Cowboys Last All Night

by Jennifer Ashley

  “See? Still not jumping your bones.” She smiled triumphantly and turned away.

  Her cheek against his skin had made every nerve stand on end, even though he knew she was teasing him. He reached out, spun her around and pulled her into a kiss.

  A real kiss. The kind of kiss he’d been aching to steal since the night she moved in. Sunshine went rigid in his arms, but just when he thought he’d made a big mistake, she sighed and leaned into him. Cole’s entire body went on alert. He couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed Sunshine the way God meant for men to kiss women.

  When he came up for air some time later, Sunshine was breathing heavily. And shaking her head.

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” He was ready to do it again.

  “Because we’re enemies.”

  “We don’t have to be.” He was holding onto her, his palms cupping her elbows. He slid his hands up her arms and drew her even closer. “I can think of better things for us to be.”

  “Like what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Like the kind of people who sleep together.”

  She stiffened again. Pushed him away. “I don’t think so.”

  He came after her. “Come on, Sunshine. You want it as much as I do.”

  She shook her head. All the warmth had gone from her and Cole knew the chasm between them was as wide as it had ever been.

  “Damn it, why can’t we? We’re two consenting adults. We can be friends.”

  Sunshine threw her hands up in the air. “Friends?” She turned on her heel. “I’m going to bed.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s go to bed. As buddies. Good buddies. We could be—”

  She slammed the bathroom door and locked it.

  “Partners.” Cole trailed off. Damn it, that’s what he should have led with. Partners. Why not? Why couldn’t they share the building? The apartment, too.

  A smile curved his mouth at that thought, but then he sobered again, realizing he’d blown it. Sunshine didn’t want a fuck buddy. She didn’t want a joint venture, either. She’d had her heart ripped out and handed to her by her last business partner. She wouldn’t want to take that chance again.

  It was either go all in or pull back and remain completely separate.

  His head told him that keeping to himself was the smarter play—the business-like play.

  But his heart hinted to him in the most unsettling way that throwing all in with Sunshine might be the best strategy he’d ever undertaken.

  Chapter Thirteen

  So he wanted to sleep with her. Big surprise. That’s what men did, right—sleep with every woman they could get their hands on? She remembered what Cab had said earlier, that she and Cole should work together. That was a non-starter; not when he was exactly like Greg. He’d use her as long as she had something to give him and dump her when he’d taken control of the building. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  The trouble was, Sunshine was attracted to Cole. What was wrong with her? Did she only fall for players?

  She got ready for bed and when she exited the bathroom, her heart thumping in her chest, Cole was nowhere in sight. His bedroom door was shut, so she climbed into her makeshift bed on the couch and tried to fall asleep. After all, she had another busy day tomorrow. Hopefully she’d actually have some customers.

  When she got up the following morning she felt like she’d been hit by a truck sometime in the intervening hours. It had taken her a long time to fall to sleep. Whenever she’d closed her eyes, Cole’s face had come to mind. His body, too. Try as she might to think of something else, the idea of sex with him kept insinuating itself into her thoughts.

  Sex with Cole might be a heck of a lot of fun. He had a body it would be a pleasure to run her hands over. A mouth she already knew was a pleasure to kiss. She was sure that other interesting parts of Cole would be just as pleasurable to get to know. The ache of desire had kept her tossing and turning far too late into the night.

  She hoped to get out of the apartment before he even woke up that morning, but when she cracked open the bathroom door after her shower and raced to the living room to retrieve the bra she’d forgotten to bring in with her, she was only halfway there when Cole walked out of the kitchen in his boxer briefs.

  “Morning,” he grunted, taking his time to look her up and down.

  Sunshine grabbed the bra, whirled around and bolted for the bathroom. With the door shut behind her once more, she wanted to cry. This was impossible. All of it. What had Cecily been thinking?

  As much as she loved her aunt, she found it hard to feel anything but anger toward her now. Did she really need this on top of everything that had gone before? Couldn’t she have a short period of peace and ease before life handed her another set of problems?

  No, she decided as she finished dressing and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. You are not destined for an easy life. It’s your lot to work and work and have men do their best to destroy you. So don’t mix love and business, for heaven’s sake. That way when the next man bails on you, at least you’ll have a roof over your head.

  By the time Cole walked in the door, Sunshine was all set to open for the day. He had to hand it to her. The café looked cozy and inviting—an eclectic space that seemed to promise interesting food. The whole place was neat as a pin, the counter and tabletops gleaming. But thirty minutes later, not a single customer had come in to eat.

  Not a single customer had come to the range, either.

  Cole checked his watch. Strange. Usually someone had popped around by now. He decided to update his books but that didn’t take too long and was far too depressing to spend much time on. The truth was he didn’t make much of an income with the rifle range. His accounts made that all too clear. Maybe Sunshine was right; maybe he did need to branch out and start something online. But when he went online to check gun videos out, he quickly realized there were far too many of them available already.

  “Slow day, huh?”

  He nearly jumped when Sunshine spoke. She’d been so quiet since he arrived he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

  “You could say that.”

  “I need a real sign for the door, but I’m not sure it’s worth the money if no one’s going to come anyway.” She leaned on her counter, her head turned his way. He leaned on his own counter.

  “You got to have some patience.”

  “I know.” She spread her hands wide. “But what if it doesn’t work? What if I lose? I don’t know what I’ll do next. Go work for some other asshole, I guess.”

  He hated to hear her sound so discouraged. “What would you do if you could do anything in the whole world?”

  “Anything?” She thought this over. “Forget it. You’ll think it’s dumb.”

  “Try me.”

  “I’d like to travel all over the world and see how other people cook. Not just at fancy restaurants, either, but how indigenous people cook, you know? Because I figure there has to be something to learn. If people with few resources and limited access to things like grocery stores and so on can make dishes that taste amazing, then we should be able to learn from that. I have this theory—” She broke off. “You don’t want to hear all this.”

  “I do.” He gestured to the empty room. “Even if I didn’t, what else am I going to do until customers show up?” He was grateful that she was talking to him at all after last night. He’d really screwed up when he’d offered to jump in the sack with her. Now she thought he was just another guy trying to get one over on her.

  Sunshine hesitated.

  “I really do want to know,” he assured her. “It sounds like you’re on to something there.” She’d certainly hit on a passion of his: travel. Not that he’d ever had much opportunity to do so, except in the military.

  “I have this theory about simplicity. About how fancy dishes are great, but that a true chef can take a few simple ingredients and create something delicious from t
hem. Know what I mean? And I think that studying indigenous food is the way to learn that.”

  “You could do one of those fancy cookbooks, too. Those travel cookbooks with lots of photographs.” He’d seen them in bookstores and been interested, more for the photographs of far off places than for the recipes.

  She made a face. “I’m a lousy photographer.”

  “You could take me along.” He snapped his mouth shut. Why on earth had he said that?

  But Sunshine seemed intrigued. “You do food photography, too? That landscape of yours is amazing.”

  She’d noticed it, huh? Cole felt exposed. “I’ve never photographed food, but I enjoy a challenge.”

  “Can I see some of your work?”

  She moved around the counter and came to stand near him, as if he had a portfolio with him. Which actually, he did. In the apartment.

  Now it was his turn to demur. “They’re nothing special.”

  “Come on, go get a few photographs and bring them back. I’ll hold down the fort until you do.” She cast a sardonic glance around the empty room.

  He allowed himself to be bullied into fetching the photographs. He hadn’t shown them to many people. He kept telling himself he was waiting for the perfect time before he tried to exhibit them anywhere. Besides, they weren’t good enough for that. He was still learning.

  When he returned, he paused just outside the front door, portfolio in hand, filled with misgivings. Of all the people to show his work to, his rival in the race to win this building certainly wasn’t the smartest pick.

  But when Sunshine spotted him through the glass door, she visibly brightened, which tugged him right through it before he could make up his mind to turn around. She beckoned him over to her larger counter and pushed things aside to make space. Taking the portfolio right out of his hands, she unzipped it and spread it wide, gasping in pleasure at the first photograph. It was a landscape of a ranch whose pastures spread out far and wide to the mountain range in the far distance. The warm tones of the close grasses contrasted sharply with the cool, far mountains. A stormy sky increased the drama of the photograph.

  “Everyone takes pictures like these,” he said, uncomfortable under her scrutiny of his work.

  “It’s so beautiful. Is it local?”

  “That’s right. It’s a spread south of town. I could take you there sometime.”

  “I’ve only ever been in the town so far. It didn’t occur to me it looked like this on the ranches.”

  “The local ranches have some of the best scenery I ever laid eyes on.”

  She turned to a new photograph. This one was of a stray dog that used to hang around the range until one of his customers took pity on it and gave it a home. In the photo the dog had the kind of downtrodden yet hopeful look that only an animal can pull off. Sunshine’s expression melted in a way that told him he’d nailed that shot. The next was a photo of the apartments he owned, with old William leaning against one of the buildings, obviously killing time with nowhere to go. She bent over this one. “You’ve managed to make the buildings beautiful. It makes me think that even though they’re plain and ordinary, they’re important, because of the people they shelter.”

  “That’s just how I feel about them.”

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “I own them,” he found himself admitting. “Before you get all excited, let me say that they don’t make me a dime. Not right now, anyway.”

  “Why do you keep them?”

  “Because of William there. Because of Tracey, our waitress at the diner the other night, and Scott Preston, a veteran buddy of mine. If I sold them, they’d lose their homes.”

  Sunshine nodded slowly and turned the page, but he had a feeling she was thinking over what he’d said. She kept leafing through his photos and he found that watching her face was a clear way to determine his prowess with his camera. By the end of her perusal he felt more confident in his abilities than he ever had before.

  “There aren’t any shots of food, though,” she teased him.

  “We can fix that. Put together a plate. I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned a few minutes later, Sunshine had ladled out a bowl of her chili and tucked a slice of cornbread on the plate beside it.

  “That’s a good start,” he said, checking the image on his camera. “But the counter doesn’t make it stand out much.”

  Sunshine thought a minute. “How about this?” She brought out a bright yellow tablecloth, draped it over the counter and set the dishes on top of it.

  Cole looked again. “That makes the chili pop, but the bread disappears.”

  “What color should I use then?”

  Cole shrugged. He’d never studied this kind of thing formally. He simply went on instinct.

  “We’ll just have to try until we find something then.”

  Over the next five minutes, Sunshine dug out everything she could find that might make a suitable backdrop. In the end a dark green cloth made both the chili and the cornbread shine.

  “Got any Parmesan cheese?”

  “Soy Parmesan.” She went and grabbed some.

  Cole read the label, shook his head, but decided it would do. He shook the canister a couple of times, dotting the surface of the chili with the fake cheese in an artful half-moon shape. “Got to give the image some motion—something to draw the eye.”

  He took a few shots. Tried a different angle, then took some more. When he was done, he let Sunshine look through them.

  “Wow—these look great. Can you send them to me so I can use them on my website?”

  “Sure thing.” He frowned. Wait—now he was helping her again.

  She must have had the same thought. “Why don’t we go take photos of the range, too? You can add them to the website I made for you.”

  He supposed that was something.

  Sunshine tidied away the food and followed him into the range, since they still had no customers. Cole spent several minutes taking shots from various directions, but it was clear almost from the first that the photos would be duds.

  “What’s wrong?” Sunshine asked when he stopped taking pictures.

  “The light’s awful in here and there’s nothing to make it interesting. I need people. Action.”

  “You could photograph me.”

  “Holding a firearm?”

  She blinked, but then nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  “It won’t be loaded,” he assured her.

  “Pity.” But she flashed him a smile. Sunshine obviously was enjoying this creative activity. He was enjoying it too, mostly because of the company. His photography had always been a solitary experience before now.

  “Now if you were wearing a bikini, we’d really pack them in.” He gathered up three types of firearms, a pistol, a shotgun and an AK-47.

  “Really?” She laughed.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Huh.” Sunshine thought a minute. “Hang on!” She ran for the door.

  While he waited, Cole worked to set up the shot. He didn’t believe for a minute she’d return in a bikini, but he hoped she’d find something a little bit sexy. He moved things around to have less clutter in the frame and found an extra lamp in the storage room to brighten up the area. By the time Sunshine got back he was ready for her.

  But he wasn’t ready for the outfit she had on.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sunshine bit her lip. Had she gone too far? She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to slip into the slinkiest outfit she could put together—a barely there skirt she used to wear out dancing and a plunging halter top she normally wore as a cover-up at the beach. She had no idea if she was playing along with his sick male fantasy of a hot girl with a big gun—or if she simply wanted to grab hold of Cole’s attention and make sure he knew exactly what she had to offer.

  At some point this morning things had shifted and she’d gone from thinking of him as her enemy, to feeling like he could be a good friend. Maybe it was that t
hey were both in the same position—competing for a chance to continue with their dream.

  Or maybe it was that he was the handsomest cowboy she’d ever met, and her body wanted to get closer to his.

  She wanted him to look at her, she decided. It was as simple as that.

  She wanted him to want her.

  A dangerous look came into Cole’s eyes when she walked in. He put down the camera and crossed the room to her.

  Sunshine took a step back.

  “Don’t even think of running away.” He took her hand. “Hell, woman. You’re lethal in that outfit.”

  His back-country compliment warmed her all over. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m definitely not just saying that.” He hesitated long enough that she thought he might pull her in and kiss her again the way he had before, but after a moment he let her go. Was that regret she saw in his eyes?

  “I’ll show you. Come here.” He led her to the shooting range, sat her on the edge of the one of counters that demarked a gallery, and handed her an unloaded AK-47. “Smile for the camera.”

  Sunshine did. Her naughtiest, come-hither-est smile.

  “That’s it,” Cole said. “Come on, baby, sell it.”

  Sunshine burst out laughing. “Sorry. Sorry! It’s just too silly.”

  “Nothing silly about sex and guns, baby. Try it again.” For several minutes he bossed her around, but she couldn’t stop giggling. “Let’s take a break,” Cole said. “Need a glass of water?”

  “Yes, please.” While he was gone she pulled herself together, knowing that most of her laughter was just nerves. No man had ever looked at her the way Cole was looking at her—both as a man and as an artist. Submitting herself to his orders felt more intimate than just about anything else they could do.

  When he returned with her drink, his fingers touched hers when he handed it to her. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I think I’m ready now.”

  “Good.” His gaze was bright and shining with mischief. “Let’s try again.”