Excerpt of The Rancher Takes A Bride by Sylvia McDaniel

"Where's my mother's ring?"

Travis shook Rose hard, then quickly released her, her soft skin leaving his hands warm, the smell of her causing his blood to flow like hot lava.

She took a deep breath before saying, "I don't have your mother's ring. I didn't steal anything."

He looked around the room and spotted her reticule lying on the bed. Quickly he grabbed her bag and stared rifling through it.

"You're welcome to search through my belongings, but you're not going to find the ring. I suggest you start with my trunk," Rose said.

Blood heated Travis's already flushed skin. God, she was beautiful, standing there proudly in her chemise and stockings defending herself, even though he knew it was a lie. Her glossy brown hair hung loose and curling wildly down her back, urging him to run his fingers through her locks. Her skin was flushed with anger, her green eyes flashed with annoyance, and like a Gypsy queen she wove a spell around him.

If only she wasn't a cheat and a liar.

He paused and let his eyes roam over her body long enough to get her attention. She tilted her nose in the air disdainfully, yet her cheeks had a rosy tint to them that belied her proud defiance. God, he wanted her.

"To hell with the trunk. What if I start with you?"

Travis watched her swallow and noticed a spark of unease in her eyes. He took a couple of steps toward her. She retreated until her back was against the wall.

He placed his hands on either side of her touching the wall, trapping her. "I could run my hands inside your clothing and let my fingers..."

"Stop!" Nervously Rose licked her lips, then placed her hands on his chest and pushed away from the wall, propelling him back. She stared into his eyes. "I can talk to you till we're both older than dirt, and you aren't going to believe a word I say. So I'm saying it for the last time. I didn't steal your mother's ring."

Travis wrapped his arms around her, his gaze drawn to her luscious mouth. He watched as Rose ran her tongue across her bottom lip, and the urge to follow its path overcame him. What did she taste like? Was she honey and sweetness or something more exotic?

"Like I was saying," he drawled. "I think I'll start with your lips."