Dylan prodded devilishly. “And right now…?”
Emily settled her hat on her head. “I want to see you start Ginger’s training.”
Seeming pleased at that, Dylan dipped his head in a gallant bow and showed her the way. “Then let’s get to it.”
The horses Dylan was working with were housed in a maze of corrals and pastures, all feeding into a central alley. Salt and Pepper were in an adjacent paddock, grazing sedately. Ginger was by herself in another.
Dylan lifted the latch. Ginger took the opening he gave her and bolted down the aisleway. She took the first available exit and landed in a high-walled round pen. Dylan stepped in after her, closing the gate. Emily climbed onto the riser, above the pen, to watch.
“Easy, girl,” Dylan said, as the beautiful mustang pranced back and forth, eyeing Dylan nervously all the while. He unfurled a long cloth line and gently threw it in the mare’s direction. Ginger pranced away from it. Dylan pursued, calmly extending the line, forcing Ginger to go away from him again and again.
First in clockwise motion.
Then counterclockwise.
Across the center of the round pen.
Around the sides.
Again and again, they went.
“How long are you going to do this?” Emily asked.
Dylan cast her a look over his shoulder. He raised his hand—Ginger went faster. He dropped his hand to the side, she slowed. “Average time is about six minutes.”
And then what? Emily wondered.
Six minutes later, she found out.
Dylan stopped throwing out the cloth line and simply stood quietly in the center of the pen. Slowly, he turned, so his shoulder was toward the mustang. Head bowed, he waited.
Ginger stood, trembling with nervousness.
Emily wondered what was up now.
Still, Dylan stood, his body quiet, posture relaxed, head down.
Ginger edged closer. Closer still, until her elegant thousand-pound body was right beside him.
Ever so slowly, Dylan turned toward her. Keeping his head down, his gaze on the ground, he murmured, “That’s it, sweetheart. See? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your friend.”
With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed Ginger’s face, then moved around to stroke the sides of her neck, her back, the vulnerable skin of her stomach, and back around to her hips and flanks. Emily watched, mesmerized, as the once-wild horse leaned into his touch, completely accepting, trusting absolutely.
“That was amazing,” Emily said an hour later, when Dylan led the mustang back to the paddock where Salt and Pepper were pastured. So this was what horse whisperers did. “Do you use the same method every time?”
Dylan nodded, matter-of-fact in his expertise. “The horse has to go away from me before he or she can come back to me.”
“So you drove her away repeatedly,” Emily marveled. “And yet you knew she would come back to you in the end.”
Dylan inclined his head. “It’s basic horse—or herd—psychology.”
To want what you can’t have? To go where you’re not supposed to be? “Or psychology in general.” Emily paused. Suddenly suspicious as her next thought hit, she narrowed her eyes at Dylan. “So I have to ask—is that what you’ve been doing to me?”
DYLAN STARED at Emily, hoping the conversation wasn’t headed where it appeared to be. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Emily gave Dylan a deliberately provoking look and smiled with all the steely resolve of a Texas belle, born and bred. “You pique my interest,” she observed sweetly. Then she looked at him in a way that made him want to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Which maybe, given the heat between them, was not such a bad idea….
Emily stepped closer yet and continued with a cantankerous toss of her head. “You only let me—or any other woman for that matter—come so close.”
That was true of other women, he thought. Not Emily.
Her soft lips pursed in dismay. “Then you drive her away, again and again.”
Once more, she seemed to be watching and weighing everything he said and did.
“Waiting patiently,” Emily continued. “Knowing that she’ll come back and join up with you in the end, just the way Ginger did.”
If Dylan didn’t know better, he would think it was Emily’s heart that was hurting, instead of her pride. When the truth was, this was about something much more fundamental. He folded his arms and leaned against the fence. “You’re making it too complicated,” he said mildly.
She brushed past him, a censuring light in her eyes, a downward slant to her lips. “I don’t think so.”
He caught her by the arm and swung them both around so fast she stumbled into his chest. His own body humming with the crazy feeling of need running riot inside him, he steadied her, then planted his hands on either side of her and leaned over her, so she was pinned between his body and the smooth rails of the wooden fence.
He let his eyes slide over the inviting curves of her breasts, flat abdomen and sexy, jean-clad legs, before returning to her tousled hair, soft lips and wide blue eyes. “There’s nothing complicated about me wanting you, or what I need,” he told her frankly, not afraid to be bold if boldness was what was called for.
She released a breath. “Which is what exactly?”
Ignoring the flash of indignation on her pretty face, Dylan leaned even closer. He’d lost the battle to be a gentleman, but if nothing else, he would be honest. “To take you in my arms,” he said very, very softly, “and make love to you.”
Before Emily could do more than gasp, Dylan caught her beneath the knees, swung her up into his arms and strode toward the house. Resenting having his integrity and his actions questioned now—especially by Emily, who had spent enough time with him to know better—Dylan continued acting with the total freedom he’d enjoyed his entire adult life.
“What’s complicated,” he told her, as he mounted the steps and carried her on into the house, “is the notion of us being together.”
His point made, that if they so chose, the two of them could do anything they damn well wanted, he set her down inside the foyer.
Not sure when he had ever been so thoroughly exasperated by a woman, he gazed at her. “’Cause there is no way you’re ever going to want what I want—a no-strings affair that lasts as long as we want it to and still allows us to walk away, completely unscathed.”
And that was one heck of a shame….
Sparks gleamed in Emily’s blue eyes. “Want to bet?” she challenged.
DYLAN THOUGHT she was a chicken. That she’d never be wild and reckless and yes—courageous—enough to act on the needs of her body. He was wrong. And she was going to show him.
Giving him no chance to resist, Emily bounded up and leaped into his arms. She landed with her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, her legs locked around his waist.
Caught completely by surprise, Dylan stumbled backward, his weight falling against the wall. And then all was lost in the first thrilling rush of freedom and the impact of her lips planted squarely on his. Emily knew he didn’t mean to kiss her back. Any more than she could help kissing him. And somehow that made the culmination of their mutual desire all the hotter.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Yet it was.
She wasn’t supposed to be this reckless.
Yet she was.
“Emily. Emily…” Dylan groaned.
The rush of emotion overwhelmed her. In the feminine heart of her, the tingling started. “Don’t stop.” She caught his face in her hands, looked deep into his eyes and whispered, “Don’t stop.” She celebrated the victory of being together, of leaving constraints behind. Of daring intimacy…and sex…and the possibility that every fantasy she had about him just might come true…
And he seemed enthralled, too. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, leaving not a millimeter untouched. Sensation swept through her like a tsunami, followed by a tidal wa
ve of need. It had been so long since she had been held and kissed with anywhere near this conviction. Never mind the pure physical need.
When his hand slipped beneath her blouse and cupped her breast through the lace of her bra, Emily arched her back and trembled with pleasure. She was drowning in the incredible sensations sweeping through her. Wanting more, Emily threaded her hands through his hair and held his head. “Let’s go to bed, Dylan,” she whispered, her breath coming raggedly. “Right now.”
Dylan paused, breathing hard. Clearly he wanted to take their lovemaking to the limit and beyond. He searched her face. “You’re sure?”
“Very.”
His glance dropped to the nipples protruding visibly through her blouse. He flashed her a debilitating sexy grin. His grip tightening possessively, he regarded her with a mock gallantry that kindled her senses. “Well, then, whatever the lady wants…”
He shifted her closer to his chest and carried her, still straddling his waist, through the hall and up the steps. He strode down the hall and lowered her, with surprising gentleness, onto the rumpled covers of his bed. Pausing only long enough to kick off his boots and take off hers, he stretched out next to her.
She flushed hotly as he unbuttoned her blouse, dropping kisses along the curve of her cheek, the slope of her neck, the décolletage of her bra. He looked at her lovingly as he traced the bow shape of her lips with his fingertip.
Then that, too, dropped to her breast.
He found the curve, the tip, the valley in between. Emily shuddered in response. She had never felt more beautiful than she did at that moment, seeing herself reflected in his gaze. “I knew we’d end up together,” he whispered, kissing her again, desire exploding through them in liquid, melting heat.
Then he was on top of her, his weight as welcoming as a blanket on a cold winter’s night, his mouth on hers in a kiss that was shattering in its seductive sensuality. He kissed her as if he were in love with her, and would be for all time. He kissed her as if he had always known they had something special and were meant to be together like this.
Emily had never before felt such deep-seated longing surge through her, driving her toward wild abandon. And these intoxicating emotions proved to be the ultimate aphrodisiac.
Feeling sexier, more adventurous than she had in her entire life, she gave herself over to the experience. Moaning softly as Dylan unclasped her bra and explored the tenderness of her skin. She arched in ecstasy with each caress of hand and lips and tongue. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and discovered the hard masculine contours of his chest. Lower still, she unzipped his jeans, releasing the burgeoning proof of his desire.
He was hot and hard all over. All warm satin skin and coarse wheat-blond hair. Determined to prove to him that she was as exciting and fiercely independent as he was, she held his eyes with the promise of the hot, languid lovemaking to come….
DYLAN HADN’T MEANT for any of this to happen.
He had expected to spend time with her. Maybe put on a little show of public ardor once or twice, do whatever it was she felt “couples” did together, until the facade ended.
But that was before he had watched her dare damn near everything and luxuriated in the soft, silky feel of her. Or looked into the turbulent sea-blue of her eyes and kissed her hard and soft and every way in between.
“You’ve got to promise me something,” he whispered, as he took her to the very edge of the bed. The need to make her his was stronger than ever. “No heartache. No regrets…”
“Just pleasure,” she whispered back, “in the here and now.”
And those vows were all it took, Dylan noted, to get her on the same track as he. She moaned against him, kissing him ardently. Even as she surrendered, she took. Even as he gave, he found.
Determined to set the pace, he parted her legs and slipped between her thighs. Holding her close, he pushed inside her, timing his movements as she wrapped her limbs around him and lifted her body to his.
His hands caught her hips as she pulled him deeper still. Their eyes locked and a mixture of tenderness and primal possessiveness filled his soul. He knew it was just friendship and sex, but it felt like more. Although he knew it would end, it felt like it never would. And then there was no more prolonging the inevitable. Trembling, they succumbed to the swirling, enviable pleasure.
EMILY LAY CUDDLED in Dylan’s strong arms for long moments afterward, still hardly able to believe what had happened. It was just sex. They’d both been very clear about that. Yet…the magic of his tender, amazing lovemaking left her feeling that Dylan intuitively understood what she wanted and needed in a way no one else ever had, or would. And that left her feeling oddly weak and susceptible. Odds were, vulnerable was not what Dylan wanted to see from her. Hence, this was her chance to prove how detached she could be, too. Adopting a studied, casual look, she extricated herself from his warm embrace, rose and began to dress.
As always, Dylan saw way more than she would have preferred. He lay where he was, arms folded behind his head, seeming to intuit her emotions were in turmoil, even though his expression was inscrutable, too. “What are you thinking?” he asked finally, his voice as casual as her demeanor.
Searching for a decidedly flip remark, Emily shrugged. “The obvious.” She flashed a flirtatious grin. “That you’re not just a horse whisperer. You’re a woman whisperer, too.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, her backhanded compliment only partially satisfying him. He regarded her with rueful contemplation, something hot and sensual shimmering in his eyes. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”
His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.
Emily glanced down and realized she had buttoned her shirt incorrectly. Dismayed by the evidence of her disquiet, she opened the fastenings and started all over again. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her fingers trembled as much as her voice.
He threw back the covers and walked toward her in all his naked glory. “You’re not the kind of woman who can get involved with someone or have an affair without asking them to commit to something for a lot longer term—and to change into what you need them to be.”
Emily sent him the kind of offhand glance meant to presage a quick and uncomplicated exit. She moved away. “That’s not true.”
“I think it is.” He sauntered closer, studying the turbulent emotion in her eyes. “I think you’re waiting for some guy to come in and let you change him as much as you want, without demanding anything of you in return. And the two of you will marry and live happily ever after.”
Emily kept her eyes above the waist. “I don’t think that way!”
He shook his head. “The look on your face just now says otherwise.”
More attracted to him than ever, Emily wiggled into her jeans. “I admit, I’ve never had an out-and-out fling before.”
Dylan pulled on his clothes and boots. He gave her the same look her parents gave her when they thought she needed to delve deeper into the workings of her heart. “How many boyfriends have you had?”
Emily picked up his brush and ran it through her hair. “Casual?” Meaning the kind she left with a kiss, at the door? “Tons.”
He frowned. “Serious.”
Emily sighed. “Two. One in college. One about four years ago.”
Dylan took her hand and led her toward the hall. “What happened?”
Emily followed him down the stairs. “The first one felt it was his duty as my significant other to try and control me.”
Dylan let go of her hand as they wandered into the kitchen. “I bet that went over well.”
“You can only imagine,” Emily admitted drily.
He looked in the fridge. “And the second?”
Emily lounged against the counter, observing the enticing play of muscles in his chest and shoulders beneath his shirt. Within her, desire started all over again.
Forcing herself to keep her mind on the conversation, she replied, “He couldn’t get along with my family.”
He set a smoked chicken from Sonny’s Barbeque on the counter. Added flour tortillas and a hunk of Colby-Jack. “Why not?”
Curious—because she had assumed Dylan couldn’t cook— Emily moved back to give him room to work. “Ridge liked his family better. He thought they were superior to mine, and he wanted us to spend all our time—every holiday and a lot of other weekends, as well—with them.”
Dylan added olive oil to a cast-iron skillet. “Doesn’t sound fair.”
“It wasn’t.” Emily paced while Dylan chopped up an onion and green pepper and added those to the skillet, too. “I tried to get Ridge to be reasonable about the situation—to at least divide the extended-family time fifty-fifty, but he wouldn’t budge, so that ended that.” The kitchen quickly filled with a delicious aroma.
“And since then…”
“There’s been no one serious.” Emily hadn’t wanted to get hurt. “I haven’t wanted to put myself out there, emotionally, unless I knew everything else was falling into line, that we were going to be compatible in all the ways that mattered, even if that meant one…or both of us…had to change.”
Dylan wrapped the tortillas in foil and set them in the oven to heat. “And you were willing to do that,” he murmured, as he grated the cheese.
Emily nodded. “Sometimes the guys were, too. But ultimately, that didn’t work, either, because if you have to make yourself over to be with someone…you sort of start questioning if it’s worth it.”
Dylan brought out some premade guacamole, pico de gallo and sour cream. “I can understand that.”
“Anyway, I got frustrated with working so hard on a personal life and failing, so two years ago I decided to start pouring all my energy into my career.”
Dylan added smoked chicken to the sizzling vegetables. “And that’s when you started the café.”
Emily nodded, edging closer to the stove. She watched as he gave the ingredients a stir. “And then, it became my baby,” she said softly. “So to speak.”
Dylan brought out two bottles of cold dark beer. Emily set the table. Minutes later, they sat down to eat their smoked-chicken tacos. Emily was pleased to find the pulled-together feast was every bit as delicious as it looked.
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