She shrugged carelessly and lifted her chin. "I read as much as I needed to and skimmed the rest of it. The ranch is in my name; it belonged to my mother. Did the Chevez family know that? It has been in my mother's family for a hundred years. I am not going to hand it over to them. Armando recovered all the acres lost over the years and managed to turn a run-down property into a thriving business. It is his legacy to his children and I intend to hold it for them. I loved him. He deserved better than he got."

Rafael nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. "So did you, querida. The Chevez family wanted you to accompany Ginny and Paul. They are relatives, Colby, and they are not responsible for the terrible tragedy their avo precipitated upon the familia. They are doing their best to make amends." There was the gentlest of reproofs in his voice. "They do not need this ranch, as they are wealthy in their own right. Each of them has property and they manage our lands as well."

Colby swept a hand through her hair. "I'm tired and it's been a rotten day. I will admit you've helped me enormously and you took my mind off Pete's death, but I really think you should go, Rafael." She had reached a point where she was aware of nothing else in the room but his well-muscled masculine body. Her blood seemed to surge and pound with heat and fire. Her entire body was restless and unfamiliar. She didn't want to know this side of him. Not the kind and gentle side. It was so much easier to resist him if he had a heart of ice.

He had come to her in her dark hour while she was alone and tired and vulnerable. He had offered his help with his melodic voice. His voice alone could soothe the heaviest heart. She didn't want to like him or the Chevez family. That would mean she would have to be fair and reasonable.

Rafael could sense the weariness in her. Her body was sore and tired, muscles aching. She had been up so early, searching for her lost friend, and the day had dragged on endlessly. She was hanging on by her fingertips, wanting to crumple somewhere safe where no one could see her. He stood up slowly and carefully replaced each piece of tack back in its original place on the wall.

When he turned his head to look at her, Colby stopped breathing. His eyes were black and hungry. Alive with raw need. She stared at him rather helplessly, frozen to the spot like a hypnotized rabbit. Unable to move. She had never seen eyes so alive, so hot and hungry with an intensity that frightened even as it drew her like a magnet. How had she ever thought him cold? Rafael reached out slowly, shackled her wrist, and drew her slowly, relentlessly to his side.

At once it was there, the electricity, sparking and crackling, sizzling hot. She barely came up to his chest and had to tilt her head as close as she was to him. He merely bent down, his black gaze never leaving her small, pale face as he came closer and closer. She could see his long thick eyelashes, his seductive mouth. Her heart began to pound a rather frantic rhythm, matched the exact same beat as his. His hand slid up her back in a long slow caress. She watched his mouth coming closer to hers.

"I can't do this," she whispered softly aloud, even as she moved closer to his beckoning heat. He was fire; she was ice, like the looming mountains surrounding them. Two halves of the same whole. "I can't do this," she repeated more for herself than for him. A last attempt at self-preservation. Her body was melting against his, boneless and pliant like so much hot silk when she needed to remain aloof, the ice princess, as some of the cowboys labeled her.

I need to do this. The words shimmered in her mind, shimmered between them, in his heart and soul, in hers. He needed it more than the air they were breathing, more than the blood that gave him life. You need to do this. Rafael's palm curled around the nape of her neck. His fingers were warm and strong and firm, dragging her inexorably, relentlessly closer to him. He brought her across the last scant inches separating them. I need this. Stark, raw truth. She didn't trust him, the rake, the playboy. Worse, she saw him as the man trying to seduce her to get her brother and sister and the ranch. It hurt, the image she had of him uppermost in her mind, it hurt more than he cared to admit, yet at that moment it didn't matter to either one of them.

There was a difference between wanting something and desperately needing it. Rafael needed the feel of her silken mouth and her soft, pliant body. He fastened his mouth to hers, a melding of hot velvet and even hotter silk. Whatever it was that was between them seemed far stronger than either of them. A molten heat thickened their blood and set their hearts pounding frantically. The earth seemed to shift beneath their feet and he gathered her even closer, protectively, possessively against him.

She felt small and fragile to him, yet a living, breathing flame. His every good intention seemed to go right up in a fire raging so hot it seemed to sweep aside his very sanity. His mouth moved over hers, dominating, exploring, whisking them both into a world of raw sexuality. He fed on her sweetness, wanted to devour her, taking her into his own body and locking her in his soul for all time. She had a passionate nature and she gave herself up to the sheer erotic pleasure.

His hands moved over her body possessively, needing to take in every inch of her skin. He swept aside the neckline of her shirt so that his mouth could blaze a trail of fire along her neck, lingering for a moment to swirl his tongue over the temptation of her pulse. His hand moved up her narrow rib cage beneath the thin material to cup her lace-covered breast even while his mouth found the ripe offering.

His mouth was hot and moist right through the lace, his tongue coaxing her nipple to a hard peak, the lace scraping erotically along with his teeth, teasing, driving her wild so that her body was pulsating with a terrible need. She circled his head with her arms, tears close, as the waves of sensation rippled through her. Stark pleasure, hot need, a drenching liquid response she couldn't prevent. It was shocking to Colby and totally unexpected. And unacceptable. She made a sound like a frightened animal, shocked that in his arms she was no longer a thinking person. He could so easily sweep aside her beliefs. She didn't even know if she liked him.

"Rafael." Her voice ached with need. Came out breathless and sexy, not at all as she intended. "Stop." She managed to get the word out. One word. Her body didn't want him to stop, she wanted him to go on and on forever, to set aside the warnings of her brain and just take her up into the flames. She had never experienced such total pleasure, had no idea anything or anyone could make her feel like he did.

"You do not want me to stop." He whispered it, a sinful temptation against her breasts, the warmth of his mouth enticing her.

God help her she didn't want him to stop, not ever. Colby summoned her strength and pushed at him. "I need you to stop. I can't do this." She caught her shirt, pulling it down to cover her full aching breasts. Tears glittered, turning her eyes to a deep emerald. "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I've never done this. You have to go." She could never face him again. Never.

"Colby." He said her name very softly. His voice seemed to start a fire in the pit of her stomach, the flames spreading rapidly. It terrified her. Totally terrified her.

Colby stepped back away from him and turned and ran as if Rafael was the devil himself. She raced across the yard to the safety of her porch.

He listened to her speaking to her brother and sister. Rafael stood in the shadows and watched as they went inside.

He stood alone in the darkness. Alone. As he had always been alone. Inside that house was color and life, emotions, passion. Inside that house was life. His world. He stood in the dark where demons belonged, uncertain if he could control the darkness gathering inside him, spreading rapidly. She was hurting inside, a raw aching wound, unsure of herself. And he knew he couldn't leave her that way.


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