by Cindy Gerard
“I’m not one of your airhead buckle bunnies who goes all a’shiver at the thought of a midnight ride with a rodeo cowboy. And I’m not up for a one-night stand, grabbing my clothes on the way out the door and an invitation not to call you in the morning.”
He scowled down at her, as disgusted by her image of him as he was by her accuracy. The punch of it hit him square on the jaw.
“So let’s cut to the chase,” she continued in a voice that he figured wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be. “Maybe it will save us both some time and trouble.
“There are...” She hesitated, then came up with an analogy that worked for her. “Playgrounds out there much better equipped to accommodate your needs.”
Backbone. The woman had it to spare. And insight. Man, he thought dismally, did she have him tagged.
“You’ve got to learn to express yourself, Country. Don’t be afraid to call it like you see it.”
She met his eyes, recognized the reluctant amusement dancing there. Though she fought the grin that twitched at one corner of her mouth, she finally gave in to it.
“I’m not making judgments, Jesse. How you choose to live your life is your business, no one else’s. I’m just saying that even if I wanted to play, I can’t let myself. I’ve got a business to run. I’ve got plans. I’ve got—” She stopped herself, regrouped and finished firmly. “Commitments. And I can’t afford any side trips.”
Well, then, he thought as he considered her. She’d made her position clear enough. She’d also left a lot unsaid. Such as, what kind of commitments was she so determined not to reveal? And what was making her so gun-shy? She was a woman. She had needs. They were both adults here. There wasn’t any cause for anyone to get hurt. On the heels of that assumption, one of the answers came to him.
“Been burned on one of those side trips, have you, Sloan?” he concluded out loud.
She lifted her chin, held her silence, effectively making it clear she wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity. Too late, he thought, with little sense of satisfaction. Those expressive brown eyes gave her away as clearly as if she’d cried on his shoulder. She’d been burned, all right. Burned bad.
Well, dammit, it happened. He shifted his shoulders uneasily, though, not much liking the idea that it had happened to her Or that it might have been someone a lot like him that had done it.
“Snowy River means everything to my dad,” she said with quiet determination, steering the conversation away from any speculations he might have about her past relationships. “And it means everything to me. I want to make it what he’d always wanted it to be but never quite managed to do.”
The minute those words were out, the guilty look on her face told him how sorry she was she’d said them. She was so bent on not sharing any insights into her personal life, she’d let something slip—something that, if he hadn’t managed to rattle her, she never would have admitted.
Inadvertently, she’d just confessed that her father hadn’t been able to make Snowy River Company a success. It was the same as saying her father had failed. Just as he’d read the reality of past pain in her eyes, now they gave away the remorse she felt over that slip—and Jesse had to add loyalty to the list of qualities he found so compelling about her.
Well, hell. This was getting way too sticky. He cupped a hand at his nape, worked his jaw. He hadn’t expected to get into any of this when he’d lured her out here. He’d just wanted to scratch that itch she’d set off last July. Nothing complicated. He’d just wanted a kiss. Maybe two. And then, well, they’d see how it went from there.
But here she was, getting to him on yet another level. Making him think about her—not just as a woman he wanted in his bed—but as a woman with wants and needs and a life that might be littered with disappomtment.
Well, he may be out for a good time—but not at her expense. He wasn’t that selfish. So how could he not just back off in the face of such sticky stuff? And how could he not wonder about the intriguing and somehow troubling puzzle of those other commitments she’d mentioned and seemed so bent on keeping to herself?
Before he knew it, he was not only backing off, he was adding some assurance he thought she deserved to hear.
“I know the boys haven’t exactly welcomed you with open arms,” he said, referring to the stock contractors, who were all male and had closed ranks on her, “but give ’em time. They’ll come around,” he added, then smiled at her doubtful look. “They’re taking note, believe me. You’re earning a rep as a pro. They respect that. And sooner or later, they’ll forget that you aren’t equipped quite the same way they are and give you a key to the men’s room anyway.”
He hadn’t known how much he liked seeing her smile. Didn’t feel the least bit guilty that he’d stooped to a little irreverent humor to coax one out of her.
“We all have a goal,” he said, effectively relaying that he understood about hers. And he did understand. He’d set his sights on the world title seven years ago. And this was the year he aimed to win it—the one prize that had escaped him.
He was into the second half of the season and still ranked in the top ten with only a grand or less separating him from the number one spot. If he stayed healthy, and rebounded from his slump, he could make up the difference in prize money and points next month.
The prize money wasn’t what it was about at this point in his career. Since the Professional Bull Rider’s Tour had been initiated a few years ago the money had been there for anyone who rode hard and stayed healthy. Add his prize money from the PBR Tour and the PRCA circuit to his commercial endorsements—and they paid him well to wear everything from boots to hats to britches—and he was making more money than he’d ever thought possible. So, no. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the title.
And, yeah. He knew about goals. And, he decided, with grim reluctance, he supposed he could do the decent thing and honor hers.
She wanted to make her business work. She didn’t want to get involved with him. And those commitments she mentioned—well, he guessed that was her business, not his, even though his imagination tried to fill in the blanks and niggled away at his curiosity like a bothersome blister.
He scratched his jaw, let out a deep breath, and gave it up. Okay. Fine. He’d back off if what she wanted was distance. But he didn’t like it. Hell, no, he didn’t like it, and he was damned if he was going to make it easy for her to maintain that distance—mostly because it sure wasn’t going to be easy for him.
“All right, Country,” he conceded, his tone relaying that he wasn’t particularly sold on the idea but that he’d decided to do the decent thing. “You win. No more bum’s rush, okay?”
He felt a small measure of satisfaction in the notion that he might have seen more disappointment than relief cloud her eyes. And. while he liked thinking that backing away from him was hard for her, it didn’t make it any easier for him to accept what he was giving up. “But if you ever—”
“I won’t,” she said so quickly it made him smile...and wonder again just how badly she’d been burned.
“Fair enough,” he said, but with little heart in it.
So little, that he just had to set her on edge again. Just for a minute. Since he was giving up so much, he figured he owed it to himself to collect at least one thing he’d coaxed her out here to get.
“So...” He adopted a businesslike stance. “Let’s get the negotiations over with and we can get out of here.”
Wary confusion darkened her eyes. She cut him a blank look. “Negotiations?”
“The goat,” he reminded her with a hitch of his chin in the nanny’s direction. “That’s why we’re here, remember? We haven’t come to terms on the ransom.”
Though she considered him through narrowed eyes, he saw the moment she knew what he was up to. Recognized the decision she made to play along, to give him that precious inch he wanted. And he knew it had to do with her sense of fair play. He’d agreed to back off, effectively making her the winner of this s
tandoff, so now she’d decided she could be generous and let him win one, too.
He did love a sense of fair play in a woman.
“Okay, James.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, an action that inadvertently drew his attention there. He stifled a withering groan. “Let’s get this over with. Name your price.”
Holding her gaze with his, he smiled like the wolf he was, and went in for the kill.
“The goat’s yours,” he said, enjoying the setup, “for the price of a kiss.”
She blinked once, dropped her arms, took a step back. “I thought you just said you were backing off.”
Jesse knew she didn’t even realize she’d put distance between them. A protective distance that told him she wasn’t as sold on this noninvolvement issue as she’d like to be.
“Well, I am, darlin’. I am backing off. But I still want that kiss. It shouldn’t be a problem for you,” he reasoned and, playing on the fact that he’d thrown her off guard, took a slow step, closing the gap she’d created “Now that we’ve got all this physical attraction business out in the open and we both know where we stand, it shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Might do us both a world of good to get it out of our systems, don’t you think? Besides...” he added, and offered up a slightly loaded confession, “I’m beginning to think that if I don’t kiss you soon, I’m never going to ride another bull again.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head, then made a sound of disbelief. “That is the lamest line I’ve ever heard. You’re trying to pin your slump on me?”
“Well, shoot, Sloan.” He was teasing now, but wanting to keep her guessing and loving the look of the smile sneaking across her face. As the mood changed, he poured it on thick. “You know better than anyone that bull riders are a superstitious lot. Take D.U., for instance. Never eats chicken on the day of a ride. He’s afraid it’ll make him chicken and he’ll safety up and bail off if the goin’ gets too rough.”
While her eyes were still shot through with fire, a reluctant smile had started to play around the corners of her mouth. And she was so wrapped up in being amused by his nonsense that she didn’t even put up a fuss when he cupped her shoulders in his hands and slowly drew her toward him.
“So now here I am,” he continued, indulging in how solid yet fine-boned she felt beneath his hands, in the summer fragrance of her hair, the rose-petal softness of her skin. “I’m in the worst slump of my career, and somehow, the more I want to kiss you, the worse I ride. Winning’s kinda gotten all wrapped up around that one little issue.”
Lord, she was beautiful by moonlight as she eyed him with an expression caught somewhere between humor and denial, and tried to decide just how hard he was pulling her leg.
“Do you know how pathetic you sound?” she said finally.
He hung his head for effect. “Trust me. I do know. It’s a sad and sorry man who would stoop as low as kidnapping a goat to extort a kiss from a beautiful woman.”
Grinning with a total lack of repentance, he pulled her against him, smooth and easy and as natural as if he did it every night.
He forgot about pretense then. With her generous breasts nestled against his chest, her lean thighs brushing against his, he thought about only one thing. “I want that kiss, country girl. That’s my price. And I mean to collect it.”
An arresting little tattoo of a pulse beat thrummed rapidly at the hollow of her throat, but still, she fought the fight. “You realize you’re ruining your bad reputation, begging this way.”
He just smiled, as fascinated by her resistance as he was by the sensuous curve of her upper lip. “And you’re still running, darlin’. So let me tell you how it’s going to be.”
Looping his arms low at the small of her back, he tugged her along until his hips connected with a boulder. Pulling her with him, he leaned back against it. “I’m going to kiss you because I want to. And, I’m going to kiss you because you want me to. No... No, wait. Don’t go getting your tail in a knot. Just listen for a minute and you’ll see the sense of it.”
“Oh, good. Now you’re going to make sense.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he pressed on. “Now, since we just decided that we aren’t going to get involved, and since I aim to have that kiss, and—” He held up a finger to stall her when she opened her mouth to protest. “Since we both know a kiss is as far as it will go, let’s just relax and enjoy it.”
She angled her head, still wanting to fight him. Wanting to laugh now, too. And wanting, he was betting, to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss her.
“I’m curious—does this line of bull usually work?”
He chuckled and wrapped her snug against him. “I guess we’ll both find out real soon.”
He held her that way for a moment before slipping his hands down to cover hers, then pulling them up between their bodies. Watching her face, he uncurled her fingers one by one, laid them flat against his chest where his heart beat hard with the sudden want of her.
“Just go with it,” he murmured, his smile slowly fading, his eyes darkening, as he slid his hand down the slim length of her back, spread his fingers wide against the fragile framework of her ribs.
“Just a kiss between friends,” he whispered, lowering his mouth close to hers. “Come on, darlin’,” he all but groaned as her breasts brushed his chest and turned him into one hard, poised muscle. “Show a little mercy.”
The expression in her eyes was tentative, just this side of denial, just this side of surrender as she slowly tilted her mouth to his. “Well, since you beg so nice...”
It was as much of a concession as he needed. He cut off her words with a growl and covered her mouth with his. And then he drowned in the tastes and sensations that he’d craved for what seemed like forever, and for the moment, was finally his for the taking.
She was cool silk that heated to a warm rich velvet. She was a whispered wish that exceeded even his sweetest, darkest dreams. And she was as taken off guard as he was by the way the kiss transitioned from a friendly and playful negotiation to a sumptuous feast of sensations.
Flavors too delicious not to savor drugged him to want more; textures too exotic not to explore dragged him deeper into the wonder that was her mouth opening beneath his and welcoming him inside.
He tangled his hands in that glorious fall of hair, wrapped himself around her long, lush length and sampled more of her with his tongue Touched more of her with his hands. All heat, all energy, her skin was satin smooth and sizzling hot when he tunneled a hand up and under her loose shirt to press her closer against him.
A rich, carnal craving stole over him like thick fog when there was finally nothing between his hands and her skin but heat. An awareness of that heat and his needs tumbled him over the edge of temptation to a wild, consuming desire. He groaned into her mouth when she took the fall with him, clinging to his shoulders, arching against him, open and giving and moving to the restless rhythm his straining body set.
“Sweet, sweet Lord,” he growled when he finally dragged his mouth from hers and, with one hand still tangled in her hair, tipped back his head and tucked her face against his neck.
His heart drummed like thunder, did battle with the unsteady hammer of hers slamming against his chest. The slim curves of her body trembled even as she gathered herself and tried to push out of his arms.
He held her fast, fought to catch his breath. “Not yet. Just...just hold on a second.”
When he thought he could risk it, he let out a great gust of air. With reluctant resolve and unsteady hands, he set her slowly away. Slower still, he tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
“Talk about a wild ride.” He managed to take a shallow breath and worked hard to level a smile through an unsettling feeling that no woman before her had ever turned him inside out this way—at least not with something as elemental as a kiss.
Only this hadn’t felt elemental. Not to him. Not to her, either, if the
flush that stained her cheeks was any indication He wasn’t the only one having trouble coming back down to earth. Clearly, though, it was going to have to be him to plant both feet on the ground again and rake in a little perspective.
“For a mercy kiss,” he finally uttered with a lopsided grin, hoping to break the tension, “that was a beaut.”
That little bit of foolishness finally made her smile. And her sassy, if shaky comeback finally allowed him a deep breath. “Yeah, well, don’t think there’s another one where that came from.”
Thank God, he thought with equal measures of relief and disappointment. He was a man who prided himself on control, but he didn’t think control was an option if they went back for another round.
He shook his head to clear it, set his hat right and made a decision on the spot. He had to get away from her—fast—before he went down on his knees beneath that big Wyoming moon, said to hell with his promise to leave her alone, and begged for a little more of her brand of mercy.
Five
When Jesse decided to do something, he did it in a big way. He didn’t just get away from Sloan. The next morning, he hightailed it clean out of the state and headed down to southern Colorado for a week-long competition. Then he motored on down to Texas and picked up some more points at a big PBR event in Houston. Now, with those rodeos behind him, he was steering the pickup down a long stretch of highway toward Jackson Hole and a quick trip home.
It was a bright, starlit September night. Other than D.U.’s soft snores from the passenger seat beside him, the low country beat from the radio and the whine of tires on asphalt was his only company. The road time gave him some room to reflect, sort through his thoughts—much like he’d done a couple of weeks ago, the morning after he’d stolen that bombshell of a kiss from Sloan.
He’d taken a long, hard look at himself that morning, done some big-time regrouping and decided to put a little distance between himself and that siren of a stock contractor with her mouth made for kissing and her body made for loving. And eyes—eyes that could make a man want to look far beyond their dark, beckoning depths and probe the secrets behind them.