by Paige Weaver
“So where are we going?” I asked, stopping beside the truck’s passenger door.
“Where would you like to go?” Cash asked, reaching around me to open the door.
“Hmm.” I thought about it as I started to get in but then all thought left me.
Cash touched my arm, stopping me from climbing into the truck. My skin tingled. My breath hitched.
He didn’t seem to notice. He slid his hand from me and reached inside the pickup. His knuckles brushed against my waist. His scent, so warm and manly, wrapped around me.
I was trapped against the truck, one of his hands on the vehicle, the other reaching inside to move his hat out of the way on the seat. I wasn’t sure if it was the perfect place to be or the worst place in the world. I wanted to reach out and touch him. Kiss his neck that was only inches from me.
Shit. My control was slipping. That was a scary thing for me.
Cash took his time, standing up slowly. His fingers brushed against my hip as he pulled his hand out of the truck. It sent jolts along my nerve endings and made my heart beat faster. Shitty little thing.
I put on my best, queen-bitch face, and pushed my feelings away. With a seductive smile, I took a step toward him, refusing to acknowledge the buzz of excitement that went through my body.
“Listen, cowboy,” I said in a voice meant to make a certain part of him stand up and pay attention. “If we’re going on this date, we’ve got to get a few things straight.”
“Okay.” Cash grinned. “I like rules. Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
Shimmers of need ran through me. My imagination went haywire. I reached out and grabbed his shirt then tugged him to me. He planted a boot on either side of my legs, grabbing the doorframe and truck to keep from falling on me.
“Number one is I hate dates,” I said, hating the way I felt nervous at his closeness. God, he was even more gorgeous up close.
Cash chuckled, looking down at me. “You and me both, Cat.”
I smiled. The muscles in his arms tensed when he saw it. His grin slipped and his gaze dropped down to my lips. The air left my lungs and seemed to evaporate from the atmosphere, making it hard to breathe. I wondered if Cash had the guts to take what most men would die to have.
And apparently he did.
He took a step closer, backing me into the door. His hips touched mine. His voice turned smooth, like the fine whiskey my grandfather used to drink.
“And what’s rule number two?” he asked, his gray eyes peering into mine.
I licked my dry lips. “Well, rule number two is no kissing on a first date.”
Cash nodded slowly. “Okay. I can deal with that,” he said, not flinching when I tightened my hand on his shirt. Thankfully my hand didn’t shake but inside I was trembling. Only one way to fix that – prove it was nothing.
I gave him a seductive smile and let go of his shirt. I moved my fingers down until they rested against his stomach, inches from his belt buckle.
“But the thing is I like to break the rules, cowboy,” I whispered.
Before I thought better of it, I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to me. It was time to take control and show him who was boss. But I was in for one hell of a surprise.
His mouth captured mine with fierce possession. He took control. Tasting me. Experiencing me. Stamping me as his. It was hot and aggravating and fucking amazing all at this same time. There was no hesitation. No uncertainty. No shyness or holding back. This man was in charge.
And I had no hope of winning.
His body fitted mine like a glove, from top to bottom and everywhere in between. I was crushed against the truck, metal on one side and pure male hardness on the other. His lips slanted across mine like it wasn’t our first kiss but our millionth. Gone was the cowboy who smiled and grinned like a good ol’ boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. The man that kissed me was a man on a mission. A man not to tease.
I started to doubt my decision to kiss him, wondering if I would be able to walk away in one piece. But his hands stayed a safe distance from my body, leaving me safe. His lips were all I needed. All I desired and more.
I slid my hand around his neck, pulling him to me more. His skin was warm. Strands of his hair teased the top of my fingers. I wanted to touch him everywhere and desperately wanted him to touch me.
The thought sobered me up. I tore my mouth from his, letting go of his shirt and dropping my hand from his neck at the same time.
“Shit,” I whispered, touching my lips. They felt swollen and used, abused and more.
“That’s one rule broken. Have any others?” Cash said, his mouth close to mine. The muscles in his arms flexed as he kept me trapped against the truck door.
I lifted my gaze to his, looking him in the eye. “No. Do you have any rules?”
Cash’s mouth curved upward. “Yeah, I do. Maybe one day I’ll tell you or better yet, show you.”
He dropped his hands away and took a step back, his eyes pinpoints of gray heat searing me. I stood shock still, my body sparking like a live wire dropped in water. He was dangerous. Hazardous to my well-being. I hadn’t felt this way around a man since Luke.
And that scared me.
“Ready to go?” he asked in a low voice.
I nodded, running my tongue over my lip in stupid awe.
He grinned, seeing me do it, but didn’t say anything. He just waited patiently for me to climb in the truck. With my heart beating out of control, I did, careful to keep my dress tucked around me.
Cash shut the door as soon as I was in and started around the truck. A second later he was sliding into the driver’s seat. I didn’t have to look at him to feel him near me. My subconscious was drawn to him. My body was craving him. I suddenly had no control and that was terrifying to me.
I looked down at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap. They were shaking. Shaking, for chrissake. My head was spinning and my mind was in turmoil. What I was feeling was wrong and I had no right to it.
None at all.
“So where would you like to go?” Cash asked from the driver’s side, gazing at me with calm composure.
I felt myself stiffen, my decision firmly in place. I needed to take control again. It was that simple. I had to put him in his place. Build up and fortify the wall that I kept between me and every man I met. I had to prove that I didn’t want him. The best way I knew how to do that was to remind Cash who he was and who he was with.
And why we didn’t belong together.
I knew exactly how to do it.
“Take me to Dallas. I know the perfect place,” I said with secret smugness. What better way to prove that I held the upper hand and was untouchable by someone like him than to go to a luxurious restaurant with a hundred dollar price tag per plate? Oh, yes. He would feel embarrassed and out of my league. I would have him under my thumb, right where I had most men. I would be in control, getting what I wanted with no strings attached.
And I would walk away unscathed.
Feeling nothing.
Chapter Eight
Cat
Cliché was posh, outrageously overpriced, and intimate. The lighting was low, giving the tables and their occupants privacy. White tablecloths adorned each table and artfully folded black napkins were placed on expensive appetizer plates. The menu boasted extravagant foods, from oysters and squid to duck and quail. The wine list started at triple digit prices and the champagne list was extensive. It was in the heart of Dallas, one hour away from our little hick town and worlds above what most people could afford.
Cash didn’t bat an eye when I told him where I wanted to go. He also didn’t flinch when he handed the keys of his beat-up truck over to the valet and watched him drive it away. But he did tense when we walked into the restaurant and the maître d’ greeted us with a look of revulsion, glancing down at Cash’s boots and jeans.
“Ah… Mmm…” The man twisted around, looking flustered and not sure what to do with a cowboy in his restaurant. Jeans an
d boots might be the normal attire for people in the state of Texas but in this restaurant, suits, ties, and even tuxedos were the only acceptable style of dress.
The corner of my mouth lifted in a satisfied smile, happy that my plan was working. But when I looked at Cash my breath was stolen.
He stood next to me, a man cut from stone and made from perfection. Intensity lined his body. His hand hung loosely at his side, his fingers long and powerful against his jeans. I imagined them on me. Running down my body. Driving me crazy.
“Ahem.”
I blinked. The maître d’ was staring at me expectedly.
“Sorry,” I said with a nervous smile, hoping no one could see the sudden flush on my body.
“Yes, well…” The maître d’ gave Cash another perusal then sniffed with distaste and averted his eyes, focusing on me. “Two tonight?"
“Yes,” I answered.
The man turned with a flourish and motioned for us to follow him. We entered the dining area. Men in dark suits and women in slinky dresses ogled Cash as he walked behind me. They stared with blatant disapproval at his clothes and frowned with disdain at his boots.
I smiled smugly. It’s what I wanted, for him to feel awkward and beneath me. If I proved he didn’t belong in my world then I could prove I didn’t belong with him. I could compartmentalize him and any emotions he invoked in me.
But that idea when out the window a second later.
As the maître d’ led the way between the tables, I felt a hand on the small of my back. Every inch of me came alive. My dress provided only a thin veil between Cash’s fingers and my skin. His touch was strong yet gentle. Innocent yet intimate. I felt possessed and protected. My control started slipping. If I lost it…if I let my guard down…I might feel something.
And that wasn’t an option.
The maître d’ led us to a secluded table in the corner. Cash never removed his hand from me the entire time there. It stayed on my waist, searing me through my dress. Torturing me as it slid around to my hip. I seethed. I wanted it off. It threatened me. But for so reason I couldn’t push it away.
My heart pounded as his arm brushed across my back. Shivers moved down my arm when his crisp shirt rubbed against me. When we reached the table, his fingers skimmed over my waist, leaving me so we could sit down on the overstuffed, plush seat for two.
The corner was secluded, made for intimacy and situated for secrecy. Heavy black drapes separated us from others. Red velvet lined the wall behind us and the single black leather seat hugged our bodies and kept us close together.
Cash sat down beside me. His thigh rested against mine, his arm brushed against me as he moved. Sitting so close to him made me feel cocooned. Safe in our little secret enclosure. It was an unusual feeling for me, one that made me nervous and put me on edge.
“For you, madam.”
I forced a gracious smile at the maître d and took the menu he offered. He gave one to Cash without comment, refusing to look at him. With a sniff, he turned and walked away.
Cash studied his menu a second then laid it on the table in front of him. I took a little longer, afraid to face what was becoming my new problem.
Resisting him.
“Nervous?” he asked, watching me.
My heart quickened but I remained calm. I put my menu on the table and looked at him, knowing I had to lie.
“Not at all. You?” I asked, proud my voice didn’t waver.
He put his arm on top of the chair behind me, a movement that instantly brought him closer to me.
“Yes, I’m nervous as hell. You’re beautiful, Cat, and I’m here with you,” he said in a low, raspy voice.
My breath hitched and I felt myself falling. I didn’t like it at all. Don’t let him get to you. Keep your guard up. Flirt but don’t feel.
I gave him a suggestive smile, hoping he couldn’t read my mind. “You should be nervous, cowboy. I’m dangerous.”
The corner of Cash’s mouth shot up in a smirk. He leaned closer and his voice dropped to a whisper.
“Well, I think I can handle one tiny, little pussy cat even if it means getting a few scratches,” he said.
I opened my mouth to respond but clamped it shut when a waiter appeared at our table.
Cash removed his arm from the back of the chair and turned his attention to the tuxedo-wearing waiter. I grew aggravated at his easy smile and relaxed composure as he answered the man’s questions and smiled politely.
He shouldn’t feel comfortable here. He should feel out of place. Forced to see that he didn’t fit in my world. But instead I was the one feeling disoriented.
I listened as he ordered quail like he did it every day. I ordered the veal, sounding more confident than I felt. If the waiter noticed the tension, he didn’t reveal it. He filled our glasses with chilled bottled water and left us alone in our private, secluded corner.
I put a napkin in my lap then took a drink, watching Cash out of the corner of my eye. His jaw tightened as he watched the other patrons. I wondered what he was thinking and then wondered why the hell I even cared. As long as he started to believe that asking me out was a bad idea, he could think whatever he wanted. I needed him to believe that because if he didn’t, I was afraid I was in trouble.
Cash caught me staring at him. He turned his gray eyes on me, making me shiver.
“So tell me, Cat, what’s your real name?” he asked.
I blinked, ending the trance I was in. “Catarina,” I answered, putting my glass down. “I was named after my mother’s abuela.”
“I like that. Catarina.”
He tried out my name like he was considering owning it. He might as well have been saying, ‘I want to fuck you’ or ‘I want to lick your pussy.’ It had just as much effect on me.
Cash didn’t seem to notice how his voice alone was an aphrodisiac to me. He took a small sip of his water then set it on the table.
“What do your parents do for a living?” he asked, keeping his gaze on me.
I cleared my throat and my thoughts. “You’ve never heard of my father, the all powerful Matt Phillips?” I asked, covering up my nervousness with a smart-aleck attitude.
Cash shook his head. “Nope. Should I?”
I scoffed. “Well, just about everyone in the county knows him.”
Cash ran a finger over the sweat on his water glass, catching a drop on the pad of his thumb. Fuck, that was hot.
“I’m not everyone, Cat,” he said, his voice oozing sex.
I suddenly felt warm. Very warm and…wet.
A tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He dropped his hand away from the glass, turning his full attention on me. “Tell me about your dad.”
I tucked a curl behind my ear. “Well, he’s an oil tycoon. The biggest around.”
“And?” Cash prompted when I didn’t say anything else. “Are you two close?”
I played with the edge of the napkin in my lap, uncomfortable with the conversation. “Not really. He travels a lot.”
“What about your mom?” Cash asked, his gaze dropping to my fingers on the napkin. “Are you close to her?”
I laughed sarcastically. “My mother? Uh, no. She didn’t like me from the moment I was born. But it doesn’t matter. Her and my dad divorced. She lives in New York City now with her boyfriend. I never see her.”
Cash’s gaze darted up to mine. “Never?”
“Nope. I just don’t fit into her life. At least that’s what she told me.” I let go of the napkin, becoming frustrated with all the questions. They picked at a scab that would never heal.
“Shit, that’s awful,” Cash said with sympathy. Something I didn’t want from anyone.
I shrugged, becoming defensive. “Not really. I’ve never known anything different.”
“So you have one brother?” Cash asked, studying me closely.
“No. I have two. Tate and Nathan. You met Tate. He’s the youngest. Nathan is—” I stopped myself. What was I doing, telling Cash all about mysel
f? I couldn’t let him in my world. I kept that part of me safe. Locked away. What the hell was happening to me? I never told men anything. It was always just fuck and leave. Wham bam, thank you. But when Cash looked at me, I felt different.
And that was disturbing.
He started to say something but paused, his eyebrows drawing together. “Wait. Nathan Phillips? That name sounds familiar. Did he go to Central High?”
“Yes. He was two grades ahead of me.”
Cash’s gaze dropped down to my lips then back up, a movement so fast I almost missed it. “So where did you go to school?” he asked. “I was a loner but I would have known if someone like you was in one of my classes.”
I shifted in the seat, wondering why my shitty little heart wouldn’t stop pounding and why the simplest words Cash said caused it.
“I went to private school in Dallas,” I admitted. “Nathan chose to stay here.”
“Hmm. Figures.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cash leaned even closer. “It means that I had a feeling you’re a spoiled little rich girl. Your daddy is a bigwig. You probably get everything you want when you want it, including going to a private school.”
“So what’s your point?” I asked, growing angry.
Cash’s eyes turned darker, piercing mine. “The point is – what do you want with a guy like me? I asked you out but I want to know why you agreed to go. I’m not one of those men you can lead around with a shake of your ass and a cock-teasing smile, Cat.”
I clenched my hands tightly in my lap, fighting the wave of fury building in me. From the moment I met him he made my hands shake and my heart race. He pissed me off one moment and made my panties wet the next. It made me mad and afraid and questioning my own sanity. I became angry and annoyed and fucking tired of playing nice.
I reached out and ran my hand along his thigh, letting my fingers slid over the muscle. “So why did you ask me out than? To see if I’ll go down on you or to find how I taste?”
A muscle ticked in Cash’s jaw.