Quinn by R.C. Ryan

but he’d been prepared for a much longer ordeal and was thrilled to have it over with.
    He glanced down at her with a smile, but the smile faded when he realized that she wasn’t responding.
    “Cheyenne.” He brought his face close to hers.
    She was out cold.
    He picked her up and carried her through the doorway and into a formal dining room. Beyond that he spotted a great room, with comfortable sofas arranged around a huge fireplace. He deposited her on one of the sofas and covered her with an afghan he found folded over the arm.
    Finding a log already in place on the grate, he added kindling from a basket and got a fire started. Content that the room was comfortably warm, he crossed to the sofa and sat on the edge, rubbing her hands.
    He saw her lids flicker, then open.
    For a fraction of a second she appeared confused. Then her eyes rounded and focused on him.
    “Is it over?” Her words were slurred.
    “Yeah. Can you move your arm?”
    Very carefully she flexed her arm. “Ouch. It’s tender.”
    “Sorry. It may take a while before the last of the pain is gone. I hope it’s not as bad as the dislocation.”
    She gave a slight shake of her head, as though speaking took too much effort. “Not so… bad now.”
    “Good. That’s a start. If it doesn’t improve within a few hours, you might want to think about going to town to have Dr. Walton look at it.”
    “The town’s a good… two hours from here.”
    “Yeah. But I’m no doctor. I think I’d feel better if—”
    “Quinn.” She lifted her left hand to his mouth to still his words. A dreamy smile played on her lips. Her head was still spinning. She was, she realized, pleasantly drunk. At some other time she might have been embarrassed. Right now, it made her want to giggle. “Thanks for what you did.”
    “You’re welcome.” At the touch of her fingertips he felt the sudden jolt to his system. He absorbed a rush of heat and blamed it on the fire. “But I didn’t do much. You were the one suffering.”
    “It’s not just what you did for my shoulder.” Her palm moved over his cheek, then upward to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You saved my life.”
    He went still, enjoying the curl of pleasure down his spine at her simple touch. “Now how do you figure that?”
    “That mustang.” Her voice softened to a dreamy sigh. “If I’d have been caught in that stall alone, I could have been trampled. Nobody would have found me. I could have died.”
    “Don’t let yourself think about that.”
    “Okay.” She smiled up into his eyes. “I’ll think about you instead. My hero.” Her hand cupped his head and she began drawing him closer. “Have I told you that you’re easy to look at?”
    He grinned. “No. I guess you forgot.”
    “Pretty hard to forget you.” She gave a long, deep sigh. “Hold me, Quinn.”
    “I don’t think I’d better do that. You’ll regret it later.”
    “Nuh-uh. No regrets.” She gave a deep, throaty laugh. “Come on. Hold me, Quinn.”
    He didn’t need any coaxing. His arms were already closing around her. But only because he wanted to soothe. At least that was the excuse he gave himself.
    “I didn’t tell you.” She paused, trying to remember what she wanted to tell him.
    “Tell me what?”
    “Hmm? Oh. That I knew about you. Well, not exactly about you. I didn’t recognize you when you first said your name. But I’d heard about the dreamy, sexy Conway men.”
    “Yeah?” His grin was quick and amused.
    “Who hasn’t heard? Your family owns the biggest ranch in Wyoming. You’re cattle and oil barons.”
    “Yeah. That’s us.” He gave a dry laugh. “The barons of Wyoming.”
    She shared a laugh with him before focusing on his mouth with a sultry look that could burn a man’s heart like a laser. “Kiss me, Quinn.”
    “That wouldn’t be wise in your condition.”
    “My condition is perfect, thanks to you. All right.” She drew his head down slowly. “If you won’t kiss me,