The Cattleman's Proposal (The Men of Mulhany Crossing Book 1)

by Helen Lacey

  His eyes darkened instantly. “Funny how we were both thinking the same thing.”

  Joley laughed at his outrageous comment. “Are you always so blunt?”

  “Is there any point in being anything else?” he shot back. “Skirting around the truth doesn’t get to the point.”

  The music slowed again and Joley didn’t protest when he urged her a little closer. Her breasts brushed lightly against his chest and the feeling wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, she liked it a whole lot more than she was prepared to admit.

  “And what is the point?”

  “The point,” he said so quietly, so close, she felt his breath in her hair and a shiver raced down her spine, “is that I’ve been trying to get your attention for three months and you’ve done a fine job of ignoring me.”

  It was quite an admission. Joley stared up at him. Well, he certainly had her attention now. “You have? Why?”

  “Joley,” he said, closer again and his thighs touched hers. “I’m thirty-five years old—too old to play games. The truth is, I think you are incredibly attractive and I want you.”

  Attention one slightly used virgin…gorgeous man who wants to take you to bed alert!

  Joley’s head spun. “You want me? Well, I don’t have casual…sex.”

  Nate’s hand moved upwards and rested against her shoulder blade. “I didn’t say anything about it being casual.”

  It was too much. “Sex with someone I hardly know? That sounds pretty casual to me.”

  He smiled and Joley’s belly did a stupid flip-slop. “Are you this suspicious of all men?”

  Just those who make my motor run. “I don’t—”

  “I said I wanted you,” he cut her off smoothly. “I didn’t say what for.”

  She stilled. “Oh.”

  He moved closer. “Of course I would like to make love to you, but I would also like to get to know you better. And I’d like you to get to know me.”

  Ignoring him, she decided, had been much better for her good sense. Being this close made Joley brilliantly aware of what she’d missed out on over the countless years she’d been alone. A man’s arms like these were the stuff silly dreams were made of. And they were arms she could easily get used to. Especially when he spoke about making love to her in a way that made her skin burn.

  Joley grabbed hold of her wavering logic. “But aren’t you going home soon? You live five hundred miles west, right?”

  “Six hundred and eighty,” he corrected. “Approximately.”

  “It’s a long way from here.”

  “But I’m here now,” he reminded her. “And not leaving until Thursday”

  “That’s only five days.”

  “A lot can happen in five days,” he replied. “Just ask your friend Patrick. It only took him about five days to get my sister pregnant.”

  Pregnant?

  Joley’s feet turned into cement. Gabby was pregnant? No…impossible. Patrick would have surely told her. Wouldn’t he? She stopped moving. Stopped feeling. Stopped…everything. Even her heart seemed to cease beating.

  A baby….

  “You didn’t know?”

  She looked up and met Nate’s slate eyes. Her head shook fractionally. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and seemed to draw her closer. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s their business who they tell.”

  Their business. Joley felt so completely excluded her insides ached. Because at that moment she realized the full impact of Nate's announcement. She was excluded from Patrick’s life. Forever and always, from this day forward.

  “Can we stop?”

  He didn’t exactly look disappointed. Maybe annoyed. Maybe frustrated. To his credit, he simply nodded and steered her from the dance floor. Once they reached the bridal table Joley excused herself. She had make-up to repair, or blisters on her heels…something, anything to get her away from Nate Garrigan’s steely-eyed gaze.

  On the way to the powder room she grabbed a glass of champagne and downed half of it before she reached the doorway. Once inside she perched against the hand basin and the weight of her predicament pressed down on her shoulders.

  Her business was in serious trouble. Who could she lean on now that Patrick was married and about to become a father? Her own father had no idea of the extent of their financial problems and she knew he would be crushed to find out he might lose everything. Joley felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She had to find a way to fix things before it was too late.

  I just have to.

  The rest of the champagne quickly followed. She wished she had another glass. And another. Enough to ease the slowly gathering pain behind her ribs. Things couldn’t get worse, could they?

  “Are you hiding out in here, darling?”

  Wrong. Things could get worse. Ella McBride—her mother—would make sure of it. As small as a bird and proud of it. Joley often felt like an Amazon beside the woman who had given birth to her. She’d apparently inherited her big-bonedness from her six-foot-three father. “I’m not hiding out,” she lied. “Just taking a breather.”

  “From what?” her mother asked. “Not that gorgeous man you were dancing with, surely?”

  Of course, Ella noticed everything. And she knew exactly who Nate was. “A breather,” she said again. “I have a headache.”

  “You’ll have more than a headache if you keep drinking,” Ella said and pointed to her empty glass. “You’ll have a hangover.”

  Joley smiled as sweetly as she could and ignored her mother’s warning. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Boring some poor soul with details of his last flying expedition, I’m sure.”

  Sympathy for her father fuelled Joley’s temper. “He lives to fly. You should try it and go with him.”

  Ella’s eyes almost popped out. “Hardly. So, he’s available?”

  “Who’s available?” she asked, but knew exactly who her mother meant.

  “At your age, coyness isn’t cute,” Ella said. “How long has it been since you last had a boyfriend?”

  Joley didn’t reply. Her mother knew the answer. “I’m not in the market for romance at the moment.”

  “Who said anything about romance?” Ella shot back. “I’m talking about marriage. Children. Grandchildren.”

  Ah, the old grandchildren card. Her mother pulled it out at every opportunity. Joley wasn’t about to admit she had been thinking about that very thing. Better to be as vague as always. “If someone comes along then maybe I’ll—”

  “But that’s not likely, is it?” Ella asked, cutting her off. “Not when you spend all your waking hours with your beloved planes and refuse to give any man a chance. Now, Paul was—”

  “Very nice but not for me,” Joley said, cutting her off right back. “I wasn’t in love with him.”

  Ella shook her head. “Sentimental fools get left on the shelf.” She pointed to the doorway. “Now, look at Patrick and Gabby…”

  I’d rather not.

  “Three months after meeting they’re married.”

  And pregnant.

  “And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together,” Joley said through what seemed like a mouth full of rocks and then felt all kinds of shame for not being supremely happy for her closest friend.

  Sentimental fools get left on the shelf.

  What was wrong with being a little sentimental, anyway? The other option was, what? A lukewarm marriage like her parent’s had? No, thank you.

  “Patrick’s married now,” Ella said with emphasis. “And you haven’t any more excuses.”

  Joley frowned. “What does that mean?” she asked and then figured out her mother’s statement in seconds. It wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of harbouring secret feelings for her best friend. But now he was married she hoped it would be the last. She did love Patrick. But she wasn’t in love with him.

  “When one door shuts, another always opens.”

  Ella’s words only amplified her loneliness.
How could she possibly explain what she was feeling? Her mother wouldn’t understand. She barely did herself.

  Joley muttered something and quickly left the powder room. She headed for the bridal table. It was empty. She looked around. Patrick was on the dance floor with his arms wrapped around his new wife. Gabby said something to him and he smiled. Joley watched as he discreetly placed a hand on his bride’s belly and they shared a look so intimate, so intense, it almost squeezed all the air from her lungs. Because she knew what she saw.

  Love…real love.

  Something I’ve never known.

  And something she suddenly craved. Her lonely life rose up and laughed at her. With her business on the brink of ruin and her bed empty, she knew she needed to make some serious changes.

  Like some kind of internal radar, her eyes immediately focused on Nate. He stood by the doors leading to the patio talking with relatives and his gaze immediately met hers. Awareness rushed across her skin. Joley grabbed a glass from a passing waiter and drank the contents as quickly as she could.

  She managed to swipe another glass for courage and slowly began her way across the crowded room. When she reached him, he was alone. He held her stare. Joley took a breath. And then another, followed by a long gulp of champagne. She stepped closer and they almost touched. His wide shoulders suddenly seemed like a safe haven. And with her life going spectacularly down the gurgler, exactly what she needed. Even if it was only for one night.

  “If you want me,” she whispered. “Have me.”

  Chapter Two

  Joley rolled, squinted and attempted to pry her lids open. Her mouth felt like she’d swallowed a fist full of sand and she rubbed her hands across her face. The movement caused a jabbing pain in her temple and she groaned.

  Where am I?

  In bed, obviously. But who’s bed? The mattress was unfamiliar, the pillow not her own. Joley blinked a few times and finally focused on her surroundings. A room. A hotel room. The kind that cost plenty. A bright sliver of sunlight pierced through the crack between the curtains. She rolled again and landed on her back. Memories, fuzzy and sporadic, leached into her brain. The wedding. Patrick and Gabby. Her mother.

  Nate Garrigan!

  Oh my god! What did I do?

  She sat up quickly, ignoring the head spin as the sheet fell away. Her underwear was in place—but that was all. She squinted and spotted her bridesmaid’s dress flung over an armchair. Her shoes were scattered on the floor and the small floral arrangement that had been in her hair hung off a chair along with her handbag.

  Right alongside a black dinner jacket.

  Joley pulled the sheet up to cover her lace bra when her brain registered the familiar hiss of the shower. I’m not alone. The big bed looked rumpled and slept in. Maybe more than slept in.

  The shower stopped around the same time as Joley’s heart.

  When the bathroom door opened and Nate emerged, wearing only a towel around his waist, she sucked in a breath. His chest and broad shoulders consumed the doorway and she was pole-axed by the blatant display of gorgeous male flesh. His skin looked like hot satin stretched over steel and try as she did, Joley couldn’t look away. He had a body toned and strong from hard work and the outdoors, and so well cut it was as though he’d been carved from granite. Her libido gave her a serious nudge, reminding her she was a woman barely ten feet away from a semi-naked man.

  He rested against the architrave and watched her. “Good morning.”

  Joley swallowed hard. “Hi.”

  “How’s the head?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered her headache. “I’ll live.”

  He smiled fractionally and pushed himself off the door. “Coffee?”

  She wasn’t sure accepting anything from him would help her position—her extremely vulnerable position. All Joley wanted to do was grab her belongings and leave as quickly as she could.

  Not going to happen.

  “Tea would be better,” she said agreeably and pulled at the sheet some more. He moved across the room dressed in only a towel and she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest, his shoulders, and washboard belly. Mesmerizing beyond belief, she absorbed every inch of his skin until her eyes burned. Joley knew she should look away, knew every moment she continued to stare and silently revere his obvious attributes he would figure out she was attracted to him.

  Thankfully, he left the bedroom and Joley had a few moments to pull herself together. Not so easy when her head pounded and her mouth felt like she’d been chewing dust.

  So what do I do—jump out of bed and make a run for my clothes?

  The last thing she wanted to do was squeeze back into that awful dress. She looked around for a dressing gown or something else to cover her curves and found nothing. By the time she’d summoned the courage to push the sheet back and dart towards the bathroom, Nate returned holding a cup.

  Joley managed a smile as he passed it to her and tried not to look at his flat stomach, which was impossible since her gaze was in direct line with his navel and the sexy line of hair trailing downwards where it disappeared beneath the towel. Her sex-starved body took serious notice. She sipped the tea, closed her eyes and waited for the welcome soothing kick.

  When it didn’t come Joley knew she was in the firing line of one heck of a hangover. She vaguely remembered sculling several glasses of champagne, even more elusive were memories of the man in front of her. Think…remember. She quickly scrapbooked her random thoughts together, piece by piece, until she recalled, with humiliating clarity, that she’d thrown herself at him. Oh God…did I beg him to take me to bed and make love to me?

  She looked up, felt the scorch of his gray eyes and made a croaking sound before the words came out. “Um…did…we…you know…” Her voice slipped away alongside her courage. Joley glanced towards the other side of the bed and shame coursed across her skin.

  “No.”

  Instantly relieved, Joley let out a heavy sigh. “Thank God,” she breathed and sensed his smile even though she didn’t dare look at him.

  “You slept here. I slept on the sofa.”

  Her relief increased and she placed the cup on a side table and looked up. “And how did I get here?”

  He smiled and her stomach flipped over. “You weren’t exactly in a fit state to catch a cab by yourself last night.”

  Joley watched, fascinated as the towel around his hips hitched fractionally lower. She licked her dry lips. “I must have drunk too much.”

  “You could say that,” he replied.

  “Explains the headache,” she said and grabbed her temple again. Memories flooded back—she had made a fool of herself, that much she remembered. “So…why didn’t we…you know…” She pointed to the bed as color burned her skin from head to toe.

  He moved away and grabbed a few items of clothing from an opened suitcase. When he was done, he dropped half the pile on the bed. “Call me old-fashioned, but if I’m going to make love with someone I’d prefer her not to be unconscious.”

  Unconscious? Oh, please don’t let that be true. “I don’t remember.”

  He nodded. “Precisely. Drink you tea, have a shower, get dressed—we’ll talk when you’re done.”

  “Get dressed?” she echoed and glanced at the clothes he’d dumped on the bed. “But these—”

  “Should fit,” he said and cut her off. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  He walked from the bedroom holding the rest of the clothes and shut the door. Joley lasted three seconds on the bed before she pushed back the sheet, grabbed the clothes and darted for the bathroom. She shut the door and took a long look at herself in the mirror. It was worse than she’d imagined. Bad hair and pale skin accentuated the dark circles beneath her eyes and she drew in a steadying breath.

  Have a shower, get dressed—we’ll talk when you’re done.

  Talk about what? Her uncharacteristically appalling behavior? As she stripped off her underwear and stepped beneath the shower, Joley knew the
gaps in her memory were about to be filled in—and probably in stunning Technicolor.

  The jeans fit, she discovered a few minutes later, once she’d dried herself off and brushed her teeth with the disposable toothbrush he’d left on the sink. She rolled up the hem a few times. The worn denim was surprisingly comfortable against her skin. She deliberately didn’t think about the intimacy of wearing his clothes. She tied the white shirt in a knot at the front and let the tail hang at the back. Once she’d finger-combed her hair and pinched her cheeks for a little color, Joley returned to the bedroom. She retrieved the uncomfortable shoes and stuffed her feet into them, ignoring the red looking blisters on her heels. She had bigger problems than blisters. One big problem in particular. A six-foot-three problem she suspected wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

  When she entered the next room, he was talking on his phone. She stared at him and experienced a now familiar flip-flop low in her belly. His words were clipped and impatient and she got the sense he wasn’t happy with whoever was on the other end of the call. He said goodbye and dropped the phone into his pocket.

  Nate turned quickly. Joley stood by the door to the bedroom. She looked good in his clothes and the way she’d tied up his shirt highlighted her curvy figure. His blood stirred. She had a way of doing that to him regardless of what she wore. Something about the way she moved, the way her hips swayed as she walked, ignited his awareness of her on a primary level.

  Last night she’d fallen into his arms and had he wanted less of her, he may have been tempted to take what she offered. But he didn’t want less of Joley McBride. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. Yes, he wanted her in his bed—but not because she’d had too much champagne or because she was trying to erase her feelings for Patrick Cohen, as much as she denied them. He had to meet her in the middle…and honestly. Nothing less would do. Nate had no intention of getting dragged down by a whole lot of romantic foolishness.