“That’s a good idea,” Gram said, walking to rise and kiss his cheek. “We’re going to do the same thing. Our flight leaves this afternoon.”
“Flight?” he asked around a mouthful of cake.
Gram nodded, blue eyes bright. “Yes. We’re going on a deepwater diving trip for our honeymoon.”
“Since when do you dive?” Could Mason be trying to kill off his grandmother to get her money and property?
“We took lessons,” Mason piped in. “We’re both certified deepwater divers.”
“I thought you were into parasailing these days,” Tyler said to Gram. Parasailing she could do right there in Paradise Cove.
“Nah—got bored with that.” Gram batted her eyelashes at Mason, and Tyler’s recently ingested cake threatened to reappear. “Let’s go back to bed, Pookey.”
Pookey?
By the time Tyler put his dishes in the dishwasher, he heard a suspicious sound and walked to the hall.
“Please, Lord, don’t let that be what I think it is,” he muttered.
He stood there and listened. Damn. Looked like he was sleeping out in the stable with Jim.
His grandmother was having sex.
2
T hings were definitely heating up. Pushing wakefulness aside, Tyler reached for his elusive lover. She licked his face. All over. Then whinnied. Whinnied?
He jerked awake and found himself eye to eye with Jim. He shoved away the horse and stood, adjusting his jeans.
“Shut up,” he said, pointing at Jim, and then headed for the house. Celibacy was more difficult than he’d imagined.
Banging on the bathroom door greeted Tyler, half an hour later, when he turned off the shower.
“Sonny! Get out here and kiss me good-bye. And I have something I need to tell you before I leave.”
Maybe she and good old Mason weren’t really married. That would be good. One less thing to worry about.
“Be right out.” After a cursory drying, he stepped into boxers and a clean pair of jeans. Still buttoning the fly, he opened the door. “What is it?”
“Oh, my Lord! What happened? You look like you’ve had the snot kicked out of you!” Gram tugged on his arm and turned him to look at his back. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder, able to see the tops of the welts the redheaded she-cat had made on his back, on top of the bruises he already sported from his last rodeo performance. “That’s one of the reasons I’m retiring.” He bent to scoop a T-shirt from his duffel bag and slipped it on. “What did you want to tell me?”
“Well, there’s no other way but to come right out with it.” She paused. “I’m a businesswoman, as of last month.”
“Care to explain?” He sat down on the hall bench, pulling his grandmother down with him. He sensed there was more and wished she would just spit it out.
“I went into a partnership with Roger Ferris. You remember him, don’t you, Betsy Ferris’s boy?” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, he’s become quite the real-estate tycoon around Paradise Beach. In exchange for selling him some of my beachfront property, he made me his partner! Isn’t that wonderful?” She smiled up at him, not looking like it was all that wonderful.
“Gram, what are you not telling me? I know you have a plane to catch, and I have some serious beach time scheduled, so I—”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, damnit!” Gram’s hand flew to her mouth as though she was shocked at what it had just said. “I mean, I know you’ve always loved the peace and quiet of Paradise Cove, and, well, it may not be, ah, as quiet or peaceful as you remember.
“Roger and I are building a luxury beach community on the cove. Beginning almost next door and running along most of the beach. My house will ultimately be used as the clubhouse.” She peeked through her eyelashes and shrugged. “Unless any of my heirs want it. And, well, since my house is sort of part of everything now, I have to abide by the deed restrictions of the community.” Her shoulders slumped. “What I’m trying to tell you is livestock is forbidden.”
“Meaning?” Although he had a sneaking suspicion of where she was headed.
“No horses.”
“Too late. Jim’s already in your stable.”
She nodded. “I assumed as much. What I’m trying to tell you is you’re going to have to keep him hidden during your visit.”
“Hannah!” Mason’s voice boomed down the hall. “We need to hit the road if we want to get lunch before we check in.”
Gram stood and gripped Tyler in a fierce hug. “I hope you find the answers you need while you’re here,” she whispered, her peppermint-scented breath calming him as much as it had as a child.
His grandmother had underestimated the potential volume of the construction noise, Tyler decided a few minutes later when he stepped onto the beach. With the hammering, sawing, and tractor and backhoes in operation, he could scarcely hear himself think. And what was that awful squawking?
He walked down to the edge of the water and looked at the flurry of activities. In front of it all, at the edge of the beach, a scrawny, black-garbed character paced, yelling into a bullhorn. He squinted. What in the hell was she wearing?
Damn. A smile crept across his face, despite the irritation of all the noise. She was dressed as the grim reaper.
Meg Holder gripped the bullhorn in her sweating hand and did her best to disguise her voice. “Stop the construction! Now! Paradise Beach is for everyone to enjoy, not just the privileged few! Stop the construction or face the consequences of your sins!” She tried for a maniacal laugh, but inhaled spit and went into a coughing spasm instead.
Wiping her palms on her costume, she caught a glimpse of her watch. Yikes! It was past time to head home for a quick shower if she ever hoped to get to work.
Her Miata was beyond hot in its hidden parking place. After a quick glance around, she shed her grim-reaper attire, stuffed it in the trunk, and hopped in the car. The skin on her back and thighs, exposed by her white halter top and denim shorts, immediately protested the feel of hot leather. Even her teeth were hot.
Thirty minutes later she took a turn on two wheels and screeched to a stop in her allotted parking space. A glance at her watch confirmed she’d just made it on time. Again.
“Morning, Mr. Ferris!” she called as she breezed through the front door, baring her teeth in a smile.
“Meg.” He nodded and made a big deal of looking at the clock. “Perhaps you should try setting your alarm for an earlier time.”
And perhaps you should stick this job where the sun doesn’t shine. Of course, she couldn’t say that. She needed the job. But if the lottery ticket in her purse was a winner, she was so out of there. The first thing she would do would be to buy up all the property along Paradise Cove and then tear down the high-priced tenement her boss was building.
She sighed. Unfortunately, for now she was stuck in a thankless job, barely making her bills and working for a boss that made Attila the Hun look attractive.
Attila—rather, Roger—cleared his throat, drawing her attention.
“Didn’t we forget something, Megan?” He glanced pointedly at the empty coffeemaker. “Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Meg replied, dropping her purse into the drawer of her desk. “Too much coffee makes you jittery, you know.”
He made a sound like a growl. Coffee also made you irritable, she thought as she got up to make the stupid coffee.
Terra, Roger’s personal—and she took the position to an all-new level—assistant, shot Meg a condescending, from-the-teeth-out smile.
Meg glared at her. Everyone knew Terra only got the job because she let Roger know she had no problems with a little slap and tickle behind closed doors.
Meg shuddered. No job on Earth would be worth having sex with Roger Ferris. Yuck.
An eternity later, it was finally quitting time. She turned off her computer and switched the phones to the answering service. Bent beneath her desk to retrieve he
r purse, she heard Attila call her name.
“We’re taking off now,” Roger said to Meg, while at the same time smiling at his bimbo next to him. “Can I trust you to remember to lock up this time, after you dump all the trash?”
“Sure.” But I’ll need a bigger bag for Terra. “No problem.”
Without a backward glance, the two of them left.
“You’re welcome. Thanks so much!” she said to the empty doorway. “You have a fabulous evening, too.”
After her daily trip to the dumpster, she locked the office and headed for Paradise Cove.
Everyone on the construction site left early on Friday, so there was no need to don the sweltering costume.
The sun was setting by the time she finished her dinner and a quick shower. Clad in a tropical-print, gauze wrap skirt and halter top, she padded barefoot onto the sand of Paradise Cove, blanket draped over her arm.
Tonight, as always, she wondered how many nights she would have before access was closed to her and so many others.
Pushing the gloomy thought from her mind, she sat on her blanket and reached into her thermal bag for a wine cooler. She twisted off the top and took a drink, watching the brilliant colors of the sunset.
Was it wrong to pray for a winning lottery ticket? Anxiety gripped her chest, thundered through her entire body. Wait. What she felt was more than anxiety.
She blinked twice, sure she was imagining. That couldn’t be a cowboy on a golden horse riding down the beach, glowing in the waning sunset.
Could it?
3
T yler didn’t want to think about how happy he was to see another human being. Gram and Mason hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours, and he was already desperate for conversation.
He pulled back on Jim’s reins, slowing to a trot, and appreciated the view.
A woman with dark, shiny hair sat alone on a blanket on the beach. In the shadows it was difficult to see her face, but he knew without a doubt she was pretty.
Jim chose that moment to do his show step, prancing sideways down the beach. He leaned close to the horse’s ear. “Cut it out. I’m fine. I know how to talk to women. Just get me over there.”
In response, Jim reared up on his hind legs. It was a pose they’d done many times, but tonight it embarrassed Tyler. He pushed down on the pommel. “Damnit, Jim! Now just walk,” he said when the horse returned all four hooves to the sand.
The sight of the horse and rider, silhouetted by the sunset, took Meg’s breath away. They were magnificent—so picturesque they could’ve been a movie poster.
She hurried to close her mouth and appear nonchalant as they approached.
“Howdy.” The cowboy tipped his white hat.
Did he really say “howdy”? Before she could respond, the horse executed what looked remarkably like a bow.
“Did your horse just bow?” It had to be a dream. Real cowboys and horses didn’t do things like that.
Teeth glinted. “Yes, ma’am, he did.” The man stroked the horse’s pale mane and then patted its golden neck.
Leather creaked. The cowboy dismounted, his expression unreadable, and stood by the horse’s head,
Meg struggled to regulate her breathing. Before her stood the living, breathing embodiment of her every fantasy.
The horse nuzzled the man’s shoulder and pushed his back with enough force to make him stumble.
“Cut it out, Jim!” He swatted at the horse.
“You named your horse Jim?”
He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels to peer up at her from beneath his hat brim. “What would you have named him?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Silver?”
He grinned, teeth again flashing in the emerging moonlight. “But he’s a golden palomino, not silver. I think Goldie would sound sort of sissy for a stallion.”
She laughed and he joined in. He had a nice laugh.
Without invitation he sat on the blanket and placed his hat on his bent knee.
“Hi,” he said, his voice warm and intimate.
“I don’t remember seeing you here before.” She shifted an inch or two toward the edge of the blanket and concentrated on her breathing. Dang, he smelled good. She swallowed in an effort to prevent drooling.
“That makes two of us.” He reclined on one elbow, like he was posing for a calendar. “My grandmother owns the place on the bluff, up yonder.” He pointed toward Hannah Gardner-Edwards’s house. “I used to spend every summer here. If I’d met you, I’d have spent even more time here.” He closed the gap between them. “I’m Tyler.”
Her breath fisted in her chest. Shoot, shoot, shoot. He was the grandson Hannah talked about fixing her up with? If only she’d known. Hard on that thought came another more depressing one. Now, with her grim-reaper persona, getting to know him could be risky. A glance at his tan, handsome face sent a shot of yearning through her.
It might work. Thoughts of her Powers of Seduction book came to mind. Don’t give too much away on the first meeting. Make him work for it. She mustered a weak smile at his introduction and said, “I’m not.”
She held her breath, relaxing only when he widened his smile, as opposed to getting up and running into the night from the weirdo on the beach.
“You’re going to tell me your name, aren’t you?” He leaned closer. His minty breath bathed her heated lips. “Or am I going to have to kiss it out of you?”
Was he for real? Did lines like that actually work? Then again, this was a ships-passing-in-the-night kind of thing. Did it really matter?
Running her tongue over her dry lips was purely instinctual, but Tyler growled deep in his throat as though she’d done something erotic. So, she did it again.
“Better men than you have tried and failed,” she lied when she found her voice.
He smiled against her mouth. “I doubt that,” he said, his words vibrating her mouth an instant before his lips took possession.
She doubted it, too.
She would like to think she opened her mouth to stop him, but she knew better. He deepened the kiss, the warm smoothness of his tongue tangoing with hers as he lowered her to the blanket.
Good thing she was laying down or else she would have collapsed in a boneless pile of need. She closed her eyes tighter. If he was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up before the good part.
His calloused hands slid up her rib cage, grazing the sides of her breasts—making them heavy and aching—to settle beneath her hair. His knuckles bumped against the back of her neck while he worked the tie of her halter top.
Her heart began beating double-time, her breathing shallow. What they were doing was so not her style. But what had being herself gotten her? Her lack of a love life was what demanded she buy the seduction book in the first place. If she didn’t use the tips, what was the point?
Within seconds she was bare to the waist. Cool Gulf breeze caressed her breasts, tightening her nipples.
She should protest, she knew. And she might if she could form a coherent sentence. Which was really hard to do with his hot mouth devouring her right breast while his calloused hand kneaded the left one. Dang, it felt good.
Tingling started at her toes and worked its way up, surging moisture between her legs. It would be so embarrassing to climax from just a kiss. But it had been so long since she’d felt any kind of arousal. She gripped his firm buttocks through the worn denim and squeezed, attempting to pull him over for more intimate contact.
The horse whinnied and stomped, vibrating the sand.
Tyler stopped midsuckle, his back stiffening.
“I have to go.” In one movement he tugged her top into place and hopped to his feet. He tipped his hat. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
“But—” Was it something she did?
He took a few running steps to vault into the saddle.
And he would have vaulted into the saddle, had the horse not taken a
side step at the last second. Instead, jean-clad rear met hard-packed sand with a thud.
Until that moment, she’d never heard a horse laugh. She bit back a smile and picked up her wine cooler.
Cheeks burning, Tyler stood and dusted himself off. Jerking Jim’s reins, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Jim, damn him, lagged back until Tyler thought he would rip out the horse’s teeth if he tugged any harder. After a few more steps Jim followed docilely back to the stables.
“You made me look stupid out there, you know,” he told Jim, back in his stall, as he pulled off the saddle. In reply, the horse snuffled. “Yeah, I know, but old habits die hard. One kiss and I went into autopilot. Thanks for reining me in. I meant what I said. I’m turning over a new leaf.”
The horse snorted.
Tyler returned to the empty house, took a quick shower, and then stretched out naked on the cool sheets.
His first day as a new man, and what did he accomplish? He almost scored another one-night stand—the very thing he had vowed to stop. No more anonymous sex.
And he’d been made a fool of by his horse. That wasn’t new. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to retire. Jim was smarter than him; he began refusing to go into the arena quite a while before Tyler’s decision to retire. They both knew it was time to move on.
His thoughts swung back to his mystery woman; memory of her sweetly scented soft skin had him hard in record time. He shifted on the sheets and then did something he hadn’t done in years. He took matters into his own hand.
Every inch of skin on his body was on fire. Her heady scent again filled his nostrils. Would she have touched him like this? He cupped his balls, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the sensitive skin while his other hand gripped his iron-hard cock. At first the strokes were slow. He increased the pressure and speed, his breath coming harder and faster, his strokes emulating his mystery lover’s responsive body.
One thought of her, poised above him, took him to the brink.
The Cowboy Page 8