Montana Sky

a coat.” Pleased with the situation, he sniffed at her—more like a dog than a lover—and heard her muffling a chuckle. “Smell good.”
    “That idiot Tess, spraying stuff on me.” But she was beginning to relax again in the warmth. “Gunking up my face.”
    “It looks good gunked.” He grinned when she tipped it back to his, eyeing him pityingly.
    “What’s wrong with men, anyway, that they fall for this kind of stuff? What’s so hot about looks that come out of pots and tubes?”
    “We’re weak, Will. Weak and foolish and easy. Wannaneck?” He rooted at her throat and made her laugh.
    “Cut it out, McKinnon. You ass.” But her arms were around his waist now, comfortable, and she’d forgotten what had put her in such a foul mood. “You’re late,” she added. “Your parents are already here, and Zack and Shelly. I thought you weren’t coming.”
    “I got hung up.” He kissed her before she could duck, drew the kiss out when she forgot to protest. “Miss me?”
    “No.”
    “Liar.”
    “So?” Because he was grinning just a bit too smugly, she looked over his shoulder, through the brightly lit window at the crowd of people. “I hate parties. Everybody just stands around and yaks. What’s the point?”
    “Social and cultural interaction. A chance to dress up, drink for free, and ogle each other. I’m planning on ogling you once we’re back inside. Unless you’d rather go off to the horse barn and let me get you out of that pretty dress.”
    More intrigued with the prospect than she wanted to be, she lifted a brow. “Are those my only choices?”
    “We could use my rig, but it wouldn’t be as cozy.”
    “Why do men think about sex day and night?”
    “Because thinking’s the closest thing to doing. You got anything on under this?”
    “Sure. I had to slick myself down with oil to get it on.”
    He winced, tried not to moan. “I deserved that. Let’s go inside and stand around and yak.”
    When he stepped back, the cold hit her like a slap. She shivered her way to the door. Still, she stopped with her hand on the knob, turned to him. “Ben, why have you suddenly developed this thing about getting my clothes off?”
    “There’s nothing sudden about it.”
    He opened the door himself, nudged her inside. Very much at home, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the newel post. Unlike Willa, he liked parties just fine, the noise and fuss and smells of them. People deep in conversation were sitting on the staircase with plates of food. Others jammed into the hall, spilled back through the open doors of other rooms. Most had a greeting for him, or a fewwords to exchange as he kept one hand firmly on Willa’s arm to prevent her escape.
    Escape was what she had in mind, he knew, but he had a point to make. He was going to make it to her, and to everyone—including several duded-up cowhands who had their eye on her. The end of the old year, the beginning of the new with all its mysteries and possibilities seemed like the perfect time.
    “If you’d turn loose of me a minute,” she muttered close to his ear, “I could—”
    “I know what you could. I’m hanging on. Get used to it.”
    “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” She could only swear under her breath as he tugged her into the great room.
    Guests had moved back, making room for dancing. Ben grabbed a beer on his way and watched with pleasure as his parents executed a quick, intricate two-step.
    “You can tell something about people who dance together that way,” he said.
    Willa looked up at him. “What?”
    “They know each other inside and out. And like what they see on both sides. Now, take them.” He inclined his head toward Nate and Tess, who were swaying—you couldn’t call it dancing—on the edge of the crowd and grinning at each other. “They don’t know each other yet, not all the way, but they’re having a hell of a good time finding out.”
    “She’s just using him for sex.”
    “And he looks all broken up about it, doesn’t he?” With a chuckle, Ben set his beer aside. “Come on.”
    Horrified, she pulled back, trying to dig in those unfamiliar heels as he towed her to the dance floor. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t know how.”
    “So learn.” He put a firm hand on her waist, positioned hers on his shoulder.
    “I don’t dance. Everybody knows I don’t dance.”
    He merely propped the hand she’d taken away back on his shoulder again. “Sometimes you can go