The Cowboy

by Vonna Harper, P. J. Mellor, Nelissa Donovan

  Muscles tightened from his feet up the backs of his legs to his butt. His back arched. His release slammed into him. He shuddered and drifted off to sleep only to awaken a little while later, tangled in the wet sheets, hard and needy again.

  He looked at the mess he’d made earlier and groaned. There was only one thing left to do.

  Laundry.

  Don’t be a tease by withholding sex. Don’t be shy. It’s a safe bet your target is more turned on than you by the prospect of physical gratification.

  Meg’s cheeks heated. Her guilty glance swept the office as she shut the Powers of Seduction book and tucked it safely into her tote.

  She’d been bold—as least, she thought she had. What made Tyler run?

  The chime on the door sounded. Tyler walked in in bold, magnificent, living flesh and blood.

  If she were the fainting type, she was sure she’d be on the floor.

  Mortified he would reveal that they had met, she slumped lower in her desk chair and hid behind the computer monitor. How on earth had he found her?

  Tyler glanced her way, then zeroed in on tacky Terra. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine what drew his attention.

  Terra shoved her boobs together with her upper arms and leaned over her desk. Probably on the off-chance he hadn’t seen all her assets. “May I help you?” she purred in her imitation sex-kitten voice.

  To his credit, Tyler didn’t seem to be struck mute by Terra’s obvious flirting. He removed his hat and nodded in greeting. “Roger Ferris in?”

  “Did you have an appointment, Mr….?”

  “Last. Tyler Last. I’m Hannah Gardner-Edwards’s grandson.” He looked past her to the door of Roger’s office. “I really do need to speak with Mr. Ferris. On my grandmother’s behalf.”

  Terra slumped back in her chair, her collagen-enhanced lips in a pout she no doubt practiced in the mirror. “Sure. Go on in.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Meg shot out of her chair. “I just remembered I need to, ah, pick up some doughnuts and, um, go to the post office.” She grabbed her tote and fished for her keys as she walked to the entrance, one eye on Roger’s door. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  “But who will answer the phone? Take messages? Make appointments? Meg, what if—”

  “Don’t worry! You’ll be fine.” She had to get out of there.

  Tyler frowned at the sound of a familiar voice coming from the outer office, then looked down at the model of the beach community. What had he just noticed before he started listening to the voices? Oh, yeah. “There’s no public beach access.”

  Roger Ferris nodded and leaned back in his executive chair, fingers tented. “It’s a gated community. Don’t you think public beach access would negate that?”

  Tyler regarded the weasel for a moment before responding. “In Texas it’s illegal to have a private beach.”

  “Who said anything about a private beach?”

  “In effect, that’s what you’re doing by not having public beach access.”

  “The public can always access the beach,” Roger assured him with a smirk. “By water.” At Tyler’s look, he went on. “The law states no private beach, which means it has to be accessible. It is accessible.”

  The snake in the grass had a point. Damn him.

  Without a word, Tyler nodded, put on his hat, and walked out of the office. Maybe he should talk to the grim reaper.

  The blonde bimbo tried to waylay him again, but he kept walking. The dark-haired girl was gone. He could escape.

  Outside he shook his head and resettled his Stetson. There was a time, not long ago, when he would have taken what the blonde offered.

  Images of the mystery woman on the beach again drifted through his mind.

  He didn’t even know her name. Why did he feel so connected?

  The blonde was more the type he’d always been attracted to, yet she left him cold. Hell, he hadn’t even noticed the other one, except that she had dark hair and, for an instant, his heart had tripped at the thought of running into the one woman who had captured his interest.

  No doubt about it, in his mind he’d already cut a filly from the herd.

  4

  “H ell, no! We won’t go! Hell, no! We won’t go!” Sweat trickled beneath the black grim reaper’s garb, sticking Meg’s T-shirt to her heated skin. “Public beach means public access! Save the beach!” she yelled into the bullhorn.

  The Texas sun beat down as hot as it had since her arrival two hours ago. Weren’t the construction workers ever going to pack up for the day, so she could leave?

  A movement caught her peripheral vision. Tyler! And he was headed straight for her. For a moment she stood, admiring the sure stride, the long gait, and the lean hips, while he steadily closed the distance between them.

  She turned to run, but he was quicker. A hard hand clamped around her arm and held fast.

  “Who are you and why are you so determined to stop construction?” he asked, peering down into the eye holes in her mask as though he could see right to her soul. “We need to talk.”

  Hot and tired, not to mention sexually frustrated, thanks to him, she made a growling sound and tugged to free her arm. He held on.

  She really hated to do it, but if he found out who she was, he could jeopardize everything. Thoughts of her embarrassment on the beach Friday night gave her strength.

  With a mighty swing she whacked him in the head with her bullhorn.

  He fell to his knees but was obviously unhurt.

  Hefting her tunic, she grabbed her sign and sprinted for the safety of her car, relieved that no footsteps followed.

  Tyler got to his feet, rubbing the spot where the edge of the bullhorn hit. Lucky for him, he had a hard head.

  Behind him construction noise dwindled as the workers put away their tools for the day. He glanced at the setting sun, anticipation making him forget the grim reaper.

  Tonight he would discover the name of the future mother of his children. Or have a hell of a good time trying.

  Meg dabbed perfume in her cleavage—well, what cleavage she had, anyway. Compared to tacky Terra, she was practically flat.

  Excitement sizzled through her veins. She patted the seduction book and said a little prayer. It’d been so long since she’d had sex, she was almost giddy. She picked up the giant economy-sized bottle of chilled wine, two glasses, and headed for the beach.

  The double handful of condoms she’d tucked into her bra gave her bustline an interesting, though lumpy, appearance and scratched with each step.

  Finally she reached her destination. She set the bottle and glasses aside and spread her blanket on the sand, then sat down to wait. Moonlight gilded the water. Tonight the beauty escaped her; the waves did not work their soothing magic. Each lap on the shore was another minute she waited alone.

  She felt the vibration before she saw them. Rider and horse moved as one entity, coming ever closer with each powerful beat.

  Moonlight bronzed Tyler’s bare chest, his powerful muscles rippling the awesome expanse of smooth skin. Atop his golden head was the ever-present hat. As he drew closer, she saw he wore cutoff jeans and…boots?

  The horse stopped. Tyler alighted in one graceful movement to stand before her in all his magnificent glory. Wow. She hoped she didn’t blow her chance.

  Her gaze traveled hungrily over his incredible body, causing her to worry about her physical shortcomings. Even his legs were beautiful.

  “Nice boots,” she said and then winced. Smooth, Meg, smooth.

  Tyler appeared not to notice. His grin flashed white. “You like ’em? They’re my beach boots.”

  “Beach boots?” Was he kidding?

  “Yep. Had ‘em made special just to wear here.” He hefted one leg, the boot close to her face. “Eel.”

  She could only nod, having a direct view up the leg of his cutoffs. It thrilled her to see he was commando beneath his shorts. She took that as a good sign.

  While he settled on the blanket
, she reached for the wine and glasses.

  “I missed you this weekend,” Tyler said close to her ear.

  Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought. He’d actually noticed she wasn’t around. Imagine that.

  “I, um, had stuff to do.”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving a burning trail of need. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

  Lordy, he had a smooth voice. Deep and rich, with just a hint of the Texas drawl that always made her hot. She shifted on the blanket, wishing she hadn’t worn the thong panties that were trying to escape the hard way.

  “No. I was busy. Really.”

  “Kind of lonely,” he murmured against the shell of her ear, causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention.

  “You had Jim; you weren’t totally alone,” she said in a weak, breathy voice, then tilted her head for easier access.

  His low laugh rumbled where his chest touched her ribs, setting off vibrations deep within her. “I’d never do this with Jim,” he said, then ran the tip of his tongue along the outer rim of her ear. “I’d get hairs in my teeth.”

  She hoped her giggle didn’t spoil the mood, but the mental image of him dragging his tongue along the horse’s ear was just too hilarious.

  In the gathering darkness, he grinned down at her. “I knew I could get a laugh out of you.” His lips brushed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to tell me your name tonight, darlin’?”

  The intimate smoothness of his voice, combined with him calling her “darlin’”, almost broke her resolve. Almost.

  She shoved the chilled wine bottle between them, gaining some distance. “Why don’t you pour the wine while I think about it?”

  Wine splashed into the goblets, the surf and Jim’s occasional snorts the perfect counterpoint.

  Tyler dug a little hole next to the blanket and sunk the bottle to keep it upright and then turned back to her, his glass raised. “What are we drinking to?”

  His light eyes reflected the moonlight. She swallowed and racked her mind for an answer. Finally she said, “You decide.”

  He looked out at the water for a while, hat tugged low on his forehead. Then he smiled and removed his hat.

  She didn’t trust that smile, but she definitely felt its heat clear to her bones. Whatever he was thinking, she instantly knew she wanted to be a part of it.

  “Wagers.”

  “Wagers.” She took a sip of wine. “What kind of wagers?”

  “You never played strip betting?” He touched his bare chest with his spread fingers in a gesture of mock surprise.

  “I don’t think you have either.” She took another sip. “I think it’s something you just made up.”

  “Careful, you’ll hurt my tender feelings.” He finished his wine in one gulp and countersunk the stem in the sand. “Let me explain the rules, darlin’.” He held up his hat. “I’ll bet you I can throw my hat to hang on my saddle. If I make it, you have to take something off.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  He grinned. “That’s the beauty of this game. It’s a win-win proposition. If I lose, I take something off, and so on, until we’re both nekkid.”

  Pressing her lips together to keep from smiling, she asked, “But what’s the purpose of the game?”

  His teeth flashed in the darkness. “To get nekkid.”

  She laughed. “Gee, what a surprise.” Since she had every intention of getting naked with him, she had no objections. “Go ahead. Try.”

  Without looking in the horse’s direction, he let out a short, shrill whistle and threw his hat like a giant Frisbee back over his shoulder.

  Jim shuffled to the side. The hat landed gracefully on the pommel.

  “You cheated,” she pointed out, pouring more wine into both glasses.

  “No rule says you can’t use props.” Glass rims clinked together. “Take it off,” he ordered in a raspy voice, then took a sip of wine.

  “What should I take off first?” She finished her wine, hoping to muster courage.

  “Lady’s choice.” He leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles, drawing her attention to his beach boots.

  Meeting his gaze, she stood and reached beneath her skirt. With a little shimmy, the thong slid down her legs, after which she neatly stepped out of it and tossed it to the far side of the blanket.

  The way Tyler looked at her was enough to make her spontaneously combust.

  Sitting back on the blanket, she arranged her skirt for maximum coverage and picked up her glass. “Your turn.”

  “What’s the bet?” His voice sounded choked. That was a good thing, in her opinion.

  “I bet I can say the alphabet before you can finish off that glass of wine.” Before he got the glass to his mouth, she took a deep breath and began, finishing with a triumphant “…X, Y, Z!”

  Tyler swallowed the last of his wine on Z. “Damn, you talk fast!” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Did I make it?”

  “Nope.”

  Rising, he unzipped his cutoffs, one metal tooth at a time. When he stopped, she raised an eyebrow. “If I take them off,” he said, “the game is over.”

  A smile tilted her mouth; the wine was definitely giving her a buzz. Blaming the wine was preferable to the idea of Tyler causing her heart to race and the feeling of light-headedness. “No, you’d still have on your beach boots.”

  “Believe me, darlin’, the boots would be no hindrance. Maybe you should take something else off…just to make it fair.”

  A ripple of awareness flushed her from head to toe.

  With deliberate, slow movements, she unlaced the front of her knit tank top. The front popped open, revealing her lace-covered breasts.

  In a flash, Tyler had her in his arms, tugging the top down her arms and tossing it aside.

  “Maybe we should kiss a while, to cool down,” he said against her lips.

  Although kissing Tyler made her anything but cool, she was game. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down the last millimeter to initiate the kiss.

  Laying her back on the blanket, he covered her with his hard body, taking command of the kiss. His hand snaked into her bra cup and held up a condom package.

  “My own personal condom dispenser. How did you know I needed one?” He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows, and said, “I like it.”

  His boot heel clicked against her ankle, causing her to wince.

  Breaking the kiss, she dared, “I bet you can’t take off your boots without using your hands.”

  He leaned back and smiled. “Nope. And neither can you take off your skirt that way.” He sat up and tugged off both boots in record time and then looked pointedly at her. “Game over. Skirt. Off.”

  Knees wobbling, she stood and tucked her thumbs under the elastic waistband of her pink gauze skirt. Ever so slowly, she lowered the skirt. Cool sea breeze caressed her hips and navel. The skirt inched lower.

  Gaze locked with his, she let the skirt drop to her feet. A fine mist from the Gulf glazed her skin, whispered across her exfoliated folds.

  The next instant, Jim whinnied and knocked into Tyler, pitching him forward. His head hit Meg’s abdomen, knocking her flat on the blanket.

  Tyler did a face plant between Meg’s thighs, up close and personal.

  5

  M eg looked at the back of Tyler’s head, too stunned to react. Too mortified to move.

  Behind Tyler, Jim pranced backward on the beach as though he were very pleased with what he’d just done.

  Tyler smiled against her tender flesh. At least, it felt like he smiled.

  She jerked. Was that his tongue?

  He caressed her thighs, relaxing her muscles, hands moving higher until he coaxed her to spread her legs.

  His warm, velvety tongue stroked her labia, pausing at the front to swirl around her distended nub.

  He placed a tender kiss where all her nerve endings centered, screaming for more.

  Their
gazes locked.

  “Tell me your name.” His hot breath bathed her weeping flesh.

  Resisting an insane urge to clamp her legs together, she managed a shaky, whispered, “No.”

  He reached for the wine bottle. The aroma registered at the same time the cool liquid trickled between her legs. His eager tongue lapped every last drop, and then he sucked the nub until she arched off the blanket, leaving her weak and needy. And so close to the verge of what could very well be her first genuine climax her teeth ached.

  “More,” she finally said in a choked voice.

  He stood and shucked his shorts while she watched in rapt fascination.

  His skin was almost blinding white from midthigh to waist. Although she tried to avoid staring, her gaze kept coming back to his impressive…assets. Said assets were in fine form, jutting from a nest of sandy curls.

  “That’s it,” he said, obviously following her line of vision. “Dispenser.” He held out his hand. When she just looked at the tip of his fingers, he wiggled them and said, “Condom! Give me a damn condom!”

  In her mind she’d pictured a grand seduction, with her rolling on the condom on in a slow, torturous path.

  Reality was quite different.

  With a strangled sound, he yanked a condom out of her bra, the weather-proof edge of the wrapper scraping her sensitive skin. He ripped it open with his teeth and, in the blink of an eye, was sheathed and ready for action.

  It was all very impressive, and she would have told him so, but before she could draw a breath, he hooked his hands on her shoulders, spreading her legs wider with his knees.

  In one powerful thrust, he entered her. Immediately, he began plunging. Deeper. Harder.

  Her breath hitched. Before she realized it, her orgasm rushed up to meet her, nearly drowning her in a tidal wave of release.

  In the moonlight she caught a glimpse of Tyler’s smile and rallied her strength.

  He wasn’t going to get away that easy. Gone were the days of sexual submission. I am woman, hear me roar. She was going to be in charge of her own destiny—and it started with controlling her climax.