"Kristenson, Agatha - The Rancher's Wife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kristenson Agatha)

Cole dropped a kiss on her neck and tightened his arms around her slim
waist. "I can go back where I came from, you know. Those chicks in
Paris thought I was pretty hot stuff," he teased.

"It's just that I wanted to be all dressed up and pretty for you ...
and you have to go and spoil it all ... barge in and find me looking
like a hag ... and ... oh, hell ..." She was sniffling now, not only at
how she looked but the apprehension over hiring Eric and Angel and how
Cole might take that. She'd never interfered with the operation of the
ranch before.

"Go on. Go on outside and let me get cleaned up at least.

"Okay, baby. I'm going to get a drink and you grab a shower while I
get rid of the delegation ... and then ..."

"Ah ... don't go ... oh, Cole ... I'm so glad you're home!"

For answer he twisted her face around and kissed her soundly, then
whacked her bottom affectionately with a resounding slap of his hand.
"Hurry up."

When he'd gone, Kate just stood for a moment at the sink. He looked
fit and wonderful but different ... younger, more attractive, like a
swinger. She wondered about that. What had happened while he was in
Paris? Had he really been just teasing about the chicks? Was it all
just a haircut and a new suit or had something else happened?

Shaking herself from her speculation, Kate dried her hands hurriedly
and left the pots to soak. She raced up the stairs to their bedroom,
flinging off shorts and jersey as she went. Frantically she jerked off
bra and panties too on her way across the beige carpet to the bathroom.
She felt sticky and sweaty all over. Even her skin glowed a little
from the sheen of perspiration as she stood before the mirror in the
bathroom untying her ponytail. Damn. Even her hair would have to be
washed.

Quickly she showered and shampooed. Standing on the carpet dripping
now, she dried her naked body quickly. One good thing about not having
had any children, her figure was still remarkable. Slim and supple,
her legs were still firm and shapely and long, her hips taut and
curved, waist narrow and lithe and her breasts as tanned as the rest of
her, thanks to the sunning spot down by the lake that was hidden by the
brush from everyone but low flying planes and they didn't get many of
those in South Dakota.

She wrapped her dripping long chestnut hair in a thick towel and
twisted it into a turban. Then she smoothed her whole body with lotion
and touched perfume behind her ears, between her breasts, and into the