by Grey, Helen
Despite scolding myself and telling my brain to quit comparing me with the women fawning over him, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, Blake had taken advantage of me. That he had taken advantage of a situation where he found himself alone with a woman. Any woman. And the more I tried to talk myself out of that vein of thought, the worse those thoughts became.
Dammit! My normally self-confident mien quickly transformed into self-doubt and disappointment. Even while I wondered if Blake and I could ever develop a serious relationship, given that the situation and circumstances were right, I realized I was just being stupid. The circumstances would never be right. Blake and I could never develop anything. We were too far apart. Besides, falling for him was not part of my assignment. I was not here to like him or dislike him. I was not here to approve or disapprove of him. I was here to follow him around as he inspected his properties. I was here to get a story. I determined then and there that I would get the story, and nothing but the story. So help me God.
On the way out of the parking lot, I remained relatively quiet. I did turn to Blake with a smile. “Thank you for taking me with you,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a county fair, let alone a rodeo. I had a great time.”
He grinned at me in return, making my heart skip a beat. My stomach filled with butterflies. At this rate, I think I would rather have him scowling and in a bad mood, because the alternative was the sexual attraction and desire I felt for him every time I saw that grin. It undermined my focus. We were about halfway back to the cabin before he spoke.
“You’re a million miles away,” he said. “No questions?”
I turned to him, eyebrow raised. “You want more questions? Does that mean you’re not sending me away?”
He glanced at me, stared a moment, and then returned his attention to the road ahead. “Odd as it may seem, Misty, I’m rather enjoying your company.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said wryly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, once again turning to me with a grin. “I mean that I’m not regretting this as much as I thought I would.” He was quiet for a second, then shook his head. “I don’t usually stick my foot in my mouth like this. That came out wrong.”
I smiled. “No need to explain,” I said, taking pity. “I feel much the same way.”
“You weren’t looking forward to interviewing me?”
I decided that honesty was the best policy. “To tell you the truth, Blake, I didn’t know what to expect from you. My friend at the magazine offered a little bit of information, and I found some more on the Internet, but other than that and the brief bio that my editor gave me, I know nothing about you.” I paused for several moments. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to spend more than a few hours with you. Certainly not flying around in a helicopter, going four-wheeling, or… other stuff,” I finished softly.
“You enjoyed the rodeo, didn’t you?”
I brightened. “I did,” I said, turning slightly in my seat so I could face him. “I even feel a little homesick. It’s odd, because I haven’t felt homesick since I got to San Francisco. But being at the rodeo, around all the sights, the smells, and the events… it just brought back a lot of memories of my childhood.”
“You had a good childhood, didn’t you?” He asked, his gaze focused on the road as we headed up into the hills.
I nodded. “I did. My parents spoiled me rotten, but not to the point where I was a brat or anything. At least I don’t think I was.”
He offered a chuckle.
“What about your parents? Did you have a good childhood?”
He didn’t answer right away, and I began to feel that he wouldn’t. Finally, he offered a shrug. “Yes, I did. I had a good relationship with my parents. My dad was away a lot, but my mom was always home. You might find this hard to believe, but she’s a rather old-fashioned creature. She was never ashamed or self-conscious to define herself as a stay-at-home-mom or a housewife. She worked hard every day. She took care of my dad, me, made a lot of the decisions involved with running the ranch… you could say that she was an all-around groundskeeper, landscaper, interior decorator, cook, chauffeur, nurse, you name it.”
“She sounds wonderful. Just like my mom. They probably would have liked each other.”
Again, he said nothing. I wondered if his mom was still alive. What happened to her after her husband died? She disappeared just as completely as Blake had. Had they gone away together? For how long? I wanted to ask, but at the same time didn’t. It was my job, my goal, but after seeing Blake ride at the rodeo today, I was having second thoughts. Was it really that important?
If Blake had been under suspicion of killing his father, chances were that the police would still be in contact with him. They weren’t. There had been nothing mentioned about it during all the intervening years actually, until his ex brought it back into focus.
“You did great at the rodeo today,” I said. “Do you get a chance to ride often?”
“Not as much as I used to.”
“Were you a regular on the circuit?”
“For a couple of years, yeah. Then I started to get busier, and my business pulled me away from it. When I can though, I ride. It helps to keep me grounded.”
I had to ask. “But why risk your life for such a small amount of money? You don’t need it—”
“I don’t keep any of my winnings.”
“What? What do you do with them?”
“Donate them to charities.” He lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, it keeps me grounded.”
Well, was there no end to learning such things about Blake? He donated his winnings to charity? Admirable. And while I could certainly think of better and safer ways to keep grounded, to each his own. Maybe I would ask him about that after dinner tonight. I fully intended to ask him more questions. Whether he would answer them or not was the question.
I knew that if I wanted to find out more about his father, or his life after his dad’s death, I would have to tread carefully. I would have to lead him into talking about it. I couldn’t make it seem as if that’s all I wanted to know. And to be honest, it wasn’t. I found myself intrigued by him. What made him tick? Who was he, underneath that gruff exterior, that outdoor adventurer? Was he really a loner, or did he keep people at arm’s length for a reason?
That thought gave me pause. Maybe he pushed people away so that he wouldn’t have to feel their curiosity about his father. And when it came right down to it, I realized that that would be a pretty sad way to live. To have to adjust your life and the way you lived it just to maintain a sense of privacy.
He said nothing more and we drove the remainder of the way back to the cabin in silence. More than once, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about last night? Was he wondering if something would happen tonight? Did he want it to? Did I? While I certainly couldn’t deny that he had given me pleasure, and I liked to think that I had given him pleasure in return, what was the point? Why even go there?
“What’s next?” I finally asked as he pulled into the drive leading to the cabin. I eyed the black, sleek helicopter and stared at it as we drove past it.
He glanced at me just before he pulled the truck into the shed. “What do you mean?”
Had I imagined that sound of alarm in his voice? Had he misunderstood what I meant? “I mean, are we going to be here tomorrow or do you have some place else to go?”
“Some place else to go,” he replied, shutting off the engine. The vehicle made several cooling noises and the interior illuminated as he opened the door, but I still couldn’t see his face. “You’re free to come along with me if you’d like, or you can go back to San Francisco. Your choice.”
Well, it certainly didn’t sound like he was interested in a repeat performance. I shook my head as I climbed out of the truck. Was I going to question everything he said from now on? Looking for double meanings? Ridiculous.
As we stepped out of the shed into the waning light of day,
I turned to him. “How about I make dinner for you tonight? Turnaround’s fair play, right?”
He nodded. “Have at it.”
I didn’t waste time trying to figure out why he was suddenly so quiet, why the expression on his face appeared so somber.
“You get the dishes.”
CHAPTER 9
Blake
I was in a contemplative mood as I followed Misty into the cabin. I watched the way her hips swayed gently as she took the steps to the front door. I could tell she was feeling better today and that her fall from the four-wheeler hadn’t injured her too badly. The liniment last night must’ve helped. And maybe… no, I didn’t want to go there. I was having enough trouble as it was.
“I’m going to shower. You can use anything you find in the pantry or in the fridge,” I said, heading for the stairs as she continued down the hallway toward the kitchen.
She said nothing. I was a little sore from the ride this afternoon, but I also felt cleansed. Not in the typical sense, but in the sense that I had managed to ground myself, if only for a little while. There was nothing quite as thrilling as riding a bucking bronco, nor anything I enjoyed much more, despite the numerous aches and pains and the occasional broken bone that resulted. I would always be a cowboy at heart. I’d grown up on a ranch, lived the life of a rancher’s son, and now, in my pursuit of building an adventure empire, I had the opportunity to enjoy a number of outdoor activities.
Nevertheless, I most preferred life on a ranch, working with horses. Distracting myself, relieving the stress of business negotiations, as well as the expectations of my board members was something I needed to do every once in a while. Grounding myself kept me on track. Made me realize what I was doing and why. As I mentioned to Misty, it wasn’t just about the money.
I needed to do what I did. While I couldn’t explain why exactly, it was part of who I was. As I reached the top of the stairs and headed for my room, I frowned. My thoughts kept drifting back to the woman downstairs. I felt confused, not only by my intense attraction to her, but by what I was going to do about it. What was I going to do about it? I shook my head as I entered my room and closed the door behind me. I wouldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t need the complications of any relationship right now.
She was here to do her job. Nothing more and nothing less. Then why had she allowed me… no, why had I practically seduced her last evening? Because I could? Because we had the place all to ourselves? Because she was nothing more than a convenient opportunity? No. I wasn’t some horny teenager. I knew better. As I sat down on the bed, I tried to examine my motives, but kept going in circles.
As I undressed, my thoughts went round and round. Did I want a relationship with Misty? No. I didn’t want a relationship with anybody. Hell, I wasn’t even officially out of my last one. Not only did I not have time for it, but I didn’t have the energy. At least not now. I tried to convince myself of that, but even I knew it was lame. Besides, I was wary about relationships following my breakup with Celine. Not the love part. I realized a long time ago that I hadn’t so much loved Celine as I was infatuated with her. Bedazzled by her beauty and her sexual experience.
But I wanted more from a woman. I wanted someone with whom I could feel completely free with, someone I could talk to about my most private thoughts. I wasn’t an especially emotional person, but one thing that I did find lacking in all of my relationships was that easy feeling of camaraderie, of friendship; that togetherness that I saw in other couples, including that of my best friend, Matt and his longtime live-in interest, Belinda.
I might be one of the richest men in the northwest and an up-and-coming billionaire and entrepreneur, but when you got right down to the nitty gritty, I envied my best friend and his relationship with his common-law wife. Would I ever find someone like that to share my life with, or was I doomed to superficial relationships that didn’t extend beyond the bedroom?
I muttered with impatience as I strode naked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Dammit, I didn’t usually bother with such musings. So what exactly was it about Misty that made me feel as if my life was suddenly lacking? I didn’t need a relationship to be successful. I didn’t need a relationship to make me feel complete. I was perfectly happy living on my own, doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. I didn’t need a woman in my life to validate me as a man.
And if I ever found a woman I wanted in my life, she wouldn’t be arm candy like Celine, that was for sure. If I ever got involved with a woman again, I wanted her to share the same likes. Misty might be game, but she wasn’t an inborn adventurer, at least she didn’t give me that impression. Sure, she grew up in North Dallas, but what did that tell me? She fell off a damn four-wheeler! Well, that was partly my fault, but I also chalked it up to inexperience.
Not that I was blaming her, far from it. Why was I even contemplating whether Misty would make good companion material? I stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to wash the dirt and grime of the rodeo arena and the smell of horse from my skin. I leaned forward, bracing my hands against the shower wall and dropped my head down, the water pounding on the back of my head, neck, and upper back. The water loosened the muscles of tension that had developed between my shoulder blades. Maybe it would also pound some sense into me.
As I glanced down, I also realized something else. Just the mere thought of Misty and the memory of her plump breasts and soft skin had given me a half-erection. Just the memory of the texture of her skin, the way she responded to me, the way she made me feel had my dick rising even faster.
I reached down and stroked my cock a few times, closing my eyes as I imagined her wrapping those luscious lips around it. I began to masturbate, my eyes closed, a half-smile on my lips, my penis fully erect now. That I could get a hard-on just thinking about Misty not only surprised, but confused me even more. Here I was, standing in the shower and I felt the need to jack off? Well, maybe doing so would prevent a repeat performance with Misty tonight.
Was she expecting something? Was I?
With every stroke, I remembered the feel of her hand wrapped around my cock, the firm pressure that was so gentle and stimulating at the same time. The sensation of her tongue as it slowly glided over my head, prompting exquisite responses of not only my genitals, but every cell in my body. She had gotten under my skin in more ways than one. I stiffened as I continued to stroke and then felt the release, the shower washing the evidence of my desire for the woman down the drain.
Shit.
I was in trouble and I knew it.
*
I could tell she was proud of herself for having concocted a surprisingly tasty supper from the canned goods in the pantry. Breaded pan fried salmon patties, boiled potatoes with packaged gravy, and homemade biscuits. Impressive. I complimented her ingenuity and the fluffiness of her biscuits. She blushed.
“Thanks,” she grinned, popping the last bite of a biscuit into her mouth. Mine had nearly melted on my tongue.
She chewed a moment, then swallowed. “My mom taught me how to make biscuits when I was thirteen years old. Apparently, the recipe has been in my family for generations. Legend has it that it’s the same recipe one of my great-great-great-great grandmothers made along the wagon trail as they emigrated from Wisconsin down to Texas.”
“That’s where your family originally came from? Wisconsin?”
She nodded. “Yes, from what I gather, my ancestors came by ship from Germany and settled in Wisconsin. Then, after the Civil War, they relocated down to Texas.”
“Why?”
She glanced up at me. “Why what?”
“Why did they move from Wisconsin to Texas?”
She shook her head and made a face. “How the hell should I know?”
I laughed, until she asked her question. “Where did your family come from?”
“Kansas.” I leaned back in the chair I had pulled up to the coffee table in the living area.
“Always Kansas? They had to get ther
e from somewhere, didn’t they?”
“Do I look like a genealogist to you?” I countered.
She wrinkled her nose at me. “I’m not asking for a detailed description, Blake. It’s an innocent question. You asked me, didn’t you?”
I was too touchy. Just because she asked a simple question didn’t mean she had ulterior motives. But then, what else could I expect? I knew I was extremely sensitive talking about my past, recent or the ancient. I knew that. Sometimes it seemed to me that my past was all anyone wanted to talk about. The only questions they ultimately wanted answered.
Was Misty like the rest of the journalists I’d met? Like the other women I’d met? I shook my head. I should know better than that. I was underestimating her. At least I hoped so.
“Sorry,” I finally said. “As far as I know, my ancestors came from Pennsylvania. Where they emigrated from, I have no idea. For all I know, they landed with the Mayflower.”
She made a face. “Doubtful, Blake, or you would certainly know that your family was listed in the lineage of the Mayflower Society.”
“There is such a thing?”
“Of course,” she said, sitting back on the couch. “You have to be able to prove lineage from a Mayflower passenger and be approved by a historian general before you can qualify to even become a member of the General Society of Mayflower Descendants. It was founded around 1900, give or take a few years, I can’t remember.”
“A pretty exclusive group, I imagine.”
“Not nearly as much as you would think. Today, millions of people are descendants of the one-hundred-two passengers that boarded the ship, or at least I think I read that in a magazine article a while back.”
“Interesting,” I said, standing. “I’ll go do the dishes.” I moved to collect the plates.
She nodded and then asked the question I’d been dreading. “Can I ask you more questions after you’re done? Or are you going to shut me down again?”
My hands clutching the plates, I glanced at her. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”