Lone Star Country Club: The Debutantes

by Beverly Barton

  “No, honey, I won’t leave.”

  Smiling sleepily, she burrowed into the mattress, seeking and finding a comfortable position. “Kiss me good-night.”

  Brent leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She sighed contentedly. How the hell had he gotten himself into this situation? Why hadn’t he been able to leave her to her fate instead of rushing to her rescue at the Rusty Bucket? Because despite your determination not to fall for this little filly, you’ve got the hots for her. And for some damn reason, you’ve taken on the role as her protector, which puts your position as her wannabe lover at odds with your guardian role.

  Glancing around the room, Brent spotted a chaise longue upholstered in some sort of pink satiny material. If he was going to stay the night to keep watch over the sleeping princess, he could choose between the floor and the chaise. Despite the fact that his feet hung off the end, he chose the chaise.

  Jenna woke with a start. Where was she? Why was her head aching? Sitting straight up in bed, she glanced around the moonlit room. Her room at home. The room that hadn’t been altered since she was ten. But what was she doing here? Taking a look at the clock on her nightstand, she noted that it was four-thirty. How long had she been asleep? She had no idea. She scooted to the edge of the bed, slipped off the side and stood on unsteady legs. Everything around her was spinning like crazy. She closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly, then opened her eyes to find that the dizziness had subsided. Scanning the semidark room, she saw a large hulk resting on her chaise longue.

  Brent Jameson!

  She groaned softly, as her slightly fuzzy brain recalled last night’s events. She and Katie had gone to the Rusty Bucket, where she had flirted and danced and drank, in preparation for Brent’s arrival. Undoubtedly by the time Brent had showed up, she’d already had too much to drink. She vaguely remembered a fight breaking out and Brent lifting her up and over his shoulder. Her hero. Hadn’t she wanted him to be jealous, to whisk her away from her other admirers? Yes, of course, but in her grand scheme, she’d been sober. What did they put in those beers at the Rusty Bucket anyway?

  Jenna supposed she’d made a total fool of herself last night. Understatement of the century. But at least her plan had partially worked, hadn’t it? Brent was here in her room. He’d spent the night. Of course in her original plan, they had shared a bed.

  After tiptoing to the bathroom, Jenna closed the door behind her, then stripped out of her bra and panties. She felt grubby and sticky and… Oh, God, she’d puked in front of Brent. He’d seen her with her head hung over the commode. How totally embarrassing!

  She turned on the shower. The warm spray felt wonderful. Taking her time, she lathered and rinsed her hair and her body, then stepped out onto the tile floor and reached for a couple of towels hanging on a wall rack. After wrapping the smaller one around her damp hair, forming a turban, she took the larger one and dried herself, then draped it around her, covering her body from breasts to hips. Hurriedly, she brushed her teeth and rinsed with mouthwash.

  Although she had a headache, she was at least clean, alert and thinking straight. So, why waste a golden opportunity? Brent was here, in her bedroom. No time like the present to salvage the moment, so to speak. He must care about her, at least a little, or he wouldn’t have rescued her, brought her home, taken care of her and stayed the night.

  You can do this, she told herself. How hard could it be to seduce a man in your own bedroom? Bolstering her courage, she sauntered over to the chaise longue, eased down and on top of Brent and kissed him on the cheek. He grunted, coming awake slowly. She kissed him again, this time on the mouth.

  “What the he—” He sat up so quickly that he almost toppled her off and onto the floor. The turban around her head loosened, then fell off, cascading her long, damp hair down her back. She grabbed his shoulders and held on, straddling his waist as she landed in his lap. “Jenna?”

  Snuggling herself up against him, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. And much to her surprise and delight, he kissed her back. Reveling in the sensations bursting inside her, she cooperated fully when he took charge, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth and cupping her hips with his big hands. Giving herself over completely to him, she readjusted her body so that the apex between her thighs fit perfectly over his erection.

  Brent groaned, deep in his throat, then plunged his hands up and under the loose towel that barely covered her. As he caressed her naked buttocks, she whimpered. Spiraling out of control quickly, she rubbed herself against him, like a purring cat slinking around her master’s leg. Somehow she’d known it would be like this with Brent, all hot passion and hungry desire. She’d dreamed of how it would be, how she’d feel, the way he would react. Even though the idea of a wild fling, a rebellious adventure to test her ability to break free of her mother’s overbearing control had instigated her pursuit of Brent Jameson, none of that mattered now. He was no longer only a means to an end. As crazy it might sound to anyone else, Jenna realized that she was falling in love with this very unsuitable cowboy. And never having been in love before, her emotions were on a roller-coaster ride of excitement and uncertainty.

  Brent kissed and licked a path down her throat and over the swell of her breasts bulging from beneath the terry cloth towel. Her nipples tingled. He nuzzled the towel lower and lower, until it dropped to her waist. The moment his lips touched one tight, aching nipple, she cried out with the pleasure-pain that radiated from her breasts throughout her body.

  “Make love to me,” Jenna whispered, her voice hoarse with longing.

  He froze. He lifted her up and off him, then set her on the chaise longue as he stood. She gazed up at him, puzzled by his actions. When she reached out for him, he held up his hands in a stop gesture.

  “Brent?”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want you, honey. I do. More than you know.”

  “Then wh—”

  “We’re playing with fire. And if you play with fire, it’s only a matter of time until you get burned.”

  “I don’t care.” She held open her arms to him, unashamed that she was practically naked. “Let’s jump in the fire and burn together.”

  “I can’t do this, Jenna. I’m not that big a heel. I have a feeling that you want something from me that I can’t give you. For me, it would be just sex. Is that what you want? All you want?”

  His words sobered her in a way all the cold showers and cups of hot coffee couldn’t have. If he had asked her this question on the first night they met, she could have given him an unequivocal positive response. But not now. Sex wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more. She wanted love.

  “I guess there have been a lot of women in your life.” Suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, Jenna pulled the towel up and around her breasts.

  “Some,” he admitted.

  “And you’ve never been in love?”

  He shook his head.

  “And you don’t feel anything for me?”

  “I feel attraction and lust. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman and it’s not easy for me to walk away from you.” His lips lifted in a cockeyed grin. “I hope you appreciate the amount of self-control it’s taking for me to give up something I’d very much like to have.”

  “You don’t have to say—”

  “I meant it, honey. Every word.”

  Heat crept up her neck and flushed her cheeks. “Before you leave, I need to thank you for coming to my rescue last night at the Rusty Bucket. I only remember part of what happened. I’m not used to drinking and…well, thanks, Brent.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Jenna.” With a sweep of his hand, he bowed graciously, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Keep on rebelling, honey. Just find a safer way to do it. And if you decide to go to another roadhouse seeking excitement, give me a call. I’ll take you and keep an eye on you.” When she gasped with delight and smiled at him, he amended his statement. “Just as friends. Nothing more. I’ll act as your bodygua
rd.”

  Her smile vanished; she nodded. “Just as friends.”

  Brent squeezed her chin playfully, as one might touch a child. “Promise me that you won’t go off and do anything crazy without me.”

  “I…okay, I promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  With that said, he turned and left her bedroom. For several minutes she didn’t move. Not until she heard the roar of his old truck. Then she stood, walked across the room and flopped down on her bed. The tears came easily. Brokenhearted tears. She had come so close to becoming a woman—Brent’s woman. Why hadn’t she told him that if they’d made love, it would have been nothing more than sex for her, too? If only she had lied to him, he’d still be here, in bed with her, making love to her.

  Just as friends. His words played over and over in her head. Nothing more. I’ll act as your bodyguard.

  Jenna pummeled her fists against the tangled covers, venting her anger and frustration. All her daring plans to walk on the wild side had gone haywire. She hadn’t meant to fall in love with anybody, least of all some cowboy hunk with an honorable streak a mile wide. What was she going to do now? She needed a new plan of action. A winning strategy to accomplish a far more important goal than breaking away from her mother’s iron-fisted control. Besides, if she got what she wanted, then she could kill two birds with one stone: be free of her mother’s domineering hold and capture Brent Jameson’s heart now and forever.

  Chapter 6

  Nelda Wilson stormed into Jenna’s apartment. Katie and Dana made themselves scarce in a big hurry. Jenna wished she could scurry away to safety along with them. But she couldn’t. She had to face her mother’s wrath. She had to stand up for herself. After all, did she really want to spend the rest of her life letting her mother make all her decisions? No! Most definitely not! If things worked out between Brent and her, she’d have no choice but to confront her mother, to stand up to her and tell her that she intended to spend the rest of her life with a ranch hand who drove a beat-up old truck and probably didn’t have more than a few hundred dollars to his name.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Nelda tossed her alligator-skin bag down on the coffee table. “Have you lost your mind? You cannot continue carrying on the way you have lately. Did you think that people wouldn’t talk, that no one would find out that you’ve been gallivanting around with that worthless cowboy?”

  “That cowboy has a name. It’s Brent Jameson. And he is not worthless.”

  Nelda huffed. “Have you slept with him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Of course it’s my business. You’re a child and I’m your mother.”

  “I am not a child. I’m a woman. I’m twenty-one.”

  “You’re making a fool of yourself and of me. I suppose you know that, don’t you?”

  “That wasn’t my intention.” Jenna’s abdominal muscles twisted painfully into tight knots. Dealing with her mother had all but given her ulcers as a teenager. She’d found it easier to acquiesce to Nelda’s wishes than to endure the wounds from battle after battle. But she could not—would not—back down, not this time. She had found something worth fighting for—Brent.

  “The debutante ball is in two weeks and you still don’t have a date. Two months ago I gave you a list of young men from which to choose. I expect you to make a decision and call one of them—today!”

  “The debutante ball! The debutante ball! Is that the only thing you can think about? I didn’t want to participate in that society nonsense in the first place, but I agreed just to please you. Because believe it or not, Mother, I do care about pleasing you. I just wish you cared half as much about what matters to me.”

  “How can you think that I don’t care about what matters to you? You’re my only child. I love you. I want only the best for you.”

  “You want what you think is best.” Nausea churned in Jenna’s stomach. She felt a strong urge to give in to her mother’s demands, to just call Tommy Johnson or Charles Wayne or anyone on “the list.” What did it matter who her escort was for the ball?

  “What’s best for you—and you know it—is to stop all this foolishness, choose a date for the ball and put your life back on track. You’ll be graduating from Tensley the week after the ball and you can have a glorious summer at the country club, with young men and women who are your social equals.”

  “I’m inviting Brent to be my escort for the ball and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”

  Nelda gasped. Two other rather conspicuous gasps came from the kitchen, and Jenna realized that her friends were eavesdropping on her battle royale with her mother. Dana and Katie were rooting for her, hoping she would not surrender. After all, if Jenna could go against her mother’s wishes and not back down, then there was hope that Dana and Katie could do the same with their parents.

  “I forbid it.” Nelda shook her index finger in Jenna’s face.

  “Are you going to forbid me to marry him, too?” Where had that grand announcement come from? Jenna wondered. Oh, well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Marry him!” Nelda screeched the words. “Has that cowboy asked you to marry him?”

  “We’ve discussed how we feel about each other. And—and about our future.” Okay, so she was telling a little white lie. Surely lighting wouldn’t strike her dead for such a tiny falsehood.

  “Where did I go wrong?” Nelda wrung her hands, heading straight into a melodramatic performance. “I’ve been a good mother. Your father and I gave you everything money could buy. You were always such a sweet, obedient little girl. I never dreamed the day would come when you would treat me this way. When you’d walk all over my feelings so heartlessly.”

  She’d heard it all before. Numerous times. Whenever she dared to imply that she might go against her mother’s wishes, she got the drama queen guilt trip from Nelda. And it had worked beautifully in the past. But not now. Everything within Jenna screamed to be free.

  “I’m going to ask Brent to be my escort to the ball,” Jenna repeated. “And I intend to continue dating him.” Just as friends. Nothing more. His words echoed inside her head. Yeah, well, she’d see about that. It might take some time, but eventually she’d prove to him that his feelings for her were as strong as hers were for him.

  Nelda grabbed her purse from the coffee table, marched to the door, then glanced over her shoulder. “Mark my word, you will regret this. And when that man breaks your heart, you’ll come to your senses.”

  Hurricane Nelda blew out the door with more damaging winds than when she’d arrived. The moment the door slammed shut, Jenna dropped into the nearest chair and drew in a deep calming breath, then released it slowly. Dana and Katie came rushing out of the kitchen, quickly hovering over Jenna.

  “I can’t believe you did it,” Dana said.

  “I can.” Katie grinned. “She’s in love. A woman would do anything for the man she loves.”

  “How does Brent feel about you?” Dana asked. “Has he told you that he loves you?”

  “Not yet,” Jenna admitted. “But he will. Once I see him again.”

  “And when will that be?” Dana eyed Jenna skeptically. “He hasn’t called you for a date or anything, has he?”

  “No, but he told me that the next time I wanted to go out honky-tonking, to call him. He doesn’t want me getting into trouble. So when I see him tomorrow at the Carson Ranch, I’m not only going to ask him to take me out on some fun dates, but I’m going to ask him to be my escort for the debutante ball.”

  “What if he says no?” Katie asked.

  “He won’t. I’m going to make sure of that.”

  Katie and Dana looked at each other, wide-eyed and mouths agape. Jenna laughed, feeling confident since she’d faced her mother without folding up like a paper fan. All she had to do now was bring Brent around to her way of thinking.

  Brent had spent the morning and half the afternoon out mending fences, along with Tubby Wells and Clay Hargett. The other two ha
nds had taken the truck and headed back to the ranch, leaving Brent to check the remaining fencing in the south pasture so they’d know where to start tomorrow. The huge orange sun hung low in the western horizon, its heat sweltering for springtime. Putting Mr. Lucky into a slow gallop, Brent headed toward the natural pond, fed by an underground spring, not far away. When he’d passed the watering hole this morning, he’d thought about coming back by for a dip later on. And right now he could almost feel the chilly water cooling his body.

  Partially secluded within a semicircle of trees and bushes, the pond could be seen from only one angle. Brent led Mr. Lucky over to the pond to drink his fill, then hitched him to a nearby tree. Alone and unlikely to be bothered by another living soul, Brent tossed his Stetson hat on the grass, then hurriedly stripped off his clothes. Buck naked and feeling cooler already, he dived into the pond, swam across its surface, then found a shallow spot and sat. With the water lapping around his shoulders, he tossed back his head and laughed.

  A part of him was going to miss the ranch life. And if he were totally honest with himself, he’d have to admit that a part of him was going to miss Jenna Wilson. She’d started out as thorn in his side, and mostly that’s what she still was. But that darn irritating female kind of grew on a guy. As much as he’d tried not to think about her, his mind had other ideas. He found himself thinking about her way too much. When he’d told Flynt Carson that he had volunteered to be Jenna’s bodyguard, if she decided to continue her rebellion, Flynt had thanked Brent for taking on the responsibility. But Flynt had sensed that something more was going on, more than Brent simply agreeing to look out for Fiona and Cara’s young friend.

  “Why did you change your mind?” Flynt had asked.

  “I don’t want to see the kid get hurt.”

  “And that’s all there is to it? That’s the only reason you’re playing knight in shining armor?”

  “Okay, so she gets to me…a little. I’d hate to see her sow her wild oats with somebody who’d take advantage of her.”