Texas Tough

by Janice Maynard

  When she noticed he had chosen to go without shoes, she melted a little. Something about those large, tanned feet struck her as both masculine and boyish.

  He smiled at her as he sprawled in the chair and ran his hands across his head. “I threw some potatoes in the oven. If we can wrap this up in forty-five minutes, I’ll get the steaks on the grill. There’s stuff in the fridge to make a salad, if you don’t mind doing that.”

  “I’d be happy to.” She peered through the camera and frowned. “I like you relaxed, but you’ve messed up your hair.” Without overthinking it, she went to him and used her fingers to comb the thick, damp strands until she was happy with how he looked.

  Carter took her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I like it when you groom me, Abs.”

  She pursed her lips, refusing to let him see that one achingly tender kiss had her undone. “You mean like a gorilla mom with her baby?”

  His jaw jutted. “I’m a full-grown man, Abby. You can count on that.”

  “Duly noted.” She took her spot behind the camera. “Start with staff,” she said calmly. “How many full-time employees do you have? What do they do? And what about seasonal and part-time?”

  The camera started rolling, and Carter began talking. Despite Abby’s total unfamiliarity with the topic, he managed to make it interesting. She quizzed him on herd sizes and breeds and what constituted a “good” year. She asked about weather disasters like tornadoes and hailstorms and fires, and then lesser crises like drought and floods.

  The more Carter talked, the more Abby realized how deeply devoted he was to his heritage. He had to be. No one else loved it like he did.

  Lastly, she touched on his family.

  “They’re actually coming for a visit this weekend,” Carter said. “My parents, my sister and brother-in-law, and my niece, Beebee.”

  “Beebee?”

  “They named her Beatrice, but that might stick when she’s ten or eleven. At eight months, Beebee works.”

  Abby turned off the camera and stretched. “I have one last question, but I don’t want it on camera.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I be worried?”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about the festival.”

  “Sounds serious from the tone of your voice.”

  Abby curled up on one end of the sofa and picked at a loose thread on the knee of her jeans. “I stumbled on something yesterday...something that might make a huge jumping-off point for my documentary. But I wanted to get your opinion.”

  “Go on...”

  “When I was in the diner eating lunch, I overheard a conversation in the booth behind me. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, but it was hard not to listen. One woman was saying she heard someone stole a ton of money from the Soiree on the Bay checking account. Could that possibly be true? Nothing was mentioned in the meeting yesterday.”

  Carter scowled. “That’s a dead end, Abby. We’ve talked about this. Royal thrives on innuendo and gossip. It grows as fast as kudzu. But ninety percent of the time, there’s nothing to it. People don’t like outsiders poking their noses in our business. You need to drop it. Find another angle. Otherwise, you’ll end up alienating the very people who could help you with your project.”

  Abby was stunned by his vehemence. And hurt. The careless way he referred to her as an outsider, gave his warning a personal slant. Was that what he thought of her?

  When Carter left to go put the steaks on the grill, she carried all her gear to the car and then wandered into the kitchen and began fixing a salad. As promised, she had everything at hand in the oversize, cutting-edge refrigerator. Finding a large bowl and a small pitcher for the dressing gave her an excuse to snoop through his cabinets.

  As she worked, her pride still stung from his harsh rebuke. And her heart. Soiree on the Bay wouldn’t be the first festival to be rocked by graft and greed. Local sponsors, both individual and corporate, had fronted an enormous amount of money to move the event forward.

  Carter might not like it. In fact, she wouldn’t bring it up again. But on her own, she was determined to explore this lead, tenuous though it was. Almost all gossip contained a grain of truth, no matter how tiny. She would follow this road until it petered out—or gave her the impetus she needed to put her documentary on a strong footing.

  Abby didn’t eat much red meat as a rule, but the steaks were extraordinary. She supposed a man who owned an enormous ranch learned early how to prepare beef. It was tender and subtly flavored. With the loaded baked potatoes and salad, it was the perfect meal.

  Though Abby offered to help with cleanup, he refused. “There’s not that much. And my housekeeper comes at ten in the morning.”

  “In that case, I should be getting back to town,” she said.

  Carter stilled, his back to her as he put things in the fridge. He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Or you could stay.” The gleam in his beautiful blue eyes was temptation, pure and simple.

  Here it was. Decision time. It would be much easier to get caught up in the moment, but Carter wasn’t taking that tack. He was asking flat out. Offering her a clear choice. Be intimate with him, or choose to walk away.

  He had given her everything she could ask for in terms of the interview. It was going to make incredibly good footage. But she felt no compunction to stay based on that. Whatever happened between the two of them was not going to be business.

  The positives were clear. He was an honorable man, a conscientious son. A reputable landowner. Beyond that, he was sexy as hell. She knew without hesitation that he would be good to a woman in bed. Or bad, if she desired.

  Up until this visit to Royal, Texas, she had been cautious in her love life. Her few relationships had been based on shared interests and a mutual desire for sexual satisfaction. But in every case, she had felt relief when the weeks or months were over, and she was single again. She’d told herself that she wasn’t good at giving and receiving intimacy. Mostly, because she was too self-sufficient, too private.

  Yet now, here was Carter. The man who burned away every last one of her reservations with a single look. Her body recognized him as a potential lover. But there was nothing simple about it. In fact, the urgency she felt was both astonishing and intimidating.

  “Is that a good idea?” she asked, stalling for time to answer her own doubts.

  “I could be convinced to come to the hotel with you.” He leaned his hips against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. His face was hard to read.

  She forced a laugh. “After you lectured me about Royal’s gossipy grapevine? No, thanks. I don’t want the whole town knowing what we do.”

  His expression softened. “It’s your call, Abs. I won’t be accused of pressuring you.”

  “I know that, dammit.” She put her hands to her hot cheeks, mortified. “I’m sorry.” Perhaps this was where his extra decade gave him the edge. He’d probably lived this scene half a dozen more times than she had. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I liked riding with you this morning. Could we take Foxtrot out for an evening cruise? I want to chase the sunset, hard and fast.”

  A flush rode high on his cheekbones. His eyes darkened. “We can do that. Meet me in the stable in fifteen minutes.”

  And then he was gone. Abby sought out the guest bathroom again and tidied her hair, securing it more tightly in its knot. As she stared at herself in the mirror, she wondered what Carter saw when he looked at her. Some men had called her exotic. It was a description she didn’t really enjoy.

  She didn’t want to be different, at least not in that way. Though she had no hard data to back it up, her gut feeling was that Carter saw her as a woman first. A sexual being. A human with hopes and dreams.

  She was okay with that. Because she recognized those same aspects in him. And something about him drew her like no one she had ever met.

/>   It struck her suddenly, that not once had she entertained the idea of taking her camera on this outing. The professional Abby was done for the day. Tonight was all about pleasure.

  As she walked through the house and out to the barn, she listed all the reasons not to stay with Carter. She had no clothes, no suitcase, nothing but a tube of ChapStick in her purse. Would she wake up in the morning feeling awkward and embarrassed? The answer was almost surely yes.

  But even as she tried to talk herself out of tumbling into his bed, she knew the decision had been made.

  The barn smelled amazing. As a city girl, she saw it as an anomaly, but one she liked. The atmosphere was earthy and real. When she saw the man waiting for her, her heart stumbled. He was wearing the Stetson this time. And riding boots.

  The horse whinnied softly when Abby approached.

  Carter smiled at her, an uncomplicated, straightforward look that encompassed welcome and desire and forbidden promises.

  “I’m putting you in front his time,” he said.

  Unlike before, there were no instructions. He simply put his hands on her waist and hefted her up into the saddle. His easy strength gave her a little thrill.

  Moments later, he settled in behind her, his arms coming around her to hold the reins. His lips brushed the back of her neck. “You ready?”

  It was a question with layers of meaning. “Yes,” she answered, her response firm and unequivocal. “I can’t wait.”

  Eight

  Carter knew the exact moment Abby unwound. Like a rag doll, all the stiffness left her body, and her spine relaxed against his chest. He held the reins with one hand, so he could curl his arm around her waist.

  The large saddle accommodated both of them comfortably. Foxtrot was a strong stallion, easily capable of bearing their weight and more. As the horse ambled away from the house toward the road, Carter told himself he had to concentrate. He had precious cargo. But all he wanted to do was bury his face in Abby’s hair and hope she had stayed for more than an evening excursion on the ranch.

  The sunset was particularly beautiful. Just enough clouds to make striking patterns of orange and pink and gold, much like the night he and Abby had first met. Already, that moment seemed like eons ago. But it wasn’t, and he’d do well to remember that.

  He nuzzled her ear. “You still want speed?”

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  He gave Foxtrot a nudge with his knees and felt the jolt of adrenaline as the powerful animal reached his stride. They were streaking down the road that bisected the ranch at a dizzying speed. It was a safe enough course.

  Abby’s delighted squeal made Carter smile. He pushed the horse faster and harder. Foxtrot loved the free rein. Even though it had been a hot day, at this hour and this speed, the wind felt chilly. He held Abby close, his posture protective.

  Carter knew she was strong and independent, but she was young and new to Texas. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone harm her, not even himself.

  At last, they reached the far boundary of his acreage and turned around to head for home. Now Foxtrot’s gallop was more sedate. Eventually, Carter slowed him further still. No point in ending the night too soon.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “A little. But it’s okay. I wouldn’t have missed this.”

  “What would you be doing back in New York about now?”

  He felt her shrug. “Maybe seeing a play. I adore Broadway. Always have. I actually thought about pursuing acting at one point.”

  “You’d have been good at it, I think. You have a very expressive face. And a beautiful voice.”

  She turned her head and rested her cheek over his heart for a moment. “Thank you, Carter. That’s a sweet thing to say.”

  “But true.”

  He held her close, steering the horse in the gathering gloom.

  As they neared the house, Abby whispered something he didn’t quite catch.

  “What was that, Abs?”

  Still facing straight ahead, she reached behind her and cupped his cheek with a slender, long-fingered hand. “I don’t have any clean clothes with me. Or anything for that matter.”

  The insinuation went straight to his head and his groin. “I can hook you up,” he said gruffly. “The guest bathroom has everything you’ll need. And we can throw your clothes in the washer. I’ll give you one of my shirts in the meantime.”

  She nodded. “Then I’d like to stay the night.”

  Things got fuzzy for Carter after that. He had wanted her for hours. The day had been one long and wonderful—but frustrating—dance of foreplay.

  Now Abby was in his arms and committed to his bed. He’d won the lottery, though he would have sworn he wasn’t a gambling man.

  At the stable, he dismounted and helped her down. “I have to deal with the horse. If you’ll wait for me, we can take a shower together.”

  In the illumination from the light inside the barn, her expression was bashful. “I think this first time I’d feel more comfortable getting ready on my own. Okay?”

  He kissed her forehead. “Whatever you want.” He was still fixated on that one important phrase this first time. How many would there be? Abby had a job to do in Royal. She wouldn’t be at his beck and call. And his days were plenty busy, too.

  It was pointless to overanalyze things. He removed Foxtrot’s saddle and rubbed him down before checking his food and water. Then he lowered the lights and closed up the barn. As he walked back to the house, he felt jittery. A shot of whiskey might be nice. But even that couldn’t dull the hunger he felt.

  When he reached his suite, the walk-in closet door stood open. Abby had clearly helped herself to an item of his clothing. That image kept him hard all during his shower. And when he returned to the bedroom and found her sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, his erection grew.

  She had picked out a plain white cotton button-down and had rolled the long sleeves to her elbows. Her dark, wavy hair fell around her shoulders. The shirttails covered her modestly.

  But not for long...

  Carter wore only a damp towel tucked around his hips. He had a hard time catching his breath. “Did you find everything you need?”

  She tilted her head to one side and gave him a mischievous grin. “Not yet.”

  That was the thing that kept tripping him up. Abby Carmichael looked young and innocent, but she wasn’t. She was an adult, with a woman’s wants and needs. Luckily for him, she had found her way into his bed.

  When he tossed the towel on a nearby chair, Abby lost her smile. Her gaze settled on his sex. He saw the muscles in her throat move when she swallowed.

  “Scoot over,” he said, pulling the covers back and joining her. He sprawled on his side, propping his head on his hand. “You look beautiful, Ms. Carmichael. And you smell delicious.”

  Abby didn’t move. He thought she might be holding her breath. Finally, she exhaled a little puff of air. “Your guest bathroom is stocked with lovely toiletries.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” He ran his thumb across her exposed knee. “Are you scared of me, Abby?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No. My birth control pills are at the hotel. You’ll have to wear a condom.”

  “That’s not a problem.” He slid his hand from her knee to her thigh, under the shirt. “Talk to me, Abs.”

  Her hands were clasped in her lap. She looked either nervous or uncertain, or both. “I haven’t slept with a lot of men,” she admitted. “And you’re not like any of them.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “What if this doesn’t work? I’ve known you four days. That’s not me, Carter. I’m not an impulsive kind of woman. But this chemistry between us...it’s...”

  “Undeniable? Explosive? Breath-stealing?”

  She nodded. “All those things.”

  He sat
up and leaned against the headboard, pulling her into a loose embrace, combing his fingers through her hair. “We’ll take it slow. You tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

  She pulled back and stared at him with those deep brown eyes framed in thick lashes. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  With unsteady hands, he unbuttoned the shirt Abby wore, his shirt, gradually revealing pale brown skin that was soft and smooth and begging for his kisses. Her breasts were high and full, the tips a lighter shade than her eyes.

  When he managed the final button, he slid the garment off her slender body and cast it aside. Abby watched him with a rapt expression that stoked the flame burning inside him. When he palmed her breast, she gasped.

  He thumbed the nipple, watching in fascination as it furled tightly. When he leaned down to take that bud into his mouth, Abby’s choked moan ignited him. He dragged her onto the mattress and lifted himself over her, giving the other breast equal attention.

  Her hands fisted in his hair painfully. He suspected they were both too primed to make this last as long as he wanted, but he was going to try.

  She moved restlessly as he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose and finally, her soft lips. The taste of her was like a drug, clouding his brain. “Abby,” he groaned.

  They kissed wildly, like they had in the pool. Only now, they were in a big soft bed made for a man and a woman. And pleasure. Endless pleasure.

  He lost himself in the kissing, his hands equally occupied learning the hills and valleys of her lithe, long-limbed body. She was soft and strong, a seductive combo.

  In some dim, conscious corner of his brain, he remembered protection. Rolling away from her, he snatched open a drawer and found what he wanted. After ripping open the package, he sheathed himself, knowing he couldn’t hold out very long this first time.

  When he delicately stroked Abby’s center, she was warm and wet and ready for him. He entered her with two fingers, feeling her body tighten against his intrusion. “I need you, Abs. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”