A smile followed the wink and her insides turned cold.
He knew.
The truth crystallized as her mind raced back through the past night’s events. Mason’s truck parked in front of her house. The cookies and the front porch swing. The orgasm on the swing.
Someone had seen them. That was the only explanation. Maybe someone had been out walking their dog or a car had passed by, or more likely, Janice Owens had been using her night vision binoculars. Regardless, someone had seen something and now the entire town probably thought that she and Mason had had wild, heathen sex in full view of anybody who might have happened by
The thing was, they hadn’t actually done it. Sure, she’d had an orgasm. One of the best of her life. But as a result of little more than heavy-duty petting by today’s standards. She hadn’t stripped bare and he hadn’t stripped bare, and they hadn’t actually “climbed into the saddle” and gone at it.
The phrase reminded her of the book she’d hidden in her bottom desk drawer and Mason’s words echoed in her head.
“When are you going to stop reading about life and start living it?”
The realization hit her as she stood there, the object of several pairs of knowing eyes. All of them attached to a bunch of old gossips who thought they knew what she’d been up to.
If only.
The minute the thought struck, she knew Mason was right about her. She spent her time reading about life rather than living it. She planned and contemplated and fantasized, but she never actually did anything. She never acted on half of what she felt inside.
She’d never had to. The planning and contemplating and fantasizing had always been enough to satisfy her.
Until now.
Until Mason McGraw had come back to town, back into her life, and given her a sample of the real thing.
And now the fantasies just weren’t good enough. She wanted more. She wanted him.
She knew what she should do—finish the transformation on her own and steer clear of any and all temptation.
At the same time, she knew what she wanted to do. Right now. Right this moment.
She wasn’t sure what happened to her in that next instant, but suddenly her misgivings faded. Maybe as a result of the morning’s caffeine deprivation or the lack of sleep last night. Or maybe, just maybe, she was simply tired of fighting the need that pulled inside of her. Regardless, Charlene was through imagining what things might be like.
For once, she wanted to see for herself. She wanted to live. To lust.
For a little while, anyway.
The overwhelming desire burning her up from the inside out didn’t change the fact that she wanted a happily ever after and she wanted it with a man who was more her equal than her opposite. After all, it took more than lust to build a solid relationship.
But to live out a fantasy?
Lust was plenty enough for that.
MASON HAD JUST stepped out of the shower after a grueling afternoon riding fence when he heard the knock on the front door.
He tried to ignore the sound as he reached for a towel. His muscles ached as he wiped at the water drip-dropping down his face. It was one of his hired hands, he knew. They usually knocked a few times before walking inside to take care of whatever business had brought them up to the main house.It sure as hell wasn’t a visitor. The Iron Horse sat a good forty miles outside of town, which meant that visitors were few and far between, and he certainly wasn’t expecting anyone.
The knocking continued.
Okay, so it was probably one of the newer hands who didn’t feel comfortable just waltzing in.
He ducked his head out the bathroom door. “Could someone get that?” he called out, a request that fell on deaf ears. Eustess and Lurline were too busy going at it over a blaring television in the back room.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, Mason left the bathroom and walked down the hallway toward the front door. He could wait for Rance to hobble in from the den, but that would take a few minutes since he still wasn’t used to the crutches. And whoever was knocking didn’t sound the least bit patient.
Knock, knock, knock, knock—
“The door’s open,” he growled as he grabbed the doorknob and hauled the thick wood toward him. “The door’s always open…” His voice faded and all thought careened to a dangerous halt as his gaze drank in the woman standing on his doorstep.
“I’m ready,” Charlene announced, looking like his hottest fantasy come to life.
His nerves prickled. There was something different about her. Something other than the come-and-get-me way she was dressed.
She wore the camouflage tank top he’d picked off the rack at Miss Jolie’s boutique and a fitted blue-jean miniskirt that accented her round ass and revealed smooth, bare legs that seemed to go on forever before disappearing into a pair of tan cowboy boots that matched one of the colors in her top.
Her soft, pale hair hung loose and flowed down past her shoulders. She’d framed her eyes with a pencil liner that made them look even deeper and more sultry. Her plump red lips curved into a smile that stalled his heart for several long seconds.
“I guess I should have called first.” He watched as she drank in his appearance and her smile widened. His heart gave a flip. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“A bad time for what?” he said, managing to find his voice.
“Our consultation.”
“You cancelled,” he accused, remembering the message Lurline had given him. “I’m tied up and can’t make lunch.” In other words, she’d been freaked out about last night and hadn’t wanted to see him.
While he’d expected it, it had bothered him anyway. A hell of a lot considering that he’d wanted to see her in the worst way.
“I’m here to reschedule,” she told him.
“For when?”
“Now. I had a makeup lesson at the Hair Saloon today, so I’m done with the appearance part of the transformation. That brings us to the second part—the moves. Since we never actually made it inside Wild West, I thought maybe we could take a drive out there tonight and see a few daring divas in action.”
“You can see that at the nearest honky tonk.”
“True, but they won’t be professionals. I’d really like to see the pros in action. Besides—” she smiled and her eyes twinkled “—I’ve always wanted to see the place from the inside and I got all dressed up just for the occasion.”
His gaze swept her again. “Nice boots,” he finally told her when he met her stare.
“Thanks.” Her smile faded and her eyes gleamed. “I bought them today. For tonight.”
Yep, she was different, all right.
She had a confidence about her now that put his entire body on high alert and sent a rush of excitement through him. And if her sudden appearance hadn’t been enough to stir him up, she reached out and topped it off with a soft, purposeful touch.
“You look good all wet.” She traced a winding path of moisture down his slick stomach to where it disappeared into the towel knotted at his waist. “So,” she said as she let her hand fall away after a seemingly endless moment. “Are you up for tonight?”
He grinned, his moodiness and exhaustion fading in a wave of anticipation. He was up, all right.
Boy, was he ever.
WILD WEST WAS everything Charlene thought it would be and more. The music was loud, the men were rowdy and the girls were beautiful. The only thing that turned out to be completely different from what she envisioned was Mason himself.
He was a man with a reputation for enjoying beautiful women and so she’d expected him to kick back and enjoy the show.He didn’t.
He sat up straight, his body tense, his gaze dark and hot and fixated on Charlene.
Despite all the eye candy surrounding him, from the waitress to the curvaceous woman prancing on the stage in front of them, wearing nothing but a neon pink g-string, a matching cowboy hat and a smile.
He didn’t spare them a glance and the re
alization fueled Charlene’s newfound confidence. So when the evening drew to a close and he started to take her home, she stopped him.
They ended up on a back road that led to a small creek that had once been the hottest make-out spot in town. Times had changed and the kids now hung out in a field near Simpson’s pond. But that didn’t dampen Charlene’s excitement when she found herself sitting next to Mason on the tailgate of his truck. He’d pulled a sleeping bag from the cab and spread it out on the bed of the truck.
“I like a man who comes prepared,” she told him as she settled next to him.
He grinned. “You can never tell when you’ll get caught out in a storm and have to set up camp for the night. I was out rounding up cattle on this ranch in New Mexico one time and a storm hit so hard and so fast, that I ended up huddled in the cab of my truck in freezing weather, without so much as a blanket. Never again. I’ve got a day’s supply of food rations and a water bottle stashed, too. Just in case.”
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to sleep in my car.”
“You do what you have to.”
“But you don’t have to do it,” she replied. “You can hire people to run the ranch and do something else if you want to. Didn’t you ever want to be a cop or a lawyer or a firefighter, or any of the other stuff most boys dream about?”
He shrugged. “Ranching’s in my blood. It’s who I am. Besides, I like it. I like it a lot.” He stared up at the sky. “There’s nothing like being on the back of a horse. The fresh air. The outdoors.”
“The heat,” she reminded him, thinking of the ninety plus weather they’d been having every day for the past two months. While the nights were bearable, cool even like now, the days were miserable.
“The heat can be something else. But I still wouldn’t trade being outside for anything. Besides, you can always run the horse faster, which stirs a pretty decent wind.” When she nodded, he added, “You’ve never been on a horse, have you?”
“Once. It was a pony, actually, and I was six years old. It was Tracy Smith’s birthday party.”
“The girl with the red hair and pigtails?” At her nod, he added, “I think I was at that party.”
“You were. You and your brothers. The three of you threw spitwads at her dad’s BMW.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“You threw the farthest, by the way.”
He looked surprised. “You noticed?”
“I always noticed.”
Why-oh-why had she said that?
Because she’d thought it, and she was through with just thinking. Tonight, she was doing.
Silence stretched between them, the radio playing in the background.
“I noticed you, too,” he finally said.
“Yeah, right.”
His grin was slow and sure. “And I’ll never forget how cute you looked in your Hee Haw panties.”
“I’d rather not think about that.”
“I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. You and your Hee Haw panties. You without your Hee Haw panties.” His gaze shifted to hers and she saw the sincerity in his eyes.
Warmth unfolded in her chest. “You never even talked to me,” she reminded him.
“I was a kid.” He shrugged. “A sixth grade boy at the time. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. And later when I did, I couldn’t act on it. My parents had just died and I didn’t need anything pulling me home when my grandfather was pushing me so hard to leave.”
He looked so sad all of sudden, that she couldn’t help herself. She reached out and touched his thigh, eager to chase away the hurt clouding his expression. “I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I was about your parents. It was such a tragedy.”
His hand closed over hers, his fingers warm and strong as he held her hand for a long moment. “Thanks, but it’s okay now. Everything’s okay. I’m home.” His gaze caught and held hers. “With you.” Before she could ask what he meant, he released her hand, his gaze shifting back to the creek. “So what happened with the pony?”
“I fell off and bruised my leg. I cried all the way home.”
“I’ve fallen off a time or two. Or three. Or four. Or fifty-six.”
“You’ve fallen off a horse fifty-six times?”
He nodded. “Most of that was back in my rodeo days. I was a bronc buster, so falling off went with the territory.”
“I’ve seen Urban Cowboy twenty-eight times.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What does that have to do with bronc busting?”
“Watching John Travolta ride that mechanical bull is the closest I’ve ever come to seeing a real rodeo.”
“You were born and raised in Romeo and you’ve never been out to the county fair?”
She shook her head. “I’m from the yuppie side of town, remember?” A strange sense of longing crept through her. “I always wanted to go. Back when I was a kid, my dad was always too busy with work and my mom was too busy running the house, so we never managed to make it out to the fairgrounds. In high school, I was always studying and none of my friends ever went, so neither did I.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. “I’ve just never had the time.”
“You have to go.”
“Maybe I will.” She realized what she’d just said and determination fired inside of her. Maybe? Tonight wasn’t about maybe. It was about certainty.
It was about doing.
Starting right now.
12
CHARLENE SAT next to Mason and listened as Kenny Chesney’s voice drifted from the radio. He sang about looking back and being young, reminding her of the past and the longing she’d felt for the man next to her. Fireflies danced over the rippling creek. The moon hung big and bright overhead.
It was a night she’d envisioned time and time again with Mason.Almost.
She touched his arm.
“What is it?”
“Stand up.”
He slid off the tailgate, a questioning look on his face as Charlene got to her feet and stood on the tailgate. She pushed the sleeping bag off to the side. Her ears tuned to the music and she closed her eyes for a long moment. The beat filled her head and thrummed through her body and she started to move.
She swayed, moving her hips from side to side. Sliding her arms into the air, she pushed her hands beneath her hair and lifted the silken weight the way she’d seen one of the girls do at Wild West.
The realization that Mason was there, waiting and watching her when he hadn’t spared a glance for any other woman that night, made her heart pound even faster. Her blood raced and her movements grew more sultry.
All too soon, the song faded into a slow tune and she opened her eyes.
Mason stood on the ground and stared up at her, his eyes gleaming in the moonlit darkness. Tension held his body tight. His muscles bunched beneath his T-shirt. Taut lines carved his face, making him seem harsh, fierce, predatory.
Geez, her thoughts sounded like a cheesy romance novel. But what she felt—the intensity of her desire, the desperation—was the stuff of novels. And fantasies.
She’d felt just this way in her most erotic fantasy. Only Mason McGraw wasn’t a figment of her imagination this time. He was real. He was here.
He wanted her.
She licked her lips before touching a finger to her throat, to the frantic pounding of her pulse. Her hand lingered before she slid a finger to the edge of her tank top, tracing the line where warm flesh met soft cotton before moving to the strap. Hooking her finger beneath, she slid the material down over her shoulder. Lifting her opposite arm, she did the same with the other strap until the material sagged around her shoulders. She shimmied a little and the tank top rode lower on her torso until the material caught on her bare, aroused nipples.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
A surge of feminine power went through her and she pushed the straps of her tank top down until the material hugged her waist. Grasping the top, she eased i
t over her hips until it puddled around her boots. Leaning down, she caught one strap and stepped free. Then with all the flourish of one of the Wild West dancers, she twirled the material over her head and tossed it to Mason.
He caught the top and dropped it to the ground, his attention never wavering from her.
Cool night air slid over her bare arms and breasts. Then his gaze chased away the sudden chill as quickly as it had come, heating her body, her blood, until she felt a bead of sweat glide down her temple.
She was hot.
A condition that had nothing to do with the heat wave sweeping through Texas, and everything to do with the fire that burned right here in this small part of it. Between herself and the man who anxiously waited for her next move.
She touched the undersides of her breasts, cupping the soft mounds, weighing them and feeling the heat of her own fingertips against the soft flesh. All the while, she imagined that it was Mason’s touch that seared her. She skimmed her palms over her nipples and they throbbed in response. Her stomach quivered beneath her fingertips as she moved down. Past her belly button. To the snap on her blue jean miniskirt.
A few tugs and the opening slid free, her zipper parted and the material sagged. She rocked her hips in time to the slow, sweet, twangy song that filled the night air and the skirt slithered down her hips and legs. She bent her knee and stepped out of the denim before toeing it to the side with her boot.
She wore silk panty briefs much like the ones she’d worn when he’d walked in on her in the dressing room at Miss Jolie’s. For a split second, doubt pushed past the passion fogging her senses. Her panties were a far cry from anything she’d seen the dancers wear at Wild West.
Why-oh-why hadn’t she thought about new undies?
Because as bold as she was trying to be, this was all new to her. At heart, she wasn’t a daring diva.
But Mason McGraw didn’t seem to realize that. He stared at her as if she’d revealed a beaded thong, his gaze excited. Eager. Hungry.
The realization spurred her on and she trailed her fingertips over the satin of her panties. Desire speared her and she closed her eyes.
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