A Cowboy's Angel by Pamela Britton

Author:Pamela Britton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

She was quiet.

Zach told himself that was because it was dark outside and she had to concentrate on the road.

The meeting had lasted another two hours after Mariah’s “be kind to Zach” speech, the memory of which made Zach smile. She’d been ferocious in her defense of him, almost as fierce as she’d been defending the horses to the board of directors, and it made him feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’ll want my own CEASE T-shirt,” he teased.

She glanced at him sharply. The light from his porch shone inside the cab, highlighting her ringlets and setting them aglow.

“Just kidding.”

She smirked, and he smiled. He’d loved watching her talk to her group, had enjoyed the way her face had lit up when they’d talked about writing a mission statement, something they could present to the Golden Downs board of directors. He’d given his opinion when he could. Gradually, the group had lightened up and Zach could tell Mariah had been relieved. So had he. He’d been worried for a moment that her friends might disown her.

When they pulled up in front of his home, she turned to him and said, “Thanks for coming.” She wouldn’t look at him. She stared straight ahead, hands clutching the wheel, face tense.

“You want to come in for a sec?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yup.”

He wanted to kiss her. He’d been wanting to kiss her since that night at the Turf Club.

“I’m really not a bad person.”

She turned to him quickly. “I know that.”

“I don’t know if we, I mean your friends and I, could ever see eye to eye, but I hope so. I am first and foremost a horse person.”

He saw her lips part. She looked away, then back at him again, as if weighing within herself the words she wanted to say. “I know.”

“Have a good night.” He popped the door open.

She caught his hand before he could move. He looked over at her, startled.

“Your horses are lucky to have you as an owner.”

It was a compliment of the highest order and it warmed him through and through, so much so that he did what he’d been dying to do. He leaned across the seat, placed a hand behind her head and pulled her toward him.

“Zach—”

And he kissed her. Hard.

She tried to draw away, placed a hand against his chest, but only for a moment, a nanosecond, really, because it zapped to life, the connection, the current of electricity that ran between them, and it damn near blew his socks off. When their tongues touched, the electricity came to life. She moaned. Or maybe he did. Didn’t matter. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her, needed to angle his head so he could kiss her more deeply, felt his nerve endings fire to life when she sagged against him and kissed him back. The hand that’d been pressing against him softened.

Bucket seats. He hated them. A damn center console sat between them. He pulled back, cupped her head, looked into her eyes.

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