Lady with a Past

by Ryanne Corey

  He thought back a couple of years, to the times when her photograph was just about everywhere he looked. The gossip rags had been full of nightmare stories about stalkers, obsessed fans and jealous boyfriends. Connor was familiar with notoriety, being a semi-famous person himself, but Maxie’s career had garnered her far more than professional fame. The public had become obsessed with the beautiful young wild child. Every movement she had made was news, every magazine cover featuring her face was an automatic bestseller. He thought he understood her determination to remain lost. “I’ll sign a contract stating just that, as will my assistants and every person in my camera crew. I’ll make this as easy on you as possible, Maxie.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” She smiled easily at him, a cool veteran of thousands of such negotiations. “I want three hundred fifty thousand.”

  Connor flinched, knowing the money would come out of his own pocket if necessary. “Ouch. You’re very young to drive such a hard bargain. Anything else?”

  She shrugged, turning her attention to her drink. “No. Believe it or not, I’m not greedy. I need money to pay expenses until the farm starts making a profit. I also need a bull for my love-starved cows. Excellent bloodlines don’t come cheap.”

  Connor stared at her, wondering how on earth to respond to that. “You’re a unique person,” he commented finally, aware this was a vast understatement. “Before you launch into the finer points of breeding cows, would you like to dance?”

  The question seemed to startle her. She’d been perfectly in control until that point, keeping things on a cool, professional footing. He’d just kicked her legs out from under her.

  “Please?” Connor cajoled, smile lines curling his soft dark eyes. “We really ought to become better acquainted before filming starts. Everything will go much more smoothly if we’re comfortable with each other.”

  “I’m comfortable right now,” Maxie muttered. This was a bald-faced lie. Since walking into the bar, she’d been only too aware of Connor’s powerful physical presence. His sun-streaked, golden-brown hair was long enough in back to brush the collar of his shirt, lending him a boyish sort of charm. His features were full of bright expression, his eyes probing deeply each time he looked at her. His shirt draped loosely over well-sculpted muscles, soft blue jeans belted low and tight on a narrow waist. A perfect male animal. What stud fees he could command, she thought wistfully, then choked on her drink as sudden laughter doubled her over.

  “What?” Connor asked, clearly confused.

  “I spend too much time with my cows,” she managed, still laughing. “I’ve become a little strange.”

  “More than a little.” He stood up, tapping her on the shoulder. “On your feet, strange one. You’re either going to dance with me or with Wyatt Earp over there. He’s heading this way.”

  Maxie looked over her shoulder, grimacing as she spotted a tall, dark and not-at-all handsome cowboy bearing down on her. “I forgot what bars are like,” she grumbled, slipping off her bar stool. “The music just changed. I hope you know how to line dance, city boy.”

  Connor eyed the long row of dancers with some apprehension. “It looks like something out of Riverdance. You think we can bluff our way through it?”

  “Are you kidding? I haven’t been in a bar for two years. And when I did dance…well, it wasn’t like that.”

  “Show me.”

  Clasping her hand lightly, he led her onto the floor. They found a quiet corner free from stomping cowboy boots, where they could move as they liked.

  And then Maxie started to move.

  Connor danced as he always had, rather conservatively, but with lazy confidence. Maxie, however, moved with innate, primitive rhythm, hips swaying seductively and eyes half-closed as she concentrated on the music. She seemed to lose herself instantly in the dance, a luscious little smile on her lips as her back arched effortlessly to the beat. She tipped her head backward until her hair nearly reached her waist, then tossed her hair forward with a spirited, feline grace. She was totally absorbed in her romance with the rhythm.

  Connor’s eyes filled with smoldering heat, his mouth slightly parted as he watched her. Her dance was having quite an effect on him—his jeans were fitting a bit more snugly than they had thirty seconds earlier. She wasn’t dancing for an audience; she was dancing for herself, absorbed in her own private ritual. He could imagine her dancing like this a hundred times in the past, a sought-after celebrity seizing the chance to lose herself, if only for a few minutes. He was jealous of every single man who had ever watched her move with so much simmering emotion.

  “Heaven help me,” he said.

  “What?” She opened her eyes fully, shaking her head to show she couldn’t hear him. “Music’s too loud,” she pantomimed.

  He grinned, enjoying the momentary freedom to say exactly what he wanted to say. “Maxie, I want you.”

  She shrugged, holding up her hands. “Can’t hear you. Tell me later.”

  Connor nodded, the corners of his mouth lifted in an evocative, knowing curve. I will, sweetheart. I will.

  It was long past midnight when Connor walked Maxie to her truck. The night air hit their heated skin with a bracing coldness, stealing their breath. Try as he might—and he didn’t try very hard—Connor couldn’t help but notice Maxie’s nipples growing hard beneath her clingy tank top.

  “You should have brought a coat,” he said, quite happy that she hadn’t.

  “I didn’t expect to be here this late.” She paused by her truck, her face illuminated in the light from a streetlamp. “I think this is the first time in two years I’ve stayed up past the ten o’clock news. I’m going to hate myself come milking time.”

  “If you’re trying to convince me you didn’t enjoy yourself tonight, forget it.”

  “It’s been a long, long time since I relaxed like that. I have to admit, I enjoyed dressing like a girl again.”

  “Are you thinking about trading in your overalls for dresses and heels?”

  “Absolutely not. My cows would never recognize me.” She gave him a wonderful smile, unguarded and engaging. “I figured something out in the last couple of years. Too much of anything breeds boredom. Good times have to be balanced with the ordinary to get the full effect.”

  Maxie’s easy smile was full of her own special brand of magic, her eyes luminous. Connor ached to touch her. Under the circumstances, however, he contented himself with nipping the tip of her nose with his fingers. “You have a great deal of wisdom for someone your tender age.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “My tender age? I’m twenty-four going on forty-four. Believe me, I haven’t a scrap of wide-eyed illusion left.” They reached her truck and she turned to face him, leaning her back against the driver’s door. “I’m not complaining. When you realize the big things in life are usually a disappointment, you finally learn to appreciate the little things.”

  Connor wanted her to go on talking—and smiling—forever. Happiness, like every other emotion, looked good on her. “Like what?”

  “Sunsets,” she said promptly. “The taste of fresh lemonade. The smell of the sky after rain. Brownies.” She paused, planting her hands on her hips. “What have I said to set you off laughing like that?”

  “Nothing. Everything…the way you say things.” Connor could hardly get the words out. He cupped her shoulders with his hands, still laughing. “You make it all new again, Maxie. I thought I’d seen everything, but I’d never seen you, had I?”

  Maxie had to smile as well, taking in the picture he made with his knit shirt pulled out over his jeans and his hair every which way from dancing. His all-American good looks were gilded with lamplight, soft and sensual. He’d never looked as appealing to her as he did in that unguarded moment.

  Connor lost his laughter suddenly, his eyes taking on a sleepy intensity. Maxie sensed the change in him and tried to move out of his grasp, but he stopped her with a soft, “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  She had no idea why she
did as she was told. Too many drinks perhaps, she thought numbly. Her lips parted as his face filled her vision, her gaze settling on his mouth. A car nearby pulled out of the parking lot, its headlights briefly illuminating them with blinding honesty. Maxie saw the naked need in his eyes and felt an answering response flaring deep within. His hands moved upwards to frame her face, his touch as light as the breeze that swirled around them. He took less than a step, bringing his hips gently into contact against hers. The answering vibration in the pit of Maxie’s stomach made her gasp.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, running his thumb lightly along the curve of her lower lip. Maxie nervously touched her tongue to her dry lips, tasted his skin and shivered. Her eyes were enormous.

  “This isn’t…” She tried to assemble her scrambled wits, tried to remember whatever it was she had been about to say.

  “What?” he asked, bringing his mouth a fraction of an inch from hers. “This isn’t…?”

  “This isn’t…you shouldn’t—”

  He stopped her words with the butterfly touch of his lips settling on hers. It was a gentle, whisper-soft kiss, lighter than the moonlight. His tongue traced the edges of her mouth ever so gently, memorizing the sinfully sweet shape. It took all his willpower not to deepen the contact, every ounce of determination he possessed to pull back from her warm body and moist, parted lips.

  “Thank you,” he managed unevenly.

  Maxie sagged against the truck, her legs feeling like they were made of butter. Warm butter. “For what?”

  “Calling me. Dancing like a sorceress. Breathing. Take your pick.” He moved her to one side, opening the truck door. “Time to go, Maxie. Right now, while I’m still behaving myself.”

  Maxie did as she was told, moving like a sleepwalker.

  “Seat belt,” he said, while he was still holding the door open.

  She did up her seat belt with clumsy fingers.

  “You’re unusually cooperative tonight. What if I asked you…?”

  Seized by some wild, dangerous impulse, Maxie lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eyes. “Asked me what, Connor?”

  “Go home, little girl.” His voice was suddenly tight and soft, a muscle working in his cheek. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  For a moment she could only stare at him, feeling strangely exhilarated. It had been so long since she’d been conscious of her power as a woman, but she felt it tonight. Oh boy, did she.

  Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Now,” he said.

  Something in his expression told her he meant business. Maxie pulled the keys from their hiding place in the sun visor and started the truck. Connor shut her door with an excess of force, being careful not to look at her again. Then, because he knew his own limits, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.

  Five

  During milking the following morning, Maxie used the cows as an audience and nervously rehearsed a few possible greetings for Connor when he arrived.

  “How pleasant to see you again.” No, too formal.

  “Hello there, Connor. Isn’t it a lovely morning?” Ugh. Too perky.

  “Are you as tired as I am?” Yech, too honest. She didn’t want the man knowing she’d tossed and turned all night.

  Eventually she decided to play it by ear. She told herself she wasn’t as much anxious as she was uncertain. Connor had managed to shake her and tempt her and please her all at once, the emotions stubbornly lingering right through the night and on into the sunrise. Her skin still prickled with chills when she recalled the brief sensation of his lips on hers. She felt as if a secret place inside her was somehow waking after being asleep a long time.

  Noon came and went and still there was no sign of Connor. Maxie’s uncertainty gradually evolved into irritation. Why was she allowing Connor Garrett to influence her routine? She’d been perfectly happy with her life before she met him, and if she expected to be perfectly happy after he left, she’d better get a grip on herself.

  With a fresh sting of blood heating her cheeks, she stomped outside and started weeding the garden with ferocious energy. Dirt was flying every which way; poor Harvey’s thick bunny fur was soon clotted with soil from ears to tail. Boo sensed his human’s unsettled mood, and quickly disappeared behind the shed for a peaceful, dirt free afternoon nap. Boo was a lover, Maxie thought ruefully, not a fighter.

  She’d done a fair bit of damage to the weeds when she heard the sound of a car coming up the lane. She looked up, her stomach doing an odd little flip when she caught the flash of a familiar canary yellow rental car through a line of aspens. She had an urge to smooth her hair and defiantly resisted it. She reminded herself she was no longer haunted by that hobgoblin of the supermodel’s mind—appearance.

  She watched the car turn down her drive, then went back to work with a renewed zeal and a quickened heartbeat. Weeds flew, half-grown carrots scattered, even a tiny stake bearing an identifying vegetable seed packet went up and over her shoulder. This flurry of activity was more than even the usually placid Harvey could take. Nose twitching nervously, he scuttled for cover beneath a friendly head of cabbage.

  A car door slammed and slow footsteps crunched on the gravel. Maxie forced herself to count to ten before turning around. Connor was backlit by a halo of afternoon sun, a faceless shadow figure with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

  “You,” he said with amusement, “have dirt on your nose.”

  Maxie shaded her eyes with her gloved hands, blinking him slowly into focus. “Why, it’s you,” she remarked with feigned surprise. “I’d forgotten you were dropping by.”

  Connor’s smile clearly gave the impression she wasn’t fooling him for a minute. “I suppose I should have called first,” he said with exaggerated regret. “My deplorable manners. Shall I go back to town and give you a ring?”

  “Very funny. It would serve you right if I told you to go ahead and…” Her voice trailed off into dazed silence. Connor still had the same voice, the same longish mane of hair, the same butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth expression on his face. From the neck down, however, he was someone else. “Good heavens,” she finally managed. “You’ve turned into John Wayne.”

  “I decided I needed a new look,” Connor announced, rocking happily back and forth on his feet. “How do you like it?”

  Maxie stood up, automatically brushing the soil from her overalls as she gawked at him. She was truly speechless. All traces of the California-cool television personality had been erased. He wore a plain white T-shirt with a John Deere logo on the chest. Over this he wore an open denim jacket, the fabric obviously prewashed to a nicely faded summer blue. His skin tight jeans matched the jacket perfectly. Brand new cowboy boots completed the ensemble, the shiny alligator skin dulled a bit by a thin layer of dust from the gravel walkway. He looked like he was all geared up for a Fourth of July rodeo. The only jarring note was his mirrored aviator sunglasses.

  “You’re not Connor Garrett,” she said. “Who are you and what have you done with him?”

  He grinned, obviously enjoying his opportunity to play cowboy. “Look here,” he pointed out, indicating his creaseless jeans. “I’m practically wrinkled. It’s too warm today to wear the jacket, but I wanted you to get the full effect.” He shrugged out of the jacket, hooking it on his thumb and tossing it over his shoulder. “I feel like getting on a horse and herding something.”

  “I don’t have horses,” Maxie mumbled. Her attention was riveted by Connor’s new clothes—or, rather, by the way his new clothes fit his sculpted body. The T-shirt was smaller than his usual loose-fitting golf shirts, showing every rounded curve of his beautifully defined chest muscles. His jeans left nothing to the imagination. He was in incredible shape, truly incredible shape. What was it about lean hips and powerful thighs that sent a woman’s imagination into overdrive? She was a lustful wench, Maxie thought despairingly. Not that she’d ever admit it to Cowboy Connor.

  “So what do you think?” he prodded, pulling the sunglass
es down on his nose and peering at her over the top. “I kind of stood out like a sore thumb at the bar last night. This is better, right? Do I blend?”

  Maxie smiled weakly. “Just like one of the local boys. All you need now is a handlebar mustache and a bouncing beer belly and you’ll fit right in.”

  Grinning widely, he pushed the sunglasses back in place. “What with the interview and everything, I don’t know if I’ll have time to develop the beer belly, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Interview. That single word took the warmth out of Maxie’s eyes. She’d forgotten for a moment that Connor was here on business. The object of his interest was not Maxie Calhoon. If she wanted to keep her heart in one piece, she would do well to remember that. “Oh yes, the exclusive Glitter Baby exposé. How could I have forgotten? When do you want to get started?”

  Connor looked at her quizzically. One moment she was warm and natural, the next she might have been a million miles away. “You know, we were actually doing pretty well there for a few seconds. What did I say to turn you into the ice queen again?”

  She merely shrugged, a gesture that sent one strap of her overalls sliding off her shoulder. She pushed it back again automatically, stubbornly maintaining her silence. She had no clue how endearing the childish gesture was to Connor, how adorable she looked to him with her soiled overalls, smudged nose and flowered gardening gloves that were obviously much too big for her small hands.

  “One baby step forward, two giant steps backward,” he sighed. “Maxie, I had an idea this morning. Actually, more of a revelation.”

  “A revelation?” Her beautiful eyes chided him. “I doubt that.”

  “You doubt everything, kiddo. We’re going to have to work on that. Anyway, here’s what I propose: my camera crew won’t be here for a couple of days. I think we should use the time to get to know each other, to establish some kind of trust. The interview will be much easier for you if you’re at ease.”