The Courting Cowboy

by Tara Janzen

  “I still missed you,” he said. “Come on. I want you to meet Lacey Kidder, the lady who canned the peaches and beans.”

  Lacey? He hadn’t mentioned having other guests, and certainly not another female guest. Victoria let him take her coat at the front door while she tried to peer into the kitchen, where Corey was talking to somebody. She felt something beyond curiosity, something akin to jealousy, which made her feel something akin to ridiculous. Of her own free will she’d terminated any possible rights she might have acquired in that direction.

  She and Ty were going to be friends. Friends met their friend’s friends. She took a deep, calming breath and readied herself to meet Lacey.

  Ty stopped breathing altogether, his gaze fixed on her bosom. If the dress gave up and split a seam somewhere, he wasn’t going to be responsible for himself. It was amazing to him, but she seemed as unaware of the provocativeness of her Chinese dress as she’d been of the ugliness of her other clothes.

  “Sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy. Chow’s on ! Come and get it!” The cry came from the kitchen.

  Victoria glanced at Ty with a questioning look. “Is that ranching slang? A high numerical countdown to a meal?”

  “No, honey.” He chuckled. “That’s just Lacey counting off the dim sum and her poker debt. We negotiated down to a dollar a piece.”

  The information was cryptic and interesting, but not nearly as interesting as being called “honey.” In her life, endearments had been rarer than friends her own age. First a kiss and then being called honey. Friendship with Ty Garrett was going to prove to be a rather intimate affair. Surprisingly, she wasn’t put off by the possibility.

  His home had a very lived-in look. Every piece of furniture appeared lovingly used and cared for, but worn. Not all of the upholstery matched, but neither was it discordant. The soft brown and gold plaid on the couch mixed with equally faded yellow-and-rust-colored flowers in one of the chairs. The rocker cushions were navy blue, as was a small throw rug situated in front of the hearth.

  The house itself was in the ranch style, with everything on one floor. From the outside she’d thought it had a sprawling appearance. The inside confirmed her opinion. The rooms flowed into one another off either side of the main living area. The most intriguing room at the moment was the kitchen.

  Ty led her there, holding her hand. She allowed the contact, realizing she would have to talk to him about it later. She couldn’t recall having met anyone who liked to touch her so much. At the same time, she couldn’t recall having met anyone whom she liked touching her so much. They obviously had a few problems to work out if they were going to remain friends.

  In the kitchen pandemonium reigned. Food and packages and utensils were strewn over a work area three times the size of the counter in her rented house. The sink was full of dishes, and pots were bubbling and steaming on the stove. In the middle of all the chaos was an island of serenity, the kitchen table laden with platters of the delicately arranged and decorated dim sum. Four plates had been set out with chopsticks, and beside each plate were tiny serving dishes of Chinese hot mustard and what had to be the apricot sauce for dipping the spring rolls.

  Victoria was intrigued by the smells wafting up from the table, as well as appreciative of all the work involved in creating such miniature masterpieces, but her attention was captured by the woman overseeing the feast. Of above-average height and a bit rounded, with a braided crown of gray and blond hair, she was most definitely elderly—past her sixties, Victoria supposed—yet there was a youthful gleam in her pale blue eyes, a very non-sedate pack of cigarettes in her breast pocket, an incongruous lace collar on her blue workshirt, a snappy crease in her faded and worn jeans, and big gold hoops in her ears.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Lacey Kidder, and you must be the Miss Willoughby I’ve been hearing so much about.” Her voice was all business and gravelly, and she strode forward with a purposeful step and a jingle and a jangle. She took Victoria’s hand and gave it a good shake.

  “Call me Victoria, please.” Victoria’s gaze dropped to the woman’s footwear and her eyes widened. She was sure she’d never had a Chinese meal prepared by someone wearing spurs on her boots. The West was possibly wilder than she’d thought.

  “I don’t usually wear spurs in the house,” Lacey said, catching the direction of her look and slanting their host a wry, sidelong glance. “But Ty was in an all-fire hurry about this supper. Said it was real important. Said it had to be dim sum. Said he’d cancel a seventy-dollar poker debt if I would get my . . . uh, posterior over here right away. Sort of on the spur of the moment, you might say.” A full-throated, husky chuckle followed the pun.

  Seventy pieces of dim sum at a dollar a piece equaled a seventy-dollar poker debt. Without a doubt it was the most interesting dinner arrangement Victoria had ever been involved in.

  “It smells lovely and looks divine,” she said. Surveying the dinner table, she wondered exactly how someone in spurs had learned the fine art of making dim sum, complete with tiny decorations made out of vegetables.

  “Well, lookin’ good is fine as far as it goes, but let’s get at it while it’s hot.” Lacey pulled out a chair and sat down, and everybody followed suit, with Ty holding Victoria’s chair for her.

  Corey noticed the gesture and grinned at Lacey. Lacey noticed and grinned at Ty, and as far as Victoria could tell, he ignored both of them.

  “So tell me, Victoria, do you play poker?” Lacey asked as she picked out an array of food and placed the pieces on her plate. The table was small enough that they all could help themselves, and they did.

  “No. I never have. My husband wasn’t much for playing card games, or games of any sort, really.” With a dexterity she was relieved she hadn’t lost, Victoria picked up a scallion cake with her chopsticks and set it on her plate. Then she reached for a spring roll. “We did have a chess set, but Charles took chess far too seriously for me to categorize his interest as a game.” She lifted a shrimp ball to her mouth.

  “Charles was a brilliant scholar,” Ty said. “He took everything seriously. He wasn’t fun—”

  Victoria choked on the shrimp ball and had to be patted on the back. Ty was very gentle as he continued.

  “—wasn’t fun the way you are, Lacey, and probably not as dangerous either. Are you okay?” he asked Victoria. When she nodded, he gave her a word of advice. “The shrimp toast has the same spices and don’t ever play poker with Lacey.”

  “You play with her and have apparently done quite well,” Victoria said when she could. For a moment she’d been sure he was going to reveal part of the previous evening’s intimate conversation. She was relieved he had once again proved to be a gentleman above reproach.

  “We kept it penny ante until I was twenty-one,” he said, “and by then I was on to all her tricks. The seventy dollars was a stroke of luck, double or nothing on a cut of the cards.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Victoria,” Lacey said. “We girls could stick together and end up owning this ranch, lock, stock, and barrel.”

  Corey giggled into his plate and used his fingers to snatch a wonton off a platter. Lacey bopped him with her chopsticks, but he only grinned and popped the morsel into his mouth.

  “I have to say you’re doing a fine job with this boy,” the older woman continued. “He tells me you’ve got him doing extra mathematics and writing to keep his science up to snuff.”

  It was a subject dear to Victoria’s heart. “I believe all the disciplines are dependent upon one another. I’m trying to work with the other teachers to coordinate our subject matter and curriculum. My father never gave me a lesson that didn’t include writing. He always wanted reports. He was quite strict about his requirements for a completed assignment, but I know the extra hours of composition helped me greatly when I went on to college, and later when I started writing grants.”

  “Sounds like a schoolteacher all right,” the older woman said in an approving tone. “What about your mother? What did
she teach you?”

  “Nothing of a purely practical nature. She died when I was young.”

  “Can you cook?” Lacey asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Faced with Lacey’s culinary wonders, it was as much skill as Victoria dared to claim.

  “Never had children myself, but I was married once.” Lacey reached for another dumpling. “Then you take Ty here, who kind of got the cart before the horse. I’ve been thinking lately that he could use a wife. What do you think?”

  Ty thought Lacey’s bluntness was getting out of hand.

  Victoria didn’t know what to think.

  “Marriage is a complicated relationship,” she said, attempting diplomacy. “Certainly not one to take lightly.”

  “Walter and I took it quite lightly, dear, and remained gloriously in love until he died in the war. Young people today tippy-toe around it too much, trying to see if they’re compatible, testing the waters long after they’ve used all the water up, if you know what I mean.”

  Victoria was quite sure she didn’t know what Lacey meant.

  Ty knew, but he didn’t think an explanation was in order.

  “Dad can cook real good,” Corey piped up. “And he’s got lots of water rights. Enough to run this place and keep hay in the south pasture.”

  “It’s a nice spread,” Lacey added with a chuckle. “Not too far from town. What town there is, anyway. But a woman can get used to simpler comforts. Corey tells me you’ve been doing research on the prairie.”

  “Grasslands are my area of interest,” Victoria said, beginning to understand where the conversation was heading.

  “Well, then, you’d fit in real well now, wouldn’t you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Victoria didn’t answer. An hour later, the only thing Lacey didn’t know about her was her shoe size. Ty had headed off some of the more personal questions, but by the end of the meal Victoria felt thoroughly interviewed. Even more surprising, she felt as if she’d passed with flying colors. It was a shame she wasn’t looking for the job.

  A damn shame, she thought. She liked Ty’s friends, she liked his son, and she liked him a lot. And those kisses of his, they made her feel alive. Her biggest regret of the previous evening was that she’d managed to talk and talk until she’d talked herself out of ever receiving another of his elaborate kisses. She needed to get her priorities straight. She really did.

  “Corey is going to ride home with me and look at that new batch of pups,” Lacey said as she tossed down her napkin and stood up. “I don’t think we mentioned anything about cleanup in the deal.”

  “I’ll handle the cleanup,” Ty said. “You did a great job on the meal, Lacey. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”

  “My pleasure. I’d be happy to do it again if another special occasion should arise,” she said, a not-so-subtle twinkle in her eye. “It was nice meeting you, Victoria.”

  “Nice meeting you too, Lacey. The dinner was wonderful.”

  In short order, Lacey and Corey had saddled up and literally ridden off into the sunset, Lacey’s place being a half mile to the west of the Sky Canyon Ranch. That left Ty and Victoria very much alone on the front porch and, as the seconds ticked by in silence, very much aware of each other.

  Victoria cleared her throat and fiddled with the placket on her jacket.

  Ty stood by her side and casually slipped his arm around her waist.

  Corey turned in the saddle and waved, and the two of them waved back. The seconds ticked by.

  “It was a lovely dinner,” Victoria murmured into the silence.

  “So is your dress lovely,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.” The silk was soft and supple under his hand, the curve of her waist enticing, fitted to his palm with perfection. He took a deep breath and looked down at her.

  In the next second she looked up and met his gaze, her lips softly parted, and he was lost.

  Nine

  Ty lowered his head and angled his mouth over hers, tightening his hold on her waist and pulling her into his arms at the same time. His other hand slid up a smooth expanse of curve-hugging silk, over her hip and up the side of her dress until her breast was in his palm. He groaned into her mouth and crushed her against him.

  Victoria felt a moment’s shock, then a glorious sense of reprieve. She would have her kiss after all. But it was more than a kiss, and even in her inexperience she recognized the changing intensity of his desire when he touched her. His hand scorched her through the silk, the heat stealing her breath and her will. She had no chance to resist, to fortify herself against his need. His arms were around her, his passion consuming her.

  Ty plundered and teased her mouth, knowing he was treading dangerously close to the point of no return. But she was soft and yielding in his arms, taking every nuance of his kiss and returning it. Finally, he’d broken through her defenses. Finally, he was doing something right, and he wasn’t about to stop. Not yet.

  He slipped his hand back down her body, pressing her against him, allowing himself one breathtaking instant of grinding his hips against her. Pleasure shot through him with sizzling intensity, short-circuiting any connection between his brain and his groin and pulling his hips back to hers again and again until things were completely out of hand. He had her backed up against the house, half against the door, his mouth hot and wet and all over her, his hand sliding through the slit in her dress to caress her thigh.

  Despite what Victoria had thought, passion was not an emotion much within her experience. She was overwhelmed, and if she had been able to think, she would have agreed with Ty that her previous indiscretion had been a light thing indeed.

  Ty Garrett was no young man of twenty-four, and he was no old man. What he wanted, he took—because he was able to make her want to give. Whatever magic was possible between a man and a woman, he ignited within her. She ran her hand around his neck, feeling the strength in his jaw as he kissed her and kept on kissing her deeply, with a carnal tenderness unlike anything she had ever known.

  Her response was uncontrollable. It flowed out of her naturally, in the ease with which she lifted herself deeper into his kiss, the sensual delight she took in living out her fantasies of tasting his mouth and feeling his teeth slide beneath her tongue. It was heavenly, the freedom and the desire. He was so strong and hard. He wanted her so much, and his wants worked upon her like an aphrodisiac of unfathomed potency.

  She clung to him, needing more, and Ty was ready to give it to her. Everything. He’d been ready for a week and a half, ten long nights of dreaming of having her warm and willing, of having her ready to take all of him and be taken in turn.

  “Excuse me, Dad, Miss Willoughby.” A small form brushed by them.

  Ty froze stiff.

  “Don’t mind me,” Corey called over his shoulder as he went inside the house. “Lacey sent me back to get her coat.”

  Behind him, Ty heard the soft nickering of a horse. He looked down at Victoria and found her staring over his shoulder in disbelief. He was completely sympathetic with her expression. He couldn’t believe it either, that they hadn’t heard the horse and rider approaching. Ty was especially amazed because he knew Corey’s favorite gear on a horse was a full-out gallop.

  “You were wrong,” she whispered, easing away from him.

  “Wrong?” He didn’t want her to go, but neither could he argue the point or plead his case with his son coming back any minute.

  She straightened her little silk jacket without looking up at him. “I do recognize licentious behavior when it falls out of the sky and lands on a front porch. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll get my coat too.”

  “Victoria, I—” He reached for her, but Corey was already coming back out the door. He had to let her go.

  “Sorry, Dad,” his son said under his breath. “Lacey and I didn’t think you’d get a signal quite so quick. She’s gonna be madder’n a wet hen when I tell her.”

  “Corey, no. I don’t want you�
��” He was talking to his son but watching Victoria, and she was already hauling her coat out of the closet.

  “It’s okay, Dad. Do you want me to stay at Lacey’s tonight?”

  That got Ty’s attention. He swiveled around to stare at his son. The facts of life were kind of hard to miss on a ranch, but Ty thought he was going to have to have a talk with Lacey.

  “No, Corey. It’s a school night and you have to—”

  “Thank you for the dinner.” Victoria rushed out the door, half in and half out of her big brown coat.

  “Victoria, please wait.” She was already down the steps and heading for her car. Ty turned to Corey. “Stay put.”

  He took off after her, his long strides enabling him to catch her before she got her car door shut.

  “Victoria, please.” He grabbed the top of the door and ducked down to talk to her. “Can’t you stay awhile longer?”

  He was pleading, almost on his knees, and he wished he had more experience to keep himself from looking like an idiot.

  “I can’t, really.” She started the car and gave the engine some gas, warming it up.

  He didn’t understand.

  “Maybe we should talk before you go running off.” He was sure they should at least talk.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She put the car in gear, and the door shifted under his hand.

  He had a choice: He could let her go, or he could stay put and get dragged down the road. Fortunately for his physical well-being, he had some pride left.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, leaving the emotional doors open even as he closed the door on the car. He stepped back and watched her leave in a cloud of dust.

  He’d scared her off, of that he had no doubt. He’d come on too strong, moved way too fast. He’d liked it though, liked it a lot. And she’d liked it too. A grin found its way onto his face. She’d liked it a lot.

  * * *

  Victoria was mortified. Corey had brought her another jar of Lacey’s spiced peaches that morning, and it had taken every chin-lifting corpuscle in her body to accept it without dying a thousand deaths of pure embarrassment. His attitude toward her had remained completely normal, as if he hadn’t caught her and his father in the most compromising clinch of her life.