by HELEN HARDT
“I’m right.”
“Amazing, darlin’,” Zach said. “How’d you do that?”
“I told you I was good at math.”
“There’s good and there’s genius. Go figure.” He took the package from Jay, and they walked out of the shop. “If I’d known you could do that, I’d have asked you to figure the tip at dinner.”
“I’d’ve been glad to.” She shyly put her hand in his. “Thank you for the gift,” she said. “I should get something for you.”
“Don’t need anything.”
“You said you needed a new hat.”
“Changed my mind.” She didn’t have the money to buy the kind of hat he wanted.
“You have to let me do something.”
“How about a cold drink?”
“That’s hardly payment for those.” She motioned to the package in Zach’s hand.
“A hot drink?”
She gave him a friendly punch in the arm. “You’re incorrigible.”
“’Fraid so, darlin’.”
He took her hand, and they walked around the pavilion. Dusty’s eyes were wide as she looked at the displays of ostrich boots. Zach opened his mouth to offer to buy her some and then thought better of it. She was right. They barely knew each other. So why did he want to buy her everything she touched? Everything that made her eyes light up like the night sky in the country? A strange feeling, but a pleasant one.
When the vendors started packing up their wares for the evening, Zach guided Dusty out to the parking lot to the Jaguar. They drove to her hotel, laughing together. When he walked her to her room, they stood for an awkward moment. Dusty thanked him for the dinner and the spurs, and they made plans to meet in the morning to work with Diablo.
“But don’t get your hopes up, darlin’,” Zach said, winking at her. “I still ain’t gonna let you ride him.”
Dusty stomped her foot perilously close to Zach’s expensively shod toe. Clearly, he’d hit a nerve. Again.
“I told you, I’m not your darling. And why do you say ain’t all the time? You went to Harvard, for God’s sake!”
Zach arched his eyebrows and grinned. “Now you sound like my mama. I’ve been talkin’ this way my whole life, and I ain’t gonna stop now, darlin’.”
Dusty exhaled sharply as she fished in her purse, presumably for her key card. She looked up at Zach. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t go yet.” His heart slammed against his sternum as he placed his palms on the wall, trapping her. “There’s something I need to do first.”
“What?”
Her chocolate eyes widened, and he swore he could see her soul.
“This.”
He crushed his lips down on hers.
Chapter Three
Infuriating. Sexist Pig. Idiot genius who didn’t care about proper English usage.
But oh, could the man kiss.
From the first second, refusing wasn’t an option. The unimaginable sensation of his mouth pressed to hers overrode the rational part of Dusty’s brain. His lips were warm, unexpectedly soft, and laced with the robust boldness of his after-dinner Irish coffee. The bewitching friction as he nibbled at her mouth enticed her lips to open.
And then—magic. The woodsy spiciness of the coffee, the tangy storm of the Irish whiskey, and something else…something unique and indescribable. Zach. His tongue danced around hers, and her legs trembled beneath her. As if on cue, he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Every cell in her body screamed at her to drive into him, to deepen the kiss, but she was frightened. She barely knew him. So she began to pull away.
His strength defeated hers. “Kiss me back, darlin’,” he whispered against her chin. “Please.”
The please did it. Somehow, she knew instinctively that Zach McCray didn’t utter that word very often, if at all. Weak-kneed and aroused, she thrust her tongue into the moist warmth of his mouth, and she was lost.
She’d done her share of kissing in the past, but never had she felt such an adventurous surge of need and desire. The frantic necking in parked cars, the careless good night kisses, the lazy exploration—nothing compared to this urgency, this demand. As their tongues tangled together, she moved her hands upward, framing his face. She toyed with the roughness of his night beard, the sleekness of his jawline. Part of her was barely cognizant of him cupping her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her, yet another part was hyper-aware of his touch, his mastery of her.
When the frenzy between them slackened slightly, he removed his lips from hers and trailed them across her cheek, down her neck, and to her ear, tracing it with his tongue, nipping the soft lobe. She kissed his neck and inhaled his scent. Cloves. And pine. The outdoors. Heavenly. Faint moans met her ears, and she realized they were coming from her throat.
“Dusty.” Zach’s voice was husky, smoke-filled.
She moaned again as his mouth found hers. Unrestrained desire took her over, and she thrust her hips against him, feeling the strength of his arousal. She imagined him inside her, filling her, pleasuring her with that gorgeous body. She had never wanted a man like this. She wanted him naked, on top of her, doing things no man had ever done to her.
She let out a disappointed rasp as he broke the kiss and headed for her ear again.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Let’s go inside.”
“Oh yes, yes.” Dusty tunneled her fingers through his silky hair, leading him back to her mouth.
He pushed his tongue into her again and retreated. “Now, darlin’. Or I take you right here.”
“Yes, yes.” Then, “Oh! I mean no. No!” She placed her palms on his chest—oh, how she wanted him to lose the shirt—and pushed.
“What’s the matter?” He fingered a stray curl that had come loose from her braid.
“I…that is, you…can’t come in.”
“Please.”
That word again. But, “No. I—I…my brother might be there. We’re sharing this room.”
He backed away from her, a look of surprise on his face. But it softened almost instantly. “I’ll take you to my hotel.”
Oh, those eyes. They penetrated her with a fiery passion that started her pulse racing again. But Dusty shook her head. “Sam would worry.”
Besides, this insanity would no doubt calm itself during the drive, and they would both regain their composure. They’d get to his room and the magic would be gone. What was done was done. She had enjoyed it, but it was over.
“Leave him a note.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.
Such a sweet, tender gesture, but the gentle force of it landed between her legs like a torpedo. Okay, so maybe the insanity wouldn’t calm itself quite yet.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Her hands shook as she fumbled in her purse and drew out the key card. Quickly, without looking at him, she slid it into the lock and let herself in, closing the door behind her. She stood alone, leaning against the door, her heart thumping wildly, the heat between her legs aching. Closing her eyes, she felt him on the other side of the door, the hot energy of his body suffusing the barrier between them, reaching out to her. She willed her body to steady itself.
A one-night stand with Zach McCray was the last thing she needed.
* * *
Zach’s body slumped against the door to Dusty’s hotel room, the unsated hunger of his arousal a dead weight in his jeans. Frustrated, he pounded on the door.
“Dusty. Darlin’. Let me in. Please.”
If she heard him, she made no indication. She must have gone in to take a shower or something. Funny, he could have sworn he felt her presence through the door.
“Damn,” he said aloud.
He could still taste the sweet honey of her mouth, smell the fresh spring scent of her. Her lips had parted for him with such innocent ardor, but then she had kissed him like a temptress, a siren. Like no one had ever kissed him before. He groaned. He wanted to break that damn door down, toss her on
the bed, and pound into her, making her his.
But no, he couldn’t. He walked, in pain, to the elevator and made his way to the lobby and then to his rental car.
And back to the hotel for a cold shower.
* * *
For about thirty seconds the next morning, Dusty considered standing Zach up. But she was a polite western girl, and they had made plans to meet and work with Diablo. She really wanted to ride that bull. And, she finally admitted to herself, she wanted to see Zach.
She had no intention of kissing him again. That was a complication she didn’t want in her life right now. No, her interest in Zach McCray was purely bovine in nature. She’d make sure of it.
He was waiting for her by Diablo’s pen, looking sexy as hell in worn Wranglers and a light blue western shirt that matched his left eye. He’d left the expensive ostrich footwear at the hotel. Today he wore a pair of worn brown leather cowboy boots.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” He tipped his Stetson.
“Good morning, yourself,” she said, purposefully avoiding his gaze. She set down the tote bag that held her chaps, vest, glove, and brand new spurs. “Diablo looks pretty mellow today.” She cased the bull’s pen, noting his stance, his attitude.
“He’s always mellow in the morning. That’s why I suggested we meet at this time.” Zach walked over to her and touched her elbow.
How could such an innocent contact make her whole body sizzle? She slowly exhaled and moved away from him.
“Why don’t you tell me what you plan to do?”
“I kind of play it by ear.”
“I see.” He took off his hat and set it on a fence post. “So tell me how you’ll play it by ear. What’s your philosophy?”
Dusty stood her ground. “The most important thing is not to fear the bull. He can sense fear. All animals can.”
“But darlin’, this here’s a big ass bull. Fear is okay.”
“No, it’s not. He’ll know if I’m afraid of him. And I’m not afraid of him.”
“How can you not be?”
“Because I’m not. There are worse things in life than a big bull. Many other things that are worthy of my fear. But not Diablo.”
“You’re something else.” Zach chuckled. “I don’t know any other woman who wouldn’t be afraid of this brute.”
“There’s no reason to be. He doesn’t want to hurt me.”
“How can you conquer him with that attitude?”
“You’re such a man. You men always want to conquer. I have no desire to conquer Diablo. I want to befriend him.”
“Oh, God.”
“I don’t want to be his master. If we’re equals, we’ll understand each other. He’ll want to help me.”
“But you’ll still be breaking him.”
“No. No, I won’t. I don’t see it that way.”
“We’re talking semantics here, darlin’.”
Dusty thought for a moment. “Maybe,” she admitted, “but it’s all in the attitude, Zach. He’d know if I were trying to break him, and he’d fight back. So I’ll befriend him. I’ll give him what he wants.”
“What is it that he wants, darlin’?” Zach smiled lazily. “Other than a cow in season.”
“Ha-ha.” Dusty rolled her eyes. “He wants what any living creature wants. Respect. Understanding.” She swallowed hard. “Love.”
“Love, huh?” Zach winked at her.
“Oh, don’t look at me like I have two heads. All creatures want love. And if I give it to him, he won’t hurt me. He won’t want to.”
“He might.”
“No, he won’t. He doesn’t want to hurt me. I can tell just by looking at him.”
“How so?”
“His eyes. He and I understand each other.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll accept that answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get.”
“Fine. Tell me now, what else do you do to prepare?”
“I keep myself physically fit, obviously.”
“Oh, yeah.” He eyed her up and down. “Obviously.”
“And I visualize. From the time I start preparations in the chute to the time I’m done with the ride, I’m visualizing every possible move and countermove he might make. I see myself as a winner.”
“You have a lot of confidence.”
“Not really. I just don’t accept loss as an option.”
“But loss is a fact of life, darlin’.”
“Sure it is. But you can’t go into something with that attitude, Zach. You’re a bull rider yourself. You must know that.”
“Sure, but—”
“Plus, seeing myself as a winner is the best fear controller there is. So it helps in that respect, too.”
“Okay.” Zach touched her shoulder. “Your philosophy on bull riding is a little idiosyncratic, but I like it. What do you want to do first?”
“I’d like to talk to him a little. My voice seems to have a soothing effect on animals, bulls in particular. At least, it has in the past.”
“Talk away.”
He smiled. The man had a beautiful set of teeth—no doubt the best orthodontia Jason McCray had been able to buy—framed by those incredible and talented lips.
“Just don’t expect him to answer.”
“Funny.” Dusty closed her eyes, mentally releasing all fear and stress from her body. Such a mental wipe was imperative if she wanted the animal to trust her. She breathed deeply, settled herself in her happy place—her grassy meadow at her Montana ranch. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, walked to the front of Diablo’s pen, made eye contact, and began crooning in the sing-song voice that had met with success in the past. She told the bull what a big strong boy he was, how she wasn’t going to hurt him, to please let her in. Soon, Diablo was her whole universe. Nothing else existed. She begin to sing softly to him, the lullaby her mama used to sing to her years and years ago, before she got sick.
Over in Killarney
Many years ago,
Me mother sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And I’d give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, hush now, don’t you cry.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, that’s an Irish lullaby.
Oft in dreams I wander
To that cot again,
I feel her arms a-huggin’ me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a-hummin’
To me as in days of yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, hush now, don’t you cry.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, that’s an Irish lullaby.
With tears misting in her eyes, Dusty reached out and touched Diablo’s cheek.
“No!” Zach rushed toward her, tackling her to the ground to get her away from the bull. “He doesn’t like to be touched on his face!”
“Damn it, Zach!” Dusty sat up and brushed the dirt from her jeans. “I was making great progress. He wasn’t going to hurt me. He’s penned up!”
“I couldn’t take the chance.” Zach rubbed her cheek. “Just a little dust,” he said, catching a tear with his finger. He held it out to show her and then touched it to his lips. “That song was the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“For all the good you let it do.” She sniffed and willed the threatening tears not to fall.
“I’ve never heard it before.”
“Please. Of course you have. You’re Irish, aren’t you?”
“McCray is a Scottish name, and my ma’s of English descent.”
“Oh. Well, my mama used to sing it to me.” Dusty si
ghed. “A long, long time ago…”
“And now you sing it to bulls.” He smiled, his eyes kind as he touched her cheek again.
She tried to ignore the tingle he aroused in her. “Who else is there to sing it to? Besides, it works. You saw Diablo respond. If you hadn’t interfered—”
“I was thinking of the words of the song. It says you’d give the world if she could sing it to you again. That’s why it made you cry, isn’t it?”
“I’m not crying.”
But a lone tear chose that exact moment to fall. Zach smiled as he caught it again. “Of course not.”
“Look, we’re wasting time here. I’ve got to start over with Diablo now.” Dusty brushed off her legs again and began to rise.
Zach got to his feet first and held out his hand. Although warmth flooded her cheeks, she took it. He pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the cheek.
“I was always so sorry about what happened to your mama. How she got sick and all.”
“It’s all right. I don’t remember much. I was young.”
“You remember more than you think you do. You remember that song.”
Dusty said nothing as Zach lifted her chin so she was looking straight into his eyes. “You were such a cute little tomboy back then. I knew you didn’t understand what was happening to your mama. I always wished I could make it better for you.”
Dusty widened her eyes. “Did you? You always picked on me.”
“That was just me being an idiot kid,” Zach said. “When I found out your mama was terminal and they couldn’t help her anymore, I wished I had the power of God to erase that sadness in your big brown eyes.” He skimmed his callused thumb over her lips.
Words, mere words, but they touched her even more than the spark of his fingers on her mouth. “That’s kind of you. I had no idea.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Well…” Dusty struggled to regain her composure. “We survived.”
“But you still miss her.”
“I probably always will. Don’t you miss your father?”
“Yeah, I do. But I was a grown man when he died. It’s different.”
“I suppose so. It was different when my papa died.”