Tempted by a Cowboy

by Vonna Harper, Melissa MacNeal

  He surrounded her lush nether lips with his mouth. He’d found this woman’s favorite way, and her response was truly an inspiration. She was wriggling and writhing, wrapping her quivering thighs around his head, and then spreading them to press herself harder against his mouth. It wouldn’t be long until—

  Her scream rose to a wild crescendo. His pulse pounded in his ears—and everywhere else—but he didn’t let up. He’d give her something to remember him by, because she obviously wasn’t into one-night stands or fucks on the fly. She was a rock-solid, stand-by-your-man kind of woman. Not her fault she didn’t have a man right now.

  As her spasms racked her entire body, she was a joy to watch. So free. So unpretentious. So responsive. How long had it been since he’d had such a lover? Michael shoved the thought aside and focused again on this fabulous woman who didn’t realize how hot she was.

  Her hands tightened around his face and she forced him to meet her gaze. “My name’s Diana. And you damn well better tell me yours, so I know whose name to scream when this all comes back to haunt me. After you’re gone.”

  He suddenly didn’t want to think about the gone part, but he’d made that rule himself, hadn’t he? “Diana,” he whispered raggedly. “Goddess of the moon—and certainly goddess of this room,” he quipped. He slyly slid two fingers back inside her to watch her jump.

  “Forget the diversionary tactics.” She brought his face within inches of hers, holding his gaze with eyes the color of a sun-filled forest. “Tell me your name. I promise not to call you at all hours or stalk you on the Internet.”

  Damn. It would be nice to hear her voice on the phone once he was down the road, wouldn’t it? “Michael,” he replied. “Michael White Horse at your service, sweetheart.”

  “Careful there. My heart’s been hiding in a dark cave so long, any sign of affection—any endearments—might make me take you more seriously than you intended.” She kissed the tip of his nose and then rubbed it, Eskimo-style, with her own.

  Michael went all silly inside. He felt like one of the seven dwarfs when Snow White kissed him.

  “And meanwhile, since you’re not going to hang around, I’ll tell you straight out: you give the best damn tongue job I’ve ever had.” Her smile went lopsided. “If I don’t live to see tomorrow, I’ll die a happy woman.”

  “Don’t talk like that! If you’re going to do something stupid like—”

  She silenced him with a kiss. A kiss so sweet…so lingering…yet so innocent, it took his heart a few beats to recover its rhythm. Why was he feeling shaky? Downright scared, when she talked about dying?

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and kind, smiling into his. “I’ve lived with death—the before and after of it—for so long, I no longer fear it. It’s like a friend I can count on to do the right thing.”

  He swallowed. Kept looking into eyes that didn’t flinch even when they misted over. He’d never met another woman like Diana. And although the rain was letting up, he wasn’t nearly ready to leave. His mind was spinning in a dozen different directions, and when he could speak again he wasn’t expecting what came out.

  “Do you think we could talk about that? About doing the right thing?”

  6

  Diana’s eyebrows rose. Her Native American stud puppy was kneeling before her, rock hard, with lips still shiny from giving her that stellar tongue job. What did a guy like this mean by doing the right thing? It was his bravado, his don’t-ask-don’t-tell declaration that gave her the freedom to be so bold and brazen. If he offered to make an “honest woman” of her—or, heaven forbid, if he apologized for taking advantage of her loneliness—she’d be sorely disappointed.

  She liked the woman she’d become with this younger man. She wanted to be this feisty, brazen, she-devil Diana for a while longer…for as long as she could string him along. Rules were made to be broken, right?

  Still gazing at his cinnamon face between her pale legs, Diana smiled. “Doing the right thing,” she mused mysteriously. “What would you like to know, Michael? Is this about my story or yours?”

  “Mine. I…I just left a job as the chief accountant at my great-uncle’s casino, where some of the financial practices are clearly against the law,” he began in a quiet rush. “I haven’t reported anything yet—don’t want to bring the Feds down on my family, you know? But they’re calling me a traitor, saying I’ve not only pissed on them but on the entire tribe. The Indian Nation and all it stands for.”

  “I see,” she murmured. “It’s not like you’re the first person to sniff at cooked books and smell something rotten. I could tell you a few stories about that myself, but it’s still your turn.” Diana patted the bed beside her.

  Michael slid onto the mattress, and she cradled him against her body. For several moments they lay that way, breathing together. It felt so damn good, having a man hold her. She sighed as she trailed soft kisses over his smooth young face.

  “It’s just that, well…” Michael’s hesitation bespoke a heavy burden. “The place started out as a bingo hall, and then the tribal elders got the big-ass idea to build a casino. None of these guys have any business expertise. Some honchos from Vegas helped them set up, but once the big money rolled in, my uncle and his cronies resented outsiders telling them how to run things. So men who’d been marginally efficient at managing a bingo hall that netted ten thousand a week are now in charge of a monster that generates about five hundred thousand a day.”

  “Holy cow.” Diana bit back a remark about what she could do with just one day’s earnings. She wove her fingers into Michael’s glorious long hair. “So when you saw discrepancies in the P & L statements, or asked where the money was going, they gave you trouble?”

  “My uncle accused me of skimming huge amounts of cash. He said I’d picked up too many, uh—Caucasian—habits to be trustworthy, just because I asked to see records of what the slots brought in.” He laughed ruefully and nestled closer to her. “I saw those records, all right. They hadn’t been filled out for weeks.”

  Diana considered this. “So the government doesn’t audit them, or—”

  “Nope. Not on the reservation.”

  “No one from the tribe ever questions managerial practices?” she continued. “How do they know they couldn’t be even more profitable if the casino operators knew what they were doing?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Only the tribal chiefs can remove anyone, and since they’re happier than pigs in shit, wallowing in all that money, nobody asks any questions. Except me, that is.”

  She tightened her arms around him, loving the feel of his sleek body…savoring this conversation that had nothing to do with her own iffy situation. It touched her that Michael would entrust such details to her, a white woman…but then, people confessed all sorts of things to total strangers they’d never see again. “So you have a degree in finance?”

  “I’m a CPA, yeah.”

  “Surely you could find work just about anywhere then.”

  He grimaced like a kid who’d bit into a lemon. Then his onyx eyes lit up with a teasing glimmer. “I did the rebellious, irresponsible thing,” he whispered. “I used to ride saddle broncs in college. Pretty good at it, too. So I’ve left the nine-to-five behind to pursue my dream of getting to the PRCA finals in Las Vegas.”

  Diana’s jaw dropped. “You’re a pro rodeo cowboy and a certified public accountant? Hot damn!” She squeezed him, giggling. “It’s such a cool thing that you’re doing what you really love! You go, guy!”

  He chuckled and hugged her hard. “It was going so well, too. Until my truck broke down on my first day out.”

  Diana rolled onto her side to lean into him from a superior position. She indulged herself in another long, languid kiss, losing herself in the warmth of his sensitive mouth.

  He lifted her head, grinning. “Not so fast, sugar. You have to share your story now—or you’re not getting that cock inside you ever again.”

  “Are you threate
ning me?” she teased.

  “Yup. All’s fair in love and war.”

  “And which is this?”

  Michael’s smile mellowed. “Well it sure as hell isn’t war—but don’t get any girly ideas about the love part, either. If I was in that cafe because my truck broke down, why’d you show up? You looked like you’d lost your last friend. Didn’t trust a soul in there even though you probably knew most of them.”

  She smiled secretively. “Just my luck that the only open seat was by a tall, dark stranger, eh?”

  “Spill it. A woman who wears shades on a rainy day is concealing something.” He held her gaze with his obsidian eyes until she saw herself mirrored in them. And she liked what she saw.

  “Okay, so I’d just come from the bank,” she admitted, feeling tired and cranky again. “I got behind on the ranch payments when my husband Garrison underwent treatment for liver disease and received a transplant. That, plus the required antirejection drugs, dug us one hell of a hole, financially.”

  Michael sobered. “I’m hearing all this in past tense.”

  “Yeah, he…” Diana paused, telling herself she would not cry while she was enjoying this young hunk’s embrace. “Even with all the drugs, Garrison only lasted a few months. He’d been ill for more than a year before the transplant—”

  “I’m so sorry, angel.” He enfolded her against his sturdy chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. “You don’t have to say another word. That’s a long hard ride you’ve been on, and it makes my predicament look pretty damn petty.”

  “But your family’s so pissed at you, you had to leave them,” she said. “That’s not fair, Michael! Not when you were doing your honest best. I can’t say that for the bankers who’re now foreclosing on Seven Creeks. All they see is dollar signs from the ritzy ranch-style resort they want to develop after they demolish my house…the house Garrison built right after we got married.”

  “That is just wrong!” he blurted. “Surely a repayment plan—debt consolidation—could get them off your back while you recover from your losses.”

  Diana again gazed into his eyes. They burned with obsidian fire and indignation, and his tight face betrayed intense feeling for her. The way he’d abandoned his own rules heartened her. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Your understanding means more than you know.”

  “You understood me first, sweetheart.”

  Did she? Michael White Horse impressed her as one of those strong silent types who kept his soul to himself…but that didn’t stop her from enjoying his body, did it? When she wiggled the tip of her tongue in his ear, he shuddered. Laughed low in his throat, as though he had a delightfully dangerous idea.

  “I’ve got something for you besides understanding…that is, if you’d like to change the subject.” When he pressed his long body into hers, his rigid shaft spoke for itself.

  And wasn’t it nice, how he knew when to stop talking about death and hardship and suffering? After all, it wasn’t every day she ended up naked beside a hot, good-looking stranger who didn’t mind that she hadn’t styled her hair or shaved her legs. “I can talk about any subject you like,” she replied lightly.

  “Like I’m gonna let you talk.” Michael deftly flipped their positions so he lay half on top of her with a leg cocked over both of hers. His eyes flashed a message she couldn’t mistake. His raven hair was almost dry now, and it fell along both sides of her face like a curtain, closing her away from the rest of the tawdry room…away from her reality. As he studied her, his long lashes brushed his cheeks.

  “You are soooo gorgeous,” she breathed.

  He nibbled her lip…gently tugged it between his teeth and let go. “Thank you. But that just gets me into trouble faster, you know. Trouble like you, sugar.”

  His finger meandered past her midsection to pause in her curls…to make her wait and want. Diana wiggled, unable to control the crazy little bolts of heat lightning that flashed inside her. “You’re too good at this, cowboy.”

  “Nope, can’t claim that one. You set me off like a shot the minute you sat down on the stool beside me.”

  “Really?” She accepted another nibble, reveling in his gentle sense of play. He was all hard angles and darkness and strength, yet he took his sweet time teasing her. “So what got your attention? I—I’m not fishing for a compliment. I’m just really curious about what attracted a stallion like you to a worn-down workhorse like me, who—”

  “Stop.” Michael kissed her with more pressure while he slid all the way on top of her. “No put-downs. If I say you’re hot, you’re hot. And if I say you’re gonna come so hard you see colored lights and scream my name, you will.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked. “Nice dodge.”

  “I’m good at that, too.” He kissed her again, slowly, deeply…easing his tongue between her lips in an invitation to dance. The angle of his face gave him all the advantage over her, as did the position of his body, but being held hostage played into some of her dicier fantasies: if she was overpowered by this perfect stranger, forced to do his bidding, she couldn’t be held responsible for whatever happened, could she?

  “It was your attitude,” he whispered. “Your refusal to let those small-town, small-time gossips call your shots. They were all gawking at you, and you didn’t give them the time of day. Just sucked down your Diet Coke like they weren’t even there.”

  “And yearned for your peach pie.”

  “I ordered it so I’d have more time to check you out,” he confessed with a devilish grin. “But that’s not all you were looking at. Was it?”

  Diana’s cheeks tingled beneath his steady gaze. He was gyrating now, subtly shifting his hips so his cock pressed into that bone above her clit. “Ohhhhhhh, you’re pushing my buttons again,” she moaned.

  “Good. Can’t think of a single thing I’d rather be doing now. Can you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh?” Michael angled himself up on his forearms to give his hips more leverage. “Don’t be shy, Di. I’m good, but I’m not a mind reader.”

  “Ram that cock inside me and fuck me with it,” she challenged in a hoarse whisper. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

  “Jesus, you little—” He kissed her with a hard hunger that pressed her head deeper into the mattress, accentuating just how much she was at his mercy.

  His body outpowered hers in every way, and as he rubbed his chest against her breasts she gloried in the hard male strength of him. Slyly she wiggled beneath him, kissing him wildly yet carrying out her own secret agenda…going for down-and-dirty wish fulfillment. At just the right moment, she arched herself to catch his hard tip at her entry. Then she grabbed his ass and opened herself wider.

  His head jerked up. In the shadow created by his raven hair, Michael’s eyes burned with a dark fire. “You’re asking for trouble, lady. Let me grab a—”

  “Why?” She gripped his hips. “I’ve had one man for the past twenty years, Michael. Are you clean? Healthy?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts. No woulda, coulda, shoulda,” she rasped. “Just all-out, down-and-dirty sex. Isn’t that what you said in the car?”

  Emotions played over his face in an expression she’d never forget. “Yeah, but if there’s a kid—”

  “Can’t happen.”

  “You’ll either come looking for me or—”

  Diana squeezed her knees tightly around him, panting with the effort it took not to lunge upward and claim him. “Are you listening to me?” she demanded hoarsely. “You can give me what most women in this world only dream about, cowboy. No strings—no kids. You in?”

  He wheezed. His deep, dark eyes went absolutely still as they sucked hers into a gaze that seemed to span eternity.

  Diana thrust upward to take his magnificent cock inside her and he grimaced with the pleasure of entering her tight, heated sheath. He bored into her once, twice—

  And then he shoved away from her so violently he nearly fell over himself at the end of the
bed. Michael turned away. Went to the window to stare out at the rain.

  As he stood in profile, Diana saw his shoulders quiver. He was really, really upset about something.

  And what the hell are you thinking? He tried to tell you not to—but you and your big, fat fantasies—

  “Sorry,” he rasped.

  The middle of the bed suddenly felt very lonely. Diana draped her arm over her eyes. “I’m sorry, too. You did the safe, intelligent thing—”

  “Last time a girl told me kids couldn’t happen, I found out the hard way she hadn’t been taking her pills. She wouldn’t marry me,” he added bitterly. “Which was just as well, considering we lived together about a year and then she said it wasn’t working.”

  “She…had your baby?” Diana peered beneath her arm. He stood slumped against the wall, letting his hair fall like a dark veil around his face.

  “Twins. Carey and Cait. Guess they must be about six by”—he raked his hair back from his face—“oh, what would you care.”

  “Try me, Michael. I always wanted kids and couldn’t seem to have any,” she whispered. “Those two little girls must be gorgeous. I can see how it rips your heart out that they aren’t with you.”

  He turned to study her, but remained at the window. “When I tried to get shared custody, their mother pulled a fast one. We agreed about visitation and child support arrangements in court…but by the time I came home from work, she’d disappeared. Slipped under the radar so fast, it took a couple years for my investigator to find her in San Juan.”

  Diana let out a low whistle. “Do you get to call the girls, or visit—”

  “Hell, no! The numbers Carina gave him were for a gas station and a Laundromat,” Michael blurted. “She got a trumped-up restraining order when she thought I’d come looking for the girls. So I’ve got no chance to tell them their father wanted them. That he loves them and thinks of them every single day.”

  “Oh, Michael. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well…me, too. So much for keeping the personal stuff out of it.” He glanced at the clock. Walked to the foot of the bed and fumbled the cell phone out of his jeans. “Excuse me a minute. Gotta call about my truck.”