lean hips and emphasized the fact that he was all male and thoroughly aroused.
    She was only seconds away from having to fan herself when he walked back into the hall, jamming the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.
    â€œPut this on,” he ordered, shoving a robe into her hands.
    The fabric caught on a large splinter protruding from her palm, causing her to wince.
    â€œSorry,” he muttered. “Let’s go see to your hand.”
    â€œWhat about