Love With a Perfect Cowboy

by Lori Wilde

  She’d promised Luke she wouldn’t print any more letters from Juliet, and she would keep that promise. But she hadn’t promised that she would not dress up like Millie Greenwood for the masquerade party.

  She arrived at the observatory an hour before the guests to oversee the preparation, dressed in a replica flapper’s dress in the style that her great-­grandmother wore during a dance marathon she attended with Great-­Grandfather John before they were married.

  Just before the party started, Melody slipped on a gilded emerald mask that matched the dress. Cars began arriving at seven-­thirty. Limos pulled up depositing the rich, famous, and well-­heeled. Melody’s film crew was busy interviewing the costumed guests as they arrived on the red carpet that had been rolled out to greet them.

  Caterers had set up an outdoor buffet, and delicious smells filled the air. Mysterious mood music was piped in through the sound system—­select classical pieces, the themes to Star Wars and 2001: A Space Odyssey. The amphitheater had been decorated for the occasion and masked attendants gave out mini-­flashlights as party favors, so that the guests could safely find their way back to their cars after the party was over. There were no parking lot lamps at the observatory. Darkest pitch black was needed for deep stargazing. Scientists milled with the crowd, giving personalized lectures about the heavenly sky above them.

  Melody had to admit, you didn’t get this kind of sky in Manhattan. For that matter, you didn’t get this sky anywhere but the Trans-­Pecos. That’s why they’d built McDonald Observatory here in the first place. It reminded her what was special and unique about her home.

  Waiters moved through the throng, balancing silver trays laden with flutes of fizzy champagne. The air hummed with excited voices. Everyone was in costume, masked, their identities hidden. A thrill ran through her. This was more invigorating than she had anticipated. What fun.

  She shook hands with VIPs and made idle chitchat, but all the while, she was watching, waiting.

  For Luke.

  But he was nowhere in sight.

  She reached for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and took a swallow to quell her nerves. Considering how drunk she’d gotten the last time she drank champagne, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

  How weird seeing her costumed friends and family looking like strangers. Novel. New. She supposed that was part of what was making her feel so giddy. She put down the champagne. She needed to keep her wits about her. This was her event. She was the hostess.

  The eyeholes of the wide mask that covered half her face were too narrow and she was having problems seeing much in her peripheral vision. The sun had not yet set and the desert air was still exceptionally warm. Many had gone inside the building to enjoy the air conditioning until the stargazing began.

  And that’s when she saw him.

  Rudolph Valentino.

  THERE, ON THE other side of the pavilion was the woman Luke had come looking for. She was the reason he’d donned the silly sheik costume. This was the desert, after all, why not come as the most famous silent-­film lover of all time?

  He could feel her eyes caress his face from beneath her mask, and a powerful sexual stirring tugged his cock. Another excellent reason to wear voluminous robes.

  Coyly, she tossed her bobbed, dark brown hair. The wig looked good on her. She licked her lips and winked.

  Luke winked back.

  She smiled a quick, come-­hither smile and then ducked her head.

  Here we go. The thrill of the chase.

  Masked guests were all around him, talking, laughing, joking, drinking, but he could have been stranded on a deserted island or trapped in a timeless vortex. The real world was muffled, far away. He was that focused on Melody and Melody only.

  His gaze strayed down the shapeless shift dress to take in her long shapely legs encased in sheer silk stockings, and he just knew a garter belt was holding them up. He could easily imagine himself tugging the silky material down over the curve of her calf.

  She lifted her head again, angled him a long, lingering look. This time, her smile was filled with amusement, leaving him with the image of her soft, pliant lips.

  Then she retreated, turned on her heels, and walked off.

  Every nerve in his body flared to life, alert, vibrant, clamoring for attention.

  She made her way through the crowd that was moving along the cement walkway to the amphitheater as the sun disappeared below the horizon. She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. Even in a group of ­people dressed in mysterious garb, she was the most provocative person there.

  Follow me, her eyes whispered.

  She pursed her lips, slowly blew him a kiss, and then crooked her index finger.

  This way.

  Luke felt the impact of her gesture catch him low in the groin. Simultaneously, hormones and endorphins lit up both his body and his mind. He gulped, shook his head. His tongue was cemented to the roof of his mouth. His eyes were transfixed on her lithe form. His nose twitched, suddenly sensitized to the scent of seduction in the air, and his ears filled with a blinding white roaring noise.

  She strutted off.

  Mesmerized, he watched her hips sway. He went primeval and lumbered after her. Must have woman.

  By the time he reached where she’d been standing when she’d blown him the kiss, she had already disappeared in the darkness. He searched the crowd in the amphitheater, but the sunlight was gone and everyone was in costume. Pierce Hollister stood at the podium in his Dallas Cowboys uniform welcoming the guests and introducing the astronomers who would be showing them the stars that evening.

  And then he saw her in the distance, near one of the domes that housed the high-­powered telescopes. The flapper paused again, but she did not look back. Had she just assumed he would follow?

  She was correct. He would follow her anywhere.

  Tossing her head, the brown bob swinging against her chin, she pried open the door of the smaller dome.

  Luke followed, his body pulsating.

  She vanished inside the dome, the door closing behind her.

  Edging closer, he cast a glance around to see if anyone had noticed him. Everyone’s backs were to him as they focused on the speaker who was talking about meteors and light-­years and milky emissions.

  A minute ticked by. Then another. And another.

  Was she coming out or was he supposed to go in?

  He wanted her so badly he felt scorched. Unable to stand it a second longer, he opened the door of the dome and stepped inside.

  A pleasant, erotic scent hit his nose. His body reacted, shoulders tensing, cock hardening. He would remember this smell until his dying day.

  The mouthwatering fragrance of Melody’s full-­blown sexual arousal.

  Chapter 17

  LUKE twisted the dead bolt on the heavy metal door, sealing them inside. The click echoed loudly in the metal dome.

  The room was pitch black. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear his ragged breathing. She gulped and contemplated switching on the flashlight clutched in her hand, but she couldn’t seem to make herself move.

  His boots scraped against the cement, coming closer. She smiled, remembering how he looked dressed as Rudolph Valentino. The great lover.

  Slowly, his footsteps came closer and closer, her muscles growing tighter as the seconds spun into minutes and then he stopped, so close she could feel heat radiating off his body, but she could not feel a thing.

  The darkness felt both intimate and anonymous, heightening the tension. A hand touched her elbow and she jumped back, breath rushing from her lungs in a startled whoosh. Her fingers uncurled, sending the flashlight crashing to the floor.

  Luke’s arm went around her waist, pulling her close while at the same time dancing her backward until her butt hit the cylindrical wall of the dome. His scent was in her nose, soap, spicy cologne, and masculine male.

  His hands manacled her wrist and he pinned her arms overhead, pressed his hot body flush a
gainst hers.

  Melody couldn’t believe she was really doing this. Making out with him inside the dome when a hundred guests waited outside, not two hundred yards away. It felt so naughty, so wicked, so wrong, and thrilling her like nothing she had ever before experienced.

  He was so receptive, so responsive. When she curled her fingers around his forearm, he actually quivered.

  She was trembling too, uncertain but hungry for him. The risk heightening the experience, the costumes making their encounter just that much more enticing.

  She gasped, but before the sound fully left her lips, his mouth was on hers, claiming her hard and long and fierce, nothing casual or laid back about this kiss. She responded in kind, nipping his bottom lip up between her teeth, tasting him with a hungry sound. She could feel every inch of his hard arousal, leaving absolutely no doubt as to how much he wanted her.

  Wildness spilled from him into her and they were teenagers again, caught in the throes of youthful recklessness. The flavor of his desire filled her mouth and he tasted of secret rendezvous, broken rules, and naked lust—­full-­bodied red wine, earthy oysters, smoky barbecue, pilfered strawberries dipped in dark chocolate. His surging testosterone smelled of hot race car engines, leather backseats, and musky black truffles—­rich, decadent, yet oddly comforting. He made her think of roads not taken, faded snapshots of a former life, the stirring of long-­abandoned dreams, husky midnight laughter, and the mysterious feel of a lover’s skin.

  He broke the kiss, leaving her aching and panting, and taunted her by dangling his tempting lips just above hers.

  “What?” she whispered, the sound coming out thick and rough in the empty room.

  “I want you,” he gasped, his voice as ragged as hers. “If you need to say no, I understand, but you better do it quick because I’m reaching the point of—­”

  She went up on her toes, snaked her arms around his neck, shoved off the sheik headdress, jammed her fingers through his hair, and yanked his head down to seal her mouth over his. Yes, she got that he was giving her a chance to call a halt to this before it went too far, and while she appreciated his gallantry, she wasn’t the least bit interested in it.

  Now.

  She had to have him now and the consequences be damned. This didn’t have to be complicated or fraught with strings. Nothing wrong with enjoying the moment. They were both consenting adults who knew what they wanted. She wasn’t expecting happily-­ever-­after.

  “No regrets,” she muttered against his lips and speared her tongue past the teeth he parted so readily.

  His arms tightened around her and a harsh groan rolled from his throat. “Melody,” he murmured.

  He tugged off the wig she was wearing, tossed it aside, then plucked at the pins holding her hair back, dislodging them. Tendrils fell about her face. His hands moved to cup her cheek, holding her still while he kissed her again and again.

  Nothing had ever felt so good. No man had ever made her feel so desired, so cherished.

  Whimpering, she ripped the robe over his head and threw it into the darkness to join her wig, then worked the buttons on his shirt he wore underneath, desperate to get him out of it.

  Is this smart?

  Hush! It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. If her heart got broken, she’d deal with it. Later. For now, there was nothing in the world as wonderful as his mouth, those fingers, that long hard body.

  He pulled away again.

  “No!” she cried and reached for him, only to realize he’d stopped just long enough to wrench off the shirt she’d unbuttoned.

  He flung it off into the darkness, with the robe and the wig, revving her engines and leaving her panting and weak-­kneed.

  Her palms flew to his bare chest, spread across those hard beautiful muscles. While the darkness escalated the mystery, she wished she could see him. He busied himself with the zipper at her back, sliding it down, exposing her bare skin to the warm air.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “Now.”

  He responded by drowning out her words with a kiss so powerful it took her breath. He wrapped one hand around her waist, his palm rhythmically squeezing her buttocks.

  God, what a great kisser he was.

  “Nibble on my neck,” she murmured.

  He complied. The minute his sharp teeth sank lightly into the tender skin at the hollow of her throat, she moaned softly.

  Quiet. She had to be quiet. ­People might hear.

  But she couldn’t even think straight, much less fret about the potential for public humiliation. His palms were skimming up underneath her flimsy getup, his hands scorching against the bare skin of her belly.

  Her knees bobbled.

  Sensing her weakness, he pressed her back against the wall of the dome, holding her in place with the pressure of his hip.

  He didn’t speak.

  Golden silence. Good. It made things even sexier.

  Not hearing his voice made her feel as if he was pure fantasy and it escalated her arousal.

  She felt daring and alluring and incredibly adventuresome. This was exactly what she needed.

  His movements were measured, controlled, but at the same time relaxed and easy. He’d unhooked the clasp of her bra and his fingers were now trailing circles around her nipples, teasing them into taut peaks.

  In the dark, in the masquerade, he was a creature of the night. Sleek and primal, sexual in a way that quickened her breathing and slicked her palms. The air in the dome was heavy with the sound of their rough, synchronized breathing. It smelled of the musk, of their throbbing bodies.

  He kissed her again. The glide of his tongue was rich and smooth.

  Her blood moved recklessly through her veins. There was that thrill again, rolling through her like an electrical storm, searing and stark and scary.

  His mouth was skillful. Gentle when she needed him to be, firm when she needed that too. He was taking his time. She enjoyed his unanticipated leisure, but at the same time it added to her anxiety. The longer this took, the more likely they were to be caught.

  Isn’t that the point? The danger of discovery.

  His arms were so strong. She wished it wasn’t so dark, wished she could see his face and gaze deeply into his eyes.

  She had intended this to be a clothes-­on quickie but it wasn’t turning out that way. She was pressed up against the wall, wearing nothing but black silk panties, stockings, and stilettos.

  His hand was a hot pressure as he reached out to trail it across the soft silk between her legs. He stroked her gently, his fingertip executing a slow, deliberate circle.

  Mewling softly against the pleasure, she grasped his arm for support. He kissed her again while his fingers explored. A warm, soft kiss of satisfaction.

  Desire spread through her. She ran her tongue around his lips and he made a masculine noise of enjoyment.

  He dropped to his knees, slipped off her panties, and then she felt the touch of his lips against her inner thigh. Slowly, his mouth inched upward.

  Her body tensed. What was he doing?

  She put a hand to the back of his neck. He raised his head.

  “I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered. She heard him rustling in the darkness. “What are you doing?”

  “Condom.”

  There was a slight tearing sound like a small package being opened. Always prepared. That was her Luke.

  She touched him down there, heard his sharp intake of breath. He was so hard. So big.

  “Hurry,” she insisted, growing suddenly scared against a nameless sense of dread.

  He entered her carefully and then he began a slow, meticulous thrusting.

  Swept away, she matched his tempo, arching her back, pushing against him, increasing the tension. The rhythm between them was quite extraordinary. They were so in tune with each other. He thrust, she parried.

  It was almost mystical.

  Biting need flowed through her body. She needed this intimacy, needed him. Her legs were wrapped aroun
d his waist and she held him tightly in a clench.

  The orgasm rose in her, in a hot, loud knot. She bit his shoulder to hold back her screams of ecstasy.

  He gave one last thrust and his body twitched with the power of his own climax. The sound of his breathing was rough against her ears.

  She came as she’d never come before, wave upon wave, an entire ocean crashing through her. He held her gently as she shuddered in his arms.

  Then after a while, after they had recovered, he dressed her in the dark.

  AIDED BY THE cloak of darkness, Melody left the dome first. The speaker was just finishing his lecture, and no one had even noticed she was gone. She slipped into her seat at the back of the stone amphitheater beside Lace.

  “Everything okay?” her cousin asked.

  “Sure. Great. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know. You sound breathless.”

  “Just stumbled in the dark.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Checking to make sure the domes were unlocked for the telescope viewing.”

  Lace cast her a sidelong glance.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I’ve got nothing to go on except the light of the stars, but it looks to me like your dress is on wrong side out.”

  Melody reached up, touched the seam of her dress at the shoulder. So it was.

  “You might want to slip over to the building and turn it the right side out before someone else notices.” Lace grinned. “I’ll make your excuses.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I understand what it’s like to have the hots for the guy who seems all wrong for you.” Lace gave her arm a companionable squeeze.

  “I—­” She closed her mouth. No point denying it. “I appreciate your help.”

  “That’s what cousins are for.”

  Melody went into the main building to correct her wardrobe malfunction, and when she came out, the astronomers were assisting the guests as they used the telescope to track the moon and stars. It took her several minutes to find Luke among them and it required every strength of willpower she had in her not to go up and slip her arm around his waist. She wanted to be with him, touch him every single minute.