The three women clicked their glasses together. As Melanie drank her margarita, she counted her blessings. She never would have expected a down-home cowgirl would end up with a Prince Charming like Drew. But she’d learned that love could come along when a person least expected it. She hoped her friends would find that out soon, too.
Tempted by a Cowboy
ASTRID
One
“I can’t lose her.” Fletcher Grayson crouched beside the bay mare and stroked her sweat-dampened neck as she lay on her side in the foaling stall, her breath labored.
“We’re not going to lose her.” Astrid Lindberg was determined that both mare and foal would survive this night. Fletch had called her emergency line at ten p.m. It was a testimony to her lack of a social life that she’d been home on a Saturday night.
She’d rushed out to the Rocking G, driving through a summer downpour. It was what locals called a trash mover of a rain, falling in endless sheets of water. Four hours later, the rain continued to pound the roof of the barn, and Janis still hadn’t foaled.
Astrid had monitored the pregnant mare for weeks, ever since the first signs of edema. Because of the swelling, Janis’s abdomen was far more distended than it would have been in a normal pregnancy. The condition was worrisome, and recently Fletch had kept her confined to the barn and a small paddock to restrict her movements.
Some vets might have performed a C-section by now. Astrid preferred to see if Janis could deliver naturally, which would mean a better start for both mother and baby. Luckily Fletch agreed with her.
Fletch tended to agree with her on most things, which made her job as his vet much easier. It also made her life as a woman frustrating as hell. From her first glimpse of the broad-shouldered rancher, she’d been in trouble. Fletch Grayson was hot. And single. And a client. He was definitely off-limits.
“I think she wants to get up.” Fletch stood and backed away. Concern shone in his brown eyes. “I wish she’d just have that foal and be done with it.”
“Me, too.” Astrid rose and edged back as Janis lumbered to her feet. “Let’s move out of the stall and give her room to pace if she needs to.”
“Sure.” He followed her out and they leaned side by side against the front of the stall so they could observe the mare as she walked the perimeter of her enclosure.
Standing close together in this cozy barn watching Janis as the rain came down outside was the most natural thing in the world for them to be doing. Yet stormy nights always made Astrid long to be held, and it drove her crazy to be within touching distance of the yummy Mr. Grayson. She imagined the feel of all those muscles under his blue denim shirt and barely controlled a shiver.
He’d named his ranch the Rocking G because he had a fondness for classic rock and roll. This horse honored Janis Joplin, and the stable was filled with namesakes of other famous rockers. In Astrid’s opinion, Fletch was the one who rocked.
He’d hung his Stetson on a peg outside the stall. When he was nervous, he had a habit of running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair, which only made that wavy hair sexier. No one should look this good at two in the morning. Or smell this good. Fletch’s woodsy aftershave was one of the many things about him that made her pulse race.
He possessed a killer combo of square-jawed masculinity and a heart of gold. The same passionate love of animals that had propelled her into the field of veterinary medicine had caused him to sink all his savings into a horse-breeding operation. Although he was finally turning a profit, he did so only by carefully managing his budget.
They’d become so comfortable with each other during the six months she’d tended his horses that he’d shared major decisions, such as when he’d postponed the purchase of a new truck so he could install more efficient heating in the horse barn. She treasured those long conversations, even though they stirred up inappropriate thoughts. Would he be even better at pillow talk?
But she also treasured her professional standing in the Dallas area, so she wouldn’t be sharing a pillow with gorgeous Fletch Grayson. It was hard enough for a girl to be taken seriously as a vet in Texas, even harder for someone like Astrid, the daughter of a rich family. Besides, she didn’t know if he would welcome that idea. Sometimes she imagined him looking at her with interest, but that might have been wishful thinking on her part.
“One thing’s for sure,” he said. “I won’t breed her again. She deserves a rest.”
“Yes, she does.” Although he didn’t know it, Astrid could offer to invest in his ranch and eliminate most of his money problems. She constantly battled the urge to do exactly that. But giving him money would change their relationship forever, and she selfishly wanted to keep that relationship as it was, even if friendship was all she’d ever have.
None of her clients realized she came from a wealthy family, and she preferred it that way. She’d learned from sad experience that being worth millions usually affected how people viewed her. She wanted to be seen as a competent professional who took her vocation seriously.
She might not need the money she earned, but she considered it validation that she was good at her job. Her parents wished she’d spend less time at work and more time at social events looking for eligible billionaires to marry. She didn’t care to take the time right now. Eventually she’d want a home and kids, and she’d probably end up with a wealthy man. Her mother thought that was the only way to avoid hooking up with a fortune hunter, and there was some truth in that.
“Good, she’s lying down again.” Fletch went back into the stall. “Maybe this is it.”
“Fingers crossed.” Astrid picked up her bag and followed him.
He walked around behind the horse and glanced over at Astrid. “I hate that you have to be up so late, but I really need—”
“Don’t give it another thought. I want to be here.” Janis, and Fletch’s concern for his favorite brood mare, had been her priority for some time. She’d reluctantly canceled a trip to Paris with her girlfriends because Janis’s condition had been unstable. Now they were down to the wire, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here in this stall with the mare . . . and Fletch.
He hadn’t owned the ranch long, only about three years, but he’d been a cowhand all his adult life, and the Rocking G was evidence of his ability to work hard toward a goal. She admired his grit more than she could say. Compared to him, she’d encountered no real obstacles in her quest to become a vet, unless she counted the expectations of her parents. They weren’t pleased that she’d chosen a profession that included getting covered in blood and occasionally horse manure.
Although their snooty attitudes bothered her, she loved them deeply and couldn’t deny how much they’d done for her, in spite of their disapproval of her choices. They’d paid for her extensive schooling, and her trust fund had financed her clinic. To completely ignore their wishes and advice on marriage would be ungrateful.
But sometimes she wished that she could be what Fletch assumed her to be—a self-made woman in the same way he was a self-made man. She wondered if he’d respect her as much if he knew her career had been handed to her on a silver platter. Maybe he wouldn’t care. He seemed open-minded about most things. Still, she wasn’t ready to test it.
For now, they had a birth to attend. And finally, Janis appeared ready to get the job done. Astrid knelt behind her and said a little prayer. This was the moment of truth. If the mare couldn’t manage this on her own, Astrid was prepared to intervene, but that would require methods that would stress both mother and baby.
Fletch stroked Janis’s neck as he’d done before and crooned encouraging words.
“That’s good,” Astrid said. “Keep talking to her.” She had a sudden flash of what he’d be like in the delivery room waiting for his own child. He’d be solid as a rock, but empathetic, too.
“I’d sing her ‘The Rose,’ except my singing has been known to st
ampede cattle.”
Astrid smiled. “I love that song.” She wasn’t surprised that he did, too. They connected on so many levels.
“You wouldn’t after I finished singing it. You’d beg for mercy.”
“Talking works just fine. I’m sure she senses your confidence in her.” So did Astrid. Knowing he trusted her with an animal he loved did wonders for her self-esteem.
“I hope so. But I have to tell you, I’m sweating bullets.”
“Join the club.”
And then Janis groaned, heaved, and just like that, the process started. No matter how many times Astrid witnessed the birth of a foal, she was awed by the first thrust of tiny forelegs, followed by a nose, a neck, and finally, the entire baby horse, all wrapped in a glistening, semi-transparent membrane.
Eleven months of effort culminated in one glorious miracle. She and Fletch had worried about this event for weeks, but the foaling, as with most equine births, took less than twenty minutes.
“Beautiful,” Astrid murmured.
“Are we good down there?”
“We’re good. We’re so good.” Astrid’s chest tightened with gratitude. “Janis has a beautiful baby.”
“Thank God.” Fletch’s voice was thick with emotion.
Astrid glanced up and caught a moment he might not have meant her to see. He buried his face against the mare’s neck and murmured something she couldn’t hear. Not wanting to embarrass him, she returned her focus to the foal, which seemed perfectly formed and healthy.
Janis had been Fletch’s first brood mare, and the horse had obviously won his heart with her gentle disposition. He cared about the foal, too, but his biggest concern had been for Janis. Convinced that neither mare nor foal was in distress, Astrid scooted away to let Janis attend to her baby.
Fletch also sat back on his heels as the horse maneuvered so that she could lick her newborn clean. He gazed at the foal. “It’s a colt.”
“Yep. The ultrasound was right. You never can know for sure with those.”
A grin lit his face. “And four white socks, like his mother’s.”
“He’ll look a lot like her.”
“I’d hoped for that. And now it’s official. Buddy Holly is in residence at the Rocking G.”
Astrid laughed. “Yes, he certainly is. They both seem to be doing great.”
“I can order the nameplate for his stall now. I was too superstitious to do it before.” Fletch’s glance sought hers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But after all, it’s my job.”
“I know, but you don’t treat it like a job. My previous vet did, which was why I stopped using him. I’ve watched you work with these animals. You put your heart and soul into it.”
She couldn’t imagine higher praise than that. “I love my work. That makes me a lucky lady.”
“And I’m lucky to have found you.”
Dear God, there was something more than friendship in those warm brown eyes. She swallowed. “Fletch . . .”
“I know.” His jaw firmed. “You’re my vet. I’m a client. I understand the parameters, but damn it, Astrid, does that mean we can’t . . .”
Her heart beat as if she were a wild creature suddenly trapped in a net. “I think it does mean that.”
“I could fire you.”
“You could.” That wouldn’t remove all the barriers. She’d still be a very rich woman and he would be a financially strapped rancher. But he didn’t know about that issue.
“I don’t want to fire you.” He got to his feet. “You’re a fantastic vet, a thousand times better than the guy I had before. I can’t imagine having anyone else now that I’ve seen how you work.”
She took a deep breath and stood, too. “I don’t want you to fire me, either.” She looked into his eyes, which mirrored the frustration she felt. “I love having you as a client.”
“Can’t I be a client and something more, too? Who has to know? I’m certainly not going to make a big deal about it.”
“Okay, let’s say we’re discreet.” She picked up her bag and walked out of the stall. “What if we discover somewhere down the line that we’re not right for each other? What happens to our client-vet relationship then?” She put down the bag and turned to face him as he stepped into the aisle.
His stance was wide, his expression calm, the epitome of confident male. “We wouldn’t discover that. You and I get along great.”
“In this setting, we do, but . . .”
“But what?”
She pictured dragging him to some charity ball hosted by her wealthy friends, or coaxing him to attend the opening of a show by some new darling of the Dallas art community. She’d been inside Fletch’s home. He liked Western artists like Remington and Shoofly. He also didn’t seem like the tux-wearing type, but now wasn’t the time to reveal the difference in their lifestyles.
“Are you worried that we might not get along in bed?”
Oh, boy. Her hesitation had led him to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t worried about that at all. “I—”
“Lady, we would burn up the sheets.” He smiled as he took a step closer. “And you damned well know we would.”
“Maybe.” The nearer he came, the faster her heart beat. It seemed to keep time with the rapid tattoo of the rain on the roof.
He chuckled. “I guarantee you do. I can see it in those baby blues. I wasn’t sure until this minute, when I finally got the courage to broach the subject, but we’re on the same page, you and I.”
“Okay, so I’m attracted to you, but acting on that attraction would be a really bad idea.”
He nodded. “You could be right. But that doesn’t keep me from wanting to kiss you.”
Oh. She should protest, should move back, out of the magic circle he’d created with his considerable charm. But she couldn’t seem to do that.
“I know you have reservations about getting involved with me.” He reached for her and cupped her face in his big hands.
She closed her eyes. That touch . . . so gentle, yet sure. She’d imagined his touch for so long, and now she allowed herself to savor it.
“I respect that,” he murmured. “So for now, all I ask is one kiss, to celebrate the arrival of a new foal.”
One kiss. One little kiss. Surely she could indulge herself a wee bit without compromising her principles. And they had successfully navigated Janis’s problem pregnancy. They both deserved a reward for that.
“One kiss.” His warm breath caressed her mouth, and his thumb brushed across her lower lip, urging her to open to him.
She didn’t need much urging. Here in the privacy of his barn, shrouded by rain and darkness, she could act out a fantasy months in the making. Yes. She’d kiss Fletcher Grayson.
And if this was the only liberty she ever allowed herself with this man, she would give it all she had.
Two
When Astrid parted her lips and issued a silent invitation for Fletch to invade that sweet mouth, a hot stab of lust nearly swamped his noble intentions. He beat back the red haze short-circuiting his brain. If he came on too strong now, he could ruin his chances in the future.
The effort of holding back made him tremble, but he managed to touch down gently. He couldn’t stop the groan that rumbled deep in his chest, though. His mouth fit hers with a kind of perfection he’d never known before.
As he settled in, the contact was so right that he became a little dizzy with the pleasure of it. The hitch in her breathing told him she wasn’t immune, either. That ate at his control, but he wouldn’t grab her and haul her into an empty stall mounded with fresh hay.
If he did that, they’d both be guilty of neglecting Janis and her foal. And he’d have broken his promise to give her one kiss, and one kiss only. He prided himself on being a man of his word.
Slowly, keeping himself in check, he
began to explore her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like the coffee they’d had earlier, and the raspberry Life Savers he’d taken from his pocket to share with her. When he thrust his tongue deeper, she moaned.
That moan nearly undid him. Any woman who made that kind of sound would not object if he turned one kiss into two, or twenty. He sensed her surrender and fought not to take advantage of it. It was late. She was tired. Her defenses were down. Most important of all, Janis still needed them.
But her lips were so ripe, so ready. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d slid both hands from her cheeks to her collarbone. Unless he put those hands to work somewhere else, he’d go lower. He’d cup her breasts, and then he’d unbutton her blouse. After that, all bets would be off.
Until he lifted his mouth, though, he was still involved in that one kiss he’d asked for. So he deepened that kiss and went to work on the clip she’d used to fasten her hair. Taking down her golden, silky hair wasn’t the same as stripping away her clothes.
Or so he told himself. Yet his blood heated as his fingers encountered those soft strands and released them from the clasp. He let it drop and delved into those tresses with greedy hands. He’d wanted to release her hair and feel its softness ever since they’d met.
She’d always imprisoned it in some way, either with a clip, a bandanna, or a tie. He understood the practicality of that while she worked, but he’d longed for this—to stroke her unbound hair and let it sift through his fingers. Her hair made him think of sunbeams, and the tactile pleasure of touching it caused him to imagine caressing her bare skin and kissing those tender, moist places that would inspire more moaning.
They would be good together. He knew it with an unshakable certainty. But willing as she might be now, if she lost track of her duty to her patient, she’d hate herself and him. That was no way to begin a love affair.
With thoughts of their shared responsibility to the mare and her foal, he lifted his head and stepped back, releasing her. His breathing was unsteady, but thank God, so was hers. He wasn’t in this alone.
The Perfect Man Page 10