Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

RAEANNE THAYNE
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muscles—or anything else of his that might interest
her—any time she wanted, she only had to say the word.
But while he wasn’t exactly the lazy wimp she
seemed to enjoy taunting him about, he wasn’t an idiot,
either, so he decided to keep the thought to himself.
By the time they finished checking and repairing
every fenceline on the Rancho de la Luna and headed
back for the house, he was beginning to question either
his intelligence or his sanity.
Why was he torturing himself like this? Maggie
hadn’t let up all afternoon about not wanting or needing
his help. If anything, she seemed to ride him even harder
as the afternoon wore on.
He had to wonder if she was trying to see just how
far she had to push to drive him away.
If she were any other woman—and if not for those
lines of pain around her mouth or the stiff way she sat
in the saddle—he would have acknowledged defeat
hours ago and let her run him off.
But he hadn’t been about to leave her to all this work
by herself. What she needed was a rest. The quicker they
finished up and put the horses away, the quicker she
could put her leg up.
She didn’t seem to want to talk, and he didn’t push
her, as the horses made their way along the creek back
to the house, the afternoon sun warm on their shoulders
and the water churning beside them.
At the barn he slid down quickly from his horse and
looped the reins around the fence, then crossed to the
mounting block so he could help her off the horse.