12 Stocking Stuffers

by Beverly Barton

  Her own mouth went dry, and she reached for her mai tai. The cool, sweet-tangy mixture did little to extinguish the heat spreading through her.

  “Didn’t you once say you wanted a cowboy of your own, Teddy?” Brenda asked.

  Teddy was startled that Brenda remembered that crazy night nearly six months ago when they’d sat at this very table and spun fantasies about the men in the lounge—imagining who they could be beneath their Armani suits and executive image. At the time, Teddy had wanted a cowboy, because it bucked convention—or rather her parents’ stuffy standards.

  “We were just fooling around, and I think I had one too many mai tais.” Setting her drink back on the table, Teddy waved a hand in the air. “It was just a fantasy, Brenda.”

  Laura leaned toward Teddy, a meaningful glimmer in her eyes. “Well, honey, fantasy is about to become reality.”

  Suspicion twisted through Teddy as her two friends exchanged a covert look. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Hey, cowboy,” Brenda called out. “We’ve got a birthday girl over here who has a thing for cowboys. Do you think you could oblige her?”

  Teddy’s jaw dropped, and her face heated in mortification. Before she could recover from her shock, her fantasy man moved away from the bar and strolled lazily toward them.

  “I’ll certainly do my best,” he drawled in a deep, rich voice that carried across the room and snagged a good amount of attention. The women he passed looked on with envy and longing, not that her cowboy noticed. His gaze was trained on her, and the smile curving his mouth was pure, unadulterated sin.

  Closer and closer he came. Teddy’s heart tripled its beat, and a mixture of excitement and apprehension warred within her. “Are you nuts?” she whispered to Brenda.

  “Naw.” Brenda winked at Teddy. “Laura and I wanted to do something special for your birthday. He’s all yours, at least for the next twenty minutes.”

  Teddy blinked. “I don’t understand…”

  Laura gave her a jaunty grin. “It’s all very simple. Just enjoy yourself, and the fantasy.”

  Teddy wanted a better explanation than that, but there wasn’t time to ask. Her fantasy was standing beside her chair. Hesitantly, she glanced his way, and found herself eye level with a pair of sinewy thighs wrapped in soft leather chaps that molded to his lean hips and strong legs, and profiled what made him impressively male. She forced her gaze higher, taking in a body honed to masculine perfection—virile, sexy and scrumptious enough to send her pulse racing.

  It was a long climb up—she estimated his height well over six foot—but the trek was extremely enjoyable. By the time she reached her cowboy’s face and saw the warm, private smile flirting with the corners of his mouth, she felt breathless.

  And then she saw his eyes for the first time. They were a striking green, with gold flecks that mesmerized and seduced. He had ridiculously long, dark lashes, and she had the fleeting thought that his eyes alone could tempt a woman to shed her inhibitions, and anything else he might request.

  He touched his long fingers to the brim of his Stetson in a brief caress that had her thinking about those hands of his, and how they’d feel against her skin. It was a maddening, and totally inappropriate, thought, considering she didn’t know him at all, but if this was her fantasy, she intended to enjoy it to its fullest.

  “Care to dance, darlin’?” he asked, the perfect gentleman.

  She melted just a little, and speech suddenly became a difficult task. “I, uh…”

  Brenda lifted Teddy’s hand toward the cowboy and winked at him. “She’d love to dance, and anything else you might be inspired to do.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he murmured huskily.

  Uneasiness rippled down Teddy’s spine, putting her feminine senses on alert. What would be his pleasure? she wondered, feeling as though she was in the middle of a conspiracy.

  What were Brenda and Laura up to?

  A warm hand clasped hers, pulled her to her feet, and she found herself being led to the dance floor, which was currently vacant. That didn’t seem to bother her partner, who gave the deejay a brief nod. As if on cue, the young man put on a slow, country ballad and announced into his microphone, “This one is for you, Teddy.”

  If that dedication wasn’t perplexing enough, the soft, crooning voice drifting from the speakers totally bewildered her. In all the times she’d come to the Frisco Bay in the past two years, not once had she ever heard a country song. The deejay played rock and roll, and on occasion, a slow tune by a popular soft-rock artist. If you wanted country music, you went to the Silver Spur.

  The plot was getting thicker and thicker…

  Like a man accustomed to taking the lead, her cowboy smoothly pulled her against him, aligning their bodies intimately. One arm slipped around her lower back, keeping her from attempting to put any distance between them, and his other hand held hers loosely to the side. Very hesitantly, because she really had no choice, she lightly rested her free hand on his biceps…nice, strong, muscular biceps.

  She kept her gaze averted, focusing on the crowd of onlookers over his shoulder, while valiantly trying to distract her body’s response to the man who held her so provocatively.

  It was no use. Through the silk of her blouse and the cotton of his shirt, she experienced the crush of his hard chest against her soft breasts that had suddenly become achingly sensitive. And there was certainly no way she could dismiss the subtle pressure of his belly against hers, or the arousing friction of his leather chaps scraping against her thighs where the hem of her skirt ended. It was like being charged head to toe with an electrical shock.

  She’d danced with plenty of men through the years, but none had ever ignited such an instantaneous blaze of heat, or made her so aware of herself as a woman.

  It was thrilling, incredibly sexy and unnerving.

  As he moved her in a circle on the dance floor, she caught sight of her friends. Brenda grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, and Laura snapped a picture of her and the cowboy.

  Cringing at their enthusiasm, she cast a surreptitious glance at the man she was dancing with, only to find him staring at her, his eyes taking on a smoky moss hue. She felt the stroke of his thumb along her spine, the press of his large palm against the small of her back, and shivered. His warm breath fluttered a silky strand of hair near her cheek, and she caught an odd scent. She’d expected to inhale the strong odor of whiskey from his drink. Instead, she encountered the delectable fragrance of root beer, which made something curl deep within her. The man drank root beer, of all things! Briefly, she wondered if he tasted as sweet and warm as he smelled.

  Clearing her suddenly dry throat, she pushed the forbidden thoughts aside and forced herself to break the silence between them. “This is, um, incredibly awkward. My friends can be a bit wild, and I’m sure they put you on the spot.” She licked her bottom lip nervously. “Dancing with me really isn’t necessary.”

  He blinked lazily, a slow sweep of those gorgeous lashes. “Darlin’, I find it hard to refuse a woman’s fantasy, especially on her birthday.”

  She detected an underlying insinuation to his words, but wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that cryptic remark. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know, either. Deciding to make the best of the two minutes left to the song, she introduced herself. “I’m Teddy Spencer.”

  There was a bit of mischief in his eyes, as if he knew a secret and she didn’t. “Austin McBride,” he offered. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Teddy.”

  There was that word again, pleasure. This time, though, the way he rolled it together so seductively with her name caused a flurry of sensations to erupt within her. It tickled her belly and spread out toward her thighs and breasts. Her reaction was crazy, confusing and exhilarating in a very unladylike way.

  You’re shameless, Teddy, her good-girl consciousness taunted. The wicked, bad-girl part of her was beginning not to care.

  She gave him an upswept look, along with a flirtat
ious smile she hadn’t used in what seemed like years. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, though reserved on his part, and it made her feel daring, and a little reckless.

  She slid her hand up his arm, until her fingers touched the soft strands of hair lying against the collar of his shirt. She had the sudden urge to take off that Stetson of his so she could see his face. But knowing how inappropriate that would be, she held herself back.

  “So, Mr. McBride,” she said, surprising herself with the throaty quality of her voice. “Are you really a cowboy?”

  “As real as it gets in San Francisco, I suppose.” He followed that up with a private, playful wink.

  She lifted an eyebrow, intent on finding out more about this mysterious man. “I take it you’re not from around here, then?”

  He expertly moved her to the slow beat of the music, dancing with her as if they were the only two in the bar. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  She regarded him with a combination of curiosity and speculation. “I wasn’t aware of any ranches in the area.”

  The corner of his generous mouth quirked, but he didn’t comment. “So, it’s your birthday, hmm?” he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

  She rolled her eyes. “Trussed up like I am with this silly pennant, it’s kind of difficult not to know it’s my birthday.”

  He smiled, his eyes shimmering with warmth and a scampish spark. “Well, your friends got you a very special present.”

  At that moment the song they were swaying to ended, and before she could take in what he’d said, or politely excuse herself from his wonderfully solid body, he maneuvered her four large steps back, until the curve of her knees hit a lounge chair someone had put out on the dance floor. Wide-eyed, she tumbled into the cushioned seat. Startled on more levels than one, she frantically sought out her two friends.

  She found them, but quickly realized neither one would be any source of help. Both Brenda and Laura wore goofy grins. Laura lifted her camera, and a bright flash momentarily blinded Teddy, but she had no problem hearing Brenda yell, “Take if off for her, cowboy!”

  A flush of mortification burned Teddy’s cheeks as she realized she’d been set up. New music blared out of the speakers, an upbeat, rock-a-billy tune that encouraged her cowboy to move his hips in such a provocative fashion, it took her breath away.

  Belatedly, she realized his intent and attempted to escape while there was still a chance. “I really don’t think—”

  He leaned forward and braced his arms on either side of her chair, crowding her between hunter-green tweed and an unyielding wall of masculinity. “No, don’t think at all,” he agreed in a teasing drawl. “Just sit back, relax and enjoy your fantasy, darlin’.” Lifting his hand, he withdrew the beige Stetson from his head and settled it lightly on the crown of hers. “And here’s a little something to remember me by.”

  Oh, God. Backdropped by thick, luxurious, dark brown hair, his eyes seemed greener, sexier, if that were even possible. But her muddled mind only had a handful of seconds to register that fact before he straightened, ending her hypnotic state of fascination.

  Then he stepped back, and while his hips moved rhythmically to the beat of the music, he grasped the sides of his western shirt and ripped open the pearl snaps securing the front. Teddy gasped, and the women in the Frisco Bay went wild—of which Brenda and Laura were the loudest and most unrestrained in their cheering. The men in the establishment looked on with idle amusement.

  Despite a fond wish to be anywhere but sitting in the middle of the dance floor with a gorgeous man stripping for her, she found herself totally mesmerized by Austin McBride. Fascinated by his eat-’em-up eyes. Stunned by his breathtaking smile. Enthralled by his incredible body.

  It had been a long time since a man had captured her interest so thoroughly.

  With a wicked grin, he turned around and slowly shrugged out of his shirt, letting the cotton fabric slide down his arms to reveal a smooth, powerful-looking back that sloped to a trim waist. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her cowboy that she could tell—even that nice, cute butt of his was all firm muscle as he gave it an enticing wriggle that had the women screaming for more.

  Yanking the shirt from the waistband of his faded jeans, he tossed the garment over his shoulder, and it landed right in the middle of her lap. The material was warm against her stocking-clad thighs, and smelled earthy and male. She had little time to register that before he tugged on the sides of his chaps and the Velcro holding them on gave way. Those, too, came sailing her way, the soft leather draping across her legs like a lover’s caress.

  Though the low-slung jeans he wore had a well-worn look about them, they were snug enough to mold to his narrow hips and the long, muscular length of his thighs and legs. The soft-looking material was creased and faded in all the right places, and even a little threadbare in the most intriguing spots, she noticed, as he slowly, sensuously, rolled his hips to the tempo of the music.

  His long fingers settled on the heavy belt buckle cinching his waist, and Teddy’s stomach bottomed out. But she couldn’t look away. With a lazy flick of his wrist, the leather strap slipped from the buckle, the movement slow and somehow erotic. Leaving the belt on and hanging open, he moved close enough for her to reach out and touch the tight muscles rippling along his belly. The dare in his eyes was unmistakable—he expected her to take off his belt!

  Someone in the crowd let out a shrill, wolf whistle, followed up with, “Go for it!”

  Austin grinned, obviously used to such enthusiastic displays. “You heard the lady,” he drawled encouragingly. “Go for it.”

  And so Teddy did. Grasping the metal buckle, she gave it a tentative tug. Austin gyrated his hips at the same moment, and the belt slid from the loopholes on his jeans and into her hands. The strip of leather was warm and supple against her palm, inciting naughty thoughts that shocked even herself. She groaned at her runaway imagination, grateful that no one could hear her over the noise in the bar. The music pulsated, the beat seemingly as raw and primitive as the man before her.

  She expected him to strip off his jeans like most male exotic dancers did, but he made no attempt to remove that last barrier of clothing. Instead, he danced for her wearing nothing but his formfitting jeans and a sinfully wicked smile. But, oh, this provocative teasing was so much more arousing than watching him strip down to a skimpy G-string, which would have spoiled the illusion he’d created. This teasing glimpse gave her enough to stir her imagination and incite future cowboy fantasies.

  It was apparent Austin McBride knew exactly how to stimulate a woman’s senses, and he used that knowledge to his advantage. He rocked his honed body to the beat of the music, giving her time to take in his bare chest, dusted with a light sprinkling of dark brown hair. Unable to help herself, she followed that trail down to where it whorled around his navel, then disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. And when he turned, giving her a view of his backside, the muscles across his shoulders bunched, and his tight bottom and sinewy thighs flexed with the easy, rhythmic movement of his body.

  He was truly a work of art.

  She licked her dry lips, suddenly feeling as though someone in the establishment had kicked up the temperature ten degrees. Her face was warm—hell, her entire body was prickly with fever—and her breathing was deep and labored.

  When her gaze lifted back to his face, his eyes were filled with a combination of sultry heat, immense charm and forbidden enticement. It was all a well-orchestrated act. She knew that, so why did she experience such an inexplicable connection between them, one that went beyond immediate sexual attraction to something deeper and mystifying in that man-woman way?

  Not soon enough to suit her embarrassment, the music ended and her fantasy was over. She glanced over at Brenda and Laura and narrowed her gaze. Brenda grinned outrageously and blew at the tip of her finger as if it were the smoking end of a gun—too hot was her unmistakable message—and Laura waggled her fingers at Teddy impishly. />
  No doubt about it, Teddy was going to kill her two best friends.

  AUSTIN MCBRIDE INWARDLY cringed as the Frisco Bay broke into a roar of raucous cheers, whistles and applause, and tried not to let his growing discomfort show. It was an odd sensation to find himself uncomfortable in what should have been a very familiar, and routine, situation.

  However, three months ago, at the age of thirty, while standing center stage wearing nothing more than a tight pair of pants with a roomful of women going crazy with lust, Austin had come to the conclusion that he was getting too old, and certainly less assertive and brazen, to be taking his clothes off in public. As owner and founder of Fantasy for Hire, he’d made the decision to retire his outrageous costumes, and let his younger and more energetic employees handle the exotic, and sometimes outrageous, fantasies women requested.

  Tonight had been the exception. Taking off his clothes had been a necessity, not a choice. Don, one of his most requested strippers, had called Austin on his cell phone to tell him that someone had sideswiped his car, and although he was physically okay, he wouldn’t be able to make his seven o’clock appointment at the Frisco Bay. That gave Austin a little over an hour to scramble to find someone to fill in. The two guys he managed to get hold of didn’t have the requested cowboy costume on hand—but Austin did. Deciding it would be simpler to take care of the engagement himself since time was so limited, he’d donned his western attire, all the while swearing this would be the very last time he fulfilled a woman’s fantasy outside of a bedroom.

  Tonight’s incident only served to shore up his decision to put Fantasy for Hire on the market for a new owner. In the past six years his shoot-from-the-hip venture had increased beyond his wildest expectations, expanding from two part-time employees to nearly a dozen young men who were willing to fulfill a woman’s twenty-minute fantasy for ample compensation.