Love With a Perfect Cowboy

by Lori Wilde

  “Melody!” Emma Lee called from the reception desk. “You’re trending on Twitter.”

  “What?”

  “And the blog has gotten three thousand forty-six comments. Let me check Facebook. Omigod!”

  “What is it? Melody left her office to go stand at the reception desk.

  “Holy mushrooms.” Emma Lee’s eyes met hers. “Juliet’s gone viral.”

  BRACED FOR AN angry call from Luke for breaking her promise about not publishing any more letters from Juliet, Melody shut down her cell phone to avoid the inevitable. She had a good excuse for her cowardice. After Emma Lee took off for school at ten, she stayed busy fielding inquiries about Juliet’s well-­being and selling tickets to the bachelor auction, Sadie Hawkins dance, and Founder’s Day picnic. The phones did not stop ringing. There were ­people buying tickets from Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, Austin, El Paso, and Santa Fe.

  By the end of the day, all the Memorial Day weekend events had sold out and all the lodging in town was booked. The power of the Internet stunned her. ­People cared about Juliet. They cared a lot.

  Making Melody feel guilty about the lie. It’s all for the greater good, she tried to convince herself.

  At four o’clock, Luke stalked into the Chamber of Commerce. “Melody!” he bellowed.

  Uh-­oh, time to pay the piper. She smoothed her skirt and came out of her office to find him standing there.

  “I’ve been trying to call your cell and it keeps going to voice mail,” he said. “And the line here is constantly busy.”

  “I’ve been busy myself.”

  “I know. Everywhere I went today, I heard about it. The town’s buzzing.” He came toward her, his expression enigmatic.

  “You don’t say?”

  “You disobeyed me.” He closed in on her. “And printed another Juliet letter anyway.” He waved the greensheet in front of her face. “This could have been you. It could have been us.”

  Her palms went instantly sweaty. Did he suspect something? “But we never got that far, did we?”

  “Because of our families.”

  “Because you were too afraid to rock the boat.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Because I knew that if I rocked the boat I couldn’t depend on you to stay in it with me.”

  Punch to the gut. Ouch. She forced herself not to move. “The girl was in such despair, Luke. I had to print her letter.”

  “If this ends up causing trouble for the community—­”

  “How can it cause trouble?” she interrupted. “All the empty beds in town will be filled on Memorial Day weekend. The events are sold out. All over the Internet they’re talking about Cupid. I did my job, Luke. I brought tourists back to town in the midst of the worst drought in history.”

  “You did at that,” he said and lowered his eyelids. “The mayor part of me is damn proud of you.”

  “And the lover part?” she whispered, leaning in.

  “Well, he’s going to need some placating.”

  MELODY COULDN’T STAY away from Luke. No matter how hard she tried. Time and time again, she found herself drawn across the courtyard to his condo, where he’d started spending every night since the stargazing party, her body on fire for him. It was the fourth time that week that she’d gone to his place or he’d come to hers.

  This relationship wasn’t going to end well in the long run, she knew that, but here she was, standing on his front stoop, wearing nothing but a raincoat.

  Stupid to wear a raincoat in a place that hadn’t seen rain in over eighteen months. If anyone saw her … but it was midnight again and quiet in the sleepy town. The nosy neighbors were sound asleep. Or at least that’s what she told herself.

  Blood churning, she wet her lips, raised her fist to knock on his door, but it swung inward before her knuckles had a chance to rap and Luke pulled her inside. Sexy music played on the sound system.

  “I’ve got a bubble bath waiting for you,” he soothed, and guided her to the master bath, untying the belt on her raincoat as they went.

  Okay, she’d admitted. She was addicted to being with him. So sue her.

  The sex play just kept getting better and better. On Monday night, they’d watched an erotic movie together and acted out the story line. Whee! On Tuesday night, she tied him to his bed with silk ties and read Anaïs Nin poetry to him before doing the things described in the book. On Wednesday, he’d given her a pedicure, a foot massage, and then blown her mind by sucking her toes, unearthing a minefield of erogenous zones she had no idea she possessed. She paid him back with a massage of her own. And now, tonight they were taking a bubble bath together complete with vanilla-­scented candles, champagne, and Barry White crooning sex songs.

  “You know,” she said as Luke washed her back. “I’m going to be really busy this entire weekend with the upcoming Memorial Day events. We’re going to have to take a break.”

  “I know,” he said mournfully and kissed the nape of her neck. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I worry that we’re growing incautious.” She ran her fingers through the hair on his arms. “We’re so hung up on each other that we’re not paying much attention to what’s going on in the community.”

  “We’re very good not to show it when we run across each other in public. The other day at the board meeting, when you looked right through me, it sort of hurt my feelings until I remembered you were just playing it cool.”

  “That’s what I mean about incautious. This is just about sex, Luke. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Is it because you’re scared?” he murmured as he nibbled her ear. “Because I’m scared too.”

  “I know. It’s scary. It would be so easy to cross the line.”

  “Remind me again why that would be such a horrible thing?”

  “Your family hates my family, my family hates yours. I’m only here temporarily. Long-­distance relationships rarely work.”

  “Oh yeah, that.”

  “I’m not sure—­”

  His mouth found a sensitive spot on her ear. She moaned and sank deeper into the tub. “What’s that?”

  “Huh?” She shivered.

  “You were saying?”

  “I dunno. When you do that thing you’re doing there every thought just flies right out of my brain.”

  “Well, here. Let me do that again.”

  “Okay, but after tonight, we have to cool it for a while. All right?”

  “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he said, and tugged her under the water with him.

  SOMEHOW, SHE MANAGED to stay away from Luke on Friday. Small victory, yay! But honestly, it was because she started work at six A.M. and didn’t fall into bed until after midnight. During this entire week she’d probably slept a total of thirty hours. They had to take a break from each other or collapse from lack of sleep.

  On Saturday morning, Melody dressed for the heat in a red sundress and matching sandals and pulled her hair up in a loose chignon to keep it off her neck, put on a pair of silver earrings, and picked up her handbag. As she went out the door, she noticed that Luke had not spent the night at his condo.

  That was good, she told herself. Never mind the disappointment lodged in her belly. He needed to take care of his ranch, just as she needed to focus on her business. Making sure the Memorial Day weekend was a financial success. While tourism had picked up a bit because of the activities she’d advertised and orchestrated, and the stargazing party had been a success, it wasn’t enough. They needed a big influx of ­people and the sooner the better.

  She could do her job much better without the mayor underfoot distracting her.

  The sun was peeping over the horizon as she drove into town, parked in the Chamber of Commerce parking lot, killed the engine, and reached for her purse. It was already furnace-­hot and in just those few seconds after the air conditioner shut off, perspiration stuck tendrils of hair to her forehead, but the minute she got out of the car, the arid air evaporated it.

  “It’s
going to be okay,” she told herself. “Somehow you’ll pull this off.”

  The parade started at eight, followed by the bachelor auction, a community picnic, and in the evening, the Sadie Hawkins dance to be held at the community center gymnasium. And she was in charge of it all. Never mind. It’s what she was getting paid to do.

  ­People were passing by, most of them headed for the area where the floats were parked.

  “Good morning, Ms. Spencer.”

  She turned to see a grinning Luke coming toward her. He was dressed in his usual cowboy attire, but over his shoulder, he carried a tuxedo in a see-­through garment bag.

  “Hello, Mayor,” she said coolly, as if she hadn’t spent the entire last week learning every inch of this man’s naked body. “Preparing for the bachelor auction, I see.”

  He came closer.

  She tried not to react, but that was like saying she tried not to get thirsty in the desert.

  “Are you going to bid on me?” he asked.

  “What part of ‘secret’ affair confuses you?” she whispered. “I can’t bid on you.”

  “So you wouldn’t bid on me even if Widow Jones is the highest bidder?” he asked, referring to a bawdy local woman who’d once been a Vegas showgirl before becoming the trophy wife of wealthy Jeff Davis Country rancher, Virgil Jones. Senior citizen Virgil had died of a heart attack on his wedding night with a smile on his face, leaving his newly minted widow wildly wealthy and sex-­starved to boot.

  “Seriously?” she raised her voice. She didn’t want to appear conspiratorial to the casual passersby. There was most likely a Fant or Nielson among them somewhere. “I’d pay to see you on a date with Widow Jones. Maybe we could sell tickets. I’m always looking for a way to bring in tourists.”

  He narrowed his eyes, a faint grin slightly turning up the corners of his lips. “You’ve got a cruel streak, Melody Spencer, anyone ever tell you that?”

  “You’re the first,” she said, struggling to make it look like they were not friendly if anyone happened to overhear their conversation.

  “And too cool to stoop to bidding in a bachelor auction?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re missing out,” he promised.

  “On what?”

  “My date gets a home-­cooked dinner at Chez Nielson.”

  “You’re cooking?”

  He puffed out that magnificent chest; she tried not to stare. “I am.”

  “I’ll tell your date to be sure to put the poison control center on speed dial.” Of course she already knew he was a good cook. He’d cooked for her. Omelets and waffles. Spaghetti with homemade garlic cheese toast. But it couldn’t look like she had any idea he possessed mad cooking skills.

  “Hey,” he said, playing along. “For your information, I took cooking lessons and I make a mean chicken enchilada.”

  “You took cooking lessons?”

  “Of course. Women love a man who can cook.” He lowered his voice, leaned in. “You certainly do.”

  Melody made a show of rolling her eyes as a group of women strolled past. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do to get ready for this event.”

  “Well,” he said. “I better go start the parade. Mayoral duty.”

  “Yes. You do that.”

  He turned to go.

  “Luke?”

  He turned back, his simmering hazel eyes drilling into her. “Uh-­huh?”

  Why had she stopped him? She couldn’t say the words on the tip of her tongue—­I want you so badly I can taste it.

  “Yes?” he prompted.

  “Better stock up on condoms,” she teased. “I heard Widow Jones drinks Red Bull and takes a lot of B vitamins.”

  Chapter 20

  THE bachelor auction started at ten, right after the parade.

  Dressed in a tuxedo and feeling like a side of beef, he waited backstage with the other bachelors. Yes, the whole bachelor auction thing had been his idea, and he would do anything to help his hometown, but dressing up in a monkey suit hadn’t been his idea.

  Melody had insisted on the tuxedo. “We need to present you in a whole new light,” she’d said at Tuesday’s board meeting. “Elegance and style.”

  Yeah. He should have known. Packaging things to look pretty was her stock in trade.

  But why was he the only one stuck in a tuxedo? The Dallas Cowboys’ second-­string kicker, Domingo Diaz, got to wear his uniform, and so did the local fireman. The Chippendale’s model was dressed like a construction worker, and a rancher from Alpine wore Levi’s and a Stetson. Why had she insisted he wear the tux?

  Maybe that was her sexual fantasy. She went for the suave and debonair types. It made sense, but too bad for him. Suave wasn’t his style. He was cowboy all the way.

  He tugged at the bow tie.

  A click of high heels, a tsk of the tongue, the scent of exotic, sophisticated perfume, and there she was, standing in front of him, chocolate eyes, a tolerant smile, long blond hair cascading down her shoulders, a trim but shapely body that would drive him crazy if he let it.

  He scratched his palms. Hell, who was he trying to kid? Her body did drive him crazy.

  Melody stopped in front of him. The bodice of her pretty red sundress molded over the slope of impressive breasts. Wisps of hair curled around her face, softened her high cheekbones, and her mouth … oh that mouth!

  Damn him, it was the most kissable mouth on the planet—­full and wide and welcoming. When he looked at those lips, he remembered … one thing and one thing only.

  Sex.

  Honestly, it wasn’t just those hauntingly beautiful lips that made him think about sex, but rather, it was the total package—­from the endearingly bossy, I’m-­in-­charge-­here expression on her face, to the way she carried herself all regal and proud, to the vulnerable glint that came into her eyes when things weren’t going according to plan.

  Poor kid. Being a perfectionist in an imperfect world had to be hard. He wanted so badly to teach her that it was okay to be ordinary, that she had nothing to prove, that she was just fine as she was.

  He longed to muss her hair, to kiss her hard and smear that pristine lipstick, to make her call out his name again in hot, breathless pants. Yep, everything about this woman stirred him.

  Did she have any idea what she did to him? Wearing that little red dress held up by strips of material no thicker than a strand of linguini? He imagined chewing those straps right off her body, and licked his lips.

  She reached up, and for one blinding second he believed she was going to kiss him in public and he thought, I’m not going to fight it. His arms went up of their own accord to slide around her waist and …

  “Hold still,” she scolded. “Your tie is askew.”

  Ears burning, he dropped his arms. “It’s not like I wear one of these things every day,” he grumbled.

  Her nimble fingers readjusted his tie and she patted his lapel. “There.”

  The blue-­green vein at the hollow of her throat fluttered fast and hard, matching the tempo of his own pulse thundering through his temples.

  His dick hardened. The combination of her scent, that thin cotton dress, and those full lips unraveled him completely.

  Unable to keep staring at those tempting lips without losing his mind, he dropped his gaze and noticed with a jolt that, God bless her, she was wearing a camisole instead of a bra and he could see the outline of her nipples beaded up hard and taut. A gentleman would look away, but then again, Luke had never claimed to be a gentleman.

  He ogled.

  And she noticed.

  Frowning, Melody crossed her arms over her chest, hiding those lovely nipples from his sex-­starved view. It had only been since Thursday that they’d had sex, but it felt like a year.

  “Save it for the ladies bidding on you,” she teased.

  “Huh?” he said, feigning ignorance.

  She gave him a chiding look.

  “Okay,” he acknowledged and raised his palms. “I’m
a Neanderthal. I freely admit it.”

  “Some things never change.” Melody chuckled and moved on to the next bachelor in line. She beamed at the rancher, ran a hand over the man’s beard-­stubbled jaw. “Love the scuff, Clint. So will the ladies.”

  A sick feeling came over him, as if he’d just eaten a bushel of raw potatoes. Especially when Clint grinned at Melody and touched her ­shoulder.

  Deep inside, his inner Neanderthal stirred. He fisted his hands, fought the startling urge to punch the guy with a hard jab to the nose and lay him out flat on the cement floor.

  She went on to the next bachelor and then the next, commenting on their appearance, giving them auction block tips, smiling and touching and …

  Luke swallowed back the green bile that scaled his throat. He pictured himself pummeling every single man standing there just for looking at her, leaving them bloodied and broken. He wanted to scoop Melody in his arms and spirit her off. Claim her again. Make her his woman once and for all.

  Whoa! Hold up there.

  He wasn’t a jealous guy. He didn’t get jealous. He was laid back and easygoing. Just ask anyone. That’s one reason the damn family feud ate at him so much. He was a lover, not a fighter.

  Melody disappeared behind the curtain, getting ready to take the stage and start the auction. The hot rush of jealousy ebbed, but it left him jittery, as if he’d downed too much strong coffee in one sitting. He hadn’t experienced this shade of shakiness since pulling all-­nighters in college.

  The exit door opened, letting in a shaft of bright morning sun. A gaggle of giggling girls appeared in the hallway, clutching autograph books and ballpoint pens. When they spied the bachelors lounging backstage, they let out squeals and stampeded toward them.

  He expected them to be all over the Chippendale’s dancer and Domingo Diaz, which they were. What he did not expect was a trio of nubile young women sidling up to him.

  “Mayor Nielson?” one of the young women asked.

  He smiled automatically. “Yes?”

  “Can I have your autograph?”

  The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen and she gazed at him with adoring eyes. She was the same age Melody had been the first time he’d kissed her. Young. Far too young. It disturbed him to think she might have a crush on him. He knew the girl’s father. They went hunting together.