Seduction, Cowboy Style

by Anne Marie Winston

  Her mouth was soft and sweet under his, and he drew her closer, loving the familiar feel of her, relief flowing through him. He’d been afraid, deep down, that he wasn’t going to be able to make her believe him, to make her see that he hadn’t just been following a plan by the time they’d made love, that he’d fallen in love with her. He’d fallen in love with her. He loved her. He’d felt it, but he hadn’t acknowledged it until now.

  But he was going to have a chance to show her what she meant to him. She still loved, him and everything was going to be all right.

  She was a fool and she knew it.

  But as Deck’s mouth took hers and his tongue slipped slowly around the outline of her lips before gently moving on, she knew she was going to take this night as one last gift from the gods. Despite everything that had happened, she loved this man. And because she did, she couldn’t resist him when he needed her.

  He needed her now, she was quite sure. He’d needed comfort of a different kind earlier, and she’d been able to give him that. Now she could offer physical ease, and as his hands moved over her, she was glad that he needed her this way. He might not love her but he needed her.

  And when she’d gone, he would remember this. Remember that she’d been kind and caring and…and loving, when she could have turned him away.

  Their mouths clung as he urged her to her feet, then stripped back the sheets on the bed and drew her down. Slowly he removed her clothing and let her help him with his until there were no barriers and they were hot, hard skin to soft, sleek skin; strong, steely man to yielding, wanting woman.

  When he kissed his way down the slope of her breast and took the taut peak into his mouth, she couldn’t catch back the wince that escaped. The reason for her ultrasensitivity fluttered on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed the words that wanted to blurt themselves out. Her baby wasn’t going to become anyone else’s problem. “Be gentle,” she breathed.

  “I’m sorry.” He immediately softened his fierce assault on her sensitive flesh, and she made a satisfied noise of pleasure at the sensation that streaked through her. He remembered everything, how she liked to be touched, where his callused fingers elicited the strongest reaction, what his questing mouth and hands could do to bring her to a writhing, moaning peak. But too soon, he moved over her and parted her legs.

  Then he paused. “Wait. I have to—”

  “No.” She caught at his shoulders. “You don’t have to.”

  He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  She laughed, hoping he didn’t question the source of her amusement. “Positive.”

  He didn’t question her again, simply put his hand between them and eased himself into her. He filled her so completely, so gently and sweetly that she felt tears come to her eyes. If only—

  “Am I hurting you?” His voice was deep and hushed.

  You’re breaking my heart. “No.”

  He made a skeptical sound, lowering his head, and she realized he was licking away the tears that had slipped back from her eyes into her hair. “Silver, I—”

  “Shhh.” She put a hand over his lips, muffling the sound, then slipped her hand aside and replaced it with her lips, kissing him so fervently that he followed her lead, and she knew he would forget about talking.

  Her body was hot, slippery, silky, the feel of his naked flesh a powerfully seductive sensation. Her hands streaked over him like lightning as he immediately began a steady motion that pleasured her with every stroke. She was panting beneath him, damp hands stroking over his body. Palming his buttocks, she pulled him hard against her, and he took her hips in his big hands, angling her up so that his thrusts crashed against her pelvis in a frantic rhythm that she welcomed. After only a few moments he began to surge against her. The world receded as she clung to him, accepting his domination until, with a small whimper, she began to convulse beneath him. Her back arched, her legs climbed his back and her inner muscles caressed him in tight, steady waves. Within seconds he climaxed, emptying the pulsing jets of his seed into her until the full weight of his big, utterly relaxed body pressed her into the mattress.

  Long moments passed, moments in which her thundering heartbeat slowed and settled into a steadier rhythm. Deck’s breathing became less tortured, his body even more boneless. At one point he lifted his head from where it lay beside her ear and muttered, “Am I getting too heavy?”

  “No.” She whispered the word, tightening her arms around his neck.

  They lay in silence for a long time. Finally Deck rolled over, keeping his arms wrapped around her so that she simply switched places with him.

  “I want to tell you again that I’m sorry.”

  Her head lay on his chest; she didn’t lift it. “Thank you.”

  That apparently satisfied him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t—”

  “Not now.” She still refused to lift her head from his chest. She could hear the strong beat of his life force in his heart’s repetitive rhythm, and she focused on that to ease the sadness creeping into her mood. She was going to remember every moment of this last time, imprint it in her mind to warm her on the cold, lonely days she knew lay ahead.

  “All right.” His voice was tender, and his big hands stroked up and down her spine, slipping over her so gently she wanted to cry again. “I don’t blame you for still being mad. It’ll take time for you to forgive me. I can live with that.”

  But I can’t.

  She didn’t say the words. He would never accept her saying them, because he was determined to have her. But he didn’t love her. She knew that. She’d been a means to an end, and he’d decided to enjoy her for a while. He’d never said anything about permanence. He’d said she was beautiful and that he’d wanted her. And clearly that hadn’t changed.

  But all that was beside the point. She stroked her hand over his chest in sad acceptance. He’d used her and no matter how much she might care for him, she would never trust him again. He wasn’t after her money. But he’d used her in another way, a way that made marrying a woman for her fortune seem almost benign in comparison.

  Deck had used her to hurt her brother. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t ever let him do it again.

  Eight

  He damn near danced through his work the next morning, even though he had gotten home barely in time to get himself redressed to start another day. Okay, so maybe Silver had been reserved and quiet except for the times during the night when they’d made love, but he expected that. Everybody knew women liked to hold things over a man’s head for a while.

  Once she’d gotten that out of her system, he would figure out where to go from here. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen. He hated to force her to choose, but he didn’t plan to let her get away from him again. And that meant defying her brother. It was going to hurt her, no matter how supportive he was. But they’d get past it. He would make sure of it.

  Marty came out of the barn on his bay gelding mid-morning while Deck was repairing the fence around what passed for Marty’s vegetable garden. Deck tried to wipe the silly grin off his face, but his brother slowed and stopped, eyeing him as if he’d sprouted horns.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “Me? Nothing.”

  Marty snorted. “At breakfast, you were whistling. You never whistle at breakfast. A grunt is usually the limit of your conversational appeal. Now you’re walking around here smiling like you just won the lottery.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  “Maybe that lottery is why you didn’t get home until six o’clock this morning.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You went to Lyn Hamill’s birthday party yesterday. Would there have been a certain silver-eyed fox at the same party?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does this mean she’s off-limits again?”

  Deck felt his good humor slip a notch. “Definitely.”

  “Hmm.” Marty raised his eyebrows. “Not maybe?”

  “Definitely not maybe.”

  “I see.
So where does the fact that she’s McCall’s sister enter into your delirium?”

  Deck scowled. “Hell if I know.” He stood and stretched his limbs, and his voice was sure and hard when he spoke again. “All I know is I still want her and I’ve still got her. And I intend to keep her, no matter what her damned brother says.”

  Marty nodded. “Whatever you say.” He hitched his thumb in a generally southern direction. “I’m going to ride down toward the river bottom today and see if those buffalo have come through the fence anywhere. If I’m not back by dinner, how ’bout I meet you at the city bar later?”

  Deck nodded. He knew his niece, Cheyenne, had spent the night with her cousins, and Marty had probably talked his sister-in-law into keeping her a second night. “Sounds good. If my plans change, I’ll leave a message there.” Then he remembered the ad Marty had shown him weeks ago. He’d been so wrapped up in his own problems he hadn’t given it a thought, but now he was intensely curious. “You have any takers for the position you advertised?”

  Marty narrowed his eyes. “I might have.”

  “I’ll be damned.” For the first time in days he laughed aloud. “You did! Who is she?”

  “I’ve had two answers so far.” His brother’s voice discouraged questions.

  It had no effect on Deck. “So did you meet them yet?”

  Marty nodded. “Yes. Neither one of them was quite what I had in mind.”

  “You mean neither one was a beauty queen?” Everyone around knew Marty had always had an eye for the prettiest girls. His wife had been the homecoming queen and just about the most beautiful girl in Jackson County.

  “They were both very nice.”

  “But…?”

  “But nothing, you Nosey Parker.”

  Deck pulled his face into serious lines. “Wow. You must have struck out big-time if you couldn’t convince either one of them to marry you.”

  “I did not ‘strike out,”’ said Marty. His voice was aggrieved. “You want to know all the dirty details? Fine, here they are. The first lady advertised her age as mid-thirties, but when we met it was pretty clear she’d had a memory lapse because she was fifty if she was a day. The second one…well, let’s just say the second one thought drinking one beer meant I was an alcoholic. She also was appalled that I don’t take Cheyenne to church on a regular basis and gave me a two-hour lecture on the evils of the world.” He shook his head, smiling at his own predicament. “Needless to say, I didn’t call her again.”

  Deck crossed his arms. “I told you this was a stupid idea.”

  “It’s not a stupid idea. I just have to keep trying.” Marty turned his horse and began to ride away. “When I find the right one, I won’t have any trouble convincing her I’m a great catch.” He grinned as he looked over his shoulder at Deck. “Unlike some people I could name.”

  Marty was late getting to the bar in the evening.

  Deck wasn’t in the greatest of moods to start with. Marty’s comment had been a joke, he knew, but it had stuck in his craw. Then he’d called Silver half a dozen times during the day, but there was no answer at the McCall ranch. He didn’t want to leave a message in case her brother hassled her about him. Dammit! After last night he’d expected she’d be waiting to hear from him.

  Maybe she was. Maybe Cal had been around and she hadn’t wanted to answer the phone with him hanging over her shoulder.

  His mood grew darker while he ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing himself. This situation wasn’t going to last for long. Silver was going to have to tell her brother to back off and let her—let her what?

  Date him? The relationship in his head didn’t feel much like something as casual as dating. He knew she loved him. At least, he was pretty sure she did, and he loved her. But where did they go from there? He couldn’t imagine making her choose between him and her brother.

  He was standing on the edge of a steep plateau in a high wind, staring down into a place he’d never imagined himself going. Problem was, it was like the middle of a moonless night and he couldn’t see where he was going. Or where this relationship was going. He couldn’t see a future that ended with everyone happy, and he didn’t much like the fact that it scared the hell out of him.

  The door of the bar opened and he glanced at the newcomers just like every other person in the place. Marty came in, spotting him and heading toward his stool at the bar. Then the action in the room seemed to slow and stop as the door opened again and Cal McCall stepped in.

  In an instant, all earlier thoughts were wiped away. The familiar burning fire in his gut flared as his former friend let the glass door slowly shut behind him.

  McCall’s face was frozen into a rictus of rage, his gaze fierce as he scanned the room. In less than a second, the eyes that were a darker version of Silver’s zeroed in on him, and Cal strode across the floor.

  “You lousy bastard,” he said to Deck. “Get up so I can knock you down.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Despite Marty’s harsh protest and the aghast murmurs behind him, Deck slid off his stool and spread his arms wide, eyeing the man whom he held responsible for his sister’s death.

  The space between the two men narrowed and hardened into a sheet of thick, freezing ice. Deck stared at the familiar gray eyes, unblinking, as a parade of years galloped through his mind: wild races on horseback, swimming in the river, speculating about which girls would do it and what a virgin would be like, lying through their teeth about what they’d done with whom last Saturday night…but always ending, always, with the moment that had changed all their lives forever.

  The big man bared his teeth. “I should have killed you when I caught you with my sister.”

  Deck smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly expression. “You and what army? You want to talk about sisters? We can talk about sisters any day of the week. Tell me, McCall, have you done anybody else in since you killed my sister?”

  Behind the bar Lula May gasped, and the sound hung in the still, smoky air. Slowly McCall flexed his hand. His lean features hardened into a black mask of anger that would have made a lesser man shrink back. “I didn’t kill your sister,” he said through his teeth. “God knows I’d have traded places with her if I could have, if only to spare the decent members of your family their pain.”

  “Huh.” Deck loaded the single syllable with contempt.

  Marty stepped forward. “Let’s take this outside,” he suggested in a low voice.

  “Why?” Cal never looked away from Deck. “So nobody will hear what he did to my sister?”

  “I didn’t do a damn thing to your sister that she didn’t want me to do.” Deck was goading the bigger man, and a perverse part of him was enjoying every minute of it. He saw Cal’s shoulders tense and his weight shift from foot to foot and he knew McCall was about to take a swing at him.

  Good. If Cal wanted to beat him to a pulp he wasn’t going to stop him. Because he was as much at fault for what had happened thirteen years ago as Cal had been.

  It had been years before he could let himself admit it, years before he could face the fact that Cal wasn’t the only one who’d made a mistake that night. He, Deck, wasn’t blameless in Genie’s death. Cal had come to him first for a ride home. He’d been all too happy to dump Cal on Genie when she’d offered to take him home, all too happy to wash his hands of anything that might interfere with his overactive teenage libido. He’d been treating Cal McCall like road dirt for years in his dreams of revenge, forgetting—or refusing to face that fact—that he’d been just as thoughtless as Cal that night.

  And the way you treated Silver isn’t going to win you any medals, either. Somehow, letting the other man beat him senseless seemed like a fitting punishment. He forced himself to smile through the pain that lanced through him. “As I recall, Silver liked what I did so much that she begged me—”

  He never finished the sentence. Cal’s immense fist came flying at him, catching him solidly on the jaw and knocking him back across a table. I will not f
ight back. Despite the rage coursing through him, he repeated the sentence over and over.

  As he struggled to his feet, Cal came to stand over him. “That’s for making my sister cry. This—” He hammered Deck again “—is for getting her pregnant and walking away from your responsibility.”

  Stars were exploding in his head. He was dimly aware of the shocked reactions of the other patrons in the bar to Cal’s words, but the shock wave rolling through his own system nearly obliterated anything else.

  Silver was pregnant?

  Lula May was trying to get him to sit down and put ice on his jaw, but he struggled to his feet again while Marty and two other cowboys were restraining Cal. “I never walked…” Cal’s words were reverberating in his head with the steady force of a jackhammer. “Silver’s not pregnant,” he said. “She can’t be.”

  Ha. Remember the first time…?

  “Oh, no?” The other men had released Cal, and the rage crackling from him seemed to have evaporated with the second blow. He hung his head as if he were too weary to hold it up. “I found directions for a pregnancy test kit on the bathroom floor today, and when I confronted her, she told me herself. So don’t tell me she can’t be. You self-centered, worthless cowboy. Do you think you’re the only person in the world who misses Genie?”

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Marty. “What about her other brother? What about her friends? Have you ever really thought about how I feel? At least you don’t have to live with the knowledge that your behavior cost her her life.”

  Oh, but I do. You aren’t the only one with blood on his hands.

  Unaware of Deck’s tortured thoughts, Cal’s lip curled as he stared at Deck with naked hatred on his face. “I’m only giving you one warning. If you come near Silver again, I’ll kill you.”

  As Cal turned and slammed out of the city bar, Deck stood blankly, his mind so focused on Cal’s words that little else penetrated his brain. Silver was pregnant.