by Leslie North
"So you see, Miss Fudge, I was hoping to meet with Maxwell today to discuss adding one of his quarabs to my stable." Lena's heart thudded excitedly at the way his eyes had lit up with delight. She could tell already that she had passed the test. "But after speaking to you, I'm ready to make my purchase today. This one, here." He indicated…who was that? Whispered Faith?
Lena went with it. "You and Whisper there sure did seem to hit it off. Why don't you follow me back to the office and I can draw up the paperwork?" She still needed practice arranging the forms the way Maxwell liked them. The client continued conversing with her as they took over the office and she poured him a cup of coffee. She had just sat down when Maxwell entered the office.
"Grant?" he questioned. "What are you doing here?"
Grant! Lena could have smacked herself, but no one needed to know how bad she was with names. Seeing Maxwell, she threw up her hands and spun around in the office chair. "I win!" she crowed. "Oh yeah! Who's the best saleswoman around?"
Maxwell stared at her in horror. Grant, at least, looked amused, if not a little bit perplexed by her reaction. Taking in their expressions, Lena began to slowly deflate. In fact, she suddenly suspected that deflating wasn't good enough—better to disappear into the floor entirely. He's not…? She mouthed her question at Maxwell and pointed to Grant as soon as his head was bowed over the contract. Maxwell shook his head once, very deliberately, and Lena's blood ran cold.
Oh God. Had she actually just made a real horse sale while thinking it was all a game?
"Errr…Grant, do you mind if Maxwell glances that contract over real quick before you sign?"
"Sure." Grant passed the contract back behind him. Maxwell smoothed a hand down his face in obvious distress, but kept his expression carefully composed. His eyes flickered down the length of the page, and some of the tension started to ease out of Lena when she saw him beginning to relax. Was she going to pull this off, after all?
Then all the blood drained out of Maxwell's face. And she knew she had made a royal fuckup.
"Whispered Faith? You want to buy Whisper, Grant?" Maxwell sounded like he was about to be seasick in the dead middle of Montana.
Whispered Faith. Lena nearly gasped aloud as the name clicked into place. That was Maxwell's prize horse that he intended to sell to the Arabs. And just like that, her mistake suddenly put new meaning to the phrase “royal fuckup.”
"Oh, great catch, Maxwell!" Lena pulled the contract breezily out of his hand. "We'll correct that, no problem! The horse Grant wanted was…” She glanced at the diagram she’d drawn up with each horse’s name scribbled in their assigned stall. She needed the horse next to Whisper. “Arctic Fire."
Even if she couldn't get the names right, Lena had known exactly which horse was off-limits to potential buyers…even if she had nearly sold just sold him by accident anyway.
Grant chuckled and shook his head. "You should try naming your horses like a normal person, Maxwell."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The correct sale was made, and at the end of it, Grant shook Lena's hand. "I'll send my boys by with the trailer in the morning. You have a real jewel on your staff, Maxwell," he commended on his way out. "Fancy names aside, this woman knows her horses. Careful I don't come by next time with a job offer to hire her out from under you."
"We're always careful around here," Maxwell responded. Lena flushed and picked at a thread on her flannel shirt. "You take care."
As soon as Grant was gone, Lena turned back to Maxwell. She knew her elated expression had frozen on her face; her brain still didn't know whether or not it was appropriate for her to feel this much excitement, not when she had almost messed up so royally. But the keyword most applicable here was almost, as far as she was concerned. Not only had she not sold the wrong horse, but she had also just made her first sale.
"I'm sorry for the close call," she said eventually. She let her smile tug itself a few degrees smaller as she looked at him in sympathy. "You okay?"
Maxwell let out a gusty sigh, and let his big body fall back against the barn wall. He removed his hat and held it in place over his heart.
"But you see, Maxwell?" Lena took advantage of his silence to lean in with a grin. "The hard part's listening, and you've already got that down. Now you just have to learn to go with your gut and roll with the punches. You tell the other person what they want to hear, and—"
Maxwell snatched the front of her shirt and dragged her in. Lena's surprise was muffled by the hot, insistent lips that both claimed and silenced hers. She fell against him eagerly, enthusiastically, and Maxwell's back hit the wall harder. His Stetson fell to the dirt floor as their lips went to war.
It was as if every breath she exhaled, Maxwell was determined to inhale. He didn't want a spare inch of her escaping the dominating dance of his mouth. She moaned as they forced themselves together as close as possible. The kiss was so intense that it felt like only the spare inches of her belly kept them from becoming one in that moment.
Maxwell broke away first, with a gasp that was clearly meant to suck oxygen back into his lungs. Lena panted in what felt like agreement. A corkscrew curl fell across her nose, but she didn't want to take her hands off him long enough to fix it. "So? Do you forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive." Maxwell sighed as he folded her in against him. Lena lost herself in the warmth, the solidity, of his chest. The comforting pulse of his heart began to stir something in her that wasn't just affection. It was inspiration. "I was just thinking that a sale shouldn't be this stressful." Maxwell sighed again as Lena drew back.
"And I was just thinking your chest has given me a brilliant idea," she concluded.
9
LENA
Okay, so maybe it wasn't a brilliant idea.
It was a super brilliant idea.
And it was one Lena knew she couldn't bring Maxwell in on. What Maxwell didn't know, wouldn't hurt him…and in this case, it could only help their sale.
Lena peeked out from behind the Cooper Ranch trailer to take in the scene. It was the second day of the big horse sale, the day after the buyers' preview, kicking off two fun-filled weeks of horsey festivity. The air was filled with dust thrown up by incoming trucks and galloping hooves. Buyers and sellers conversed with animated gestures as the more curious, casual browsers moved about the stables and temporarily-erected pens. It was an ocean of cowboy hats as far as the eye could see.
Lena yearned to get into the thick of it. But not yet. She had to set her plan into motion first.
In the crowd of hats, a group of tall, dark men moved about in dark suits. They were snappily, impeccably dressed for the occasion, exuding a class and attitude completely exotic to the Montana countryside. The Arab princes weren't a disappointment, that was for sure. For the first time, Lena felt intimidated by the idea of engaging with them.
Thankfully, they weren't her target. Their female companions—wives?—followed behind them dutifully, gorgeous dark-eyed women that moved with all the grace and elegance of supermodels—in fact, Lena wasn't sure that half of them weren't.
"How's it going?" Maxwell came up beside her, making her jump guiltily. She turned to him. He had shed his shirt, and his tanned, muscled body glistened with a sheen of sweat. I couldn't have oiled you up any better myself, she thought mischievously, but she couldn't let onto her plan. Not yet.
"It's going better than expected," she admitted. "We've attracted interest from buyers from Kentucky, California, Scotland, and Ireland."
"But still no Arabs?"
Lena shook her head. "Still no Arabs."
Maxwell growled in frustration and returned to work. He was clearly taking out his feelings on the matter through hard physical labor. The horses watched as he rejoined them, swishing their tails curiously. Lena had to resist the urge to rub her hands together gleefully. Harder to resist was the desire to watch as he took up his rake and started spreading fresh straw around the pen. There was no denying Maxwell was stacked. S
he had already lost count of the women who stopped with their mouths hanging ajar as he obliviously carried on working. Lena liked to think of it as the Henderson Farm Effect.
And she was banking her sale on it now.
Her moment came when the wives broke off from their princely husbands to purchase iced tea at a nearby stand. Lena scurried as fast as she could back to Maxwell. She entered the pen and shoved the handsome horseman forward. "Maxwell, do you mind cleaning over here for a bit? The smell is driving me crazy." She nudged him a little more toward a patch of sunlight penetrating the cloud cover above. "Yep. Right there."
He glanced at her curiously. "Yeah. Sure thing, Lena."
"Sorry to be a taskmaster." She made a big show of fanning her face and pinching her nose. "It's the pregnancy. It's given me mutant powers. I swear I can smell the manure drop from all the way across the fairgrounds."
Maxwell surprised her by dipping down for a kiss. Electricity ignited within her and raced through her veins all the way down to her toes. As they broke apart, the heavy look he gave her made her weak in the knees. It was obvious what was on his mind at that moment, and for the first time that day it wasn't the Arab princes.
Lena blinked rapidly to break herself out of the spell. She turned and let herself out through the gate. The women had finished at the tea stand and were just winding their way back toward their husbands. "Oh! That looks delicious!" she exclaimed. The women stopped and exchanged looks. Lena pointed to their tea. "Sorry, I can't help myself. I get the craziest cravings." She touched her stomach.
They all gazed at her baby bump, round-eyed and curious. They were young enough that Lena had to wonder if any of them had been through their own pregnancies. They wandered over, for the moment forgetting their husbands, and circled her.
"Can I touch?" the one who appeared to be the youngest among them asked breathlessly.
Lena grinned. "Of course! I don't mind at all."
The women all took turns reverently petting her stomach. A year ago, the then flat-bellied Lena Fudge would have found the attention totally embarrassing, but she thought she understood the fascination better now. She didn't mind being reduced momentarily to a curiosity.
Because she definitely didn't plan on being the main event.
She saw her opening the moment the eldest wife, a handsome, proud-nosed woman, looked up from her stomach and caught sight of Maxwell. Her cheeks erupted immediately in a rosy hue, and her impeccable self-possession seemed to crumble. She turned and whispered rapidly to her closest companion. One by one, the wives all fixed their attention on the shirtless cowboy laboring not a yard away.
"Oh! Are you interested in our prized pleasure quarab?" Lena emphasized, all the while batting her eyes innocently for effect. The women exchanged looks again, then practically tripped over themselves to agree that they were. "Follow me! I'd love to show him to you!"
Lena led the small procession over and was sure to give them a full view of Maxwell's naked back as they lined up along the pen. He was turned away from them and completely unaware of his audience. Nearby, Whispered Faith swished his luxurious black tail as he grazed. In defense of the horse's own beauty, Lena did notice the wives' eyes stray to him, and they crowed their approval. But Whisper was no match for his owner in this instance.
Lena stepped back and fisted her hands on her hips. My work here is done, she thought. Well, nearly. It was only a matter of time before the princes came to collect their wives, and when they did, the women would have no choice but to use the excuse of their admiration of Whisper. Lena was confident the sale was in the bag.
Maxwell straightened, wiped the sweat from his brow, and slapped his gloves on his thigh. The wives couldn't help themselves—they giggled shyly. He turned, his sweat-soaked hair falling in a tangle about his face. He flicked his head to get displace it and get a better look at his unexpected audience. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and the wide-eyed glance he threw Lena's way would make any woman want to take complete advantage of his naïveté. Lena's mouth practically watered in that moment along with the other women's. Maxwell had absolutely no idea the effect his scantily-clad presence had on those around him. Maybe most of the men touring the show wouldn't understand, but…
The thought hit her like a well-aimed baby kick. The men! She couldn't have Maxwell standing around like this when the princes arrived! She turned, hunting the crowd. Sure enough, she saw what suddenly seemed to be a legion of black suits winding their way toward the Cooper Ranch pen.
"Maxwell!" His name burst suddenly from her lips in a near-shriek. Maxwell heard her, and was already running, practically vaulting the pen, and racing by the swooning ladies to join her. Lena felt bad for inspiring his panic, but as long as his feet were moving, they had a chance of escaping. She waved him to follow her as she disappeared back around the side of the trailer.
"What? What is it? Is it the baby?" Maxwell demanded.
Lena glanced around the corner, and quickly whipped back around to face him. This was bad. Their position wasn't secluded enough. One of the wives had even waved in their direction when she looked. She hunted around them before spotting the pile of fresh hay in a stall a few feet away. She hauled that direction.
"Get down!" she whispered fiercely. She grabbed Maxwell and pushed him down into the hay like they were under fire, then closed the stall door. The sweet scent of the alfalfa erupted into the air around them as Lena laid herself down beside him.
Perfect. From this position, nobody was likely to find them until they wanted to be found.
"What the hell is going on with you?" Maxwell asked, but he was laughing, probably at the absurdity of this most recent string of events. He turned into her, in the same moment Lena turned into him.
And her heart stopped.
Their eyes met, and their gasping breaths began to slow. Maxwell studied her face as she let herself take him in. He had been laboring all day, but damn if he didn't smell nice. Her superpowered nose was suddenly working overtime when she realized she could smell the sharp spearmint of his aftershave.
"Maxwell…" She was about to explain herself, but he caught her chin in his hand and bent to her. Lena exhaled an appreciative noise as his lips captured hers. This kiss was deeper and much more satisfying than the one he had surprised her with in the pen, but it also awoke all sorts of unfulfilled needs deep inside her. She felt herself growing wet already as he shifted onto her and they sank into the bed of hay.
Maxwell straddled her waist. The baby bump prevented him from crushing her breasts against his chest, but his torso was long enough that all he had to do was arch his back to still reach her lips. Lena's hands worked their way up his shoulders, relishing the rocky terrain of activated muscles. God, his arms were incredible. Every inch of him was incredible; she knew that much from their previous intimate encounter, which already felt like years and years ago…
"Lena, I need you." He had her wrists pinned above her head. Lena stared up at him, heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. Maybe the frustration Maxwell had been working through that afternoon didn't have to do with the sale after all.
He swooped in again before she could respond. It was just as well. Lena had no idea what to say. She knew she should tell him about her scheme and encourage him to race back out there and entertain the princes, but her body wouldn't let her do it. It wouldn't let her betray what she really wanted. She stirred beneath him, wiggled her legs open, and hitched one leg over his hip. The skirt of her dress shifted, shivering along the length of her thigh until her panties were exposed. Already Lena could feel a wet spot of need forming there. Judging by the way Maxwell kept thrusting up against her, her need wasn't the only thing going unfulfilled.
"Quickly," she said breathlessly. And Maxwell went into action. He yanked her panties down her quaking thighs, skimming them down her shins. Lena held her skirt up to give him better access and glanced to the left, then the right. All she could see was the golden heaps of hay they had lost the
mselves in, but she couldn't help wondering: What if…? What if someone came looking for the owner of the gorgeous pleasure quarab, only to find the man locked in pleasure of his own?
"Hurry!" she whispered. She didn't know whether to laugh or feel afraid of her own insistence. She had always expected Maxwell to be the calm one, the reserved one. This was completely out character for the quiet cowboy…or at least, it should have been. But Lena remembered his sexual appetite, and her heart quavered. She looked up into his face, past the curtain of dark hair hanging down around his set jaw and glimmering eyes. In that moment, pinning her in the hay with the sun on his back and the shadows gathering beneath him, he looked positively beastly.
"I don't intend to." He shifted to push his jeans aside and free his erection.
The thick dome of his cock butted up against her entrance, and he slowed his advance. He started to ease into her, and Lena opened her legs wider to receive him. Her juices lubricated his swollen shaft, making it easier for Maxwell as he guided himself into her. Lena hissed and let her head drop back into the hay. She could already feel it catching in her hair, wanting to give her transgression away to anyone who might find them…as if finding them with her legs locked around him wouldn't be enough of a dead giveaway already.
Maxwell groaned as he sank fully into her. He dropped himself onto his forearms. He was so close that his long hair brushed her cheek, and when Lena panted, it stirred. He looked at her, lips parted, eyes round. "Lena, you feel so good," he whispered hoarsely. "God, you're as tight as I remember."