A Risky Affair (10 page)

H
alf an hour later, perched astride a chestnut-colored sorrel named Aurora—handpicked for her by the stable boy because the color of her hair reminded him of the horse's—Solange tried her best to concentrate on enjoying the scenic jaunt through the lush, rolling acres of Crandall Thorne's property. A procession of large Spanish oaks flanked the dirt trail she was following, and patches of pale blue sky shone through the canopy of dry branches like slivers of stained glass. A cool, invigorating breeze, ripe with the scent of pine and earth, caressed her face and sifted through the strands of her hair, loosening her ponytail. It was a glorious day, perfect for being outdoors.

All she could think about was the man riding alongside her.

Seated astride a black, sleekly muscled Arabian, Dane looked relaxed and completely in control of his mount. Dressed in a ribbed black turtleneck, black jeans and black boots, he seemed an innate extension of the horse, as dark and powerful as a rebel warrior leading an army into battle. For someone who'd only been on horseback “once or twice” before, he sure could have fooled her.

“I think that's the longest you've looked at me all morning,” came his deep, amused drawl.

Solange jerked her gaze away, heat suffusing her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn't mean to stare at you.”

Dane chuckled softly. “You won't hear me complaining. I'll take being stared at over being ignored any day of the week.”

Solange felt a traitorous stab of guilt. “I haven't been ignoring you,” she lied.

“No? You've hardly said three words to me all morning.”

Solange shifted slightly in the leather saddle, keeping her eyes carefully averted. “I've had a lot on my mind.”

“Hmm. Boyfriend trouble?”

She bristled, whipping her head around to glare at him. “I really don't think that's any of your business.”

His crooked grin was a slash of white in his dark, handsome face. “I figured as much. So where is he? You left him behind in Haskell?”

Solange said nothing, staring resolutely ahead at the rugged mountain range that loomed in the distance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dane invited, undaunted by her silence. “I'm a very good listener.”

Solange snorted derisively. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Not at all,” he said silkily. “Truth is, I don't do much talking—or listening—with other women.”

At the unmistakable implication, Solange's mind was filled with an image of him, naked and glistening, clamped between some woman's legs. Inexplicably, a knot of anger tightened in her chest. Without a word, she dug her heel into the horse's side and spurred the animal into a full gallop.

Dane thundered after her, pulling up beside her before she could get very far. Aurora, either yielding to the sudden proximity of the larger horse or the leashed power of its rider, slowed to a docile gait.

Dane's expression was grim. “Don't pass judgment on my personal life,” he said curtly, “and I won't subject
you
to crass innuendo about it. Agreed?”

Solange swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Fine,” she bit off. “And the next time I tell you to mind your own business, please do so.”

“Fine.” Dane regarded her in stony silence, a muscle working in his tightly clenched jaw. After another moment, he nudged his horse forward, choosing to lead the way instead of riding alongside her.

Solange watched him sullenly, feeling like a chastened child. Truth be told, she
felt
small and petty. Dane had been nothing but kind to her, and she'd repaid his kindness by treating him like an unwelcome houseguest. It wasn't
his
fault she found herself torn between a fierce attraction to him and her unresolved feelings for her ex-boyfriend. And it certainly wasn't his fault that Lamar's unexpected marriage proposal had sent her world tilting on its axis, shaking the very foundation she'd spent the past year trying to rebuild. She hated that she'd spent half the night tossing and turning, her mind churning with a thousand what-ifs and visions of the safe, happy future she could have with Lamar; yet the moment Dane had sauntered into the room that morning, she'd had trouble remembering her own name, much less her newfound resolve to keep her distance from him until she made a decision about Lamar.

Her eyes traced the strong lines of his broad back, which tapered down to a trim waist and that firm, magnificent butt that actually made her envy the horse he sat upon.

She could
not
get involved with him. Crandall Thorne's tactless slip of tongue—if it could be called that—had confirmed her belief that having a relationship with Dane Roarke was out of the question. Although Crandall might have exaggerated about Dane dating women according to the alphabetized entries in his Rolodex, Solange had no doubt that Dane ran through enough females to fill several address books. He probably didn't know the first thing about monogamy and commitment.

Don't pass judgment on my personal life,
he'd told her. And he was right. What he did in private—or public, for that matter—was none of her business.

Especially if she decided to marry Lamar.

Solange was so absorbed in her thoughts that she lost track of her surroundings until Aurora came to a sudden stop. The sight that greeted Solange brought a soft gasp to her lips.

They had reached a clearing that led them to the top of a ridge, and below them lay the ranch and surrounding valley, lush and green like a rumpled velvet curtain. And beyond the valley, the mountains rose toward the heavens—proud, majestic sentinels framed against an endless expanse of brilliant blue sky. The view was so stunning, so utterly spectacular, that Solange feared it would disappear, like a mirage, if she blinked.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“I know,” Dane murmured quietly beside her. “Pretty amazing, isn't it?”

“Breathtaking. I've never seen anything like it. Talk about God's country.”

“Yeah. In the hands of a devil.”

Solange let out a choked laugh. Shaking her head, she shot Dane a look of mild reproach. “I thought I told you to stop badmouthing my boss.”

His mouth curved in an unabashedly irreverent grin. “You did. I never actually agreed to comply, though.”

“No, I guess you didn't. What is it with you two, anyway? You bicker worse than George and Florence on
The Jeffersons.
”

Dane chuckled, leaning forward in the saddle. “I'm almost afraid to ask which one of us you think is Florence.”

Solange laughed again, the tension between them all but forgotten. Gazing out across the valley and to the mountains beyond, she felt her breathing slow to an almost meditative state. She gave a long, dreamy sigh. “Crandall Thorne is very lucky to own this property. To have access to this incredible view anytime he wants. I hope he truly appreciates it.”

“I'm sure he does,” Dane murmured. “According to his son, Caleb, the old man has learned to appreciate a lot of things he didn't four years ago.”

“What happened four years ago?” Solange asked curiously.

“He was diagnosed with acute renal failure. It nearly killed him. He had to undergo a complete lifestyle change, which included cutting back on his workload and retreating to a quieter, more peaceful environment.”

“Well, it certainly doesn't get any more peaceful than this,” said Solange, gesturing to encompass their scenic surroundings. “Only a fool would question the healing powers of this place.”

“You said it, not me.”

She arched a brow. “Wait, let me guess. Crandall didn't want to live here?”

“Not at first,” Dane drawled. “He likened it to being banished to the wilderness. Once his health began to improve, however, he came to his senses and realized life was too damn short to waste it on looking gift horses in the mouth.”

Hearing the trace of grudging respect in his voice, Solange hid a knowing smile. Something told her Dane would rather be tortured by an army of terrorists than admit to respecting anything about Crandall Thorne.

“I'm definitely glad he decided to stay here,” she said. “Not only for his own benefit, but for mine, as well.” As Dane watched her, she lifted her face to the pale morning sun and exhaled on a deep, contented sigh. “I could just sit here forever and daydream.”

“I know what you mean.” After another moment, Dane swung down nimbly from his horse and came around to her side. Without thinking, Solange accepted his proffered hand and allowed him to help her dismount, though she'd done it without assistance a thousand times before.

Too late, she realized what a colossal mistake she'd made, as she found her body being dragged along the warm, solid length of Dane's before he set her down. Although the contact lasted no more than a few seconds, her body reacted as if he'd pinned her, naked, to the ground. Heat sizzled through her veins, stinging her nipples and turning her knees to gelatin.

Startled, her eyes flew to his face, only to find his dark, heavy-lidded gaze on her mouth. Her breath snagged sharply in her throat. The air between them quivered with sexual awareness. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only lean weakly against him with her hands braced upon the hard, muscled pad of his biceps. And then he shifted ever so slightly, bending a little so that her hands slowly slid up his chest and came to rest on the broad expanse of his shoulders. A tiny shiver of pleasure worked its way down her spine. Her lashes lowered, her eyes riveting on the lush, sensuous curve of his bottom lip.

“Solange—”

The ragged need in his deep, husky voice finally snapped her out of her trance. Hastily she dropped her arms and took a step backward, trembling from a heady combination of fear and arousal.

“Thanks for, uh, helping me down,” she managed hoarsely.

Dane hesitated, staring at her a moment longer before nodding once. “You're welcome,” he said gruffly.

Solange wiped her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans and walked away on unsteady legs, needing to put as much distance between them as possible. She didn't even want to think about what had just happened—or
not
happened—a moment ago. It was too unsettling to contemplate.

Lowering herself onto the thick blanket of grass, she drew her knees up to her chin and watched out of the corner of her eye as Dane murmured quietly to the horses and rubbed their silky necks. His preoccupation with the animals bought her time to bring her galloping pulse under control, so that by the time he sauntered over and dropped to the ground beside her, she felt immeasurably calmer. So they were attracted to each other. That didn't mean they had to sleep together, she reasoned, nor did they have to tiptoe around each other like a couple of skittish mares. They were both mature, sensible adults. Surely they could enjoy the simple pleasure of a morning horseback ride without ripping each other's clothes off.

Dane stretched out along the grass, clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, his black lashes sweeping down to rest upon his cheekbones. He looked like a dark warrior taking a break from battle to catch a power nap.

Swallowing hard, Solange said softly, “You're good with them. The horses, I mean. And you ride like a natural.”

Dane lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “I'm a fast learner.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you've gone riding more often than you let on.”

One dark eye cocked open to look at her. “Are you calling me a liar, woman?”

Solange laughed, shaking her head. “I wouldn't dare! Not only do you outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds, but any man who puts his body on the line to help raise money for breast-cancer research must be the epitome of goodness and honesty.”

A slow, lazy grin curved his mouth as he looked up at her from beneath his lashes. “Just trying to do my part.”

She smiled back at him. “Well, I guess I'll do
my
part and support the cause by buying a calendar.”

“Don't do that.”

“Why not?” she asked in surprise.

“You don't want a calendar filled with half-naked men on your wall.”

She sputtered, “How do you know what I want?”

“Because I do. Besides,” he added, subtle challenge glinting in his eyes, “I don't think your boyfriend would appreciate it too much. I know I wouldn't, if you were mine.”

The teasing smile on Solange's lips died like a flame that had been suddenly doused. The words
if you were mine
echoed through her mind, filling her with an emotion she didn't want to identify.

Looking away, she cleared her throat. “I'll buy the calendar and mail it to my best friend in Haskell.”

“Atta, girl,” Dane said softly.

As silence lapsed between them, Solange let her gaze wander to where the horses stood contentedly side by side, their heads hanging down as they nipped at each other in idle play. If only human relationships could be so simple, so pure and unspoiled, she thought with an inward sigh.