by Caro LaFever
“No.” With another quick move that shocked her, both of his hands slid along her cheeks, brushing her hair away from her face. Keeping one hand on top of the strands, he lifted the helmet again and plopped it on her head. “There. Now it fits perfectly.”
She gave him a good glare. “It fit before.”
“It did not.” As if she were a child, he snapped the strap under her chin. “There. You’re ready to go.”
Flustered at his care of her and furious at his audacity, she scowled. “I don’t think I want to go with you—”
Ducking closer, he kissed her on her nose.
Her words trailed off, along with her thoughts. She gaped at him in surprise.
A grin slid across his lips as he swung his leg over the bike and sat. “I got my kiss, finally.”
“That’s the only one you’re going to get,” she sputtered.
“We’ll see.” Sliding his own helmet on, he reached back and patted the end of the tan leather seat. “Climb on. We’re wasting the day.”
For a second, she balked. There was her fear of this man’s beauty, her worry about the secret deal that must exist, and then, his way of arrogantly tying her in knots without really trying.
He glanced at her as his cowboy boot punched the kickstand off the street. “You coming with me, Jessie?”
His celestial eyes dared her with their brilliant blue. His mouth quirked like he didn’t believe she’d take the challenge. His hands tightened on the handles.
The engine roared to life.
“Yes, I’m coming with you,” she said softly. So softly he couldn’t have heard the words over the loud rumble of the engines.
But he heard her, nevertheless. Perhaps he read her lips or understood her expression, because he smiled his true smile.
Jess threw her leg across the bike, and sidled close behind him.
“Put your arms around my waist,” he ordered.
Making a face at his continued arrogance, she slid her arms around him, plastering her front to his back. She felt the heat of his body through the jean jacket, the cotton T-shirt, her leather coat, and her skin. Her heartbeat roared to life, matching the motorcycle’s throbbing engine.
The bike jerked forward before zooming down the casino’s circular driveway and onto the Las Vegas Boulevard. Dry wind and dust whipped into her eyes and mouth, and Jess could feel her hair slapping on the leather of her borrowed coat. The stark change, the amazing difference of this experience compared to her usual life, vibrated inside her like a strong, sure call.
A call of the wild, a call of the wicked.
Nick picked up their speed, taking advantage of the early morning’s light traffic. Darting past one car after another, he skillfully zig-zagged around every vehicle.
She edged closer, her heart racing with fear and delight, her hands clasping his body, her thighs squeezing alongside his to keep safe.
Within a few minutes, they’d left the city behind, taking the highway out into the Nevada desert. Jess didn’t drive much to begin with, she usually took the limo to their hotel and stayed put while she worked. She rarely looked through the window to take in sights she’d grown up with. There was invariably a phone call to take or an argument to have with her father.
She loved this.
Loved the wind on her face and the heat of the motor beneath her and the wide-open spaces encircling them.
He’d been right.
She did like this.
More than that. She loved it.
“You all right back there?” he threw the yell over his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m great,” she called, tightening her arms around him in reassurance.
The bike trailed up and down the long, waving hills of the land for miles. Tucking her head behind Nick’s broad back, she watched the desert roll by. The stark beauty hit her, just as this man’s had every time she saw him. In some strange way, the scenery reminded her of him.
Bold and fearless.
Dynamic and forceful.
They rocketed through a valley pass, vivid rocks of red looming on each side of them.
“Wow!” she cried.
“Yeah.” He glanced behind him, the flash of his white teeth glinting in the sun. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Everything inside her bloomed. Her heart, her soul. She felt like she’d walked out of her life and into another world. A world where a beautiful man liked her and wanted to kiss her, a world filled with fantastical landscapes, a world where she could be free.
The bike suddenly jerked to the right, rolling through a towering, red-rock arch and stopping in a hollow, away from the wind.
“Wow.” She whispered the word, this time.
In the center of the cavern stood an old picnic table. Nothing to say wow about. But there was an elegant white tablecloth on it, with china and wine glasses glittering in the sun.
It looked like fine dining transported into the desert.
Whipping off his helmet, he glanced over his shoulder and met her stunned gaze with a smirk. “Good?”
“What have you done?” she muttered.
“I wanted to go back to last night.” A frown crossed his brow, as if he weren’t quite certain of his actions. “Just in a different setting.”
This man had been thoroughly unhinged last night. She still didn’t understand why, yet she knew it was true. Why would he want to recreate the situation enough he’d had someone tow all this stuff into the desert? “This is so odd.”
He shot her a look before letting out his short bark of a laugh. “Sometimes it’s good to be odd.”
“Is it?” Although she tried to stifle her reaction, her heart soared at his words. Because she’d always been odd. Always.
Nick liked odd?
Is that why he liked her?
“Yeah.” He flipped off the motorcycle’s engine and kicked the stand down. “You have to get off first.”
Sliding off the bike, she immediately missed the heat of it and the heat of the man. Late October in the Nevada desert wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t hot, either. She shivered under her borrowed leather jacket, wondering what was next.
With a graceful move, so typical of the man, he swung his long leg over the seat and stood by her side. “Hungry?”
She glanced up in time to see the glint in his eye, and remembered the last time he’d asked that question. This time, though, there wasn’t a sexual suggestion in his blue gaze. This time, there was a friendly tease.
A rush of relief went through her that he wasn’t forcing her to confront her attraction. At least not yet. The realization surprised her and relaxed her at the same time.
She wasn’t afraid of this man. Not afraid to be in this empty hollow of stone, alone with him and isolated from the rest of the world. But she was afraid of what she’d do with him if given a chance. There was a real possibility she might shut off her brain and jump his bones, if offered any kind of temptation. That wouldn’t be smart or wise. She didn’t want to risk anything until she found out what was going on between Nick and her father.
She didn’t want to get hurt.
And she knew, this man could hurt her.
Except it appeared as if he weren’t pressing his point. Which seemed odd, too. Nick Townsend struck her as a man who consistently pressed his advantage.
“Not hungry?” His brows rose at her continued silence.
“A little. Maybe.” Looking at the table, she still couldn’t take the whole thing in. She couldn’t see any food on the china plates, but there was a bulky storage box stuck back behind the table.
“Take this off.” He unclipped her chin strap and began to pull at the helmet.
“I can do it—”
The helmet popped off her head and she remembered her hair. Her loose hair. A stray breeze lifted a lock into the dusty air. Nick’s gaze latched onto it, his expression growing intent and focused. With a flick of his hand, he wrapped the strand around one long finger. “Extraordinario.”
S
he didn’t speak Spanish, however, she understood the word. “What is?”
His brilliant-blue gaze switched to her. “Your hair, of course.”
“Of course?”
“Sí.” He went back to looking at the strand wrapped around his one finger. “I have never seen such a color.”
“It’s red.”
Another of his sharp laughs surrounded her. “Pelirroja.”
“What?”
His finger twirled around the strand of her hair again, drawing her near. His gaze met hers, and there was something dark and greedy in his eyes. With a start, she realized he hadn’t been giving her space, he’d only been biding his time. The message was in his eyes—I’m going to win you.
“Redhead in Spanish,” he murmured, his head dipping closer.
Her breath came faster and the dusty air dropped away, leaving only his spicy scent. “Red. That Spanish word—”
“Pelirroja.” His faint accent licked at the word.
“Pelerowa.” She attempted to mimic him, trying to distract him.
A masculine chuckle, deep and dusky, was his response. His finger tugged on her hair, bringing her into the circle of his body. “Jessie.”
“Yes,” her voice quivered, and so did her body.
“I’m not going to ask for a kiss this time.” His gaze slid to her open mouth. “I’m going to take.”
He dropped the strand of her hair, but before she had a chance to decide if she should step away, his hand encircled her neck. Under her hair, on her skin, heat traveling down her spine.
Before she could take it all in, his lips were on hers.
Chapter 12
She tasted like nothing Nick had ever tasted before.
Sweet and sassy. Salty and spicy.
The sweet was what touched him the most. The way she tentatively took him in, like she was new to this, new to letting a man in. She drew on him; something deep inside welled. Something he hadn’t dealt with in years, not since burying his mamá and going to live with his father. Something that made his soul shiver with delight and dread.
“Jessie,” he whispered on her lips, before taking her again with his own.
He’d planned on going slow. This morning, this seduction. He’d known she was still leery of him—his future wife was a smart woman. There’d been no plans of taking her mouth and making it his. No plans to run his hands down her back to her tight ass.
No plans to make a pass and a play.
But when he’d touched her hair, the flame of her spirit so alive in the strands, he’d lost himself.
Her hands trailed along his spine, causing him to shudder with need. Everything dropped away from his conscience. The dry air, the dusty earth, the crown of rock above. Everything inside him centered on this woman in his arms.
The daughter who he’d disdained to marry.
The woman who challenged him and shocked him.
The female who came to him, surprising and enchanting him when he least expected it.
“Por favor,” he groaned.
Please.
Please me. Please forgive me.
Because he was deceiving her, if not in his actions, then with his plans. He liked her, wanted her. And yet, at the heart of this relationship brewed a dark, ugly stew of a lie.
As if sensing this, she suddenly jerked from his arms. Her skin was so white the freckles on her nose and cheeks stood out. Those mixed eyes of hers stared at him with a wariness that hurt, though he’d concede her right to feel it. Her wide mouth, still wet from his kisses, firmed, then tightened. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”
Her voice was filled with betrayal, making him ache. He took a step back, himself.
“I wasn’t, either,” he confessed. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
If she could, she’d bolt. He could see it in the tense line of her jaw, and tautness of her body. Gracias a Dios, he’d gotten her here in the middle of nowhere. It bought him some time to smooth things over. “Are you hungry?”
Her expression turned sardonic.
“For food,” he said hastily, waving at the table and storage container. “There’s breakfast.”
Glancing at the elaborate table, her mouth softened.
He took that as a good sign, and strode to the supplies his staff had delivered here early this morning. They’d laughed at him as he’d made the arrangements, but something in their eyes told him they were happy for him.
They all liked Jessica McDowell, it was clear.
“She’s as smart as you are,” his assistant had stated with her usual authority. “She’ll keep up with you.”
“Will she, Maggie mía?” He’d focused his attention on the champagne as it was packed into the storage container.
“Yes, she will.” Her gaze followed his and, for a moment, he thought he’d escaped any further comment.
He wasn’t that lucky.
“She also won’t be fooled.” The older woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you told her about your deal with her father?”
“No.” The word was tense with friction. “Drop it, Maggie.”
“She’ll find out,” she warned. “And if she’s anything like her father, she’s not going to forgive easily.”
Swinging around from staring at the container as the last of the breakfast was packed, he scowled at her. “I’m supposed to tell her I’m marrying her for her hotels?”
Maggie’s gaze didn’t waver. “Is that the truth, though, Nicky? Now that you’ve met her, is this really what you’re doing?”
He’d cut off the conversation before it went any further. Because he had no answers. And he couldn’t stand thinking about what this woman standing before him would do if he confessed about the contract.
She’d walk away. Fly away. Bolt.
That’s what she’d do.
“Breakfast? Here?” She grabbed at her fluttering hair and annoyance flitted across her face. “Would you mind giving me back my tie?”
“If I do, will you stay for breakfast?”
Sighing, she surveyed the silent, dramatic landscape. The wind was the only sound, the rocks their only company. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
No, she didn’t. Her father had signed her future over to Nick Townsend. A man who was ruthless and hard and tough. Jessie might balk at the terms if he brutally laid them out to her, except he knew her well enough, now. Her hotels would ultimately mean she’d agree to the deal.
But she’d be angry. Perhaps forever. And she’d be hurt. Badly hurt.
He didn’t want that. Not at the moment, not ever.
Because he liked her. She was his friend.
He didn’t want his new wife to think he’d married her for property. He wanted the Jessie he’d glimpsed a few times. The Jessie who laughed freely and smiled with her eyes and teased him with a cautious friendliness.
“You have a choice.” He kept away from her, his hands at his side, his body relaxed. “I’ll drive you back, if you want.”
She eyed him before looking at the fancy table. Something in those mixed eyes told him he’d won this hand. “What’s for breakfast?”
His heart lightening, Nick slid the cover open. The food looked as delicious as when he’d watched it being packed. “Prime rib.”
“Prime rib?” her voice rose behind him. “For breakfast?”
Flashing a grin over his shoulder, he drawled, “You’re in the wild, wild west now. We cowboys want meat at every meal.”
She snorted. “I wouldn’t classify you as a cowboy.”
Little did she know. For several years of his teenage life, his one goal had been to become a true cowboy. So his father would love him and he’d fit into his heritage. Of course, he’d fallen far short of both goals, so maybe she was right.
“Guess I can’t fool you, can I?” Pulling out the first of several platters, he headed for the picnic table. “Guess you can spot a fraud when you see one.”
A startled look crossed her face, followed by an expression of distress. “I didn’t mean to infer that you—”
“Time for chow.” Not wanting to dig into his past with this woman and show her all the ugly, he lifted the plastic cover. The scent of meat and potatoes filled his nostrils and hers.
Her gaze went to the food, to his relief. “It looks great.”
“Us cowboys know how to eat.” He put on his western drawl again, one he hadn’t used in a very long time. Tapping his imaginary cowboy hat, he made his eyes twinkle. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but can we dig into the victuals and eat?”
Her laugh, the one that made him think of crisp breezes and cool water, flowed through him. He grinned at her, feeling light and young. Feeling like this situation would work out, somehow.
Jessie gave him her side-eye.
Then, she returned the grin.
She had to admit a slab of prime rib paired with scrambled eggs and hash browns made for an excellent breakfast.
“Is it cooked all right?” Nick asked from across the table.
“Perfect.” Dipping a piece of meat into horseradish sauce, Jess closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as it slid into her mouth.
“Mimosa good, too?”
She opened her eyes and widened them when she saw his face.
He looked eager, boyish. In fact, now that she thought about it, he’d looked this way since they’d kissed. Like he lived to make her happy, and wanted only what she wanted. He’d handed over the tie for her hair without a quibble, or even a tease. With careful attention, he’d dished the food onto her china plate, and made sure she had everything she needed. Throughout the meal, he’d been charming. Genuinely charming instead of doing his suave routine.
“Good?” He nodded again at the long-stemmed, crystal glass standing by her plate. His eyes went dark, as if he were worried.
She swallowed. “Um. Sure.”
“Sure?” His lashes swept down, hiding the blue. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“What’s going on with you?”
“Huh?” His head jerked back, and those lush lashes rose, no longer concealing the heavenly blue. “What do you mean?”