Wedding Night With the Ranger Read Online Free PDF Page A

It was as if something had captured his insides. Had she somehow lassoed his heart? For it certainly felt as if there was a tether tugging him across the table. His gaze caught her mouth again. If he tilted sideways, their lips could touch, and he wanted that to happen so badly.
    She wet her lips and, mesmerized, he watched as if a miracle was unfolding before his eyes as she spoke. “Every Wednesday, when you ride into town, the first place you stop is the cemetery, to pay respect to your old friend, Isaiah Whitewater.”
    Colt swallowed, being strangled from the want of tasting her again. “It wasn’t—” he swallowed again “—it wasn’t just to say hi to Isaiah.”
    “It wasn’t?” she asked, her breath tickling his lips.
    “No.” He gave his head a slight shake. “From the cemetery, I can see your house. I stop every Wednesday to see if you’re home.”
    “You do?” Her eyes shimmered and held the sweetest gaze imaginable.
    “Yes, I do.” Right now, he’d give every cow he owned to be upstairs in their room instead of the crowded dining room. He knew when a woman was ripe, and Annalee was about to fall off the tree.
    Her teeth bit on her bottom lip. He licked his. She tilted her head slightly, drew his gaze up to meet hers again. “Why?” she asked.
    He didn’t answer, namely because his mind hadn’t processed her question. It had already left the dining room, was busy conjuring up all the things he would do to her once he got her upstairs to their room.
    “Why would you want to know if I was home?”
    A throat-clearing sound forced Colt to glance toward the edge of the table. The waiter, plates in hand, stood there. Annalee moved first, leaning back in her chair, giving the man room to set one of dishes down. Colt had no choice but to follow suit, and reluctantly released her hand.
    She spread her napkin over her lap and waited until he picked up his silverware before she did the same. The food might as well have been sawdust since Colt had no idea what he chewed. He attempted a few more bites, watched as she nibbled on her fare. After a few minutes he gave up the facade of eating. The visions in his head played out like a storybook, so clear and real that sweat trickled down his back.
    He reached over and lifted her hand resting beside her plate. Brushing his lips over her knuckles, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
    Her fingers grasped his tightly. “Wh-where are you going?”
    Kissing her fingers again, he assured, “Just to talk to Owen for a moment.”
    “Why?” Something akin to fear glistened in her brown eyes.
    He turned her hand, pressed his lips to her palm. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered, smiling. “Don’t fret, I’ll be right back. I promise.”
    A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she gave a slight nod. “All right.” She lowered her lashes as the hold she had on his hand relaxed.
    Colt squeezed her fingers before releasing them and rising from his chair. He strolled across the crowded room, shifting his gun belt and hoping his arousal wasn’t as apparent to others as it was to him. At the front desk he slapped a hand on the bell, and a second later, did so again.
    By the time Owen meandered out of the door behind the desk, the little bell rang nonstop beneath Colt’s fingers.
    “Criminy!” The hotel owner snatched the metal chime off the desktop. “Whatcha need, Colt?”
    “I want a bath prepared in my room. The biggest tub you got. Lots of hot water, towels, everything.”
    “All right, I’ll see to it.”
    Colt tugged at his waistband. “You’ve got five minutes to get it done.”
    “Colt—”
    He glared at the man. “Five minutes.”
    “It’ll take that long to haul the tub up there.”
    Colt flexed every muscle he could. “All right, ten minutes.”
    Owen waved a hand, but a knowing smile covered his face. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
    “Good.” Colt took a deep breath and turned to reenter the dining room.

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