Read Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) for Free Online

against his back.
    He reined the filly to a stop beside a small creek. Hannah still clung to him. He closed his hands over hers. They felt soft and small and exceedingly vulnerable.
    “Hannah,” he said, turning slightly so he could see her over his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
    “Yes.” He loved the breathless quality of her voice and the flush on her face. She didn’t look like a woman who had just been rescued from a runaway horse; she looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved. “Yes,” she said again. Her voice was stronger this time, and she smiled. “It was magnificent.”
    “Magnificent?”
    “Absolutely magnificent. Where did you learn to ride like that?”
    Jim chuckled. “You’re quite a woman. Do you know that, Hannah Donovan? Any other woman in your position would be shaking and probably crying— and you’re asking where I learned to ride.”
    “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
    Instead of answering, he swung off the horse, then he reached up and helped her down. Even when her feet touched the ground, his hands lingered on her waist. Gazing at her, he forgot all about her question. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held such a tempting bundle in his arms. She was soft and flushed and laughing, very much a woman. Looking into her bright face, he thought how easy it would be to make love to her. Right there. On the grass. Her guard was down; she was feeling grateful. He almost lowered her to the ground, but an untimely attack of honor held him back.
    Instead, his hands tightened on her waist. Stepping in so close their thighs touched, he studied her. He saw the tip of her pink tongue flick out and slowly circle her lips. A small trickle of sweat rolled down the side of her face.
    “You’re hot.”
    “Yes. It’s the excitement of the ride.”
    His eyes searched her face, then swung downward to the tiny pulse spot at the base of her throat. It was fluttering like a captive hummingbird. “No. It’s us, Hannah.”
    She grew very still. “I won’t let it be.”
    “Why?”
    Instead of answering, she changed the subject with a question of her own. “Who taught you to ride?”
    “My friend. Colter Gray Wolf.”
    “Native American?”
    “Apache.”
    “Awww.” The way she said it, in a long-drawn-out sigh, made him think of love sounds. His right hand slid downward, slowly tracing the curve of her hips, and slipped over her blue-jean-clad thigh until it was resting on the fullest part of her buttocks. With a subtle shifting he brought her hips into his. They were a perfect fit.
    She made the small sound again. “Awww.” He didn’t know if it was a sound of wonder or satisfaction or need. All he knew was that it wrapped around him like velvet. His passion blossomed.
    Her eyes widened, the blue deeper than ever. “An exotic man,” she whispered. “I once knew an exotic man. How did you meet Colter Gray Wolf?”
    Jim didn’t want to talk about Colter Gray Wolf; he wanted to ask about her exotic man. Who in the hell was he, and why did her voice go soft and dreamy when she spoke of him? The vehemence of his feelings surprised him. That was no way to get through this damned Delta wedding with his manners and most of his honor intact.
    He firmly squashed his maverick jealousy and answered her question.
    “Several years ago he dragged me out of a waterfront bar and patched me up. He’s a doctor.”
    She reached up and touched the faint scar on his forehead. “This?” Her hand gently followed the scar line across his forehead to his eyebrow.
    “Yes.” He covered her hand with his, pressing it against his face.
    “I’m glad.”
    Jim smiled. “Glad he patched me up or glad he taught me to ride?”
    “Both.” Her tongue flicked over her lips again. He leaned forward, imagining the feel of that tongue on his flesh. “I would have been all right, you know.”
    “Would you?”
    “Yes. I ride well.”
    She made a small move to free her hand. Reluctantly he let it