She sighed again, deeper this time. “I might as well. The plan is in shambles, anyway, thanks to you.”
“Oh?” He kept his tone level, his caress light, but his body went on alert at the word plan. “And what was your plan, sweetheart?”
“To find a husband.”
He went totally still. “Is that right?”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t after you.”
He wanted to hit something and curse a blue streak. “You were after Jose,” he said, his throat tight He wondered how far things had gone between the two of them. He’d hate to have to fire the wrangler, but he’d do it
“Not specifically Jose. And especially not after I found out how much he wants children.”
Tom’s head began to spin. “I don’t get it.”
“You’re not going to like it, either, but please try to understand. You saw firsthand how shooting a calendar picture affects me. I...need somebody I can depend on, somebody to...work that out of my system so I don’t end up seducing one of my subjects someday.”
“Seems like you could hire that done,” he said with more than a trace of bitterness.
“I was afraid you’d have that reaction. But it’s more than sex, really. I need a friend, somebody in my corner, a person to be with during the lonely downtimes of the business. I’m looking for someone who doesn’t think in rigid terms about what marriage is, someone who would consider a commuter marriage. We wouldn’t even have to live together, just meet every couple of weeks.”
“And get it on.” Her concept of marriage horrified him, but damned if her idea wasn’t also the most provocative one he’d ever come across.
“Well, I hope we’ll also enjoy each other’s company, but basically, I guess that’s the bottom line.”
“That isn’t marriage. That’s sex.”
“I disagree. There would be love, and mutual respect, and commitment. I realize it’s a little unusual, but that’s what I need, and that’s what I wanted to work toward on this trip. And then I met you.”
“I still don’t get it” He was beginning to understand, though. He just wanted her to lay it out for him so there could be no misunderstandings later.
“You told me right away you weren’t interested in marriage,” she said. “And even if you were, I can’t imagine you agreeing to that arrangement.”
“That’s for damn sure. A guy would have to be a wimp to go for that deal. Like a puppy on a string.”
She pushed his hand away from her breast. “Or a more flexible one than you are.”
He snorted. “Like a pretzel, more likely.”
“You can make fun of my idea all you want. Your opinion doesn’t really matter. In fact, you have nothing to do with my plan, except...”
“Except what?”
“Except that I don’t feel right looking for a husband when you and I have shared...certain moments.”
“I see.” Her standards were offbeat, but at least she had some, he thought. “Maybe I wasn’t so dumb to climb in that hot tub, after all, if I’ve kept you from making a damn parlor pet out of one of our fine Montana boys.”
“I don’t know why I’m attracted to you, to be honest. You’re way too macho for my tastes. If I was smart, I’d stay completely away from you.”
“You said intelligence has nothing to do with it.”
“I guess not. The minute you touch me, I don’t have a brain cell working.”
He pulled her close again. “The rest of you sure hums right along, though.”
“Yes, it certainly does.” She sighed and snuggled back against him.
Oh, God, he was in trouble. He was already imagining himself in her cabin this afternoon, making love in her king-size bed. Yet if he did that, he’d be dancing to her tune, providing a temporary physical release. He was worth more than that, and so was she. He just had to figure out a way to make her see how insulting her plan was to both of them.
She’d never be happy with a lapdog for a husband. She wasn’t a halfway kind of person, no matter what she attempted. He’d seen that on the cattle drive and again when she did what she had to do for Dynamite just now. She needed somebody as strong as she was, someone who expected her to give herself completely to the relationship. Someone like...him. Not that he was interested in a career woman from New York who didn’t want kids.
The hell he wasn’t She might be from New York, but Montana fit her personality like a glove. He would fit her like a glove. And as for kids, she’d love those, too. She just didn’t know it yet.
“So I was wondering,” she said, her voice low and sultry, “if you have some free time this afternoon?”
“I might” Even knowing he planned to throw a monkey wrench into her plans, he still felt his blood heat at the temptation she held out “Don’t you have some pictures to take or something?”
“I had an appointment, but my car gave out last night, and I don’t know if it’s fixed yet.”
“What if it is?”
“I could pretend it wasn’t”
She’d alter her schedule for him, he realized. That was telling, in itself. “How many more cowboys do you have to round up for this project?”
“I have eight so far.”
“Then you need four more.” An idea was forming, and he let it simmer for a while.
“I guess that’s all I need now. I’d planned to find thirteen, so if one of them worked out as a husband, I could eliminate him from the calendar and still have twelve.”
He blew out a breath. She’d apparently thought it would be that simple. She’d spent so much time behind a camera that she had no idea how the world worked. “And you really expected to get away with that?”
“Apparently I won’t. Not on this trip, at any rate.”
“I think having thirteen possibilities for your calendar is a good idea, anyway, in case somebody doesn’t work out.”
“Oh, they’ll all work out. I screen my subjects pretty carefully, and the contract’s binding.”
“What if a subject didn’t want to sign a contract?” he asked carefully.
“Then we wouldn’t have a deal.”
“Care to make an exception with me?”
She stiffened in his arms. “Are you saying you’ll pose for me, after all?”
“I will, if I don’t have to sign a contract until after I’ve seen the pictures and I can make my decision then.”
All snuggling ended as she sat forward. “If there’s a chance I can use you as a cover shot, that cancels out...anything between us.”
“I guess that’s your choice.” He had no idea which way she’d go, but either way, he planned to show her that making love wasn’t the simple bodily function she imagined. It wasn’t a game, and it wasn’t a career aid. It was the essence of life itself.
OFFERING TO POSE for the cover was the very last thing Cleo had expected of him. She recovered slowly from the shock as they neared the ranch. The choice was a nobrainer, really. A few times in bed with him, a casual affair that would end once she left Montana, versus a cover photo for her calendar that could guarantee her reputation, an image that would guarantee that the calendar she presented to Sphinx Cosmetics would be the best in her career.
He might deny her the use of the photos, of course, but she doubted it No subject had ever been unhappy with the way he looked in one of her calendars. She had an eye for the shot that maximized a man’s sexual charisma, and they loved seeing that quality reflected back to them. Even Tom, who only used a mirror to shave, would love it
Looking at the question from Tom’s angle, there was no doubt which way to go, either. The calendar could only help his financial situation. He might turn down the modeling contracts and the film deals, but business at the Whispering Winds would increase, especially with Jeeter and Jose in the calendar. Single women would flock to the ranch, and Tom would be able to raise his prices.
The fact that Tom himself would be mobbed with eligible women bothered her a little, but she couldn’t allow he
rself to care about that. She and Tom had no future, and to begrudge him happiness in the arms of another woman was selfish and unfair. Her jaw might clench and plans for murder might run through her mind at the thought of him making love to someone else, but eventually she’d get over it. She’d have to.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll take the shots and have them developed without a contract. When do you want to schedule a session?”
“Name your time.”
“Let me think about it. I have to decide what setting and what kind of light I want to use.”
“Just let me know.”
She should be jubilant after gaining the prize she’d sought from the moment she’d walked out of the jetway and spied him waiting for her in the terminal. Instead, she wanted to cry. He’d be in front of her camera soon, but she wouldn’t be able to feel his warm lips on hers, or his strong arms holding her tight, or his gentle touch ever again. It was more of a sacrifice than she’d counted on.
TIME WAS RUNNING OUT, and Cleo still hadn’t figured out where to shoot Tom. Hoping inspiration would strike while she worked, she scheduled sessions with three of the four remaining cowboys. She took Eddie down to the Gallatin River and posed him standing in the water, jeans soaked and molding his lean hips. She got wet herself for that one, and welcomed the cold water on her heated body. Images of making love to Tom kept superimposing themselves over Eddie, but that only seemed to increase the electricity and bring out the best in the dark-haired cowboy, who had no idea she was imagining he was someone else.
She posed Ty in a cowboy bar and had him drink a little of the beer she used for a prop so he’d loosen up. He loosened up beautifully, giving her some great shots and another bad case of sexual frustration. If only Tom hadn’t agreed to the cover shot, he could be easing that ache for her, but the cover would make the anguish all worthwhile, she told herself.
With Andy, she insisted he take off his shirt and lie in a field of wildflowers. He’d hated the idea at first, but as usual, Cleo played with his mind until he gazed up at her with exactly the degree of sensuality she wanted from him. When she returned from that shoot, she flung off her clothes and took the coldest shower in history.
That evening she took stock of the eleven poses she’d used so far and realized she still wasn’t sure how to pose Tom. When she’d arrived, she’d visualized him leaning against a fence, but that seemed too common now, too much like some of her other portraits for the calendar. The pressure of taking the best photo of her career had cramped her mind, no doubt, but she had to uncramp it, and fast. She had exactly two days left. Two more days of Montana. She tried not to think about that. She could come back to Montana, of course, but not to this ranch. Never again to this ranch.
After a restless night that caused her to oversleep the next morning, she bummed some more carrots from Juanita and headed to the corral to see Dynamite. She’d agreed to shoot Juanita’s kids on her last afternoon at the ranch, a relaxing windup to the schedule. She’d have a session with her final cowboy, Jake, in the morning and Juanita’s kids in the afternoon. The next morning she’d leave for New York.
That left today and tonight for Tom’s cover shot. Leaning against the corral fence, she scratched behind Dynamite’s ears and wished for inspiration.
“Seems to me we’re running out of time to get that picture taken.”
She glanced up as Tom walked toward her. She hadn’t seen him, except from a distance or in her dreams, since the day of the barbed-wire incident. The longing to hold him was so intense that she couldn’t speak. Her body hungered for his in a way that made her wonder if she was coming down with something. She felt flushed and dizzy just looking at him.
“I’ve been waiting for you to let me know,” he said softly, leaning an arm against the corral and standing very close to her. “Did you find a better prospect for that cover and decide to pass up my offer?”
“No.” She sounded hoarse and nervous. “I just haven’t been able to figure out the setting I want to use.”
“You should have asked me for suggestions.”
She hadn’t thought of that. Usually she was reluctant to take ideas from her subjects because they seldom understood the requirements for the shots and then she was in the position of having to reject their suggestion. But she was so totally dry in this case that she decided to risk it with Tom.
“Okay,” she said, looking at him from under the brim of her hat—his hat day after tomorrow. “What do you have in mind?”
“My bedroom.”
She backed up a step, her pulse racing. “For the photo session, or for...something else?”
“For the photo session. You’ve made it clear what your rules are. Juanita has quite a collection of your calendars, and I’ve been studying them. If your aim is the sexual side of the men, why not show one of them in bed?”
“I’ve always concentrated on the work environment.” And in Montana, that meant using the great outdoors, for the most part. “Besides, the light might not be any good in...there.” She couldn’t bring herself to say your bedroom, certain the words would come out sounding the way she felt—jumpy.
“Why not take a look yourself? The windows face south, so the light doesn’t come directly in this time of year, but there’s plenty of it.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
He shook his head. “That was it. The bed frame’s made of lodgepole pine, and I have a Pendleton blanket, and I just thought maybe—”
“A Pendleton blanket?” She was already getting some ideas. The richly patterned blanket would be wonderful to design the shot with, even in black and white. And a massive bed like the one he was describing would add just the right masculine touch. Obvious as his suggestion was, it might be exactly what she needed. Tom McBride posed on a bed. The calendars would jump off the shelves.
He watched her, his gray eyes amused. “Want to go take a look?”
She considered the temptations involved. But it was the middle of the morning, for heaven’s sake, and it wasn’t as if they’d be alone in the house. Luann and Juanita would be around somewhere. “Okay, I’ll take a look.”
“How’ve the other sessions been coming along?” he asked as they walked side by side across the ranch yard.
“Just fine. I have one more scheduled tomorrow morning and Juanita’s kids in the afternoon.”
“Then I guess we need to get this accomplished today.”
“I knew that, but without a solid idea about where to do the shoot, I hated to set something up with you. I didn’t want to waste your time.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He smiled. “Out here we don’t have the same fixation on time that you do back East.”
“My father taught me early that time is money.”
“Hmm.”
“I take it you don’t agree with that.”
“Let’s just say I grew up with a different concept. My folks used to tell us that no matter where we were going, the most important thing to take was our time.”
Cleo thought about that as they walked up on the porch and Tom opened the wide front door for her. Some of her best memories of Montana were the ones in which time hadn’t been a factor. The cattle drive, for example, and taking the picture of the moose. Even her own solitary ride, though it had ended so dramatically, had been free of time restraints.
And, to be totally honest with herself, the moments with Tom in the warm mineral water had completely transcended time. She wouldn’t have been able to say whether they’d spent an hour together or five minutes. She only knew that the experience would be part of her memories forever.
No one was in the large living room as they walked through and headed for the polished wooden staircase leading to the second floor. A little more activity would have made Cleo feel better about this encounter, but she’d look like a scared rabbit if she backed out of going up those stairs with Tom.
“Did you slide down this banister when you were a kid?” she as
ked, running her hand along the smooth wood.
“Yep. Taught my sister how to do it, too. We thought nobody knew what we were up to, until Dad caught us one day and admitted he and my uncle used to slide down it all the time, and so had my grandfather. That’s why it’s like satin—all those little fannies sailing down from the second floor.”
Cleo laughed. “What a great tradition.”
“Yeah, it was.”
His use of the past tense told her that he thought the tradition was over, either because he wouldn’t have children or because he wasn’t sure he’d keep the ranch. He should do both, she thought. Yet in order to have children, he’d have to marry someone and father them. That idea didn’t sit so well with her.
After passing a sign that said Guests Prohibited Beyond This Point, she walked with him down a long hallway that seemed to carry them farther and farther from the center of the house. “Kind of secluded up here, aren’t you?”
“The guests have access to just about every other square foot of the Whispering Winds. This wing I keep for myself.”
So they were in a private wing of an already large house, she thought uneasily. “You know, maybe this isn’t such a good—”
“Here we are.” He opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped back.
Moving through the doorway, she caught her breath at the magnificence of the large room that spanned the entire south side of the house. She always noticed light first, and the sunshine coming through the bank of windows was an artist’s dream. The view itself was spectacular, but the light—she lusted after this sort of luminescent glow, knowing how it could infuse her shots with magic. As the light flowed into the room unfettered by window coverings, it gently picked out the details of furnishings that suited Tom perfectly.
The bed’s massive headboard and footboard dominated the room. The spread, a nubby white, was only a backdrop for a huge Pendleton blanket that might have been custom-made. Its brown and orange print was faded from years of sunlight streaming into the room. Cleo walked closer and smoothed a hand over the wool, worn soft as velvet Decorative pillows covered in a different Pendleton fabric were tossed against the headboard, along with fluffy bed pillows encased in snowy linen.
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