She looked at him with all the anticipation of a woman getting ready to enjoy something tasty for supper. The smile lost its punch when she realized Gracie happened to be sitting beside her catch of the day. "Well, aren't you a sly one. I heard Trent had gone and got married. What a surprise."
Trent cleared his throat. "Gracie, this is Stella Lawton. Stella, Gracie."
Gracie stared at the woman making cow-eyes at her husband. So this was the mysterious Ms. Stella that she'd first heard about in Walmart. With the amount of eyelash fluttering going on, Gracie had a feeling Stella wasn't too worried about the marital status of the men she met.
Gracie might not have Stella's cleavage or the lashes to work with, but she did have the man. She leaned against Trent, draping her arm along the back of his chair. Her fingers rubbed the nape of his neck in slow, obvious circles.
"Why thank you, Stella. I can highly recommend married life. I've got a wonderful husband." Gracie tried to look adoringly at Trent, but the laughter lurking in his eyes told her she'd failed miserably.
Trent, however, wasn't slow off the mark. Without any extra encouragement, he leaned forward, plastering the hottest smooch on Gracie's lips she'd ever enjoyed in public. When she came up for air, Stella had disappeared, Jordan had a grin stuck across his face and Karen looked like the proudest mother-in-law Gracie had ever seen. Tracey sat with her mouth open, looking with a new found respect at Jordan's sister-in-law.
Gracie's skin felt like it was on fire, scorched from the inside by raging hormones running out of control. So much for being cool, calm and collected. Hot and steamy had nudged them out the door within seconds of locking lips with her husband.
"Time to dance."
Gracie reached for the hand Trent held out to her. One look in his eyes and she knew she wasn't the only one overheating. "Do you promise to be good?"
Trent drew her toward him, holding her close to his body. He leaned down and whispered, "Real good, honey."
Gracie groaned. This really wasn't going to plan. "I'm bringing rule two into play."
"What did you say? I'm developing a severe case of husband deafness."
"It means there's no touching allowed."
Trent pulled her into his arms. "We didn't make a rule that said dancing wasn't allowed."
As they circled the ballroom, Gracie tried really hard to focus on why snuggling with Trent had been banned. But as soon as a reason appeared in her brain, it disappeared in a puff of heat.
"I'm taking you home in half an hour," he said. "So make the most of the ball. After this, it's just you and me."
A fine tremor slipped through her body as she rested her head against his chest.
She needed a new plan. Fast.
***
Trent looked across the truck at his wife. "Are those pre-dawn wake-ups and long days making you a little sleepy?" He watched Gracie try to hold another yawn in, but her body refused to cooperate.
"You're working me too hard."
He raised an eyebrow. "Some might say not hard enough."
Gracie choked back a laugh. "Just keep your eyes on the road and get us home in one piece."
"Do you want to know something?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
He chose to ignore her ungracious comment. "I've finally worked out how to beat you at your own game. Your days of ignoring the attraction between us are over."
A strangled gasp came from her side of the cab. "The only attraction I feel for you is when I put my cold feet on top of yours. They're better than hot water bottles and much cheaper to run."
"Tell me that when you're lying on top of me at three o'clock in the morning."
"I haven't been on top of you since we were in Las Vegas. And there wasn't much lying down involved."
He could almost feel the heat flaming off her cheeks. "What I need to do is lull you into a false sense of security, then pounce when you least expect it."
"And you're telling me this, because?"
"I'm giving you fair warning, honey. I'm getting ready to pounce." He could have pounced on her at any stage tonight and she wouldn't have minded. The way she'd melted against him when they'd been dancing still left him feeling slightly lightheaded. Every time she'd held his hand or moved in his arms he'd felt on odd possessiveness creep into his heart. And that wasn't the only feeling that had made itself known.
"You could try pouncing. But I got my vaccination against horny husbands the night you decided to take advantage of my inebriated state and marry me. You're looking at a pounce free zone."
Gracie looked quite pleased with herself. Her button nose tilted in the air, stubbornly refusing to admit anything was going on between them. She might not be quite so confident when they arrived home. "We'll just have to see then, won't we?"
"Don't push your luck, cowboy."
Gracie crossed her arms. Her gold wedding band cast a dull glow against her skin. He only wished she'd let him buy her a big flashy engagement ring. At least then all the single men in the room would have known straight off that she'd been taken. More men than he cared to admit had looked twice at his pint-sized bride. But after one look from him, they hadn't paid quite so much attention next time they'd glanced Gracie's way.
He should have been happy she was still living at the ranch, that she hadn't thrown the twisted logic keeping her in Montana back in his face. But sometimes he felt like he had a noose hanging around his neck. It got tighter each time he told a lie to make everyone believe Gracie was more than his temporary bride.
Each time he told Gracie he was helping her find her father.
***
Gracie woke up plastered to the side of Trent's body, her nose stuck under his armpit. Wiggling her fingers, she felt smooth, warm skin. This definitely wasn't a dream. Last night she'd barely managed to evade Trent's wandering hands as they walked up the stairs and into their room.
One cold shower and a mound of pillows jammed between their bodies had done absolutely nothing to squash the heat pulsing through her body. Her nose twitched and she let rip with a giant sneeze that rattled every brain cell in her head.
Trent jerked upright, tossing Gracie back against the bed. "What the??" He rubbed his eyes and peered around the room. "Gracie?"
"Who else were you expecting?" She smiled at the muddled look in his eyes. Confusion turned to a scowl, and then turned to something else altogether. She didn't want to analyze where that expression was going.
Time to get up.
Trent lunged forward, trapping her between his chest and the bed. "Where are you going?"
Gracie swallowed. The gleam in his eyes wasn't a good sign. She needed to move fast. She tried wiggling a little to the right, but parts of Trent's anatomy moved to the right as well. Gracie froze.
Trent grinned.
She moved her hands carefully toward his waist, breathing a sigh of relief when she felt the silky smoothness of satin. He'd worn boxers. "Duty calls, boss. Gotta feed the chickens."
Trent leaned forward, rubbing his nose along the edge of her cheek. In a quiet voice he whispered, "It's five o'clock in the morning. We didn't get in until after one. I think the chickens can wait at least another hour for their food." He moved his lips to the bottom of her ear, nibbling on her lobe.
Heat pooled in parts of Gracie's body that shouldn't be awake at this time of the morning. Imagining the possibilities of an early wake-up call with a six-foot cowboy wearing nothing but satin boxers made her squirm. "Umm, Trent?" Her voice came out in a high-pitched squeak. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Trent." She groaned as his lips took an unnatural interest in the side of her neck. Her body melted into the bed. "The rules. Remember the rules."
"Which one?"
Gracie tried to remember which rule they were breaking. She frowned when she felt her fingers lightly rubbing his back. How did that happen? She jerked her arms away, gripping the sheets in case her traitorous body decided to ignore her brain.
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Dancing in his arms last night, then trying to evade his warm hands when they'd made it to bed had been bad enough. Lying under her husband with a cotton nightshirt and a pair of silky boxers between them was asking for trouble.
Trent lifted his chest off hers, using both arms to push up from the bed. She breathed deeply as a puff of morning air cooled down her overheated skin. Her top half might be safe, but her bottom half now bore the weight of Trent's not so inconsiderable body. A gentle twist of his hips dissolved Gracie into a ball of unfulfilled lust.
She groaned as Trent pushed a tad deeper into the bed. He stared down at her with a wicked light in his eyes. The toad was using every devious trick he could think of to tease her. And her two-timing body was enjoying it. Every single second of it.
"I want to pounce, Gracie."
Holding her breath, she gathered all her resolve into a mushy ball of willpower. She smiled. He should be worried. Very worried.
Trent wiggled his hips.
The one brain cell left between her ears kicked into gear. To get away from Trent, she needed to be on top. The only way she'd be able to do that would be to play along for a while, then jump off his delicious body in super quick time.
Gracie let go of the sheets, rubbing the palms of her hands across his chest. Trent growled low in his throat as her fingers circled his nipples. Licking her bottom lip, she let her hands wander over his biceps, gently scratching his hot skin.
She opened her legs, sending the hard length of him into her soft body. She moaned as the contact of silk on cotton nearly undid all her bad intentions.
Trent used his hips to rock against her body in little movements that made her vision blur.
Planting her legs either side of him, Gracie lifted slightly, just enough to give him the idea that she needed what he was so generously offering. The problem with that flawed logic was that her body did want what he was offering. She could even feel herself lining up for seconds and thirds before the main course had been served. Greedy. She wanted to be greedy. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breath came out in little gasps as Trent took full advantage of her slip in concentration. She needed to get on top. Now.
Gracie ran her hands over his shoulders. She gave him a little push. "On your back, handsome."
He grinned, flipping them both over in the bed.
Little did he know that disappointment was about ten seconds away.
Trent pulled her bottom snuggly onto his groin and her legs slipped either side of his hips.
Gracie groaned as her body rose and fell to accommodate the rocking cowboy under her. He moved her forward, pushing against her body until she cried out his name in a strangled growl.
Maybe she could give him thirty seconds of delusion before she raced out the door. He rocked her forward again. Okay, so she'd turned into a pushover. Forty seconds, and that was her best offer.
Trent's hands started their own exploration of the front of her nightshirt. He reached down and pulled at the hem, trying to yank it free from between their hot bodies. She wiggled her bottom. Trent seemed to forget about the nightshirt. His hands stopped moving, and his knuckles turned white against the balled up cotton in his hands. A wave of heat skimmed his jaw and flushed his cheeks.
Gracie gasped at the naked possession clouding his eyes. She watched as they told her exactly what he felt. She was his and he meant to have her, every last inch of her, wrapped around his body and pleading for release.
"If you're even thinking about rule number two you need to do something about it now, Gracie."
She sucked in a lungful of air trying to find the right words to stop this insanity.
A deep and powerful awareness settled in her heart. Even though it was the last thing she needed right now, she knew she loved this man. She'd loved him from the moment he'd wrapped his body around hers in Walmart. She loved every stubborn, crazy, funny, inch of him and it had gotten too hard to pretend otherwise.
She knew that if she wanted to take the plunge, Gracie McKenzie would be loved like no other woman on the planet.
She wasn't pretending anymore. She was playing for keeps. Gracie lifted her hips and pulled her nightshirt over her head.
Trent sat up and suckled her breast. Her groan of pleasure filled the bedroom as he licked and stroked all reason out the door. Gracie didn't care about anything except the taste and smell of her husband as he wrecked havoc on her quivering body. She pushed harder and faster, gasping as Trent's body bucked beneath her.
He held onto her hips, lifting her off his lap and onto her back. He wrestled her panties down her legs, jerked as her hands found the waistband of his boxers.
Gracie slid her hands under the satin, squeezing and stroking until his breathing turned hot and labored. Wiggling down in the bed, she followed her hands with her lips, smiling at the low growl vibrating in Trent's throat.
He hauled her up his body. Grabbing a condom, he growled into her ear, "Now, Gracie. I need you, honey."
He moved above her and she locked her legs around his waist, eager for their joining. He teased her until they were both hot and slick with sweat. Using the heels of her feet, she pulled him deep, hard, and fast into her body.
Trent moaned her name into the pillow as his body shattered above her, leaving them both gasping for air.
Gracie wrapped her arms around him and wiggled her hips. "Are you still alive, cowboy?"
"I don't know," Trent groaned. "But if you keep doing that you'll find out pretty soon." He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him.
"I think I have a problem setting boundaries."
Trent reached for her hand, kissing her knuckles. "As long as those boundaries sit tight around the two of us, you won't hear any complaints from me."
"That's twice we've made love. Twice in one week."
"If you're complaining, I'm quite happy to make it three."
She closed her eyes and realized she'd have to do some serious reconsidering about her future plans. Gracie McKenzie loved her husband, and she wasn't quite sure what to do about it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Trent rolled down the window of his pickup, wishing he was heading anywhere except into downtown Bozeman. He felt like a fool. Or maybe an idiot. Probably both.
He didn't know what had changed Gracie's mind about the no touching clause in their marriage, but he sure liked it. Ever since the Sweet Pea Ball she'd been happy to indulge his addiction to her body. He'd been worried at how easily they'd slipped into the role of husband and wife. After six weeks of living together, he figured they should be having disagreements; squabbling over what TV channel to watch, whose turn it was to load the dishwasher, or who'd left the toilet seat up for the hundredth time. But that hadn't happened.
He even thought Gracie might have had revenge on her mind for their less than honest wedding ceremony. But that didn't seem to be happening either. They'd fallen into a simple pattern that he looked forward to each day. And each night they'd fallen into other patterns that distracted his mind and turned his body into a quivering wreck. When he made love with Gracie, he felt like he'd run three marathons in a row and still had enough energy left to conquer the world.
Now he had to organize their divorce. He'd made a promise to Gracie and whether he wanted to be here or not wasn't important. He'd make damn sure he didn't mess up his last chance to show her he had some scruples running around his half-baked brain.
Parking in front of Osborne and Sons, he stared at the big concrete letters plastered over the entrance. The red brick building owed a lot of its architecture to the traditional values of the founding families of Bozeman. Solid. Dependable. Safe. Everything he wasn't. He felt like a man staring down the barrel of a gun instead of someone sorting out the mess he'd created.
Pulling himself out of his truck, Trent jammed his hat on his head. He needed to get this over with before he chickened out and never made it through the front door.
"Can I help you?"
She patted her head. "Still not right, huh? I'm trying for the sophisticated executive look, except my dog ran away with my clips. They're probably buried halfway to China by now."
Trent didn't know what he should say, so he took off his hat and waited.
She stood up and reached over the counter. "Annie O'Leary, fill-in receptionist and part-time baker."
He squinted at the grinning woman. "Trent McKenzie, ma'am. I've seen you before. You work at Angel Wings Caf? with Tess."
"That's me. I'm helping out here while Mrs. Daniels is on vacation. Who did you come to see?"
"Adam. Is there more than one lawyer now?"
Annie shook her head. "Only Adam, but there's a chiropractor along the corridor and the Montana Chamber of Commerce are upstairs." She looked down at her computer and smiled. "You're on time. Go down the hall and take the second door on the left."
Trent nodded and trudged along the brown carpet. He'd walked down the same corridor for the same reason, fifteen years ago. Last time he didn't have a choice. This time he wanted to turn tail and run. He flicked his knuckles against a wooden door and walked into the room.
Adam looked up from an inch thick block of paper lying in front of him. "Perfect timing. You've saved me from drowning in deposition hearings."
"Don't get too carried away. You're not going to like what I've got to say."
Adam dropped his pen and sat back in his chair. "Sounds serious. Have a seat."
Trent couldn't have sat still if his life depended on it. So he paced. Backward and forward until he felt dizzy."I've come to get a divorce."
"A what?"
"You heard me. Gracie and I want to get divorced."
"But you've only been married for a couple of weeks."
"I know. What do I need to do?"
"You need to go home and sort out whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into."
Forever Dreams Page 18