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“Whatever. I warned you.” She urged Buttercup into the river and waited for Alastair to do the same with Buster. Just as he promised, Alastair took Buster into the river without hesitation. He stayed with her, following every suggestion to maneuver Buster as she gave them. Until a loud ding sounded over the gushing water. To her horror, Alastair looked at the phone. Her gut twisted, cutting off her air.
“Pay attention. Your horse needs you.” Her voice sounded weak over the roar of the river and the gusty wind that blew her hair from its ponytail.
“I just need a minute, Halle.” Alastair’s face was grim, his mouth pulled down. He’d pulled the phone out and scrolled through some message or other. After he finished whatever he was reading he shot her a huge grin and placed the phone back in its makeshift saddle holder. “Just teasing you, Halle. I wouldn’t be so stupid as to risk Bust—whoa!”
Buster’s manners, decent until now, fled as a large, fallen tree that had been swept into the river came into view not more than one hundred yards away. It appeared to be aimed straight at them. The large horse bucked and bolted across the river, as if reaching the other shore in record time meant life or death.
Alastair, unfortunately, didn’t make it to the bank with Buster. As soon as Buster bolted, Alastair flew through the air and landed with a large splash in the middle of the river. When he disappeared under the water Halle panicked. If he hit his head and was unconscious, he’d drown in minutes. She slid off Buttercup and slapped her rump. “Go, girl!”
She waded to where she’d watched Alastair’s body submerge. There was no sign of him. She stood on solid ground, able to withstand the force of the river but unable to see one flash of his clothing. Nothing but the froth of the water from the sudden uptick in current. And then his head popped up, his arms working around him in the water. Did he think he could outswim a swollen Texas river?
“Alastair!” He turned toward her and grinned. They were moments from a cold death and he was grinning like a fool. Or someone whose brain was operating in a fog. Panic rose as she realized he might already be hypothermic.
Her boots filled with water and her soles slipped on the rocky river bottom as she reached for Alastair, her fingers desperate to reach his shirt or jeans and haul him up. Instead the current knocked her against him, her entire body plastered against his in the freezing water.
Blue eyes with no evidence of the danger they were in sparkled at her. “Now th-th-this is what I c-c-call a T-Texas adventure!”
“Look at me, Alastair. Can you walk?”
“Of course.” Alastair stood up. Dripping wet, he started to shiver. Violently. “D-d-don’t b-b-be m-m-mad at m-m-me.” In spite of his body’s immediate reaction to the frigid water, his eyes were alight with genuine contrition. If she weren’t so afraid for his life, she’d find the situation comic.
“We need to get to the other side. Now!” At which point she was going to strip the wet clothes off of him, wrap him in a first aid space blanket, start a warm campfire and then kill him for his ignorance.
“D-d-don’t w-w-worry.” He leaned heavily against her and she braced her boots in the silty bottom of the river. They made their way, one step at a time. As they neared the bank where Buster and Buttercup patiently waited, the river stilled. “L-l-look, it-t-t’s all b-b-better.”
“Shut up, Alastair.”
* * *
Halle Ford had saved his life. Alastair prided himself on his inner strength, the core of his being that had gotten him through the bullying he’d endured as a grade schooler. His entire school career, actually, until he’d grown taller and his shoulders wider than those of his mean classmates. The same financial status that had blessed him with such a protected life in many ways had been his enemy then, as jealous classmates went after him with a vengeance. He’d never told his parents; he’d used his brains to outwit his adversaries and taken the punches he’d had to.
Until the school psychologist had called him in and insisted he confess to the beatings, the terrorizing episodes of being dragged out of bed in the wee hours and hung by his ankles outside of his dormitory window. His enemies had been expelled and he’d faced another uphill battle, working with the counselor to undo the years of abuse and anxiety.
He’d thought he’d survive anything after that. Scaled mountains, in fact. Yet a river in Texas had almost done him in. Without Halle, he’d never have waded out of that cold water.
“You’re okay, Alastair.” She placed her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment as she rubbed his legs. The pins and needles sensation hurt like hell, but somewhere in the icy sludge of his brain he recognized she was preventing hypothermia.
“Th-th-thanks.” The word barely made it out around his chattering teeth.
“Don’t talk. Save your energy to heat back up.” Her massage continued, and he knew that when he felt himself again he’d regret that he’d been naked under the space blanket and unable to act on the fantasies he’d had of Halle for the past couple of days.
“Here are some dry socks.” She expertly unrolled heavy hiking socks onto his feet. Wool had never felt so good against his skin. Almost as good as her warm hands, hands that had moved on to his thighs.
“I’m aiming at your larger muscle groups to get your circulation going and warm you up quicker.” Her eyes were warm chocolate as she met his gaze. The smile in them reached her lips and she winked. “Don’t worry, Alastair. You’re not the first person to underestimate that river, and you won’t be the last. We’ll have you feeling yourself in no time.”
He wondered if she knew that when he was feeling himself again it could be awkward, as he had no doubt his erection would make a prominent teepee in the aluminum fabric blanket.
Problem was, as much as wanted to make love to this woman who was rubbing him back to life, he didn’t want her to think it was all about the sex. There was something stronger, deeper here. The kind of connection that could go the distance.
Alastair let out a groan as pain shot up his leg and into his groin. He’d worry about his dick after he got all of his feeling back.
* * *
“Here, drink this.” Halle handed Alastair a tin mug of hot tea. “Take little sips.”
“L-l-l-like I c-c-c-can m-m-m-manage more.” He was still visibly shaking, his body in all-out warm-up mode.
“If you hadn’t refused to strip down and get wrapped in the blanket for so long, you wouldn’t be so miserable now.” She’d pulled him out of the water almost an hour ago. He’d all but made her wrestle him to get him to take the wet clothes off and get in the blanket. She knew he was hurting when he made no quips about her seeing him naked or about her getting undressed with him. It had been awkward for a millisecond when her skin came into contact with his, but since his was alarmingly cold, she’d switched into first aid mode. They’d lain together on top of the bedrolls, and she’d wished she could will Alastair’s body back to normal temperature.
“I can’t believe it. You could have died out there.” She allowed the heat of her tea to warm her, ignoring the urge to return to the cocoon of heat she and Alastair had enjoyed until she sensed he was out of danger. More like his erection had clued her in. It would have been too easy to make a joke about it, to ease his obvious discomfort. But she didn’t know him well enough yet. At least not chronologically. Her soul felt as though she’d known him her whole life.
“I’m better.” His eyes were half-hooded, his expression predatory. Pretty fast recovery for a man she’d thought was going to freeze to death a half hour earlier.
As he sat and sipped his tea, she set up camp. Her tent popped up and she cast a look at Alastair, next to the fire. The sun was a distant memory and the navy sky began to sparkle with countless stars. Hypothermia was a real risk. His shivering was a good sign, but he’d been in those wet clothes for too long. She’d gotten out of their embrace and put on sweatpants and socks while he’d procrastinated at putting on dry clothing.
“I think you’d better let me help you.” She sat next to him and started to rub his arms through the crinkly metallic blanket. As she worked over him, praying his blood would start warming up and that he’d be more of the Alastair she’d spent the last three days with, a terrifying thought occurred to her.
You care about him.
Impossible. She barely knew the man. And while their physical chemistry had been often palpable over their trail ride, it wasn’t enough to ensure a promise of deeper feelings. Was it?
“Thanks. That feels good.” His teeth weren’t chattering anymore; a very good sign.
“Are you getting warmer?”
“A bit, but I’m afraid you’re right. I may have waited too long to get naked.” His expression was unreadable as she stood between the fire and him, massaging his legs. Very muscular legs that no longer felt clammy. Before her hands betrayed her and moved up under the blanket to the tops of his legs, or more accurately, between them, Halle leaned back on her heels, her hands on her thighs.
“Now’s not the time to flirt, Alastair. You could have died in the river. And all for what? Your stupid cell phone?”
“While it’s my brain trust, most of the time, I wasn’t as worried about it as I let you think. I was trying to push your buttons. It was poor flirting style on my part.” His voice had lowered, returning to its usual pitch. Halle grasped his left foot and rubbed briskly at it, then massaged his arch, his toes. He groaned with relief once the initial stiffness melted away.
“It wasn’t the flirting that was off, it was your timing.” She didn’t want to reveal too much, but after seeing him so close to hypothermia it seemed silly to play coy. “Are your muscles cramping up at all?” She was on her knees, looking up at him. If the blanket moved one inch she was going to be treated to a lot more of Alastair than she’d bargained for. She’d seen his backside as she’d stripped him, had felt his erection as he’d warmed up, but had successfully kept her gaze off any private parts. The parts that she’d see if he wore a kilt.
The vision of Alastair in a kilt was a bad idea. Now all she wanted was to touch him, everywhere. More like taste him everywhere.
“Halle.” His hands were on her wrists and he pulled her off balance, forcing her up against him. They were chest to chest, the blanket the only barrier to his bare skin. Her shirt and sweatpants felt too bulky, in the way.
“You’re feeling better, I take it.” Her voice was breathy, and she didn’t care about his risk of hypothermia any longer. Not with his eyes sparking in the firelight, her insides quaking not with cold but insane desire. Shock. She had to be going into shock over the ordeal. It wasn’t every day she came close to losing a client.
“Warm me up, Halle.” His words tugged at her resolve and she swallowed, refusing to make any move.
“No. Listen, Alastair—you, me, we’re in shock. That was a close call out there. I know you think you feel better, but believe me, you need a good night’s rest and a chance to recover from your body’s temperature drop.”
“You’ll warm me up better than anything. As a matter of fact, that’s the best way to make sure I stay warm. You get naked again, and we lie next to one another. Skin on skin.”
Her desire was at a fever pitch but she was reminded of her place. And the kind of business she did not operate. She walked a few steps away and stirred the soup she’d heated over the fire. Her hands were shaking with want. Want for him.
“Drink some more of the hot tea, Alastair. It’ll raise your internal temperature.” Her voice was as shaky as her insides. Damn it. There was no way she was going to touch him, no way she could justify—
His lips touched her throat, his blanket-wrapped front up against her back as she stirred.
“Alastair, I—”
“It’s okay to have needs other than running Bluewood, Halle.” Why couldn’t he sound like he was sick, or still chilled, or unable to think straight? Why did he have to sound so sane, so steady, so sure of what would be best for her?
* * *
Alastair knew he was coming off a bit too heavy-handed, especially for a man who’d been totally at Halle’s mercy only an hour earlier. He took a step backward, gave Halle room as he stepped to her side, in front of the small fire.
“I’m sorry—that was presumptive. I wish I could blame it on the cold water but I have a bad habit of telling others what’s best for them.”
Halle stirred the dirt with a stick she’d picked up off the ground. “I get that. When you have to rely on your instincts for so long, it’s easy to think your way is the right way.”
“I don’t know you well, Halle, not as well as I’d like to. But is it fair to say that you’ve done little, probably nothing, for yourself since your father died?”
Her lids lifted and revealed the depths of pain she’d walked through. “At first I didn’t want to do anything. I think I stayed in pajamas for the first two days after the funeral. But then, then I knew I owed him more. Daddy didn’t raise me to be a slacker, and this land was everything to him.”
“You need a break. We all do. Sometimes when I’m travelling for weeks on end I plan a quick trip to a resort or island to escape. Believe it or not, I go completely off the grid from time to time.”
That got a grin out of her. And a beautiful grin it was. He loved how her entire expression lit up like the Highlands did when the heather bloomed.
“That might have been a good decision today.”
“Although, if I had, you may have never had the privilege of seeing my bum.”
“Never, Alastair?”
Halle wasn’t flirting or teasing. The heat in her eyes wasn’t a reflection of the fire, either. She was a woman boldly expressing her want, and Alastair had never been more turned on.
* * *
Halle turned toward him and didn’t know who moved first, but the tiny space between them disappeared and Alastair’s lips were on hers. He stamped her mouth with his, and her senses were on overload with his musk and the coolness of his tongue. The pent-up sexual attraction they’d fought against each and every hour on the trail had won. Halle surrendered to her desire and the relief was as sharp as her sexual response to him. When his tongue licked around her lips and insisted entry, she opened her mouth fully and took him in. He tasted as good as she’d imagined. Tea, honey and Alastair. Tea she’d given him to warm up. She pushed against his chest, breaking their contact, their gasps loud and harsh in the still Texas night.
“You could have died. Are you up for this?” They both laughed at her question. His erection, which he ground against her pulsating center, answered it.
“Outside or in your tent?” He growled the words as he sucked gently at the skin on her throat, his hands moving up and under her shirt, on her waist, cupping her breasts through her sports bra. When he tweaked her nipples Halle groaned.
“Tent. You’re still at risk from the cold.”
They half walked, half stumbled into her tent. Alastair was definitely feeling better as he pressed her shoulders onto the sleeping bag and rose above her. “I want to make love to you in so many ways, Halle. But later. This time I don’t want to wait or draw it out. I need you now. Pure and simple.”
“Yes.” Amazing she could force the word out, as turned on as she was.
“Condoms?” His Scottish accent made the request seem as gentlemanly as it was.
“In the zipper bag, here—” She reached to the small pouch in the tiny tent where she kept first aid items and condoms. She’d had clients request them, clients she’d envied who’d decided to take her trip as a honeymoon or lovers’ vacation. But she’d put them there as an afterthought, after she’d made him tea at the house. Somewhere inside of her she’d hoped this might happen. Alastair and her, together in the most basic way.
Alastair grasped the wrapper as soon as she plucked the small packet from the bag. “You’re moving awfully well for a man who was just on the brink of hypothermia.” She tried to think, tried to focus but the way he so quickly donned the protection and then lifted her head to deeply kiss her again allowed her to only think of the incredible sensations his touch brought.
“Halle.” He said her name as if she were the Holy Grail. Dispensing with any illusion of a romantic buildup, Alastair entered her in one powerful thrust and Halle met him, eager to match him, their need mutual. As they moved together it occurred to her that it had never been this natural, this raw, this perfect the first time with any other man. Not just the first time—any time with another man.
Then the delicious sensations that pushed her over the edge of her most satisfying climax ever blew any vestige of rational thought out of her brain. Alastair’s matching release, punctuated by his deep shout, was all she needed.
Chapter 4
Three months later
“Thanks for taking them in, Charlie.” Halle handed off the leather lead shanks to her ranch hand, hoping he didn’t notice her excessive sweat. She had to make it back to the house before she threw up in front of him.
“No problem, Boss.” Charlie walked toward the stables with Elvis and Buttercup. She’d already worked Buster and two other geldings. It lifted her mood to see how well cared for her mounts were. As much as Bluewood was in the red, she’d managed to squeeze out enough to keep the horses healthy.
Unlike the majority of her cattle, which she’d had to sell off to keep things running. That had hurt, but not as much as she knew the next few minutes would. Going into the house, she made straight for the bathroom as her loyal herding dogs followed her. She looked at the stick she’d peed on before her anxiety got any worse.
The plus sign stared accusingly at her. Her weight loss from the constant worry over Bluewood’s survival hadn’t left her body fat too low to warrant missing menstrual cycles. That had been her excuse the first month she’d skipped her period.
Her attempts to deny a second month without a period, however, were met with her swollen, tender breasts and her constant exhaustion. The last few days the nausea had caught up to her. So she’d done what millions of women did every year. Last night she’d purchased a home pregnancy test at the Shadow Creek drugstore. She’d left it in the bathroom overnight, in case her cycle started by morning. She’d taken the test first thing upon waking.
Somehow, the protection she and Alastair had used had failed. She was single, near bankruptcy and pregnant. No time to process it all right now, though, as her stomach did what it was becoming too good at doing.
Halle threw up.
It was time to tell the father, but she felt horrible even thinking about calling Alastair. She’d ignored his persistent attempts to contact her the first few weeks after he’d left Texas. It was a nonstarter, any kind of relationship with the sexy billionaire. Halle was a native of Shadow Creek, Texas—fun for a diversion or maybe even some real dating. Until Alastair realized his jet-set lifestyle wasn’t enough to get her out of Texas. And Halle was as dedicated as ever to Bluewood. It’d have to be as a single mom now, was all.
Wrapping a towel she’d soaked in cold water around her neck, she went to find her phone.
* * *
Alastair Buchanan frowned at his cell phone. Halle Ford had called three times in the past two days, but never left a message. Desire startled him as it slammed into his gut and made a direct line to his crotch. Halle.
It’d been such an incredible time with her in the Texas Hill Country. The sex, yes, but so much more. Her. The way she listened. He’d really thought more might come of it. He’d been ready to convince her more should come of it, that with his resources that included a private jet they’d make the miles and hours between them manageable.
But she’d never taken any of his calls, and while he was persistent, he wasn’t a stalker.
After never hearing from her for three months, the three attempts so close together seemed urgent. And they painfully reminded him of the countless messages he’d left her in the first few weeks after their time together.
Maybe she’d reconsidered dropping him like a hot jacket potato. When they’d hooked up he didn’t imagine she’d want more than their brief liaison. Not that Halle wasn’t his type, or the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. He wasn’t in a place to commit to any woman. Long-distance relationships could work, but so many thousands of miles apart made for a lot more effort on both their parts. And mostly on his company jet’s dime. The deeper, more pressing reason to stay away from any kind of relationship was that Clyde Whiskey was in peril.
He tried to refocus on his computer screen, to put Halle out of his mind. It was probably good that they lived so far apart, and if he went back to Texas it would only be to set up his investment business. Short-term. He wondered if she’d be open to seeing him when he went back, if he did. For old times’ sake. They’d been exceptionally compatible, once they’d given in to their attraction.
Halle’s incredibly sensual body and throaty moans had underscored the once-in-a-lifetime night they’d shared on the banks of Shadow Creek River, at Halle’s ranch outside of Austin, Texas. It was odd, in a way, that he’d found his thoughts drifting to the Texas land whenever the pressure of work had gotten to him these last months. And at night, when his head hit the pillow, he felt as if he missed Halle lying next to him. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He’d known her, really known her, one night. They’d spent a total of three nights and four days together. How was it possible that she’d made such an impression on him?
“Alastair, Jeremy Kincaid’s on line one.” His receptionist’s voice buzzed in his wireless earbud. Alastair tapped the accept button on his phone.
“Jeremy, just the man I need to hear from.”
“Hey, Alastair. Returning your call. What’s the holdup on the tech investment?”
His friend’s words socked him in the gut. Like him, Jeremy was never one for small talk. He didn’t want to admit what was happening with Clyde Whiskey but he wouldn’t lie to Jeremy, either. “I’m having a major problem. Someone—an unknown—is trying to gobble up shares of Clyde Whiskey.”
“Hostile takeover?”
“More like apocalyptic takeover.” Alastair let out a growl of frustration. “It’s been insane since I got back from visiting you and Adeline.” And Halle. “It’s all I can do to shore up the business. I keep putting out fires that pop up elsewhere.”
“I’ve been there, man, more than once. You’ll get through this, and trust me, no one is going to take Clyde Whiskey from you. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Nothing, not yet. I have a team on it. I hope to have answers soon. The one weird thing is that it all started while I was in Texas.” As if someone hadn’t liked the thought of him investing in tech in the area.
“You wouldn’t be the first person to have bad luck while in Shadow Creek.”
“If you’re referring to the havoc caused by that woman Livia Colton, she’s dead. She’d have no reason to come after me if she were alive.”
“Sounds like you and Halle talked about more than indigenous history of Texas out on the trail.”
Alastair remained silent. He wasn’t going to share what had happened on the trail with Halle. It was too personal.
“I’m here if you need me, Alastair. So are your investment opportunities in Austin. And let me put it out there for you—our house in Shadow Creek is always open to you. Maybe time away from your home turf would help. Clear the mind.”
“Thanks, Jeremy.” As he disconnected he couldn’t ignore the tug in his gut at the mention of Shadow Creek. If he were to stay with anyone, he’d want to be with Halle. He grinned at the realization that he’d prefer the cozy ranch house at Bluewood over Jeremy’s spectacular contemporary mansion. In a rare moment of deep reflection he admitted that he hadn’t been himself, hadn’t felt grounded in Glasgow since he’d departed Austin. When he’d left Halle Ford and his adventure on Bluewood Ranch behind.