Sara Orwig - Standing Outside The Fire

She had wanted to get off the elevator and forget about him, but the man was too handsome to easily erase from memory. And in the elevator there had been sparks of attraction between them. She had felt it and she knew he did, but then, he probably experienced sparks with most of the females he encountered.

The moment she had stepped into the restaurant and spotted him across the room, her pulse had leaped.

Maybe it was the wine, but she felt exhilarated. All her tiredness and worries of the day had evaporated, and she had appeased hunger with a delicious steak dinner.

He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s dance.”

Taking his hand, tingles sizzling from that impersonal contact, she went with him to the dance floor, stepping into his arms and onto dangerous ground. Now she was in his arms, and every nerve in her body quivered. She could detect a tangy aftershave. Her thighs brushed his thighs. She was held lightly against him and she could feel the warmth of his body.

Giddy and breathless, she told herself it was the effects of the wine, but she knew it wasn’t. It was the man.

Dancing was paradise, and her partner was fascinating. How long since she had danced? She couldn’t remember. Probably last Christmas’s barn dance at the Kellogg ranch.

His arm tightened slightly, pulling her closer. They danced together with an ease that surprised her. At five-eight, she usually didn’t have to look up to men she was with, but she did now. He was well over six feet tall.

The next song was a fast number, and he swung into it without asking her. She danced around him, caught in the intensity of his blue-eyed gaze, knowing she enticed him just as he excited her. He caught her and spun her around, leaning over her, and for an instant they were frozen as she clung to him and gazed up into his eyes and saw the longing in their depths.

He swung her up, and they finished the dance and then began a slow dance.

“My head is spinning.”

“It’ll stop spinning with this music. Now it’s slow, deliberate, languid,” he drawled softly, his breath fanning her hair as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her.

She should push against him and step back to keep the dancing as impersonal as possible, but it was heaven to be held in his arms. She closed her eyes to enjoy herself without reservation. She was dancing with the most handsome, appealing man she had ever known. And the sexiest. She didn’t even know his name and they would soon part and never see each other again, but right now she was going to dance and enjoy another hour with him.

How long since she had been on a date and had experienced as much excitement? She knew the answer had to be calculated in years, not days or months. Which made her all the more vulnerable to the man’s magnetism.

He wanted to know her name, and instinctively she realized for her own well-being, she should keep a barrier between them. The wine had been a mistake because she knew her judgment had slipped or she wouldn’t be here, wrapped in his arms, slow dancing with him.

His arms tightened just a fraction, and they were barely moving now.

Why couldn’t one of the locals who wanted to date her have been like this? Excitement bubbled in her, and she kept telling herself to be careful, to resist this charmer whose name she didn’t know.

“I’ve thought of a list of names that might fit you—Laura, Emily, Katherine, Kate, Patricia,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“None of the above,” she answered, leaning away to look up at him. The moment their gazes locked, her heart thudded. He wanted her and he wasn’t hiding it.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he said quietly, and she put her fingers against his mouth to stop him.

“Don’t tell me,” she whispered, intending to be emphatic, but her voice wavered as he kissed her fingers. Her stomach clutched and desire became a low flame inside her.

She sucked in her breath. “No names—remember?”

“I remember and I intend to win our bet.” He took her hand in his again and pulled her close and they danced. She moved with him, her fingers on his shoulder.

“I intend to figure out your name and to take you out again,” he declared.

While her pulse skittered, she leaned away to look up at him. “You don’t know where I live.”

“The world is a small place, and I get around a lot.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“And for you, a man would be willing to go to the ends of the earth.”

“For a date? I don’t think so.”

He danced to the French doors and opened a door. Outside on the terrace, water ran from downspouts and dripped from the eaves, but the rain had stopped.

“Where are you going?” she asked as cool, damp air enveloped her. When they danced through the door onto the terrace, she felt a light mist.

“Out here where we can be alone,” he said, still dancing with her and closing the door behind them. He waltzed into the shadows.

“I think we’re getting rained on,” she remarked.

“Have you ever been kissed in the rain?”

Her heart pounded as she shook her head. “No, I haven’t.” She met his gaze squarely. She should look away, move away, do a thousand other things besides stand in his arms, but his compelling eyes held her. When his gaze lowered to her mouth, she couldn’t get her breath.

His hand tangled in her hair while his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer against him. When he lowered his head, she closed her eyes, wrapping her arm around his neck and turning her mouth up to his.

His tongue touched hers, and then he kissed her deeply. She was hopelessly lost as he leaned over her. Standing on tiptoe and kissing him in return, she wrapped both arms around his neck.

Her heart thudded, drowning out all other sounds. Her world narrowed to his kiss, sensations streaking in her and building a heat low in her body. Stunned by passion and the stormy longing that swamped her, she moved her hips against him and felt his arousal press against her.

A fiery hunger raged, and she ran her fingers over his strong shoulders and slid her hands up to tangle her fingers in his thick hair. Never once in her life had she been swept beyond reason into passion as she was this night.

Lights exploded behind her closed eyelids while she was consumed by longing. What was probably nothing unusual to him was a once-in-a-lifetime happening with her.

His tongue stroked hers, fanning the flames already blazing. Suddenly he leaned away a fraction. With an effort she opened her eyes, and her heart missed beats. His blue eyes blazed with desire until she felt as if she could be devoured merely by a look.

“Who are you, darlin’? I want to know you. What’s your name?”

“Erin,” she replied breathlessly, knowing she was crossing a line. “What’s yours?”

“Boone Devlin,” he answered, leaning down to kiss her again.

As shocked as if ice water had been poured over her, Erin pushed against his chest and stared at him. “Boone Devlin!” she exclaimed.

“You act like you know me,” Boone said, not caring at the moment and tightening his arm around her waist while she pushed harder against his chest.

“You’re Boone Devlin!” she exclaimed again, her eyes widening while she stared at him as if he had just sprouted purple hair.

This time her amazement got through to him and Boone leaned away, frowning. “Yes, I am. Do we know each other? I don’t think we do,” he replied as fast as he asked the question. “I couldn’t have possibly forgotten meeting you.”

“No, we don’t know each other, but we’re going to. I’m Erin Frye.”

“Damn!” he breathed, in turn shocked to learn her identity. “Erin Frye, the manager of the Double T Ranch?” he asked as he stared at her.

She nodded. “You know, we’re getting wet out here, and the mist is thickening. Let’s talk inside.”

Stunned, Boone could only gape at her while all his preconceived notions and imaginings of a tough, older ranch woman shattered into oblivion. “You run the ranch?”

She nodded and held her hand palm upward to feel the rain. “It’s wet out here, Boone.”

He was totally stunned because she was absolutely nothing like he had imagined the manager of his ranch to be. The words the attorney had used to describe her spun through his memory: competent, tough, capable, experienced at ranching, knows horses, reliable, trustworthy. There hadn’t been one word about beauty, or being alluring or exciting.

“If you want to stand in the rain, you go ahead,” Erin said briskly. “I’m getting wet and I’m going in.” Turning, she headed into the hotel, and he came to his senses and caught up with her, taking her arm.

“Let’s adjourn to my suite and have coffee sent up and talk about this,” he said.

As she turned to look at him, he was certain that she was going to say no. “C’mon, Erin. We’re going to have to work together at the Double T, after all,” he urged.

She blinked as if she had never thought of such a possibility and then she nodded.

“Great,” he said, and motioned to a waiter. In minutes they were in the elevator, and Boone had the corked, complimentary bottle of wine in hand.

“I thought you were going to get coffee,” she said, eyeing the wine bottle. “I’ve had more wine tonight than I’ve had in the past two years.”

“We need to celebrate again,” he said, moving close, sliding his arm around her waist. He wanted her more than he could remember ever wanting a woman before. “Erin Frye,” he said in a low voice, and she took a deep breath as her eyelids fluttered.

“I still can’t believe that you’re Boone Devlin,” she whispered. She sounded breathless, and he could see desire in the depths of her green eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

Erin turned her face up to his. Now he wasn’t a stranger. She knew some of his history. And it was impressive. His years in Special Forces and his daring rescue of John Frates. John Frates had spent hours telling her about the men who’d saved him and how special and capable and brave and intelligent they were. For over the past four years she had been hearing about Boone Devlin, so the man was no stranger. And her caution and resistance crumbled into nothing.

Oblivious of her surroundings, Erin returned his embrace, kissing him while her heart pounded and passion possessed her. Wanting his kisses with an urgency that shook her, she poured her desire into her kisses. She was dimly aware when he walked her backward out of the elevator while he continued to kiss her. She pushed away and looked around the empty hall. “Where are we?”

“Almost to my room,” he said. He took her arm and led her down the hall. Her head was spinning, she was breathless, hot, and wanting to be back in his arms.

He unlocked a door, pushed it open and led her inside, kicking the door shut behind him and pulling her into his arms while he set the wine on a nearby table.

As they kissed, he leaned back against the door. His hand slid over her, stroking her back, sliding down over her bottom and her hips.

She trembled with desire. Holding him, she wanted him desperately. She kissed him, pouring pent-up needs and brand-new longings into her kisses. Unfastening the buttons of his shirt, she caressed his bare chest, tangling her fingers in a thick mat of hair.

He made a growling sound deep in his throat, and she could feel his heart pounding. When he shrugged off his shirt and dropped it, her desire ratcheted another notch. His sculpted chest was muscled, tapering down to a washboard stomach, and the word awesome came into her mind.