Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2)

by Savanna Fox

  Spellbound, she read all of that on his face. She could also imagine him, bronzed body almost naked, powerful and graceful as he rode a board along a curling wave. “You, Ty Ronan, are a man of surprises.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a straightforward guy. But hey, enough about me. Tell me about you. How does a Hong Kong girl with a business degree decide to study art in Vancouver?”

  Flattered that he remembered what she’d told him Saturday, she said, “I’ve been coming to Vancouver since I was a kid. I’ve always wanted to study art, and I didn’t want to do it in Hong Kong. I wanted fresh influences.”

  “You’ve enjoyed your studies and living in Vancouver?”

  “Oh, yes, so much! I almost hate to go home.”

  “Then don’t.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know my parents.”

  “Meaning?”

  How could she possibly explain her parents and their expectations? With Henry, she hadn’t even had to try; he understood because his parents were the same. Searching for common ground, she said, “Your grandparents started a ranch? Well, my parents came to Hong Kong and started a business. Theirs is property management. They do it very well and keep expanding the properties they manage and also the ones they own. Chang Property Management is the family business, like Ronan Ranch. And when I say family, even the ancestors get dragged into it, though they’d never even been to Hong Kong. But the business is a matter of family pride, honor, and, according to my parents, destiny. If they had their way, there’d be no escape.”

  “Escape? You mean they want you to go into the business?”

  Why had she raised this subject? It always brought her down. “I’m an only child. It’s not want, it’s expect and demand.”

  He frowned. “I’m an only too, but parents don’t own their kids.”

  “Try telling them that.” How to explain this? “Your family has rodeo and ranching in their blood. What if you’d said you wanted to be—oh, I don’t know—a surfer?”

  He gave a startled laugh. “A surfer?”

  “You know. Something completely different. Something they don’t think is a serious way to make a living. It’s an okay hobby, but not a job. But, even more important, it means rejecting the family business. Rejecting the family, destroying their honor, shaming your ancestors.”

  “Jesus.” He stared at her disbelievingly. “Really?”

  “Culture shock, right? I know Western people have trouble relating to it.”

  “You have to live your own life,” he said firmly.

  Sadly, she shook her head. “That’s the last thing you’re supposed to do. It’s not your life. It’s your family’s.”

  “Family’s important and you should respect them, but that’s crazy.”

  When she didn’t answer, he reached across to take her hand. “Kim, do you believe all of that?”

  His hand, the hand of a near-stranger, felt like the only steady, secure thing she knew. She intertwined her fingers with his, wishing for a moment that she never had to let go. “Yes and no,” she answered softly. “It’s what I grew up with. Most of my friends from Hong Kong have the same kind of pressure. And yes, I believe in respect, loyalty, and honor. I love my parents. They’re wonderful and they’ve always been so good to me. And yet . . .” She glanced down, biting her lip.

  “Yet?” He squeezed her hand.

  She studied their linked hands, his so brown, so big and strong, hers so delicate. How could they fit together so perfectly and the bond feel so real? “Saturday night, we talked about how some people feel as if they’re born to do something. It’s in their blood, it’s the one right thing. Hockey, for George’s fiancé. Horses for you. For me, it’s art.”

  He frowned. “They want to take that away from you?”

  “No, but they treat it as a hobby. They want me to join the company, work the same long hours they do, invest all my energy in CPM. Mom’s sixty-four and Dad’s almost seventy. They want me to take over the company one day. There’d be no spare time for art. More than that, I think it’d kill the creative part of me.”

  “Like caging a butterfly.”

  Surprised at his insight, she lifted her gaze from their clasped hands to his face. “Yes.”

  “That would be a real pity.”

  Somehow, those words meant even more than when he’d called her sexy and fascinating. “Thank you.”

  “So what’re you going to do? How are you going to keep the butterfly flying?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “Make a living from my art.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “You’re talking to a guy who rides in rodeos. What’s wrong with a little crazy?”

  “Not a damn thing. So you don’t think it’s impossible?”

  He shrugged. “Some people must make a living from art. Like with rodeo. It’s tough and not everyone’s going to do it, but if you have talent, determination, a pinch of luck, why not?”

  “Exactly!” She beamed at him. “And I shouldn’t whine so much about my parents. I got them to agree—probably mostly because they don’t think I’ll ever actually do it—that if I come up with a solid business plan for how to make a living from my art, they won’t make me join CPM.”

  He frowned slightly, maybe because she’d used the word “make,” then said, “A business plan. For designing clothes like those tops of yours?”

  She sighed. “I guess. That’s what I’ve been working on.”

  “I don’t get it. You don’t sound enthusiastic.”

  “I enjoy designing clothes, but so many people do it.”

  “You’re afraid of the competition?”

  “It’s not that as much as it’s just not quite, you know, the thing. The thing that really excites me.”

  A slow smile curved his sensual lips. “It’s like raising cattle.”

  “Uh . . .” It was pretty much the opposite, in her opinion.

  “I mean, for me. Raising cattle’s okay. It’s outdoors, on the land, working with my family. All good stuff that’s important to me.”

  Now grasping his point, she nodded eagerly. “But you want to work with horses.”

  “That’s it. So, Kim”—his hazel eyes, looking almost gold in the restaurant’s dim lighting, studied her intently—“what’s it for you? What’s your thing?”

  “That’s just it.” She shook her head, frustrated with herself. “I don’t know. It’s like there’s something I’m reaching for, but it’s just out of sight. It’s nothing that my fellow students are doing, it’s something that’s mine. Just specially mine.” Then she shook her head quickly. What an ego. “But really, who am I to think I deserve something unique? That’s not how I was brought up—to be self-centered.”

  “It’s not self-centered to want your own special thing. You’re a special person, Kim.” He said those words as if he really meant them.

  Gazing across the table at Ty Ronan, she realized something. In almost two years of dating Henry, he had never understood or supported her dreams the way this cowboy did. No, Ty couldn’t possibly relate to her family issues and how difficult it was to go against her parents, but he saw her, Kim, as someone special who was entitled to follow her passion.

  Her small hand felt so good wrapped up in his big callused one. That same strong hand had clung to the grip on Dirt Devil’s bare back; it had deftly flung a rope over the head of a calf. It had caressed her cheek, her breasts, her most intimate spots.

  She wanted him to do it again.

  He made her feel tingly and moist and sexy and needy. She wanted to run her own small, soft hands over his hard body, to touch and taste and tease. Saturday night she’d done that, and he’d caressed her inner thighs, circled her clit with his tongue, thrust deep inside her. But she didn’t remember all the details; she’d been tipsy from too much lager. Now, if she was intoxicated, it was by him, not alcohol. This time she’d savor every exquisite detail.

  If
she was entitled to follow her passion, why shouldn’t she have another night with Ty? Or at least be alone with him, kiss and explore, decide how far she wanted things to go.

  “Jesus,” he said roughly, “I told you not to do that.”

  “What?”

  “Moan like that.”

  Had she moaned?

  “You give me dirty thoughts, dragonfly girl.” His eyes glittered and she read in them the same need, the same passion she felt.

  Kim made up her mind. “That’s because I’m thinking dirty thoughts. I think it’s time we got out of here, cowboy.”

  His eyes widened and so did the grin that took over his face. “Hell, yeah.”

  He turned to locate their waitress and asked for the bill.

  The waitress glanced at Kim’s half-eaten dessert. “Oh, you didn’t like the cake?”

  “I did.” A mischievous imp made Kim say, “I just got a better offer for dessert.”

  The waitress winked. “The one thing that’s better than chocolate.”

  Sex. The waitress assumed they’d be having sex. Probably so did Ty. And maybe—okay, probably—they would, but Kim didn’t want him taking that for granted.

  Ty paid the bill, stood, and held his hand out to Kim.

  She took it and came to her feet, hooking her purse off the back of her chair.

  He bent and retrieved her umbrella. “Don’t forget this.” He handed it to her then collected his hat.

  “I’ve lost a lot of umbrellas in Vancouver. I come in with one, then it’s sunny when I leave and I forget it. But I’d hate to lose this one. It’s the nicest I’ve found.”

  “It suits you.” He guided her toward the door, his hand on her lower back, a tantalizing hint of what was to come when they were both naked. “When I saw that umbrella coming down the street, I knew it was you.”

  Body humming with anticipation, finding it hard to think of anything except sex with this man, she said absentmindedly, “Umbrellas are so boring. Most are black, and the others are plain solid colors. If you have to carry an umbrella on a gray, drizzly day, I like something more cheerful.” An idea teased at the back of her mind. What had Ty said when he’d seen her? Don’t fly away, dragonfly girl.

  Umbrellas were kind of like wings. Clumsy, boring wings. But did they have to be?

  “When I first saw you tonight,” he said, and her attention refocused on him, “I wanted to kiss you. But I figured you might not like it.”

  They were on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. All signs of rain had disappeared, and it was a warm, almost balmy, evening. “I’d have liked it, but I wasn’t ready.”

  * * *

  No, Kim hadn’t been ready for a kiss when they’d first met tonight. But now . . . Yeah, dinner had been fun. Talking to her, feeling like they connected, getting turned on by her. Seeing her get turned on too—and tonight it wasn’t booze talking.

  Ty put on his hat so both hands were free, then he used those hands to capture her head. That soft, spiky hair tickled his palms as he tilted her face up toward him. When he bent down, she came up on her toes to meet him, her dark eyes sparkly and welcoming.

  Pent-up need surged through him, but this wasn’t the place for a down and dirty kiss. He fought to restrain himself. A brush of his lips against hers, the same with his hips. He could be patient. Especially when he was pretty sure where all of this was leading.

  “Oh,” she sighed, a warm chocolate breath against his lips.

  He might not be a dessert guy, but her mouth could get him addicted. “I want to be alone with you, Kim. To kiss you properly.”

  “Kiss?” A smile flickered then she studied him intently. “I’m sober.”

  “I hope that’s not a bad thing.”

  “It means . . .” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure where I want tonight to go. I do want to kiss you . . .” That smile flickered again. “Properly? Hmm, improperly sounds more fun.”

  “You bet it does.”

  “But I’m not promising we’ll . . . you know. Is that okay?”

  She was going to test his patience. But he sure as hell didn’t want to have sex with her unless she was ready. He took her hand and squeezed gently. “It’ll be up to you. I’m not the kind of guy who’d try to force a woman.”

  Her intent expression relaxed. “No, I don’t think you are. Okay, let’s go to my studio.”

  “Great. Where is it?”

  “In Yaletown. It’s five or six blocks. Where’s your truck?”

  “In a lot down the block.”

  He hung on to her hand and they strolled along the sidewalk. Ty was aware of people glancing at them with curiosity. Was it his hat, her unusual top, or the unlikely couple they made? When he opened the passenger door of the ranch truck and helped her up, he thought how out of place he was. Just as out of place as she would be at Ronan Ranch. Two different worlds, two different futures. Weird, how attracted he was to her and how much he enjoyed her company.

  She directed him on the short drive to Yaletown, then pointed to a nicely converted old brick warehouse five or six stories high. “That’s my building. There’s guest parking under it.” After using a fob to open the gate, she directed him to a narrow spot that hadn’t been designed with a ranch truck in mind.

  He went around to open her door, caught her by the waist, and lifted her down. The front of her body slid along the front of his in a long, tantalizing caress that instantly made him hard.

  She wriggled her pelvis against him like she couldn’t help herself, then pulled away.

  The elevator picked up other people at ground level, so he kept his hands to himself. And, when Kim unlocked the door to her place and clicked on a light, curiosity kept him from tugging her straight into his arms. He glanced around.

  When she’d said studio, he’d assumed artist’s studio. It did have an easel, a drafting table, and art supplies, but it was also her living space. There was a tiny kitchen, a table with a couple of chairs, and a semipartitioned area with a wardrobe and a double mattress on the floor. The duvet on the bed had an abstract design in yellow, orange, purple, and black, clearly Kim’s art. She’d fastened sketches and photographs to the brick walls, probably her own work as well. “Nice place.”

  “I love it. I’d never had my own place before.” Sounding nervous, she went on. “See that big wall of windows? It lifts up like a garage door. I’ll crank it up; it’s a beautiful evening.” She’d slipped off her shoes and hurried away from him, barefooted.

  He bent to take off his boots and socks, and tossed his hat on the kitchen counter.

  Kim tugged on a lever. The windowed wall on the studio side of the apartment slid up to hang below the ceiling, revealing a balcony with a wrought-iron railing and a pot of vivid mixed geraniums.

  “That’s cool.” He walked over. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her unit was on the alley side, facing the blank brick wall of another warehouse-type building. No windows over there, so no one could see into her place.

  “I like things that are distinctive.”

  “Ah,” he teased, “that’s why I’m here. A cowboy in Yaletown is pretty distinctive.”

  “You, Ty, are pretty distinctive wherever you are. Even at a rodeo, you stand out.”

  He stepped closer, and she didn’t move away. Testing, he rested his hands on her shoulders and leaned in for a kiss.

  Thirteen

  Ty got his answer when Kim went up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He clasped her firm butt in his big palms and tugged her into him until their bodies pressed together. And then he kissed her. Teasing her lips, savoring her slowly. As she warmed and loosened, he dipped inside to taste her chocolaty sweetness. The curves of her butt were taut under his grip. His heart raced and, behind his fly, his swollen cock demanded to be released.

  Her response heated, so he stopped holding back. He let all the wanting, the buildup of the past hours—of the days and nights since Saturday—pour into that kiss.


  She answered eagerly, showing that she wanted him just as badly. What could possibly be wrong with two people on fire for each other, just wanting some fun together?

  “I’m glad I tracked you down,” he told her.

  Huge dark eyes gazed up at him. “Why did you?”

  “Couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

  “Me either. I’ve been dreaming about you.”

  “Me too. Sexy dreams.”

  She nodded. “Yes, that kind.” Her gaze darted across the room, then back. “I dreamed about you in my bed.”

  “Dreams do come true.” Thank God.

  He was about to haul her toward the bed when she stepped out onto the little balcony. Okay, she needed more seduction before they made it to bed.

  Gazing up, she said, “You can hardly see the stars here.”

  She really had a thing about stars.

  He joined her. The air smelled pretty good for a city, but it didn’t carry the scents of hay and forest he enjoyed. The sky was murky. “You want stars? You should live on a ranch.”

  Her cute nose wrinkled and she laughed. “Yeah, right. Not gonna happen, even if there are stars.” Quickly, she said, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just not my thing. I’d bet Hong Kong isn’t yours.”

  He gave an involuntary shudder. “People, buildings, traffic all crowded into a tiny space? You got that right. Vancouver’s all the ‘city’ I can handle, then only in small, infrequent doses.”

  “And I love it.” She rested her forearms on the balcony railing, angling her body so her curvy backside was aimed toward him. She had a graceful way of moving, like a dancer or athlete, and her body was so hot. “We sure are different,” she said.

  Ty stepped up behind her and leaned forward, his hands on the railing on either side of her arms. “I know one way we’re compatible.”

  She made an mmm sound and wriggled her butt against his erection.

  He kissed her nape, trailing damp nibbles from her hairline to the neckline of her top.

  She shivered, gave a sexy moan, and twisted her neck to give him better access.