His.
Rance braced himself against the notion, yanked on his T-shirt, and stuffed his feet into flip-flops.
And then Rance did the only thing he’d ever done where Deanie Codge was concerned.
He walked away.
“I TOLD YOU HE’D COME.” Erica turned a smile on Rance when he approached the group gathered on the dock. Every gaze swiveled toward him and a handful of smiles erupted.
“This is Rachel and Buster.” Erica started introducing the young men and women who surrounded her. They were all young—early twenties maybe. They looked typical of the radical sports set with their trendy hair and multiple piercings. “Carrie and Sue.” She pointed to two women who wore navy blue wet suits. One had a buzz cut with a dozen earrings lining one ear, while the other wore her long hair in dozens of tiny braids. A stud glittered from her nose.“And this is my boyfriend, Zee,” Erica added as she pointed to the young man just to her left. Where the others had been all smiles and eager hand shakes, the tall, muscular blonde—the ends of his short, spiked hair died a dark black—merely gave a quick nod.
“Zee’s the best wakeboarder on the island,” Erica went on. “That is, until you arrived. Man-o-man, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“It’s an honor, Mr. McGraw,” Buster said, stepping forward. “You’re, like, my idol, dude. I saw you dive into those sharks last year when you did that freestyle skiing competition in Hawaii. Awesome. Totally awesome.”
“There are plenty of sharks around these waters,” Zee said as he zipped up the vest of his wetsuit. “We’re neck deep in them all the time.”
“You totally rocked in the base jumping finals over in Peru.” The comment came from one of the women. “You made even the hardest jump look easy.”
“Thanks,” Rance said. “It’s all about staying focused and—”
“We do some base jumping over by the cliffs,” Zee cut in, obviously not the least bit interested in Rance’s advice. He popped open a can of sex wax and started to rub down his board. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“That snake wrangling thing last year was way rad,” Carrie said. “I watched it on ESPN with my brother,” she motioned to Buster “and the both of us nearly peed our pants. But you were cool, man. You didn’t even flinch, much less look scared.”
Obviously, Zee hadn’t done much snake wrangling, because he didn’t comment. Instead, he shoved the lid onto the can of wax, picked up his board and said, “Are we going to stand here on the dock and run our mouths all day, or are we going to thrash some waves?”
“He takes his waves seriously,” Erica told Rance once Zee had climbed into the boat and out of earshot.
“He should. That’s what it takes to make a winner.”
Rance knew that firsthand because he’d always taken things seriously. He’d approached each and every competition with the serious intent of winning, and he always had.
Until now.
Like hell, buddy.
Okay, so he’d stopped giving it his all some time ago, but he’d managed to fake it because he was a competitor by nature and so he’d kept up his winning streak. He knew how to intimidate his opponents and how to keep his game face. He’d learned that early on when he’d tackled steers with Clay. It was all about showing the other guy who was boss and acting before your opponent could react. He’d relied on speed and stamina and heart.
An image of Deanie pushed into his head, but he pushed it right back out. He wasn’t getting sidetracked, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting a few doubts undermine the career he’d spent a lifetime building. While each competition seemed harder and harder—and much more outrageous—he wasn’t going to let it undermine his determination. The key was not to give up.
Not to walk away.
No matter how much his gut ached to do just that.
Rance summoned the competitive nature that had lived and breathed inside of him for so long and stepped onto the boat. He took the spare wet suit Erica retrieved from a compartment near the stern of the boat and headed for the small cabin. A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed and ready for action.
He was ready, he told himself. Even if the notion of climbing into the water and onto the board didn’t stir even a quarter of the excitement it once had.
He was tired. Exhausted. In a good way, of course—the sex had been incredible. But exhausted just the same. Of course, he wouldn’t be into it as intensely as someone like, say, Zee, who’d probably had a full night’s sleep.
The boat roared to life and they headed for open water. Fifteen minutes later, they slowed to an idle. Zee dropped over the side of the boat with his wakeboard. Erica took her place behind the wheel, revved the gas and the boat roared to life.
Behind them, Zee climbed onto the small surfing apparatus, knees bent, arms tight as he gripped the rope that trailed from the back of the boat. The boat quickly took up the rope’s slack and jerked it tight. Water kicked up and so did Zee as he held on and trailed behind.
The speed increased and Zee went into action.
He veered this way and that. He rocked onto his side and flipped up into the air and proved beyond a doubt why the locals considered him the best. He was every bit as good as Rance had once been.
Maybe even better.
Like hell. That should have been his first thought. That had always been the first thought whenever he’d seen someone better or stronger or hungrier.
Not anymore.
Because you’re just not that into it. It isn’t your passion. It never has been.
The truth echoed in his head as the boat slowed to a halt again. Zee raised a victory hand before jumping off the board into the calming water and excitement echoed among the group.
“Kick ass!”
“That’s the way to do it!”
“Totally rad!”
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Erica left the engine idling and came up beside Rance.
“Very good.”
“You should see him on a surfboard. Or skis. Or with a parasail. You name it, he can do it. We all can,” she added. “Just not quite as good as him.”
“Is that right?” Rance eyed the young man and an idea struck.
A crazy idea that he dismissed immediately.
Zee, board under one arm, swam the few feet to the back of the boat and hauled himself up the ladder. He gave Rance a smug, bring-it-on look before taking his place behind the boat’s wheel and gunning the engine for the next person.
“Why don’t you hit the water?” Erica’s eyes danced with excitement. “We’d love to see you in action.”
“You guys go first.” He motioned to the handful of people around him. “Then I’ll do my thing.” He would, he told himself, no matter how his muscles ached or how tired he felt. A little wakeboarding was sure to pump him up for the flight to Australia and the competition that awaited him.
And if it didn’t?
It didn’t matter. He was still going. Regardless of the fact that his heart wasn’t in it anymore and he couldn’t stop thinking about Deanie and he had a sudden hankering for his aunt Lurline’s blueberry cobbler.
Rance McGraw couldn’t just piss it all away.
“SO THAT’S IT? You’re just going to piss it all away? Just like that?” Shank asked when Rance called him later that morning.
It was close to ten o’clock and Rance sat in the lobby of the hotel where he’d been for the past few hours trying to work out the details of the crazy idea he’d had earlier while watching Zee and the others. An energy drink sat on the table next to him, courtesy of one of the numerous hotel staff that hustled around him. The place had already come to life. Guests walked here and there, some headed for the pool, others for the beach.Deanie wasn’t among them.
She was still curled up in his bed, sound asleep. He’d checked on her after he’d finished with Erica and Zee. He’d been anxious to share his latest brainstorm, but she’d looked so peaceful and content that he’d merely tucked the sheet aroun
d her and given her a soft, lingering kiss.
They would have plenty of time to talk once he’d worked out all the details.
“I’m not pissing anything away,” Rance told his business partner. “I’m stepping down as spokesperson for Extreme Dream and letting you take full control of the company. I’ll be a silent partner.” His voice grew softer, more serious. “I can’t do it anymore, Shank. I don’t want to do it. I want to go home.”
Silence settled on the line before Shank finally spoke. “Well, it’s about damned time.”
“I don’t mean to leave you high and dry. I’ve already worked out a deal for a new spokesperson, or rather, a team of them—what did you say?”
“I said it’s about damned time. I’m sick of seeing you live out of a suitcase. Sure, it’s been good for business. As your partner, I can’t complain. But as your friend, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to fire your ass and hire someone else because you were too stubborn to at least slow down a little.”
“How come you never said anything?”
“Would it have done any good?” Without waiting for a reply, Shank went on. “You forget that I’ve known you a helluva long time. Now tell me about this extreme dream team you’ve got planned that’s going to make us both even richer than we already are…”
WHEN DEANIE finally forced her eyes open, sunlight streamed through the window. Her thighs ached and her nipples tingled as she forced herself to a sitting position. She blinked once, twice against the fog of sleep and then glanced at the clock.
Her gaze didn’t make it past the cowboy hat that sat on the nightstand. The previous night rushed at her.Sex, she told herself as the images played in her head.
But truthfully, it had been more.
The proof lay in the way her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded when she remembered. And the sudden rush of loneliness that swamped her as she stared at the empty spot next to her.
It was a feeling she knew all too well.
No!
Panic gripped her and pumped her heart faster. Deanie bolted to her feet and rushed around the room, searching frantically for her clothes. She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes and fought to get a grip on the emotion pushing and pulling inside her.
She wasn’t doing this again.
There would be no falling apart, no moping around, no feeling her heart shatter into a million pieces because her heart was not—repeat not—involved. Last night had been wonderful, but it was over. She was going to handle the situation like a mature adult, get herself together, and get the hell out of Rance’s room before he came back and made her decision that much harder.
When he touched her, he stirred too many memories and she started to fall in love with him all over again.
Fall, mind you. She wasn’t actually in love.
Not completely.
Not yet.
Which meant she could still get out of the situation without making a complete idiot of herself.
Yanking on her clothes, Deanie slipped from his room and headed down the hallway for the elevator.
With her shoes dangling from one hand, she punched the elevator button and prayed with all of her heart when the doors finally opened that she wouldn’t come face-to-face with him.
Obviously someone upstairs was listening because the doors slid open and no Rance.
Instead, Deanie found herself staring at a very old, very naked man.
RANCE HAD NEVER felt better in his entire life.
He decided as much when he hung up the phone with Romeo’s one and only real estate attorney. Not only had Rance found the woman of his dreams but, as of five seconds ago, he’d offered an obscene amount of money to the new owner of Romeo’s old rodeo arena and taken the first official step back home.Excitement pulsed through him as he headed through the lobby toward the gift shop to pick up something for Deanie.
He was just about to turn when someone let out a shriek. He whirled just in time to see a woman sprint past him. She had snow white hair and pale skin.
A lot of pale skin.
From her head to her toes, and every naked inch in between.
“That’s her!” someone shouted. “That’s the streaker!”
A half dozen security guards bounded through the lobby after her, but they were too late. She’d already disappeared through the double glass doors.
Rance quickly found himself rounded up as one of the witnesses and ushered toward the security office.
He was just about to pull open the door when someone pushed it open from the inside.
“Deanie.”
At the sound of her name, her head jerked up and her gaze collided with his. Joy flashed in her green eyes for one fast, furious heartbeat and Rance felt his own heart kick into action.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“I’m about to give a statement. That streaker damn near ran me over in the lobby.”
“I saw him, too. All of him this time. But it was on the elevator. I just gave a description.”
“Him? But it was a her.” Not that it mattered. All that mattered was the woman standing in front of him. “I really need to talk to you—”
“Can you two do this later?” The tall, beefy head of security came up behind Rance and motioned him inside the office. “I’ve got a lot of people to talk to.”
“Just a second,” Rance told the man. “This is important. Deanie.” He turned back to her. “About last night—”
“You shouldn’t keep Mr. H. waiting,” she blurted. “The sooner he can catch this guy, the safer everyone will be.”
“Guy? It’s a woman, honey.”
“Whatever. Look, you go on and do what you need to do.”
“But I just want to say—”
“We’ll talk later,” she cut in. “Go. I’ve got to get going myself. I’ve got a few things to do.” She darted past him and headed for the elevator.
“Meet me in my hotel room.”
She didn’t answer or spare him another glance.
An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Rance’s stomach and he had the crazy urge to run after her, haul her into his arms and kiss her goodbye.
Goodbye?
It wasn’t goodbye. Not this time. Rance McGraw wasn’t going anywhere except right back where he belonged, and he was taking Deanie Codge with him.
After last night, he had no doubt that she still had feelings for him. And now she knew he had feelings for her. It was just a matter of working out the details.
DEANIE HANDED what little she had over to the concierge and tried to calm the anxiety that had followed her since she’d run into Rance. And the guilt.
She hadn’t actually said she’d meet him, she reminded herself. She hadn’t said anything. She’d just rushed up to her own room, gathered her things and rushed back downstairs to check out before he finished his meeting with the security officer.Coward.
Maybe so. But she preferred the term self-preservationist. She glanced at her watch before chancing a look around. No Rance. No naked men. Just a very sad looking Savannah Sierra Ellington.
The young woman sat on a nearby sofa, her eyes red and swollen. Her cheeks puffy. Tiny black streaks of mascara trailed down her face.
“Savannah?” Deanie sank down next to the woman.
She glanced up, her blue eyes watery. As if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she smiled and wiped frantically at her face. “Hey, there…Deanie, isn’t it?”
Deanie nodded. “Are you okay?”
“Why, certainly.” She set the cell phone she’d been holding aside and pulled a tissue from her designer purse. “I’m just a little tired.”
“Big night last night?”
“You bet.” She pulled out a compact and flipped it open. “My word, would you look what the cat dragged in? It’s a shame what a dozen margaritas and a night of dancing will do to you.”
“So you had fun?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She hesi
tated as she stared into the mirror. “I’m single and carefree and I danced with oodles of men last night. I certainly don’t need that lowdown, no-good, two-timing boyfriend of mine.”
“The one who cancelled on you at the last minute?”
“That’s the one.” Her expression faltered and she stared at her hands. “It really wasn’t all that last minute. He hasn’t called in two weeks. That right there should have told me he wasn’t interested. But I kept telling myself he was just busy. Turns out, he’s a jerk.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged and tried for another smile. “But what the hey, right? Easy come, easy go. I’m not letting him mess up my vacation. There’s plenty more where he came from.”
That’s the trouble, Deanie thought as she watched Savannah pull a tissue from her purse, wipe her cheeks and head for the ladies’ room. There were plenty more jerks out there and Savannah would undoubtedly find another one before she could down her next margarita.
She’d find another and he would treat her bad because that’s how she expected to be treated. Despite her I’m-all-that attitude and her hot clothes, she didn’t feel all that hot deep down inside.
Deanie had seen the insecurity in her eyes when she’d stared into the compact mirror, and she’d recognized it.
Because Deanie had felt the same inadequacy.
The same longing to be good enough. Pretty enough. Woman enough.
“Your cab’s here.” The concierge’s voice drew her around and Deanie started for the front glass doors and the cab that had just pulled up to the curb.
A handsome man in his sixties, impeccably dressed in a designer suit, climbed out and pulled a money clip the size of Texas from his wallet just as Deanie pushed through the rotating doors. He peeled off a hundred dollar bill, murmured “Keep the change,” to the driver and turned to run smack-dab into Deanie.
“Excuse me,” he exclaimed as her purse hit the ground, along with the small bag of clothes she’d purchased yesterday. “I didn’t see you.” He dropped to his knees at the same time that Deanie did to help her gather up her things. “I usually watch where I’m going, but I’m just so late.”
Tall, Tanned & Texan Page 14