MisplacedCowboy

by Mari Carr

  He rubbed his face again and let out a shaky breath. “I get it now,” he said, returning his gaze to Monet’s face. “I get it. Why I feel so fucking bad when I should feel so alive.”

  Monet stood motionless. “Why?”

  “Because ever since I walked away from you, I’ve been pretending that somehow we’d actually work. That someday I’d magically wake up and not be a stockman anymore. I’d fly back to you in New York and we’d spend the rest of our lives together, laughing about the time I was the Down Under Wonder as I earn millions playing the stock market, or investing in who the fuck knows what. And now I know, standing here in front of you, unshaven, my clothes covered in dust, sweat already making me stink after spending two hours dealing with an aggressive bull who didn’t want to be loaded into a truck…I know I can’t pretend anymore. You’re New York, and I’m the Outback. That’s the way it is.”

  For a long moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. He could feel her stare on him through the darkness of her lenses, but as before, her glasses hid so much of her face he had no idea what she was thinking. And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take the silence anymore, she raised her hand and removed her sunglasses, and his heart smashed into his throat.

  Fuck. He was never meant to love someone so gorgeous. There was no way he’d ever survive it.

  “Hey, Dylan!” Hunter’s shout jerked his stare to his brother. “You two want a ride back to the house?”

  Dylan looked at the three people standing next to his ute. Annie was holding her father’s arm, the smile on her face telling Dylan whatever had passed between her and Joseph Prince had ended well. He was happy for her. He truly was. If only he could find his own happiness.

  He shook his head. “No. We’ll walk back.”

  There were things that needed to be said.

  Hunter gave him a nod, his expression uncertain.

  Dylan wanted to laugh. It seemed both Sullivan boys had lost their hearts to an American woman. Who would have thought it?

  Giving Mutt a sharp whistle, he watched his dog jump from the ute’s tray and streak across the airstrip, tongue-lolling doggy grin in place. He reached down, scratching the dog around his ears, Mutt’s liquid-brown eyes gazing up at him with absolute love. Dylan let out a soft snort. The unconditional love of a dog. If only that kind of love existed in the human world.

  “Dylan?”

  He straightened, his dimple flashing in his cheek. “You got a hat in that fancy jet?”

  She shook her head.

  “Here you go.” He removed his and placed it on her head. “You’ll fry like an egg if you don’t cover up.”

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “Not yet, please? Let’s just pretend for a minute we’re old mates, catching up. Besides, I wanna show you Farpoint first. Well, a small part of it at least. Let you see where I come from before you fly back.”

  She parted her lips as if to argue but shut them again, reaching up and adjusting his hat on her head.

  “Sorry it’s a bit sweaty.”

  She smiled, an unreadable expression in her gaze. “It’s perfect.”

  They began walking silently. Dylan knew why. He was a gutless wonder who didn’t want to finally admit that what he longed for with all his soul couldn’t be, regardless of Monet flying halfway around the world to see him. It didn’t matter how much they ached for each other, their lives were too damn different. They’d shared something amazing in New York, but the reality of life was insurmountable. Now the best he could do was show Monet where he belonged.

  It wasn’t until Mutt raced ahead a while later, barking in that special way that told Dylan he was ready for some fun, that Dylan realized where they’d walked to.

  He stopped, looking at the small billabong almost hidden by an outcrop of eucalyptus trees some eight hundred meters from the homestead. Not the main billabong he and Hunter swam in all the time, but the one he sometimes came to when he wanted to get away from the madness of working a cattle station. It was a small body of clear water no bigger than a suburban backyard pool. Very few people came to enjoy its inviting depths, except for the kangaroos that used it as a drinking hole.

  “Wow.” Monet stopped beside him, her gaze moving over the ancient gum trees shading the water, the lush green grass surrounding it, the craggy old rocks that jutted out of the ground on one side, making the most perfect ledge to take a plunge.

  A plunge, Dylan noticed, Mutt had already taken, given that his dog was happily paddling around in the water.

  “This is beautiful.”

  He turned to face Monet. “It is. But not as beautiful as you.”

  “Dylan,” she said, “I know you think you know what’s best for—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t. Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t fight the need to kiss her anymore.

  Her mouth opened to his straight away, their tongues mating with a fierce hunger he understood all too well. He feasted on her lips, devoured them. He’d never been so starved for anything like he was Monet’s mouth. He buried his hands in her hair, his hat tumbling from her head as he did so. He didn’t care. Neither, it seemed, did she. They stood beside the billabong, the scorching Australian sun beating down on them, and mocked its heat with the blazing ferocity of their kiss.

  Tongues battled, teeth nipped. They kissed each other as if it was their only hope of survival, and perhaps it was. Perhaps, Dylan thought, it was the only way they could face the rest of their tomorrows apart. This one kiss.

  “Jesus bloody Christ, Monet,” he groaned against her mouth. He was on fire. Aching. “I love you. I wish I didn’t, but I do. How the fuck am I going to exist without you?”

  She pulled away from him, and every fiber in his body screamed out in denial, wanting to feel her against his body again. “You’re a moron, Dylan Sullivan,” she said, her voice a choppy breath.

  He frowned, his chest tight, his balls heavy. “A moron? For loving you?”

  She shook her head. “You still haven’t asked me why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here, Monet?”

  She reached down behind her, snared his fallen hat from the ground and placed it on her head again. “I showed you New York for six days. I think it’s only fair you show me Farpoint.”

  Dylan’s heart thumped hard in his chest. He swallowed, refusing to let his brain take him where it wanted to go. “For six days?”

  Monet shrugged. “I’m getting the feeling Farpoint Creek is too big to see in six days. I mean, I could spend six days just drawing this…this…” She waved a hand at the small body of water. “What do I call this? A pond?”

  Dylan couldn’t stop his grin. Just as he couldn’t stop his pulse from pounding like an insane elephant in his throat, nor his cock from flooding with eager, impatient need. “Billabong,” he answered.

  She grinned back at him. “I think I’ll need to spend at least six days sketching this billabong. At least six. Maybe more.”

  Dylan closed the distance between them with a single step, smoothing his hands around her waist. “How many more?”

  She gazed up at him, his hat ridiculously big on her head, her wholly kissable lips pulling into a wide, seductive smile. “You know us Americans. We never do anything half measure. I’m thinking as many days as truly necessary. Maybe a month?” She gave him another elegant shrug, a second before her hands slid up his chest and flipped open the top button of his shirt. “Maybe more.”

  Dylan’s cock jerked in his jeans and he pushed his hips forward, letting Monet know exactly what he thought of that idea. “Maybe more, ’eh?”

  She nodded. “And when I finish drawing the billabong, I’m going to need to spend at least another month making sketches of all the Australian stockmen around here. You know, for my next exhibition.”

  “All the stockmen?”

  She popped open the second button. “Well, maybe not all the stockmen. Maybe just the Down Under Wonder. Have you heard of him? H
e’s all I can think about of late. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because he flew into New York, made me fall head over heels in love with him and then took off before I came to the realization an artist can live wherever she damn well pleases. In any country she damn well wants.”

  Dylan’s throat grew thick. Almost as thick as his cock. “She can?”

  Monet traced the tip of her tongue over her top lip. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly certain Australia has quite a few art galleries, yes?”

  Dylan’s cock throbbed. His heart raced. “Now that you mention it…”

  “I’m working on a new exhibition. One that I plan on giving no closing date.” Monet released a third button on his shirt. “Titled Happily Ever After—The Stockman and Me. I think you’d be perfect as my inspiration.” She slipped her hands beneath the fabric and brushed her fingertips over his taut nipples. “Tell me, how do you feel about being my exclusive nude model?”

  Dylan sucked in a slow breath, the nails scraping over his nipples doing wicked things to his body. “I think I could learn to suffer for your art.”

  “Good,” Monet murmured, rising onto tiptoe to brush her lips over his. “Because I plan to use you for a very long time, cowboy.”

  The End

  About Mari Carr

  Writing a book was number one on Mari’s bucket list and on her thirty-fourth birthday, she set out to see that goal achieved. Now her computer is jammed full of stories—novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends. A New York Times and USA Today bestseller, as well as winner of the Passionate Plume, Mari finds time for writing by squeezing it into the hours between 3 a.m. and daybreak, when her family is asleep and the house is quiet.

  About Lexxie Couper

  Lexxie’s not a deviant. She just has a deviant's imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get darkly erotic romances with a twist of horror, sci-fi and the paranormal!

  When she's not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family: a husband who thinks she's insane, a pony-sized mutt who thinks he's a lap dog, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.

  Living in Australia makes it a bit tricky for Lexxie to pop by for coffee, but she still loves to chat! Contact her by email or find her at her website or her blog (http://lexxiecouper.wordpress.com/).

  Mari and Lexxie welcome comments from readers. You can find their websites and email addresses on their author bio pages at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

  We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email the authors directly or you can email us at Comments@EllorasCave.com (when contacting Comments, be sure to state the book title and author).

  Also by Mari Carr & Lexxie Couper

  Foreign Affairs 1: Misplaced Princess

  Also by Mari Carr

  Black Jack

  Cocktales 1: Party Naked

  Cougar Challenge: Assume the Positions

  Covert Lessons

  Everything Nice

  Inflamed

  Kiss Me, Kate

  Rekindled

  Retreat

  Scoring

  Screwdriver

  Spitfire

  Sugar and Spice

  Three Reasons Why

  White Knight

  Wild Irish 1: Come Monday

  Wild Irish 2: Ruby Tuesday

  Wild Irish 3: Waiting for Wednesday

  Wild Irish 4: Sweet Thursday

  Wild Irish 5: Friday I’m in Love

  Wild Irish 6: Saturday Night Special

  Wild Irish 7: Any Given Sunday

  Wild Irish 8: Wild Irish Christmas

  Print books by Mari Carr

  Retreat

  Sugar and Spice, Everything Nice

  Tease the Cougar anthology

  Wild Days anthology

  Wild Nights anthology

  Wild Times anthology

  Also by Lexxie Couper

  Blowing it Off

  Cougar Challenge: Copping a Feel

  How to Love Your Dragon

  Seven Deadly Daemons 1: Timeless Wrath

  Seven Deadly Daemons 2: Endless Lust

  Stone’s Soul

  Ty the Sexy Dragon

  Print books by Lexxie Couper

  Cougar Hunt anthology

  Going Down Under anthology

  Passionate Peridot anthology

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Misplaced Cowboy

  ISBN 9781419940002

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Misplaced Cowboy Copyright © 2012 Mari Carr & Lexxie Couper

  Edited by Kelli Collins

  Cover design by Syneca

  Photo: Fotolia.com

  Electronic book publication August 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party websites or their content.

  Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

  www.ellorascave.com