Saddle Up

“I…I should go. My head suddenly feels kind of-”

She broke off, then jerked her eyes away from his.

Even though the sun had dwindled, turning to twilight, he could still see the heat as it invaded her throat, which drew his attention to her V-necked shirt, then to her breasts, making him wonder if they were flushed, as well. He cursed silently.

“Come on, let’s dance.” He knew his tone was brusque, but he didn’t give a damn. He was in bad shape.

“Why should we, Mr. Davis?”

Damned if he intended to beg! Still…“Because you flew all the way out here from Texas, you got caught up in the moment and now you’re feeling like a fool. Because you smell good, you look good, and you’re obviously not in any strut to find a man. But mainly because—”

“Oh, all right!”

He circled her arm with one hand, using his other to set the empty containers on the nearest picnic table, then guided her onto the cement floor beneath a metal roof.

At first she remained ramrod straight, looking beyond his shoulder. He wanted to shake her into compliance, but, of course, he didn’t, as everyone around would then be witness to his frustrations, not that anyone was paying attention to them.

The music was slow, and most couples were locked in embraces that were worthy of the bedroom. He smirked. Apparently the other women who’d won their men were more than happy with their situation.

Not so Bridget Martin. She was still as stiff and uncooperative as a board, even though they moved in perfect unison. Again, he couldn’t imagine what had driven her to come here, to take part in something she obviously abhorred. But the question that nagged him even more was, what had attracted her to him enough to make her bid a grand?

“Bridget, relax a little, okay?” he asked.

“I…can’t.” Her voice cracked.

For a minute he cursed himself for making her take part in something she didn’t want to. Then he thought better of it. Hell, she was a big girl. He wasn’t forcing her to remain in his arms. If she chose to leave, he couldn’t stop her.

Yet he didn’t intend to make it easy. “Normally, I’d say let your hair down, but yours is too short for that,” he muttered, noticing his voice had grown husky.