She glanced up and stared into eyes as clear and amber as priceless Scotch. “I guess not.” She pulled her hand away and though her heart was breaking, managed a sad smile. “Goodbye, Mason,” she said, hating the finality of the words.

“It was good, but now it’s over?” he asked, taunting her.

“It was good, but it never really began.” She swung into the saddle and didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Because if she saw him again, all hard sinew, muscle and bone, his face chiseled and strong, she’d never be able to look away again. She loved him, that much was certain, and it was a cross she would bear for the rest of her life.

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

“You had to do it, didn’t you?” Mason glared at his reflection in the steamy mirror, scraped away a swath of shaving cream and whiskers and mentally kicked himself for having made love to Bliss.

Though he’d had no conscious plan to seduce her, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from spending more time with her, from seeing her, from suggesting the evening horseback ride to the ridge. Pursing his lips, he tried to avoid cutting himself as he finished shaving, then washed his face. He was standing naked in front of the mirror and had the fleeting thought that if Bliss were in the room, he probably should wear a towel wrapped around his waist, or his boxer shorts.

He stiffened just at the thought of her and ground out several oaths. What was he thinking? Why the devil would Bliss ever be in his bathroom in the morning? Just because they’d made love didn’t mean that they ever would again, that they were having an affair, for the love of Pete, or that they might consider tying the knot.

As he threw on his clothes, his mind was running in wild, perilous circles. Just as it had all night. Throughout the long, dark hours, he’d been haunted by the image of Bliss’s perfect face, the fragrance of her skin, the sound of her laughter. There had also been worries about Dee Dee and thoughts of another sort—memories of the years he’d struggled to prove to himself and the rest of the world that he was as good as anyone else, that the poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks could make good.