"You can have both now."

"It doesn’t work that way, sunshine," Luke whispered, his eyes narrowed against memories. "Not on the Rocking M."

Before Carla could ask Luke what he meant, one lean hand slid between her legs, seeking the softness that was concealed by dark curls. Her thoughts scattered as she felt again the gentle, probing caress of his fingertips. When he tested her silken depths, his name rushed between her parted lips in a startled cry as her knees gave way.

A few instants later Carla found herself back on the sleeping bag with Luke smiling down at her.

"You look surprised," he murmured. "Didn’t anyone ever warn you that your knees can give way?"

"I didn’t believe them," she admitted huskily. "I do now. You turn my bones to honey."

Luke’s eyes closed and his breath came in with a swift, husky sound as he bent over Carla and whispered, "Turn to honey for me. Let me taste your sweetness."

He kissed the sensitive curves of her ears, of her lips, of her breasts. Her navel fascinated him. He returned to the shadowed dimple again and again, probing with the sleek tip of his tongue, biting gently, making her moan with die unexpected sensations radiating out from her core. His caresses were like raindrops, a brushing of his mouth over her skin and then another brush and another until sensations overlapped and ran together, no beginning and no end, just heat gathering and rippling over her body, making her twist in slow motion as pleasure gathered, filling her until she moaned.

The touch of his tongue and the edge of his teeth on her legs came as a surprise and a very sharp pleasure. The warm pressure of his palms parting her thighs was another kind of caress, another kind of pleasure. When he pressed harder in silent request, asking that she open herself to him, she gave herself with a graceful abandon that nearly undid him. Slowly he bent down, tasting her with an intimate caress that made her cry out in surprise and passion.

"It’s all right," Luke murmured, brushing the sensitive inner surface of Carla’s thighs with his cheeks, gentling her even as his teeth took tiny, tiny bites of her softness. "You’re all honey," he breathed against her. "So sweet. Don’t fight me, sunshine. Let me have you this way. No risk, no pain, just…this."

The melting caress Luke gave Carla tore a wild, low cry from her throat. He traced her softness very lightly, silently coaxing and reassuring her. Then his caresses changed, urging her rather man seducing, demanding rather than gentling, consuming her in a shattering intimacy that brought her to ecstasy again and again, his dark words and her rippling cries blending with the falling rain, until finally she lay spent and trembling in the aftermath of wild ecstasy.

Only then did Luke lay beside Carla, hold her, gently kiss the tears from her eyelashes.

"Don’t do this to me again, sunshine," Luke whispered, not knowing if Carla heard. "Please. Don’t,"

15

Even weeks later, the memory of that morning in September Canyon made Carla’s breath catch. Luke had given her so much and had taken nothing for himself. Nor had he allowed her to give him anything in return. When she had calmed enough to draw a breath without having it break into fragments, he had stood up and walked out into the rain, leaving her alone with the echoes of his whispered plea.

Don’t do this to me again, sunshine. Please. Don’t.

Luke had done everything possible to make certain neither one of them was tempted into revisiting the passionate landscape of their dreams. He worked long days out on the range, getting up before dawn and rarely returning to the big house before ten o’clock. At meals he spoke to Carla when courtesy or necessity required it Beyond that he said nothing to her.

And he walked across the room to avoid touching her.

At first Carla had thought that Luke’s deliberate distancing of himself from her would pass, that he would allow himself to talk to her, to touch her, to be touched by her in more than physical ways. But hours had become days and days had become weeks. Luke hadn’t relented. If anything, he had become more accomplished at evading even the remote chance of being alone with her. Day after day he eluded her until all her days on the Rocking M were gone.

Even today, the last one she was supposed to spend on the ranch. Tomorrow Carla was scheduled to leave the Rocking M. Tomorrow she was supposed to turn her back on a lifetime of dreams and the man she loved.

Why won’t Luke even talk to me? Doesn’t he know I love him? Doesn’t he know I’m not like his mother or his aunts? Why won’t he even give us a chance?

Tonight I’ve got to talk to him. Somehow I’ve got to make him understand. I can’t leave tomorrow with this polite distance between us, as though September Canyon were only a dream and now I’m awake, aching…

The sound of something boiling over on the stove brought Carla out of her unhappy thoughts. She turned the gravy off and began mopping up. The burner hissed angrily at the touch of the cloth while she worked. Just as she finished, the back door slammed and the sound of booted feet rang in the silence.

Carla spun around with a hope she couldn’t wholly conceal, any more than she could hide her disappointment that it was Ten rather than Luke. Even so, she smiled in greeting, putting aside her unhappiness as she always did when other people were around. But she was slower to conceal her feelings today, and her smile wasn’t quite steady.

"Hi," Carla said. "There’s nothing heavy to lift off the stove tonight."

"Then I’ll just steal a cup of coffee," he said, watching her intently.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I was just going to ask you the same question."

"Everything’s fine. Dinner will be on time and big enough to feed an army."

"That isn’t what I meant." Ten hesitated, swore under his breath and said bluntly, "You look unhappy."

"I’m always unhappy to be leaving the Rocking M," Carla said, her voice as matter-of-fact as she could make it. "Don’t you remember? I used to pitch a regular fit when it was time to go back to Boulder."

"You were going back to school, then. What are you going back to now?"

"Actually, I’m going to help Cash wrestle with his doctoral thesis. He’s a whiz at cards and hard rock mining, but typewriters frustrate him."

Ten started to say something, thought better of it and shrugged. "We’re sure going to miss you."

"Thanks." Unshed tears scorched Carla’s eyelids. Impulsively she gave Ten a hug. "I’ll miss you, too."

Ten wrapped his arms around Carla, lifting her off the floor in a bear hug just as the back door slammed again.

"Put her down."

The tone of Luke’s voice made Carla stiffen. Automatically she moved to end the hug. Ten’s arms tightened, holding her captive. With a taunting lack of speed, Ten lowered Carla’s feet to the floor, released her and turned to confront Luke.

"Something wrong, boss?"

Carla winced. She had learned that Ten only used the word "boss" when he thought Luke was out of line.

"Dinner is ready," she said quickly to Luke. "I’ll set an extra plate. I wasn’t expecting you."

"I figured that out right away," Luke drawled coolly, "when I walked in and found you practicing your newfound techniques on my ramrod. Let me give you a bit of advice, schoolgirl. Ten doesn’t like being tripped and beaten to the floor any more than I do."

The sardonic words caught Carla completely unprepared. Luke had been so polite to her since September Canyon, so proper and distant Not by so much as a word or a look had he alluded to what had passed between them; and now he was all but saying she had thrown herself at him and he had been unhappy at the result.