ThE BUCKHORN LEGACY

She hadn’t forgotten that Buckhorn was beautiful in the summer, but somehow the clarity of it had been blunted. The colors, the smells, the texture of the air and the lush grass and the velvet sky…

Casey stroked one finger over her cheek, down to her throat, then her shoulder. “Hell, if anything, you’re more attractive than ever, and you were plenty attractive at seventeen.”

Her heart punched painfully against her rib cage. How had the conversation gotten out of hand so quickly? Her laugh sounded more believable this time. “I’m guessing you must have lowered your standards.”

Casey stared at her, not comprehending.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ve been in the car all day, Case. I’m dressed in what can only be called my comfortable clothes—and that’s if I’m being generous. No makeup, my hair’s windblown…”

“You look sexy as hell to me.”

The way he growled that pronouncement robbed Emma of clear thought. She searched her brain for something to say, some way to derail him. “How long will it take Damon to get back, do you think?”

Casey didn’t take the hint. He didn’t stop touching her either. He smoothed her hair behind her ear and curled his fingers around her head. “Men only pretend to be friends with women to get one thing.”

Goaded, Emma shifted around to face him. His hand dropped, but his gaze, glittering in the darkness, remained steady.

Even the gearshift between them didn’t hinder Casey’s movements. He got so close that Emma inhaled the warmth of his masculine smell on every breath.

“Is that right?” Her voice shook, her hands trembled. “Then I guess we’re enemies, because there’s never been a single thing you wanted from me.”

Beneath the fall of her hair, Casey’s hand curved around her neck in a gentle restraint that felt far too unbreakable. Trying to be inconspicuous, she pressed into the car door. It didn’t help.

With near-tactile intensity, his gaze stroked her face, then rested on her mouth.

“True.” There was a heavy, thrumming beat of silence, and Casey whispered, “Until now.”

* * *

KNOWING HE PUSHED HER, knowing it was unfair, Casey tried to pull back. But damn it, he wanted her. Seeing her again…it hit him like a ton of bricks, throwing him off balance, making him defensive and fractious and keenly alert. Emma had influenced his life when he hadn’t thought that possible. Forgetting her hadn’t been easy.

In fact, he’d never managed it.

Just the opposite.

At twenty-seven, his solid position within his stepgrandfather’s company should have been enhanced with a wife on his arm and a couple of kids underfoot, just as he’d always intended. Instead, no woman had ever quite measured up.

The bitch of it was, he had no idea what they needed to measure up to. He didn’t even know what he was looking for.

Until moments ago, when he saw Emma standing there.

As always, her eyes had been huge and soft, and all his senses had quickened with recognition. He hadn’t experienced that rush of pure, white-hot intensity since… No, he wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t give her credit she didn’t deserve. She’d run out on him and he wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for that. But he was more than ready to take what he’d often regretted missing so many years ago.

Her small hands lifted to press against his chest, burning him, heightening the ache. “Casey…”

The way she said his name was familiar. Did she want him to stop or, like him, was she anxious to feel the flash fire of their unique chemistry? Her appearance, her attitude, were different. But her natural sensuality hadn’t waned at all. Instead, it had aged and ripened and gotten better, richer. No woman had ever affected him like Emma did, and now, with no effort at all, she’d gotten him hot.

She wasn’t a lonely, insecure child anymore.

She wasn’t afraid, wasn’t mistreated.

He had no reason to hold back, no reason to still feel protective. Damn it.

Without thought, Casey let his fingers stroke the nape of her neck. Just as it always had, her softness drew him, the remembered texture of her skin, her hair and her scent… God, he loved her scent. Heady and warm, it mingled with the damp fog and the gentle evening breeze.

He felt alive. He felt challenged.

“Emma?”

Her thick lashes lifted.

“Are you married?”

She shook her head, causing the silky weight of her hair to glide over his arm.

“Engaged?”

“No.” She pulled her head back a little and Casey kissed her throat, nuzzling her fragrant skin, breathing her in. A sound of near desperation slipped past her open lips. “Are you…?”

“Hell no. There’s no one.” He didn’t want to talk about that though. “You feel good, Em. You smell even better.”

“Casey.”

If she kept saying his name like that, he’d lose it. “You know, since you and Damon aren’t involved…” If she had no commitments to anyone, then why not? It didn’t matter that he rushed things. They were both grown now, both adults, so Emma could damn well make a rational decision now, rather than one based on fear and insecurity.

“Damon and I are friends.” A measure of steel laced her declaration.

Had she misunderstood his suggestion?

Casey drew back so he could see her face. Her heavy lashes half covered her eyes as she watched him warily. She remained guarded, but she didn’t push him away. He tried a different tack. “You’re staying at the Cross Roads tonight.”

“Yes.”

Adulthood had provided new dimension to her features. Her cheekbones were more noticeable, her mouth wider, fuller, her jaw firm. She was lovely—and he had to have her. “You’ll be sleeping alone?” Which would make it easy for him to join her.

Her gaze flickered away, and his stomach knotted even before she spoke. “That’s none of your business, Casey.”

Frustration unfurled in his guts, making his tone raw with sarcasm. “Sounds like a no to me.”

Chin lifted, she faced him squarely and confirmed his suspicions. “No. I won’t sleep alone.”

Very slowly, doing his best to rein in his seldom-seen temper, Casey released her and moved back to his own seat. The sexual turbulence remained, gnawing at him, testing him, but now other, darker emotions gripped him too. He didn’t want to study them too closely. “I see.”

He could feel her turmoil. And he could taste her interest, damn her. It was there, shimmering between them. Yet, she’d be with Damon, her friend.

Once long ago, Casey had been her friend. Probably her best friend, if not the only one. He’d told her then that he didn’t share. That much hadn’t changed. He wanted her, but on his terms.

And that’s how he’d have her.