The Rancher's Second Chance by Victoria James Page B

full breasts pressing against his chest, her sweet scent, made him never want to put her down. But the bed was only ten feet away and he cursed himself for making such a small cabin. He sat her gently on the bed and straightened himself up.
    “Thank you,” she said, shooting him a smile and inching back into the bed.
    He needed to force himself to move, to take his eyes off her. Her long hair was tousled around her shoulders, her full lips red and moist, and her silky legs were stretched out. His hand flexed involuntarily, remembering the exact feel of her skin under his. Cole cleared his throat and forced himself to back up a step. “You’re welcome. I’ll just go and check that we’ve got enough wood to last the night.”
    Cole poked at the fire. Melanie was fluffing her pillow and things were quiet for the first time tonight. And he was pretty damn sure he preferred the conversation to the silence. As much as he hated to admit it, talking to her was the best time he’d had in a long, long while. He didn’t want Melanie to go to bed yet. He didn’t want the night to end. He glanced over at her as she was climbing under the quilt.
    “Are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch?” she asked, yawning.
    “I’ll make sure the fire keeps going through the night. Easier from the couch.” Actually, he wanted to crawl into bed right beside her. And not sleep.
    He had never opened up to anyone like he just had. He told himself it was the whiskey, but he knew it was more. Mel and Sarah couldn’t have been more different. Sarah had been simple and sweet, and Mel was turning out to be complicated…but there was sweetness there. Sweetness and sexiness.
    He found himself torn between loving her conversation, the ideas, the thoughts that came out of her mouth, and just loving her mouth. The curve of her lips. The fullness of them. Then he’d admire her skin, the smoothness, the flawlessness. Then he’d remember the lingerie in her hands. The lace. Then the way she looked last night in the hallway. He still had every curve memorized. And tonight, when she’d come out of the washroom with his shirt on, it had taken every ounce of self-discipline not to stare at her. She had essentially made a paper bag look like a million bucks.
    He ran his hands through his hair roughly. He needed to stop this line of thinking. Melanie would be leaving the ranch tomorrow. They’d both get on with work. He’d find out how his sister was doing and when she was coming home. Pretty soon the wedding would arrive and he and Mel would go their separate ways. He should be spending his time thinking about the business deal. Monday morning, he’d be meeting with the man who could potentially make one of Sarah’s dreams come true. So why did the thought of not seeing Melanie until the wedding make him feel lonely?
    He glanced over at Melanie; she’d passed out without even getting under the blanket. He couldn’t help but smile. And despite the fact that he’d classify her as never being his type, there was something about her, something infuriating…and endearing. And now he didn’t want the night to end, he didn’t want to sleep alone. For the first time since Sarah died, he wanted to sleep with a woman. No, not a woman. Melanie . He wanted to feel her warmth, hear her steady breath, wanted to feel her in his arms.
    The quilt had been tossed aside, like she hadn’t quite gotten it over her before she fell asleep. He slowly walked over to the bed and tucked it around her. She stirred slightly, turning toward him. Her green eyes opened, immediately seeking his out, and his gut was in his throat at the emotion he read in them. She smiled softly, and either it was the whiskey, or exhaustion, but all her walls were down. He swore he saw who she was at that moment, and every preconceived notion he’d had about her was obliterated as he stared into her eyes. Now all he saw was a woman that intrigued him, beckoned him on a level he’d