One Hot Cowboy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  He regarded her with unveiled amusement, even as he maintained his light, easy grip on her wrist. “How about a date?” His hand slid lower, to twine playfully with her palm.

  She blinked, for a moment going very still. “Excuse me?”

  J.D. grinned at the way she was suddenly trembling. Not with fear, he decided, but reaction to his nearness and the chemistry sizzling between them. “You know. A date. It’s a social engagement or appointment arranged beforehand. In this case, between you and me.”

  Her mouth fell open in surprise, then just as swiftly snapped shut. “No.”

  The quick turndown both irked and amazed him. After all, he had felt the sweet yielding of her body against his. More than anything, he wanted her in his arms again. He sensed, though he figured she would be the last person on earth to admit it, that it was what she wanted, too.

  “No?” he prodded.

  Maggie dismissed him with a cool, haughty look that would have discouraged a lesser man. She jerked her hand from his. “Sorry. You’re not my type.”

  He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops on either side of his fly and regarded her with a speculation he was sure she would just as soon avoid. “Funny, from the way you were looking at me a couple of minutes ago,” he drawled, letting his eyes linger on the honeyed softness of her golden hair and the perfection of her ivory skin before returning to her long lashes and blue eyes, “I thought I was exactly your type.”

  “Well, you’re wrong!” Maggie fumed, beginning to look both nervous and embarrassed as she stepped back swiftly and came up against a post.

  He watched deep pink color sweep across her face as he once again slowly, deliberately closed the distance between them. “What’s the matter, princess, am I not rich enough for your blood?”

  Maggie swept off her hat and raked a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. “Money has nothing to do with it.”

  Hearing her fib sent anger surging through him all over again; if there was one thing he wanted from the women tromping through this ranch on a weekly basis, it was honesty. “Bull! Money has everything to do with it. That and the fact you’re after the owner of the ranch.” He planted a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the post. “Providing he’s handsome and sexy and not a simple ranch hand.”

  “You’re a ranch hand and there’s nothing simple about you, J.D.,” Maggie told him dryly, letting her hat drop to her side.

  “True.” He was glad she had noticed. “So you’ll give up on the boss and go out with me?”

  “Sorry.” Maggie dismissed his suggestion with a repressive glance and an uncaring wave of her hat in his direction. “I don’t need any reminders of my fiasco here.”

  Like hell she didn’t, J.D. thought.

  “Not even this?” he asked as he quickly, expertly hauled her back into his arms, lowered his head to hers, and throwing caution to the wind, stole a quick but thorough kiss. At the touch of their lips, she melted in his arms, just the way he’d thought she would.

  The bittersweet pangs of desire, the yearning to be close to someone again, both so long absent from his life, came flooding back with gargantuan force. How long, he wondered as he tangled his hands in the soft fullness of her golden hair, since he’d been presented with such a challenge, or been near a woman he’d wanted even half as much? How long since he’d ached with pleasure and been more drawn to the present than the past?

  Maggie didn’t know how it had happened. She had plotted the day’s events so carefully! But somehow, she had lost the upper hand. Her carefully orchestrated husband hunt had been sidetracked by a reckless cowboy who thought nothing of hauling her into his strong arms, pressing her against his hard, muscled length, and kissing her as if there were no tomorrow for either of them, only today. And as his hot, clever lips wrenched an unwilling response from her, she began to feel as if there were only this moment, this man. His thick mustache tickled her upper lip and his unshaven jaw scorched the tender skin of her face. But she knew she had no choice but to put the boundaries back.

  Maggie drew herself up with a low moan of regret, and pushed him away.

  SILENCE STRETCHED between them, broken only by the uneven rasp of their breaths. It didn’t take a genius, J.D. noted, to see that Maggie regretted the kiss ever happening. Maggie squared her shoulders and gave him a withering look as she replaced her hat squarely on her head. “You need to go somewhere and cool off. Now.”

  J.D. grinned, thinking the best way to do that would be to make long, luxurious love with her, in places both hot and cool. He tipped the brim of his hat back, to better see her face, and widened his eyes appreciatively. “I’m willing, if you are.”

  She moistened her lips and gave him a droll look as she tugged the brim of her hat lower across her honey blond brow. “I imagine you’ve heard this before, cowboy, but you are much too forward for your own good,” she told him passionately.

  He knew. “That’s ‘cause I realize life is too short for me not to go after what I want, when I want it, and what I want right now is you, Maggie Porter,” he said softly, pushing aside the bittersweet memories of his own loss, and using the direct, honest approach that had always worked for him in the past.

  But it didn’t work on Maggie.

  Her sassy chin lifted. Her eyes, serious and determined now, met his.

  “Well that’s just too bad,” she retorted. “Because what I want is a husband, not a hot-blooded lover.”

  J.D. eyed her unhappily as he forgot about his own problems and started concentrating on her. He’d thought the worst of her from the get-go and, damn it, it was all true. All she cared about was snagging herself a rich hubby. “That why you pulled your horse’s shoe off after you ignored all the No Trespassing signs and wandered onto the ranch?” he demanded.

  Maggie regarded him with a stunned look. “How did you know about that?” she asked incredulously.

  J.D. shrugged and rocked his weight forward onto the balls of his feet. “There are hidden security cameras all over the ranch, to protect against just such intrusions.” He narrowed his glance at her. “Seems there are a lot of women these days who are determined to marry millionaire ranchers. That was the plan, wasn’t it? Play the damsel in distress and hope your plight would be brought directly to Jake MacIntyre’s attention?” He gave her a look that dared her to admit it.

  Maggie stiffened rebelliously under his bluntly assessing gaze. “I admit I’ve researched suitable mates,” she replied recalcitrantly as she folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts. “Jake MacIntyre just happened to be first on my list.”

  “That’s the most cockeyed plan I’ve ever heard,” Jake said, tearing his eyes from the soft, womanly curves of her breasts, and returning his attention to her upturned face.

  “I disagree,” Maggie said with a stubbornness that would have been winning if it were not so ill-advised. “I think it’s bound to work better than anything else I have done.”

  J.D. leaned in close enough to pick up the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume. “Which is what exactly?” he asked, as the fragrance of her set off a chain reaction within him that went straight to his groin.

  “Wait for the right man to come along and sweep me off my feet.”

  J.D. didn’t know why exactly—things like this generally didn’t bother him, hadn’t for a long while—but he didn’t want to think about Maggie with another man. Particularly one who was not suited for her and vice versa. “It hasn’t happened?” he ascertained.

  Once she had come close, Maggie remembered, only to find out all was not as it seemed. She shook her head sadly. “Not by a long shot. But that’s all right. It will happen,” she said, determined. “I just need to keep looking.”

  “There are more efficient ways of looking.” J.D. promised as he leaned in as if to kiss her again.

  Her heart racing, Maggie braced her hand on his chest and held him at bay. “As I said, I am looking for the marrying kind, cowboy.” She studied him cooly. “Somethi
ng tells me you are not that.”

  He reacted as if it amazed him to discover how close she was to the truth. He stepped back, much to her dismay.

  “I admit marriage is not what I’m looking for,” he said, as he led her horse back out into the sunshine.

  “Just as I figured,” Maggie said, disappointed despite herself. Which was too bad. For one crazy reckless second, she had been tempted to give in to temptation and go on a date with him. Why, she didn’t know. “See you, then.” She grabbed Buttercup’s reins and prepared to remount.

  Before she could swing herself up into the saddle, a stern woman in a starched white nurse’s uniform charged into the courtyard between the stables and the ranch house. She was dragging two squirming mudcovered pint-sized little boys by their shirt collars. She looked ready to deliver the spanking of a lifetime. And the little prekindergartners knew it.

  “Save us, Unka Jake! Save us before she whales the tar out of us!” they shouted, looking straight at J.D.

  “Uncle Jake?” Maggie repeated, dumbfounded. Jake wasn’t here. She narrowed her glance at J.D. Or was he?

  Frowning, the cowboy who’d introduced himself as J.D. reached to rescue the two wildly squirming boys. As the nurse let go of them, they sagged against J.D. in silent, mortified relief, and held on tight.

  “What the devil is going on here?” J.D. demanded.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” the nurse announced, looking straight at J.D. “I’ve had it with these two ruffians. Mr. MacIntyre, I quit!”

  Chapter Three

  Maggie turned to J.D. alias Jake MacIntyre. “You rotten scheming lowlife!”

  The real Jake MacIntyre grinned at her, even as he struggled to hold on to his two squirming nephews. “Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?” he inquired with a taunting grin.

  Aware she had never felt more humiliated or embarrassed in her life, Maggie fumed, “You deliberately misrepresented yourself to me!”

  “Hey,” he said with mock defensiveness, “a lot of my friends do call me J.D. At least they did when I was growing up.”

  “But you couldn’t resist tweaking me just a little,” Maggie asserted, thoroughly incensed, yet spellbound just the same. Darn it all, she wished his mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes weren’t so full of mischief and that his dark mustache didn’t curl up so roguishly at the corners when he smiled.

  Jake shrugged. “When I heard you were coming—”

  “Really.” Maggie lifted a brow. “How?”

  Clearly, Jake thought, she did not believe he’d been tipped off.

  Jake grinned, leaned a little closer, and enlightened her smugly. “A friend at the Houston Chronicle told me—”

  “What exactly?” Maggie interrupted again, looking a little less sure of herself.

  “—that you were doing research on a number of rich, eligible Texans. And that, of all of them, I interested you the most. Seein’ as how I don’t appreciate bein’ spied on or wanted for my money, I figured I’d have a little fun with you when you did show up. And now that I’ve done so, I figure we’re even.”

  “Not quite,” Maggie replied, still fuming as she planted her hands on her slender hips. “But we will be,” she promised hotly. One way or another, Jake MacIntyre would rue the day he had laid eyes on her.

  Jake looked down at his nephews—to see them still staring, enthralled, at their visitor—before he shot Maggie a wicked grin. “I look forward to it,” he drawled. “Now, Nurse Ratchet—” Jake turned his attention to the furious woman in white. “How about a raise—effective immediately—and a promise that my nephews will be good from here on out.”

  “Your nephews couldn’t be good if they tried, which they certainly are not doing!” Nurse Ratchet replied, her patience with all the MacIntyre men obviously exhausted. “And furthermore, my name is not Nurse Ratchet—”

  “Coulda fooled me,” Jake muttered beneath his breath.

  Amused, it was all Maggie could do not to grin.

  “I am leaving as soon as I collect my two weeks’ severance pay from Harry Wholesome. And good riddance, I say!” Turning on her heel, the nurse marched away. Behind her, Jake’s two nephews stuck out their tongues at her departing backside.

  “Hey.” Jake frowned at them. “Cut that out.” His frown deepened. “It’s not polite.”

  “Sorry,” the one with the red hair and freckles finally said.

  “But she’s not nice,” his towheaded brother explained.

  “Not at all.”

  And then questions came all at once.

  “Unka Jake, who is this lady?”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  “Not yet,” Jake boasted with a devil-may-care grin aimed in Maggie’s direction. “But she will be,” he vowed.

  “Ha! In your dreams, cowboy,” Maggie told him.

  And was rewarded with a dazzling smile from Jake.

  “Fellas,” Jake said with much too much flamboyance. “I’d like you to meet Maggie Porter. She’s been trespassing on the ranch, but because she’s such a great kisser,” he stated magnanimously, “I’ve decided to forgive her.”

  Astounded by his brazen account of the situation— she’d met a lot of rogues in her time but Jake took the prize!—Maggie blushed before she gasped.

  “You been kissing her, already?” one of the little boys asked, amazed, and more than a little impressed.

  “Sure have, and I’d like to do so again, too,” Jake admitted recklessly, tossing yet another grin in Maggie’s direction. “Soon as I finish introducing you-all, that is. Maggie, this freckled-face rodeoer is Rusty— named such ‘cause of all his red hair. He looks like his daddy. His younger brother here, the towheaded one who looks like his Mama, is Wyatt. As you may or may not have guessed, they are fraternal twins, and they are four and a half years old. Guys, shake hands with the lady.” Grinning as widely as their bad-boy uncle, the two boys promptly held out mud-drenched hands. “Well, maybe not,” Jake said hastily, cutting off the cordial greetings until further notice. “Leastwise, ‘til the two of you get washed up.”

  “Aw, do we have to?” Rusty complained, with a pout.

  “We was just gettin’ to the good part,” Wyatt added, looking as downtrodden by the denial. “You know, where the mud’s all squishy and just right.”

  “That’s when ol’ Nurse Ratchet came out, and made us stop,” Rusty confided in a voice barely above a stage whisper.

  “Tried to,” Wyatt corrected, determined to get the recitation of facts right. “We didn’t stop, least not ‘til she grabbed us by our ears. Then, of course, we had to stop,” he explained solemnly.

  “But can we go back to it?” Rusty asked Jake, wide-eyed, obviously hoping that their roughhousing and misbehaving was not over yet.

  His manner turning abruptly solemn and parental, Jake shook his head firmly. “No. I think you boys have had enough fun in the mud for one day. It’s time to get cleaned up. Though how we’re gonna do it, is a good question.” Jake smoothed his thick, sable brown mustache with the ends of his suntanned fingers as he studied his nephews, perplexed. “If I take you on back to the ranch house like this, Harry is going to have a fit. And you know, considering all the mud you’d be likely to track into the ranch house in that condition, I can’t say as I’d blame him.”

  “Harry Wholesome?” Maggie interjected, intrigued by the domestic drama despite herself. Whether he wanted to own up to it or not, Jake MacIntyre did have a serious, responsible side.

  “Yeah,” Jake replied. “You met him a few minutes ago.”

  Maggie blinked. “The ‘boss man’?”

  “Yep, that’s Harry Wholesome,” Jake affirmed.

  “And Harry does not like messes,” Rusty piped up.

  Wyatt nodded solemnly as he shook his head in obvious warning. “Nobody better track mud on his clean floors, let me tell you.”

  Maggie grinned.

  Jake was still s
tudying his two nephews, who were coated with grime from head to toe. Finally, he stopped stroking his mustache, dropped his hand to his side, and said, “Maybe the best thing to do is wash you off with the hose out back. Then let you go swimming in the pool. And then take you in the house, and put you in the shower.”

  “That ought do it,” Rusty said, echoing Maggie’s thoughts exactly.

  “Let’s go,” Wyatt hollered.

  Jake put up a staying hand, stopping them before they even got started. “Hold on a minute, fellas.” Jake looked at Maggie. Taking her by the arm, Jake drew her slightly aside. “Want to help?” he asked, fastening his eyes on hers.

  Maggie laughed, his invitation was so outrageous. After the way he’d treated her! “Why would I want to do you any favors?” she prodded, loathe to admit that despite everything she was tempted. His nephews were so cute. Their presence so lively and entertaining. This familiar energy and activity was exactly what had been missing from her life.

  “Because I’m clearly in over my head here?” Jake guessed.

  Maggie folded her arms in front of her stoically. “Try again,” she dared, letting him know with one raking glance he was not likely to win.

  “So I won’t have you—” Jake put his fist against lips and coughed “—arrested—” he coughed again “—for trespassing? Now wouldn’t that be a story for the Houston Chronicle,” he mused, his dark-lashed eyes brimming over with mischief once again. “Supermodel returns to Texas in search for rich hubby. Why, people would eat that up!”

  “I bet they would,” Maggie drawled. “That’s not, however, the kind of local news I intended on making.”

  Jake nodded solemnly. “Bet you figured on a big wedding announcement in the paper instead. A picture of you all gussied up in your wedding finery.”

  “Not just me. The man of my dreams would be in the paper, too. In the engagement photo.”

  Jake smiled at her smugly. “Sounds like you got it all worked out. I’d sure hate to have to put a monkey wrench in your plans, particularly since you’re such a famous person and all.”