Leopard 03 - Burning Wild

formidable, overpowering, dangerous. A rock for all of them, yet he moved silently, like a cat in the night. “I’m going riding, Jake,” she answered, straining to keep her voice even. She loved looking at him, all that flowing power, the swift impatience, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled right before he smiled. But he could be very overwhelming when he chose to be intimidating—as he was doing now.
    He swore, pulling her soft body right up against his tough, well-muscled one. He had a day’s growth of beard, and up this close she could smell his outdoorsy, masculine scent. “Like hell you are. I haven’t seen you in two long weeks. What’s up?”
    With an effort, Emma managed a faint smile. “Nothing, Jake. I was shirking duties, that’s all. How was your trip?”
    Swift annoyance spread across his sensual features. She could feel the tension in his large frame.
    “Come on,” he snapped impatiently, whirling around, taking her with him. “If we’re going to spar, we may as well be comfortable.”
    He moved with the lithe, flowing grace of a prowling jungle cat, power and coordination combined.
    Emma, with her shorter legs, was forced to run to match his lazy, long stride. He glanced down at her bent head, his eyes a glittering gold, and deliberately slowed his pace to accommodate her. Casually retaining possession of her arm, he dropped his flat-brimmed hat on a chair as they went through the family room.
    “Was that Susan Hindman I saw upstairs?” he demanded abruptly, releasing her as they entered the kitchen. “She was peeking over the banister and making eyes at me.”
    Emma nodded, rubbing absently at the marks of his fingers on her arm. “She’s staying with us while her father’s away in London. He asked me right after you left. I didn’t think you’d object. Her governess, Dana Anderson, brought her along with a gentleman they said was her tutor, a Harold Givens.” Jake didn’t like strangers on the ranch.
    “What’s she been saying to you?” Jake’s handsome features were set and hard. He looked very formidable. Even so, he reached out to take her arm in the palm of his hand, his touch gentle as he examined her skin for finger marks. The pads of his fingers stroked caresses over the marks, his touch lingering, sending tingles of arousal along her nerve endings to spread through her body.
    She pulled her hand away because he looked as if he might kiss her better, and her pulse began to hammer hard, first in her throat, then in her breasts, and finally in her most feminine core. Color swept up her neck. It was so humiliating to be out of control of her body when it had never happened before.
    He couldn’t know. She couldn’t give herself away to his sharp, probing gaze.
    “Sorry, you have such fair skin, honey. I always forget that. What did Susan have to say?” he persisted.
    She shrugged lightly, ignoring the strange sensations his nearness produced in her. “Only girl talk.” She kept her voice even but his touch had disturbed her so much she couldn’t meet his gaze.
    He sighed, his golden eyes never leaving her face. “God, I’m tired. It’s been a long two weeks. You have any coffee made?”
    She flashed him a quick smile. “Of course, you know I do. Want to eat?” She handed him a steaming mug. He did look tired, his hair tousled and unruly, just the way she liked it best.
    He shook his head. “Coffee’s great. I’ve been dreaming about your coffee. Where are the little monsters?”
    “Upstairs playing. I’m surprised they’re not down here already. They must not have heard you come in.” She watched him toss his coat aside and sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Without conscious thought, Emma reached out and pushed an unruly lock of hair from his forehead.
    He tilted the chair, golden eyes on the pulse beating at the hollow of her throat. She moved with a curious, delicately feminine retreat. A crooked smile touched his mouth. He deliberately allowed his eyes a lazy exploration of her soft, curving body. “Have the kids been good?”
    “They’re always good, although they missed you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Emma poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the sink, a small but relatively safe distance from him.
    “And what about you? Did you miss me?” His voice was a soft whisper, like fingers skimming along her skin.

    Faint color stole into her face. She loved the sound of his voice. “Of course I missed you. I always