Her Cowboy Stud

by Randi Alexander

  Trace grasped her hand and leaned toward her, his meal forgotten. “Why?”

  “We chatted the whole flight. He told me he was a widower with no children, but he couldn’t stop talking about his favorite nephew whom he said was too hard working, too responsible, and too damn lonely.” She chuckled. “That has to be you.”

  “Huh.”

  “He said…he said we’d be perfect together.” Macy blinked back a surge of emotion. Silas was right. They were perfect for each other. Was it coincidence, or was it the instincts of a very wise man as he faced his last days? “He asked for my name and e-mail. He was so sweet and sincere.” When she hadn’t been convinced, Silas pulled Trace’s picture out of his wallet, and Lord help her, she couldn’t get her business card out of her purse fast enough. Heck, she would have followed Silas home right then if he’d asked her to come and meet his nephew. “I gave him my card, hoping, but never really expecting to hear from anyone.”

  Trace stared at his plate. After a minute, he asked, “If he was tryin’ to set us up, why didn’t he give me your e-mail?”

  “I think he was looking at the bigger picture.” She played with the stem of her wine glass. “I get the feeling he wanted us to meet after he…was gone.”

  “Why would he do that?” He turned to face her and stroked his thumb over her knuckles.

  Forcing herself to ignore the sensual flare of his touch, she shrugged. “I can only guess, but did you spend a lot of time with him during his last months?”

  Trace frowned. “I did. He has a house on the other side of the rise, and I brought him supper every evenin’. When he couldn’t eat any more…” He took a deep breath.

  The look in Trace’s eyes held pain mixed with love. This big, strong man letting his emotions show nearly broke her heart. Her breath caught and tears burned the backs of her eyes.

  “We hired nurses to be with him around the clock. I’d spend as much time with him as I could, talkin’ or readin’ to him. Or just sittin’ next to him while he slept.”

  His lips curled and his right eyebrow lifted. “I’m followin’ your logic. You think that wily old coot decided to get us together after he was gone, when my time wasn’t bein’ spent with him.”

  She tipped her head. “That’s my guess.”

  After a minute, Trace released her hand and lifted his wine glass in a toast. “Clever fella, that Silas.”

  She raised her glass. “To Silas.” She gazed at the ceiling. “Thank you. You’ve given me a precious gift.”

  “Spinnin’ Wheel?” He tapped his glass to hers and drank.

  “No, Trace McGonagall.” She stared into his eyes. “You.” How could she tell him how much he meant to her already? That she hated to leave tomorrow, and desperately wanted to come back—if he wanted her back.

  He went silent, but his gaze stayed locked with hers. His jaw worked, as if searching for the right words.

  Had her admission been too much? She set down her glass and changed the subject. “Trace, we should talk about the horse. I live in a condo in Chicago, so I can’t take him with me.”

  “Good choice.” His lips twitched in a wry smile. “I read a study recently that said horses don’t do well in condos.”

  She laughed, but when he set his hand on her bare thigh, the warmth of his palm made lovely ripples of desire that spread through her. Macy's core contracted and her nipples tightened. She laid her hand on his on top of her leg. “I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t want him to be unhappy.”

  “He’s been here for a lot of years, and he seems happy.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “There’s still a lot of call for him to breed. If you want to leave him here, we can set up financial arrangements, deductin’ his expenses from the revenue he brings in.”

  She sat back and smiled, picking up her fork and knife. “My horse, the gigolo.”

  Trace chuckled, low and sexy. “He’s a stud, all right.”

  “I can’t wait to tell my friends about him.” She shook her head as she cut the turkey. “They’ll never believe me. I’ll have to take some pictures tomorrow, before I leave.” The thought depressed her, and chased away her appetite.

  Trace’s face sobered as he set his forearm on the table, his hand open, palm up. “Will you be comin’ back this way?”

  Her heart swelled at his tentative question. She set down her silverware and gripped his big hand, staring into his blue eyes, seeing all the way to his soul. “If you’ll let me, Trace, I’d like to come back quite often. And not just for Spinning Wheel.”

  “You’d come to see me, too?” His smile was half-sweetheart, half-devil.

  “I’d come for you first.” Would she stay permanently if he asked her? No, she had to take it one step at a time.

  “If your company lets you sell sex toys in Texas?” Now his stare turned intense, as if he could read her mind.

  His question sent a rush of warmth to her chest and her breath caught. So much for taking this slow. He seemed just as anxious to make this work as she was. Of course, she’d been planning this for three months. When she found out she was going to meet Trace, she’d talked with her friend, the owner of the company, and brought up the idea of expanding to the Southwest.

  Since Trace had bared his soul to her, she had no intention of holding back either, and she opened her heart and let him in. “I’d give Texas a try.” Her voice quavered. She felt exposed, naked, but at the same time, her excitement grew at the possibilities.

  “You could rent Silas’s house, if you wanted.” His voice came out tentative, as if choosing his words carefully.

  “No. Too far from Spinning Wheel.” She smiled seductively. “Anything closer?”

  “Darlin’.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, sliding his hand up her thigh under the tails of his shirt. His smile teased as he asked, “Rent one of my guest rooms?”

  “No. Too far from my stud.” She kissed him, pouring her soul into each move, each touch, every brush of her tongue on his, until he slowed the kiss.

  He took his lips from hers and sat back. “Hey, you’re cryin’.”

  She touched her wet cheek, as surprised as he was. “I guess I am.”

  “Happy?” His eyes glowed in the candlelight.

  “I’m in heaven.” She kissed him gently, giving him all the affection swelling in her heart.

  “Can you stay another day? A couple days?”

  She pulled a frown. “I can’t. I have a tradeshow in L.A. Monday morning—”

  “Whoa. A sex toy tradeshow?” His eyes sparkled.

  “Yes,” she laughed. “It really is a business. It’s not all slap and tickle.”

  “Oh, darlin’, there’s no way I’m missing this. I’m going with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “The foreman’s been yellin’ at me to take a vacation.”

  “But…you’d leave the ranch?” This was too unexpected.

  “For a few days.” His voice softened. “To be with you.”

  She cupped a palm on his cheek. “That’s so sweet. I’d love to have you come with me.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m not just doin’ this for you and me.” He resettled her so his cock rested against her pussy, the fabric of his briefs between their heated flesh. “I can’t, in good conscience, let you sell anything in Texas that hasn’t been thoroughly tested by a Texas cowboy.” His crooked smile warned her just how much fun they’d have doing the testing.

  She hummed her approval and wriggled her hips over his hard shaft. “We can try every one of those sex toys, Trace, but I know for a fact nothing will ever measure up to my cowboy stud.”

  “I am yours, Macy.” His face sobered. “Anything I need to do to be with you, I’m willing.”

  She bit her lip, her heart swelling with tenderness. “Let’s get online and book a ticket for you on my flight.”

  He nodded but held her tighter on his lap. “In a minute. First, I want to get somethin’ cleared up. Somethin’ that’s been botherin’
me.” His eyes turned serious and she braced her hands on his shoulders. He asked, “What did you think of me when you first saw me today?”

  It took her a minute to phrase her answer so she didn’t sound like a lovesick teen. “I thought that Silas was right about everything. Since the first moment I met you, I’ve been amazed at how accurate his description of you actually was.”

  “And when I was rude to you, out on the porch? And when I tried to buy the horse from you?”

  “Hmm.” She pursed her lips. “I was hurt at first, but I halfway expected it. Silas said your only flaw was keeping yourself distant until you got to know a person. Testing people, and suspecting the worst of them.”

  He looked pensive for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He gazed into her eyes, all solemn and purposeful. “I want to apologize for that, Macy. I wish we hadn’t started out that way.”

  “Apology accepted, but not necessary. You did say you were sorry right out there in the driveway.” She almost blurted that it would make a fun story to tell their grandkids someday, but thankfully her cranial speed bump kept her from saying it aloud. “What did you think of me? Did you have any idea things would turn out like this?”

  He nodded. “I had no reason to doubt it.” He reached to the middle of the table and picked up a folded paper. Handing it to her, he said, “Silas guaranteed it.”

  Her mouth scrunched into a little circle as she opened the paper and saw small, tight, masculine handwriting. “He left you a letter?

  “He did. It describes you perfectly.”

  She shook her head, amazed at the planning it took for that sweet old gentleman to arrange all this. She read the letter aloud, blushing at some of the excessively complimentary things Silas said about her. Until she came to the last words. “I know beyond a doubt that you will…” It said, “love her.” She looked at Trace.

  He shrugged. “He’s been right about everything else. I have no reason to question his final prediction.”

  The paper fluttered from her hand. She looked into his gleaming eyes. “I have no doubt either.”

  He pulled her in for a long, heart-fluttering kiss, and she knew she was finally, permanently, home.

  About the Author

  When Randi Alexander is not dreaming of, or writing about, kinky cowboys, she’s biking trails along remote rivers, snorkeling the Gulf of Mexico, or practicing her drumming in hopes of someday forming a tropical-rock band.

  Romance novels have been Randi’s hideout since she was a teen. The chance to imagine herself as the strong but vulnerable heroine, and the guarantee of a “Happily Ever After” ending, have always been irresistible.

  Erotic romance is her newest passion. It still lets her live the heroine’s life and gives her a lovely ending, but also allows her to witness the attraction between the characters as they explore physical love. She hopes her writing sweeps you away and grants you pleasant dreams of all your fantasies coming true.

  Visit Randi at:

  www.randialexander.com

  To chat with Randi Alexander and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

  Also Available

  Chase & Seduction

  by

  Randi Alexander

  Country music superstar/actor Chase Tanner has yet to be denied anything—and he's never wanted anything or anyone more than gorgeous screenplay writer Reno Linden. So when the film they are working on is finally finished, Chase decides to turn up the volume on seducing Reno.

  Reno Linden lived a quiet, rural life until she was thrust into the Hollywood scene when her book was adapted to film. Chase Tanner is larger than life, sinfully sexy and hell-bent on getting her into bed. Skittish after a failed engagement, Reno risks the plunge into Chase's arms, and is surprised that her good girl self can keep up with bad boy Chase.

  Though Chase returns to his cowboy roots often, and Reno cherishes the time spent with him on his ranch, the two find their careers pulling them in different directions. Will their attraction survive the glitz and stress of fame?

  Chapter One

  Chase Tanner called her name from the stage. “Reno, c’mon up here, doll.” The speakers amplified his low baritone through the sound stage and his percussionist started a drum-roll. The other seventy-five partiers clapped, and woo-hooed her. She had no choice.

  Reno Linden carried her red plastic beer cup with her to the stairs, and as she climbed, she found herself looking directly at Chase’s well-aged cowboy boots. Then slowly up his long, jean-clad legs until her gaze caught on his zipper, the worn denim molding around his impressive bulge. And she swallowed hard.

  He held out his hand.

  Hesitantly putting her fingers on his palm, she felt that instant jolt of electricity she’d gotten every time she touched him over the last four months of filming.

  She looked up into his eyes, shaded by his cowboy hat, but they still shone a murky blue that made her want to dive in headfirst. Damn, he was good looking. Not too tall, slightly crooked nose, and full lips. Oh, great, now his smile broke through. A thousand watts of sexy.

  “Come and say something to the folks. You’re the reason we’re all here.” His trademark southern drawl was less pronounced when he wasn’t talking into a microphone.

  She nodded and let him help her up the last steps. Five years ago, speaking in front of a group would have scared her spitless, but since becoming a published author, and learning to face an audience by sheer force of will at book signings and writers’ conferences, it was as easy as falling off a stage.

  With her hand in his, Reno walked up to the microphone then slid her fingers out of his grip on the pretext of needing to tip the mic down to her level. “Can you believe it’s in the can?”

  The crowd cheered.

  Filming ended yesterday, and she looked out at the faces of the people she’d come to consider friends. Actors, producers, set designers, directors. She would miss them, and a little nip of sadness stung her. “I began writing Prairie Fire when I was just eight. It was a game we’d play, running through the wheat fields of South Dakota. Someone would yell ‘prairie fire’ and we’d all head for the root cellar.”

  Chase came to stand just off to her right, and she smelled the piney scent of his cologne. Her entire right side tingled with desire as his magnetism raised goose bumps on her flesh. She wiped her palm on her floral shorts, her technique for relaxing herself. Tonight’s wrap party was tropical themed, and she wore a pink T-shirt and matching flip-flops. Chase had traded his usual black muscle shirt for a bright Hawaiian shirt. She glanced back at him, and her train of thought derailed.

  His smile lifted just one side of his mouth while his eyes locked on her, smoldering, half lidded. Seductive.

  “Um…” Pull it together, Reno! She took a deep breath and moved closer to the mic. “When I finished the book three years ago, I had no idea that one day I’d be privileged to witness its transformation into next year’s…” She grinned. “…Oscar winner!”

  The group broke loose shouting and hooting.

  Chase stepped closer and put his hand on her lower back.

  He may have meant it to be reassuring, but it lit a sexual flare of intense proportions that spread through her body, centering low in her pussy. She didn’t dare look at him, and she needed to wrap this up and get the hell away from him.

  “I can’t seem to say it enough, but thanks to each of you. You made this experience unforgettable.”

  Someone called, “We love you, Reno!”

  Chase’s hand rubbed a circle across her spine. “Uh huh, we do.” His deep voice sounded too close to her ear.

  She stepped to her left, away from him, swiveling the mic with her, and said, “I’ll turn it back to our Country Music Male Vocalist of the Year-turned-actor, and the best bouncer the Prairie Fire Bar and Grill ever had, Chase Tanner.”

  The crowd went wild as she took a step back, but Chase grabbed her and pulled her ag
ainst his side, and shouted into the mic, “Reno Linden, everybody.” His hand rode her hip, then snuck up her ribs and brushed the side of her breast.

  Her smile froze as his intimate touch shot quivers from her nipples straight to her clit. She pulled away and made the mistake of glancing up into his face.

  He winked at her, and said in a low voice, “Later.” The look in his eyes was utterly wicked, and she turned and scampered down the stairs. Her heart thudded, and her face felt hot. Oh, God, she knew exactly what he meant by “later.” Now that filming was over, he wanted her. And heaven help her, she didn’t know if she could find the willpower to resist him.

  Chase’s voice rumbled over the sound system, low and intimate. “Miss Reno, this is dedicated to you, our favorite author.” The band started a slow song.

  Reno walked on jittery legs to where her friends stood chatting, deep in discussion. She took a good size gulp of lukewarm beer, needing the calming buzz of alcohol. She glanced back toward the stage where Chase pulled an acoustic guitar strap around his shoulder, his biceps flexing, his forearms bulging. Damn, that man made her hot. She looked away.

  It wasn’t just his body and his looks that sideswiped her, but his personality. A world-famous performer with an aw-shucks attitude, and the smarts to guide his own career. And he had a thing for her, too. He’d been trying to get her alone for months, and she industriously found ways to avoid it.

  Beatrix, the crew’s gaffer, nudged Reno’s arm with her elbow. “Great speech. I bet it was tough to put words together with that sexy stud breathing in your ear.”

  Reno shrugged, harnessing her runaway desire. “He’s not my type.”

  Tracy, one of the supporting actresses, laughed and pointed at her. “He’s exactly your type. He’s gorgeous, single, and can’t leave you alone for a minute. Why aren’t you going for it?”

  She’d been hearing the same thing from these two for months. Just have a quick, hot fling, get him out of your system. He’s supposed to be a fantastic lover. One night with him, and if you don’t have the big ‘O,’ just tell him you’re through.