Hold Me Close

Finally, I caught sight of him. Matt, I corrected myself. He had a name and it was Matt. Or Mr. Something-or-other, and it wasn’t Mr. Hottie.
He was talking to one of the other riders and though there were buckle bunnies hovering nearby, he didn’t seem to notice them. I forced myself to take a step in his direction, and then another. One more step and he caught sight of me. Oh, holy jeez. His eyes were a steel gray and they landed on me with the intensity and accuracy of a missile guidance system. For a second, I couldn’t breathe and my feet faltered.
Boss. Boss. Boss.
My whole body seemed to go haywire as those eyes assessed me. Without looking away, he said something to the rider and the other man walked off.
The path was clear. He stood waiting for me to finish crossing the short distance between us. His dark hair had a crease from wearing a cowboy hat and his skin was bronzed from being in the sun. He didn’t ride a desk; owning Hawk’s Landing took him into the outdoors every day. His features were almost perfect. Almost. The slight ridge in his nose and the severity of his jaw added just enough imperfection to make him real. Touchable.
I swallowed down an excess of saliva. Where the hell had that thought come from? This man was my boss. Or he would be my boss. Either way, he was off limits. Yeah, but I was pulled to him as if by a pheromone tractor beam.
Licking my lips, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and forced my shoulders back. Act confident, be confident. That was what my older sister, Sheila, used to say. Here was hoping Sheila knew what the hell she was talking about.
“Well, what do we have here?” the hottie cowboy said as I drew near. Matt. His name was Matt. I needed to get my head on straight. For the millionth time, I reminded myself that while this guy might be a cowboy, and yes, he was sexy as hell…he was also my boss. Boss!
His gaze raked over every inch of me, from my well-worn leather boots to the top of my head and everywhere—yes, everywhere—in between. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowed for just a moment.
I started to smile and hold out my hand, but he cut me off before I could introduce myself. “Must be my lucky day if a sweet little thing like you is seeking me out.”
I blinked up at him in surprise, stopped in my tracks. I’d been wrong. Those eyes weren’t a steely gray. That sounded cold, clinical, when his gaze was anything but. His gaze burned. It singed my skin wherever it roamed. I felt my nipples harden.
“Uh, I’m Rachel.” My hand was still partially extended, hanging awkwardly between us until he grasped it in his.
Oh dear. Oh my. Never in my life would I have guessed that holding a man’s hand could feel so…sensual. I felt so feminine since it was huge, all but engulfing mine. Maybe I was overreacting. Okay, I was definitely overreacting. But there was no denying that his calloused, firm grip did something to me. It sent a jolt of electricity right to my clit. The heat that had scorched my skin was in my blood, heating my core, turning my insides to jelly.
And he sensed it. His lips were curled up in cynical amusement and his expression was knowing.
Oh god, he knew I was turned on. That crazy inferno of heat rushed up to my face and my cheeks caught fire. All this from just a handshake.
He chuckled softly and took a step closer to me so I could smell his heavenly, earthy scent. It was a mix of leather and grass and sweat and something I couldn’t out my finger on. Whatever it was, it seemed to be a panty melting concoction specially made to drive me wild. It was working.
I almost moaned when he leaned closer, his mouth tantalizingly near my ear. “What brings a nice girl like you to a rodeo?”
“I, um—I, uh…” I took a deep breath and tried again.
“This isn’t a place for someone like you,” he advised, checking out every inch of me.
Why wasn’t this a place for me? I was just introducing myself. A woman in a pair of very short Daisy Duke’s and cowboy boots caught my eye. Oh.
“No, it’s not that. I like watching—”
“You do, do you?” His voice was low, suggestive. My cheeks could not possibly get any hotter without bursting into flames. His tone said that he knew my every, intimate, dirty thought…and he liked it.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the rockets of desire that his husky, knowing voice was setting off. “I wanted to tell you—”
His hand on my waist silenced me instantly. The words I’m your new office manager remained unspoken as I froze at the unexpected contact. He was being really forward and huh, it felt good.
“What did you want to tell me?” he asked. He was a good foot taller than me but he leaned in so close we were practically eye level. His eyes were so gray, but I figured they’d probably change color depending on what he wore. “More importantly, what do you like to watch?”