by Nancy Martin
The blanket was relatively comfortable, Hank decided, and sitting next to Carly was exactly the way he’d prefer to spend the afternoon. He unwrapped their lunch and tried to keep his gaze from devouring her instead of the food. He was suddenly quite hungry.
“I hope you don’t mind my choice for lunch,” Carly said. “I made sandwiches from what I could find in the kitchen. There were olives in the fridge. Do you suppose Becky was saving them for a special occasion? I love olives. And there’s hot coffee, too.”
“You are a saint,” Hank said, unwrapping the olives from plastic wrap and offering some to her. The ripe black olives had come to the ranch in Hank’s suitcase from his favorite deli in Seattle, and he couldn’t imagine a more special occasion to celebrate their deliciousness. He helped himself when Carly began popping her share into her mouth one by one. She moaned with happiness as the flavor exploded in her mouth, and he couldn’t help smiling at her pleasure. He asked, “Beer or coffee with this feast?”
She shared his smile, still savoring the olives. “I rarely drink beer, but somehow it’s right here. Let’s save the coffee for later, shall we?”
The beer wasn’t quite cold, but the sandwiches were perfect—slices of Becky’s own smoked turkey on whole wheat bread with lettuce, mayo and a hint of dill. Hank’s estimation of Carly’s character rose even higher. A woman who knew how to make a good sandwich was worth ten who could prepare an elaborate dinner party.
Carly fed a bite to the pup, and it immediately began nosing around for more food. It ate a whole sandwich with quick dispatch, then plunked down on the blanket and licked its chops as if complimenting the chef. A moment later it flopped down and prepared to go to sleep.
Obviously Hank soon felt the same way—sated and appreciative. He took off his hat and lounged back on one elbow to finish his beer and enjoy the sunshine and radiating heat of the fire.
Carly ruffled the wolf’s fur, but found herself staring at Hank instead. He looked at ease and contented, stretched out on the blanket with the beer bottle cradled against his chest. The picture of a sexy man at rest.
At last she ventured to say, “This would be the ideal moment to take those preliminary photographs.
He opened one eye to look at her. “Sorry to disappoint you, but your cameras were in Buttercup’s saddlebags. They’re probably back at the ranch by now.”
She sighed. “Darn. You look perfect right now.”
He snorted a laugh and closed his eyes again. “I can’t figure out why you’d pick me of all people for this calendar thing.”
“Because you’re—well, you’re a normal guy who happens to be very appealing to women. You’re not plastic or—well, you don’t look as if you spend all your spare time at the gym admiring your pecs in the mirror. You’re just sexier than most.”
“I am, huh? You’re the first to notice.”
Carly shook her head. “I’m sure I’m not the first.”
“Okay, maybe not. But I’m not exactly fighting off the opposite sex all the time.”
“Because you live out here in the middle of nowhere,” Carly guessed.
“That’s not it.”
“You don’t think you’re an attractive man?”
He grinned. “Let’s just say I’m hard to get along with.”
Carly found herself intrigued. She was glad he had his eyes closed against the sunlight, because she wanted to absorb everything about him just then. “Why are you hard to get along with?”
He shrugged and tried to think of a way to explain himself without going into detail about his double life—that of a responsible journalist with deadlines to keep and his other half—the outdoorsman who enjoyed his free time. Most women had a hard time keeping his two halves straight.
One former girlfriend had said succinctly, “You only want a part-time lover, Henry.”
She’d been right, he thought. Any woman who wanted to be with Henry Fowler had to have a life of her own. She couldn’t depend upon him to provide constant attention and entertainment. He was too busy.
Carefully he said, “I like having things my own way. And I’m getting too old to be flexible.”
“You’re spoiled.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”
“That’s why you’re not married?”
“I’ve come close,” he said. “A couple of times. But...”
“What happened?”
“Oh, nothing unusual. Everybody has different expectations. I guess my former girlfriends have been disappointed when I didn’t measure up.”
“In bed, you mean?”
“No, no. Sex is always good,” he said with another grin. He was surprised at Carly’s line of questioning, but plunged ahead with his answer. “Sometimes it’s fabulous. No, it’s the emotional stuff that’s complicated. I’ve been grown-up a long time, and I’m not looking for a mother. I enjoy being with women who are independent and don’t fuss over me all the—” He caught himself and opened his eyes. “Why am I talking about myself again?”
“Because I’m interested. Let’s get back to the fabulous part again.”
With a laugh he asked, “Are you thinking about fabulous sex every time you make a calendar?”
“I try to,” Carly said honestly. “It’s harder than you imagine. I have to think about what other women want when I plan a calendar. Hiring the models, arranging the shots, setting up—it makes me weary sometimes. Bringing all those female fantasies to life is hard work.”
By that, his attention was aroused completely. “What kinds of female fantasies? You mean firefighters wielding their big axes and wearing no shirts?”
“Sure,” she said on a laugh. “And our police officer calendar sold well.”
“Did they carry big nightsticks and take off their shirts?”
“You bet.”
“What about the cowboy calendar? I’m supposed to carry a big gun and take off my shirt, huh?”
“It’s not just a matter of props and missing clothing,” Carly corrected. “There has to be a certain look in a man’s eye.”
“What does a cop’s eye look like?”
“Tough. Dangerous. Like he’s thinking about arresting someone.”
“And a firefighter?”
“Noble. He’s about to run out and rescue little children from burning buildings, you know. But he also has to look a little dangerous, too.”
“Dangerous seems to be a theme. And what kind of look is the cowboy supposed to have in his eye?”
“I don’t know exactly. But you have it right now. What are you thinking about?”
Hank never hesitated. “I’m thinking I’ve never seen a woman look so sexy in her underwear.”
Carly laughed and felt herself turn hot. “What else are you thinking?”
“That I’d like to be kissing her right now,” he replied steadily.
Carly took a deep breath and looked deeply into his glowing blue gaze. She couldn’t hold back an answering smile and thought that sometimes a girl just had to take matters into her own hands. Or lips.
She leaned toward Hank, then hesitated. For an instant she wondered what his kiss might taste like, but then suddenly she knew. He met her halfway. He was warm and sweet and delicious, and Carly wanted the moment to last at least an hour.
But she pulled back and blinked into his eyes, wondering if she was crazy or just temporarily insane. Carly Cortazzo didn’t do this sort of thing—take off her clothes and eat a picnic in her underwear as calmly as you please, then start kissing a man she’d known only a day.
“I...I’m sorry,” she murmured, staring into his eyes with something like terror welling up inside herself. “I’m not usually like this.”
“Like what?”
“Reckless and—well, impatient.”
Hank didn’t seem to have any such reservations. In another moment, he wound his hand around the nape of her neck and sank his fingers into her hair as if enjoying its silky texture. Pulling gently, he drew Carly’
s mouth against his own once again. The contact was firmer this time, more intense. He made a noise in the back of his throat—not a groan exactly, but a sound of pleasure. It made Carly melt inside, and her lips turned pliant against his.
As a rush of erotic sensations grew inside her, Carly wrapped one slim arm around his neck and found herself pressing up against the soft flannel of his shirt. She could feel his heart beating against hers. His breath was deep and even—counterpointing her own increasingly breathless state. Then Hank swiped his tongue along her lower lip in a wonderfully casual exploration that caused Carly to shudder with anticipation.
A heartbeat later he was kissing her throat, her neck, her bare shoulder. Somehow her bra strap was sliding off into oblivion, and Carly found herself holding on to Hank just to stay on earth.
“Oh, boy,” she began to chant mindlessly. “Oh, boy, oh, boy...”
“Too fast,” Hank responded hoarsely, lips against her bare skin. “I know it’s too fast. We’d better stop.”
“We’d better,” Carly agreed, her head tilted up to the sky and her mind swimming in the clouds. “But don’t. Don’t stop. Not yet.”
“You’re delicious,” he murmured. “I love your skin. So soft.”
Beneath the flannel of his shirt, Carly could feel the contour of Hank’s shoulders, his strong arms, his chest. The suggestion of taut, smooth muscles tempted her fingertips. His shirt buttons came unfastened slowly, and Hank made no move to stop her progress.
His thumb swiped deliberately across her breast instead, and Carly couldn’t hold back a gasp. “This is crazy. I don’t do this kind of thing!”
“Not ever?”
“Well, I mean—oh, that’s so good—I’m not a teenager anymore. I don’t go jumping into bed with men at the drop of—oh, Hank.”
“I don’t jump, either,” he murmured, finding another spot to nibble behind her ear. “Not like this. I’m usually a cautious person.”
“Me, too. I don’t—don’t even know you, but—”
“Look, I know this is awkward, but I’m healthy.” Hank pulled back and met Carly’s gaze squarely. “I mean, I’m okay, Carly. I get checkups every year and all the tests are routine nowadays.”
“I hate talking about this. You’re the first man I’ve ever known to bring it up on his own.”
“I guess I’ve learned to overcome the embarrassment.”
“I’m impressed. And glad. I’m careful, too.” She smiled, suddenly glad she had found a man she could actually say these things to without humiliation.
Laying her cards on the table with Hank felt right. Without taking her eyes from his, Carly managed to slip his shirt off at last. Next she began to roll up the hem of the T-shirt he wore underneath. With one hand, she found the bare skin of his chest and slid her fingers through the crisp hair. “My doctor is very thorough, but I don’t really do things that could get me into trouble in the first place.”
“Me, neither.”
“But you’re—this is different for me. Are we being stupid?”
“Maybe.” He used one finger to slide her other bra strap out of the way.
“Should we stop?”
“Maybe,” he said again, but pressed another kiss on her shoulder.
“I—I don’t really want to.”
By himself, Hank finished the job of peeling off his T-shirt. Their skin felt electnc as they rubbed together in the cool air.
“Thing is,” he said roughly, “I didn’t exactly come prepared. I mean, I didn’t expect to end up like this with you and I didn’t bring anything—”
“Damn,” said Carly, both hands smoothing along his bare chest. “Me, neither.”
“We should wait.”
“But—”
“Yes?”
“I can’t wait.”
Hank rolled and pinned Carly gently to the blanket, managing to unfasten her bra with one hand. “I guess,” he whispered against her mouth, “we’ll have to get creative.”
“Oh,” Carly whispered, already drowning in exquisite sensations. “Sounds fabulous.”
Five
Hours later—or perhaps it was days for all Hank could remember—the fire in his belly burned hotter than ever before, while the fire he’d built with a few pieces of wood had burned down to nothing but smoldering ashes.
With Carly’s slim legs entwined with his and her soft curves snuggled up against his harder ones, Hank tried to remember if he’d ever gotten to know a woman’s body more intimately than hers without actually climaxing together.
They’d spent the day necking like excited teenagers, then delved into more adult pleasures. Only the strongest part of his character had prevented Hank from tossing caution to the wind and making fierce love with her.
Carly was...erotic, he mused. He hadn’t expected the abandon she’d shared with him. Every inch of her skin had been responsive to his caresses. Every secret place had enticed his touch. He had tasted every inch of her. Remembering the cries that he’d wrenched from Carly just by teasing her with hands and lips, Hank smothered a smile. She was so responsive—quick to arouse and eager to reciprocate.
She’d known her own pleasure, too, while managing to torment Hank to the brink of ecstasy and back again.
He flushed hot at the memory of what she’d done to him during the course of their endless afternoon. She had imagination and no misgivings.
Yet he hadn’t given in to the instinct that would make her his completely. Not quite.
Her sweet-smelling hair tickled his nose, and he blew a long breath down the warm column of her throat. He stroked his fingertips down the curve of her hip and thought about how easy it would be to coax her thighs apart and press her down into the blanket to seek the heat at the center of her body.
He felt himself react to the idea, growing tight with desire once again. She was a sexy lady, all right. But there was something more about Carly that appealed to Hank. Her easy laugh was contagious. The sparkle in her eyes made him smile. Her willingness to trust him, to allow Hank to touch her in ways he hadn’t really thought of until he’d found himself naked with her—he’d been delighted by that. She trusted him.
But he was lying to her.
If she’d been awake just then, Hank might have spilled the beans about himself. He wasn’t the cowboy she thought he was. He was just plain old Henry—a guy from Seattle who took pleasure in many things, but not horses or cattle or whatever romantic notions she imagined in him.
What would she do if he told her the truth?
Probably murder you, he thought suddenly. A wry grin twisted his mouth.
Oh, Carly was a handful, all nght. He had a feeling her many passions could include towering rage if she learned she was being duped.
In his arms Carly sighed again and turned a little so that Hank’s palm ended up cupping her breast. She smiled and blinked sleepily awake. Her face was still flushed with pleasure, her eyes smoky when they found him half smiling down at her. “Did I fall asleep?”
“It was exhaustion, I think.”
“You feel anything but exhausted.” Her hand brushed between them and encountered his arousal. She caressed him lightly, looking up into his eyes with a seductive expression growing in her own.
“Are we starting all over again?” Hank asked, tightening in her grasp.
“And again and again.”
She began to slide down his body, obviously ready to take him into her mouth again. With more willpower that he knew he had, Hank stopped Carly. Gently he drew her up until their noses were touching. Her breasts were snug against his chest, the nipples boring hot spots into his skin. The sensation made him crazy. But he managed to say quite calmly, “Carly, there’s something we should discuss.”
“I know, I know.” She played her nose around his. “I have just what we need back at the ranch in my luggage.”
“What do you mean?”
“My diaphragm, for one thing. And at least one condom, if we’re lucky.”
�
��That’s not what I—”
She reached down and stroked him intimately, causing Hank to catch his breath and forget everything but her fingertips. Huskily she said, “I want everything this time.”
“Yes,” he said, unable to think about anything but the heavenly way she was touching him. “Yes, that’s what I want, too.”
She sat up, straddling Hank’s hips and letting the fading sunlight pour down over her breasts and belly. She continued to caress him, making Hank go dizzy with desire. He closed his eyes and could hardly hear her words when she said, “We’ll have to go back to civilization first, I’m afraid.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Right now?”
He was drowning in erotic sensations. “Well, not this minute, perhaps.”
“Becky will be disappointed we didn’t find the stray cattle.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
Carly sighed and snuggled down on top of him again. “That’s one of the things I like about you men of the West.”
Hank opened his eyes at that. “What?”
“You haven’t let the real world make you nuts.”
“I haven’t?”
“You’re spontaneous. I really like that about you, Hank. You’re natural. Out here in the wild, open spaces with you—I’m a different woman.”
“Uh, different from what?”
“The way I am in L.A. You don’t know how important that is to me right now. My responsibilities don’t feel so boring. The same old job isn’t the focus of every waking moment. Here I can be free, just like you.”
“Well, I’m not completely free.”
“You know what I mean.”
Holding her, Hank considered the situation. If he hadn’t been in such a vulnerable position, he might have confessed everything to Carly just then. But he felt sure she was going to be angry.
And maybe disappointed.
Carefully he asked, “It sounds as if you’re under a lot of pressure in L.A.”
“Yes, but pressure doesn’t bother me. I love working. I need deadlines and getting out to meet people. I just—well, lately I feel as if I’m not being creative anymore. I need a new outlet, I guess. I’m ready for a change.”