by Helena Ray
“Luckily, they were able to tackle him before he could shoot anyone. The company hired a bodyguard for me, but I was so freaked out. I fell on stage, something I’d never done before, and I couldn’t concentrate on dancing. I fell apart, and my understudy had to go on. It destroyed me, ruining Juliet like that. My stalker was arrested and put in jail, but nothing was the same after that. And that’s when I planned my road trip.”
Tristan was silent for a moment and slowly raised his hand to wipe a tear from her eye. “You are so brave.”
“I’m a coward.”
“No. You’re not. You kept dancing when most people would have freaked and fled. You tried. What happened was not your fault.” He paused and turned the full force of his arresting blue stare on Alexis. “You are such a special woman, and if it’s okay with you, I don’t want you going anywhere anytime soon.”
Her heart thudded in her chest at his request. She wanted nothing more than to stay in Male Order for at least a few more days and get to know this handsome cowboy a little bit better. Hell, she wanted to get to know him a lot better.
“That’s perfectly fine with me.”
Tristan lowered his mouth to her and kissed her gently but thoroughly. His tongue brushed against her lower lip in a polite request. She opened her mouth and reveled in the soft dance of their tongues that stoked the flames inside of her. Tristan pulled away again and looked at her from under the lock of hair that had fallen across his face.
“You can stay at the apartment as long as you’d like. I’ve got connections.”
Alexis could only respond by pressing her lips back to his. She lowered her head and snuggled against his chest.
“I’ve never been this happy with someone.”
“Good.” He stayed holding her, stroking her back and upper arms as the rhythm of their breaths fell into perfect unison. “Stay the night. I don’t have anywhere to be in the morning.”
Alexis considered the notion for a moment and decided it sounded like a splendid idea.
“Okay, but on one condition.”
“Anything, baby.”
“You’re going down on me again, cowboy.”
Chapter 4
“Mr. Pierce. Mr. Pierce?”
Jeremiah faintly heard someone calling his name as he studied the crowded Dallas buildings that made up its skyline from the conference room of one of its iconic skyscrapers.
“Jeremiah.”
The more blunt tone finally returned his focus to the scene in the room. His lawyers sat on the other side of the conference table. Their briefcases lay open on the table, and papers covered nearly every square inch of its surface.
“Can’t we just settle already? I’d be more than happy to pay for all medical expenses as well as a very generous stipend for pain and suffering.”
One lawyer grabbed a few papers and studied them then shook his head at Jeremiah. “That is the solution that makes the most sense, but his insurance company is insisting we go to court.”
“And as chief executive officer of Burke Pierce Energy, you’re a key witness.” The other lawyer gave Jeremiah a look that betrayed his frustration with the case and Jeremiah’s attitude.
“Speaking of witnesses”—the first lawyer slid his glasses down his long nose and peered at Jeremiah over their rim—“is this mysterious Tristan Burke ever going to grace us with his presence?”
Jeremiah laughed at the lawyer’s assumption that he had anything to do with Tristan’s whereabouts. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
The lawyers did not look amused.
“He’s in Male Order, back at my place. I’ll see if I can convince him to come in. You already have his deposition, though.”
“Never enough, Mr. Pierce. Never enough.”
Jeremiah gathered his things and politely excused himself from the meeting. After he had descended from the twenty-ninth floor and retrieved his Lamborghini, he headed east toward his home at the outskirts of Male Order, Texas. Driving against the morning rush, he sped down the interstate to the little haven. He looked at the speedometer and contemplated pushing his Reventón above one hundred miles per hour but thought the better of it. Even if he rushed, he wouldn’t have time to stop at his apartment in downtown Male Order and change in time to make his mid-morning meeting with Dalton and Garrett Ellis.
He exited onto the farm-to-market that looped around Male Order to where the Twirling Lasso was located east of town. His visit needed to be quick. He didn’t need to be seen in his three-piece Dolce & Gabbana suit and his Lamborghini. But it was still before ten in the morning, and most of the residents of the more rural reaches of Male Order would be at work or asleep still. If only Tristan would wake his own ass up and get into town, Jeremiah’s day would be much easier.
He pulled into the dirt parking lot, wincing at the damage to his car and wishing he hadn’t loaned his truck to Tristan for the week. A quick glance around the parking lot showed that he hadn’t been found out. He fumbled in his briefcase for the keys to his apartment behind the Twirling Lasso.
Much to Jeremiah’s chagrin, the door was unlocked when he opened it. He looked around at the sparsely furnished but comfortable apartment. The bedroom door had been left open, and Jeremiah spied Tristan on the bed facedown with an arm slung over the side, emitting snores from his open mouth.
A noise startled Jeremiah. It came from the kitchen. Damn it, Tristan, he thought. This is what happens when you leave the fucking door unlocked. He padded softly toward the kitchen, ready to assess this home invader. He peeked around the doorjamb and was shocked at the sight.
Instead of the mischievous kids he expected, there stood a magnificent beauty, turned slightly toward Jeremiah and clothed only in one of Tristan’s old T-shirts and a pair of floral hipster-cut panties that showed off the curves of her toned ass. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, and even though she wore smudged makeup, doubtless from the night before, her face looked flawless, her almond-shaped eyes focused on whatever she was cooking and her luscious lips pressed together as she hummed a country tune.
She rose onto her tiptoes and did a little balletic turn before she saw Jeremiah. A flush lit her lightly tanned skin, casting an innocent air over her debauched appearance, and she dropped a pan of scrambled eggs, letting out a small scream.
“Who are you?” Her voice was only a squeak as she hurried to back into a corner and made a futile attempt at covering herself with her hands.
“So sorry, really, to disturb you.” Jeremiah rushed into the kitchen and began cleaning the eggs. He looked up at her, and he couldn’t help but stare in admiration at her long, shapely legs, made more appealing by the fact that she still stood on her toes. Finally, his eyes met hers, and he stood and deposited the ruined eggs in the sink.
Words became difficult when he looked into those light brown eyes, wide and sweet as she looked at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. He felt an unfamiliar urge to rush forward and comfort her, to take her in his arms and run his hands all over her.
“I’m Jeremiah. I own the Lasso, and this apartment.” His last words were directed at Tristan, who appeared at the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning.
“Jer! So good of you to pay us a visit.” Tristan’s words dripped sarcasm.
“Hold on, Tristan,” Jeremiah said, remembering that they had a guest and turning up his Texan drawl in an effort to distract from his well-tailored suit. “Your guest has yet to introduce herself.”
The girl darted her eyes to Tristan, and he gave her a nod.
“Alexis.” Her voice was as sweet as the expression that she wore. Involuntarily, Jeremiah wondered what it would sound like to hear that sweet little voice mutter something much, much dirtier. His cock had begun stirring when he saw her in the kitchen, and that thought brought it to full attention.
“Well, Alexis, it’s very nice to meet such a lovely young woman such as yourself.” He stepped forward, took her hand in his, and kissed her knuckles gently. Th
e flush returned to her face, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Nice to meet you, too,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
God, the girl was a feast of decadent naiveté. She couldn’t be older than what, twenty-five?
“I was just telling you about Alexis, remember, Jer?” Tristan’s words made Jeremiah’s heart stop beating for an instant. He had assumed that Tristan would have forgotten about their conversation yesterday and moved on to another Male Order floozy. He turned Alexis’s hand in his, studying it for a moment. It was so delicate in his large, callused hands, still work-roughened from his summers on the rig. He moved his thumb over her wrist and felt her pulse racing.
He finally released her hand and took a step back. “Ah, yes. I do remember now.” Her eyes still contained that innocent glow, and Jeremiah knew he needed to get away soon, before this situation got out of hand. “Tristan, a word, please?”
Tristan crossed to Alexis, tipped her chin upward in his hand, and kissed her. “Just a second, gorgeous.”
Jeremiah’s heart twisted at the sight. Never had he seen such sensitivity on Tristan’s face. He had certainly never seen him handle a woman so delicately. Maybe this really was something to consider… No. He had to resolve the case first. No time for romance right now.
He started toward the apartment’s exit and gestured for Tristan to follow. Once they were outside, Tristan’s face broke out in a grin.
“That’s her. She’s great, Jer. I really want you to get to know her. And holy shit, man, last night we had the most amazing—”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Jeremiah forced himself to return from his emotional and aroused state to his typical businesslike manner. “You need to go talk to the lawyers one more time, Tristan. I know you’re still upset about what happened, but they really need you to—”
“Not yet.” There was no sign of Tristan’s earlier good humor. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying that I can’t do it right now.” He averted his gaze and leaned against the wall of the building.
Jeremiah studied him for a moment. He knew how much the accident had upset him. George had been one of his best workers and closest friends on the rig. When he got injured, Tristan had withdrawn completely and was only now coming out of his shell again.
“Just make sure that you see them before the trial date, okay?” He looked at his watch. “Shit, I’ve got that meeting.” He turned toward his car then stopped and looked at Tristan. “Don’t blow my cover with Alexis?”
The smile returned to Tristan’s face. “Sure thing, man.”
It was amazing how happy that woman seemed to make him.
* * * *
Alexis laid out her entire wardrobe on the soft bed at the apartment where Tristan was letting her stay. She frowned at the results. Her wardrobe comprised of a few ragged pairs of cut-offs, some shirts, two pairs of jeans, a flimsy cotton dress, and about a hundred leotards and pairs of tights. It wasn’t much, especially here in this bastion of wealth.
Lucky for her, none of the pretentious billionaire types had gotten her in their sights. Instead, she was going out with that sweet roughneck, Tristan. The idea of a man not even thirty so hardened by years on the field made her insides stir. He could be so gentle with her, but then he could attack her and send her to deliciously illicit destinations.
The cotton dress would have been her immediate choice, but he was taking her out on his motorcycle. That wouldn’t be enough to protect her from the roaring engine of the beastly machine, would it? She grabbed the dress and crossed to the mirror. She held it against herself, loving the way it contrasted with her naturally tanned skin, and used her hands to experiment with whether it would look best with her hair up or down.
Her cell phone buzzed with a text message, and she dropped the dress on the floor and ran to see who it was from. Tristan! Her heart skipped a beat when she read his name. Eagerly she opened the phone to read his message.
I’m so sorry, baby, but I can’t make it tonight. :( I’m not blowing you off, but I have to go over a deposition…It’s a long story. Stay in Male Order long enough for a rain check?
Disappointment and sadness gripped briefly at her heart but were quickly replaced by an all-consuming anger. How dare he? She had trusted him, had cooked him breakfast, and now he was just blowing her off? Of course he didn’t say so, but that’s what Alexis’s limited experience told her was the norm. Guys are always too cowardly to admit they’re over a girl.
Why was she even staying in Male Order? She’d been to the Lasso twice—her only reason for being there—and she really didn’t like the idea of hobnobbing with the types she had seen hanging around this town. She collapsed on the floor in frustration. The idea of leaving held some pretty strong appeal, but so did spending at least one more night at the Lasso. She was already addicted to the Texas Two-Step.
Another idea crossed her mind. Why did she have to wait around for Tristan to take an interest? Judging by his reaction, she was at least kind of hot, and the streets of Male Order seemed to produce a never-ending supply of handsome bachelors. Why not see what the rest of them had to offer?
Jumping to her feet, Alexis stomped across the room and grabbed her white cotton dress off the floor. She was going out, and damn it, she was gonna look hot.
* * * *
Defeated, Alexis slumped deeper into the rickety chair facing the dance floor. Her good mood had disappeared, and thoughts of Tristan once more crowded her mind. Even dancing couldn’t help her tonight. She’d tried with several of the sexy cowboys here tonight, but all her limbs felt stiff and robotic in their arms and none of them seemed interested in anything more than a dance. After what Tristan had done to her the night before, she longed for more touching, more tasting, and part of her didn’t care who gave it to her. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the part that won out in her mind.
A deposition? What sort of an excuse was that? It wasn’t like Tristan was one of the wealthy heirs floating about Male Order. A regular, working-class guy like him would have no reason to get so involved in such legal affairs that he would be deposed on a weekend. She recognized it for what it was, a blow-off. Not a very believable or creative one, but it was his attempt to get rid of her, nonetheless.
“Aren’t you a dancer?” The smooth, deep voice with a soft Texas drawl made Alexis perk up and turn to see its owner.
Standing in front of her was the man she had seen this morning, and her body reacted to him in exactly the same way. He looked down at her with warm blue eyes and an open, friendly smile. His hair was loose in dark brown waves that framed his classically handsome, chiseled features. This morning he had been dressed to the nines, but now he wore a tight-fitting T-shirt advertising the Lasso and jeans that hugged his muscular figure. While Tristan had the wide frame of a man who had earned his muscles in the field, Jeremiah had the perfectly toned look of someone who spent a good amount of time in the gym. Her eyes lingered on his stomach, thinking she spied six-pack abs under the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
“I am,” she responded once she found her voice again. “But I’m afraid that I’m a hopeless two-stepper.”
“No one is a hopeless two-stepper.” He sat in a chair next to her, inclined toward her, and smiled. The look in his eyes made her want to trust him with anything, despite the trauma in her past. No wonder he was the proprietor of this place. He had the ideal disposition for greeting the wide spectrum of guests at the Lasso.
“So, Tristan tells me you’re a ballet dancer.”
Tristan. Her heart clenched at the mention of his name.
“Yes indeed. Before I left, I was a principal in the Kansas City Ballet. But that’s about as far from the Twirling Lasso as you can get.”
“Oh, come on, now. The Twirling Lasso is for everyone.” He leaned in conspiratorially and gestured to a man sitting a few tables away. “See that guy? That’s Alexander Abrams.”
“The Alexander Abrams?” She could hear the increduli
ty in her own voice.
“In the flesh. He’s been coming here since before you were born.”
“Hey! I’m twenty-five! I’m not that young.”
Jeremiah laughed a deep, rolling laugh that shocked Alexis’s body to life. “Of course you aren’t.” He gave her a smug smile, and without thinking, she landed a soft punch on his shoulder. She withdrew her hands quickly, shocked at her presumptuousness.
Jeremiah didn’t seem offended, though. He only laughed again, that deep, drugging sound, and moved closer to Alexis. The heat of his body next to hers caused her pussy to clench, and she was amazed at her newly accelerated sex drive.
“Dance with me.” His tone was frank and serious, even though he still wore that charming and open expression.
Alexis nodded, and Jeremiah took her hand and led her to the edge of the dance floor.
“You say you’re hopeless at this, which I don’t buy, so we’re gonna take this real slow.” He gathered her into his arms, and his warmth immediately relaxed her tense muscles. Where his fingers touched her bare skin, little electric sparks went flying. She looked up into his eyes as he counted them in to the beat of the song.
Dancing with Jeremiah came effortlessly. He whispered reassuring words in her ear while they danced, and she finally felt the relaxation she had seen in the other dancers. When he twirled her out, she flew across the floor without a thought to her technique or her feet and let Jeremiah guide her back into his arms.
She looked up into his eyes and saw that his expression had turned from friendly to passionate. He pulled her body into his, pressing her hips and her breasts against him. She let her hand wind around his shoulders, her fingers gliding over the rippling muscles of his back.