A Cowboy Seduction

A COWBOY SEDUCTION

…Her hands grasped the edge of the tub and her head drooped, exposing her neck. “So soothing.” He let his fingers trail behind the sponge as he ran it down her spine. The tips of his fingers felt electrified, like when he touched the goat fence before Ramon switched it off. Her body stiffened and then her shoulders shimmied, as if asking for more. “Lacy, do you feel that tingle? Like when we danced?” “Hmmm. Probably static.” “Static doesn’t happen in water.” He ran his fingers lightly along the ridge of her collarbone and watched her skin ripple with gooseflesh. No denying that reaction. “This is between us.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nape, swirling his tongue over the bone. A bit soapy, but worth the taste of warm skin. “Are you relaxing?” “Uh-huh.” “That’s good.” His fingers ran along her ribs to her slender waist, silky skin sliding beneath his fingers. Going slow was killing him. What he wanted was to reach his hands around and cup both breasts. Let the weight fill his hands, burning their shape into his memory. But he hesitated. “What about your arms? Were they tense?” Moving along the side of the tub, he lifted her arm and ran the soapy sponge along the top and then back along the underside.

She sucked in a breath and, with the inhalation, her breasts rose two inches above the bubbles. The revealed skin was enticing, slippery and pale. Heat pooled in his groin and he flexed his hips so his erection pressed against the cold porcelain tub. Pleasurable pain wrapped around his cock and he gritted his teeth. If he wasn’t careful, he’d jump way ahead of her pace…

ALSO BY LAYLA C HASE Love For Hire Risqué Behavior Stagecoach Capture Twin Delights Uniform Desire Wager Of Seduction

A COWBOY SEDUCTION BY LAYLA CHASE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

A COWBOY SEDUCTION AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by Layla Chase ISBN 978-1-60272-190-6 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Thanks to my friends in the San Antonio Romance Authors who helped brainstorm the music behind this story.

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CHAPTER 1 Rough-hewn tables with mismatched chairs. Pool tables marred with a stain or two from doubling as banquet tables when the rodeo came to town. A jukebox with music selections that belonged to another generation. Hank’s Cantina. The hot spot on a Saturday night in Soledad, Texas. “Happy birthday, old man.” “Thanks, Zeke.” Clint Merrick forced his lips into a tight smile. If one more person clapped him on the back and called him “old man,” he would lose it. He didn’t need anyone reminding him his thirtieth birthday was one of those landmark days. For several months, he’d eyed this date with 1

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dread. Lifting the bottle to his mouth, he tilted back the cool longneck and drank several swallows. Thirty and single. That was bad. Thirty and alone. Definitely worse. The crack of a cue ball breaking the triangle formation of balls resounded, followed by a shrill shout. “Atta girl, Lacy. Go for solids.” Just the sound of her name made his damn heart thump harder. Clint shifted his elbows on the bar for a clear line of sight on the pool table. Damn, Lacy was wearing his favorite skirt—the one that hugged her ass and showed off just enough of her toned thighs. His gaze followed her movements as she walked around the table while chalking the cue stick. Speculation rose about that motion being applied to a particular part of his anatomy, and heat stirred in his groin. His gaze ran over her taut legs and thighs. Her fondness for five-kilometer races kept her in dynamite shape. As he’d observed on several occasions since discovering her practice route and altering where he exercised his horses. When she bent over to sight the best angle, he shot off the stool, primed to charge across the barroom. Holy shit, the woman’s tits were on display for all of north Texas. A hand gripped his forearm and held tight. “I’d let you loose, except for one fact.” Clint turned a dark glare on his older brother, for all the good they’d ever done. “Suppose you’re dying to tell me.” “Yep. You’re chicken-shit.” As epithets went, this was one of the milder he’d heard 2

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Cooper utter over the years. Hell of a lot better than useless. Clint cut his gaze to the hand wrinkling his favorite denim shirt and back up to Cooper’s green eyes. “Ever heard of cutting a guy some slack on his birthday?” “He’s a goner, right, Pete?” Cooper shook his head. “Yep, best as I can tell from over here.” A laughing voice sounded from Clint’s other side. The third member of his birthday bash, his best friend since fifth grade, Pete Gibson. “Some loyal friend you are, Pete. Don’t encourage him. I’ve heard enough of his ribbing.” Cooper shook his head and tried twice to lean an elbow on the bar. “No ribbing here. Telling the plain and obvious truth.” “You’re drunk.” “Only had a couple of beers, bro.” He clucked his tongue in a fair imitation of a chicken. “The sad thing is, you think your feelings are hidden.” Hoping for a bit of solidarity and maybe a new topic of conversation, Clint turned back toward Pete. “Do you have a clue what he’s talking about?” With a grin peeking out from under a droopy moustache, Pete shook his head and held out a fresh bottle. “Maybe the time has come to listen.” Clint guzzled down half the frosty amber liquid before turning back to hear whatever Cooper had on his mind. Sometimes letting him have his say was the easiest way out. “Okay, bro. I’m listening. Talk.” Arms crossed over his chest, Cooper leaned his hips against the scarred wooden bar. “I’m talking about Lacy, 3

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dumb ass.” The repeat of her name tightened his chest. As if being reeled in, Clint chanced another look at the far corner, and his hand fisted at his side. Not that he didn’t appreciate a glimpse of what he’d never touch, but he hated every guy in the place got the same golden opportunity. “Will you look at that blouse? She’s flashing the whole damn bar.” Cooper chuckled and rested an elbow on Clint’s shoulder. “Really? And you’re worried about her clothes?” Damn. Clint cringed. This buddy-buddy gesture always preceded a real zinger. He cleared his throat and tried to sound noble. “On her behalf…as a friend, of course.” “So, you’re not friends with Bitsy or Tess?” He shrugged out from under Cooper’s elbow. “Now I know you’re drunk. You’ve known them as long as I have— ever since grade school.” Pete let out a loud whoosh of air. “Bitsy was my Valentine in third grade.” At his friend’s tone, warning bells went off in Clint’s head. He glanced for the bartender, but Hank was at the other end of the bar. Had to tell him to cut off Pete for the night. “Hey, look for yourself.” Clint tore his gaze from Lacy Durant, the woman he’d been in love with since high school, and glanced at her friends. All three women were dressed similarly, their tops exposing the same amount of skin. Caught. “Okay, so none of them should be playing pool dressed like that.” With a shrug, he turned to Cooper and faked a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “If 4

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they don’t care, then why should I?” “My point exactly.” He leaned close with a squinted gaze. “If you care so much about Lacy, why aren’t you doing anything about it?” Through gritted teeth, Clint muttered, “She’s dating a damn lawyer from Amarillo, that’s why.” Well, he’d just tipped them off how he kept track of her love life. “Exactly.” Cooper tipped up his bottle. “You two have had the rottenest timing. From high school to the army to college—one of you was exiting the city limits in one direction when the other was arriving from another.” “Yeah, tell me about it.” Nice of big brother to bring up the sad state of his romantic life. Or lack of one. Like when they were kids and Cooper would keep punching Clint’s bruises. “I say you ask her to dance.” “Here, here.” Pete rapped his beer bottle against the bar before upending it to guzzle. “Everyone deserves a birthday dance.” Sounded good. His arms around Lacy, bodies close. “You’ve got a point there.” “I can think of better birthday treats”—Pete gouged a bony elbow into Clint’s side—“if you know what I mean. But a dance is the minimum.” Over Pete’s head, Clint spied Hank and cut his hand across his throat, then pointed at Pete. The bartender tossed a white towel onto the bar, working his way closer, and nodded. 5

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One issue dealt with. Clint glanced at the challenging look in his brother’s eyes. “A dance seems safe enough.” “Depends on the dance.” His eyebrows waggled, then his gaze narrowed. “Go for it. Damn right. Clint’s thoughts roiled. Maybe this was just what he needed to make Lacy think of him as other than a pal. “First, loosen up.” A long finger jabbed toward his shirt collar. “At least two buttons.” What the hell was Cooper up to? With hesitation, Clint complied. “Undo another. Ladies love seeing a guy’s chest.” Cooper looked over his shoulder. “Pete, you wear that battered straw hat tonight? The one like Toby Keith wears.” Pete crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my summer hat. Got it somewhere in the back of my truck cab.” “Cooper.” Irritation flashed through his thoughts, but Clint tried for an even tone. “I’m not wearing Pete’s grungy old hat. It’s a damn dance, not a fashion show.” He turned on his heel and started across the floor, unbuttoning his cuffs and turning back his long sleeves. Breathing room was the goal. Tonight, he intended to heat up the floor. *

*

*

“Come on, Lacy. Will you take the shot already?” Lacy jerked her gaze back to the pool table and to the angle of the nine ball halfway across the felted surface. Why should she be distracted by three lanky cowboys leaning on the bar? 6

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Maybe because of the glances they kept shooting to this end of Hank’s Cantina. Or maybe because, for once, Clint seemed to be the center of attention…a position normally occupied by Cooper. Why did she even care? She shook her head and focused on the game. Thwack. Her shot went wide and, instead, the cue ball dropped into the end pocket. “Oh, crap.” She stomped to the end and grabbed out the white ball and the solid purple. “Bitsy, your turn.” “Um, Lacy.” “What are you whispering for?” She glanced at her friend, whose hazel eyes had gone fright wide. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing…look.” Bitsy squeaked and jabbed her crooked finger over Lacy’s shoulder. What was wrong with Bitsy? “Don’t try to distract me.” Irritation fueled her turn and she twirled, her skirt flaring as she circled. Before she could stop the action, her jaw dropped and her heart went into overdrive. Not five feet away stood a man who resembled her friend, Clint Merrick, but wasn’t. The clothes were similar to his style—well, almost. But the man who wore them seemed bigger, broader…badder. Was that even a real word? “’Evening, Lacy.” He lifted a finger to his forehead and dipped his chin, but his gaze remained steady. Plus she’d never seen him with such an intense expression before. Clint was the definition of easygoing. She set the cushiony end of the cue stick on the floor and leaned. “Hey, Clint.” 7

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A smile flashed across his lips, then disappeared before he extended a hand, palm up. “Honor me?” The old-fashioned invitation curled her toes. Then she stilled. What the hell was that reaction for? This was her best pal, Clint. Tess stepped up to her side. “My game. I’ll take this.” She tugged on the stick and leaned close. “Let go, Lacy.” “Oh, sure.” She released her grip and ignored the sharp jab in the rear Tess gave her as she retreated. Turning back to Clint’s dark-eyed stare, she couldn’t keep a frown from forming. “But there’s no music.” In two strides, he closed the distance and caught her hand, raising it to his lips. “There will be.” Her skin tingled where his lips pressed. But his presence overpowered her senses, and she backed up until her butt hit the edge of the table. This was too weird. “Are you drunk?” He shook his head, but his gaze never wavered. “I’ve have two beers. My head is as clear as the air after a rainfall.” Interesting description. Using his grip as leverage, she leaned to the side and looked around his body toward the bar. “Is this a bet?” His fingers tightened and then his thumb smoothed over the back of her hand. “Sorry. No bet.” The light caress gave her the shivers. “Lacy, the question is simple. Dance or not?” He widened his stance and held his left arm loose at his size. God, the change in his behavior was amazing. Now he looked like an old-time gunfighter. Add a Stetson, vest and 8

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chaps, and she’d bet money he’d win in a showdown at high noon. The first few bars of George Strait’s “A Fire I Can’t Put Out” cut the air. Her gaze locked with his. He couldn’t possibly have remembered that from their high school dance. The Sadie Hawkins Dance her sophomore year—their one and only date. “Say yes…in honor of my birthday?” Birthday? Damn, she’d heard him mention it last week, but she’d forgotten to buy a card. “Sure.” She pushed off from the pool table. In a flash, he lifted her hand, twirled her and pulled her tight against him. He linked his hands behind her back and shifted her so her legs straddled his, then pulled her closer. She reached her hands up his chest, trailing them along the front of his soft shirt, and clasped his shoulders. A position that gave her a straight-on view of his tanned, muscled chest and dark curling hairs running downward— Whoa. What was she thinking? She had a boyfriend. He lived in Amarillo…and his name was…Lance. Lance Westley! She jerked up her gaze, catching sight of a strong jaw shadowed with stubble. And this was just Clint. She shouldn’t have those kind of thoughts about her friend. Should she? A quivering settled in her stomach, reminding her of how she’d felt the last time they’d danced. Had ten years really gone by since then? His hands cupped her lower back, signaling with subtle moves of pressure and release the direction she should move. 9

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Each step rubbed his jeans leg against her bare thigh, or his hip bone brushed her belly, keeping her aware of their intimate stance. Where and when had he learned anything other than the two-step or the boot-scootin’ shuffle? No matter. She relaxed, letting her body listen to his, and circulated on the floor as his fingers instructed. Unwavering dark eyes stared into hers. His hands touched her everywhere. At her middle back, grasping a hand for a spin, tucking her hand behind her waist. Into a position that arched her backward and brought her breasts into contact with his chest. His hands bracketed her ribs and he walked her backward, then he spun her out and snapped her back, laying her over his arm in a low dip. The music stopped, the last guitar twang hanging in the air. Definitely not the two-step. Heart pounding double time, all she could do was stare into his chocolate-brown gaze, and remind herself to breathe. Patsy’s Cline’s throaty “Crazy” echoed through the room. Clint straightened and shot a dark look over his shoulder, then eased her upright to a standing position. He squeezed her hand, a thumb rubbing over her knuckles. “Again?” This time he didn’t wait for an answer. He simply enfolded her into a tight embrace, a hand cradling hers next to his chest, and leaned his chin atop her head. Their bodies fit just right, almost like they had ten years earlier. Except Clint hadn’t been as fully muscled then. A fact she was so not supposed to be noticing. Her body flushed with 10

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heat and her mind raced for a distraction, an innocuous topic. “So this birthday must be the big three-zero.” “Yep.” A hand caressed down her spine in lazy circles. Maybe if they could just talk she’d get rid of this weird shaky feeling in her stomach. After all, this was Clint. The guy who listened to her troubles every Monday, Wednesday and Friday during his lunch visits to her café. “Have you got anything special planned?” Steering them through a couple of turns, he moved his cheek to nuzzle her crown and hummed out an acknowledgement. “Doing it right now.” Her throat tightened. Such a sweet thing to say, but she should be the one making it up to him because she forgot his birthday. Something he never did. On her birthday, a small token always arrived in the mail or was left at his favorite seat at the restaurant. “No, I mean like a special trip you might take—” He pulled back enough to gaze into her eyes, aping an astonished look. “Go outside of Texas? I didn’t know there was anything worth seeing.” Why did holding his gaze suddenly make her heart flutter like this? Hadn’t happened last week. Of course, last week the imprint of his lean body hadn’t pressed tight, warming her skin and inflaming her thoughts. His hand rose to run his knuckles ran along her neck. “I’ve got horses, wide open spaces, a snug house, my health.” A finger traced her jaw line, and then lifted her chin until their gazes locked. “And my friends.” His thumb grazed her bottom 11

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lip, dragging at it a bit. “What more could a man ask for?” The heat from his body surrounded her, as did his scent—a heady mixture of musky spice and warmed cotton. The picture he painted was of a man who had just about everything and was content. At the warm look in his eyes, she sighed. “Sounds good.” “You don’t think something is missing?” She bit her lip to keep from blurting out an impulsive answer. Uh-oh. The moment was getting too heavy, too personal, and she squirmed against his hold, but his embrace was firm. “A pet! That’s what’s missing. How about a dog?” He chuckled and cupped his hand along her jaw. “Not what I was thinking.” His mouth descended until his breath mingled with hers, his dark eyes studying her face. “Guess again.” His allure was too powerful. Pent-up air whooshed out and she clutched at the back of his shirt. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she puckered her pink lips, straining upward. Dimly and at the edge of her awareness, she heard applause. Clapping because people could see them. Oh, damn! She froze and shoved at his chest. He immediately released her and whispered, “Thanks for the present, Lacy.” Executing a slow spin, he sauntered back to the bar, grabbed his jacket and walked to the exit. Pete and Cooper followed, serenading him with a chorus of “Happy Birthday.” God, what had just happened? She’s almost kissed Clint Merrick! Right in the middle of Hank’s Cantina. Was she in the freaking Twilight Zone? 12

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CHAPTER 2 Tilled fields lying under a white dusting of frost passed by in a blur as Clint drove from the ranch. Almost a week had past since his ill-fated birthday dance. Appointments out of town had taken him in the wrong direction from Soledad, and he’d missed two of his regular noon-time appearances at Lacy’s Café. Why had he let Cooper talk him into approaching her? He couldn’t deny the satisfaction he’d gotten from simply holding her again. More than satisfaction…enjoyment. An enjoyment he’d contemplated multiple times over the past several days. But the actions that had put her on display for the rest of the bar ate at him. That choice had been neither thoughtful nor 13

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fair. What he couldn’t get out of his mind was the image of her puckered lips stretching to reach his. She’d thought he intended to kiss her, and she’d been willing. Maybe even eager. Only because he wouldn’t poach on what wasn’t available had he held himself back. He’d been on the receiving end of that experience and refused to repeat what had been done to him. The buildings came into view and he slowed the truck. An automatic glance at the thermometer on the Merchant’s Bank confirmed what he’d guessed earlier—the temperature hovered in the low forties. This cold spell was hanging tough. He hoped the reception he got from Lacy wasn’t as chilly. Maybe the balloon and flowers he’d had delivered had paved the way for the personal apology he intended to deliver. Mostly, he wanted their relationship back to where it was prior to the previous Saturday night. Spying an empty space in front of Jake’s Saddle Shop, he parked the truck. A glance in the rearview mirror had him smoothing back a couple of unruly spots in his wavy hair. Maybe he should get a haircut. Quit stalling and get to the apology. With resolve, he reached behind the seat for his jacket. Rapping sounded on the passenger window. He glanced up and spotted Joleen McRoberts, who wiggled her fingers and then pointed into the cab. Great, what did his old girlfriend want? He stretched across the bench seat to open the door. “Hey, Joleen. Come in out of the cold.” 14

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“Why, thank you, Clint.” She slid inside and slammed the door. “Cold out there today.” The crispness of winter mixed with her cloying perfume filled the cab. Now what? Clint glanced down the sidewalk at the neon sign for Lacy’s Café and fought to keep impatience from his voice. “How you been?” Her hand latched onto his forearm and squeezed, and she edged closer on the seat. “Did you mean what you wrote? Daisies aren’t my favorite, but flowers from a man are always nice.” Flowers? His body stilled. Her fingers crept down to his hand and tapped his knuckles. “You know, I never thought you’d stay away this long.” Stay away? Crap. Warning bells sounded in his brain. How could he get out of the truck without making an enemy? Ducking away from her touch, he dropped his hand to the cushion and leaned on it to turn. “Joleen, there’s been a mistake.” “You got that right, sugar. And this has been two years coming.” Her fingers walked up his thigh to his belt, one finger hooking the jeans’ loop. Jeez, he’d always hated her finger-walking habit. What— misdelivered flowers? He shook his head. This conversation was not making sense. “What has?” “Your apology, of course.” A rude snort escaped before he could stifle it. “My apology?” He lifted his right hand to the steering wheel and 15

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out of her reach. “That’s not happening.” The cheating had been all her doing. So what if he’d returned to town a day earlier than expected? They’d had an understanding he’d trusted her to honor. Instead, she’d been out on the town with another man. He ran a hand through his hair and stared out the windshield, remembering the exact words in his note. Let’s pretend it never happened. He cleared his throat and gave her a weak smile. “Joleen, the balloon and flowers were meant for someone else. I’m real sorry you got your hopes up.” “My hopes?” Her lashes shot wide, then narrowed to snaky slits. “Don’t flatter yourself, Clint Merrick.” She yanked on the door handle. “I was merely thanking you. And there was no balloon.” She slammed the door, glared through the window, then lifted her chin and stomped down the sidewalk. For a split second, his gaze tracked her departure, admiring the way she filled out a pair of Wranglers. What man wouldn’t? With a shake, he reminded himself of the shallow person she’d revealed during their first major fight. No regrets on his part regarding their split. Clint grabbed his coat and climbed out, working through the situation in his mind. Okay, so Lacy hadn’t received the daisy bouquet as a peace offering. The balloon with the simpler note inside should have explained enough. He shrugged into his coat, pulling up the collar, and settled his hat onto his head. Time to face the music. He stalked down the sidewalk, his boot heels thumping hard on the concrete. Passing the Book 16

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Nook, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and slowed his pace. Miss Iverson pointed toward the entry door and waved him inside. What now? Tamping down his impatience, he backed up three steps and popped his head inside. “’Mornin’, ma’am. Did you need something?” The gray-haired woman smiled and waved at hand toward the back corner. Toward a helium balloon bobbing in the air current caused by the nearby heater vent. “I just wanted to thank you.” No. Couldn’t be the balloon he ordered. “How do you—” “I asked Zeke when he delivered it.” Clint stepped closer. A balloon with a paper scroll inside. His hand tightened on the door knob and his chest ached with dread. Lacy hadn’t received either gift. Not good. “Um, ma’am.” No thanks owed to the only florist in town, who kept misplacing his glasses. “Somebody drove through my petunias Saturday night. I admire a person who steps forward and apologizes.” How to word this? “Well, Miss Iverson, I’m sorry to say I didn’t send the balloon for your petunias. But I did send it as an apology.” Not wanting to approach Lacy empty-handed, he grabbed out his wallet. Damn if he wasn’t going to have to pay for this balloon twice. “Here’s twenty dollars for the balloon, and I’ll deliver it myself to the right person. Sorry for the mixup.” Clint stepped into Lacy’s Café, easing the balloon inside 17

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the doorframe so it wouldn’t pop. His gaze scanned the room but he didn’t see her blonde head. No worry—she was probably in the kitchen. He shucked his coat and hat, hanging them on a peg on the wall and turned toward the far end of the counter. His step faltered as he caught sight of his usual stool occupied by a stranger. Feeling foolish with the balloon bobbing overheard, he moved behind the counter and secured it next to the cash register. While he was back there, he helped himself to a cup of coffee and walked behind the row of counter stools and ducked into the next-to-last booth. From where he sat, he should see Lacy where she reappeared. Several minutes went by and he sipped his coffee. Out of agitation, he flipped through the menu, even though he’d eaten here so many times he knew it by heart. A shuffle sounded in the next booth and then the poof of someone sitting on the cushioned seat. “Okay, where was I?” Lacy’s voice. Clint slouched in the seat so he could hear better. Maybe he’d get a handle on her mood before approaching her with the apology. With only the balloon to help smooth the way, he needed all the hints possible. “Tell me about the special dance again.” Clint recognized the voice of the waitress Martha. “I was past that part.” “I know, but the telling sounded so romantic…” The table creaked. “Give me a break here, Lacy. I’m an old married lady—let me at least hear about your fun.” Clint braced his hands on the table, looking for his escape 18

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route. He didn’t want to hear about Lacy and her boyfriend at some ritzy place in Amarillo, dancing in a fancy club. “Yeah, it was fun…and a huge surprise.” Lacy’s whisper ended on a sigh. “Clint wasn’t Clint that night.” That awed tone of voice was for him? He leaned back, anxious to hear more, sipping a bit more coffee. If he’d impressed her, he needed to know what she’d liked most. “From what I heard, you two lit up the floor and the moves were hot!” A low whistle sounded. Lacy laughed, low and throaty. “True. Something was different and every move he made exuded sex. Walking tall in his Tony Lamas.” Warmth settled in Clint’s chest. She’d liked his tough guy act. “So that’s it? You had one dance.” “Two,” Clint muttered and then bit his lip, his gaze strafing the area to see if he’d been overheard. Fingernails tapped a hard surface. “Don’t ask me how Lance heard about that night, but he was not happy. Do you believe he accused me of being attracted to Clint?” “Really? What did you say?” “For just a moment, my mind went blank.” Martha’s laugh barked. “Uh-huh.” Lacy had a thing for him? Blood racing, Clint’s senses went on overload. The image of her lips puckered and pink, stretching up for a kiss, settled into his mind. Her warm weight in his arms, the gingery scent of her hair. For the last five days, he’d convinced himself she’d just been swept up in 19

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the moment. Having the attraction verbalized put a different spin on that night. Could she be? “I was going to explain.” Her words were rushed. “I meant to, but something kept stopping me. Probably because I had all the steps memorized from chapter three of that book on being a sex goddess.” He swallowed hard, and his imagination went wild over what that chapter might contain. Holy shit! His sweet Lacy owned such a book and had memorized some moves. The pulsing of his heart thrummed low in his groin. Images of Lacy in alluring outfits, dancing wearing only ounces of gauzy fabric and eluding some kind of mystical scent hardened his cock. “Is that the one with the tantric positions?” Positions he knew, but what the hell was tantric? Clint shifted on the seat and tugged his jeans down at the knee. But his erection strained painfully against the tight fly. “No, that’s later into the book. This one has the steps for the belly dance, and I bought all the veils.” “Wow, I’m impressed. That one sounded tough.” “I told you I’ve been studying.” A fist pounded the table. “Damn that Lance for not understanding. And to think I almost bought that striptease kit—the one with instructions guaranteed to inflame a man’s senses—and a set of red pasties. He’ll never see those on me.” Clint choked and sprayed coffee onto the table. The image of red pasties against her pale skin shot him out of the seat. 20

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What he wanted was to round the end of the booth and brand her as his with a wild kiss. Instead, he grabbed up a menu and held it at waist height, while striding for the door. Without a backward glance. He didn’t care who spotted him. Once he was out the door, he breathed in several cooling breaths. Lacy wasn’t dating that lawyer? He needed confirmation. Did this mean their rotten luck at timing had finally changed? He slid his cell phone from its holder, flipped it open and scrolled through his contact list. “Karli, Clint Merrick. One question.” This was important—the answer here could change his life. His grip tightened. Before he opened his mouth, the answer came. “The field is clear. Go for it, Clint.” “What?” He raised a hand to his forehead that suddenly pounded with a low throb. “You knew?” “Get real. Everyone above the age of puberty knows.” A short laugh sounded. “But I’m willing to help you in any way I can.” He ignored the exasperation in her tone, but couldn’t stop the thoughts jumbling through his brain. Everyone in town knew was the first one. More importantly, Karli was on his side. He had help inside Lacy’s intimate circle. A plan formed. Could he pull it off in time? “Pack a suitcase and have it here at Lacy’s Café tomorrow afternoon by two o’clock. Make sure you include…” He listed what he considered essential for his intended weekend of courtship. The next call was almost as fast. “Ramon, got a pencil? 21

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Write down these supplies.” Two minutes later when he flipped his phone shut, he knew what he needed to do. Time was tight, but his will was strong.

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CHAPTER 3 The next day, Clint pulled into the parking slot at the end of the block, thanking Karli for the foresight to block the space. He moved the orange safety cone and set it on the sidewalk. One obstacle down. A clear path ran from the front door to the truck’s passenger door. Upon entering the café, he spotted Lacy behind the counter, pouring coffee for a customer. At the sound of the bell, she looked up, her welcome smile immediately turning upside down. So she’s still mad. That’s what he intended to fix. He glanced around for Karli and spotted her in a booth toward the front, a paperback 23

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novel open on the table. Looked like step one in the plan was set. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded and shot him a discreet thumbs-up signal. Good—another obstacle covered. Remembering what Lacy had said the previous afternoon, he squared his shoulders and put a bad-ass swagger into his step. He swung a leg over his usual stool and sat, waiting for Lacy’s approach. After several minutes, Martha walked behind him, arms balancing several plates, and said, “Soon as I deliver this order, I’ll be back to take yours.” Clint smiled. “No need, Martha.” He leaned on his forearms and looked down the bar. “I’m waiting for Lacy.” “Nothing new there.” Martha shook her head and walked toward the end of the café. The woman’s remark confirmed what Karli had said. Everyone in town did know of his long-held feelings. Crap— now he’d have to apologize to Cooper. Obviously overhearing the conversation, Lacy’s stare narrowed and she set her mouth into a tight line. Clint picked up a nearby menu and tapped it on the counter. To attract attention, he spoke loudly. “I don’t care if I have to wait here all afternoon, Lacy.” He glanced around and saw he’d achieved his goal. “You’re going to talk to me.” She stomped the length of the counter and grabbed out her order pad and a pen. “What will you have, sir?” The last word was ground out between clenched teeth. Her gaze darted 24

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around the café, pink rising in her cheeks. At the back of his awareness, he noted all other conversations had stopped. Fine, he had nothing to hide. The fact had been made embarrassingly plain within the past twenty-four hours. “I want five minutes of your time with no interruptions.” “Not on the menu.” Blue eyes snapping, she slapped the pad against the edge of the counter and turned to leave. Anticipating that answer, he pressed his hands onto the cool surface and vaulted, his boots clumping on the floor as he landed. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” She whirled, eyes rounded, and jabbed a pointed finger in his direction. “Hey, you can’t be back here.” “Don’t worry. Won’t be for long.” He stooped and grabbed her thighs, tossing her over his shoulder, fireman-style. He headed for the open walk-through at the kitchen end of the counter. “Hey! Stop!” Her hands pressed into his lower back, fingers gripping his shirt. “What are you doing?” “First, I asked nicely. Now, I’m making you listen.” His strides were long and confident as he approached the front of the café. “Help, somebody…anybody. I’m being kidnapped.” Applause erupted among the customers, and the cook Tyler gave a shrill whistle. “Atta boy, Clint.” “About time, boy.” Yep, the whole damn town knew. Clint stared straight 25

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ahead. Karli stood at the front door, one hand on the knob. In her other hand was a small rolling suitcase slung with a duffel bag. “Put them in the bed of the truck.” Lacy shifted on his shoulder. “Karli!” Her voice rose to a wail. “You’re helping him? What kind of sister are you?” “One who wants to see you happy.” She opened the truck’s passenger door and hefted the luggage into the truck bed. “That won’t be with a cowboy.” Lacy started squirming and kicking. “Clint, stop. Where are you taking me? The cowboy remark hurt. “Be still.” Clint swatted her ass, marveling at the satisfaction gained from the resounding slap and the warmth on his palm. “Them hay bales I tote are only a hunerd pounds.” To spite her, he infused a bushel of Texas twang into his words. “I’m only a dumb cowboy. I ain’t practiced at heftin’ a hunerd-thirty-five pounds on my shoulder.” “What?” Her body stilled. “I am not that heavy. I weigh one-twenty-two.” His hand smoothed over her ass with a caress and a squeeze, as if gauging her bulk. “Might’ve misjudged.” He bent and lowered her onto the passenger seat, cradling her head with his hand. Immediately, she scrambled for the driver’s door, her rounded ass shimmying with each lunge. The target was irresistible. He grabbed the back of her jeans, his fingers dipping inside her belt and against her warm 26

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skin. He stilled. Damn, they had a long way to travel and he’d just as soon do it without an erection. With a squeal of frustration, she sat back on her haunches and looked over her shoulder. “Lacy, we need to talk.” Her blue eyes grew stormy and her gaze narrowed. Her stubborn streak he could do without. Damn, this wasn’t working like he’d planned. He pressed his forearm against her shoulder and stretched the seat belt across her upper body, trapping her arms at her sides, and clicked the safety belt. His fingers grazed the edge of her breast and he wished for the boldness to linger there. But he didn’t want to press his luck. Gestures like that came later. “What about my restaurant?” An arm flung in an arc toward the building. “I still have cleanup to do and menus to plan… Oh, Lord, we have an audience.” Clint glanced over his shoulder to see the café’s customers bunched in the doorway and spilled out into the street. Miss Iverson peered out the Book Nook’s window. Once again, he was putting Lacy on display for the town’s entertainment. Irritation flashed through his thoughts. “Do not move.” With a final stern glare, Clint eased away and set out around the front of the truck. He walked with one eye on the blonde spitfire inside his cab. He lifted his hat and swept it in front of his chest in a mock bow. “’Afternoon, folks. Go on back to your food.” Karli stepped close and rested a hand on her sister’s arm. 27

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“I’m closing today. Martha, Tyler and I will take care of things here, Lacy.” She squirmed against the belt and freed an arm. “What about Mama? You know she’s not been taking her medicine.” “I’ll check in on her this weekend.” Karli’s eyes rounded and she slammed the door, bracing her hands on the outside. Clint slid into his seat and cringed at his cohort’s unfortunate choice of words. “Weekend?” Lacy reached for the door handle, shoving her shoulder against the frame. “Let me out.” Clint had already pressed the automatic lock button and he fired up the engine, glad for Karli’s support in keeping the door latched. “This is kidnapping, plain and simple.” Lacy crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the front window. The crowd on the sidewalk waved and cheered. “Nice attitude. I guess the crime goes with the subject’s behavior.” Clint steered the pickup toward the highway. Just as well. He wanted the right atmosphere for his apology, and the inside of his truck cab was not it. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. I have responsibilities here.” She dug in her purse for her cell phone and flipped it open, thumbs from both hands punching buttons. “I have—” He reached over and grabbed the phone from her hand, hitting the off button before pocketing the unit. “Like Karli said, your duties are covered.” At the next intersection, he eased off the accelerator and steered the truck onto a side road. 28

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“The airport? Where do you think you’re taking me?” Hands tight on the wheel, Clint turned a questioning gaze on her, eyebrow lifted. “Lacy, do you trust me?” *

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“Trust you?” She looked around as the back side of the municipal airport came into view. What was he up to? An afternoon snack at the airport café? “Well, yes.” “Then sit back and relax. I guarantee you’re going to enjoy this.” Really, she was way too busy to be gone from the restaurant, but she had to admit, her curiosity was aroused. What did Clint know she’d enjoy? Ten minutes later, she sat, practically dumbfounded, in the cockpit of a small aircraft with the name Merrick Enterprises painted on the side. Clint was a corporation? When had that happened? Beside her, an accomplished pilot ran through a set of officialsounding checks and tests, conversing with someone via his headset. Obviously Clint was a regular visitor here. Everyone they’d seen since their arrival had greeted him like an old friend. “Here, put these on.” Clint reached between the seats. “Once we get airborne, this is the only way we’ll be able to communicate.” She accepted the headphones from pilot Clint, still trying to reconcile this new information with what she’d always known about the man. With the headset adjusted comfortably, she waited. 29

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“Hear this, Lacy?” Clint’s low, smooth voice tickled her ears and she nodded. A hand reached toward her waist and he double-checked her safety belt. “All set. I just got clearance, so we’ll be off.” The gesture resonated somewhere deep in her chest. “Why didn’t I know you had a pilot’s license? Or a plane? Or a whole company?” His finger tapped her nose. “Just relax. Enjoy the ride.” Then he turned and his focus went to the task of getting the plane into the air. She turned as much as the belt allowed, wedging a shoulder against the seat. This new Clint was fascinating to watch. Purpose and confidence flowed through every movement. The airplane jerked and rolled forward, picking up speed as he maneuvered toward the open runway. Her attention was torn between the desire to watch him in this new role and not wanting to miss a minute of the takeoff. For the next hour, she was like a kid at a toy store. Everywhere she turned, she saw something she wanted to point out to Clint. Although he’d obviously flown this trip before, he responded to each of her comments. A flat-topped mountain came into view. Mountain? In north Texas? She turned. “Hey, where are we going? What’s that mountain?” He banked the plane to the right and studied a dial before answering. “One of my landmarks. The name is Tucumcari. Some say it means lookout point in Comanche. Another explanation is that an Apache warrior named Tocom lost the battle for the 30

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hand of his love, an Apache maiden named Kari.” He turned and looked at her, then continued with the story. “In her grief, she stabbed the other warrior and then herself. Her father saw the tragedy and turned the knife on himself and died saying their names—Tocom-Kari.” At the soft look in his eyes, her heart beat faster. Clint was a romantic. “That’s sad. Maybe every culture has a Romeo and Juliet story.” “Relax.” His gaze ran over her face and he grinned. “Enjoy. Forget the details.” He kept saying that—like he’d adopted a new mantra. Just relax, huh? When was the last time she’d done that? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought only about herself. The café, suppliers, employee schedules, Mama—all demanded her attention. At least as of four days ago, she didn’t have to worry about making room for Lance. The plane dipped, her stomach jerked and she braced for the descent. Her attention focused on the structures coming into sharper focus as they dropped in altitude. Was that a little town ahead? Which one? She leaned forward, suddenly caught up in the adventure. Her cell phone was off, even if that hadn’t been her choice. From the remoteness of the area, she might not have had service. No one could reach her with a problem to be solved or a request that demanded her time before the day was over. Even if this respite only lasted an afternoon, she was grateful. Turbulence lifted then rocked the plane. Clint’s arm shot across her chest. “Lacy, sit back.” 31

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The tips of her breasts warmed against his arm. For just a second, she savored the sensation of having someone else concerned for her safety, of being protected. Her nipples budded, and heat flooded her face. “Sorry.” “No need.” He pulled his arm back, his elbow grazing the side of her breast. “Save it for when we reach the ground.” *

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Green conifers lined the mountain road and edged up the dirt slope. Only once had her family vacationed in the Piney Woods, instead of heading south to Port Arkansas and the Gulf of Mexico. The beauty caused her to feel like she should whisper. The man driving so competently behind the wheel continued to surprise her. He’d been greeted by the workers at this landing strip in much the same way as at the airport back home, with one notable difference. These men addressed him as Mr. Merrick. This four-wheel drive truck painted with his company’s name had been waiting. With barely a word, he’d transferred the suitcases to the back and ushered her into the cab. “Do I get to know where we’re going?” “Impatient?” He flashed a grin and reached over to squeeze her knee. “Five more minutes. I want you to get the full visual effect.” What was the man up to? His casual touches felt possessive, but she was still mad. Wasn’t she? Her curiosity burned, but she didn’t want him to know. With secretive glances, she watched him from the corners of 32

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her eyes while still absorbing every bit of the passing scenery. On the right, a path broke through the trees and he slowed the truck to make the turn. Within a couple minutes, the gravel road widened to a space displaying a log cabin with a sloping roof that looked like it had always been there. Past it rose a mountain range tinged red. He turned off the truck engine. “Be it ever so humble…” “Humble? It’s beautiful. This is yours?” She pulled on the door handle and stepped out, a shiver running over her body at the cold air. “Here, put on this.” He trotted around the front of the truck with his jacket in his hand. “Yeah, somehow I came on this trip but left my coat behind.” She huddled underneath his fleece-lined denim jacket. Without being too obvious, she lifted the lapels along her cheeks and inhaled the faint scent of Clint’s spicy cologne. With a shake of his head, he ducked his chin. “A simple oversight.” A short walk and they stood in the entryway. Lacy had to keep from uttering yet another statement of surprise at what she was learning about him. At first look, the cabin was rustic—log walls, stone fireplace, wood lintels over the windows. As she walked through the living room, she spotted touches of recent remodeling. Tan carpeting was still plush all over, a satellite box under a wall-mounted plasma TV, rotisserie grill and convection oven. “This is the family cabin you’ve mentioned?” “Has been the family’s for years. Since I use it most, I’ve 33

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put in some upgrades.” “Nice. Very cozy.” He moved to the large window and slid his hands into his hip pockets. “Yeah, this is one of my favorite views.” Lacy watched the movement of his hands, wondering what he’d do if she slid hers inside too. Keeping a couple feet between them, she stepped to the window and lifted her gaze to where he looked. “Those mountains are beautiful. What range is it?” “The Sango de Cristes…it means blood of Christ. But no more tales and geography lessons.” He reached for her hands and clasped them. “This weekend is for you, Lacy. A chance to get away from Soledad, the café and anything else bothering you back home. I aim to provide the setting for a totally relaxing weekend.” Her concentration went to the caress of his thumb on the back of her hand. How could that simple gesture set butterflies loose in her stomach? She ran a suddenly damp hand down the side of her khaki slacks, and touched something slimy. Oh, great! Food residue from the lunch rush. “Maybe I’ll freshen up and put on something that doesn’t smell like food.” “I think you look great, but everything is your choice.” His chin jerked toward the staircase. “The bedrooms are upstairs. I’ll show you.” He walked to the entry and grabbed their luggage. Following Clint was no sacrifice. Her gaze followed the way each stride pulled his jeans tight across his ass. The grip she had on the banister tightened as she took a deep breath. Was the man asking to be attacked? 34

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CHAPTER 4 At the top of the stairs, he pointed with his free hand. “My bedroom’s down that way, the bathroom is here and two more bedrooms are down this hall. Actually I’m not done remodeling one of them.” The temptation to see where Clint slept was strong, but she somehow knew entrance would be by invitation. Who was she kidding? Sleeping in the same cabin with the man was bound to get personal. Especially since this appeared to be the only bathroom. She turned the knob and peeked into the room. Her jaw dropped and, unable to resist, she stepped inside. An oldfashioned claw foot tub sat into a niche in the far wall, right in 35

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front of floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed the rugged, high-plains scenery. “Isn’t she a beaut?” Clint’s whisper tickled her ear. Lacy startled and then relaxed. “And so tempting.” “Okay, one indulgence coming up.” He moved past her, his hard chest jostling her. With quick twists, he turned the faucets and then lifted two fluffy towels from a cupboard shelf. “On the bottom shelf under the sink is an assortment of bath stuff.” Convinced she’d be looking at the half-used castoffs of a previous lady friend, she strode across the tile floor and opened a door. There she found a rectangular basket overflowing with her favorite gels, salts and lotions, a loofah and a sea sponge, and a pumice stone. She glanced over her shoulder. “Nice selection.” “Did Karli get your favorites?” He stretched to light a candle in a glass bowl on a nearby shelf. Pillar candles on round stands flickered in the space between the window and the tub. On seeing what he had done, Lacy’s throat grabbed tight. She swallowed hard, selected the items she wanted and approached the tub. “When I saw the brands, I had a clue she must’ve had a hand in this.” With a swirling motion, she poured in some gel and watched the water froth. “Sure, why not go to the expert?” He cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ll be outside tending to…some stuff for a while. Hope I didn’t forget anything.” His care and concern brought a lump to her throat and the 36

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backs of her eyes burned. He was being so sweet, so considerate. “This is great, Clint. Thanks.” Not wanting him to see her brimming eyes, she trailed a hand in the steamy water. “See ya.” Boot steps clumped across the floor. “Enjoy.” And the door clicked shut, followed by receding thumps on the stairs. Lavender and vanilla scented the air and she inhaled, readying her body for the herb’s relaxation powers. The bubbles rose toward the tub rim, and she leaned over and turned off the water. A movement outside the window caught her eye and she spotted Clint striding across the yard toward an outbuilding, maybe a small barn. For a moment, she enjoyed the easy grace of his long legs in motion, then he disappeared. The steam sent out persuasive tendrils and she tugged at the fastenings on her clothes. Stripped to only bra and panties, she realized she had nothing clean to put on. With a shrug, she shed her clothes and slipped into the delicious water. A towel would be enough cover to get her safely to her room. The warmth enveloped her and she sank to her chin, bracing her feet on the tub’s side walls to stay in place. Within moments, the muscles in her shoulders loosened and she rested her head on the porcelain. Her eyelids grew heavy and fluttered closed. By now, Karli should be checking inventory—Her eyes shot open and she stiffened. No thoughts about her business. She forced herself to just lie still and enjoy the soothing heat surrounding her body. Only relaxation. Slow ankle 37

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rotations, point and flex. Let the lavender work its spirithealing magic. Deliberately, she told herself to move various muscles. With a specific task maybe she’d keep her thoughts focused. Lacy swam a hand through the water, making waves that moved the islands of bubbles, and accidentally brushed a nipple. Zing. Ooh, that felt good. Clint had told her to relax. Not many activities better than an orgasm to create relaxation. She trailed her fingers over her belly, enjoying the glide aided by the slick water, and pulled them up the rise of her breast. A light pinch on the tip and a bud ripened. Arousal ran through her body and she embraced it, rubbing both hands over her thighs and belly. If that stupid Lance wasn’t ruled by his puffed-up ego, the last time she’d had sex might have been five days ago instead of five months ago. Damn, keep your thought here and now. Focus on what Lacy Durant needs. Her body deserved this. One hand massaged a breast, fingers tweaking the hard bud. The other hand slid through the downy hair over her mons, fingers spreading over her labia. Long, gliding strokes on both sides of her clit built the tension spiraling deep inside. Lowering a hand, she grabbed the top of the tub and she arched, pressing against her movements. But it wasn’t enough. A rosy glow seeped through her eyelids and she opened them to a window filled with fiery sunrays. The perfect inspiration. Scooping up handfuls of bubbles, she rose and 38

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stepped to the end of the tub, concentrating on the sun’s descent as her hands continued caressing her skin. The western sky was layered with folds of blue and indigo over orange and red. Golden fire shot outward from behind the mountain peak. The echo of the native legend floated through her mind. True love lives on. Slippery movements along her belly made her wish the hands touching her were larger, rougher. Like Clint’s hands. At the thought, heat bloomed in her pussy and she dropped her chin. Her gaze caught a man’s silhouette in the yard. Crap! She spread her hands to cover herself, turning away. Until a decadent thought crossed her mind. What if putting on a little show for Clint was the extra titillation she needed to climax? With only candles lighting the bathroom, he couldn’t see much more than shadows. A hand smoothed the thinning bubbles along her ass and then she offered her profile, jutting out her breasts. All thoughts of the right or wrong flew out of her mind. Knowing she was on display made her blood race, but she focused on what felt good. Her hands rose to cup her breasts and push them together, thumbs flicking across her erect nipples. Somewhere in the cabin a phone rang. Just once. At the excitement racing through her body, she gasped, her breath hitching in her throat. A foot lifted to rest on the edge of the tub and one hand lowered to her pussy, fingers delving into her slick labia. The sheer indulgence fired her actions. She clenched her ass and rocked her hips against the 39

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movement of her hand. The door crashed against the wall. “Ahh,” she screamed and whipped her head around. Clint stood just inside the door with a cell phone to his ear. His chest heaved as he breathed hard, and his dark gaze raked her body. Heat flashed across her skin. She looked out the window and spotted a man in the same spot as before, his hand holding a phone to his ear. Oh, crap. *

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*

“I’ll do that.” With a shaky hand, Clint disconnected the call and dropped the phone behind him. Jealousy was his only excuse for crashing into the bathroom unannounced. He hadn’t believed what Ramon claimed to be watching when he called. He’d been proven wrong. As he’d imagined so many times, Lacy’s body was perfect. Rounded ass, slim waist, and plump breasts. What he hadn’t imagined was her as an exhibitionist—a discovery he intended to remember at a later time. Right now, he was just trying to suck in enough oxygen to keep from keeling over. “Clint! What are you doing?” “Me? I’m upgrading my viewing position for the titillation show.” Leaning a hand on the wall, he stepped out of a boot and yanked off a sock. She clasped a forearm across her breasts and jerked a thumb over her shoulder, then slapped that hand over her ass. “Who’s in the yard?” Her knees bent and she dropped into the 40

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water, a grimace twisting her mouth. Poor thing. The water must be cold. Taking his time, he stripped his other foot of boot and sock. “My friend, Ramon Montemayor. He wanted me to say thanks. So far, your…uh…display is the social highlight of his month.” And Clint burned with the knowledge he’d missed it. Reluctant to crowd her, he eased over to the vanity and leaned a hip against it. By now, the water was clear of bubbles, but she’d wrapped arms around bent knees, effectively shielding her body. Forcing an innocent grin, he asked, “Enjoy your bath?” Her eyes closed and she shook her head, then ducked her chin. “I’m so embarrassed.” A shiver ran through her body. “No need. You were seeking relaxation.” He pushed off the sink and moved to the head of the tub to start the water flowing again. At the rushing sound, her head popped up. “Why are you doing that?” “To warm you. Pull the plug and let out some of the cold.” He’d have done it but she seemed too skittish for him to put any body part into the water. Instead, he tipped the bottle of scented gel and allowed a stream to fall for several seconds before recapping it. “I’m not sure…” He worked hard to keep his voice light, wanting her to accept his presence here. “I see your muscles are tense again.” “They are…a little bit.” She glanced at the rising meringues of bubbles and loosened her hold on her legs. One 41

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hand crept under the water to replace the plug, and she turned down the water to a thin stream. Just the indication he needed. “Lacy, turn around.” With quick twists, he unbuttoned his cuffs and pulled his denim shirt over his head, leaving on his t-shirt. Kneeling, he grabbed the sea sponge and dipped it into the water, wringing out the warm water over her shoulders. In slow circles, he rubbed the sponge over her back, moving deeper along her sides with each stroke. “Ahh, that’s nice.” Her hands grasped the edge of the tub and her head drooped, exposing her neck. “So soothing.” Soothing wasn’t exactly the mood he was aiming for. He let his fingers trail behind the sponge as he ran it down her spine. The tips of his fingers felt electrified, like when he touched the goat fence before Ramon switched it off. Her body stiffened and then her shoulders shimmied, as if asking for more. “Lacy, do you feel that tingle? Like when we danced?” “Hmmm. Probably static.” “Static doesn’t happen in water.” He ran his fingers lightly along the ridge of her collarbone and watched her skin ripple with gooseflesh. No denying that reaction. “This is between us.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nape, swirling his tongue over the bone. A bit soapy, but worth the taste of warm skin. “Are you relaxing?” “Uh-huh.” “That’s good.” His fingers ran along her ribs to her slender 42

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waist, silky skin sliding beneath his fingers. Going slow was killing him. What he wanted was to reach his hands around and cup both breasts. Let the weight fill his hands, burning their shape into his memory. But he hesitated. “What about your arms? Were they tense?” Moving along the side of the tub, he lifted her arm and ran the soapy sponge along the top and then back along the underside. She sucked in a breath and, with the inhalation, her breasts rose two inches above the bubbles. The revealed skin was enticing, slippery and pale. Heat pooled in his groin and he flexed his hips so his erection pressed against the cold porcelain tub. Pleasurable pain wrapped around his cock and he gritted his teeth. If he wasn’t careful, he’d jump way ahead of her pace. Reaching for her other arm, his forearm grazed her nipples. And she moaned, her body rocking forward. Maybe she was closer than he thought. He dropped the sponge into the water and used his bare hands to smooth the bubbles along her arm. A knee popped out of the water, then disappeared. Then the other one appeared. Lacy grabbed one side of the tub, her other hand remaining hidden by the bubbles. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not in private.” Her head rolled on her shoulder, her breaths puffing out. “What are you talking about?” “No pleasuring yourself where I can’t see you.” Blue eyes blinked wide. “You want to watch?” “You bet.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his, 43

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licking her upper lip. “Especially since your earlier display was obviously intended for me.” “Want to know a secret?” “There’s more?” “When I stood at the window…” Her eyelids drooped and she looked from below her lashes. A sight he’d forever regret missing. “Well…” Her gaze met his and then shifted away, and she sighed. “I was imagining your hands on my body.” A wet arm draped along the tub edge and she rested her chin there. “The rough texture of your thumb on—” He stilled, his brain shifting through the possibility of a different interpretation. Nope. There could be only the one. He shot to his feet and lifted Lacy upright until she stood, water running over her curves in rivulets. “My thumb where?” He ran it down her sternum, gaze locked onto hers. “Here?” “Lower.” Her eyelids fluttered, a sly smile teasing the corner of her mouth. Clint wanted no question about who wanted what. “Show me.” Pink bloomed in her cheeks, but she grasped his hand and pushed it along her stomach, stopping just below her navel. With the tip of his thumb, he outlined the shallow indentation, watching her eyelids close all the way. “Here?” “If you want, cowboy.” She caught her lower lip with her teeth and sucked. Her nipples reacted, becoming taut berries. His mouth went dry and desire grabbed him low in the gut. The intended game of teasing her had switched and he was the 44

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one hungering for more. Stretching his hand, he slid a finger through the soft hair covering her sex and dragged his thumb down her belly. His finger lowered and traced the edges of her silky petals. The wetness was from more than the bathwater. Her legs clamped together, and a hand moved from his forearm to his waist. “I should—” “Darlin’, let me do this for you.” For balance, he pressed his legs against the tub, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and eased her side against his chest. “I want to touch you.” His finger slid inside her heat and he dragged it out, circling her tight clit. “Hmmm.” Her head rolled on his shoulder. Two fingers stroked along the petals of her pussy. Her channel was hot and slick, and the musky scent of arousal rose between their bodies. She shifted and snaked an arm over his shoulder, pressing a warm breast against his chest. Through the thin cloth of his t-shirt, he felt her hard nipple graze his own and a raspy groan rose in his throat. “Like that, do you?” A mischievous light glinted in her blue eyes. Why did helping her relax make him as hard as a rock? All over his body. His hand dropped over her shoulder and fingers grazed across her budded nipple. Two fingers dove into her channel and circled and then pulled slowly, pressing along the ridged walls. Soft mewling gasps blew through her lips, and she arched into his touch. “Oh, Clint.” 45

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Hearing his name on a whisper struck a chord in his chest. Unable to resist, he leaned close to nuzzle her neck and nibble the skin right below her ear. Her grip on his neck tightened and she rocked herself against his hand. “So close. Uh, uh, oh, yeah…” His thumb circled her clit and then flicked across its engorged surface with short strokes. The pulses started around his fingers and moved outward to press her pussy lips against his palm. When the pressure of his groin rocking against her hip got too intense, he took a deep breath and angled away. This was not about his satisfaction. His goal was to please Lacy. He thrust his fingers deep one more time and then inched them out slowly, circling her opening and sliding them along her petals one last time, feeling the tremors recede. A long, loud exhalation echoed in the room, and her body sagged against his chest. Ragged breaths tickled his neck, his own breathing ruffled her hair. A shiver ran through her body, jostling her head against his jaw. His body was still on overdrive, but he moved his hands over her quickly cooling skin. “Time to dry off.” Supporting her with one hand, he grabbed a towel and tossed it over her shoulders. With a quick move, he wrapped her upper body in a bear hug. “I’ve got you. Bend your knees.” Once on the mat, she rubbed her hands along her arms. “Wow, that water dropped in temperature fast.” “Yeah, right.” Aided by the drop in her adrenaline. He ran the towel over her body faster than he would have liked. 46

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Tonight was not the occasion for making a game out of getting dry. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. “Eek. Hey, cowboy, I can walk.” “I know.” His hand shifted and he palmed her ass with a slow caress. “But this is a lot more fun.” Inside the room, he deposited her in front of the bed and wrapped the towel over her shoulders. Light from an almost full moon filtered through the window, highlighting the bed. He grabbed up the purple clothes lying in a heap on the quilt and, with deft moves, dressed her. An act accomplished without sneaking an extra caress. “Clint.” Lacy stepped close and rested a hand on his chest, her thumb sifting through the springy hairs above the shirt. “This doesn’t feel fair.” The tense muscles in his body ached in total agreement. “This is what I want for you tonight.” She stepped back, glanced at the front of his jeans and raised an eyebrow. “This is what you want? Really?” Schooling his features into a nonchalant mask, he nodded and gave her a casual grin. Even though his cock throbbed against his jeans in rhythm with his heartbeat. He laid a hand on her shoulder and pointed. “Climb into bed.” “I always knew you were bossy.” She glanced up with a narrowed gaze, her finger running along the edge of his shirt. “With two conditions. Stay with me until I fall asleep.” Tough, but he could handle that one. He nodded. “What’s the other?” 47

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She hooked a finger in his jeans waistband, scooted it under his shirt, and ran it along his heated skin. “Lose the jeans.” His stomach muscles clenched and instinct flexed his hips. Now, this would be tougher. But he’d do it to prove the focus was on her this weekend. “Lacy, go.” He turned her and gave her ass a gentle swat. “I’m right behind you.” “Oh, I’m counting on that.” She looked over her shoulder and flashed a sly grin. “You know, I’m keeping tally and I owe you two swats.” One eyelid dropped into a sexy wink and her lips pouted into a circle. “Payback can be such fun.” Clenching his hands, he crossed his arms over his chest to keep from grabbing her and satisfying the lust that fired at her comment. The anticipation might be his undoing. The bed was an old-fashioned trundle bed with a mattress higher than three feet off the floor. She had to plant her hands on the mattress and jump up. Once under the quilt, she patted the space beside her. “I want you right here.” In what was becoming a mantra, he reminded himself the weekend was about Lacy and what would help her relax. As he approached the bed, he unclasped his belt buckle. If the weekend went the way he hoped, she’d be saying those words in a different context. With a careful move, he lowered the zipper and then shoved the jeans down his legs. His heavy cock bulged against the front of his knit boxers, but no longer pulsed from the jeans’ tight constraint. Lifting only the quilt, he slid onto the top sheet and gathered Lacy into his arms, settling her head close to his 48

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heart. Thankfully, her skin had already warmed so she probably hadn’t caught a chill. A hand tugged at the sheet. “No fair. You’re not next to me.” “Close enough.” He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and stroked a finger along her soft cheek. “Let me just hold you.” Several minutes passed in silence, but his hands were in motion, stroking whatever bare skin he could touch. “Are we going to talk about what happened tonight?” Don’t analyze this to death, Lacy. He had to keep things light. “You mean about Ramon getting an eyeful?” “That’s crude.” Her body stiffened and an arm pressed against his hold. “Shh, lie still.” He grasped her elbow and ran a finger along the tender skin on the inside of her arm. She shuddered, pulling her arm tight to her body. “Oh, that tickles.” His fingers rested against her breast, and he had to fight the impulse to explore that soft flesh. “I mean about what happened between us in the bathtub.” The answer he gave here was so important in setting out the boundaries for the weekend. He pressed a finger under her chin and lifted until he gazed into her eyes. “Two questions. Did you consent?” “Well, I guess you could—” “Not an explanation, Lacy. A simple yes or no.” “Yes.” The word whooshed out on an exhalation. 49

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“More importantly, did you receive pleasure?” She rolled her eyes. “That was obvious.” “What is there to discuss?” She blinked. Her brows drew into a frown and her mouth opened, paused and then closed again. Her head nestled against his shoulder. The temptation to lose himself in her sweet mouth was huge. Instead, he brushed a kiss on her temple and stroked her hair until her breathing deepened and her weight grew heavy against his body. He scooted lower and curved his body around hers, lying to himself that all he wanted was to make sure she slept. Staying at her side was torture, but one he willingly endured.

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CHAPTER 5 Dull thuds, like a distant knocking, aroused Lacy from her lovely dream of dancing with Clint. But this Clint had long, straight hair and wore only leggings made from animal skin. All that lingered was the security of being held tight in his strong arms. The look in his eyes was the same as at Hank’s Cantina. Not many things in life are better than the first awareness of a special man. She rolled and snuggled her face deeper into the pillow. The dream beckoned, but the rhythmic thudding continued. Was someone at the door? Way out here? Where was Clint? He’d been here in the bed at least part of 51

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the night because she remembered cuddling up to his heat. He wasn’t here now and the cold sheets beside her were evidence he’d been gone a while. That pounding would definitely keep her from drifting back to sleep. She shoved off the quilt, hopped out of bed, and immediately shivered. The pajamas Karli had packed weren’t the best for the colder air here in the high desert. Dragging a blanket around her shoulders, she started toward the bedroom door, but then realized the sound came from outside, from the back yard. She moved to the window and held aside the curtain. The sight of Clint stripped to the waist and swinging an axe caught her attention. Muscles moved across his back in a flowing rhythm that hypnotized, like the lazy waves of the gulf. She leaned her head against the window frame, arms crossed over her chest. He was the image of a man who belonged in the wilderness of one hundred-fifty years ago. Competent and confident. With knowledge for every situation. Why had she never noticed this before? Well, she saw it now and that recognition resonated deep in her feminine awareness. The friend she’d always relied on as a sounding board was definitely offering more. Especially if last night’s incident in the tub was any indication. She closed her eyes to savor the memory of Clint’s hands arousing her body. Being brought to orgasm by skillful fingers was an enjoyable first. The thoughts of their interaction made her womb clench and she squeezed her legs together, her labia 52

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tingling. The sharp keen of an eagle sounded. When the last note died away, she realized the chopping had stopped. She opened her eyes to see Clint leaning on the axe set into the block, staring in her direction. Caught ogling, she waved. After a return wave, he pantomimed opening the window. The latch released with a snap and she lifted the window halfway. “’Morning, Lacy. Sleep well?” With a dream like she’d had… “Great.” Cool air blew into the room and she pulled the blanket tighter. “Are you warm enough?” A hand tapped on the axe handle. “Plenty. Here’s my personal heater.” He pulled a red bandanna from his back pocket and wiped his forehead. “Dress in jeans and boots. This morning, we’re going out riding.” Although she hadn’t ridden in ten years, she hated to disappoint him, but shook her head. “Sorry. I no longer own any.” “Look in the duffel bag. Karli had to dig deep in your closet.” He jerked the axe from the block. “I’ll be done here in about ten minutes and will definitely be needing the shower.” Riding jeans? Cowboy boots? Surely, she’d gotten rid of those when she left for chef school. Ten years—about the same time she’d stopped dressing like all the rest of the people in Texas. “Lacy? Did you hear me?” “Yeah. I’ll be out of your way.” She took one last look at 53

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his gorgeous body and then stepped away, letting the curtain fall. Riding clothes, huh? She stomped across the room to the closet and pulled out the duffel bag. Had this really been there last night? Inside were her favorite jeans from high school. She ran a hand over the supple fabric. The touch evoked good memories of hours spent on Butternut, the one horse her family owned not used for her father’s tumultuous rodeo career. Within minutes she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the image of the woman she’d been. How did the clothes change so much about her? Downstairs, a door slammed and she grabbed her hairbrush. “Warning! You’d better be done or willing to share the bathroom with a sweaty man.” For a moment, she was tempted. The idea did have merit. She crossed the hall and lounged in the bedroom doorway waiting, wanting to see him up close. Suddenly, she needed that visual connection. He bounded up the stairs, grinning. “Hot damn, you look great. Now there’s the Lacy I remember.” He jammed hands on his hips and gave her a slow perusal. “Jeans might be a bit more filled out than before.” Eyes shining bright, shirt open and displaying a fit chest and tight stomach and the curly hair circling his navel. Now she knew his secret for keeping so fit. “Don’t go there, cowboy.” A part of her admired him for speaking the truth. A very small part. “While you shower, I’ll head downstairs and get breakfast started.” 54

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“Already done. You’re not to lift a finger more than pouring your first cup of coffee.” He turned to the left and headed to his end of the hall, shrugging out of his damp shirt as he walked. “Be down in a few.” She took a step to one side so she could watch as he moved away. The sight of his bare skin was fast becoming an addiction. *

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After a minimum of stirrup adjustment, Clint was satisfied the fit was correct and they’d set off from the cabin. Walking and trotting the horses over trails and small pastures gave them little time to talk. Lacy spotted a likely resting spot and pointed toward a small stand of trees on another rise. “Let’s ride over there.” “Can’t. That’s the neighbor’s property.” His voice held an apologetic tone. So, over there was the neighbor’s? With one hand on the pommel, she twisted to stare behind them, but saw him instead. A broad-shouldered cowboy on a tall horse framed by a dramatic sky and red craggy rocks took her breath away. Her heart raced, and she cleared her throat. “You mean the whole time we’ve been riding, we’ve been on your land?” His gaze moved over the land they’d traveled and his chin dipped. “Except near the arroyo we crossed. I granted an easement to Ramon for his acreage running up and over that ridge.” “Ah, the mysterious Ramon who skulks around your 55

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property at night, spying on unsuspecting women.” “Playing with yourself in front of a window sounds nothing like an unsuspecting woman to my ears.” He shifted in the saddle and ran a gloved hand down his thigh. Her blasé attitude must be for his benefit and he loved it. Not much about her he didn’t appreciate. “More like a woman hell-bent on seduction.” Did he really think that about her? “Hah, that sounds like the title of a bad B-movie.” Since she would probably never live down last night’s event, she’d best drop the subject. Best to go for the distraction. “I saw you packing something into your saddlebags.” “A nosy one, huh? This isn’t the exact spot I wanted for our lunch, but we’ll find some place.” He stood tall in his stirrups and gazed at the surroundings, twisting to look to the east. “Those gray clouds are rolling in faster than I thought. Might get snow flurries tonight.” A nudge of her boot heels urged Cayenne next to Clint’s Big Red. “Tell me what you packed.” “Hungry again?” A breeze carried his scent to her—clean soap and an indefinable male essence. “These cold temperatures and vigorous exercise spark my appetite.” Oh, that hadn’t come out like she intended. But she needed to toss out the subject and watch for a response. So far, he’d acted oblivious to the closeness they shared the previous night. An attitude that frustrated her to no end. He let loose a quick laugh. “I’ll remember those details.” 56

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A gust of sharp wind swirled up the dirt and made the horses shift their feet. “Brr. I’m not so sure about this outdoor picnic you’ve planned.” “Picnic? What I packed isn’t more than a small snack.” A frown pulled his brows low as he studied the horizon again. “Let’s turn back. I’ll take a more direct path. Stay close.” Lacy took note of his serious tone, gathered the reins and nodded. She reached up and settled the borrowed hat tighter on her head. The somber look on his face unsettled her. On the return trip, he took the gullies at a faster pace. Twenty minutes later, the cabin came into view. She urged the horse into an easy canter, feeling the exhilaration of being in motion with the powerful animal. The crotch of her tight jeans rubbed on her pussy. By rocking her hips forward, she increased the pressure until tingles ran down both legs. Too soon, she rode abreast of the cabin. With a groan, she pulled back on the reins to slow the horse to a walk. “Whoa, girl.” Cayenne danced sideways, her head tossing in impatient jerks that pulled at the reins. “Hold her tight.” Clint reined in Big Red and dismounted, grabbing hold of her horse’s bridle. “Forgot to tell you this one will run forever if you give her the chance. I’ve got her. You can dismount now.” She slid down and had to grab the damp saddle blanket when her knees buckled. Oh boy, she’d be sore tomorrow. Shedding her gloves as she followed Clint into the barn, she noted the way he handled the horses, talking in a low murmur. 57

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Another quality about the man to admire. The earthy smell of fresh hay and warm horses didn’t bother her like she’d expected. The barn was small, with only two stalls, a tack room and an open area stacked with hay bales. Along the side wall was a workbench with tools hung on a rack. Everything in its place, just as she’d expect from Clint. She followed Clint’s example and pulled off her coat and gloves, tossing them on a nearby bench. When Cayenne was secured, she moved to the mare’s side and reached for the cinch strap. Clint brushed her hand aside and stepped close, his thigh pressing against hers. “Lacy, you don’t have to do that. I know you don’t like the cowboy life.” His presence heated the air, and her unsatisfied arousal kicked up a notch. Struggling to keep a clear head, she bumped him aside with her hip and pulled at the buckle. “Hey, I grew up around horses. I remember what to do.” She told herself to concentrate on the task instead of the heaviness swirling in her womb. Several minutes passed in companionable silence as they brushed out horses’ coats and checked hooves for injuries or imbedded stones. “You haven’t forgotten how.” Clint’s stare over Big Red’s back was searching. “Kinda like riding a bike.” She knew exactly what he wanted to hear, but she couldn’t say the words. Cowboys weren’t dependable. She’d lived through her father’s desertion of the family to chase an elusive rodeo buckle, and 58

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remembered how those separations had hurt her mother. “First rule of horseback riding. If you ride, then you tend to the animal—after the fun comes the work.” “Was the ride fun?” If he only knew. “I loved the scenery.” She glanced up and caught her breath. His dark look was intense. Body held tense, he waited for more, the brush stilled on Big Red’s shoulder. Hope flashed in his eyes and then he turned back to the horse. This weekend was important and she knew he’d gone to a lot of trouble to make it special. She ducked under the horse’s neck and stepped beside Clint, running a hesitant hand up his arm. Under her fingers, the muscles bunched. “I want you to know I didn’t hate the ride.” “I’m glad.” Two more strokes and he pitched the currycomb into a nearby bucket. “I’ll get them some oats. Can you take Cayenne into the nearest stall?” Almost as if she’d done the task yesterday, she walked the horse into the stall, unhooked the headstall and pulled it off Cayenne’s head. Next, she tore off a couple flakes of hay and turned. A metal bucket in one hand, Clint leaned against the edge of the stall, a twinkle lighting the depths of his dark eyes. “What?” She shot him a glare, then stomped into the stall and spread the hay in the manger. “Just enjoying the view.” He stepped inside and held out the bucket of oats. “You look real good, Lacy.” She took the bucket and hung it on the wall. His comment 59

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rolled around in her head. Did she look good because she was going through the regular routine and he wasn’t having to remind her or because she was doing what he wanted? Even if these tasks were easily remembered, she didn’t have to want them back in her life. Or did she? “Hey, what did you mean?” She secured the stall door and turned, just in time to see his boots disappearing up the ladder to the hay loft. Where did he think he was going? Trying to avoid an explanation? Lacy scurried across the barn floor and hopped on the ladder. At the top, she paused and watched as Clint pulled the last items from his saddlebags and set them on a slightly wrinkled tablecloth covering most of a plaid stadium blanket. The fact he’d remembered warmed her. “Our picnic.” “Not exactly my choice of setting.” He stood and stepped toward her, holding out a hand. “Better to be inside and mostly warm than outside and worry about our hats blowing away.” She set her hand in his and let him lead her to the blanket. An assortment of cheeses and crackers and a bottle of wine lay in the middle. Dark eyes looked deep into hers. “I admire how you look on the good side.” Keep this light, Lacy. Still holding his hand, she lowered herself to the blanket, wincing at the twinges running through her thighs. “How can you say that after listening to me always bitching about my problems?” He uncorked the bottle and poured a splash of red wine into a glass before answering. “I know because I’ve listened.” 60

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She watched as all his attention went into the actions of holding up the glass to catch the light, then swirling the glass below his nose before he took a sip. He closed his eyes for a moment before swallowing. The routine was like a wine connoisseur and how she’d seen Lance act many times. But this was Clint. The guy who liked his coffee so black it was almost scorched, who won the chili cook-off at the county fair the summer he was fourteen, and who always had a strip of beef jerky sticking out of his shirt pocket. Her glance took in the relaxed man lounging across the blanket, wine glass extended in her direction. Not a bit of jerky in sight. So maybe he’d changed. A gust of wind rattled the loft door followed by a loud pattering of rain overhead. Before she brought the glass to her lips, she lifted it in a salute. “Here’s to you being a good judge of the weather.” He lifted his glass, too. “Like you said we’re inside and dry. Let’s enjoy that.” Over the next hour, they lounged in the hayloft and reminisced about events they’d experienced while growing up in their small Texas town. Fourth of July parades, raising livestock for 4-H, Halloween festivals. The cheese and crackers disappeared, along with most of the wine. Steady rain fell on the roof and made splashing sounds outside the barn. *

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about that. She laughed at something, throwing back her head, eyes lit with delight. The throaty sound of her pleasure kicked up his arousal another notch. He’d been aching for her since he realized they were trapped here. Hell, today’s circumstances didn’t matter— he’d been on fire for her for about as long as he could remember. He held up the bottle, squinting to check the level in the dim afternoon light. Not much left. “Enough for another swallow or two each.” Lacy set down her glass and fanned her face with her hands. “No more for me. Alcohol makes me hot.” What a statement. Because he didn’t trust what his look would give away, he watched the last couple of ounces dribble into his glass and savored them. “Hate to waste a quality vintage.” The hay rustled. Lacy plopped down on her stomach, the side of her thigh pressing against his groin. “Has the rain marooned us here?” Hiding a wince at the contact, he gazed down at her flushed face. The idea of keeping her at his side with no distractions was an attractive one. Then his gaze dipped lower and he saw she’d removed her outer shirt and wore a top that clung to her curves. To firm breasts begging to be touched. He rolled to his back to set the glass behind him and shifted his hips to make some space. As unobtrusively as 62

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possible, he tugged the shirttail from his jeans. No need to scare her away with proof of his aroused state. But she scooted across the blanket and rested her forearms on his chest, a finger playing with the hair at his throat. “You know what I’ve always wondered…” The realization hit hard. She’d made the first move. His heart rate sped and he raised a leg to shield the bulge in his jeans. His hand cupped her shoulder and a thumb rubbed circles there. “Tell me.”

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CHAPTER 6 “About romps in the hay.” He snorted out a surprised laugh. True to her style, the woman did speak her mind. “And what did you wonder?” If possible, his cock grew harder. “Are they as special as what I’ve read?” “There’s reading material on this subject?” “Oh, you.” She playfully shoved at his chest and then kept her hand there, molding it over his muscles. “In romance novels or in Cosmo quizzes about spicing up your sex life.” She laid her cheek on his chest and smiled. “I can hear your heartbeat. Wow, it’s going fast.” He definitely approved of where this conversation seemed 64

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headed. A suspicion surfaced. Was her behavior because of too much wine? He studied her face, but her eyes were clear and her words weren’t slurred. “And you said this weekend is about my relaxation.” Her hand dropped to his waist and trailed along his beltline. Stomach muscles clenched where she touched. “I did but—” He agreed with her about the air temperature suddenly rising. A blast furnace erupted in his groin, sending heat waves up his chest and down his legs. Arousal dug in with needle-sharp claws. “You also said something about consenting adults.” In a lithe move, she pushed up to her knees and reached for his belt, expert fingers quickly unfastening the buckle. “If you don’t want this, then stop me.” She paused and raised her gaze to meet his, her blue eyes fiery with arousal. Hot damn! His mouth went dry. He’d waited ten years to see that look in her eyes. “Because I want you, Clint Merrick.” She popped loose the rivet of his waistband. “I want your hard cock deep in my mouth.” She pulled down the zipper and reached her hand inside to cup his erection. “I want to give you the pleasure you denied yourself last night.” Unable to stop the instinctual move, he flexed his hips and pressed his hardened length into her warm hand. A groan of satisfaction rumbled from low in his throat. Her eyes rounded and she gasped. Then her gaze moved down his body to what she held, her fingers flexing slowly. “Wow. I definitely want this.” 65

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Her words shouldn’t shoot pride through his body, but they did. He knew he was built big, and had often wondered about her small size. The sampling he’d gotten of her body last night wasn’t a true indication of how they might fit. No worries, though…they’d find a way. She released him and scooted her hands to the sides of his boxers and tugged. “Off with the jeans, cowboy. I want to see you.” At the pull on his erection, he winced. “Easy. I’ll do it.” He lifted the elastic band over his cock, feeling it spring upright, then raised his hips and shoved his jeans down his thighs. The sensation of being on display was intimidating and arousing at the same time. Scooting next to his hips, Lacy reached out her hands and stroked them in succession from the base to the head. Her gentle touch surrounded his cock, her warmth maintaining steady contact on his aroused flesh. Tingles raced across his skin like summer lightning on the high prairie. Needing the intimate contact, he reached out his left hand and ran it along the curve of her back. Her blonde head lowered, her face hidden by a curtain of hair, until her warm lips kissed the tip of his cock. At the first touch, he jerked and then closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations her touch evoked. Her lips widened and enveloped more of his flesh, her tongue flickering under the ridge and along his shaft. Needing to touch skin, he grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling it free from her jeans, then running his hands over her 66

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soft skin. The sigh she exhaled forced puffs of air over his cock. “Oh, yeah.” The rush of his heartbeat pounded in his ears and tension built through his body. A hand encircled his shaft at the base and stroked while her hot mouth worked the head. Her tongue swirled and lapped before swallowing the tip again. He could barely keep from thrusting into the hot cavern of her mouth. Much more of her sweet torture and he’d explode. Then she bobbed her head, taking him deeper with short, hard strokes until the back of her throat brushed the tip. Too much. His eyes shot open and his breath hitched in his throat. He pressed a hand against her shoulder. “I’m close, Lacy. Move away.” For a second, she looked up and met his gaze, then gave him a slow wink. The sight of her pink lips stretched around his shaft clicked something elemental in his chest. He wanted to pound his fists on his chest and shout, “She’s mine.” Even more, he wanted to rip off her jeans and bury himself so deep inside they wouldn’t know where his body started or hers ended. A hand moved between his thighs and closed around his balls, a thumb rubbing over the sac. “Lacy…off…now.” He barely strangled out the words. As she eased her mouth up his cock, she shook her head and, with a vigorous pull, sucked him back inside. That move sent him over the edge. He flexed his hips, rocking with shallow thrusts against the tight circle of her 67

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mouth. His hands cradled her head, and his fingers slid through her silky hair, then he was lost. His cock pulsed out his release, her moving tongue milking the underside of his shaft as she swallowed. With lazy swirls, she licked her way off the end of his erection and kissed the tip. Her lips pressed gentle kisses up his belly. When she reached the ticklish spot on his hipbone, he grabbed the hem of her top and stripped it off her body. Next he did away with her bra. Crunching his stomach muscles, he lifted his shoulders enough to yank his shirt over his head and then hauled her up onto his chest. Finally, skin on skin. His hands roamed her back and ribs, thumbs caressing the sides of her plump breasts. Wide blue eyes looked into his, then her gaze dropped to his mouth. She wiggled an arm free and wrapped it around his neck. Yeah, baby. That’s what’s next. He eased one arm around her back and used the other hand to cup her head. Then his mouth claimed hers—tongue sweeping across her lips until she opened and then dipping inside to taste the musk of his cum mixed with the tang of the wine. Her tongue dueled with his and ran along his lower lip. Mostly, he tasted his sweet Lacy and relished the excitement this kiss created. When he needed air, he moved to her jaw and her neck, tasting every inch of skin he could reach. He released her head, trailing his hand along her neck and down her chest to massage a breast. Her deep sigh tickled his ear, her hands running over his 68

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skin. Rolling them to one side, he nibbled on her ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth. His fingers circled on her breast until he reached the hardened tip of her nipple. “Yes.” She arched into his hand. A faraway rumble outside grew closer. “Ah, thunder,” she whispered. “The perfect accompaniment.” Too rhythmic for thunder. His hand stilled and he lifted his head, straining to judge the time by how much sunlight remained. The restrained purr of a well-tuned truck engine stopped at the back of the cabin. He rolled away from her body, pulling his arm from under her body and grabbing at his jeans. “Well, darlin’, if you don’t want Ramon getting another peek, you’d better get dressed.” “What are you talking about?” She propped herself on her elbows. He stood and winced, aware no polite way to do what had to be done existed. One look at her and he was almost willing to forget his friend’s arrival. Her pink nipples were still tight and pointed in his direction, as if calling him back. “That rumble was his truck.” A horn honked with three short blasts. “No!” She scrambled across the blanket toward her clothes. He turned his back and reached into his boxers to arrange his semi-erect cock into a comfortable position before zipping the fly and shoving the belt through the buckle. “Toss me my 69

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shirt.” Something soft hit him in the face. “Is this a schedule? Does he arrive every day at the same time?” She balanced on one foot and stepped into a boot, while tucking in her shirt. Should he be honest and tell her the reason for Ramon’s appearance? The barn door rattled. “Hey, amigo, you in here?” Their gazes met. His he knew was apologetic, but hers narrowed into a slit. “Yeah, Ramon, I’m here.” “Where? Why the fuck are you here in the dark?” With a mouthed apology to Lacy, he tossed his shirt over his shoulder and started down the ladder. “I’m not alone so watch your tongue.” “Oh, I see.” A masculine chuckle sounded. “Can I light a lantern or should I go wait in the truck?” Rustling sounded from the loft. Clint reached the barn floor and turned, slipping his arms into his shirt as he approached his college friend. “Hey, do me a favor and unload the stuff into the kitchen. The door’s unlocked.” A grin splitting his mouth, Ramon reached up a hand and picked hay from his hair. “Sure thing.” He turned, glanced up at the loft and then sauntered out, whistling. The door slammed. After the first few notes, Clint recognized the tune as “Here Comes the Bride.” Smart ass. “Okay, Lacy, you can come down.” He leaned over and rubbed fingers through his 70

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hair, then looked around for his hat. Footsteps stomped on the hard-packed ground. “What’s going on?” When he turned he saw her in the disappearing light, hands on hips—a woman intent on getting answers. “Today is not going like I planned. I wanted tonight to be special—with candles, soft music and a gourmet dinner. I was even going to wear a suit.” Her hands dropped to her sides and she stepped close. “That does sound nice. How does this involve your friend?” Confession time. No way could he hide the evidence now. “He’s delivering dinner.” “You had him cook for us?” She paced a few feet away and then returned, closer this time. “No. He picked it up at the airport. I had it flown in from a restaurant in Albuquerque.” “Really? Which one?” She hooked a finger in his belt loop and looked up. “I took a series of southwestern cuisine courses there a couple years ago.” Now the whole truth would come out. He felt lower than dirt. “Actually, Ramon handled the ordering, too. It’s a woman’s name.” A smile bloomed. “Sadie’s? Jennifer James?” “The second one sounds right.” “Great.” Lacy spun and headed toward the door. “I love her dishes.” Clint grabbed his jacket and threw it on. “Hey, put this on.” He jogged to catch up. 71

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She paused only long enough to jam her arms into the coat he held out. “Wait.” He grabbed the front of her jacket and drew her to his chest, capturing her mouth for a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead to hers. He could get accustomed to this. Fast. “Couldn’t wait any longer.” He tossed an arm over her shoulders and moved them through the door together, pausing as the cold air hit, and then stepped away from the barn. At the first squishing sound, he bent his knees and hauled her into the cradle of his arms. Her arm came around his neck and she laughed. “What is it with you? Got a Tarzan complex?” He inhaled the scent of warm female skin, horses and hay. “What can I say? I like holding you.” The security light from the cabin flooded the muddy yard. She stilled, her hand playing with the hair behind his ear. “That’s sweet, Clint.” The back door opened and Ramon stepped onto the back porch, holding the door ajar. No getting around this. She was going to have to face his friend. He rested a foot on the first step and settled her on his thigh. “Ramon, this is Lacy Durant. She owns the restaurant I’ve told you about in Soledad. Lacy, this is my buddy, Ramon Montemayor. He was the first person I met at Texas A&M, and we’ve been friends ever since.” “Ah, Ramon, we meet in person.” Head held high, she stuck out her hand and accepted his handshake. “I understand you’ve just delivered our dinner. Will you stay and share it 72

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with us?” Ramon’s gaze cut to Clint before he lifted his hat. “The pleasure is mine, ma’am. Thanks for the offer, but I’d only be an intruder. ’Evening, Clint.” He walked down the steps. “’Night, Ramon. Thanks again.” She waved over his shoulder. “Thank you for helping this weekend.” Behind him the truck engine rumbled to life and tires sloshed through the mud. He lowered Lacy to her feet on the porch in front of the bootjack. “Take off your boots here. I’ll clean them later.” His hands framed her hips and he steadied her while she followed his instructions, then urged her toward the door. “Get inside where it’s warmer.” “Nope.” She moved behind him and mimicked his actions, her small hands pressing on his hips. When he stood on the porch in stocking feet, she pushed from behind and they walked into the cabin. Warm air caressed his face. “Oh, that feels good.” She pushed past him and walked straight to the insulated bag on the counter. “I’m dying to see what Ramon brought.” As she pulled out containers and cartons, she read aloud, “Butternut squash soup, grilled quail, endive and radicchio salad, pomegranate date chutney. Sounds delicious.” She turned and pointed a finger. “This is definitely a dress-up meal. But I know I didn’t see anything like that in my suitcase.” “Look in the bag hanging in the closet.” She gasped. “A new dress? Oh, Clint, you shouldn’t have.” 73

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Long strides took her across the room. “I’ll only be five minutes in the shower.” He watched the glide of her curves as she moved, his cock stirring to life. “We could share one and be faster.” A hand on the door frame, she looked over her shoulder, a sassy grin on her mouth. “That would not be time-efficient. Besides, I’m not letting this food go to waste.” Her fingers fluttered in a wave and then she disappeared. Warmth settled into his chest at the ease of their conversation. A relationship was building between them. He shoved off the counter and gathered what things he had to make the dinner table special. By the time he was done, he heard the water stop running. The memory of finding Lacy in the tub flashed in his mind—the feel of her curves, the way her petals blossomed under his fingers. He took the stairs two at a time. If he had any hope of getting through the dinner, his shower would need to be stone cold. *

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Lacy turned from side to side in front of the mirror, feeling the silky teal skirt swish around her legs with each twist. Karli always knew the best colors to highlight her eyes and skin. She leaned forward to see if the plunging neckline revealed too much of her unbound breasts, then she straightened. What did that matter? The meal was just an enjoyable pause before the obvious culmination of the evening—making love with Clint. 74

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This time, she’d insist on a real bed. With a last fluff of her wavy hair, she left the bedroom, anticipating the first sight of a spiffed-up Clint Merrick. From the top of the stairs, she spotted the table he’d arranged in front of the living room window. Tablecloth, china, crystal, and a single rose lay across one plate. A lump rose in her throat. He was definitely wooing her, but she didn’t want to fall for a cowboy. At that moment, Clint walked from the kitchen, carrying two bowls and carefully set them on the plates. He crossed to a sound system and punched a button. Muted guitar strings filled the air. He was more than she’d ever expected. The dark navy suit fit his frame perfectly. His hair was slicked back and still damp from his shower. He looked better than that steamy doctor on her favorite TV show. Still admiring the figure he cut, she walked downstairs, hesitant to face this new persona of the old Clint. But the minute he turned and smiled, her concerns fled. His steady gaze was the same as always. “Hey, beautiful.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Dress looks great.” A gentle hand at her lower back guided her to the table. She picked up the rose, sniffed its sweetness and then smiled. “Thanks for this. Everything looks wonderful.” “I’ll be right back with the wine.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss on her shoulder, his fingers running across her nape. 75

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She shivered and her nipples beaded against the fabric of the dress. A sigh escaped. A woman could get used to this pampering thing. But this was a fantasy—only a weekend’s respite from the challenges of her real life. A pop sounded from the kitchen. Clint reentered the room with the opened bottle and reached from behind to pour into her glass. His chest leaned against her shoulder, and his spicy cologne surrounded her. A scent that was familiar, but she couldn’t name. “This is a fruity zinfandel that should complement the main dish.” He set the bottle in the middle of the table and then sat. “I hope you like it.” “Clint, I like everything about this weekend.” Especially the surprises she’d learned about him. Her gaze roved his handsome face and she felt a tug in her chest. No, she could not be falling for this guy. “You were right about me needing this.” The soup disappeared quickly, and they started on the main course. When Clint refilled their glasses, she glanced at the bottle and spotted a familiar graphic on the label. She pointed her fork at the bottle. “I recognize the grapes, the mountain and the sun from the bottle we drank at lunch. Is that a favorite winery?” He nodded and then sat back in his chair, his glass held loosely in his hands. “Tell me what you thought about the wine.” Odd response. She lifted her glass and took another sip, letting the tangy liquid glide down her throat. “I like the hint 76

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of citrus. But there’s another flavor I couldn’t identify.” “Probably the clove.” “You can determine that just from tasting it? You must’ve had lots of practice.” Was clove the primary element of his cologne she hadn’t been able to pinpoint? His dark gaze dropped to the table, his brows wrinkled together. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and met her gaze again. “Nope. I suggested the addition to this vintage.” “Suggested? So, you know the vineyard owners?” He shook his head, a lopsided grin creasing his cheek. “I’m one of the four.” He lifted the bottle and extended it to her. “See, MRAC. College buddies with a wild idea and a helluva lot of luck.” Again, the man had stunned her almost speechless. She sat back in her chair. “You own a winery?” “Part-owner of a fledging business.” He sipped and savored the wine. “But we’re ahead of our five-year projections.” “Why haven’t you said anything before this?” “Because one bad season could’ve knocked us out of the game.” He shrugged and busied himself with forking up another bite. “Why bore anyone with details about a failing business?” In that one nervous gesture, she saw a glimmer of the uncertain teen he’d been. A bit ashamed of his family’s struggling ranch, the meager wardrobe he’d worn with casual indifference, the farm truck he’d washed and waxed every 77

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week. The man had no idea of how much he’d accomplished. Her heart melted and she stood, hand held out. “Dance with me?”

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CHAPTER 7 Silverware clattered on china and he rose, coming around the table to enfold her in his arms. “Always.” She smiled against the smooth fabric of his jacket. He did say the sweetest things. One hand wrapped around his neck and the other slid inside his jacket, caressing the silk of his shirt. His body radiated heat. “Aren’t you too warm?” “Getting there.” He stepped back and removed his jacket, and his hands paused at his burgundy tie. “My neck’s heating up. Do you mind?” “Remember, the weekend is about relaxation. But I do appreciate the effort that went into this special meal.” After tossing the tie over the jacket, he undid the top two 79

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shirt buttons. “Ah, freedom.” Flashing a wide smile, he held his arms wide. As if this were the most natural act, she moved into his embrace and snuggled close. How long they swayed to the music she didn’t know. With eyes closed, she enjoyed the slow caress of his hands moving over her body, reciprocating with strokes along his back and sides. Arousal spiraled low in her belly and she rubbed her breasts across his chest. His hand lowered to her ass and squeezed, then his finger ran over the globe until he found the strip of her thong. “Oh, darlin’, I’ve got to see this.” His fingers started inching the skirt fabric upwards. With a shake of her head, she stepped back, enjoying the heated gaze he flicked between her eyes and her abdomen. “Nothing is happening anywhere near another window in this cabin. This time I want to enjoy you in a bed.” “Fair enough.” He leaned over to blow out the candles, grabbed her hand, and headed for the stairs. “Realize this is not how my bedroom always looks.” Clint with a messy room? That seemed unlikely. She kicked off her heels and trotted behind him, heat rising in her blood. At his bedroom door, he turned. “Give me a minute.” Then he opened the door and disappeared inside. What could he be doing? Curiosity set her thoughts racing, anticipation kicking up her desire. The door edged open. “Close your eyes and walk straight forward.” 80

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Lacy followed Clint’s instructions, her hand running along the doorframe as a guide. Warm hands covered her eyes and his hard body aligned behind hers, an impressive ridge bumping her ass. “Two more steps, then stop.” His words tickled along her neck. Then he removed his hands and rested them on her shoulders. “Open.” She blinked and gazed around at a room lit by candlelight and a faint glow of moonlight shining through the window. A canopy bed draped with fabric occupied the middle of the floor space. Under the window was a stack of fluffy, square pillows. A wisp of smoke rose from an incense stick and the scent of sandalwood permeated the air. The quiet blare of a horn from a slow jazzy song reached her ears. “It’s wonderful.” A room designed to evoke the senses. All she needed was right behind her. For the past twentyfour hours, Clint had invaded her senses and kept them inflamed. As she reached back and ran her hands along his thighs, her fingers encountered bristly hair over hard muscles. Naked? She licked her tongue over dry lips and turned to see him wearing only an unbuttoned shirt and boxers. Undeniably, this was another sexy look for the man. “I got a head start. Come here and let me help you with your clothes.” “No need.” She lowered the side zipper and dipped her shoulders in succession, allowing the dress to slip down her body. The fabric inching over the curve of her breasts and 81

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gliding as it traced her curves caused a shiver. His gaze followed the dress’s descent and then he stepped close, resting his hands on her hips. “Your body in that dress is a case of foreplay walking.” His thumbs ran along her pelvic bones. She gasped and grabbed his forearms for balance, her heart beating wildly. Drops of her cream seeped along her aroused labia. “Seeing you in only a thong is”—he swallowed hard— “something else.” His gaze flared and he lowered his mouth to her shoulder, taking nibbling bites up to her neck. She leaned her head to the side and moved a hand to cup his erection through the thin cotton, rubbing her hand along its length. He was rock hard and she was aching to feel him. All of him. Inside, deep and hard. This time would be fast. He raised his head and ran his tongue up to her ear. “Turn around so I can enjoy the rear view, darlin’. Just once and I can die a happy man.” In this moment, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. She released her hold and turned slowly, loving the drag of his fingers on her hips. One hand skimmed up her stomach and cradled a breast, the other caressed her ass, a thumb outlining the thong’s edge and dipping into her crevice. Not yet. She arched and walked out of his reach. Remembering the steps she’d practiced, she lifted her arms over her head and snapped her fingers to create a rhythm. 82

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While taking miniscule steps toward him, she rotated her hips in a figure eight. Pausing, she undulated her belly and shimmied her shoulders. Clint leaned a shoulder against the bed post, his gaze alternating between her swaying hips and jiggling breasts. When she drew close, she brought her hands out to her sides, palms up, and arched backward, rocking her shoulders as she bent. “Dynamite dance.” A slow clapping sounded right before strong arms scooped her up and tossed her on the mattress. “Hey!” She propped herself up on her elbows. Clint ripped off his shirt and shoved off his boxers. “Babe, you’re the one who stoked this fire.” He ran a hand down his shaft and flexed his hips. The sight of his fingers pressed around his own cock made her pussy wet with her cream, readying her body to accept his girth. “Ooh, do that again.” “Only for you.” He thrust into his fist, walked a step closer, and repeated his action. When his thighs rested against the mattress, he circled his hands around her knees and eased her toward the edge. With deliberation, he reached for her remaining scrap of clothing and pulled off her thong, but left her legs draped over his forearms. His head dipped. A hot tongue ran the length of her labia, circled her clit and wiggled along her slit. Delicious, but she was too close. Head thrashing on the mattress, her arms stretched to reach him. “Clint, I want you inside.” 83

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The rip of foil sounded and a moment later, his girth pressed at her opening. Off balance as she was, she couldn’t touch him, but had to grab fistfuls of sheets to anchor herself during his long, gliding thrusts. Moves that stretched her vaginal walls, filling her fuller than she’d ever been. Almost to the point of pain. She arched and moaned. Clint eased back and circled his hips, then moved her legs to his waist and planted his hands at her shoulders. “Is that better?” His words were spoken on huffs of breath. “I can touch you now.” She ran her hands up the corded muscles of his biceps and stretched to plant an open-mouth kiss on his forearm. Her thighs clenched to let her clit slide against his cock. “Oh, that’s so good.” His thrusts shortened and a hand grabbed her hip, holding her in place as he stroked into her channel. “Look at me, Lacy.” Sensations pounded her awareness—her blood raced, her heart pumped and her skin tingled. She turned her head and opened her eyes to meet his burning gaze. “Let loose.” His next stroke eased the head of his cock almost to her opening before sliding back deep inside. “Come for me.” As if obeying his command, her body responded. “Ahh, oh, Clint!” Tingles along her pussy exploded into pulses as her muscles contracted in orgasm, pulling him deeper. He moved inside her with increasing strokes, and then held still, his head thrown back. 84

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With her last bit of energy, Lacy flexed her pussy around his cock, trying to prolong his climax. He fell forward and then rolled them to one side, an arm drawing her close. His lips feathered kisses over her forehead. Contentment flowed through her as their rapid breaths mingled and slowed, almost as if they calmed each other. A finger rubbed the base of her spine in lazy circles. “That dance you did…” A smile bloomed on her lips. “You liked it?” “Uh-huh. It stays private.” That possessive tone again. But arguing would take more energy than she possessed. Lacy ran her fingers through Clint’s damp hair, her arm heavy. “Are you relaxed?” His voice rumbled near her ear. “So much I can barely move.” “Enjoying yourself? Like I promised, right?” Why did this sound like he was aiming to get serious? “Yep.” She forced herself up onto an elbow and ran her hand over his stomach, heading toward that ticklish spot near his hip. His hand trapped hers and held tight. “So thoughts of Soledad and the café are far behind?” Another warning went off in her head. “Mostly.” She kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue along his collarbone, enjoying his slightly salty taste. “I’ve only have a couple thoughts all day.” “Good. I’m glad for you, darlin’.” A word he was using with more frequency. But she wanted 85

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to hold onto the fantasy that this weekend was all about her— just for a few more hours. She wiggled her hips and clenched her pussy. “So, has the old man recovered?” With a roar, he rose on his elbows, trapping her body under his. “Who you calling old?” She giggled and ran her finger down his chest. “I heard them teasing you at Hank’s last week.” “Bar talk, nothing more.” With a slow move, he rolled his hips. Even mostly relaxed he filled her. “Well, I’ve always wondered…” His forehead dropped to lean against hers. “A curious woman could be my undoing.” Actually her fantasy involved the exact opposite. But how to word her request? Something he’d said the other day seemed appropriate here. “Clint, do you trust me?” Dark eyes held hers. “With my heart, Lacy.” “Then lie on your back and let me do all the touching.” His gaze narrowed. “Am I going to enjoy this?” “I guarantee my words. And I’ll need at least one more condom.” He pressed her flat on the mattress with a long, searching kiss, his tongue stroking excitement everywhere he touched. Then she felt his hand squeeze between their bodies. He rolled away and sauntered into the connecting bathroom. As soon as he was out of the room, she stood and inspected how he’d wrapped the gauzy fabric to the canopy. A few 86

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twists and some unraveling, and she’d unloosened a length at least three yards long, and quickly stuffed it under a pillow. Better not give him a clue beforehand. “Do you want some water?” He came back into the room carrying a plastic bottle and a handful of foil packages that he tossed on the nightstand. Warm candlelight flickered off his body, showing shadows of his rippled muscles. The perfect image of a pagan god. “Sure.” She accepted the bottle and swallowed a few sips, then set it where she could reach it later. “Now, lie down in the middle.” Shooting her a cocky grin, he complied and laced his hands behind his head. “Close your eyes, Clint.” When he did, she knelt on the mattress and brushed kisses on his stomach, while grabbing the gauze from under the pillow. Her tongue circled and then flicked over his flat nipple, enjoying the pebbling sensation under her lips. He groaned and moved, his arms scraping along the pillow. “Uh-uh.” She caressed his arm, pressing it up by his head, and then sat up and quickly tied his left wrist to the bed rail. *

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“Hey.” At the tug against his wrist, he arched and pulled. “Clint, you agreed.” With a gentle touch, his other hand traced down her back. “Sorry, babe. You caught me by surprise.” 87

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“That was the point.” She leaned over, rubbed her breasts on his chest and outlined his lips with her tongue. “This won’t hurt, I promise.” His hand cupped the back of her head and held her in place. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and stroked along the sides. “Okay, tie the other one.” He stretched out his arm, but watched what she did. Damn, if she wasn’t full of surprises. The fabric tightened on his wrist and she looped it around the post, leaning close enough for him to run his tongue along the side of her breasts. “I do all the touching, remember.” “Sorry. The temptation was too much.” The anticipation already had blood pulsing to his cock. “I’ll be good.” The first touch of her hot mouth on his inner thigh had his gut twisting with desire. All he had to do was think of his first sight of her naked body and he got hard. By breathing slowly, he tried to control his reaction, but her hands were everywhere—on his thighs, between his legs, up and down his cock. When she sucked along the side of his erection, his head came off the pillow. Maybe without his actions of exciting her, he was feeling every sensation with more depth. Or because he was finally seeing hope in their situation—that they would hold onto some of this weekend when they returned to Texas. Her fingers grasped the base of his shaft and pumped him. He had to thrust in rhythm. “Can’t stop…natural instinct.” A finger circled the tip, dipping into the eye for the drop of pearly pre-cum, and rubbing it slowly around the rounded 88

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head. A groan rasped. In the next moment, her mouth closed over him, taking him deep. A gentle hand rolled his balls and gave them a squeeze, her finger pressing the ridge at the base of the sac. Tension clutched his groin, and he squirmed. “More, harder.” Her mouth sucked harder and an exploratory fingernail circled his anus, ran along his ass and then returned, pressing a bit inside. Fire racing through his blood, he arched and then stilled, mentally running through a pre-flight checklist. Anything to prolong the sensations she created. Not this time. “Get the condom. I want to be in you.” With a long sucking motion, she released his cock and then reached over his head to the nightstand. A tight nipple grazed a path over his chest and along his inner bicep. A shudder ran through his entire body. The woman was a wanton. And he loved every second of her behavior. He blew a hot breath against her nipple. “No, no, no.” He chuckled at her fake outrage. “It’s not touching— technically. But I can’t guarantee what’ll happen if you don’t hurry.” The foil packet ripped. She peered at one side, then the other of the rolled circle, a finger tapping on her chin in indecision. “Lacy.” His body was as rigid as granite. He tried making his voice just as hard, but the word just sounded needy. 89

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“Patience, Clint.” Leaning close, she lapped at the tip until it shone before she positioned the condom. With gripping strokes, she covered him with protection. When she was done, he huffed out a breath and then waited for her warmth. His hands twisted and he wished for the chance to touch the gorgeous body within his sight. Lying her breasts against his cock, Lacy ran her hands over his chest, caressing his nipples. “I love your collarbone.” She traced its ridge. “The bulge of your muscles.” Shots of pleasure running through his erection, his jaw clenched with each touch. “Love my cock, Lacy. I’m about to burst.” With her hands next to his ribs, she straddled his groin and poised her pussy on the tip of his erection. “Ready, Clint?” With a growl, he tightened his ass and pressed into her hot channel. “You’re a tease.” “Am not. A tease wouldn’t do this.” In a smooth slide, she lowered herself onto his shaft. “Ahh.” Her eyes widened, then she rocked with a slow rhythm, pulling her legs close to his side, then pushing them apart. As if in a dance, he circled and countered her moves, his thighs quivering with the restraint of his limits. His gaze took in her blissful expression, the jiggle of her breasts, the flex of her thighs. A leg lifted and she planted her foot flat on the mattress, bringing him deeper inside. So deep, he swore he touched her womb. He was surrounded by her heat—from her walls flexed around his 90

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cock, from her legs along his sides, from her presence in his bed. When she reached up and clasped his bound hands so she could thrust faster, the connection was total. And he came, calling her name. The explosion was hard and long. Her body slumped against his, a breast near his mouth. Unable to resist, he sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth and laved it. Aftershocks jolted through his legs, and his arms ached. When he had enough breath to talk, he coaxed, “Untie me, love. I need to hold you.”

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CHAPTER 8 Awareness of chilled skin on his shoulder made him pull up the quilt. Something tickled his nose and he brushed it away, getting a handful of gauze. The antics of the night came back to him and he grinned. The woman next to him was just full of surprises. He splayed a hand over her hip and eased against her, scooting to align their bodies. She snuggled backward and sighed. The fit was comfortable and he enjoyed the smell of her hair and her weight against his chest. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep again. Prying open one eye, he spotted the muted light of early morning filtering into the room. Their last day together in this idyll. He vowed to make it 92

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memorable. With slow moves, he scooted to the side of the bed and eased out. After a brief shower, he checked and she was still sleeping, so he grabbed some clothes and headed to the kitchen. The best pampering was breakfast in bed, but how could he do that differently to pay her back for the surprises she’d sprung this weekend? Twenty minutes later, he was putting the finishing touches on omelets when the business phone line rang. On a Sunday? Thankfully, the only phone was downstairs, so Lacy wouldn’t be disturbed. He poured coffee into two mugs, but kept an ear cocked for a message. “Clint, pick up. It’s important.” Ramon? What could he want? “I know your cell phone is off for a reason.” Got that right, buddy. He rinsed a handful of strawberries. A damn good reason that was still warm in his bed. “Shit. I guess I’ll have to drive over, but I got a call from Lacy’s sister—” At Ramon’s curse, Clint started across the room and grabbed up the handset. “What’s wrong?” He turned, his gaze going immediately toward his bedroom, as if he could communicate with her. “Yeah, I understand. No, that won’t work. Okay, see you in twenty.” He clicked off the handset and headed upstairs, the food forgotten. With a hand on her back, he jostled her. “Darlin’, wake up.” A groan sounded and she pulled the pillow over her head. 93

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“Go away.” Grumpy in the morning? This Lacy he’d never seen. He sat beside her and shook her harder. “Lacy, wake up. She slipped her shoulder from under his hand and burrowed toward the middle of the bed. “Another fifteen minutes.” His mind raced with what tasks lay ahead. Fighting with her was just wasting time. He stood and yanked the covers off her body. “Lacy Durant, wake up. If you don’t want Ramon to get another eyeful, you’ll sit up and listen.” “Clint, why are…” She sat up and wrapped her arms about her bent knees, pushing her hair away from her face. Her sleepy gaze widened as she looked him up and down. “What the hell are you wearing?” He glanced down at the surprise he’d intended to spring on her—breakfast served by a waiter wearing only chaps. Now he just felt foolish. “Forget this. Ramon called with a message from Karli. Your mom is in the hospital.” “What? Karli knows Ramon? I don’t understand.” Obviously he was dealing with someone who took time to wake up. “Come here.” He sat and wrapped her in his arms, a hand stroking her hair. “Just listen. Your mom was taken by ambulance from the house. She called Karli because she had a pain in her torso and her vision went blurry.” “Ohmigod, her heart.” Her eyes widened and a hand rose to her mouth. “Is she okay? Oh, I should’ve been there.” She pushed against his hold. At her plaintive words, a lump lodged in his chest, but he 94

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held her firm. “Shh, you couldn’t have done anything. She got prompt care.” “In Soledad?” She shoved at his arms. “There’s no such thing. Let me go.” He released her and leaned back, feeling a loss of warmth that was more than body heat. With a hand running through her hair, she paced the floor. “I’ve got to get back there.” “Of course.” He went to his closet, aware of the leather chafing his thigh and started working the buckles open. “Ramon is on his way and he has more details.” He watched her work off another few seconds of nervous energy. “Lacy, go get dressed.” She walked three more steps, then stopped and looked up. “But why did Karli call Ramon?” “Put on some clothes and I’ll explain.” He reached for a tshirt and pulled it over his head. When he looked around, she’d left. He grabbed what he needed from the room and headed downstairs. Maybe he’d have three minutes to make his arrangements before Lacy could overhear. If this wasn’t going to work, he didn’t want to get her hopes up. He grabbed up the phone handset and punched in numbers. “Mark? Sorry about the early hour, buddy. Are you home? Great, because I need a big favor.” *

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marathon weekend! She yanked clothes off hangers and threw them into her suitcase. With one swipe, she cleared her makeup off the dresser and into her open purse. After a final look around the room, she headed downstairs. “That’s who I ask for?” Clint stood near the desk, his head bowed as he wrote on a pad. “And it’ll be ready? Okay, thanks. Yeah, you can either reach me or leave a message on my cell from this point on. I owe you, Mark.” She set her suitcase by the door. “I need my cell phone, Clint.” “Just a minute. I need to write this out.” Impatience ran through her body. This wasn’t right. She was supposed to deal with family issues. Karli was the younger sister. She walked across the room and stood at the end of the desk, waiting for him to finish. Clint shot her a dark glare, then ripped the page off the pad and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Your cell phone’s in my jacket in the closet.” “Okay, give it to me in the truck. I’m grabbing a piece of fruit for the ride.” “Uh, you’d better grab the phone yourself.” He turned back to the desk and opened the top drawer, shuffling through papers. The hair on the back of her neck prickled at his evasive tone. She counted to five as she walked into the kitchen for an apple. Once there, she saw the tray he’d obviously been in the middle of preparing when the news came. The omelets looked perfect. 96

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Outside, a familiar rumble came closer, then stopped. Footsteps sounded on the porch and the door opened. Ramon stuck in his head. “Hey, ready to—” At the same moment, Clint walked in from the living room. “Lacy, we need to—” A sick feeling settled in her stomach. She turned to face Clint and caught an eye exchange between the men. “Why is Ramon here?” Ramon closed the door and pointed to the living room. “I’ll wait in there.” Her gaze still on Clint, she waited, suspecting what was coming, but dreading what he might say. He stepped close, tucked her phone into her shirt pocket, then rested his wrists on her shoulders, fingers playing with the ends of her hair. “Lacy, darlin’, Ramon is driving you back to Soledad.” “What? No.” Dread stabbed her chest. She reached up a hand and grabbed his forearm. “You’ve got the plane. Why aren’t you flying me there? I need to get home fast.” “Sorry, darlin’, but I’ve got an errand that takes me in a different direction.” His thumb ran along her jaw. “Don’t.” Not wanting to acknowledge the concern she saw shadowing his gaze, she wrenched from under his loose hold. “I don’t want your sweet cowboy words. Bottom line is, I need you and you’re running the other way.” She crossed her arms to keep him from seeing her hands shake. “Ramon knows the back roads. He’ll get you there in three to three-and-a-half hours.” He dropped his head and stared at 97

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the floor for several seconds. When he met her gaze, a muscle in his jaw jerked. “I’m sorry. I need to do this.” He grasped her left hand and rolled it over, palm up. She resisted, but not with much energy. Truth was, she craved his touch. Instead of arguing, she wanted to be wrapped in his arms and have him tell her this wasn’t happening. He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her palm, then folded up her fingers and squeezed. Dark eyes watched her face, the skin at the edges of his sockets pinched. “That’s for your mama. For good luck.” To look at him hurt too much, and she closed her eyes, wrapping her fist around her arm. Warm lips pressed against her forehead. “See ya later.” His boot steps clomped across the floor before he talked with Ramon in a low voice. Fighting back tears, she leaned on the edge of the sink, dreading the moment he’d leave the cabin…because that action would change everything. Footsteps approached, but the rhythm was wrong. Clint was really gone. She pressed her lips together and turned, willing the burning at the back of her eyes to stop. Ramon stood near the back door with her suitcase in one hand and a jacket in the other. “Clint said you should wear this. Something about yours getting lost.” Absent, but still bossy. *

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Almost four hours later, Ramon pulled the truck into the entrance to Soledad Hospital. Finally. Nervous as a caged animal, Lacy pointed through the windshield. “Just let me out over there by the main entrance.” “Sure.” As the truck rolled next the curb, she gathered her purse and opened the door. A light touch on her arm stopped her. “I’ll park and be right in.” His gaze cut to her and then checked the rear view mirror. Anxious to see her mother, she glanced at the glass doors and back. “Why? That’s not necessary.” He shrugged. “I have time. What the patient’s name?” Hah, that’s more than Clint offered. “Helene Durant. I’m not sure if she’s been assigned to a room.” His gaze was direct. “I’ll find you.” She slid out and turned back. “I apologize for being a rotten traveling companion. Got lots on my mind.” “I understand.” Confused over his reasons for staying, she dashed into the hospital and was soon striding down the second floor hall to her mother’s room. “Lacy, there you are.” Karli rose from a plastic chair in the small waiting area, dropping a magazine into a nearby chair. Lacy dumped her purse and embraced her sister, then pulled her to a nearby couch. “Tell me what happened. Clint didn’t have details.” Karli gripped her hand and leaned to look down the 99

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hallway. “Where is he?” Irritation ran through her, tightening her already strained muscles. “I don’t know. All I know is he’s a cowboy through and through, and I shouldn’t have— Never mind. What does the doctor say?” “You know they never say much, except they’re running tests.” “But tests for what? Have they figured out what caused the dizziness and her chest pain?” “Chest? Her stomach hurt, and I thought it might be appendicitis.” This was exactly why she should have been here. Lacy fought to keep her voice even. “Don’t you remember Mama had her appendix removed when she was in high school?” “She did?” Her breath whooshed out and her eyes glistened. “I never remember that kind of stuff. I’m so glad you’re here.” She tilted her head to one side and her eyes rounded. What was with her sister? Couldn’t she concentrate on this conversation? “Did you ride in the ambulance? Maybe the EMTs said something important.” “See, you know the questions to ask.” Karli jerked her head and rolled her eyes. Lacy looked over her shoulder. “Hey, Ramon, this is my sister, Karli. Meet Ramon Montemayor. He’s a friend of Clint’s and drove me here.” “Pleasure, ma’am.” He moved to the farthest corner and picked up a sports magazine. “I’m the one you phoned this 100

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morning.” “Oh.” Karli stared and then turned back, her brows bunched over her nose. “Why is he in here?” “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Lacy shrugged. “When is the next visiting time?” “On the hour.” Karli rested her head on Lacy’s shoulder. “I’m beat. I barely slept last night.” Lacy thought of the quite different reason for her own lack of sleep, and guilt washed over her. “Of course you are. Go home and get some rest.” She stood and gathered Karli’s purse and coat. “Are you okay to drive?” Karli nodded and slowly rose to her feet. “My place is only three miles away. Call me if there’s any change. Oh, you have to go outside to use your cell. Hospital rules.” “Okay, thanks.” She hugged Karli, holding her a bit longer than usual. “Come back later, after you’ve eaten something decent and gotten some rest.” She assumed a stern expression and shook her finger. “I don’t want to see you for at least six hours.” Karli squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Lacy. I’m glad you’re back.” Arms wrapped around her stomach, Lacy watched Karli trudge down the hall to the elevator, fighting the sudden feeling of loneliness. Then she paced back to her chair and flopped down. She picked up a magazine only for something to occupy her hands. What raced through her mind was a single question—where was Clint? Why hadn’t he flown her back to Soledad? She’d 101

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gotten over her anger after the first hundred miles on the road, but her curiosity burned. The clock moved with impossibly slow ticks. At each squeak of shoes on the floor, she looked to see if a nurse or doctor was headed her way. Every time the elevator opened, she looked, hoping to see Clint. She couldn’t summon interest in the bright magazine pictures of new furnishings or easy recipes with only six ingredients. “Here.” A can of diet cola appeared in front of her. “Thought you might need a boost.” “Thanks, Ramon.” She managed a weak smile and accepted the can. At the sight of her open hand, she remembered the touch of Clint’s lips and his wish for her mom. That was a sweet thing and she hadn’t even said thank you. She ran a finger over her palm. “Looks like you need a replacement.” “Clint!” Heart racing, she jumped up and into his arms, relishing his solid body and strong embrace. His spicy scent enveloped her and she closed her eyes. “You’re here. I won’t even ask what you were doing.” His hands wrapped around her shoulders and he eased her away. “But you should ask. Time is important here. Lacy”— he eased his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the nurses’ station—“he’s the reason I had to leave.” Her gaze went from a tall blond man in slacks and a golf sweater flipping through a medical chart to Clint. “I don’t understand.” “Lacy, that’s Dr. Mark Westfall, a college friend, who 102

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agreed to review your mom’s case. He’s a great internist with a practice in El Paso.” Vaguely, she was aware of Ramon greeting the man with a bear hug and the two of them talking. Three college buddies, hmm. “You flew to El Paso to pick him up, didn’t you?” “Yeah.” His hand ran up and down her arm. “He told me he couldn’t treat her, but he might help with the diagnosis.” She grabbed a handful of his shirt. “So why not tell me where you were going?” A hand cupped her jaw. “I didn’t want to raise false hopes—in case something happened.” She leaned into his warmth, wishing they were alone. “Like the plane crashing?” “Hell, no.” He grabbed her close. “In case the hospital administrator didn’t grant Mark emergency clearance. Mark’s been on the phone at every opportunity, talking with those in authority who’d listen.” “I heard my name.” Lacy turned and looked into smiling gray eyes set in a pleasant face. “Thank you for coming, doctor.” “Mark, Lacy.” Clint waved a hand between them. “Lacy, Mark. What did you find out?” “Well, Lacy, by what I’ve read on the chart, she’s resting comfortably. The results aren’t back yet on a couple crucial tests, but maybe I can hurry them along.” “Mark, I told you I’d cover anything you need.” Clint grabbed out his wallet and flipped up the credit card sleeves. “Here, take this one.” 103

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“Yeah, about a dozen times. I’ll let the hospital take care of the financial matters.” A familiar image caught her eye and warmth burst in her chest. Tucked at the back of his wallet was the photo from their high school dance. Blinking rapidly, she ducked her head. “Mom has basic health coverage.” She pointed toward the chair with her purse. “I should have the information in my purse.” Clint’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “We’ll discuss this later.” A nurse approached. “Miss Durant, you can go in now. Here’s the paperwork you requested, Dr. Westfall.” “Good timing. Lacy, sign this form to allow me to accompany you.” Mark handed her a clipboard with a preprinted form and pointed out the signature line. The next few hours were a blur. Mark made his diagnosis of a gall bladder attack, more forms needed to be signed, Ramon retrieved Karli and brought her back to the hospital. Then the waiting began. Pizza was ordered and eaten, too much coffee drunk, and their only outlet was pacing the halls. Through it all, Clint was at her side, brushing away her tears and listening to her worries. Mostly, he just held her, running a gentle hand over her hair, crooning low words. She leaned on his quiet strength, and drew hope from his solid belief in his friend’s abilities. At some point in the long night, as she paced a circuit in the waiting room, she put the pieces together of something that had been niggling at her thoughts. “Who’s the A?” 104

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“I’m tired enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.” Clint stretched and leaned his hands on his knees. “An engineer named Anson Timwalt.” With a slow grin, he pulled her into his lap. “The acronym MRAC was the closest we could get to miracle. Because that’s what we needed to make a winery work.” “I like the name.” Her head settled on his shoulder and she ran her fingers across his chest. “Did I thank you for staying?” “I’m not going anywhere, Lacy. I’ve always been right here.” The man spoke the truth. Other phrases he’d always said took on new meaning—I’ll wait for you, with my heart, always. And that reality was more important than the clothes he wore or the work he did. Sure enough, in his slow cowboy way, he’d seduced her.

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LAYLA CHASE

Layla Chase writes contemporary stories as well as historicals and is published in short romantic fiction. Years spent in the business world prompted her to seek out her more creative side. There, she discovered all sorts of characters whose stories she needed to share. A native of California, she now lives in Texas with her husband and the youngest of her three children. *

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Don’t miss Love For Hire, by Layla Chase, available at AmberHeat.com!

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