Free Christmas in Cowboy Country by Janet Dailey Page B

trying not to think at all.
    She’d gone too far with him once already. Allowed him to hold her so close it had been difficult to breathe, let him caress her as gently and as roughly as the impulse demanded. Stayed in his arms in the restaurant doorway, kissing him like she’d never kissed any man. What should have been a deeply private encounter had essentially taken place in public, considering that anyone in town might have seen them.
    It wasn’t like she had anywhere private to go in Velde besides back to her parents’ ranch. Of course, she hadn’t known about the cabin he was renting at that point. Even though she loved being back on the home place, it was tough not being able to come and go without comment. But her shared condo in Aspen hadn’t really been all hers either, and she’d managed.
    Public or private, what had happened between her and Marshall Stone had been a first for Annie. He’d demonstrated the ultimate in skilled masculine passion, in fact, but he’d also been intensely focused on her pleasure.
    She’d found him powerfully attractive, but maybe that was because she’d been single herself for longer than she’d ever thought possible.
    The romantic setting had weakened her resistance.
    What with the soft snow coming down outside the sheltered space and the way he looked at her just before he took her in his arms—damn. It didn’t really need to be analyzed. The heat of his sensual embrace and the bold way he kissed had made her forget about everything but him.
    â€œWe probably shouldn’t do that too often,” he said in a low voice.
    â€œMaybe not.” She wriggled into a more upright position. “What were we talking about?”
    â€œSurveying.”
    â€œRight. You’re almost done but you’re not done. So why does it take so long to survey a piece of land?”
    â€œMany reasons. For one, you have to try to reconcile the past and the present, and that’s never easy.”
    Annie thought that could apply to a lot of things in life. She nodded.
    â€œUsed to be stones and streams served to mark boundaries and corners. And trees,” he added. “But stones get buried and streams dry up and trees die or get hit by lightning or chopped down. Did your dad ever walk the lines with you, show you the landmarks of your ranch?”
    The ritual of walking the property lines was a long-standing custom in the country and generally something that men did. She didn’t ever recollect her mother going along.
    â€œHe walked the lines with my brothers,” she replied. “Not me.”
    â€œSounds about right. It was always a man’s job. Father and son, grandfather and grandsons. Just try talking to some of these old birds about what a satellite can see or how accurate measurements are now.”
    Annie bristled. “Excuse me?”
    â€œWhoa. I didn’t mean your dad. He was just concerned that I was on his property. He actually seemed to have a very good idea of where the lines were, considering your land hasn’t been surveyed since his grandfather’s day.”
    â€œDid he tell you that?”
    Marshall nodded. “Before you showed up, yes.”
    â€œJust out of curiosity, do your measurements favor us Bennetts or Chuck Pfeffer?”
    â€œThe data could go either way. I really need to make sure,” Marshall replied.
    Annie narrowed her eyes. His answer could be interpreted as evasive.
    â€œBy the way,” he added in a bland tone, “I don’t automatically favor the side that pays me. Measurements are measurements, and numbers don’t lie. Pfeffer could end up with what we call a dirty title. Meaning his claim to the land can be contested. And if he wants to sell, he won’t be able to.”
    â€œIs that why he’s having his ranch surveyed?”
    â€œTo be honest, he never said.”
    â€œI wonder if he tried to do it himself. My dad would have