Free An Irresistible Temptation by Sydney Jane Baily

she
took, careful that her fingers didn’t touch his. She gave it a
delicate shake and it rattled noisily.
    “Hey,” he warned, this time offering a wry
grin. “It sounded that way before I rode over here.” He took off
his hat and whacked his knee with it absently, sending up a cloud
of dust.
    She knew Sarah well enough by now: “What did
you tell Sarah when she asked why you were coming here?”
    He reached into the side pocket of the
lightweight tan-colored duster he was wearing. A cream-colored
envelope was rolled up but not folded.
    “For you.”
    Thank God he’d had a legitimate reason to
ride over. But she could think of no reason to invite him in and a
million reasons not to.
    “Thanks, Riley. Well, good day then.” And she
started to close the door.
    His arm shot out and his hand stopped the
door with a resounding thwack, making her jump. The smile was gone
from his face, replaced by something that looked like sadness.
    “May I please come in?”
    She shook her head immediately; he was
playing with fire.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t
think that you think it’s a good idea, either.”
    “No,” Riley said, looking down at his boots
and shaking his head. He stayed that way a moment, paused,
thoughtful. “No, you’re right.” Then he raised his eyes to her and
the look went right through her, striking a chord that made her
yearn for something more.
    “But let me in anyway.”
    His voice, gone low and rough, perhaps with
emotion or desire, made her swallow hard. All the reasons
evaporated like morning dew at noontime. She stepped back and held
the door open wide.
    He slipped inside, turning to her, but she
felt prickly with the closeness in the hallway and walked back to
the kitchen, placing the cookies and the envelope on the table. She
could feel him at her back and didn’t turn to face him. Until he
touched her—his hand on the small of her back—and she spun around
as if burnt.
    “What . . . can . . . we . . . possibly . . .
need . . . to . . . say?” she asked. Stay calm, stay even. Keep
her emotions in check. She conjured up the image of him kissing
Eliza, but it dissolved as he took her hands and held them in
his.
    His face already seemed dear to her, and she
wanted to chide herself, feeling a heaviness in her heart, knowing
this could not end well. She knew she was going to get hurt, though
not too badly, if she kept her head about her now. Sparing Eliza,
who was going to lose her father and did not deserve a broken heart
as well—that was the only thing Sophie could hope to accomplish.
She pulled her hands from his.
    “You shouldn’t have come.”
    “I had to,” he said, “particularly after that
fiasco of a dinner.”
    She nodded her agreement. True. He pulled out
a handkerchief and wiped it over his face, removing a layer of
trail dust, before stuffing the small square of fabric back in the
front pocket of his Levi’s.
    “Are you sweet on Dan?” It rushed out of him
all at once.
    She laughed, so surprised by his question.
But she didn’t want to disrespect Dan who’d been so helpful. “He
seems like a good man, kind and funny.”
    “None better,” Riley agreed. “He’s my
friend.” He searched her face. “But I felt like popping him one,
right in the mouth, every time he looked at you. In that
dress.”
    She swallowed, feeling her throat close at
the look in his eyes. “There is nothing to say.”
    “I don’t want to marry Eliza.”
    Or maybe there was something to say.
Sophie sat down with a thud on the kitchen bench. And in an
instant, he was on his knees on the floor in front of her.
    “Oh, no,” Sophie said, looking down at her
lap. “No, no, no, no.” He took her hands again.
    “Sophie, please listen.”
    She wanted to stick her fingers in her ears
like a small child and sing loudly to block him out.
    “No, Riley. Don’t do this to her. Not because
of me.”
    “Sophie.” He raised her chin to look at him.
“Listen to me.”
    “No,