by Kaliana Cole
Fuck ’em. They could find out the hard way.
Chapter 3
By four o’clock that afternoon Emma had butterflies the size of small planes swooping around in her stomach. The satisfaction from introducing a new client to the wonders of equine therapy was diminishing with every tick of the clock toward five.
David Manning was a fourteen-year-old boy with Down syndrome. His parents had never considered the therapeutic advantages of horse riding until another client had recommended Em’s centre. The parental concern had melted as Tammy had patiently accepted David’s avid and sometimes extremely vocal attentions.
By the end of the hour-long session Em had felt guilty for every time she had threatened bodily harm to the priceless mare. Right up until the bitch had trod on her foot with purposeful intent as Em had returned her to the paddock.
The straw broom was raising a cloud of dust as she cleared away the last of the loose hay from the concrete floor, but Em’s mind was far from the motes eddying in the dying sunlight. The Whelan boys held center court in her thoughts as she dragged the pallets back into position.
Ty was a no-brainer. The man had her captivated. So intensely male, all that strength and power, and from what she had heard and seen, the man had a heart of gold.
There was talk of a playboy past when he had been young and green, but that had been years ago. Ty was now pushing forty, a man in his prime. Settled and sure of himself, he knew what he wanted and how to get it.
Slightly disconcerted that he had decided she was worthy of his attention, Em toyed with the idea of indulging. But Ty wasn’t a player. If he made a move he was playing for keeps.
Everyone knew his brothers were just waiting for him to make his choice. Em was more concerned about what would happen when he did. While hot romance and steamy sheets were her stock in trade, Emma’s reality was very different.
At twenty-two she had fallen hard for an up-and-coming lawyer who had swept her off her feet, wining and dining her, full of compliments and clichéd lines. Three years later, one week before her planned wedding, she had found out he was more interested in her trust fund. She had gone to surprise him with dinner one night and found him in bed with her best friend, well, not in bed exactly.
She had been shocked to find Carol bent over the kitchen bench, Chance driving hard into her from behind. Carol’s cries of “Oh, yes, that’s it. Right up my ass…” had left no doubt as to the nature of their joining.
Em had been dumbfounded.
In their time together Chance had been a gentle, uninspired lover. Once a week in the missionary position had been enough for him. If Em had tried to initiate anything he would smile at her patronizingly and tell her, “Later, dear.” Work was more important than sex.
Any release she had found was at her own hand or under the thrum of her trusty vibrator, always alone. Chance had been her first lover. Since he had appeared uninterested to experiment in any way, shape, or form, Em had accepted things as they were. She had accepted him as a romantic with little carnal needs. How wrong he had proven her.
His parting shot had been that she was a frigid bitch with nothing going for her but her money. No man would ever enjoy sleeping with a cold, unresponsive woman who lived in a fantasy world of roses and romance. A real man wanted his woman wild and willing, not timid and shy.
So Em had devoted herself to creating the heroes who made a woman feel wanted, cherished, and lusted for. Ones who took responsibility for their woman’s pleasure and made her feel things she had never felt before.
She had carefully protected her identity as she had become successful as a writer. Only four people were aware of her alter ego. Her advisor, who had previously been her father’s in the same capacity and had known Em since birth, her publicist, her editor, and now Beth. But somewhere, somehow, someone had tracked down her identity.
“Everyone needs a stalker to know they are successful,” her publicist had quipped when the eerie letters had started arriving at her private address.
But Emma valued her privacy and feared for her safety as the letters grew more and more sinister. Letters along the lines of “…you have no idea of how a real man treats a woman. I am going to tie you up and show you how to take it like a woman should…When a woman screams a man’s name she should have tears in her eyes, bitch…”
When she had asked her advisor to find a suitable location for her to relocate to, she had been pleasantly surprised with Liberty Springs. As a writer, she didn’t care if there was two feet of snow on the ground for damn near half the year, and the walled estate had been perfect for her needs. Henry Sawtell had only wished her happiness there as he had packed her off. He, just like everyone else in her life, would be communicating with her only through distance.
So had her stalker.
E-mails continued to be sent. Each time Em blocked the sender’s domain, anxious to be rid of him. It was six months since the last threat had arrived. He had promised to find her, find her and make her a star in the sick little fantasy he had going.
Em shuddered at the thought, tearing her mind away, refusing to give him room in her head.
Beth had been a godsend. The woman was steadfast, as loyal and honest as the day was long. Originally employed as a housekeeper, she had proved invaluable as a personal assistant, reorganizing Emma’s life until it ran smoother than ever before. She was great for bouncing ideas off and made the best coffee on God’s green earth.
Ron and Joe, her husbands, could be persuaded to come and give a hand with odd jobs like fencing and fixing leaks when needed. Ron also helped with riding sessions. He was a good horseman and enjoyed working with the special needs clients.
Overall, Emma was as happy with her life as she had ever been. Sure, she got lonely sometimes, ached to have someone to hold her through the night, but she knew her limitations. Frigid, inexperienced women like her had no business mixing it with the Whelans.
As much as Ty set her aflame and the other two piqued her interest, not to mention her ovaries, that way lay danger and disappointment.
Well, all she could hope for was that Ty grew tired of her unpracticed responses quickly, before he had a chance to break her heart.
She looked around the barn critically. It was as clean as it was going to get. She spied the empty buckets beside the feed bins. Making the morning’s feeds would give her something to do until the hay arrived and give her a few extra minutes in bed the following morning.
The bins had clearly been designed for someone with a much longer reach than her modest five-foot-four figure afforded. She was endeavoring to scrape up the last of the oaten chaff, balancing over the edge on her hips when the sound of a truck pulling up outside startled her. She over-balanced, catching herself on her arms at the last moment.
Too far gone to lever herself back out, but too stubborn to go all the way and cover herself in chaff to scramble back out, Em held her body in place.
* * * *
It was the sight of two shapely, denim-clad legs sticking straight up out of the feed bin that met Colby as he stepped down out of the truck. He grinned as he heard the muffled but creative cursing emanating from the bin. Such a sweet-looking package to possess a potty mouth. That woman could curse like a sailor.
He ignored the “what the fuck?” that Zach muttered as he puzzled out how she had come to be in that predicament. A predatory grin curled his lips. He didn’t care about how it happened, only the possibilities it presented. Colby made sure he beat the other two to her side. He knew Ty was pulling up behind them in a matter of minutes
He peered over the edge, her swearing more audible from this vantage point. The girl really had a way with words. He decided to let her know she had an audience. “I thought you city girls were meant to be smart, Em. The feed goes on the inside. You are supposed to stay on the outside.”
“Get me out of here, you jackass!”
“Now, now, Em. Is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armor?”
“Come on, darlin’, one little ‘please,’ and I will lift you straight up out of there. I hear you said it this morning. It doesn’t hurt too much.”
Zach grinned at her suggestion that Colby go and do something anatomically impossible. “Hey, Em, I’ll help you out. I don’t care if you don’t say please. I just want a kiss.”
Colb was somewhat confused when she asked if all the Whelans practiced the same lines, or if it was purely a result of their limited intelligence. Even upside down, her biting wit was undampened.
Colby reassessed his terms. “No, a kiss is definitely called for. I hear it is the standard reward when rescuing damsels in distress.”
With a growl of fury, Em capitulated. “All right, you arrogant, juvenile assholes, one kiss. That’s it! Now get me out of here before I throw up.”
Colby shared a triumphant grin with Zach before reaching in to take hold of her shoulders. She could call them any names she wanted as long as they got to taste her before Ty. Both men held her steady as the blood rushed away from her brain. Her legs were so unsteady as she struggled to regain her equilibrium that she needed their support.
As soon as her world righted itself, Em visibly braced herself for their onslaught. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
The two brothers shared a look. It was Zach who answered, “Not yet, Em. I think I will save mine for after we finish with the hay. What about you, Colb, you happy to wait?” He grinned, his stormy eyes alight with mischief.
“Yeah, anticipation always adds a bit of spice. You just hold that thought, Em. We will have that hay off soon enough.” He patted her on the ass as he made his way back to the truck, ignoring her gasp of outrage.
* * * *
Em turned to find Ty watching. “Lovely men, these brothers of yours. No scruples whatsoever.”
Ty walked over with a wide grin creasing his stubbled face. “They’re enterprising boys, what can I say?” He reached out and plucked some pieces of chaff from the ends of her hair. “I will get someone over tomorrow to fix up these bins for you. It could have been dangerous if we weren’t here.”
“If you lot had not pulled up I wouldn’t have fallen in. I am so freakin’ nervous. It is entirely your fault, Ty.”
She tried to ignore the intent way his eyes followed her lips as she spoke, but his attention was too much. She licked them nervously, her breath catching as he leant down slightly.
“Making you nervous wasn’t what I had in mind, Em. Eager, a little expectant hopefully, but never nervous.” His hand reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking against her bottom lip. “You have nothing to fear from us, darlin’. We won’t take anything you are not willing to give. But give us a chance, Em. We all deserve a little happiness, even you.”
He narrowed his focus until Emma was sure nothing in his world existed except for her lips, his head lowering until barely a whisper separated them. But he pulled back with a smile, giving her bottom lip one final sweep of his callused thumb. “I think I will save mine for later, too. I want my taste to be the last one on your lips when you go to bed tonight.”
The deep pitch of his voice rumbled along her spine and the smile he shot her as he went to join his brothers was heated, possessive, and full of promise.
“Fuck!” The universal expletive didn’t even come close to venting the maelstrom of emotion bombarding Emma.
Anger, arousal, anticipation, and the feeling that the world was playing some cruel joke on her warred with the tiny spark of hope that dared to kindle in her heart.
She pulled on the heavy chaps and work gloves that would protect her from the hay. Some hard work would help her brain to function once more. That is, if any of these testosterone freaks would let her pick up a bale of hay.
An hour later two neatly stacked piles filled the shed. Green, fine-stalked lucerne hay made up the larger pile while sweet-smelling pasture hay sat opposite. She had been amazed at how quickly the supply had dwindled over winter.
Three very sweaty, dust-covered men were finishing up the cleanup, sweeping down the truck bed and tidying the shed. Emma had barely a raised a sweat and had but one or two stalks of hay in her hair.
Out of the nearly five hundred bales she thought she might have laid a hand on twenty. One of the brothers always seemed to beat her to the next bale. Never overtly, they didn’t push in front of her, yet they always seemed to be there before her.
Zach caught her attention, a wide grin creasing his dusty face. “I’ve got about as much dust on the inside as I do on the outside. Have you got a beer for us, Em?”
“I think I’ve got a six-pack in the fridge. You know where the basin is if you want to clean up.”
She headed off to the house to get the Mexican beer she had brought for the occasion. It was Colby’s favorite. The other two would just have to deal with it or go without. For herself she just grabbed a violently cerise sports drink that Beth had kindly put in the fridge this afternoon. Although Em was feeling much better than when she had woken up this morning, the electrolyte drink would go a long way towards helping her body recover from the abuse she had inflicted upon it last night.
The sight that met her when she rounded the corner into the barn stole her breath and every scrap of common sense she had ever possessed. Her nipples pebbled instantly and the flesh between her legs throbbed in demand. Her mind screamed at her that she was creaming over the wrong Whelan, but her body was beyond caring.
Zach and Colby stood just inside, blotting water off their magnificently bare torsos with their shirts. Muscles rippled enticingly, decorated by beads of water.
Their bodies were lean, but wide through the shoulder, with plenty of mouthwatering depth to their chests. Zach was longer through the waist, making him look leaner than Colby’s bulkier-looking body. But Colby had a darker hue to the hair peppering his chiseled chest, the line drawing her eyes ever downward.
Snug denim sat low on both sets of hips.
Surely there had never been a finer sight.
A movement in the corner dragged her eyes from all that bared flesh, and then the scene at the wash basin held her spellbound. Never in all the time she had known him had Emma seen Ty bare-chested.
Oh, lord, had she fantasized about what that chest would look like under his navy tank! His wedge-shaped back was exposed to her now as he leaned over the wash basin, splashing water around the back of his neck to get rid of the irritating dust. Corded muscles danced and bulged with every movement of his arms. Such width to that broad back, emphasized so sweetly by his taut waist. The man was a fucking work of art.
Em caught her bottom lip in her teeth to contain her gasp as he turned around.
His chest was freaking huge! Big slabs of muscle, edges clear cut, like rough-hewn granite. Em’s eyes were held captive by the arresting sight. He was built like a pro wrestler. She bit down harder on her lip, restraining an alien impulse to walk right up and sink her teeth into the tantalizing flesh. Even in her wildest fantasy he had not looked like this.
Alpha male, the vestiges of youth long gone, tempered into primal masculinity. All hard lines and brutal strength. Emma melted, his physical dominance stealing away any trace of resistance that existed. Her face flamed as she felt her panties dampen. Never before had she reacted so strongly, felt such arousal.
* * * *
Ty had known the moment Em had stepped into the barn. His predatory instincts had detected the hitch in her breathing as she had clapped eyes on his brothers. He could sense her confusion as her body reacted with little thought to propriety.
He had felt the touch of her eyes, searing like a brand as she had perused his body. Ty had endeavored to stay as he was, to let her look her fill, but the desire to see her reaction overrode his intentions.
The way she was biting her bottom lip made him want t
o do the same, to feel its plush resilience between his teeth. Her hazel eyes were sparkling with tones of unrefined amber, a hue he hadn’t seen in them before.
Her breathing was choppy, her breasts straining against the T-shirt she wore, their hardened peaks showing clearly despite the bra containing them. He clenched his jaw as a flush stole up her cheeks and she pressed her legs together.
Her body was creaming, and they hadn’t even touched her.
He had hoped she would have the passion to keep up with the three of them, but never had he suspected such a raw ardor to lurk beneath her sophisticated façade. He walked toward her. For the first time since reentering the barn, her eyes flew to his face.
* * * *
The slate of his eyes was near black, the look so intense she felt its touch all the way to her soul. Emma swallowed as a tiny grin curled the corners of his wide mouth. She felt like a gazelle before a large predator, quivering with the need to flee but unsure of which way to leap.
Ty stopped right in front of her, his collarbones level with her eyes. She awaited his move breathlessly, awash with anticipation. She felt the approach of two large bodies behind her, felt the heat of their presence. All avenues of escape had been cut off.
Like the gazelle that had been surrounded, she could only freeze, hoping a lack of movement would let the danger pass on by.
Her heartbeat slammed in her ears. She could feel the blood racing through her veins.
She nearly collapsed with relief when Ty merely reached out and plucked the six-pack from her nerveless fingers. He kept his eyes on her as he tore the longneck bottle from the package, a knowing grin playing on his rugged face.
He knew damn well just how aroused she was and how close she had come to panic. Only his impeccable timing had defused the situation.
She didn’t even flinch when Colby reached around her to take the beer Ty offered, not even when he made sure his bare chest grazed her arm as he did so. She relaxed into the brief contact. Emboldened by her acceptance, Zach went one step further, placing a hand at her waist as he too reached past for an offered drink.