Code Name: Cowboy

by Carla Cassidy

  It had been over a year since she’d made love with any man and Robert had been her first and only. She had a feeling Cameron’s expectations would be quite different, that unlike Robert, Cameron’s appetite would be voracious and he might find her relative inexperience uninspiring.

  Cameron gave her no time to entertain further doubts and nerves. He lay her on the bed and joined her there, his mouth once again finding hers as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

  As he kissed her, his fingers worked the buttons that ran up the front of her dress, nimbly unfastening each one. She did the same to his shirt, wanting... needing to feel his naked chest, wanting... needing to tangle her fingers in the springy dark hair that grew there.

  She finished with his shirt buttons at the same time he unfastened the last of the buttons on her dress. Gently, as if unwrapping a precious package, he opened her dress, allowing the material to fall to either side of her, exposing her bra, panty hose and panties to the naked heat of his gaze.

  In turn, she sat up and peeled his shirt from his shoulders, pushing it off to bare his broad chest. In the faint spill of light from the hallway, his skin gleamed bronze, looking eminently touchable. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his flesh, felt his swift intake of breath at her intimate touch.

  Cameron leaned forward and pulled her against him, her chest against his as his hands went behind her and unsnapped her lacy bra. The wispy material fell into his hands. He tossed it aside and covered her breasts with his palms.

  Alicia closed her eyes, responding to his touch as if his hands were electric sockets conducting power through her. She heard herself moan, the sound deep and throaty as he captured a nipple between two fingers. Tingles of pleasure coursed through her as his hands worked magic.

  With Robert, making love had always been quick and accomplished in the dark. Cameron seemed to be in no hurry. He touched her face, smoothed fingers over her collarbones, captured her breasts once again in the warmth of his palms.

  He acted as if they had all of eternity to complete the act and Alicia’s desire climbed to uncharted new heights.

  She was the one who took off her panty hose, then grasped the waistband of his jeans and plucked impatiently. He laughed, an indulgent deep rumble that reverberated in the pit of her stomach. “Patience, sweet Alice,” he said, but patience wasn’t what she saw shining from his eyes.

  Within minutes he’d slid out of his jeans, exposing a pair of cotton briefs and the evidence of a desire impossible to deny. She slid a leg across his, reveling in the feel of his dark hair against the silken smoothness of her own.

  He was so utterly male, so undeniably masculine and being in his arms made her feel more female than she’d ever felt in her life. She never would have guessed him a gentle man, but each caress was accompanied by a kiss. His hands, although the hands of a rancher, calloused and weatherworn, touched her with infinite tenderness.

  And in his touch, in each of his kisses, she saw his heart. Not the hard soul he presented to the world, but the heart of the inner man he kept so tightly controlled. A man she suspected capable of great emotion and tremendous sensitivity.

  By the time he removed her panties, she felt as if her entire body was a single nerve singing the energy of mindless desire. And when he removed his underwear she touched him there...where he throbbed and ached, loving the sounds he made as she stroked him. When he rose to cover her, she pushed him back and smiled. “Patience, sweet Cameron,” she whispered, and was rewarded by his burst of laughter.

  The laughter lasted only a moment, then they became a tangle of arms and legs, a flurry of kisses and caresses. Alicia felt herself melting away, drifting on a cloud of unimaginable pleasure.

  This was what it was supposed to be, she thought with what little rational mind was left. This is what the movies talk about, what inspires poets to write. This was what she had never had before. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gave silent thanks that at least this once she was experiencing this kind of wild, euphoric desire.

  She cried out in pleasure as he entered her. For a moment he remained still, as if savoring the feel of her. In that single moment of unity, Alicia knew completeness, knew nothing she’d ever experienced with Robert had come close to this kind of absolute wholeness.

  He moved against her and she arched up to meet him, their movements becoming more frenzied as he stroked her deep and hard. She clutched at his back, then wrapped her legs around him and eagerly drew him inside her.

  He pulsated within her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that stole her breath. He owned her. As his body possessed hers, he owned her heart. She tangled her hands in his hair, then clutched again at his back, half-crazed as he carried her higher and higher.

  And then she was there, tumbling over the precipice, plunging into a place void of feelings, fraught with sensation. She cried his name as she rode the crest of the waves of pleasure. Tears once again burned her eyes, slipped down her cheeks as she realized she wanted this night to last forever. She wanted to be in his arms for a lifetime.

  He stiffened against her as he reached his peak. “Alice,” he cried and in that moment reality slammed back into her. There would be no forever. Her name wasn’t Alice and she had no lifetime to offer him.

  Cameron awoke just before dawn. He turned over in bed, seeking the warmth of Alice, but she was gone. Her pillow still held the imprint of her head and when he placed his hand where she’d been, he felt the residual heat from her body.

  He sat up, raked a hand through his hair and moved his shoulders, the last of his sleep falling away. He cocked his head and caught the faint sound of the shower running. Instantly his mind filled with a vision of her standing beneath a hot spray of water. And just as quickly his desire returned as if it hadn’t been sated only hours before.

  He’d envisioned what making love to Alice would be like for the past four weeks, but nothing in his imagination had prepared him for the reality. She’d been far more passionate than he’d ever dreamed. She’d given as well as received, lost herself completely in the act. It had been an incredible experience, one he wanted to repeat.

  Before allowing misgivings to enter his mind, he got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Steamy warmth and the scent of strawberries greeted him as he opened the bathroom door. He stepped into the thick vapor and closed the door behind him.

  He paused a brief moment, wondering if she would welcome his company beneath the shower spray. Without allowing doubts to halt him, he slid open the glass shower door.

  She whirled around and faced him, eyes wide in surprise. Hair slicked back and without a single dab of makeup, she looked as beautiful as he’d ever seen her.

  “I thought you might like your back scrubbed,” he said, his voice husky as he drank in the vision of her.

  She didn’t answer, but handed him a loofah sponge and presented him her back. He stepped into the enclosure and pulled the door tightly closed.

  The sponge smelled of sun-ripened strawberries and he realized it was some kind of body wash she used. He squeezed some of the red gel onto the sponge and swirled it across her back. Back and forth, up and down, he was mesmerized by the action.

  He heard her breath quicken as his caresses encircled her upper ribs, flirting with the sides of her breasts. His own breath escaped on a ragged sigh as he moved closer to her. His body pressed against hers and the warm cascade of water washed over them.

  She leaned back against him, moaning softly as he moved the loofah across one breast and then the other. He dipped his head forward and kissed her shoulder, the skin impossibly silky beneath his lips.

  He moved his hips back and forth against her buttocks, the friction creating an explosive need inside him. He moved back from her, wanting control and afraid of losing it too quickly.

  Turning in his arms, she raised her face to him and his lips sought hers. As they kissed, she reached down and grasped him, her hands slippery with sweet-smelling suds. The sensation
of the water, the taste of her mouth against his and her hand enclosing around him nearly undid him.

  “Not yet,” he whispered against her neck. “Not until I’ve tasted every inch of you.” Her eyes flared at his words and her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand fell away and she leaned weakly against the side of the shower.

  He began at her mouth, plying it with heat, then moved to her shoulders...her collarbones...and down to her breasts. He used his mouth, his tongue and little nips of his teeth to evoke whimpers of pleasure from her. He dropped the forgotten sponge on the floor, preferring to use his hands to smooth across her soft skin.

  From her breasts he kissed down the flat of her abdomen, working from one side to the other to taste each place where he felt a rib.

  Her moans increased in intensity, feeding him with their erotic sounds. She tossed her head from side to side, her eyes narrowed and turned a deep shade of blue.

  Her pubic hair was pale, attesting to her true coloring and he rubbed across the core of her sexuality with a single finger. She cried out and arched her back, as if urging him on.

  He needed no prodding. He continued caressing, touching, tasting, wanting to possess her as no man ever had before. Her pleasure became his. Each of her moans evoked one of his own. It was as if they were a single body and he lost track of where she ended and he began. He felt her climax approaching and increased the fervor of his caresses, wondrous at how completely she gave herself to him. She held nothing back and as she tumbled over the edge, she cried his name again and again.

  He entered her, slid into her tight heat and felt the last of his control slip away. Her muscles tightened around him, as if seeking to keep him trapped inside her forever. They moved like lovers well accustomed to each other, fitting together with a perfection Cameron had never known.

  With the steam surrounding them, he felt cut off from the rest of the world, transported to a place where there was only Alice...sweet-smelling, sweet-tasting Alice.

  He felt the end approaching, felt himself swelling with the approach of it. He wanted her with him and he picked her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist while he remained buried deep within her.

  In this position, he dipped his head forward and captured one of her erect, pink nipples with his mouth. Her entire body grew taut and he knew by the glaze of her eyes, the moan that began deep in her throat that she was there. He closed his eyes and let go, felt their simultaneous completion sweep over them.

  As she once again cried his name again and again, he felt a small piece of his heart...a piece that had been ice-cold for so long warm and melt away.

  He held her until their breathing had returned to normal, until the cascade of water turned tepid, portending the end of the heated water in the tank. Only then did he set her feet back on the ground and smile. “Now that’s how to take a shower.”

  She smiled, but he sensed her sudden shyness and an awkward moment of silence sprang between them. He stepped out of the shower stall. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, then slid the door closed.

  He grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around his waist, then left the bathroom, knowing she would prefer to dry and dress without his company.

  He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of his work jeans and a thick flannel shirt. As he buttoned the shirt he moved to the window, where dawn was just beginning to break, lighting the eastern sky with pink and gold.

  Dawn’s light brought with it a small ration of regret. For the past three weeks he’d wanted Alice, and he’d hoped by making love to her the wanting would ease. But it hadn’t. Even now, fully sated thoughts of her stirred him.

  He went downstairs and started the coffee, refusing to dwell on her or his own regrets. They’d had their night together, and a bonus round this morning. It should be enough.

  He was seated at the table sipping fresh brew when she entered the kitchen. Her cheeks pinkened as her gaze met his, but her smile was soft...an intimate smile for him alone.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  He shook his head and gestured to his mug. “This is fine.”

  She poured herself a cup and sank into the chair across from him. Again an awkward silence rose up, creating tension that filled the room. She laughed self-consciously, breaking the silence. “This is hard, isn’t it? I’m not sure what to say to you...how to act.”

  “I suppose we act like we have every other morning you’ve been here,” he replied. “Nothing’s changed. Not really.” He heard the defensive edge in his own voice.

  She eyed him wryly. “Don’t worry Cameron, I don’t expect anything from you. I remember...no promises, no commitments and it suits me just fine. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  For some reason her words irritated him. “What? You like me well enough to sleep with, but not well enough for anything else?”

  She studied him thoughtfully. “I don’t know you well enough for anything else. You’re a difficult man to get to know, Cameron Gallagher.”

  He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

  She sipped her coffee, her gaze not wavering from his. She placed her cup back in her saucer. “Did you always want to be a rancher?”

  He nodded and smiled. “I’m kind of like Rebecca. I knew I wanted to be a cowboy from the time I was a small child.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes glowing with warmth as if she were enjoying a peek into his past. “Did you grow up on a ranch?”

  “No. When I was seventeen my parents moved from Detroit to Billings and it was then I got my first real taste of ranch life.”

  “You mentioned before that your father was dead. What about your mother? Is she still alive?”

  A sharp pain pierced through him. “She died with my father in the plane accident.” The pain intensified as he thought of the months just before their death. Still grieving for Ginny, still reeling with Samuel’s betrayal, Cameron had closed himself off from everyone, lost precious moments with his parents.

  “Cameron, I’m so sorry.” Alice’s hand covered his, warm and soft and sweetly comforting.

  He stood, jerking his hand from hers. “I’d better get to the chores. The morning will be gone before we know it.”

  He didn’t want her comforting touch, and he didn’t want her peeks into his past. She didn’t need to know him, just as he didn’t care about her. They’d been bed partners for a night. Nothing more.

  Not waiting for her reply, not wanting to even look at her, he grabbed a work jacket and his hat from the coat tree then left the kitchen through the backdoor.

  The early morning air was cold, so cold he could see his breath. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the corral. The horse inside backed into the far corner, as far away from Cameron as the wooden confines would allow.

  Damn, she was stubborn, refusing to trust him. Within the next couple of days he’d need to move her inside. The weather was definitely taking a turn toward winter and in Montana snow could come without much warning.

  He watched the horse, pawing the ground, ears twitching nervously and his thoughts strayed to Alice. As he thought of their lovemaking, he came to a painful conclusion.

  His love for Ginny hadn’t been the right kind for two people planning a lifetime together. He’d loved Ginny as he loved Elena. It had been a protective love, but devoid of the kind of passion that swelled in him with thoughts of Alice. As the fantasy of his memories fell away, leaving only stark reality, he felt bereft and empty.

  Chapter 8

  Alicia stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the dismal, gray skies. The weather had taken a turn for the worse. Although there had been no snow yet, the temperatures had dropped below freezing and the sun hadn’t been seen all week.

  She turned her gaze toward Cameron and Rebecca. Cameron was showing Rebecca how to brush and curry a horse. Sugar, the small gentle mare, stood patiently beneath the little girl’s ministrations. Every few minutes Rebecca turned and smiled at Cameron and he
’d return her smiles with ones of his own.

  A week. It had been a full seven days since she and Cameron had made love. And since that night and early morning, he had become more distant than ever with her. He arose each morning before her and left for chores. He rarely joined her for lunch and even though the three of them shared the evening meal, he kept to himself, rarely speaking and then only to Rebecca.

  Although she tried to tell herself it was better this way, better that she remember she was his housekeeper, not his lover, she couldn’t help but wish for something more. And she knew her wishes were the dreams of fools.

  Not a single day passed that she didn’t wonder if Broderick had somehow discovered where she and Rebecca lived. Not a single day passed that she didn’t worry about their future.

  Her stash of money in her dresser drawer was growing...but oh, so slowly. If the time came when she’d have to fight Broderick and Ruth in a court of law she’d need a hundred times the amount in her drawer for the fight to be even close to fair.

  She turned away from the window as the phone rang, an unaccustomed noise in the house. There had only been about half a dozen times the phone had rung in the time she’d been here and then only two of the calls had been for Cameron, the rest of them had been for her. Elena had called twice to visit, and Marianne Hopkins had called to discuss school activities.

  “Hello?” she said when she picked up the receiver.

  Silence greeted her. Not the complete silence of a dead line, but rather the quiet whisper of somebody listening...breathing.

  “Hello?” she repeated, wondering if perhaps she was about to be assaulted by an obscene caller.

  An audible click was her reply. She held the receiver for a long moment, sudden chills racing up and down her spine.

  Had Broderick finally found them? Had she made a mistake? Somehow left a trail? Had the phone call been one of his subordinates confirming that she lived here?