Saxon's Lady Read Online Free Page A

that had changed. None of them mattered. Underneath she was still the gallant, vibrant woman who'd captivated him from the first moment they'd met. He sensed she would always have the power to make his body tighten with desire even as she aroused his protective instincts.
    Objectively speaking, he knew she wasn't beautiful. There was an open, honest attractiveness about her that lacked the aloof mystery of classic beauty. He remembered her in faded jeans that fit lovingly over her sweetly curving hips. And he remembered the shape of those soft thighs under his hands. She had felt so good, so soft and sexy and she'd given herself so completely that night.
    For a year Garth had been living with the white-hot memories of the night he'd lost his self-control and taken Devon to bed. The brilliance of her golden eyes as she'd looked up at him from beneath her lashes had tormented him for twelve long months. The vivid recollection of the tight, throbbing feel of her clinging body had caused him to spend more than one night since then lying awake in an agony of frustration. At four in the morning he would sometimes imagine he could hear the soft cries she'd made when she'd shivered and convulsed in his arms. In the cold hours before dawn he frequently found himself conjuring up the memory of how it had felt to twist his hands deep into her long tawny hair. That kind of imagination had nearly driven him out of his mind at times.
    Turning Hawk's Flight into a first-class stud farm had been a sixteen-hour-a-day job since he'd bought the place two and a half years ago. He probably could have relaxed a little this past year as his plans for the ranch began to take concrete shape. But he'd kept up the hard pace because he'd needed to work off the frustration of waiting for Devon. Now, at last, the waiting was over.
    "I liked your hair the old way," he stated suddenly as the light changed.
    Devon glanced at him and then back at the traffic in front of the truck. "Do you? I like it this way. More modern."
    "Probably more expensive, too," he remarked idly.
    Her mouth curved in a secret little smile. "You're right. I have to have it trimmed every six weeks and my stylist costs a fortune."
    "I doubt if Willy Mae is going to be able to keep it looking that way for you," Garth persisted. Willy Mae had been Hawk Springs's only hairdresser for the past fifteen years.
    "You could be right," Devon said noncommittally. "Willy Mae peaked professionally just before she came to Hawk Springs. She hasn't done anything since to keep up with the latest styles. Everyone who comes out of her shop is at least fifteen years out of date. Take a left here."
    "I remember," Garth said gently. He had only visited Devon once in her San Francisco apartment. That had been at Christmas when Lee and Kurt had told him they were going to be spending the holiday with their sister in the city. It hadn't taken much to get himself invited along. Devon had put up a tree, cooked a traditional meal and wrapped presents for everyone. It had been a cheerful, festive occasion. Afterward the three men had spent the night in sleeping bags in her small living room. The next day all three had left. Garth hadn't been able to think of an excuse to stay, and Devon hadn't asked him to remain behind after her brothers left. There had still been four months to go in her year of freedom and Garth had been bound by his end of the bargain.
    Now, fifteen minutes after leaving the heart of the city, Garth finally found a space for the pickup in front of Devon's Victorian-style flat. It was typical of the apartments that lined the neighborhood streets. He opened the door of the truck and went around to Devon's side of the vehicle. She already had her door open by the time he got there. Devon had grown up in farming country where women didn't expect men to open pickup truck doors for them. Garth wondered if she'd been dating anyone who did open car doors. With her new tastes, they would have been