She slid to her feet to stand in front of him. Her skirt fell back down her thighs, covering the fact that her panties still hung on the edge of his tailgate.
A fact he was all too aware of, if the tense set to his jaw was any indication.
He stood in front of her, his eyes gleaming in the growing shadows that surrounded them. His muscles bunched beneath his T-shirt. Taut lines carved his face, making him seem harsh, fierce, hungry.
She knew the feeling.
She swallowed against the sudden hollowness in her throat and fought to keep from reaching for the top button on her blouse. But then he murmured “Undress,” and she quickly obliged.
She slid the first button free, then the next and the next, until the silky material parted. A quick shrug and the blouse slid down her shoulders, her arms, to glide from her fingertips and pool at her feet.
Her fingers went to the clasp of her bra. A quick flick and the cups sagged. The lace fell away and his breath hitched. His gaze darkened and his nostrils flared as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen.
Her lips parted as she tried to drag some much-needed air into her own lungs. Her breasts heaved and his eyes sparkled, reflecting the last few rays of sunlight.
She touched the waistband of her skirt. Trembling fingers worked at the catch until the edges finally parted. She pushed the fabric down her legs and suddenly she was completely naked. Warm summer air slithered over her skin, amping up the heat already swamping her from the inside out.
“Damn, but you’re beautiful, Gracie.” The words were reverent and her heart beat that much faster, drowning out the sounds coming from below until the only thing she focused on was him and the way he was looking at her and the way it made her feel.
Sexy.
Alive.
Free.
“You’re not done.” His deep voice sent excitement rippling down her spine.
“I don’t have any clothes left.”
“I do. Take them off.”
She stepped forward to grasp the hem of his T-shirt. Flesh grazed flesh as she obliged him, pushing the material up his ripped abdomen, over his shoulders and head, until it fell away and joined her discarded clothes. A brief hesitation and she reached for the waistband of his jeans.
A groan rumbled from his throat as her fingertips trailed over the denim-covered bulge. She worked the zipper down, tugging and pulling until the teeth finally parted. The jeans sagged on his hips, and his erection sprang hot and pulsing into her hands.
She traced the ripe purple head before sliding her hand down his length, stroking, exploring. His dark flesh throbbed against her palm and her own body shuddered in response. She licked her lips and fought the urge to drop to her knees and taste him.
Luckily, he wasn’t nearly as restrained.
He drew her to him and kissed her roughly, his tongue delving deep into her mouth over and over until the ground seemed to tilt. And then he swept her up, laid her on the tailgate of his truck and plunged deep, deep inside.
12
SHE STILL HAD her panties.
Gracie held tight to the knowledge as she slipped inside her house later that night. The steady hum of a motor out front reminded her that Jesse still hadn’t pulled away yet.
Which meant she could easily forget the fact that she had to crawl out of bed before the crack of dawn in order to make it to Wednesday Waffles, the Senior Ladies’ weekly gathering. She was scheduled to recite the opening Pledge of Allegiance and serve the first waffle. Not a bad gig except half the group was diabetic and the other half had intestinal trouble. Forget stacks of fluffy golden squares topped with whipped cream and chocolate chips. The waffles were all-bran, served with sugar-free syrup and Myrtle Nell’s infamous prune compote.
Which meant instead of counting down the hours until tomorrow morning, Gracie would much rather haul open the door, throw herself at the cowboy idling in her driveway and beg for round two.
And three.
An all-nighter, as a matter of fact.
The urge gripped her and her hands trembled, but then Sugar Lips scrambled from the kitchen. Her claws slid across the hardwood floor in a frantic scrape as she rushed for the door.
Bran was good. Healthy.
Gracie latched onto that all-important fact and scooped up the white ball of fluff. The dog licked at her frantically for a few seconds before her high-pitched barks filled the air. Gracie set her on the floor and she danced in place for a few seconds before leading the way to the kitchen and the treat jar.
Gathering her control, Gracie forced herself away from the front door and followed Sugar Lips into the kitchen. She unearthed Sugar’s favorite powdered donuts from the cabinet and fed one to the frantic animal.
The dog wolfed down the goody and barked and danced for another.
“One a day. You know the rule.”
Rules. That was what life was all about. About respecting boundaries and walking the straight and narrow and playing it safe. That was who she was now, even if Jesse had made her forget that all-important fact for those few blissful moments at the river.
She was still the Gracie who ate granola for breakfast every morning and wore conservative shoes and spent her Saturday nights in front of the TV. She wasn’t wild and wicked.
Even if she had worn a black lace thong to the office yesterday. Sexy lingerie was her one indulgence. Pretty undies and lacy bras. Even the white cotton bikini panties she’d worn tonight were on the risqué side.
Which explained her thoughts at the moment.
The underwear. She needed to tame it down in a major way, which meant that first thing tomorrow she was going to do some online shopping for some sensible lingerie. Some Spanx and granny panties and boxy bras.
You’re still as out of control as ever.
He was wrong and he would see that soon enough.
She intended to make him see that, to keep the emotional wall as strong as ever between them so that when Sunday rolled around, it would be that much easier to say goodbye.
Because Gracie Stone didn’t want a forever with Jesse Chisholm. She wanted to get him out of her head. Her fantasies.
Once and for all.
That meant keeping her guard up, holding back and showing him she’d turned into a bona fide good girl.
He would gladly call it quits then and run the other way once he realized she truly had changed.
She just wished that fact didn’t suddenly bother her so much.
* * *
HE WANTED MORE.
The thought echoed in Jesse’s head as he sat outside the modest brick home a few blocks over from City Hall, his engine idling, his blood racing.
While they’d just gotten down and dirty in the bed of his pickup, they hadn’t come close to burning up the lust that blazed between them. He still felt every bit as restless. As hungry.
Not that he intended to do anything more about it tonight. He had to be up early tomorrow morning for a training session and he had no intention of letting their agreement get in the way of his next championship.
His heartbeat kicked up a notch as the lights flipped on inside and he watched her shadow move across the first-floor window. A vision played in his head and he saw her pushed up against a nearby wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands clawed at his shoulders and her tits bounced as he pumped into her and—
Awww, hell.
His gut tensed and his dick throbbed. He tightened one hand on the steering wheel and shoved the truck into Reverse with his other. With a squeal of tires, he pulled out of her driveway and headed for the motel.
Five minutes later, he sat idling in the parking lot, his attention fixed on the photographer camped out on the doorstep of his room. He’d expected the two from last night, but this guy was new. And probably ju
st another in a long line he was sure to encounter over the next few days.
He thought of calling the front desk but then changed his mind. He could have this guy escorted off the property, but there would just be another to take his place. Better to give them what they wanted, answer a few questions and let them have their photo op, which was what he fully intended to do.
Just not tonight.
He turned his pickup around and headed for the training facility that sat outside of town. Ten minutes later he pulled into the gravel parking lot and killed the engine. He headed for the exterior staircase that led to a small apartment over the main office. During rodeo time, the competing cowboys used the spot to unwind or catch a nap in between rides. With a window that overlooked the main arena, they could enjoy the other events while kicking back and conserving their strength.
The place sat dark and quiet now.
Jesse flipped on a switch and the overhead light chased away the dark shadows, revealing a large living space complete with a living room, a fully equipped kitchen and a bathroom. Jesse was just about to head for the bathroom and a nice cold shower when he saw a flicker of light beyond the wall of windows overlooking the dark arena.
He closed the distance to the glass and sure enough, a light bobbed in the far distance near the animal pens.
A few minutes later he rounded the first bull pen to find Troy spread out on a blanket, an iPod in one hand and a magazine in the other. The minute he saw Jesse, he snatched the headphones out of his ears. The magazine slapped together as he scrambled to his feet.
“What are you doing?”
“W-working late,” Troy blurted. “Eli wants us to clean out the pens first thing tomorrow. I thought I’d get a jump on it tonight.”
“So you’re here this late to clean pens?”
“Actually, I thought I’d just crash here and get an early start.”
“And your folks are okay with you sleeping here?”
“My mom is dead. A car wreck about eight years ago.” He shrugged. “My dad doesn’t care what I do. The only thing he cares about is getting drunk. He’s on a bender right now.” His gaze met Jesse’s. “If you let me stay here tonight, I promise I’ll be up before anyone gets here. I’ll even shovel all the stalls myself.”
“A car wreck, huh?”
Troy nodded. “She was on her way home from work.”
“My mom died when I was four,” Jesse murmured. “She had complications when she had my youngest brother. My dad was never much of a dad, either.”
“A drunk?”
“Among other things.” He eyed the blanket. “But you can’t sleep here.”
Troy’s head snapped up and his gaze collided with Jesse’s. “Please, Mr. Chisholm. I won’t get in the way. I promise.”
Jesse shook his head. “As much as I’d like to let you sleep right here, I’m afraid I can’t. If you start snoring, you might spook the bulls.” The kid actually looked ready to cry until Jesse added, “I’m bunking out in the small apartment upstairs, but there’s a pullout couch in the main office. Clean sheets in the cabinet. You can sleep there.”
“Really?”
Jesse nodded. “But only if you promise to get up five minutes early and put on a pot of coffee. If you’re camping out in the office, you’re in charge of the coffee machine.”
“I promise.”
“Get some sleep, then.” Jesse motioned toward the office. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Troy snatched up his blanket and magazine and made a beeline for the office. A smile played at his lips and Jesse’s chest tightened.
He knew exactly what Troy was feeling at the moment. He’d felt it himself every night when his dad had been three sheets to the wind and he and his brothers had bedded down in the old Buick just to get away from the chaos.
Relief.
Bone-deep, soothing relief because he didn’t have to worry about waking to a drunken rant or picking his dad up off the bathroom floor or winding up on the opposite end of his fist. For tonight, Troy was safe.
If only Jesse felt the same at the moment.
Instead, he was on edge. Wired. Desperate.
And all because of Gracie.
Yep, he wanted more, all right. And he had only four days to get it, because he was leaving first thing Sunday morning.
That meant he was going to have to spend a lot of time with her between now and then, more than just the proposed sneaking around after hours, that was for damned sure. No, Jesse needed to overindulge if he meant to get Gracie out of his system and lay the past to rest once and for all.
He had to.
Because Jesse was finally moving on with his life. But in order to move on, he needed to let go of the past.
Of Gracie.
He would.
But first he was going to haul her close and hold on tight.
13
WHEN GRACIE WALKED into City Hall on Wednesday morning, she was more than happy to find Trina ready and waiting with a full day’s itinerary. After a sleepless night spent reliving her encounter with Jesse, she needed something—anything—to get her mind off what had happened and how much she’d liked it.
And how she couldn’t wait until it happened again.
But she would wait because she had responsibilities. Places to go. People to see. Waffles to eat.
High-fiber bran waffles that looked like cardboard and tasted even more bland.
“These are interesting,” she said to the blue-haired woman sitting across from her.
“Don’t be silly, child. They taste terrible like that.” Myrtle Nell, president of the Senior Ladies’ Auxiliary and chairperson for the brunch, handed Gracie a bowl filled with a dark brown jellylike substance. “You need the prune compote on top to really bring out the flavor.”
“Wow. This looks yummy.” Not. Gracie watched as the woman heaped a few spoonfuls onto her plate and tried not to make a face.
“It’s homemade.” Myrtle motioned her to take another bite and Gracie had the sudden urge to run. Away from the waffles and the gossip.
Straight to Jesse.
She ditched the thought, forced herself to take a bite and tuned in to the conversation flying back and forth across the table.
She learned all about Carl Simon’s new hair plugs and Janet Green’s collagen injections and Helen Culpepper’s latest affair with some rancher from nearby Rusk County.
Carl had developed a massive infection from the plugs that no amount of antibiotic cream could touch. Janet had overdone the treatment and now looked like a blowfish. And Helen’s latest fling was a huge Brokeback Mountain fan.
The only thing she didn’t hear about was any mention of her run-in with Jesse in front of the bakery. Not that the entire town wasn’t privy to the information. They were, but they’d obviously written it off as a friendly exchange between politician and constituent.
That should have been enough to ease Gracie’s nerves. She was still worked up after a sleepless night spent replaying her evening with Jesse. Want gripped her, but she tamped it back down. She had obligations first. Responsibilities.
Which was why she forced down not one but two waffles before she headed over to the seventh-grade car wash.
“I’m ready to work,” she told Shirley Buckner, the fortysomething English teacher and supervisor for the fundraising event. Shirley wore blue-jean capris, a Lost Gun Middle School T-shirt and a haggard expression that said she needed a giant margarita a lot more than a helping hand.
She handed Gracie a bucket and directed her over to a dust-covered Chevy four-door pickup truck with the familiar Cartwright Ranch logo on the side. “You can start on Lloyd Cartwright’s truck. He brought in all six of them.” She indicated the row of matching vehicles that spanned the length of the middle school parki
ng lot.
“Oh, and smile.” Shirley lifted the camera that hung around her neck as an afterthought and clicked a picture. “Great. Now get moving.”
“Shouldn’t you take off the lens cap first?” Gracie pointed to the covering on the high-dollar camera similar to the one she’d had back in the day.
“A cap?” Shirley eyed the contraption as if seeing it for the first time. Her eyebrows drew together into a frown as she twisted the covering. The cap popped off into her hands. “Great. Just friggin’ great. I’ve shot over forty pictures in the past hour. All for nothing.” She grabbed the walkie-talkie from her belt. “Charlene? Is June still in the bathroom?”
“I sent her home. She’s really sick.”
“Great. Just friggin’ great.”
“June?” Gracie eyed the teacher. “June Silsbee? The reporter from the newspaper?”
Shirley nodded. “She was here covering the event for the paper, but then she upchucked in the parking lot on account of she’s pregnant with triplets. She and Martin did that in vitro thing. Anyhow, she handed me her camera and made a beeline for the restroom. I haven’t seen her since.” She eyed the camera. “The kids are so excited. The paper promised us front-page coverage, which we’re counting on because the car wash itself never brings in quite enough money. But then the paper comes out and we get a rush of donations from local businesses.” She shook her head. “But none of that’s going to happen, since I can’t even work this blasted thing.”
“I can.” The words were out before Gracie could stop them. Not that she would have. Her gaze shifted to the dozens of kids piled around a nearby car. They worked diligently, scrubbing and laughing. She ignored the doubt that rippled deep inside and gave in to the grin tugging at her lips. “Hand it over and I’ll see what I can do.”
She spent the next hour taking picture after picture while the kids sprayed and washed and got each other wet. She was just about to snap a pic of the girls choir group serenading one of the customers when she caught sight of a familiar pair of Wranglers in her peripheral vision.
She turned in time to see Jesse slam the door shut on his jacked-up pickup truck. He wore a fitted white T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged his muscles to perfection and tugged at the seams as he started toward her.
Texas Outlaws: Jesse Page 11