Harden

Chapter 10

Miranda hesitated in the doorway of their hotel room. It really hadn’t occurred to her that they’d be given anything except a room with double beds. But there, dominating the room with its ocean view, was a huge king-size bed.

“We’re married,” Harden said curtly.

“Yes, of course.” She stood aside to let the bellboy bring the luggage in and waited while Harden tipped him and closed the door.

She walked out onto the balcony and looked out over the Gulf of Mexico, all too aware of Harden behind her. She remembered the night at the bridge, and the way he’d rushed to save her. Presumably her action—rather, what he perceived to be a suicide attempt—had brought back unbearable memories for him. Suicide was something he knew all too much about, because the love of his life had died that way. Was it all because of Anita? Was he reliving the affair in his mind, and substituting Miranda? Except this time there was no suicide, there was a marriage and a happy ending. She could have cried.

Harden misattributed her silent brooding to her own bitter memories, so he didn’t say anything. He stood beside her, letting the sea air ruffle his hair while he watched people on the beach and sea gulls making dives out of the sky.

He was still wearing the gray suit he’d been married in, and Miranda was wearing a dressy, oyster-colored suit of her own with a pale blue blouse. Her hair, in a chignon, was elegant and sleek. She looked much more like a businesswoman than a bride, a fact that struck Harden forcibly.

looking up at the other man.

Evan didn’t answer him. His size was his sore spot, and Connal had been away long enough to forget. He turned back to Harden. “Did you ever get in touch with Scarborough about that shipment that got held up in Fort Worth?”

“Yes, I did,” Harden said. “It’s all ironed out now.”

“That’s a relief.”

The men drifted back to business talk, and Pepi and Miranda played with the baby until Theodora rejoined them. Dinner was on the table shortly, and all the solemnity died out of the occasion. Miranda couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed anything more.

Harden noticed how easily she fit in with his family, and it pleased him. She might not be the ideal ranch wife, but she was special, and he wanted her. They’d have a good marriage. They’d make it work. But one thing he did mean to do, and that was to show Miranda how to ride a horse. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he was going to ease her onto a tame horse and coax her to ride with him. Once she learned how, she was going to love it. That would get one hurdle out of the way.

The rest would take care of themselves. He watched Miranda with an expression that would have knocked the breath out of her if she’d seen it. The flickering lights in his pale blue eyes were much more than infatuation or physical interest. They were the beginnings of something deep and poignant and real.

body, but the porch was too dark to suit him. He stood up with Miranda in his arms and moved toward the settee against the wall, where the light from the living room filtered through the curtains onto the porch.

“Where are we going?” Miranda asked, dazed by the force of her own desire.

“Into the light,” he said huskily, “I have to see you.” He sat down with Miranda in his arms, turning her so that he could see her breasts. “I have to look at you…Yes!”

“Harden?” She barely recognized her own high-pitched voice, so shaken was she by the look on his face.

“You’re beautiful, little one,” he whispered, meeting her eyes. His hand moved and she shivered. His head bent to her mouth, brushing it tenderly. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“The same thing you do to me, I hope,” she whispered. Her body arched helplessly. “Harden,” she moaned. “Someone could come out here. Oh, can’t we go somewhere…?”

He caught his breath and looked around almost desperately. “Yes.” He got up and buttoned her deftly back into her dress, only to catch her hand and lead her along with him. His mind was barely working at all. Nowhere in the house was safe, with that crowd. Neither was the barn, because two calving heifers were in there, being closely watched as they prepared to drop purebred calves.

His eyes found his car, and he sighed with resignation as he drew Miranda toward it. He put her inside and climbed in with her, turning her into his arms the instant the door was closed.

tongue eased gently past her teeth.

He felt her gasp even as he heard it. His hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb tenderly touching the corner of her mouth while his lips brushed it, calming her. She trembled. He persisted until she finally gave in, all at once, her soft body almost collapsing against him. His tongue pushed completely into her mouth and she shivered with passion.

The slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue was so suggestive, so blatantly sexual, that it completely disarmed her. She hadn’t expected this from a man she’d only met the day before. She hadn’t expected her headlong reaction to him, either. She couldn’t seem to let go, to draw back, to protest this fierce intimacy.

She moaned. The sound penetrated his mind, aroused him even more. He felt her legs trembling against his blatant arousal, and he forced his mouth to lift, his hands to clasp her waist and hold her roughly away from him while he fought for control of his senses.

Her face was flushed, her eyes half closed, drowsy with pleasure. Her soft mouth was swollen, still lifted, willing, waiting.

He shook her gently. “Stop it,” he said huskily. “Or I’ll have you right here, standing up.”

She stared up at him only half comprehending, her breath jerking out of her tight throat, her heart slamming at her ribs. “What…happened?” she whispered.

He let go of her and stepped back, his face rigid with unsatisfied desire. His chest heaved with the force of his breathing. “God knows,” he said tersely.

“I’ve…I’ve never…” she began, flustered with embarrassment.

There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m flat-chested,” she said without thinking.

Which was a mistake, because he immediately glanced down at her bodice with a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. “Somebody ought to tell you that men have varied tastes in women. There are a few who prefer women without massive…bosoms,” he murmured when he saw her expression. “And you aren’t flat-chested.”

She swallowed. He made her feel naked. She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window again.

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Well…four months,” she confessed.

“Happily?”

“I don’t know. He seemed so different before we married. And then I got pregnant and he was furious. But I wanted a baby so badly.” She had to take a breath before she could go on. “I’m twenty-five. He was the first man who ever proposed to me.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Well, I didn’t always look like this,” she said. “I’m nearsighted. I wear contact lenses now. I took a modeling course and learned how to make the most of what I had. I guess it worked, because I met Tim at the courthouse while I was researching and he asked me out that same night. We only went together two weeks before we got married. I didn’t know him, I guess.”

“Was he your first man?”

She gasped. “You’re very blunt!”

“You know that already.” He lit a cigarette while he drove. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she muttered, glaring at him. “But it’s none of your business.”