Cherokee Baby Part 3

Julianne's jaw nearly dropped. "Youmean, an affair? You've got to be kidding." She'd slept with one man in her entire life. And she'd been married to him. "I don't do things like that."

"Think about it, Jul. s.e.x with a gorgeous stranger. It's just what you need to pull you out of this slump."

Stunned by the casual suggestion, by the sheer raciness of it, she shifted her gaze between her cousins.

"That's what this vacation was supposed to do."

Kay flashed her impish smile. "So, consider Bobby Elk an added bonus."

Dear G.o.d. "What about s.e.xually transmitted diseases?"

"You can make sure there's protection available," Mern said in her quiet, no-nonsense manner. "You can keep condoms in a drawer. Or in your purse. It's possible to have a responsible affair."

"And they sell prophylactics in the gift shop," Kay added. "This place has everything. You don't even need to go into town."

Julianne's mind reeled. Her cousins had been here all of three hours and already they'd scoped out a box of condoms and a tantalizing man to go with them.

Kay reached for her diet soda, the caffeine jolt she thrived on. "It's time you got back into life, Jul. You've been divorced for two years."

She fidgeted with the brochure in her hand, trying to get her thoughts in order. The idea of making love to Bobby Elk scared the stuffing out of her.

But deep down, it thrilled her, too.

"What if I made a play for him and he turned me down?" She'd be mortified. Crushed. Destroyed.

Kay took another swig of her soda. "Come on, Jul. He's a red-blooded American male. And he's attracted to you." "This whole thing is crazy." Julianne popped up and paced the room. Now she wanted to throttle her cousins for putting the idea in her head.

"Just think about it," Mern said.

Julianne stopped to study the blonde, noting how striking she was with her tiny waist, rounded hips and ample bust. Mern could seduce a man without even trying. And so could Kay. The brunette had a straightforward, free-spirited charm that drew men to her like magnets. No wonder they'd kept their husbands.

She plopped back onto the bed, picked up the brochure again. And when she caught sight of Bobby's name, her heart raced.

Kay finished her drink. "Let it simmer for a day or so. You don't have to rush into anything this minute."

Let it simmer? What did that mean? That she was supposed to face Bobby Elk tomorrow with s.e.x on her mind?

"Easy for you to say." Already she was panicked about what tomorrow would bring. Panicked about just seeing Bobby, let alone imagining herself in bed with him. * * * The following morning Bobby woke with a start, shaking a leg no longer there. Phantom pain, he thought. The nerves didn't know his leg was gone.

But Bobby knew. A man didn't lose a limb and suddenly forget that part of him was missing.

The phantoms rarely came anymore, so he closed his eyes, waiting out the discomfort, knowing it would eventually subside. He didn't believe in pharmaceutical painkillers. He followed a natural path and when necessary found relief with JuniperBerry, an herb also known as GhostBerry.

Ghost medicine for phantom pain. Sometimes the irony actually humored him. But not today. This frustrating morning, Bobby was in a ravaged mood.

He opened his eyes and cursed. Relaxing didn't seem to be an option, even though he knew it would help ease the pain.

He looked around his bedroom and took a deep breath. He lived in a log cabin that used to be a guest accommodation on the ranch. He'd given up the home he'd shared with his wife. Instead he stayed in a tiny place nestled on the side of a hill, surrounded by gnarled trees, flowers that sprouted on their own and long nights of seclusion.

When the phantoms subsided, Bobby rose and reached for his crutches. Carrying himself into the bathroom, he stared at the adaptations that had been made. Grab rails, a shower chair. They had been part of his routine for the past three years, but today they made him feel like a cripple.

d.a.m.n, but he hated self-pity.

He'd promised himself long ago that he wouldn't dwell on the "Why me?" syndrome. And he'd been doing fairly well. Until yesterday, until a pretty redhead named Julianne McKenzie arrived, stirring an attraction that toyed with his libido.

And made him wish, much too desperately, that his body was whole.

After his shower, he attached his prosthesis. It took all of five minutes, but he did it begrudgingly, hating himself, once again, for falling into the self-pity trap. He was a healthy man, active and strong, financially secure. He had a lot to be thankful for.

He spoke to the Creator every day, and the One Who Lives Above always listened. But this morning, Bobby couldn't find the emotional strength to give thanks.

On this bright summer morning, he felt like what he was a forty-two-year-old widower a man who'd lost his wife.

And, he added, grabbing a pair of Wrangler jeans from the dresser, a self-loathing, s.e.x-starved amputee.

He made it to the barn by6:00 a.m.and started a pot of coffee before Michael could do the damage. Checking his computer, he scanned his appointments, the riding lessons and guided tours the front desk had scheduled for him.

Julianne was his first lesson for the day.

Anxious, he glanced at his watch and listened to the coffee brew. He could handle this, he told himself.

She would only be around for a week. And he knew how to interact with his guests, how to be a proper host.

All he had to do was relax and stop thinking about the s.e.xual fury in his gut.

Ready for a boost of caffeine, he poured a cup of the European blend and settled into his desk.

The coffee tasted like heaven, and so did the continental breakfast Chef Gerard had sent to his office. The old chef,who'd trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, spoiled Bobby and his ranch hands every morning with oven-baked treats.

He polished off a b.u.t.tered scone and checked his watch again.

Showtime, he thought, rising to play his part, to face Julianne as he would any other paying guest. A week-long stay at his ranch didn't come cheap, and he owed her the courtesy of a genuine smile.

Or as genuine as he could muster.

She was already there, seated at the bench outside the barn, her spellbinding hair secured in a girlish ponytail and tied with a silky blue ribbon.

She stood and sent him a look as sweet and warm as a candy-wrapped sun.

He approached her, thinking she looked like a fairy. She had a beguiling little dimple, eyes as green as moss and freckles sprinkled across her nose like glitter. Forty looked cute on her, he decided. Bright and fresh.

"Morning," he said.

"Hi."

She adjusted the hem of an oversize denim jacket. The white blouse beneath it sported a touch of lace at

the collar and a row of tiny blue b.u.t.tons. Her jeans were a pair of comfortably worn Levi's. Her moderately priced boots looked brand-spanking-new. "So, have you ever been on a horse?" he asked, gearing up for her lesson. She shook her head. "I'm fromPennsylvania." He couldn't help but grin. "They don't have horses inPennsylvania?" She waved her hands in a flighty gesture. "Oh, of course they do. That was dumb." No, he thought. It was sweet. "I'm just teasing you, Julianne." "I know." She sent him a lopsided smile. "And you're good at it, too." He kept grinning. "You're an easy mark."

"So I can expect you to torture me with that sense of humor of yours?"

"Yes, ma'am." Having a sense of humor kept him alive, he supposed. That and his pa.s.sion for horses.

And of course, his paternal love for Michael.

He considered Julianne and wondered if she had any kids. Knowing it wasn't his place to question her, he didn't ask.

"Come on," he said, guiding her into the barn. "I'll introduce you to your mount."

He chose a well-mannered, highly trained gelding. They stopped in front of a box stall and he motioned to the quarter horse. "This is Sir Caballero. 'Sir Knight' in English. Most of the time we just call him Caballero."

"So, he's a boy."

"Yep." Amused, Bobby watched her warm up to the gelding. "A ten-year-old boy."

She tilted her head. "How can you tell?"

"That he's male?"

She glanced at the horse,then blushed furiously. "I was talking about his age. How can you tell how old

he is?"

Still amused, he flashed a telltale grin. "I knew what you meant."

"Oh, goodness." She laughed, rolled her pretty green eyes. "You were teasing me again. I'm such a

dork."

"No, you're not." She was playful, he thought. A little naive. And that girlish naivete made him want to

kiss her. To brush her lips with his, to taste the dimple in her cheek. "You're sweet."

She blinked and smiled, and the dimple imbedded even deeper. "Thank you."

Bobby moved closer and they gazed at each other. All he had to do was to lean forward and initiate the

first kiss, the first sip of satisfaction.

When she moistened her lips, a shiver shot straight to his groin.

l.u.s.t, he thought. Sugarcoated l.u.s.t.

Kissing Julianne wouldn't change who he was or what he'd done toSharon. It wouldn't restore his honor

or the broken vow he'd made to his wife's family.

It would only be a balm, temporary relief for what would never quit ailing him.

But that didn't make his desire, the hunger, any less real. "Where were we?" he asked, doing his

d.a.m.nedest to break the spell, to get back on track, to quit staring at her mouth.

"We were..." About to kiss, Julianne thought. Or so it had seemed. But she couldn't be sure. She'd been out of practice for far too long.

"We were talking about Caballero," she said, suddenly recalling where they'd left off. "About him being a

boy. And about how old he is." She turned to the horse and tried to gain control of her senses. She'd lainawake most of the night, considering an affair with Bobby. A fun, fast, fulfillingfling. "Oh, yeah." He turned to the horse, too. "First of all, he's a gelding, a castrated male."

Julianne merely nodded. She wasn't about to comment on the poor beast's castration.

"Caballero is a registered quarter horse," Bobby went on to say. "And his date of birth is on his papers.

But a horse's teeth can determine its age. The wearing surface changes as they grow older."

"That makes sense." She reached out to stroke the gelding's nose, and the horse bobbed his approval.

Bobby glanced her way and once again their gazes locked. Softly, gently. Like a breath of spring.

Her cousins were right. She did need to get on with her life. To bask in the warmth and glory of a rough,