Dusty: Wild Cowboy

by Cathy McDavid

  Maryanne had been so wrapped up in Dusty selling his screenplay, she’d forgotten what his option deal could mean for their relationship. He’d likely visit L.A. regularly over the next few months or even years. And if he sold another screenplay, which wasn’t impossible once he established himself, he’d be visiting even more regularly.

  Perhaps Markton, Wyoming, wasn’t so far away from L.A. after all, and the prospect of them having a future together not so bleak.

  “I can’t wait.” She threw her arms around his neck. “There’s so much we can do, so many places I can’t wait to show you.”

  His eyes turned dark and smoky like they had earlier during their picnic. In the next instant, he bent his head and kissed her.

  She wasn’t prepared for the instantaneous fireworks that followed.

  The low groan emanating from Dusty’s throat told her neither was he.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maryanne held on to Dusty for without him, she’d be swept away. He wasn’t her anchor in the surge of desire overpowering them, he was the source of it. And she was helpless—make that unwilling—to resist its heady pull.

  Since their first meeting that day in the practice arena when her father fell, she’d been cautioning herself against becoming involved with Dusty. Not only because she was leaving soon. She also feared he wouldn’t return her feelings or return them for long.

  Except he did. Even as they kissed, he told her how much he cared for her in sweet, lovely words whispered against her mouth, the hair at her temple, the base of her neck. She arched into him, molding her soft curves to his hard muscles. The sensation sent silky ripples winding through her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said in that slight twang of his she found so appealing and slipped his hand under her blouse.

  The skin to skin contact was electrifying.

  Tugging open the snaps on his Western shirt, she placed her mouth on the patch of bare chest showing above the edge of his undershirt. A whirl of soft brown hair tickled her lips.

  He drew back suddenly and covered her hands with his, staying them.

  She lifted her face and searched his blue eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want you, Maryanne.” He let out a breath. “So much, I can’t stand it.”

  She could tell, and she liked being the reason for his obvious and undeniable arousal. “I want you, too.”

  “This won’t be a one-night stand for me. If it is for you, then we need to stop right now while I still can.”

  And here she’d been worried all along he didn’t share her feelings.

  “It’s not a one-night stand for me, either.” She laid her head on his chest and listened to his pounding heart. This is for me, she thought. For us. “I want to keep seeing you. For the rest of my stay here and when you come to L.A.”

  “You don’t know how much I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He set her back from him and promptly unfastened the rest of his shirt. Shrugging out of it, he flung it aside. His undershirt followed. When he was done, he stood before her, bare chested and dangerously sexy. It wasn’t his lack of clothes, however, that had warmth curling in her belly. Or the prospect of what was about to transpire. It was the way he looked at her. As if she were everything to him.

  And in that moment, she was.

  She considered falling back onto the couch and taking him with her. He evidently had other ideas. Maryanne wasn’t exactly short but when he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the apartment, she felt tiny and cherished.

  In the bedroom, he laid her on the large four-poster bed. She was too preoccupied with her escalating desire for much of anything else about the room to register. Except for the sunlight. Lots and lots of it poured through the open window.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said and kissed her forehead.

  She sat up. “Where are you going?”

  “Not far.”

  At the window, he closed the drapes partway. Like that, the room was thrown into semidarkness—the seductive kind that promised myriad delights.

  He reached for his belt buckle.

  Maryanne scooted to the edge of the bed. “Wait.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “Not at all.” She rose onto her knees and linked her arms around his neck. “There’s only one first time for two people.” She smiled coyly and nibbled at his earlobe. “I don’t want to hurry.”

  He made a sound, a low, throaty groan, and lowered her onto the bed. “Oh, baby, we’ll take all the time you want.”

  And they did. Slowly, one piece at a time, the remainder of their clothing came off until they were both naked atop the luxurious down comforter. Pillows surrounded them and, like the closed drapes, cocooned them from the outside world, allowing all of Maryanne’s inhibitions to fade away.

  Dusty’s hands, bold and skilled, roamed her body. He murmured his appreciation at each new discovery. The feminine slope of her hips, the shape and heft of her breasts, the curve of her buttocks, the silky skin between her thighs. She hid nothing from him and when his fingers delved inside her, she sighed contentedly, then moaned with need.

  “What do you like best?” he asked.

  Because she knew how important it was to him that she be satisfied, she told him.

  His sexy smile took on a wicked slant. “I like that, too.”

  Then he was moving down her body, burning a trail on her fevered flesh with his lips, teeth and tongue. At his urging, she parted her legs, and placed his mouth where his hand had been moments before.

  Liquid heat poured through her, and she moved her hips in response to his expert ministrations. Weeks of fighting her attraction to him gave way, and she began to peak quickly.

  “Easy, sweetheart.” He blew a cooling breath on her moist skin. “Like you said, we only have one first time together.”

  She tried to hold off, really she did. But no sooner was his mouth on her again than she began hurtling toward a shattering climax. He stayed with her until the last wave had crashed over her, then retraced the same path up her body that he’d taken down.

  When he reached her breasts, he took a pebbled nipple between his lips and flicked his tongue over it. Maryanne squirmed against him. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge again.

  Except that she had her own plans for Dusty.

  Pulling him to her, she kissed him, her tongue tasting every corner of his mouth. Instantly, his muscles tensed and his erection pressed firmly into her lower belly.

  Her hand snaked between their bodies and closed around him.

  He uttered her name on a ragged moan. “Keep that up, and I won’t last.”

  “We can’t have that.” She smiled and released him. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”

  “What?”

  Actions, she decided, spoke louder than words. Giving him a gentle shove, she rolled him onto his back and straddled his thighs. Once he was sufficiently trapped beneath her, she moistened her palm with her tongue and took his erection in her hand.

  “Now it’s your turn,” she purred, stroking lightly. “Tell me what you like.”

  Because Dusty wasn’t shy, either, he told her, and Maryanne was delighted to accommodate him.

  She took great pleasure in watching his response as she dipped her head and slid her tongue along the length of his shaft. The lines around his gorgeous mouth hardened. The color of his blue eyes darkened to an inky black. She was curious just how far she could take him before he passed the point of no return.

  Apparently, not much further.

  “Wait.” He groaned.

  “You sure?” she teased.

  “There’s only one first time for two people, remember?” He reached over with one arm to the nightstand. Opening the drawer, he withdrew a condom. “For us, today, I’m going to be inside you.”

  Maryanne melted. “That’s what I want, too.”


  Ripping open the packet, he quickly sheathed himself. When he was done, she leaned forward, thinking she would guide him inside her. She was certainly ready. Dusty, however, had other ideas. Before she quite knew what was happening, he flipped her onto her back, pinned her beneath him and parted her legs with his knee.

  “I haven’t been able to think of anything else except this since Albuquerque.”

  She lifted her hips in invitation. “Only since then?”

  He drove inside her and immediately began moving.

  Maryanne inhaled sharply at the sudden and powerful sensations their joining evoked. She realized in that instant, no man would ever be like Dusty, no lovemaking like this, and that her life was forever and irrevocably altered.

  He showed her with tender caresses and sweet, sweet kisses how much she, and this moment, meant to him. Then he showed her with ever increasing urgency how much she excited him. Cupping her buttocks in his hands, he lifted her to meet his thrusts. The sensation was exquisite. She could only imagine how it must feel to him.

  Sifting her fingers through his hair, she drew him down for yet another searing kiss. The contact wasn’t enough, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, sealing their physical connection along with their emotional one. After that, maintaining any semblance of control was a lost cause. With a shuddering cry, Dusty came inside her. She didn’t let go of him, even when his spasms ceased, and he lay prone on top of her, unmoving except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  As one moment stretched into two, she shifted to a more comfortable position. When he still said nothing, she began to worry. Did he regret making love with her? Oh, please no. It had been too wonderful, too incredible for stilted conversation and averted gazes. She considered saying something cute or clever, just to break the ice.

  “Dusty?” she finally whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you…um…is everything okay?”

  “Shh. I’m not ready yet.”

  “For what?”

  “This to end.” He rolled off of her then and lay beside her, his leg draped over hers with a comfortable familiarity. “But I guess it has to.”

  Her anxiety instantly vanished. “Somebody’s bound to notice. We’ve been gone a long time.”

  “We could stay holed up here.” He turned and traced his fingertips between her breasts and down to her stomach.

  “My father’s expecting me.”

  “When exactly?” He drew invisible circles around her belly button. “Now, actually.”

  “You could call him. Tell him you’re going to be late.”

  “I could.”

  Dusty sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “If you did, that would give us time to talk.”

  MARYANNE SAT UP, TOO, mildly concerned. She wouldn’t have guessed a conversation to be what Dusty had in mind.

  “Talk about what?” she asked.

  He hooked an arm around her waist. “Plans for my trip to L.A.”

  So, he was coming. For real. The afternoon became even more special for it marked the beginning of their relationship, one with an indefinite end.

  “When does the producer want to see you?” she asked.

  “He’s going to send the contract. I’m supposed to call his secretary tomorrow with the address. Once I’ve reviewed it—”

  “You need to contact Herb,” she interrupted.

  He nodded. “Once my agent and I review it, we’ll send it back with any changes. I’m guessing I’ll be flying out mid- or late-October.”

  “That quick!”

  “Too quick?” Dusty’s brows came together. “You weren’t lying about there being no boyfriend?”

  “Not at all.” She gave him a playful tap on the arm. “If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Neither would I if I had a girlfriend.” He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He linked fingers with her. The simple gesture warmed Maryanne.

  “I won’t lie, most of what people have told you about me is true. Was true. I haven’t been with anyone since last year. Like I said, I did ask Josie to marry me a while ago. But that was strictly for Matt’s sake. She and I…we didn’t. Not even kiss. Not since I saw her in L.A.”

  She hadn’t known Dusty then and had no reason to be jealous yet somehow the knowledge he and Josie hadn’t been intimate for five years filled her with relief.

  “I’m not assuming that just because I’ll be visiting you in L.A. means I can stay with you. I’ll get a hotel—”

  She covered his lips with her fingers. “You can stay with me. I want you to.”

  “You sure?”

  She brightened. “You’ve shown me around your home. Now, I’ll get to show you mine. You’ll love L.A. Yes, it’s the most polluted city in the country but it’s also fun and exciting, and there’s a million things to do and see. Oh, and the food. We have the most fantastic restaurants. Do you like sushi? There’s this incredible place near—”

  Now it was his turn to silence her. Only he did it with a kiss.

  “Speaking of restaurants, have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I wish I could. I already told Dad we’d go out. Mom’s birthday was this week, and he’s been a little down.”

  “He can come with us.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I’ll pick the two of you up at six-thirty. How’s that?”

  She kissed his cheek. “Perfect.”

  He checked his watch then reached for her, his grin seductive and his eyes brimming with mischief. “Which gives us three-and-a-half hours.”

  “Uh-uh.” She scooted back. “I have to make that call to Dad, tell him I’ll be late. And you have to call Herb about repping you or recommending someone who will.”

  Before she could make her escape, a phone rang from somewhere on the floor.

  “Maybe that’s your dad,” Dusty said. “Calling me to check up on his daughter’s whereabouts.”

  “Don’t even joke about that!” The prospect of her father finding out about her and Dusty making love mortified Maryanne. She may be a grown woman but she was still Gil Devonshire’s little girl.

  Dusty rummaged around on the floor for his jeans. He found them and managed to locate his phone by the fourth ring. Checking the caller ID, he scowled and sat back on the bed.

  “Not your dad. It’s mine.” He placed the phone to his ear. “Hello.” A considerable silence followed during which Dusty’s scowl deepened. “Yes.” More silence. “That’s right.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can’t. I have plans.” Still, more silence. “Fine. I’ll be there.” He disconnected.

  Maryanne edged closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “Problems?”

  “We’re going to have to put a hold on the rest of the afternoon.” He started collecting his clothes. “It appears the moment of truth has arrived.”

  “What happened?” Maryanne found her bra and panties and slipped into them. The turn their conversation had taken called for being dressed.

  “The message from Ken Casey’s secretary was apparently detailed.” Dusty stood and donned his boxer briefs, then his jeans. “Barbara told my dad about it.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Dad wants to know—” Dusty lowered his voice to mimic his father “—just what the hell is going on. He’s waiting for me now in his study.”

  IN THE TIME IT TOOK DUSTY to dress, walk Maryanne to her vehicle, make sure she got off safe and sound and drive to his parents’ house, his father had managed to round up his mother, Dex and Jesse for the meeting.

  Dusty recognized a power play when he saw one. Walker and Elly hadn’t been invited not because they were unavailable but because they might possibly understand Dusty’s ambition to write or at least not be opposed to it. His father had made sure his camp outnumbered Dusty’s.

  He didn’t care. He’d just received the best news of his life, next to finding ou
t he had a son, and spent the last hour with Maryanne, discovering an intimacy infinitely more special than any previous ones.

  Bring it on, Dad, he thought as he walked confidently into his father’s study. I can handle it.

  Dex and Jesse sat on the long cowhide couch which dominated the room, their boots resting on the highly polished coffee table. His mother occupied a matching chair adjacent to the couch, and his father stood at the small wet bar, pouring himself a drink. Irish whiskey over ice, his usual.

  “A little early for hard liquor, isn’t it, Dad?” Dusty said, taking the offensive. “Not to mention unhealthy. I thought your doctor told you to cut back.”

  “Don’t start with me.”

  How often had Dusty heard that?

  His father gestured toward the door. “Shut that, will you.”

  So, it was going to be a loud conversation. Dusty shouldn’t be surprised. His father seldom took a quiet stand.

  He retraced his steps to the door and closed it, his resentment growing. In other families, this gathering would be entirely different. They would be congratulating Dusty on his accomplishment. Not the Codys. He was seen as breaking tradition. Letting the family down. The black sheep.

  “Have a seat,” his father said.

  Someone had brought in a lone dining room chair and positioned it across from the sofa. Dusty had the immediate impression of being on a witness stand. Make that an interrogation.

  “No, thanks. I’ll stand.”

  “What the heck’s going on?” Jesse demanded, looking first at Dusty then their father. “I’ve got a pile of work orders to go through at the office.”

  Dex’s expression was similarly perplexed.

  Interesting. His father hadn’t told his brothers about the screenplay. Did he not have time or was that all part of the plan?

  “Dusty received a phone call here today,” J.W. started. “From a producer at Sundown Pictures.”

  “I’ll tell them,” Dusty said.

  His father visibly started at the interruption, then stiffened. He didn’t like people stealing his thunder.

  “What’s going on?” Dex echoed Jesse’s question. “Are you leaving again for Canada? Because we’ve got the Oklahoma City Rodeo coming up next month.”