Free Montana Wildfire by Rebecca Sinclair

elbows and forearms, his fingers coiled around her upper arms. Holding her gaze ensnared, he slowly, slowly slid her down the hard length of his body.
    Amanda felt her thighs drag against his hips. Her pelvis was acutely aware of every hard band of muscle in his thighs. The tips of her breasts hardened still more when a rock-solid chest rubbed intimately against her.
    She turned her head, trying to hide her confusion, but not before she felt the copper velvet of his cheek graze her lips. The feel was like a bolt of lightning coursing through her. Raw sensation shot through her blood, and her toes curled inside her shoes.
    The second her feet touched the ground, Amanda winced and rationed her weight onto her left foot. Jake hadn't released her arms, and she was unnaturally grateful for that. His grip was the only thing that kept her upright.
    "You okay?"
    "Ummm-hmmm, fine," she lied. Somehow, she managed to force a note of confidence into her voice. Odd, she didn't feel very confident right now. In fact, she felt... well, damn peculiar, that's how she felt! Her gaze fixed on the feather interwoven at the tip of his braid. It lay against his chest, lifting and falling with his every ragged breath.
    "Then you won't mind if I let you go?" he asked. Was it her imagination, or was his drawl not so casual anymore?
    "Not at all, Mr. Chandler. In fact, I insist upon it."
    "Ever the lady, ain't ya, princess?"
    "I try to be. Will you please unhand me now?"
    "Sure, since you asked so nicely and all..." One by one, his fingers unpeeled from her arms. When he'd broken the grip, he let his hands fall limply to his sides. He didn't step away. His body was still close enough for her to feel, and react to, his searing heat.
    They stood that way for one tense moment. Jake let her remain wrapped in her thoughts, mostly because he couldn't shake himself from his own long enough to distract her. What the hell had just happened here? Nothing extraordinary, he assured himself. Something very extraordinary, another part of himself argued. No, not really, he insisted.
    Dammit, what had happened? He'd saved her from falling. It was that simple. He'd noticed the nice way her body was put together. Not so simple—not by half!—but normal for any healthy, red-blooded male. Then she'd moved, pressing herself so close he could feel her heart skipping. And out of nowhere... bam! Jesus, he'd never felt attraction that quick and strong in his life!
    Jake sighed, and dragged a palm down his jaw. He had to get his thoughts back on track. The best way to do that would be to get away from the woman who was causing them to stray. "You hungry?"
    Amanda forced a shrug, and eyed him closely. Judging from his expression—granite hard and stoic, as always—she was the only one who'd felt that sizzle of awareness when they'd touched. If Jake had felt it at all, it didn't show. He appeared oh, so calm. Oh so casual. Well, she decided, if he could act as if nothing had happened, surely she could do the same. Her gaze strayed back to his flat metal buttons. This time she forced it to stay there. "Yes, a bit. You?"
    "Famished."
    He wasn't talking about food. Amanda knew it. The information shivered through her, even as her attention snapped up. Their gazes met and held. Absolutely no emotion could be read in either his eyes or his expression, and that annoyed her.
    "I have some jerky and beans in my saddlebag," she said tightly, and she limped back a step. A chilly breeze whisked over her. Though the night was cool, the air felt unnaturally brisk. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to hold in some of her body heat. "I think I have enough coffee left for one more pot. You're welcome to share it."
    His shrug was negligent, as though he really didn't care. "Fine by me. So long as you're not the one making it."
    Amanda took offense. "I brew a decent pot of coffee, Mr. Chandler," she argued. The way he continually ordered her about was beginning to grate on her