On a Snowy Christmas Night

Different was one thing. Interesting was a whole new ball game. For his own sake, maybe she was someone he should stay away from, period.

JESSE MCALLISTER was gorgeous, his manners perfect and Shea loved the gentle way he talked to his horse. Any normal woman with a pulse would’ve noticed his dark good looks and quiet confidence. Apparently she could count herself among them, which was an oddity in itself. Her awareness level barely reached simmer when it came to the opposite sex. Any pubescent attraction she’d experienced had always been edged out by fear and awkwardness. She’d quickly learned to compartmentalize. It was quite remarkable that she’d even hooked up with Brian.

So what on earth was this fluttering sensation over Jesse? Because he was nice? Because he paid her some attention? God, she hoped not. That would make her too much like her mother.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax as he helped her into the saddle. He was merely being polite, she reminded herself. Her flustered reactions were her problem, not his. What made the situation more difficult was the whole touching thing. Jesse was so casual about brushing her arm, tucking the blanket around her shoulders, cupping the back of her lower calf to make sure her foot was anchored in the stirrup. His hand had even accidentally grazed the front of her jacket earlier and he hadn’t batted an eye.

“The wind has picked up. It’ll be chilly riding back down. You ought to keep this around you.” He offered the blanket, and as if reading her mind, added, “We’ll take it nice and easy.”

“Thank you,” she said and exchanged Rambo’s reins for the blanket.

Jesse swung up into his saddle and nudged the gelding into the lead. The horse hadn’t advanced more than two feet when Jesse reined him in again. He eyed the struggle she was having with the blanket. Folding it in half made it more manageable as a shawl, but the wool was thick and heavy, and she was afraid she’d lose it halfway down the hill.

“Here.” He leaned over and helped her arrange the blanket so that her shoulders and arms were covered, yet she could still keep a firm grip.

She sighed. “You must think I’m twelve.”

He gave her that slow, easy smile of his. “Trust me, that’s not what I think.”

She didn’t understand her reaction. It was physical, tense, but not like being trapped. And then there was the oddly pleasant apprehension in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was the way his voice had lowered or the way his gaze roamed her face then lingered briefly on her lips. They were chapped. He was probably about to tell her to pick up some medicated balm while she was in town.

His eyes met hers, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Ready?”

Nodding, she stared at the slight tic in his jaw and hoped she hadn’t somehow annoyed him. She waited for him to go first and concentrated on clutching both the reins and the blanket. It was useless to try to figure out what had just happened. She was horrible at that sort of thing. Computer glitches? She was a whiz. But human glitches, she was better off ignoring.

When he reached the bottom of the slope he turned around and waited for her. That only made her more self-conscious and she wished he’d kept going. “Okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“You can give Gypsy her head. She’ll follow Rambo until we get to flatter ground.”

Shea smiled.

“You still laughing at my horse’s name?”

“It is funny.”

“You’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

“With a name like Rambo? I don’t think so.”

Jesse laughed. It was a great sound. He leaned back and adjusted his hat while he watched her and Gypsy finish tackling the descent.

“You’re making me nervous,” she finally admitted. “Keep going. You don’t have to wait.”

“Yeah, I do, but I won’t watch. How’s that?” he said, amusement in his voice as he wheeled his horse around.

She darted a look from the rocky snow-dusted ground to his broad shoulders. “Not much better,” she murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” She held her breath until she and Gypsy were safely down the slope and standing beside Jesse.

He eyed the blanket that was again sagging off her back but he made no move to fix it. Crazily, she wished that he would. It was only curiosity, an experiment to see if she felt anything from him touching her again.

Her gaze was drawn to the shallow cleft in his chin, already dark with stubble. The flutter picked up, right behind her breastbone, and suddenly she was anxious to get back to the Sundance. To be in her car and away from the bewildering McAllisters.

Away from Jesse.

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