Free Fool Me Once by Mona Ingram Page A

repairing fences on his ranch, his body toned in a
way that couldn’t be duplicated by working out in a fitness club. With a soft
sigh she continued her inventory, noting the strength in his thighs, no doubt
from riding, and ending where his feet hung over the end of the lounge.
    “Do
you see something you like?”
    “Yes…
uh, no.” She was uncharacteristically flustered. “Don’t do that to me, Josh.
You frightened me.”
    Swinging
his legs over the side of the lounge he shook his head. “I’m not the one
sneaking up on people while they’re sleeping.” His eyes were bemused. “Here,
give me a swig of that coffee.”
    With
one long gulp he drained the cup, handing it back to her. “As you no doubt
gathered, the game went on until early this morning.”
    “Was
it what you expected? Did you win?” Her words tumbled out, and she pulled back.
“Oops, I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s the journalist in me, I suppose.”
    He
managed a chuckle. “It was good. And yes, I managed to do rather well.” He
massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “I hate to admit it, but I’m out
of shape.”
    Jumping
up, she patted the chair. “Sit here.”
    “Why?”
He eyes the chair warily. “I don’t think I can make it that far.”
    “Don’t
be a sissy.” She patted the chair again. “I’m going to give you a massage and
put you to bed.”
    “I
think I’d prefer it the other way around,” he mumbled, easing into the chair
with an exaggerated sigh.
    “In
your dreams.” She was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Would you like another
coffee?”
    “Love
it. Someone drank mine.”
    “I’ll
be right back. Take off your shirt.”
    She
ran into the kitchen and asked Martine for two more coffees. Then she raced up
the stairs, returning with a bottle of suntan oil and a hand towel.
    “Here
I am.” The words died in her throat, and she gave a quick prayer of thanks that
he was sitting with his back to her. Even at its most vivid, her imagination
hadn’t prepared her for the sight of his body. With trembling hands, she poured
some oil into her left palm, then rubbed her hands together briskly.
    “It’s
not massage oil, but I think it will do.” Her hands skimmed over the taut
muscles of his shoulders, lightly at first and then increasing the pressure,
eliciting a sigh of pleasure. His skin was just as she had imagined…smooth and
taut. She ached to explore every inch of his body and was struck with a jolt of
desire that left her breathless. Her hands stilled for a moment. She couldn’t
allow herself to think like this. Josh Morgan was forbidden fruit. Hadn’t he
made that clear from the very first? Resuming the slow, soothing massage she
allowed her mind to drift, recalling the way he had looked at her last night in
the casino. Had he been acting? Somehow she didn’t think so. She could still
feel the warmth of his body as he slipped his arm around her waist, and she
closed her eyes, savoring the memory.
    “Eh
voila.” Martine bustled onto the deck, carrying
a tray of steaming coffee, heated milk and a selection of pastries.
    Grateful
for the reprieve, Olivia wiped her hands on the towel. “You were right, your
muscles are really tight,” she remarked, busying herself with pouring the
coffee. She needed a few moments to regain her composure. “One would think
you’re not a serious poker player. Black or white?”
    Unseen
by Olivia, Josh tensed, then forced himself to relax. “Black please.” He
nodded. “You’re right about the poker. It’s not something I do on a regular
basis. Especially in the spring when we’re busy with calving.”
    “Calving.
Yes. Hmmm.” She blew on her coffee, afraid to look directly at him. Those dark
eyes would read her thoughts as though they were tattooed on her forehead. With
a resigned sigh, she raised her head. The curly hair that had been revealed at
the neck of his shirt tapered into a narrow band, disappearing somewhere south
of the waistband of his trousers.