by Lucy Farago
Daniel stood in the bathroom doorway, steam billowing out from behind him, like some god emerging from heavenly clouds, his hand clutching a knotted towel that sat low, very low, on a pair of spectacular hips. And where that hand was, she shouldn’t be staring. But heaven on earth, she, unlike whoever had created him, was only human. She forced her eyes to climb up that amazing stomach and long body, and, she could point out, it wasn’t her fault it took several seconds to meet his gaze. The man was really tall.
“You?” he asked, trying to coax what must now be her open mouth into finishing her sentence.
“I…uh…” What was she going to say? Oh yes. “I knocked.”
“I didn’t hear. The water is running. I don’t know about your room but the shower in mine is wild. Four jets. I like me a good shower,” he said, completely unabashed by his almost nudity.
She decided the best course of action was to concentrate on a spot behind his head and focus on it. Trouble was there was so much steam coming out of the room it was hard to find something. “I think I should leave. Let you shower. Why don’t you knock on my door when you’re done?” She headed for the door, relieved and yet disappointed she was no longer forced to stare at that amazing body.
“What if I walk in on you showering?” he said, the amusement in his voice mortifying her even more. He was laughing at her.
She ignored it. “I shower really fast. I’m in, I’m out,” she said, her hand never more grateful to be on a doorknob.
“Pity.”
She hesitated, came to her senses, and left. He was just teasing her, nothing more.
Cowboy stared at the bedroom door, a smile on his face. He was playing with fire. He’d known she was in his room, had heard her call his name. Had even thought about not covering up. But his horn-dog days were done and she wasn’t some rodeo bunny looking for a good time. But damn, when she’d looked at him the way she did…he’d seriously considered dropping the towel and showing her exactly how glad he was to see her.
He’d gone to sleep thinking what a dumbass move it had been to kiss her. He’d thought it a simple gesture. He hadn’t stuck his tongue down her throat. So why had it made him want more? And then she went and kissed him back. He didn’t chase women, and not once in his life had he made a move on one not knowing she’d welcome it. It wasn’t ego. He just couldn’t have anyone who spent time with him thinking it was forever. It was better if they made the first move. When he or the rodeo moved on, he could tell himself they’d gone after him. Lame. But he’d been a guy on the run and his mother had taught him better. You didn’t use women. Then what was a man to do when you wanted company and the next town loomed? You told yourself you made no promises, nor did you instigate anything. Even as he got older and knew better, the habit stuck.
He returned to the bathroom, telling himself to forget how her eyes had lingered on his body. He’d never been one to strut his stuff, but she’d made him want to beat his chest… then toss her on the bed. After showering with cold water, he dressed in the now pressed clothes from last night, taking his time so she too would be ready to talk. She’d come into his room for a reason and as much as he’d like to imagine she’d had more naughty ideas on her mind, he doubted it. He didn’t think he’d need his gun, but he’d worn his cowboy boots, so in it went. First rule Ryan had taught him: Be prepared. After what had happened with Jessie, he didn’t have to be told twice. As he left the room his phone vibrated with an incoming text from Monty. “Call me.”
He smiled. Whatever Monty wanted, good or bad, it was progress. First, he needed to know why Grace had come to his room.
Grace answered on the first knock. Had she been waiting for him? Probably didn’t want him catching her naked. She’d showered, the tips of her hair evidence of that. She’d changed into the dress she’d worn to dinner. He liked the dress, but he’d liked her in his clothes more. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” Her face turned rosy.
He should tell her she had nothing to be embarrassed about but that would probably only make her even more so.
“Come on in.” She moved aside, allowing him to enter.
Her room was similar to his, only she’d been given a queen size bed and he a king. Guess it figured, considering his height. She’d tidied the covers and folded his shorts and t-shirt, now piled on a chair in one corner. The curtains were open and he could see this room faced the side lawns with a clear view of the grazing fields beyond.
Thinking it best just to get right to it he asked, “Why the early morning visit?”
“I have something to tell you.” She took a seat on the bed, her hands tucked under her thighs as she leaned forward.
What had happened between last night and this morning? “What?”
“I overheard Lyle speaking to someone on the telephone.”
“This morning? When did he show up?” He adjusted the clothes on the chair and sat.
“I’m not sure.” She glanced down at the floor, the white carpet suddenly fascinating. “I assumed it was the senator until I heard him speak.”
What had she done? “Assumed? Didn’t you see him?”
She shook her head, failing to elaborate.
“Grace? Why did you not see who it was? Or more precisely, how were you snooping on good ole Lyle?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said, finally tearing her gaze off the floor.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear this.
“I couldn’t sleep. I got up and…you know, looked around. I thought the extravagant office belonged to the senator.”
“No, his is more modern, more practical. If you were in the room with dark paneling, that’s Lyle’s.”
“Yeah, I figured that out when he came in,” she said, her eyes growing wide, remembering.
He tensed. “He caught you.”
“No, thank God. I was by the French doors and was able to duck behind the heavy curtains.”
He didn’t even want to think what could have happened had the old man found her. “I thought I asked you to be careful.”
“It was early. How was I to know he’d come home?”
“Fair enough.” He still wasn’t happy but she had a point.
“Anyway, he made a call. Whoever it was is on Lyle’s shit list. He told him, in no uncertain words, to find him.”
“Do you have any clue who it was?”
She shook her head. “No idea. He asked the guy if he’d done what he’d been told to do. I guess he didn’t like his answer because he said time was running out and I quote ‘find him or you’ll wish you had.’ And he told him to put more men on the job, money wasn’t an issue. He really, really wants whoever this person is found.”
Well, this was an interesting turn of events. “And you heard all of this while hiding behind a curtain?”
“I know, I know. But nothing happened. Please, let’s not go there. So? Any ideas as to who he wants found?”
He scraped the palm of his hand across his chin, realizing he’d forgotten to shave. “With only that to go on? No. And although all this is interesting, it doesn’t help find your friend. You didn’t happen to hear him say where he was last night, did you?”
“No, I’ve told you everything I overheard. Do you think it’s important?”
“I don’t know, but if he returned home early this morning, he must’ve been trapped somewhere by the storm.”
“I guess your friend didn’t get back to you.”
He didn’t want to lie to her. So far, he believed she’d been forthcoming with him. But he couldn’t be a hundred percent truthful either. He couldn’t have her getting in the way, for his sake and mostly for hers. If her father didn’t want her around the Stantons, he had to have good reason. Otherwise, why not keep her occupied snooping where the cops knew she wasn’t going to get hurt? “I haven’t talk to him yet. When do you want to head back to the hotel?”
“After I speak to the senator.” With a heavy sigh, she threw herself back onto to the bed. “I a
m no closer to finding Jessie than I was yesterday. What the hell did I think I’d find? A neon arrow pointing me in the right direction?”
“No,” he said, rising from his chair and lying down on the bed beside her, his feet dangling off the end, like old friends commiserating. “This made you feel like you were helping. Doing something, anything to help find her. It’s a hell of a lot better than sitting on your ass and doing squat.”
“Sounds like you would know,” she said, turning her head to face him.
“I’ve never been one to stand idly by if someone needs my help.”
“Like me,” she pointed out.
He smiled. “Like you.”
She returned his smile, looking a little embarrassed. “I was kidding. I’m not the charitable sort. Jessie is the do-gooder.”
He doubted Grace didn’t have a heart. “You don’t do good deeds?”
She moved her head from side to side. “She tried to get me to volunteer at the food kitchens or shelters, but I always came up with a good excuse.”
And now her friend was missing. He could only imagine the repercussions if Jessie wasn’t found alive. He propped himself on one elbow to hover over her. “So, what? You kick puppies?”
“No.” She laughed. “But I don’t go out of my way to be charitable either. Don’t get me wrong. I donate to most anything to do with kids. They’re innocent of the bullshit, and occasionally if a cause grabs my attention I open my wallet, but I see it as being practical. Send a kid to camp and maybe, just maybe, they won’t end up a statistic. I don’t do it to be nice.”
And why wasn’t he buying her reasons? “Your dad send you to camp?”
“Sure.”
“Boot camp?” Considering what Grace had told him, he wouldn’t have put it past Irvine.
“Don’t think he didn’t try, but no,” she answered. “My camps didn’t teach you to braid friendship bracelets, though. I learned survival skills and, for a fun time, how to flip a canoe while we were still in it. How to make a shelter, do first aid, and so on. I was one of the few girls who wasn’t squeamish about blood. Can’t tell you how many bloody noses I helped tape.”
“Sounds a little Hunger Games to me.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“And roasting marshmallow over campfires? Was that out too?”
“No.” She flicked his chin playfully with her fingertips.
It felt… natural…like they’d known each longer than two days.
“On the plus side,” she said, “I was the only seventh grader who could build a fire with just two sticks.” She laughed. “The Boy Scouts had nothing on me.”
“Well, you never know when the need will arise.” Speaking from experience, he knew it was a great skill to have. She might not appreciate everything her father had done, but as a kid who’d had to survive on the street, he’d wished someone had taken the time to teach him how to make it on his own.
“Were you a Boy Scout?”
“Me? Hell no.” His dad had figured whatever he needed to learn, working the ranch would teach him.
“Really? Because you seem eager to lend a hand. People today don’t have that quality. You’re so…nice.”
And if she found out he was being paid by her father, would she think him ‘nice’? He’d be more proof that the world was made up of assholes. But he wasn’t an asshole. He was doing his job. Irvine had instructed him not to tell his daughter who he was. Why, he didn’t understand, but he wasn’t paid to. “Trust me,” he said, leaning in. “I’m no Boy Scout.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t about to admit he’d killed a man simply to prove a point to her.
“See, I think you’re lying.”
Considering no one except Monty knew his real name, most everyone assumed he was running from something or someone. If being a Boy Scout meant he’d had to learn survival skills, then that was him, but he doubted that was her thinking pattern. “Why’s that?” he asked, curious about her answer.
“Because…a not so nice man would have kissed me by now.”
Instead of throwing him, her sexy grin set his skin on fire.
“Grace, you have no idea what you’ve set into motion.” Then he proved how much of a real man he was. Last night’s thunderstorm was light rain compared to what her mouth did to him. He kissed her like there was no going home. He didn’t play fair. If she wanted a kiss, she was getting the best damn kiss of her life. He parted her lips and possessed her mouth. “Damn, you taste good,” he muttered into her mouth, refusing to give up her lips.
“So do you,” she returned.
Was it him, or was she as eager to keep kissing him as he was to kiss her? Was it wishful thinking on his part? That was definitely her hand on his ass, her fingers digging into his jeans. Well, if she’d taken the gloves off, so to speak, he would too. He cupped her ass and scooped her closer, pressed her into his body. His hard-on might scare her off. But remembering their dinner conversation and what he’d come to know about her, probably not. She had started this. Was it a good idea for him to finish it? Was he an itch? Shutting down his rambling brain, he let himself enjoy.
Grace chose not to second-guess herself. They hadn’t known each other long enough for this to be anything other than what it was. Her wanting one very desirable man to kiss her. How could she not? But contrary to what she’d told him, she didn’t scratch an itch whenever she wanted to. She wasn’t the type. She had nothing against those who did, and as the hand molded to her butt slipped under her dress, those fingers under the thong at her hip, she seriously wondered why she wasn’t the type. In fact, when his mouth left hers and worked its magic, paying serious attention to the hollow of her collarbone, she couldn’t remember why she wasn’t the type. That tongue and those lips made rational thought impossible. She tried to suppress the need to want more and failed. He was simply too… everything.
She shifted her knee to position her thigh between his. It brought her hip closer to the bulge in his pants and forced his hand around and back onto her butt, her pretty much naked butt, given the lack of fabric to her panties. He groaned, drawing her earlobe into his mouth as he shifted his body, sadly putting space between them. Before she could mourn the loss of contact, he’d hooked her knee with his hand and slung it over his hip. Not only did it bring his crotch even closer to her core, but her dress bunched around her waist, exposing her. And if the air-conditioned room felt cold against her skin, it didn’t last long.
His hand squeezed and massaged her cheek at the same time his hips rocked into hers. Now it was her turn to moan as each thrust teased and promised more. His fingers slid further down and then between her legs from behind. She wanted to sigh in relief she didn’t know she needed, but she couldn’t. Her own tongue was too busy exploring his neck to do much of anything else. With her legs spread wide, he had full access and he took it. With each shiver he sent across her body, she tried to force long gulps of air into her lungs. The last thing her brain needed was less oxygen to think. Not because she was going to stop him but because she was going to give as good as she got.
She slipped one hand between them to undo the silver buckle on his belt, then popped open the snap to his black pants, struggling to unzip his fly. For a second, a very brief second, she hesitated. What the hell was she getting herself into? As her fingers brushed a very impressive hard on, she smiled at the double entendre. She couldn’t help it. The man was seriously packing and she should most definitely question her behavior. She was anything if not a rational, logical person. But right now, she didn’t care. It was almost… liberating. She gave the zipper one final tug and forgot why she shouldn’t be doing this.
“Grace?” he said, his breath labored.
She stuck her hand down his underpants, cupping him. He gasped. “Yeah?”
“I forgot.”
She pulled her head back and laughed. He nipped her neck. She returned the favor, wrapped her fingers around him, and lightly sq
ueezed.
He kissed her then, deep and hard. Her entire being shook from the assault on her senses. She’d never felt more alive from one kiss, one stupid kiss.
He stopped kissing her. Drew back, took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, his attention going from her eyes, to her mouth, and back to her eyes. “Are we going to stop this?”
His question took her by surprise. “Is that what you want?” she asked, withdrawing her hand from his pants.
He gave her another one of those toe-curling, roof-punching kisses. She saw stars—actual stars.
When he was done he said, “It couldn’t be further from what I want. I just want to make sure you’re okay with what’s happening.”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness and stroked his cheek with her knuckles. “I’m a black belt in not one but three martial art disciplines. My third sensei was six-four and three hundred pounds and I still managed to lay him flat. Can you guess where you’d be if I didn’t want this?”
“Good to know.” He scooped her up and sat them on the bed with Grace still straddling him.
She was thrown at first until he went back to kissing her. And didn’t he rock her world. This man understood how a woman wanted to be kissed. With a hand at the small of her back pressing her against him, his other hand wound around her hair, baring her neck. His open mouth slid from her ear to her collarbone, sucking and, on occasion, biting. Then he licked where his teeth had nipped. If he weren’t holding her up, she’d dissolve into a puddle in his lap. As it was, she had to work at getting her arms to wrap around his neck. Her skin heated with need, but her barely controlled restraint at wanting to rip off the rest of his clothes and mount him made her body hum. Her knees, tightly clamped around his hips, quivered. She tried to relax, a little embarrassed by her lack of control, but she couldn’t get her legs to stop vibrating…literally. Regrettably, oh so regrettably, she forced herself to push him away.
“Fuck, you taste good.” He tried to draw her back into him.
And he was mighty fine at tasting. She could only imagine how good he was at—she mentally slapped herself. “Um, your butt is vibrating. Are you sitting on your phone?” It had taken several seconds to realize the pulsating rhythms weren’t coming from her.