by Ann Major
Sixth Street was iffy at this hour. A woman alone might be okay wandering the streets back to her car. But then again, she might run into an unwanted admirer or several unwanted admirers. Years ago when she and Lexie had sneaked out together to roam the street, they’d been separated. Amy had found herself in a dark alley and had nearly been raped by two young drunks. But Lexie had found them and pounded Amy’s attackers in the head with her bag. When that hadn’t worked, she’d sprayed them with pepper spray, causing them to run.
The memory made Amy wary. A woman had to be careful. She took off his Stetson and handed it to him. Watching her thoughtfully, he took it and placed it on his head.
“Why the frown?” He touched her elbow, and she jumped back.
“What if I’m not ready to go to your hotel room yet? What if I want to talk?”
He sucked in a breath. “Okay. Where?”
With his brilliantly lit eyes on her, she felt self-conscious all over again. “Over there maybe. The Lonesome Saloon.”
Now it was his turn to look wary. His handsome face darkened. “I have a better idea,” he said rather edgily. “I’ll walk you to your car, and I’ll follow you in my truck to the Hyatt. We can have a drink at their bar or walk on the jogging path by Town Lake. Your choice.”
“Are you okay?”
Instead of answering her, he took a long breath, shot her a reassuring smile that didn’t fool her and said, “Where the hell’s your car?”
It was obvious he didn’t want to waste any more time getting to know her. Obvious that all he was after was sex.
Good.
Please, don’t let anybody I know see me with him!
Amy met clients at the Hyatt all the time, so her gaze scanned the people they saw as soon as she emerged from the revolving doors of the Hyatt on Steve’s arm. Every woman they passed stared at Steve and then shot shy, envious smiles at Amy.
He was that good-looking. Not that he seemed to notice their admiring glances. At first Amy felt nervous, but gradually because of the other women, she began to cling a little harder to his arm. After all, at least for tonight, he was hers.
Amy had done quite a few events here. Like a lot of the Austin locals, she particularly loved this hotel. Its bar on the first floor had a Wild West decor, and it dominated the flashy lobby with views of Town Lake. Longhorns and cowboy boots adorned the walls as well as a gun rack filled with real BB guns.
Besides using the hotel as a venue, she sometimes met clients or caterers here after work. The comfortable couches and chairs were oversize and covered in brown-and-white cowhide. They were spaced widely enough apart so that other people couldn’t eavesdrop on her meetings.
Tonight the walls of glass provided a dazzling view of downtown’s glamorous skyline. Steve chose an outside table on the huge patio overlooking the water and “Bat Bridge” and the hike-and-bike trail.
“Too bad we’re too late to see the bats,” she said.
The bats swarmed out of the Congress Avenue Bridge at dusk every evening much to the delight of their fans, who massed in the hundreds under the bridge to see them.
“If you’ve seen one bat, you’ve seen ’em all.” Steve’s big hand closed over hers.
She laughed. “I think there’s something magical about them.”
“Right. They eat mosquitoes.”
She smiled.
“How come you looked so sad when you blew out the candle of your cake?” he asked after they’d sat in companionable silence in their shadowy corner for a while.
“It’s my birthday.”
“Oh, right. Your thirtieth. The birthday that makes all women crazy.”
“I feel like life is passing me by.”
“Then don’t let it. Seize life.” He stroked her hand while his unwavering gaze stirred her nerves until they felt taut.
“I know what you want.”
She wasn’t being fair, blaming him for the chemistry between them. But where was it written that a woman should be fair? Men took advantage, so why shouldn’t she?
“I did seize life—once,” she admitted, looking away, her eyes burning a little. “I…I made mistakes. I…” The shimmering lake seemed to blur.
It was an illusion, she told herself. She never cried.
She felt his fingers under her chin as he turned her vulnerable face back to his. “You look so unbearably sad all of a sudden. Why?”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be such a drag,” she said.
“You’re not. So, what happened?”
“Look—”
“I have ghosts, too,” he said. “One was my older brother. Only, he finally straightened his life out.”
“Who said anything about ghosts?”
“Well, something’s damn sure eating you, darlin’. My number-two ghost is a gorgeous blonde.”
“I’m blond.”
“Exactly. You even look a little like her. In fact, when I first looked at you, you scared the hell out of me. So, we’re both living dangerously tonight.”
“What went wrong between you and her?”
“I suppose it’s a common enough story,” he said in an easy voice that didn’t quite match the bleak emptiness in his eyes. “She left me for my best friend and business partner.”
“Oh, that’s rough. I’m sorry. When?”
“A year ago today.”
“And you’re not over her?”
“I tell myself I am.”
“Where does she live?”
“Here. In Austin.”
“Do you ever see her?”
“This morning, as a matter of fact.” His face went dark and still.
“And if she changed her mind about you—”
“I tell myself I’ve learned my lesson, that I’d walk away. No! I’d run!”
“But would you?”
He didn’t answer.
“You didn’t run when you saw me, and you said I looked like her.”
When he shoved his chair back, the metal legs grated on the rough concrete. “Can we talk about something else other than Madison?”
“Sure.”
Madison. So that was her name. And since she lived here, she could be dangerous.
Only to the next woman who fell in love with him. Never to Amy, since they couldn’t possibly have a future. Still, she swallowed tightly.
Amy didn’t know what to say for a while, but it didn’t seem to matter. She understood about inner demons. So they sat together in the darkness, and as it had been on the dance floor, she found it easier to be with him than she ever could have imagined. What did it matter if she was a stand-in for a woman he couldn’t have?
“I’d rather talk about my ranch or my family than Madison,” he said after a while.
“What’s your family like?”
“I grew up in the east,” he said. “I was a big-city boy. Manhattan. I have an older brother, Jack. He’s forty and real serious, at least since—” When he stopped himself abruptly, she wondered why. “And a younger sister, Violet. She ran a little wild for a while, but now she’s a doctor. Very respectable.”
Amy shivered a little and glanced out at the lake, which looked like thick, glossy ink in the sparkling darkness.
“Go on,” she said.
“I’ve got two more brothers—Miles and Clyde—same age as me.”
“What?” She couldn’t believe it. “So you’re a—”
“Triplet.”
She smiled. “And proud of it?”
“Sometimes—when they behave.”
“So, are you all alike?”
“I’m supposed to be the smartest. Clyde’s got the worst temper, and Miles can rib you until you want to sock him.”
“Wow.”
“We visited Texas as boys, and the land got into my blood. Jack wasn’t much for Texas back then, but Clyde and Miles and I used to pretend we were cowboys and ride stick horses.”
“So did I.”
“When I graduated from college I moved to Texas and went in
to business with my college roommate, Larry Cabot.”
“He’s the one who ran off with Madison?”
Steve hissed through his teeth as he lifted his chin. “He had family money, and I had ambition. I was willing to work hard, too.”
Smarts, she thought, feeling her chest swell in admiration as if his brains and success reflected on her somehow. Which was ridiculous. They weren’t a couple.
“I started a bar and restaurant with him and began buying land with my brothers. But even though I ranched with them, I always wanted a place of my own. Times were hard for a while. The realities of ranching are different from fantasy. I thought having a ranch of my own was a dream I might never realize. Then when the Shiny Pony Bar and Grill became a success, Cabot and I bought the Lonesome Saloon.”
His mouth thinned. “Today we signed papers that make him the sole owner of the Lonesome. I ended up with the Shiny Pony.”
She lifted his hand with the blistered finger and kissed the red welt. “I saw you come out of the kitchen sucking this. No wonder you didn’t want to make out at the Lonesome Saloon.”
“Make out? Is that what we’re going to do?”
She leaned closer and parted her lips. When she licked them, she tasted him. “I certainly hope so. But first tell me about this ranch you’re so wild about.”
“Like I said, my first venture was with my triplet brothers. We pooled our resources and went in together on a ranch we call Flying Aces. Then about five years ago, I decided to look for some land of my own. I shopped for months without buying so much as an acre. Then one night I was driving around lost on some endless county road and feeling discouraged when I happened onto a place that had belonged to the same family for generations. There was water, natural springs and a creek, cliffs, lots of grass and gorgeous old buildings. The house is nearly a hundred years old. It’ll be something, really something, when I finish restoring it.”
“You sound like you really love it.”
“The old guy who owned it, Mel Foster, was in his late nineties. He loved it even more. His neighbor had been pestering him to sell to him for a decade. Only, he didn’t much like his neighbor, and now that I know the guy, I can’t blame him. Mel didn’t much like his own wild-spending, urban nieces and nephews, either. He wanted someone who’d love the place like he did.”
“And he chose you?”
“When I wandered up to his house he invited me to stay the night. We shared a meal in his stone cook shack and quite a few shots of whiskey that night. We talked about horses and cattle and land, about how we felt about it, about how dead I’d felt in New York all those years. The next morning we got up early. He pointed out his prize livestock, his best bulls, his longhorn cattle and the wild turkeys.”
“It sounds like paradise.”
Steve smiled at her. “I can’t wait to show it to you.”
“I can’t wait to see—” She broke off. She would never see it. “Tell me more.”
“Well, we got out of Mel’s pickup and saw feral pigs in the thickets. There were plenty of white-tailed deer. Quail, too. Then he showed me the bottom land as well as the incredible views from the dramatic cliffs. It was so beautiful. By noon I was in love. Come supper the ranch was mine. Mel lived there and took care of the place until he got sick. Then I took care of him.”
“He’s dead?”
Steve nodded, and she saw the sorrow in his eyes.
“He was like a third grandfather. I still miss him.”
“I’m so sorry.” She traced his knuckles with a fingertip.
“They did big write-ups on him in the Texas newspapers. He was a top-notch rancher and had won international awards, yet he lived simply in a bunkhouse with only a few personal items. He kept the big house in perfect shape, like a museum. Said it was too luxurious for him. All he cared about was working the ranch. I won’t ever forget him.”
“I know what’s it’s like to lose someone you’ll never forget.”
“I guess everybody does, darlin’. Mel was a big man. I want to make him proud…if he’s looking down.”
“I’m sure you will.” She paused. “I…I used to spend a lot of time at a beautiful ranch that’s probably near yours…with a friend,” Amy whispered. “A long time ago. We liked to ride horses together.”
“Is she dead, too?”
“She was in an accident.” Amy wrapped her hand around his and held on tight. Then she swallowed and said no more. She felt the warmth of his eyes on her face, but she didn’t dare look at him.
“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” he said gently. “Something’s eating at you, and it’s not going to stop unless you do something about it.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Not tonight maybe. But I’m here. I’ll listen…when you’re ready. I’ll give you all my phone numbers.”
He said it as if he was sure they had some sort of future.
But we don’t. We just have tonight.
That truth made her heart ache even before he leaned forward and brushed his mouth softly across hers, his tongue teasing until she parted her lips.
His mouth was warm, and every time he licked or sucked or pressed his lips into hers even just a little, he sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout her body.
“You ready to get the hell out of here?” he muttered fiercely.
“Just one more kiss,” she whispered against his mouth.
“One more for the road?” He laughed as his lips nuzzled the side of her throat. “Only if I get to pick the spot.”
“The spot?”
“The spot where I get to kiss you, darlin’.”
His dark eyes drifted lazily down her breasts to her belly, as if searching for exactly the right place that would give them both a buzz that would last until they reached his hotel. His gaze was disturbingly sensual when it lingered on that intimate place between her thighs.
“You’re wearing black lace panties,” he said.
“How’d you—” She gasped, reddening with shock. “No! Not there!”
He laughed. Swiftly before she could stop him, he pulled her black spandex blouse lower, exposing more of her left breast. Then bending his dark head, he kissed the tiny L she’d had tattooed there nine years ago to match the A Lexie had had tattooed on herself two days before.
The tattoo, which had sent her perfect mother into orbit, had seemed like a lark at the time. Now it was a brand that burned all the way to her heart. It was like the scarlet letter on Hester Prynne’s bodice, a constant reminder to Amy of her original sin.
Amy cried out in pure anguish, pushing at his shoulders, struggling to escape him. He was relentless. All too soon his lips and tongue bathed the tiny L, the symbol of her secret shame, with hot, wet kisses. The warm gliding of his tongue made it an erotic, joyous place that belonged to him and to her instead of to Lexie.
Caught up in her tempestuous excitement, Amy was soon driven by fresh desire. Gripping his head as his mouth washed the lush flesh with the healing balm of his sensual love, she moaned.
“I want you. I want you so much,” she whispered in a raw, agonized tone. “How can this be happening?”
“Ready to get the hell out of here yet?” he muttered. “Or do you want me to pick another spot to kiss?”
“If you even talk about it, I’ll be a molten puddle in two seconds.” When she sprang from her chair so he wouldn’t kiss her again, her legs were so wobbly, she had to clutch the table for support. “I’m going to hate myself tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t. I promise,” he whispered, putting his arm around her waist. “Hold on to me.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be,” he murmured. “I’m not. And that’s a switch.”
In his eyes she saw a strange emotion, which vanished before she could read it.
Even so, she clung to him, burying her face against his broad chest for a long moment. Why, why she was acting as if he could protect her against all the demons? But, of course, h
e couldn’t. She knew that.
Nobody could. Her demons lay within.
Four
Standing in his birthday suit with hot water streaming all over him should have relaxed him. Except, Steve’s mind got creative on him as he stared at the glistening white tile walls.
Paranoid might be a better word than creative.
Sally was gone. He was sure of it. The mere thought made his heart feel heavy and leaden.
You’ve got it bad, Fortune.
When he turned off the water and slammed the shower door open, a blast of frigid air stopped him. He should never have told her the name of his hotel and then let her follow his truck in her own car. He should never have left Miss Jones in his living room alone while he showered.
Fear knotted Steve’s stomach even as the cold air raised goose bumps on his dark flesh. When he heard a sound in the other room, his heart leaped with a keen excitement. Hurrying, he strode about the cold, functional hotel bathroom, not caring that he dripped water all over the tiles, not caring when he nearly stumbled on the wet floor that was as slippery as polished glass.
Despite the shower and the chill, just thinking about her had him hard again. He wanted to thrust himself inside her, to claim her in the most primitive way. He wanted to stay inside her forever.
If he was wrong and she was gone, he’d have to go back to Town Lake and jog for hours.
Grabbing a towel, he rubbed his hair down first and then his body. To relax, he forced himself to whistle again as he had in the shower. When he was done, he threw the towel down and was about to open the door that led to the bedroom, when he realized he didn’t have a stitch on. He was that eager.
Hell. Should he dress again?
No. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. Striding into the living room, all he saw was furniture—a couch, two chairs, two lamps and a few books.
Where the hell was she? He stood there for a long moment, inhaling her scent, which floated in the room like her ghost.