Quinn (10 page)

“At this point, Conway, I haven’t decided which would be worse. Another drink of that poison, or having to deal with the pain I know is coming. Besides, the whiskey is doing the job. My eyes are crossing. I’m seeing two of you.”

“That’s good, I think. I was just trying to warn you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She gritted her teeth. “I think you’re just putting off the inevitable.”

Knowing she was right, he took in a breath. “Want to stay in this chair, or lie on the floor?”

She paused for only a moment. “Floor. That way, if I faint, I won’t have so far to fall.”

He helped her from the chair and eased her gently to the kitchen floor.

“I could get a pillow.”

“No pillow.” Her words were slightly slurred as the alcohol began to numb her brain. “I’m ready.”

Kneeling over her, he took hold of her arm. “I’ve done this a couple of times, and the quickest way seems to be to rotate the arm. But—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I know. It’s also the most painful.”

“No matter what I do, it’s going to be painful. I just want you to be warned.”

“Enough stalling. Get on with it, Conway.”

“Right.”

He’d already decided that speed was of the essence. The minute he grasped her elbow and began rotating her arm, he heard her gasp of shock and pain. Her eyes went wide, and a low moan escaped her lips.

On the second rotation he felt the head of the upper arm bone slide smoothly back into the socket.

“Done.” He knew he sounded triumphant, but he’d been prepared for a much longer ordeal and was thrilled to have it over with.

He glanced down at her with a smile, but the smile faded when he realized that she wasn’t responding.

“Cheyenne.” He brought his face close to hers.

She was out cold.

He picked her up and carried her through the doorway and into a formal dining room. Beyond that he spotted a great room, with comfortable sofas arranged around a huge fireplace. He deposited her on one of the sofas and covered her with an afghan he found folded over the arm.

Finding a log already in place on the grate, he added kindling from a basket and got a fire started. Content that the room was comfortably warm, he crossed to the sofa and sat on the edge, rubbing her hands.

He saw her lids flicker, then open.

For a fraction of a second she appeared confused. Then her eyes rounded and focused on him.

“Is it over?” Her words were slurred.

“Yeah. Can you move your arm?”

Very carefully she flexed her arm. “Ouch. It’s tender.”

“Sorry. It may take a while before the last of the pain is gone. I hope it’s not as bad as the dislocation.”

She gave a slight shake of her head, as though speaking took too much effort. “Not so… bad now.”

“Good. That’s a start. If it doesn’t improve within a few hours, you might want to think about going to town to have Dr. Walton look at it.”

“The town’s a good… two hours from here.”

“Yeah. But I’m no doctor. I think I’d feel better if—”

“Quinn.” She lifted her left hand to his mouth to still his words. A dreamy smile played on her lips. Her head was still spinning. She was, she realized, pleasantly drunk. At some other time she might have been embarrassed. Right now, it made her want to giggle. “Thanks for what you did.”

“You’re welcome.” At the touch of her fingertips he felt the sudden jolt to his system. He absorbed a rush of heat and blamed it on the fire. “But I didn’t do much. You were the one suffering.”

“It’s not just what you did for my shoulder.” Her palm moved over his cheek, then upward to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You saved my life.”

He went still, enjoying the curl of pleasure down his spine at her simple touch. “Now how do you figure that?”

“That mustang.” Her voice softened to a dreamy sigh. “If I’d have been caught in that stall alone, I could have been trampled. Nobody would have found me. I could have died.”

“Don’t let yourself think about that.”

“Okay.” She smiled up into his eyes. “I’ll think about you instead. My hero.” Her hand cupped his head and she began drawing him closer. “Have I told you that you’re easy to look at?”

He grinned. “No. I guess you forgot.”

“Pretty hard to forget you.” She gave a long, deep sigh. “Hold me, Quinn.”

“I don’t think I’d better do that. You’ll regret it later.”

“Nuh-uh. No regrets.” She gave a deep, throaty laugh. “Come on. Hold me, Quinn.”

He didn’t need any coaxing. His arms were already closing around her. But only because he wanted to soothe. At least that was the excuse he gave himself.

“I didn’t tell you.” She paused, trying to remember what she wanted to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

“Hmm? Oh. That I knew about you. Well, not exactly about you. I didn’t recognize you when you first said your name. But I’d heard about the dreamy, sexy Conway men.”

“Yeah?” His grin was quick and amused.

“Who hasn’t heard? Your family owns the biggest ranch in Wyoming. You’re cattle and oil barons.”

“Yeah. That’s us.” He gave a dry laugh. “The barons of Wyoming.”

She shared a laugh with him before focusing on his mouth with a sultry look that could burn a man’s heart like a laser. “Kiss me, Quinn.”

“That wouldn’t be wise in your condition.”

“My condition is perfect, thanks to you. All right.” She drew his head down slowly. “If you won’t kiss me, I’ll just have to kiss you.”

She brushed her lips over his.

He thought about drawing away, but it was already too late. The taste of her was far too tempting to ignore. And though he hadn’t planned to, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return the kiss with one of his own.

The warmth of her, the sweetness of her, poured into him, leaving him stunned and reeling.

Her lips were made for kissing. So soft. So perfectly formed. So welcoming.

She felt so good in his arms.

“Again,” she muttered.

His lips moved over hers, at first soothing, caressing. Until the atmosphere changed between them and he absorbed a shocking, sexual jolt.

He’d meant only to play along with her little tipsy game. But now that he was kissing her, holding her, it was no game. This was so much more. So real, he couldn’t turn away if he wanted to.

In the back of his mind, he knew he was taking advantage of her weakness. Chugging a tall glass of whiskey would turn most brains to mush and would certainly weaken a woman’s resistance. But he had no such excuse, and still he couldn’t seem to stop. With each touch, each taste, he could feel himself sinking into her. Into all that sweetness. All that strength. And wanting more.

He would stop, he promised himself. In just a minute. At least that’s what he fully intended. But with each passing second, with each unsteady beat of his heart, he couldn’t find the strength to pull away.
Just a minute more
, he thought as his pulse began racing and he could feel his temperature climbing. One more kiss. One quick press of that perfectly honed body to his. But instead of ending it, the kiss spun on and on until he began wondering which of them was really drunk. Her kiss was like a powerful drug, and he wanted more. He wanted all.

At last, gathering his willpower, he managed to lift his head and fill his lungs with several deep breaths.

He looked down at her. “You all right?”

“Fantastic. Amazing. I’m floating. Ummm.” Her eyelids fluttered and closed.

Quinn sat watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her hair, long and loose, spilled over her shoulder. He brushed a strand from her cheek. Soft. Her hair and skin were as soft as a newborn calf.

Her eyes opened and he realized he’d been caught staring.

She gave a lazy cat smile. “Did I tell you that I like you better without the beard? You look… really sexy.” Again her hand lifted to his cheek. “And you’re a really great kisser, Quinn Conway.”

Her hand dropped like a stone.

He managed a dry laugh as he absorbed a sudden rush of adrenaline. “Thanks.” He got to his feet. “I think you’d better rest awhile.”

“I never… take naps. Besides…”—her words were badly slurred—“… after that amazing kiss, I’m too keyed up to sleep.”

“Right.” His grin was quick. “Trust me. You’ll sleep.”

“I never—”

Her eyes were closed before he left the room.

Quinn’s first order of business was to check on the mustang. The horse, though still skittish, had settled down as though the incident had never happened.

Quinn saddled Cheyenne’s mare and rode out to check on the wolf den.

Along the trail he had plenty of time to think. And though he’d hoped to concentrate on scholarly things, his mind kept circling back to Cheyenne.

And that kiss.

It hadn’t been so much a kiss as an earthquake. A storm that had left his whole world tilted out of sync. What was wrong with him? Maybe he’d been alone in the wilderness too long. The first pretty woman to flatter him had his head spinning like some lovesick teen’s. But there was no denying that kiss. He’d been caught completely off-guard. At first he’d thought he was being so chivalrous. He shook his head, just thinking about his reaction. One minute he was offering her comfort, and the next he was so caught up in kissing her that a herd of mustangs could have stampeded through the house and he wouldn’t have taken any notice at all.

When he arrived at the wolf den, he blinked and realized he’d ridden the entire distance without even being aware of his surroundings.

With a great deal of effort he managed to put Cheyenne O’Brien and those tempting lips out of his mind and get back to the work at hand.

The female wolf, caught in unfamiliar territory without her mate, would be forced to leave her newborns for short periods to hunt enough food to keep up her strength and thus nurse her young. She would be helped by the younger males that had remained as part of the family unit. Though not as competent in the hunt as the alpha male, they could keep the pack from starvation. The more dominant of these would, in time, assume a lead position within the pack.

Quinn thought back to that female wolf of his childhood, hunting food for her young and returning to face a rancher’s rifle. It was an epic contest that would never end. Ranchers had a right to protect the safety of their herds. Wolves were natural predators and would always kill whatever necessary for their survival.

Spying the remains of a fresh kill, Quinn felt a wave of
relief. This hardy pack was surviving nicely. Once the weather cleared, they would return to their old den. He had no doubt that they would be welcoming a new leader shortly afterward.

He felt a pang of heart-tugging sadness. The pack, which had been his focus for so long now, had suffered a serious loss and would be forever changed. But somehow, having found the evidence that they were moving forward, he knew that he had to do the same. It wouldn’t be easy to let go. He would have to accept the fact that within a matter of weeks this female and her young would welcome a strong, new male as leader of their pack and the life cycle would begin anew, with or without Quinn there to record their history. He would have to make a decision about whether to continue to follow this pack soon, if he intended to tag the new alpha male. Since Quinn knew where their permanent den was located, it wouldn’t be difficult to locate them after the snow melted.

He heard the yip of a wolf pup and saw a small face rise up, watching him from the den.

“Stay strong,” he whispered.

He stood a minute longer, watching as a she-wolf lifted her head, caught sight of him, and quickly dispatched the youngster from sight.

On the trek back to Cheyenne’s ranch, Quinn passed the spot where the male had been shot. There was no trace of the carcass. A fresh snowfall had completely obliterated the blood. The entire area had returned to a pristine wilderness, with no suggestion of the life-and-death drama that had occurred here.

Quinn spent hours seeing to the dozens of familiar ranch chores at Cheyenne’s. Funny, he thought, that no matter the size of the ranch, or the location, the work was
always the same. What with the demands of the animals, the upkeep of the buildings and equipment, and the whims of the fickle weather, ranchers never took a vacation. They worked from sunup to sundown and often all night, grabbing their rest when they could. And, he thought with a smile of satisfaction, they wouldn’t trade places with the wealthiest company president in the world.

For all its demands, ranching satisfied some deep basic need in him. He loved being one with the herds that trusted him. And he liked nothing better than to pit his strength against Mother Nature.

With the chores finished, he stepped into the stall for one more check on the calf and its mother. Despite the calf’s having been born in a blizzard and half-frozen immediately afterward, there was no sign of trauma now. Cow and calf stood contentedly as Quinn did a quick examination. Satisfied that mother and baby were progressing nicely, Quinn walked from the stall and stood a minute, watching the calf nurse.