He cupped his hand at her neck, then let it slide down to her collarbone, burning a path toward her breasts.

“You aren’t wearing much.”

“I took a bath. Threw on this nightgown.”

He leaned back, scanned her body. “Sexy.”

Her ni**les were tight points awaiting his touch. He slid his thumb over them and she damned her gown for being in the way. She gasped, wanting more, needing to feel his hand against the taut, aching buds. This tease of his thumbs rolling over her made her legs shake, made her wet and needy and ready to pull the gown off so he could cup her breasts. But he laid his hand between her breasts, then snaked his fingers down over her belly. It quivered in response. He tugged on the hem of the gown and bunched it in his fist.

“I want to take a lot of time with you, Valerie, but I don’t have much patience.”

“I don’t need it.”

He tightened his hold on the fabric, lifted it over her h*ps to bare her lower body to the cool night air.

“You na**d under this?” he asked, his gaze direct, probing, hot.

“Yes.”

“Damn. Part your legs.”

Mason was no-nonsense about everything, including sex. He went after what he wanted, a trait that had always thrilled her, especially now when she didn’t want hearts and flowers and sweet-talking. She wanted him with a primal passion that belied her usual reserved nature.

She broadened her stance, giving him access.

He wasted no time, sliding his palm across her sex. She gripped his shoulders at the first contact of his calloused hand on her flesh, his touch sparking pleasure peaks along her clit. She shuddered at the contact, arched against him, craving more.

He was relentless, not giving her time to breathe as he rubbed her flesh and slid his finger inside her. Heat and moisture pooled as her pu**y gripped his finger in a tight vise.

“Look at me, Val.”

She tilted her head back, her body shaking with desire as she read the tension on his face when he touched her. Mason knew her body like no one else ever could. Maybe that’s why she’d never let another man touch her. Who could give her this kind of pleasure but him?

She rose up on her toes to draw closer to his touch, waves of pleasure undulating around her. She arched against him, rocking her sex against his hand, silently begging him to take her there.

“I’ve missed being inside you.” His whispered words were harsh and filled with promise as he wrapped his arm around her back, drove his hand against her cl*tand shattered her.

He dipped down and took her mouth, drinking in her cries of pleasure as wave after wave crashed over her, leaving her shaky and senseless. He took her down easy, his finger still inside her, pumping slow and easy.

He’d always mastered her body like this, made her forget where she was, who she was. Who they were.

And who they weren’t anymore.

He eased his finger out of her, smiled down at her, made her ache inside for more. It would be so easy to touch him, to unbuckle his belt, slide her hand in his jeans and wrap her fingers around the hot, hard heat of his cock. Even the thought of f**king him outside, sheathing him inside her, made her weak in the knees.

But she’d already lost her mind once tonight, had connected with him in a way she’d sworn never to do again. And she wanted to again, wanted him inside her so fiercely it shook her to her core.

She shouldn’t want that much. She shouldn’t want Mason. This was wrong. Hadn’t she spent two years away from the ranch so she could get over him, so she could stand next to him without feeling the bone-melting desire for him that had always made her lose her senses?

Maybe two years hadn’t been long enough.

She took a step back and his smile died.

“What’s wrong?”

She smoothed her hair back, bent down and reached for the blanket to wrap it around her like a shield of armor. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

He arched a brow. “Why not?”

She felt awful, like she’d led him on. She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t meant for this to happen at all. “I think you know why not. We’re divorced.”

His jaw set in what she knew was irritation, he said, “Doesn’t mean we can’t fuck.”

“Is that all we are together?” Then again, he should be pissed. At her. He had every right. God, she was confused. “And don’t you have a girlfriend? What is she going to think?”

He rubbed his temple. “What the hell are you talking about? What girlfriend? I don’t—”

She held up her hand. “Never mind. Maybe I’m wrong. And why don’t you have a girlfriend? It’s been two years, Mason. You have to let me go.”

He stared at her, shook his head. “Woman, you make no sense at all.” He turned and walked away, down the stairs, blending into the darkness.

Valerie stood on the porch, watching him disappear, feeling a hundred times stupid for letting this happen. For hurting him, when she should have known better.

She was always hurting him. And herself in the process.

She should have never come back, no matter how much Jolene demanded it.

Two years hadn’t been enough time.

seven

“you’re grumpy as a horny bull with no cows,” Jolene announced the next day.

Mason decided to ignore Jolene, instead putting all his concentration on rewiring the section of fence they’d set out to work on today.

“Are you deliberately ignoring me?” she asked.

“Trying to.”

She bent beside him, clipped off the end of the wire that Mason had just wound tight around the top of the post, then stood, moving down the line next to him. “It’s Val, isn’t it?”

“Leave it alone, Jo.”

“Oh, right. She gets you all riled up and I have to deal with the aftereffects. So I don’t think I’ll leave it alone. What did she do now to piss you off?”

Got him hard, came apart under his hand, then said the whole thing was a mistake. She made him half-crazy, confused the hell out of him. He had no idea what Valerie wanted, didn’t know why he’d bothered to step up on the porch last night. He should have ignored her, walked by without saying a word. But she’d looked so damn lost sitting up there by herself. And he was just f**king stupid enough to want to comfort her.

He should have known that comfort would lead to sex. Or almost sex. She’d gotten off, anyway. Being with her only led to complications. Complications he didn’t need.

“She didn’t do anything. Just let it go.”

“She doesn’t really know what she wants, Mason. And she still loves you.”

He choked out a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t you? Bet she’s confused as hell, running hot and cold, isn’t she?”

He didn’t answer.

“Thought so. Let me talk to her.”

He shifted his gaze up to Jolene. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know she doesn’t like to talk about the two of us, especially not to anyone else.”

Sunlight shadowed Jolene’s features, but Mason could well imagine the giant grin on her face. “And pissing off my sister gives me a particular pleasure. Since she doesn’t live on the ranch anymore, I’ve missed our tussles. Don’t deny me that.”

He shrugged. “What you do with your sister is up to you. Don’t do it on my account. I can take care of my relationship with Valerie on my own.”

“Yeah. You’re doing a bang-up job so far.”

He sighed, tipped his hat up and leaned one arm against the fence post. “What the hell do you think I should do? You’re right. She runs hot and cold. One minute she says what she wants, and the next she wants something different. She left for a reason, Jo. She didn’t want to stay.”

Jolene laid her gloved hand on top of Mason’s. “She left because she was scared.”

“I know what she’s scared of. I can’t change how she feels. Neither can you. Leave it alone. You might think you can bully her, but she’ll just dig in her heels and run again.”

Jolene sighed, turned away and leaned against the fence. “You’re probably right. But it frustrates the hell out of me when I know she still loves you.”

“I don’t know about that. I used to think she did. Now I’m not so sure. And either way, you can’t force her to stop being afraid. She’s either going to get over it, or she isn’t.”

“You can live with that?”

“I can’t decide it for her. Those choices need to be hers.” He picked up his tools. “Come on, there’s a section of old fence that needs to be cut off and relaid a quarter mile south. Let’s ride.”

Ride, work and not think about Valerie. That’s what Mason needed to do today. He’d done too damn much thinking about her already and it was taking time away from his job. A ranch didn’t run itself.

valerie busied herself going over the ranch paper-work that Jolene had insisted she and Brea catch up on. Tedious, mile-high financial and inventory reports, but Jolene said they both needed to understand the ranch’s net worth and current inventory before they got together to make any decisions about the future ownership.

Since he had no heirs, Uncle Ronald’s portion of the ranch ownership automatically went to all three sisters, as agreed upon when Ronald and Valerie’s father had generated joint ownership in the Bar M. So Uncle Ronald’s will would have no bearing on the ownership of the ranch.

“And I thought technical reports were hideously boring,” Brea said, pushing the chair back in the office and yawning.

Valerie nodded. “I’m sure Jo is doing this to punish us for leaving the ranch in her hands.”

“In her more than capable hands, from the looks of these reports. The growth in the Bar M the past ten years has been nothing short of phenomenal. She and Mason have done an amazing job.”

Yes, they had. Valerie remembered Mason talking about plans for the ranch. She’d only half paid attention. The Bar M had been her parents’ ranch. After they died, she wasn’t much interested in what happened to it. Now she saw what a mistake that thinking had been. Her parents would be sad to know she hadn’t taken an active part in making the Bar M grow, in nourishing their dream.

But Jolene had. And so had Mason. They’d kept her parents’ homestead flourishing and profitable. “Jo and Mason have done wonders for the ranch.”

Brea sniffed. “I don’t know about you, Val, but I don’t feel like we deserve any part of it. I’ve been so busy with my life in Tulsa, I didn’t pay much attention to what they were doing out here. And to look over these reports now . . . wow.”

“Yeah. Wow, indeed. While you and I selfishly went about our lives, Jolene and Mason have been busting their asses making something out of the Bar M. Mom and Dad would have been proud.”

“Of them.”

“Yes. Of them.” Valerie was ashamed of her fear and her cowardice. And yet she still couldn’t see herself staying here, being a rancher’s wife. Being Mason’s wife. Throwing her heart full-fledged into a relationship, knowing that at any moment it could be taken away. Loving someone was dangerous.

Just then Jolene burst through the door of the office, her hands, shirt and jeans covered in blood. “Valerie. Come now.”

Valerie flew out of the chair. “Are you hurt?” she asked as she caught up to Jolene, grabbed her arm and swung her around.

“It’s not me. Come on.”

“Hang on a second.” Valerie dashed upstairs to grab her medical bag, slipped into her boots and practically flew down the stairs. Jolene was waiting impatiently at the door. Without a word, they ran out the door.

“What happened?

“Knife slipped. Got him in the leg.”

“Who?” Valerie asked as they jumped into the Jeep.

“Mason.”

Valerie went cold; her heart stuttered and her throat went dry. “Mason? How bad?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of blood. He wanted to hop on his horse and come back here. But there’s blood pouring everywhere and I wouldn’t let him.”

Jolene drove fast, zooming down the road, then off-road as she sailed into the pasture. Valerie held on to the door handle as the Jeep went flying over hard rock and bumps in the field. She saw Mason’s horse tethered along the fence line. He was on the ground, still conscious, thankfully. Before Jolene came to a complete stop, Valerie flew out of the Jeep; she dug her heels in and pushed off into a dead run, her heart pounding.

“Jesus, Valerie, you’re white as a sheet,” Mason said.

“Shut up.” She dropped her bag beside her, slipped on latex gloves and grabbed a scissors.

“Hey. Don’t cut those.”

“Shut up,” she said again, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Right now Mason was a patient. That’s all she’d allow herself to think about.

“Jo, go get some of the hands. We’re going to need help getting him into the Jeep when we’re done here.”

“Got it.”

“I don’t need—”

“Shut up, Mason.”

“You’re a mean doctor.”

She ignored that, too, and cut away his jeans from the bottom up and over his knee, then gently pulled away the material. The blood was fresh, the gash on the top of his thigh deep. Dear God, it was so close to his femoral artery. A few more inches . . .

“It’s not bad,” he said. “I was just a dumbass and stabbed myself when the clippers slipped.”

“It is bad. You need stitches. You’re damn lucky you didn’t nick an artery or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”