Kurt texas rascals 4, p.11
Kurt (Texas Rascals, #4), page 11
He still wanted her. Oh, yes! Perhaps more so. Just thinking of those sweet lips, her strawberries and cream scent, her soft, pliant flesh, sent a heated rush hurtling throughout his lower anatomy.
No, what troubled him were the other sensations—this urge to protect her, his desire to wrap her in his arms when she cried and kiss away her tears, the strong need to help her regain her memory despite the unsettling revelations it was sure to bring.
“Would you like to watch one of your movies?” he asked, flicking on the light in the TV room.
“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she said.
Lord, how she’d changed. Kurt remembered a petulant, pouting Elizabeth who complained whenever he immersed himself in his job. Now, here she was encouraging him.
“It’ll keep,” he said gruffly. “Getting your memory back is more important right now. Which one shall we watch?”
“The one you spoke of before. The one with the drugstore soda fountain in it.”
“Some Can Love. You won an Oscar for your role as Mary Duncan, a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Remember?”
Beth shook her head. “No.”
Kurt turned on the TV.
“How many movies have I made?” Beth asked, wandering aimlessly around the room.
“Sixteen.”
“That many?”
“You’ve been acting since you were nineteen,” he replied, connecting to Netflix.
She sighed. “I wish I could remember.”
“That’s what we’re working on. Here, take this.” Kurt thrust the remote control in her hand, his gaze lingering on the forlorn expression skewing her face. “Have a seat. I’ll go microwave some popcorn and be back in a second.”
He dimmed the lights as he went out of the room, leaving Elizabeth to settle onto the couch. His heart strummed a little faster, but he didn’t know why.
Consuelo was cleaning out the refrigerator. “Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked.
“Watching Some Can Love. The doctor recommended it. I’m nuking us some popcorn.” Kurt took the popcorn from the pantry.
“Us?” Consuelo peered at him.
“Yeah. I thought I’d help her.”
“Kurt...”
“I know, I know.” He raised his palms in a defensive gesture. “Don’t light into me, Consuelo.”
“Be careful,” she warned.
“Beth really is different,” Kurt said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Please, Kurt, you can’t be one hundred percent sure she’s not acting.”
“You didn’t see her with Grant Lewis at church. She seemed totally frightened of him. I know she didn’t recognize him.”
“I don’t want her to hurt you again.”
The aroma of hot popcorn filled the room. Kurt shifted his weight. Consuelo was merely voicing his own concerns.
“She does seem much sweeter,” Consuelo conceded. “Very different. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was another person.”
Kurt nodded, a tightness squeezing his stomach. Yes, Beth was sweeter and kinder and more honest.
“But what happens when she gets her memory back?” Consuelo tossed half a head of shriveled iceberg lettuce into the garbage pail.
“Then she’ll go back to Los Angeles.” Kurt shrugged.
“You can’t fool me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re falling for her again.”
Kurt snorted. “I am not.”
“I see it in your eyes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Consuelo.” But his heart lurched. He was most definitely not falling for Elizabeth Destiny. He just felt sorry for her. Helping her was no different than helping the homeless acquire shelter or assisting the sick to find medical treatment.
“Be careful,” she warned again. “You know how you get when you have a cause to champion.”
BONNIE’S EYES WERE glued to the TV screen. From the moment the credits started to roll, she’d been hooked. Something about this felt so familiar, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. She didn’t really remember making the movie or even viewing it. No. It was something else. The act of snuggling into the sofa, watching the story unfold, stirred inside her a cozy feeling of comfort and security.
The fragrant smell of crisp popcorn preceded Kurt into the room. Bonnie hit the “pause” button and smiled.
He carried two glasses of cola and a bowl of popcorn on a tray. She scooted over and patted the cushion beside her. Kurt set the drinks on the coffee table and eased down next to her, putting the popcorn bowl between them.
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
She hit the “pause” button again, and the soundtrack came to life.
“When did this movie come out?” she whispered, reaching for a handful of buttery popcorn. Her elbow accidentally grazed his thigh, and she sucked in her breath at the rough feel of denim.
“Three years ago.”
On-screen the camera panned a cracked sidewalk in a squalid neighborhood. The soundtrack played “Rock Around The Clock.” The cars and clothing indicated the film was set in the late fifties.
“Here you come.” Kurt pointed at the screen. He leaned forward, his face animated. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Beth, nobody makes an entrance like you do.”
He’s excited, Bonnie thought, and her heart skipped a beat. Excited by her on-screen image. Why couldn’t he respond to her in the flesh with the same enthusiasm?
Kurt munched a mouthful of popcorn, and Bonnie followed his stare. She saw herself saunter down the sidewalk, her hips swaying, her breasts straining against her tight sweater.
Bonnie glanced down at her own chest. She wasn’t that well-endowed. Frowning, she attributed the difference to the magic of Hollywood.
Overgrown boys in leather jackets and ducktails whistled at her as she rounded the corner. She puckered her lips and blew them a kiss as steamy as any Marilyn Monroe would have dished up.
Embarrassed, Bonnie hid her face with a couch pillow. So odd to see herself on the screen like this and not remember a minute of it. Not just odd, but weird. The woman in the movie was a complete stranger.
“Beth?” Kurt set the popcorn on the table and turned his body toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She lowered the pillow and met his stare. “She’s not me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t move like that.”
“Sweetheart, you were acting.”
Sweetheart? Where had that come from? The word sent a thrill pulsing through her veins.
“It’s more than that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nothing feels right. Maybe we should turn it off.”
“I can’t begin to imagine what you must be going through,” he sympathized. “But let’s keep watching; maybe something will trigger your recall.”
Bonnie nodded and forced herself to concentrate on the movie. But Kurt’s presence was too distracting. Every time she tried to follow the storyline, she found her gaze drifting to study the contours of his rugged face, her nose twitching to breathe in his scent.
Kurt rested his arm on the back of the sofa. If she leaned back against it, her nape would touch his firm muscles.
“Here,” he said, moving his arm forward until it gently touched her shoulder. Bonnie thought she’d sink through the floor with sheer joy. “Here comes the part where you enter the drugstore. See if any of this matches your memory.”
Try as she might, she could not focus on the screen. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and tried to pay attention, but all she could think about was the sound of Kurt’s steady breathing, the smell of his spicy cologne mixing with the aroma of popcorn, the exhilarating feel of his hand against her skin.
He began to rub his thumb steadily across her back, his fingers kneading her shoulders. Bonnie gulped, fused to the spot by his intoxicating caress. What had gotten into him? Was he physically aroused by her image on the screen?
“Well?” he asked huskily.
Her eyes drifted half closed. “Huh?”
“Did that scene match the memory you experienced in the drugstore on Saturday?”
“No. I remembered being a little girl with my Aunt June working the soda fountain.” Bonnie shook her head at the TV. “Nothing like what’s in the movie.”
“That’s interesting.” Kurt continued massaging her shoulder.
The story on-screen played out, but Bonnie’s attention lay elsewhere. She didn’t care about the actress who looked so much like herself yet felt like a completely different person. She didn’t care about the handsome young movie hero grinning at her on-camera persona. At this moment, she didn’t even care about her amnesia. Only one thing dominated her mind—Kurt McNally and his magic hands.
“Do you remember Lance Westwood?” he asked.
“Who?” Bonnie almost purred from the delicious sensations.
“Your costar.”
“Should I?”
“You two had a love affair.”
“We did?” Bonnie frowned.
“In fact, you’d just broken up with him when we met.”
Bonnie studied the young actor on the screen. Lance Westwood was much too handsome. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect muscles. She vastly preferred Kurt. He looked like a real man, not some soft, pretty boy.
“Nope,” Bonnie said. “Don’t remember him.”
“I never could figure out why you went out with me after dating a guy like that.”
“You felt insecure? Heavens, Kurt, you’re twice the man he is.”
Kurt’s face flushed. “Later on, of course, I found out why you wanted me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t remember any of this, Beth, but you should know the truth. You were marrying me for publicity and money.”
Bonnie rounded her shoulders and lowered her head. “Was I really so mercenary?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You don’t know how sorry I am.”
“I believe you.” Kurt pulled her into the curve of his arm. “I just wish it hadn’t taken an accident to bring out your good side.”
“Me, either.”
“Maybe when you get your memory back, you’ll have learned something from this experience. Maybe this all happened for a reason.”
“I’d like to believe that,” she said, her heart thumping faster as she gazed into his hazel eyes.
“Me too,” he whispered softly, his mouth very close to her cheek.
What was he saying? Had her efforts to prove herself a changed woman actually paid off? Could he possibly be considering a renewal of their relationship? The biggest question, was she ready for this?
Unnerved, Bonnie leaned forward and reached for her cola.
Lifting the glass to her lips, she stared straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed with the action on the screen. Lance Westwood was toying languidly with a lock of Elizabeth Destiny’s hair, his gaze fixed on her ample chest.
“This is where he kisses you,” Kurt whispered.
Heated embarrassment splashed through her like ice water, startling and unexpected. Bonnie squirmed as Lance’s lips came down hard on Elizabeth’s mouth.
Beside her, she heard Kurt inhale raggedly.
“I get jealous watching another man kiss you,” he confessed. “Especially when that man used to be your lover.”
“Take heart,” she said, trying her best to lighten the moment. “I don’t remember anyone’s kisses but yours.”
“Hey,” Kurt said, leaning nearer. “If it means all other men have been blocked from your mind, I think I like this amnesia stuff.”
His arm still rested across her shoulder. Bonnie clutched her cola glass between her fingers.
Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me now. Kiss me hard. Kiss me long. Bonnie caught her breath, waiting.
Kurt hesitated. She saw desire written on his face warring with self-control.
Her teeth parted. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
She ran her tongue along her lips.
Reaching up, he removed her glasses, folded them and set them on the coffee table, then he slipped the drink from her hand and settled it beside her glasses. Leaning back, he tightened his grip.
“Beth,” he whispered and buried his nose in her hair.
Bonnie closed her eyes and cherished the sound of his voice. He lightly pressed his lips to her ear, and a corresponding shiver raced down her spine.
He painted a trail of moist kisses down her jaw.
Bonnie groaned and tilted her head.
He ended at her chin, his beard stubble raking against her skin.
“Kurt,” Bonnie breathed, feeling as if she’d just been given the keys to heaven.
“Excuse me.”
They leaped apart, both of them swiveling their heads to stare at Consuelo standing in the doorway, arms akimbo.
Bonnie raised a hand to her lips. Kurt looked chagrined.
“I hate to interrupt your...movie.” Consuelo raised one eyebrow. “But Hub’s got a problem he needs to discuss with you, Kurt.”
“Sure, sure.” Kurt sprung up from the couch. He busied himself brushing wrinkles from his chambray shirt, carefully avoiding Bonnie’s eyes. “Be right there.”
Briefly, he turned back to Bonnie. “Keep watching,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll remember something.”
Then he disappeared out the door, looking very relieved to make his escape.
Chapter Thirteen
Kurt couldn’t say why he’d started rubbing Elizabeth’s shoulders, but once he started, he’d been unable to stop, drawn inexplicably to her natural warmth. Weird. He’d always considered Elizabeth a supremely cool person, but that last kiss had changed his mind. His lips felt as if they’d been seared by a blowtorch.
Good thing Consuelo had interrupted when she had. Her appearance had snapped him back to earth. Damn, why did Beth have to be so physically desirable? Her intoxicating scent, those innocent blue eyes, that petite little nose spelled nothing but trouble.
The woman confused him to no end. When Dr. Freely had first called about Elizabeth and her accident, Kurt had been adamantly opposed to bringing her to the ranch. If anyone had told him four days later he’d be wanting her to stay, he would have snorted derisively.
But that’s actually what he did want.
Be real, McNally. No matter how nice, how sweet, how perfect she seems now, all that will change the minute her memory returns.
So why on earth was he trying to help her remember? If he were smart, he’d avoid her as much as possible. He was opening himself up for a heap of heartache every time he gazed at her, touched her, kissed her. No matter how much he resolved to stay away, he found himself tempted.
Kurt stalked across the yard to where Hub stood silhouetted in the barn doorway. “What’s up?”
“Just got a call,” Hub said, “we’re two peach pickers short for tomorrow’s harvest.”
Groaning, Kurt ran a hand through his hair. “What happened?”
“One of the harvesters fell off the back of a truck over at the Double W and broke his leg.”
“And?”
“Jesse’s mother’s sick. He’s gotta go home.”
Kurt swore and kneaded his brow. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Where are we gonna find the extra hands at this late date?”
“I don’t know.”
Hub toyed with a pitchfork. “Almost everyone I can think of is already spoken for.”
“What about that guy we hired last year?” Kurt snapped his fingers. “What was his name?”
“I know who you mean. He left the state.”
“Damn.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to swallow your pride and take Elizabeth up on her offer.”
“What offer is that?”
“Remember, she said she wanted to help with the harvest.”
Kurt snorted. “Not very likely.”
“Why not? She’s surely different, Boss. I will concede that point. If she really wants to help, I say put her to work. Put her to the ultimate test. Physical labor. Find out once and for all if she’s pulling our legs or not.”
Elizabeth picking peaches in the hot July sun, battling wasps and ants and fruit flies? Hard to imagine. But what about sweet Beth? Well, yes, he could see Beth happily pitching in where she was needed, cheerfully enduring the annoyances involved in harvesting peaches.
What about your vow to avoid her at all costs? an irritating voice in the back of his mind reminded him.
“So,” Hub prompted, “you gonna ask her?”
“I guess so. What choice do I have?”
The harvest came first. He’d just have to rein in his emotions. He could do it. How many times had he hidden his feelings as a child, growing up in the orphanage where his wants and needs never came first. He’d become a master at hiding his own desires.
If he kept his hands and his lips to himself, he could pull it off. No two ways about it, Beth must never guess he was having warm feelings for her.
FLATTERED THAT KURT asked her to help with the peach harvest, Bonnie rose before dawn, eager to get started. She dressed in blue jeans, sneakers, and a pink long-sleeve shirt, then pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
Bubbling with excitement, she hurried downstairs to help Consuelo make breakfast. They chattered like sisters. Consuelo told Bonnie about her plans for the Peach Festival. For the past two years, Consuelo had won a blue ribbon for her peach preserves, and she was determined to triumph again this year.
Standing in the warm, friendly kitchen, marveling at the way the housekeeper had come to accept her over the past few days, Bonnie felt a wonderful happiness settle over her. How on earth could she ever have found this wonderful ranch boring?
“You know something, Elizabeth,” Consuelo said, scrambling eggs in an iron skillet while Bonnie slipped wheat bread into the toaster.
“What?” Bonnie smiled.
“I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m really starting to like you.”
Consuelo’s words had Bonnie blushing. She ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.
“I mean it,” Consuelo insisted. “When Kurt first told me about your amnesia, I just knew it was some underhanded scheme you’d cooked up to hurt him again. I was ready to rip your tonsils out with my bare hands.”
No, what troubled him were the other sensations—this urge to protect her, his desire to wrap her in his arms when she cried and kiss away her tears, the strong need to help her regain her memory despite the unsettling revelations it was sure to bring.
“Would you like to watch one of your movies?” he asked, flicking on the light in the TV room.
“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she said.
Lord, how she’d changed. Kurt remembered a petulant, pouting Elizabeth who complained whenever he immersed himself in his job. Now, here she was encouraging him.
“It’ll keep,” he said gruffly. “Getting your memory back is more important right now. Which one shall we watch?”
“The one you spoke of before. The one with the drugstore soda fountain in it.”
“Some Can Love. You won an Oscar for your role as Mary Duncan, a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Remember?”
Beth shook her head. “No.”
Kurt turned on the TV.
“How many movies have I made?” Beth asked, wandering aimlessly around the room.
“Sixteen.”
“That many?”
“You’ve been acting since you were nineteen,” he replied, connecting to Netflix.
She sighed. “I wish I could remember.”
“That’s what we’re working on. Here, take this.” Kurt thrust the remote control in her hand, his gaze lingering on the forlorn expression skewing her face. “Have a seat. I’ll go microwave some popcorn and be back in a second.”
He dimmed the lights as he went out of the room, leaving Elizabeth to settle onto the couch. His heart strummed a little faster, but he didn’t know why.
Consuelo was cleaning out the refrigerator. “Where’s Elizabeth?” she asked.
“Watching Some Can Love. The doctor recommended it. I’m nuking us some popcorn.” Kurt took the popcorn from the pantry.
“Us?” Consuelo peered at him.
“Yeah. I thought I’d help her.”
“Kurt...”
“I know, I know.” He raised his palms in a defensive gesture. “Don’t light into me, Consuelo.”
“Be careful,” she warned.
“Beth really is different,” Kurt said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Please, Kurt, you can’t be one hundred percent sure she’s not acting.”
“You didn’t see her with Grant Lewis at church. She seemed totally frightened of him. I know she didn’t recognize him.”
“I don’t want her to hurt you again.”
The aroma of hot popcorn filled the room. Kurt shifted his weight. Consuelo was merely voicing his own concerns.
“She does seem much sweeter,” Consuelo conceded. “Very different. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was another person.”
Kurt nodded, a tightness squeezing his stomach. Yes, Beth was sweeter and kinder and more honest.
“But what happens when she gets her memory back?” Consuelo tossed half a head of shriveled iceberg lettuce into the garbage pail.
“Then she’ll go back to Los Angeles.” Kurt shrugged.
“You can’t fool me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re falling for her again.”
Kurt snorted. “I am not.”
“I see it in your eyes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Consuelo.” But his heart lurched. He was most definitely not falling for Elizabeth Destiny. He just felt sorry for her. Helping her was no different than helping the homeless acquire shelter or assisting the sick to find medical treatment.
“Be careful,” she warned again. “You know how you get when you have a cause to champion.”
BONNIE’S EYES WERE glued to the TV screen. From the moment the credits started to roll, she’d been hooked. Something about this felt so familiar, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. She didn’t really remember making the movie or even viewing it. No. It was something else. The act of snuggling into the sofa, watching the story unfold, stirred inside her a cozy feeling of comfort and security.
The fragrant smell of crisp popcorn preceded Kurt into the room. Bonnie hit the “pause” button and smiled.
He carried two glasses of cola and a bowl of popcorn on a tray. She scooted over and patted the cushion beside her. Kurt set the drinks on the coffee table and eased down next to her, putting the popcorn bowl between them.
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
She hit the “pause” button again, and the soundtrack came to life.
“When did this movie come out?” she whispered, reaching for a handful of buttery popcorn. Her elbow accidentally grazed his thigh, and she sucked in her breath at the rough feel of denim.
“Three years ago.”
On-screen the camera panned a cracked sidewalk in a squalid neighborhood. The soundtrack played “Rock Around The Clock.” The cars and clothing indicated the film was set in the late fifties.
“Here you come.” Kurt pointed at the screen. He leaned forward, his face animated. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Beth, nobody makes an entrance like you do.”
He’s excited, Bonnie thought, and her heart skipped a beat. Excited by her on-screen image. Why couldn’t he respond to her in the flesh with the same enthusiasm?
Kurt munched a mouthful of popcorn, and Bonnie followed his stare. She saw herself saunter down the sidewalk, her hips swaying, her breasts straining against her tight sweater.
Bonnie glanced down at her own chest. She wasn’t that well-endowed. Frowning, she attributed the difference to the magic of Hollywood.
Overgrown boys in leather jackets and ducktails whistled at her as she rounded the corner. She puckered her lips and blew them a kiss as steamy as any Marilyn Monroe would have dished up.
Embarrassed, Bonnie hid her face with a couch pillow. So odd to see herself on the screen like this and not remember a minute of it. Not just odd, but weird. The woman in the movie was a complete stranger.
“Beth?” Kurt set the popcorn on the table and turned his body toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She lowered the pillow and met his stare. “She’s not me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t move like that.”
“Sweetheart, you were acting.”
Sweetheart? Where had that come from? The word sent a thrill pulsing through her veins.
“It’s more than that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nothing feels right. Maybe we should turn it off.”
“I can’t begin to imagine what you must be going through,” he sympathized. “But let’s keep watching; maybe something will trigger your recall.”
Bonnie nodded and forced herself to concentrate on the movie. But Kurt’s presence was too distracting. Every time she tried to follow the storyline, she found her gaze drifting to study the contours of his rugged face, her nose twitching to breathe in his scent.
Kurt rested his arm on the back of the sofa. If she leaned back against it, her nape would touch his firm muscles.
“Here,” he said, moving his arm forward until it gently touched her shoulder. Bonnie thought she’d sink through the floor with sheer joy. “Here comes the part where you enter the drugstore. See if any of this matches your memory.”
Try as she might, she could not focus on the screen. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and tried to pay attention, but all she could think about was the sound of Kurt’s steady breathing, the smell of his spicy cologne mixing with the aroma of popcorn, the exhilarating feel of his hand against her skin.
He began to rub his thumb steadily across her back, his fingers kneading her shoulders. Bonnie gulped, fused to the spot by his intoxicating caress. What had gotten into him? Was he physically aroused by her image on the screen?
“Well?” he asked huskily.
Her eyes drifted half closed. “Huh?”
“Did that scene match the memory you experienced in the drugstore on Saturday?”
“No. I remembered being a little girl with my Aunt June working the soda fountain.” Bonnie shook her head at the TV. “Nothing like what’s in the movie.”
“That’s interesting.” Kurt continued massaging her shoulder.
The story on-screen played out, but Bonnie’s attention lay elsewhere. She didn’t care about the actress who looked so much like herself yet felt like a completely different person. She didn’t care about the handsome young movie hero grinning at her on-camera persona. At this moment, she didn’t even care about her amnesia. Only one thing dominated her mind—Kurt McNally and his magic hands.
“Do you remember Lance Westwood?” he asked.
“Who?” Bonnie almost purred from the delicious sensations.
“Your costar.”
“Should I?”
“You two had a love affair.”
“We did?” Bonnie frowned.
“In fact, you’d just broken up with him when we met.”
Bonnie studied the young actor on the screen. Lance Westwood was much too handsome. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect muscles. She vastly preferred Kurt. He looked like a real man, not some soft, pretty boy.
“Nope,” Bonnie said. “Don’t remember him.”
“I never could figure out why you went out with me after dating a guy like that.”
“You felt insecure? Heavens, Kurt, you’re twice the man he is.”
Kurt’s face flushed. “Later on, of course, I found out why you wanted me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you don’t remember any of this, Beth, but you should know the truth. You were marrying me for publicity and money.”
Bonnie rounded her shoulders and lowered her head. “Was I really so mercenary?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You don’t know how sorry I am.”
“I believe you.” Kurt pulled her into the curve of his arm. “I just wish it hadn’t taken an accident to bring out your good side.”
“Me, either.”
“Maybe when you get your memory back, you’ll have learned something from this experience. Maybe this all happened for a reason.”
“I’d like to believe that,” she said, her heart thumping faster as she gazed into his hazel eyes.
“Me too,” he whispered softly, his mouth very close to her cheek.
What was he saying? Had her efforts to prove herself a changed woman actually paid off? Could he possibly be considering a renewal of their relationship? The biggest question, was she ready for this?
Unnerved, Bonnie leaned forward and reached for her cola.
Lifting the glass to her lips, she stared straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed with the action on the screen. Lance Westwood was toying languidly with a lock of Elizabeth Destiny’s hair, his gaze fixed on her ample chest.
“This is where he kisses you,” Kurt whispered.
Heated embarrassment splashed through her like ice water, startling and unexpected. Bonnie squirmed as Lance’s lips came down hard on Elizabeth’s mouth.
Beside her, she heard Kurt inhale raggedly.
“I get jealous watching another man kiss you,” he confessed. “Especially when that man used to be your lover.”
“Take heart,” she said, trying her best to lighten the moment. “I don’t remember anyone’s kisses but yours.”
“Hey,” Kurt said, leaning nearer. “If it means all other men have been blocked from your mind, I think I like this amnesia stuff.”
His arm still rested across her shoulder. Bonnie clutched her cola glass between her fingers.
Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me now. Kiss me hard. Kiss me long. Bonnie caught her breath, waiting.
Kurt hesitated. She saw desire written on his face warring with self-control.
Her teeth parted. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
She ran her tongue along her lips.
Reaching up, he removed her glasses, folded them and set them on the coffee table, then he slipped the drink from her hand and settled it beside her glasses. Leaning back, he tightened his grip.
“Beth,” he whispered and buried his nose in her hair.
Bonnie closed her eyes and cherished the sound of his voice. He lightly pressed his lips to her ear, and a corresponding shiver raced down her spine.
He painted a trail of moist kisses down her jaw.
Bonnie groaned and tilted her head.
He ended at her chin, his beard stubble raking against her skin.
“Kurt,” Bonnie breathed, feeling as if she’d just been given the keys to heaven.
“Excuse me.”
They leaped apart, both of them swiveling their heads to stare at Consuelo standing in the doorway, arms akimbo.
Bonnie raised a hand to her lips. Kurt looked chagrined.
“I hate to interrupt your...movie.” Consuelo raised one eyebrow. “But Hub’s got a problem he needs to discuss with you, Kurt.”
“Sure, sure.” Kurt sprung up from the couch. He busied himself brushing wrinkles from his chambray shirt, carefully avoiding Bonnie’s eyes. “Be right there.”
Briefly, he turned back to Bonnie. “Keep watching,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll remember something.”
Then he disappeared out the door, looking very relieved to make his escape.
Chapter Thirteen
Kurt couldn’t say why he’d started rubbing Elizabeth’s shoulders, but once he started, he’d been unable to stop, drawn inexplicably to her natural warmth. Weird. He’d always considered Elizabeth a supremely cool person, but that last kiss had changed his mind. His lips felt as if they’d been seared by a blowtorch.
Good thing Consuelo had interrupted when she had. Her appearance had snapped him back to earth. Damn, why did Beth have to be so physically desirable? Her intoxicating scent, those innocent blue eyes, that petite little nose spelled nothing but trouble.
The woman confused him to no end. When Dr. Freely had first called about Elizabeth and her accident, Kurt had been adamantly opposed to bringing her to the ranch. If anyone had told him four days later he’d be wanting her to stay, he would have snorted derisively.
But that’s actually what he did want.
Be real, McNally. No matter how nice, how sweet, how perfect she seems now, all that will change the minute her memory returns.
So why on earth was he trying to help her remember? If he were smart, he’d avoid her as much as possible. He was opening himself up for a heap of heartache every time he gazed at her, touched her, kissed her. No matter how much he resolved to stay away, he found himself tempted.
Kurt stalked across the yard to where Hub stood silhouetted in the barn doorway. “What’s up?”
“Just got a call,” Hub said, “we’re two peach pickers short for tomorrow’s harvest.”
Groaning, Kurt ran a hand through his hair. “What happened?”
“One of the harvesters fell off the back of a truck over at the Double W and broke his leg.”
“And?”
“Jesse’s mother’s sick. He’s gotta go home.”
Kurt swore and kneaded his brow. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Where are we gonna find the extra hands at this late date?”
“I don’t know.”
Hub toyed with a pitchfork. “Almost everyone I can think of is already spoken for.”
“What about that guy we hired last year?” Kurt snapped his fingers. “What was his name?”
“I know who you mean. He left the state.”
“Damn.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to swallow your pride and take Elizabeth up on her offer.”
“What offer is that?”
“Remember, she said she wanted to help with the harvest.”
Kurt snorted. “Not very likely.”
“Why not? She’s surely different, Boss. I will concede that point. If she really wants to help, I say put her to work. Put her to the ultimate test. Physical labor. Find out once and for all if she’s pulling our legs or not.”
Elizabeth picking peaches in the hot July sun, battling wasps and ants and fruit flies? Hard to imagine. But what about sweet Beth? Well, yes, he could see Beth happily pitching in where she was needed, cheerfully enduring the annoyances involved in harvesting peaches.
What about your vow to avoid her at all costs? an irritating voice in the back of his mind reminded him.
“So,” Hub prompted, “you gonna ask her?”
“I guess so. What choice do I have?”
The harvest came first. He’d just have to rein in his emotions. He could do it. How many times had he hidden his feelings as a child, growing up in the orphanage where his wants and needs never came first. He’d become a master at hiding his own desires.
If he kept his hands and his lips to himself, he could pull it off. No two ways about it, Beth must never guess he was having warm feelings for her.
FLATTERED THAT KURT asked her to help with the peach harvest, Bonnie rose before dawn, eager to get started. She dressed in blue jeans, sneakers, and a pink long-sleeve shirt, then pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
Bubbling with excitement, she hurried downstairs to help Consuelo make breakfast. They chattered like sisters. Consuelo told Bonnie about her plans for the Peach Festival. For the past two years, Consuelo had won a blue ribbon for her peach preserves, and she was determined to triumph again this year.
Standing in the warm, friendly kitchen, marveling at the way the housekeeper had come to accept her over the past few days, Bonnie felt a wonderful happiness settle over her. How on earth could she ever have found this wonderful ranch boring?
“You know something, Elizabeth,” Consuelo said, scrambling eggs in an iron skillet while Bonnie slipped wheat bread into the toaster.
“What?” Bonnie smiled.
“I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m really starting to like you.”
Consuelo’s words had Bonnie blushing. She ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.
“I mean it,” Consuelo insisted. “When Kurt first told me about your amnesia, I just knew it was some underhanded scheme you’d cooked up to hurt him again. I was ready to rip your tonsils out with my bare hands.”
