Tall, Tanned & Texan

by Kimberly Raye

  He pushed to his feet and stepped toward her while she eyed him. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she finally asked. “What are you thinking?”

  “That it’s Friday night.”

  Realization seemed to dawn in her eyes and a grin played at her mouth. “It is Friday, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “And you’re not sitting home alone.” He took her hand in his. “Not this time.”

  Not ever, a voice whispered.

  Because Rance had the gut feeling that Deanie Codge just might be the one thing missing from his life.

  9

  “THIS PLACE IS BEAUTIFUL,” Deanie said as she and Rance approached the entrance to The Falls.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Rance barely resisted the urge to capture her slick, pouty lips in a kiss that would surely have them skipping dinner and going straight to the dessert. “Erica sent us,” Rance told the hostess, and recognition dawned.“You’re Rance McGraw.”

  He winked. “That’s me.”

  “Just a second, Mr. McGraw.” She picked up the microphone and pressed the on button. “Erica, please report to the hostess stand.”

  A few moments later, the bellhop appeared and gave Rance an it’s-all-good grin. “Right this way Mr. McGraw. We have your table waiting.” She grabbed two menus off the top of the stack and motioned for them to follow.

  Rance cupped Deanie’s elbow to steady her as she navigated the path in her man-killer shoes. The heat from her body seeped into his fingertips and stirred his hunger even more, and the muscles in his arms bunched and tightened. His groin throbbed.

  He was this close to losing it, but the tremble of her body as she took each step reminded him that he had to take things slow. She wasn’t nearly the sex goddess she appeared to be, and while Rance meant to seduce her to the point of no return, he had no intention of scaring her off before he could do it.

  Breathe, he told himself. Just hold up and breathe.

  The trouble with that bit of advice was that every draft of air he drank in smelled of sweet vanilla and honey and her.

  For a split second, the past pulled him back and he remembered the first time he’d really noticed the scent. Deanie had been in the eighth grade and he’d been a junior at Romeo High.

  They’d gone to different schools, but they’d still ridden the same bus the long distance home every day. He’d taken to sitting with Sandra Whatshername who’d been the head cheerleader back then and queen of the daring divas—the pretty, popular girls who’d had a thing for sexy clothes, lots of makeup and big hair. It was common knowledge that they’d gone through cans of Aqua Net faster than Mr. Gantry, the local pharmacist, could keep it in stock. In fact, rumor had it that the divas alone were responsible for the beachfront retirement condo he’d purchased down in Fort Lauderdale a few years back.

  Deanie had been younger and as far from a daring diva as a girl could get. He’d realized that the day Sandra had been sick and he’d ended up sitting next to Deanie on the bus—she’d saved him a seat as usual.

  It had been early September and hotter than Hell on a Saturday night. The bus window had stuck and so he’d reached around Deanie—who’d been sitting next to the window—to help her slide the glass down. Her hair had brushed his jaw—brushed, not scratched—and he’d inhaled the sweet scent of Miss Myrtle’s homemade honey shampoo. He’d drank in a few deep breaths and the aroma had stayed with him long after he’d climbed off the bus and walked the winding road to the ranch house.

  His nostrils flared and the familiar scent filled his head again. For all the changes she’d made, she was obviously still using the homemade stuff that was still bottled and sold at the local pharmacy. His fingers itched to reach out now and feel the long strands spill through his fingers.

  But as tempted as he was, he wanted more than just to be inside of Deanie’s sweet body. He wanted inside her head. Her heart.

  Now wait a minute. Wait just a damned minute.

  The lust eating him up from the inside out had nothing to do with her heart and everything to do with her hot little body accented by the revealing sundress. It wasn’t as if Rance wanted to fall in love and settle down. He had places to go and things to see. Christ, he wasn’t even sure he believed in the concept. Sure, he’d lusted after women. But love? He’d never loved any woman.

  Except maybe this one.

  The notion lingered in his head as he guided Deanie through a maze of tables situated here and there around the lush lagoon. Water plunged over a wall of rocks and fed the pool in a steady stream.

  Deanie paused at the last table, as if she expected to be seated. But Erica motioned for them to keep following her, around a huge potted palm toward a door cut into the rocks just to the side of the waterfall. An Employees Only sign had been posted. The hostess glanced behind them as if to make sure that no one was looking, pulled a small key from her pocket and unlocked the large dead bolt that barred the entrance.

  A few seconds later, she led them through a small tunnel lit by a single overhead bulb. The whooshing noise grew louder as they navigated the walkway that opened into a large, cavelike room directly behind the waterfall.

  When Erica had told him this was the most romantic spot on the island, he’d been skeptical. Hell, it was a cave. Naturally, he’d envisioned dark and dank and loud.

  He’d been wrong.

  The waterfall created a shimmering curtain, accented by colored spotlights on the other side. It was thick enough that the restaurant patrons seemed little more than indistinguishable blurs. The only thing visible was the candlelight that glittered from the center of each table, a reminder of the world that existed just beyond the rushing veil of water. White linen draped the single table that had been set up in the center of the room. Elaborate settings of china and crystal sparkled in the dim light. The plates steamed with fresh vegetables and rice. A pair of matching steaks overflowed a platter surrounded by freshly cut mangoes and pineapples chunks. A bottle of wine chilled nearby in a silver ice bucket.

  “The locals used to slip in and out of here on a pretty regular basis,” Erica told them. As loud as the waterfall seemed, she didn’t have to raise her voice. It echoed off the walls, making the noise seem little more than a steady murmur. “But then Mr. Castellano—he’s the owner of Escapades—found out. He had a door built over the opening and now he keeps the entrance padlocked.” She smiled and held up the key. “But my boyfriend’s sister dates the restaurant manager who’s in charge of changing the lightbulbs on the spotlights attached to the rocks. There’s no other way to do that except through here.”

  “This is the only key that I know of, so no one should disturb you.” She handed Rance the piece of metal. “Just throw the dead bolt behind me and enjoy.”

  “Thanks,” Rance told the young woman as he left Deanie staring openmouthed at the elaborate table and followed Erica back through the short tunnel.

  “No problem, Mr. McGraw. I owe you.”

  “For an autographed T-shirt?” He shook his head. “I’m the one who owes you. Everything looks great.” He moved to retrieve his wallet from his shorts, but she waved him away.

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Hope glimmered in her eyes. “For you to come and watch us ride in the morning, maybe give us a few pointers. You don’t know how totally bitchin’ it would be to have the USA wakeboard champion give us advice.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She grinned and left. Rance threw the dead bolt behind her and turned to head back to Deanie. He found her staring at the curtain of water, her back to him.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like you,” he murmured as he came up behind her. “You look really great.”

  “Funny what a difference a new dress can make. If you’d told me five years ago that I would be standing here, wearing a get-up like this, I would have knocked you on your ass.” Sh
e paused. “I mean butt.”

  “Don’t tell me, ultra-femme women don’t say ass.”

  “I’m sure they do, but the only ultra-femme female I’ve ever actually known didn’t. And she would have washed my mouth out with soap if she’d have heard me say it.” She smiled. “My grandmother was something. I miss her, but I never really realized how much until lately.”

  “I miss my parents, too.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, except he felt it at that moment and it seemed only natural that he tell Deanie.

  Hell, even when he didn’t tell her, she knew.

  She knew him. Now, just as she had back then.

  “You miss your home, too,” she said as if she read his thoughts.

  “I don’t get over to Austin nearly as much as I used to,” he said, referring to the two-story colonial he’d bought near Lake Travis the year before. “I still have boxes stacked in the game room.”

  “Not that home. Romeo. The Iron Horse.” She cast a sideways glance at him. “You miss it.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He finally shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “It’s okay. I miss it, too. Not enough to go back, but I still miss it. I didn’t realize how much until today when Miss Margie called me. And then Miss Judy. I feel bad leaving them.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I have to. I need to get away.”

  “You mean, you need to run away.”

  “I’m not running away from anything. I’m going to something. Something much better than what I left behind.”

  “That’s what I always thought, too.”

  What he’d convinced himself to be the gospel truth. Truthfully, he’d left for a football career because it had been his one and only ticket out of Romeo at a time when he’d been desperate to leave and escape his grandfather’s grief. The old man had turned his back on Rance and his brothers and pushed them away from the time Rance’s parents had died, until the boys had graduated high school. And then he’d stopped pushing because all three boys had run on their own.

  The oldest of the triplets, Josh, had left to get his pilot’s license and open a charter service in Arizona. Mason, the middle McGraw, had pursued the rodeo circuit where he’d won title after title before taking his winnings and opening his own ranch management consulting group. And Rance had busted his ass playing a sport he didn’t really love because he’d been good at it and he’d been able to pick the college of his choice.

  He’d known he would never make it out of Romeo by wrestling steers. While the sport earned some decent prize money, the real cash had been in bull riding. Rance had settled for the next best thing—busting heads out on the football field. It had been hard at first, but eventually he’d stopped missing the steer wrestling all together.

  At least that’s what he’d told himself.

  What he was still telling himself.

  He just wasn’t so sure he believed it anymore. The rush of adrenaline that came with each competition was less potent and more fleeting. Not to mention, the events were getting more outlandish and over the top. Today alligator wrestling in Australia. Tomorrow? He wouldn’t be surprised to find himself surfing the middle of a hurricane or battling a group of crazed women shoppers at a Victoria’s Secret Semiannual Sale.

  It wasn’t the danger that bothered him. It was the craziness of it all. A craziness that just didn’t make his heart pound as fiercely as it once had.

  Not like it was pounding right now with Deanie standing so close. Feeling so warm. Smelling so sweet.

  “Have you ever thought about moving back to Romeo?” She asked him the one question he’d been asking himself since he’d broken his leg.

  He’d gone back home on purpose. To remind himself what a dried up place it was and how bored he would be sitting around listening to his great-aunt Lurline and great-uncle Eustess argue about everything from the Jerry Springer Show to the perfect temperature to reheat oatmeal.

  Bor-ing.

  Only it hadn’t felt that way. He’d sat on the porch in the evening, the sun setting just on the horizon, the crickets buzzing around him, Eustess and Lurline arguing up a storm just a few feet away, and it had felt familiar. And warm. And right.

  Just like now.

  “Have you?” she prodded.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Not me. I’m never going back.”

  “To Romeo, or to the old Deanie?” The one who’d lived and breathed in his memories for so long.

  “Both.” Before he could ask her another question, she turned. “So what is all this for?”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Well, yes. But I’m not missing the aphrodisiac foods workshop. That isn’t until next week.”

  “This isn’t about food. It’s about Using Your Environment,” he recited the name of the second workshop. “It’s about letting everything around you heighten your sexual experience.”

  Hope lit her eyes. “So we’re going to have a sexual experience?” Finally, her gaze seemed to add and he couldn’t help but smile.

  “First we’re going to eat.” He pulled out a chair and motioned her to sit.

  “Just eating?” She eyed him before she sank into the chair.

  “And soaking up the atmosphere.” He seated himself across from her, reached for the bottle of wine and proceeded to pour them each a glass. “Sex isn’t just about the main event. It’s about bringing your senses alive. That’s what this place is for. It sets the mood for what comes next.” He popped a piece of pineapple into his mouth and chewed so slowly that it made her visibly swallow.

  “Right now, we’re going to enjoy that mood,” he went on. He licked his lips and tasted the pineapple. His stomach grumbled for more. For her. “And then,” he added, his gaze capturing hers, “we’ll be moving on to The Power Of Touching, and we’ll be enjoying each other.”

  “I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THIS,” Deanie said an hour later as Rance used a fresh linen napkin to fashion a blindfold over her eyes.

  “Number three is all about touching. You don’t need to see a thing. Just feel.” His hands dropped to her shoulders. His fingertips played down her arms and a shiver worked its way up her spine.The semi darkness made the hot play of his hands that much more intense as they traveled back up her arms, down her shoulder blades to the plunging back of her sundress. He unfastened the buttons, peeled the dress down her shoulders, and then she felt the soft cotton of his T-shirt against her bare back. His hands slid around her ribs and came up to cup her trembling breasts. She sagged against him and her head fell back onto his shoulder.

  He caught her nipples between his fingers and rolled the sensitive nubs until a gasp parted her lips. Then he moved on, down, and smoothed his palm down her belly to where her dress had caught at her hips. Hooking his fingers beneath the material, he worked it over her bottom and pushed it down the length of her legs until she stepped free.

  “You took my advice,” he finally murmured. His voice came from in front of her this time.

  He didn’t pull her to him the way she expected. The way she’d been anticipating over the past hour as they’d eaten and talked and eyed each other across the small table. The cavelike room was massive, but it seemed cozy and intimate with Rance filling up her line of vision and watching her every movement. By the time the meal had ended, she’d been ready to jump him.

  Thankfully, he’d grabbed the linen napkin and initiated the next workshop.

  The heat of his body drew her and she knew he was right in front of her. Close. But not close enough.

  Her breath caught when she felt a fingertip at her belly button. The rough pad slid south in a slow, torturous trek that caught the air in her lungs and held it there until he reached the small triangle of curls between her legs. “You left off the panties.”

  “No…I mean, yes. But not on purpose. I forgot them when I grabbed my stuff and went into the bathroom. We left so fast after that that I didn’t have a chance to put them on.”

&
nbsp; He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, the sound of her own heart thundered in her ears.

  “How did it feel without them?” he finally asked.

  “Weird.” The word was little more than a sigh as he slid one finger down and parted her slick folds. “At, um, first.”

  “And after that?”

  “Exciting.” She felt the rush of wetness between her legs as he stroked her. She licked her lips and wondered how much she should tell him. But then he grazed her clitoris and the words tumbled out on a gasp. “I could feel the dress against my bare bottom.” She drew a breath and licked her lips. “With each step. Pulling this way and pushing that way.”

  “Rubbing you?” While he played her with one hand, the other slid around to stroke her butt cheek. “Here?” She nodded. “And what about here?” He moved his finger back and forth in her slick folds. “What did it feel like?”

  “It felt…sexy. I felt sexy.” The admission was out before she could stop it. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel any regret. It was the blindfold, she told herself. It leant a sense of anonymity to the situation. He didn’t see her and she didn’t see him, and so there was no embarrassment.

  “You are sexy, Deanie. With or without panties.”

  Before the comment could sink in, he pulled away. She heard the clink of dishes, the rustle of linen and then he caught her hands. She felt the hard edge of the table press into her bottom. Hard, hot hands urged her down until she was totally stretched out.