Cattleman's Courtship

by Lois Faye Dyer

  What led a man to tell a woman that he disliked her because of her occupation only to follow the statement by kissing her senseless? Why would a man who admitted that he deserved his bad reputation go out of his way to warn her and protect her from gossips? She’d dated men whose only interest in her was notching another sexual conquest on their bedpost. None of them had warned her nor worried about her good name and she doubted the possibility had ever crossed their shallow minds.

  His gallantry with her and the gentleness she’d observed when he’d spoken to the toddler were at odds with his stepmother’s bitter description of his character. And contradicted his own warnings.

  Quinn Bowdrie was an enigma, she decided, twisting the dead bolt lock on the door. The only thing about Quinn that I’m sure of, she thought as she reentered her bedroom and climbed into bed, is that he makes my toes curl when he kisses me and that he’s fascinating.

  She wanted to get to know him better, wanted to learn if her instinctive belief that depth, humor and kindness lay beneath Quinn’s hard exterior were true or not. But first she would have to convince him to spend time with her, and he seemed hell-bent on avoiding her.

  I have six months in Colson. Six months to change his mind, get to know him and have some fun. After all, she rationalized, we’re both adults.

  Satisfied that she’d resolved the issue with her usual approach of clear logic and reasoning, she punched her pillow and turned off the light. She was a woman who needed goals and projects. Since she couldn’t work on her professional career for the next six months, she’d work on developing her skills with interpersonal relationships. Quinn Bowdrie was an intriguing project that would productively occupy her time over the next few months.

  The following weekend, the parking lot of the Crossroads Bar and Grill was packed, cars and pickup trucks nearly rubbing fenders or bumpers. Saturday night business was booming.

  Lonna eased her little car into a narrow space at the end of a row and Victoria slipped out of the car, idly surveying the surrounding area while she waited for her cousin to join her.

  The Bar and Grill was a single-story, long cement block building that took up one of the four corners of a crossroads where the state highway bisected a wide, oiled county road on the outskirts of Colson. Directly across the highway was a gas station, its pumps and office dark, closed up tightly for the night.

  A warm breeze moved across the dark prairie that surrounded Colson, carrying the scent of sage on air untainted by city exhaust. Victoria drew a deep breath and tilted her face to the night sky. The gentle wind lifted her hair, sending silky strands skimming across her face. She brushed them back over her shoulder just as Lonna joined her.

  “You’re going to like the band that’s playing tonight.” Lonna linked arms with Victoria and set off toward the low building.

  The pounding beat of bass and drums reverberated through the concrete block walls of the Bar, growing more distinct as they neared.

  Victoria lifted an eyebrow in patent disbelief. “Really?”

  “Really. Trust me, they’re great.”

  “Well, they’re certainly loud,” Victoria conceded.

  Lonna laughed and pulled open the heavy door to the wide entry hall. Victoria drew one last deep breath of the fragrant prairie air and followed her cousin inside.

  The thick door opened into a foyer and a wave of music, noise, and cigarette-smoke-laden air greeted them. Blue neon spelled out Grill over the archway to their right, and Lonna walked beyond to the second archway where red neon proclaimed Bar.

  She halted in the doorway beneath the neon sign and Victoria peered over her shoulder into the long, low-ceilinged room. The Bar was even more crowded than the last time they were here.

  She wondered if Quinn was among the crowd, and her gaze searched the room.

  “He’s at the bar.” Lonna leaned close to speak into Victoria’s ear.

  Victoria turned to look at her, and Lonna smiled with understanding.

  “Quinn’s standing at the end of the bar.”

  Victoria’s gaze shifted, flicking over the row of men and women lining the long bar, stopping dead when she found Quinn at the far end.

  “I see Nikki in a booth over there,” Lonna shouted to make herself heard over the noise. “Let’s join her.”

  A half hour later, Cully nudged Quinn.

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that your blonde?”

  Quinn stiffened and glanced over his shoulder to follow Cully’s gaze. He located Victoria across the crowded dance floor, her hair gleaming silver beneath the lights as her partner swung her out and then back into his arms.

  A stab of pure dislike for the man she danced with sliced into his chest and he turned back to the bar.

  “Well?” Cully asked. “Isn’t that her?”

  “Yeah,” Quinn growled. He drained the glass of beer that he’d been nursing for the last hour and gestured to the bartender for another. “That’s her.”

  “Hmm. Not bad.” Cully narrowed his eyes, assessing the couple. “No wonder you took her away from Beckman.”

  Quinn muttered under his breath. He didn’t bother contradicting Cully.

  “A woman who looks like that is wasted on Beckman,” Cully continued.

  Quinn glared pointedly at his brother. Cully grinned unrepentantly and returned to his conversation with a friend on his left.

  Quinn stayed where he was when Cully and his friend left to circle the room. For a while, he nursed his beer and watched Victoria in the mirror behind the bar. She barely had time to slide into the booth where her cousin and Nikki sat before another man would claim her to dance.

  He lost sight of her in the swirling crowd of dancers and turned, one elbow propped on the bar beside him, and searched the throng until he found her again. She was smiling at her partner, obviously enjoying herself.

  Quinn seethed with fierce anger. He knew he had no right to feel betrayal, but that didn’t change the way he felt. He’d never been jealous over a woman in his life, but there was no mistaking the nearly killing rage he felt each time another unsuspecting man slipped his arm around Victoria’s waist to dance with her.

  Across the room, Cully watched his brother watching Victoria. The colder Quinn’s expression got, the more Cully’s curiosity grew.

  He left the table of men discussing cattle prices and ambled through the crowd to the booth where the pretty blonde sat with Nikki and Lonna.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  “Cully!” Nikki’s face lit with pleasure. She caught his arm and tugged him down onto the seat beside her. “When did you get here?”

  “An hour or so ago,” he responded, flashing her a smile before nodding a hello to the two women across the table. “How are you, Lonna?”

  “Great, how about you?”

  “Fine, just fine.” His gaze switched to Victoria. “We haven’t met, but I’ll bet this is your cousin.”

  Lonna laughed and introduced Victoria. Curious, Victoria studied Quinn’s brother. There was a strong family resemblance. Like Quinn, Cully’s hair was raven-black, his eyes a slightly lighter shade of emerald beneath the arch of black brows. His face was just as strong-boned but more classically handsome than Quinn’s. The same breadth of shoulder and powerful muscles marked his body although there was a slight edge about him while Quinn exuded a more controlled air of power. As strong as the resemblance was, however, Victoria felt none of the instant chemistry and connection to her heart that Quinn had generated.

  “Rumor has it that you defended my brother against our stepmother,” Cully commented.

  “Sort of,” Victoria said.

  Lonna laughed. “Sort of? I don’t think Eileen has had anyone cut off one of her tirades quite so neatly in her life. You should have been there, Cully, Victoria was wonderful.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Lonna’s exaggerating,” Victoria protested, waving off the growing interest in Cully’s expression. “I didn’t do anything unusual, believe
me.”

  “If you managed to make my stepmother speechless, then you definitely did something unusual,” Cully said dryly. “That woman can go on for hours—and never say anything good.”

  “Then it’s true that she makes a habit of attacking Quinn?” Victoria asked.

  Cully eyed Victoria assessingly. He glanced at Nikki and Lonna, both listening with interest. “Quinn and I have a history with Eileen,” he said without inflection. He stood. “Dance with me, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “All right.” Victoria placed her fingers on his outstretched palm and slid out of the booth. He ushered her ahead of him to the less crowded end of the dance floor before taking her into his arms.

  “You were going to tell me about your stepmother and Quinn,” she prompted.

  He grinned, his teeth flashing whitely against tanned skin. “That’s right. But I’d rather you talked to me about you and Quinn. What’s going on with you two?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Victoria didn’t hesitate, meeting his shrewd stare with blank innocence.

  “I mean that my brother has been nearly impossible to live with for the past few weeks. Maybe it’s a coincidence that his bad mood started the same day he met you, but I don’t think so.”

  “Bad mood? Are you saying that I did something to upset your brother?” Victoria didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. She didn’t like either option.

  “Did you do something to upset him?” Cully grinned at her and lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, I think the fact that you’re female and he’s male was enough to do it.”

  Victoria’s heart rate settled. “What exactly are you saying?” she asked bluntly.

  “I’m saying that you’ve got my big brother running around in circles talking to himself. What I want to know is, what happened? Why are you dancing with every other guy in the place while he looks like he’s contemplating murder across the room.”

  Startled, Victoria twisted in his arms to look over her shoulder at the long bar, but Quinn wasn’t where she’d last seen him. It took a few moments to locate him where he leaned against the wall, alone at the far end of the dance floor. His grim expression left no doubt that he wasn’t in a happy mood.

  “He’s contemplating murder?” she repeated, her gaze returning to Cully’s.

  “Close enough.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Victoria was beginning to hope that maybe Quinn was as dissatisfied with his “no contact” edict as she was.

  “Hmm.” Cully eyed her judiciously. “It’s probably a bad thing for whoever’s dancing with you if Quinn loses his temper. Fortunately, he rarely does. It might be a good thing if you happen to be looking for some proof that he’s interested.”

  “Mmm.” Victoria murmured.

  Cully bent closer to search her face. “Can I take that to mean that you’re interested?”

  “Maybe,” she responded noncommittally.

  He narrowed his eyes in frustration.

  “You’re as bad as Quinn. Would it hurt you to tell me if there’s a chance you’ll put the poor guy out of his misery?”

  “Cully…” Victoria began, then paused and stared at him, unsure.

  “What?” he prompted.

  She debated whether or not to be politely noncommittal. She decided in favor of bluntness. “Quinn’s made it clear that he’s not interested in spending time with me.”

  The disbelief on Cully’s face told her that he didn’t believe her.

  “Quinn can be downright contrary, Victoria, but I’ve never known him to be stupid. And that would be stupid.”

  “Nevertheless,” she said firmly, a shade of irritation seeping into her tone. “That’s exactly what he said.”

  “Tell me what he said—exactly.”

  “He told me that he wouldn’t be back—to find myself a safe man and to forget it happened.”

  “Forget what happened?”

  The swift mental image of Quinn’s mouth and body fused to hers sent color flooding up Victoria’s throat, heating her cheeks. “Never mind.” Cully’s lips parted to form another question, and she spoke quickly to forestall him. “I’m sure you know your brother better than I do, but he certainly didn’t seem confused about what he wanted. And I haven’t seen him since, so I have no reason to believe that he’s changed his mind. So you see,” she said firmly, “you must be wrong. If your brother has been in a bad mood lately, it isn’t because of me.”

  “Hmm.” Cully’s gaze searched her features. “And you’re okay with this? You don’t want to see him, either?”

  The quick emotion that swept Victoria was so swift that she couldn’t hide it. The instant, satisfied grin that curved Cully’s lips told her that he had his answer. Still, she shook her head.

  “I’m not pining away because your brother isn’t interested in me, Cully,” she said firmly.

  “I can see that,” he responded. He moved her across the floor, deftly avoiding other couples as he swung her out and back with quick steps. “Both you and my brother are happy as can be—couldn’t be more pleased with the status quo, right?”

  “Right.” Victoria had to concentrate on the moves, ducking her head as he twirled her under his arm.

  “No hard feelings, just friends, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, in that case, you won’t mind dancing with him.”

  “Well, I don’t know about…”

  He ignored her protest. He swung her away from him and let go of her hand. Before Victoria could react, momentum sent her spinning into another body. Arms closed around her, hands gripping her waist. Even before she looked up, instinct told her who held her.

  Quinn could have killed his brother, but the sheer relief of having Victoria in his arms made him decide to let Cully live. His gaze flicked over her startled face and then past her shoulder. His brother gave him a satisfied grin and turned his back to disappear into the crowd.

  Shock gave way to awareness and Victoria tightened her grip on his forearms, her body tensing as she prepared to push away from him.

  “Your brother…” she began, irritation seeping into her voice.

  “Can be a real pain…” Quinn finished for her. His hands tightened at her waist, holding her against him. She looked up at him and frowned. “But every now and then, he does something right.”

  She stopped pushing against his arms, her body resting lightly against his. “Is this one of those times?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, his gaze stroking over her flushed face. Her hair gleamed silver in the dim light and he lifted a hand to smooth it away from her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm beneath his fingertips and Quinn gave in to the need to hold her a little longer. “Dance with me.”

  It wasn’t really a request, but Victoria nodded agreement nonetheless. He pushed away from the wall, shifting her backward, lifted her hands to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her waist to tuck her against him.

  Victoria closed her eyes and leaned into him, her forehead resting against the soft cotton shirt covering his shoulder. Warm, solid muscle shifted beneath her palms, fingers and forehead. The faintly rough cotton of his shirt brushed and caught on her silk blouse, teasing the tips of her breasts.

  His arms tightened fractionally, urging her closer and she allowed it, seduced by the lure of warm male, drugged with the scent of the blend of faintly spicy aftershave, soap, fresh air and an indefinable unique scent that was Quinn.

  “This isn’t good,” she murmured to herself.

  “It’s too good,” Quinn’s deep voice rumbled, husky and strained, in her ear. “And that’s a problem.”

  “You keep telling me that,” she protested, opening her eyes and tipping her head back, just enough to meet his hooded gaze. “I’m having trouble accepting it.”

  “Maybe I’ve made a mistake.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. “Are you telling me that you’re interested in an hour or two of great sex in the nearest motel?”

  Victoria
stiffened. “Is that all you’re interested in? What about dinner and movies? There’s more to a relationship between a man and a woman than great sex.”

  “Not for me,” he said grimly. “I don’t do relationships.”

  “Why not? If you ever tried getting to know a woman outside of a bedroom, maybe…”

  “I’ve tried,” he interrupted. “It didn’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  Quinn shrugged, his eyes bleak. “She told me that I was hot in bed and cold out of it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, honey, that we could have great sex but I don’t do relationships.” His hand slipped lower, fingers splaying over her back just below her waist, and pressed her hips against his. “We’d burn up the sheets.”

  Victoria caught her breath. He was heavy, aroused, and as they swayed to the music, the slight movements of his hips against hers were powerfully seductive.

  She fought to clear her passion-fogged brain.

  “I want more than hot sex,” she managed to get out, her voice unsteady.

  His eyelids drooped lower, his eyes watchful as he searched her face.

  “Most women do, honey.”

  “What makes you so sure all we could have is great sex?” she demanded, frustrated.

  “Experience,” he said flatly.

  “Well, maybe you’ve just met the wrong women. Even dyed-in-the-wool rakes settle down sometime.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not likely to happen with me.”

  He glanced over her shoulder. Although his arms still held her, Victoria could have wept at the distance that stretched between them.

  The music stopped and he released her, taking a step back.

  “Thanks for the dance.”

  “You’re welcome,” Victoria responded automatically, standing still, watching him walk away from her once again, threading his way through the crowd to disappear through the exit.

  It wasn’t until his broad back was no longer visible that Victoria glanced around and realized that he had left her a few steps from the booth.

  She slipped onto the seat and lifted a longneck amber bottle, grimacing as the yeasty taste of beer hit the back of her throat.