He grinned even as a fat trickle of sweat ran between his shoulder blades. “You’re right.” He followed her closely, reaching past her to take the dipper that hung from the side of the barrel. “Allow me.”

“I don’t need assistance getting a drink of water. I am perfectly capable of getting it myself.”

“I know.” He plunged the dipper into the water, then lifted it clear. Water dripped from the shiny metal and pooled into the barrel below. Chase was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. It was hot, sticky, dry work. Work he wasn’t accustomed to doing. The whole world seemed covered in a haze of dust that made the water seem all the more pure. All the tastier. He began to lift the dipper to his own mouth when he caught sight of Harriet’s face.

Dust smeared a dark path from her temple to her chin. Her skin was flushed and ripe. As he looked at her, she ran the edge of her tongue along her lower lip as if in anticipation of the cold drink. Chase reached over with his free hand and pushed her hat from her hair.

She blinked. “Wh—”

He lifted the ladle and poured the water on her head. It cascaded down her face, drenching her shoulders, cooling her heated skin.

She gasped, sputtering. “You—Why—”

“You were hot.” He dipped out more water and poured it over his own head. The water bathed him in an instant, cooling and cleansing.

He opened his eyes to find Harriet looking at him, amusement warming her brown eyes.

“You are impossible.”

He grinned in return. “I just wanted to help.” He refilled the ladle and then handed it to her. “Drink.”

Her gaze met his for the briefest of moments, the deep brown still sparkling with laughter. To his surprise, she didn’t say a word, but reached up and cupped the cool metal in both hands and took a deep, cold drink.

Chase watched, all amusement leaving him as her soft lips closed over the curved metal bowl of the ladle. She drank deeply, unabashedly gulping the water, a thin trickle escaping her lips and running down her chin.

Chase found his hands had curled into fists. Not out of anger, but out of need. He wanted this woman, wanted her so badly that his entire body ached with the effort to hide it.

She dropped the ladle from her mouth, her eyes still closed as if in ecstasy. Chase could not breathe. He could not swallow. He could not do anything but stand numbly beside her as she sighed happily, her pink tongue tracing the last bit of moisture from her plump bottom lip.

Suddenly, Chase knew that he was standing too close to her. Too near to stop himself. Before he realized what he was doing, his hands had come un-fisted and he was holding her—pulling her to him.

She melted against him, warm and willing, her mouth curved in a welcoming smile.