Hank avoided her, turning instead to the man across from him. “Lang, you know much about horses?”
A flash of keen interest brightened Lang’s gaze, then vanished just as quickly. His eyes narrowed, his expression grew wary. “Why do you ask?”
“I was supposed to take Miss Moore over to the auction in Tombstone, to pick out some horses but, I, um—”
Lang set his fork down. “You asking me to go with her?”
Victoria was stunned silent. Going to the auction had been Hank’s suggestion. He’d been excited about going. Now he was trying to push her off on a total stranger.
She scowled at him but he wasn’t looking her way. He was still waiting for Lang’s reply. Like a crusty saloon gambler’s, the old man’s expression gave nothing away, as he asked, “Could you?”
Victoria’s pulse kicked into high gear. Her father and stepmother made a habit of talking around her and she hated it. She opened her mouth to remind them both that The Circle Cat was her place but Lang cut her off.
“I thought I’d get started on the barn.”
The strain in Lang’s voice piqued her curiosity, so in spite of her frustrations, she kept her mouth shut, waited.
If Hank was right about Lang coming from a family of horse breeders, that could work in her favor. She needed expert advice. The best dude ranch in Arizona needed the best animals. Selecting hardy trail horses from an open lot couldn’t compare to the few well-researched purchases she’d made with her father.
The heavy silence returned, Victoria stubbornly waited it out while she studied her few remaining pieces of lettuce.
Lang sighed. “What kind of horses are you looking for, Victoria?”
So he was interested. In horses anyway. Or in going to Tombstone? “I need a dozen solid trail horses.”
He shifted his casserole around his plate. “I do need to get the lumber. And those lines I rigged on my truck, well, I need some parts from a garage.”
Hank shoved his chair back with a jerk and scooped up his dishes. “Thanks, Lang. I feel a whole lot better knowing Miss Moore won’t be at that auction alone. You never know what sort of unsavory characters might be hangin’ about.”
The old man set his plate on the counter and cleared out faster than Victoria had ever seen him move.
“Do you want me to go to Tombstone with you?” Lang asked, once they were alone.
Quiet honesty had replaced the earlier cocky attitude.
When she looked into his level gaze, she noticed tiny flecks of heated gold mixed in with the steady brown. The discovery of yet another contrast intrigued her. Lang Thompson was more than a wandering cowboy.
How much more? She lifted her eyebrows. “What do you know about horses?”
“Enough.” He looked away as he added, “I’ll need to stop for lumber.”
Obviously that was all the answer she was going to get. “Okay,” she said, rising to pick up the empty serving dishes. “We’ll go together.” She’d tried to make it sound fun, like they were two friends planning to spend the day together. But friendly did not describe the way he made her feel. Hot and bothered was a lot more accurate. Oh yes—and annoyed. Can’t forget that.
Victoria grabbed some of the empty serving plates and slipped over to the sink.
“You seem a little different tonight, Victoria,” Lang said softly, coming up behind her to set his plate on the counter.
His heat pressed into her backside, curled around her waist and settled in her stomach.
If he’d move closer, the hard angle of his hips would press against the soft curve of her hips…she arched her back in hopeful anticipation. When she spoke, her voice came out soft and low, surprising even her. “What do you mean, different.”
“Quiet. Reserved.”
The way he pronounced reserved, prickled her skin, nearly making her shiver against the warmth of his body. She twisted, asking over her shoulder, “What about you?”
His deep, rumbling chuckle brought back that image of him peeling off his shirt. “What do you mean, what about me?”
Unconsciously, her gaze dropped to his wide chest, her mind filling with questions. If only he hadn’t stopped undressing. Then she’d already know what the rest of him looked like. If it would match what her imagination had whipped up. The muscles of his thighs wouldn’t be as tanned as his arms but oh, they had to be just as hard and unyielding. How would they feel, pressed against hers? What about his hands, skimming across her calves, gliding higher…
“Does dinner include desert?” he asked, when her wayward gaze finally found his face again.
Heat flashed across her cheeks. He’d set some kind of trap and she’d walked right in. Again.
“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, then turned back around and fumbled with the sink fixtures. “How do you like it, um, your coffee?”
He waited until she looked at him then touched her cheek as he replied. “Hot, untouched and out in the open.” His mouth slanted, wicked and welcoming, as he fell back. “I’ll wait out on the porch.”
Was that warm glow in his gaze was a challenge? That sexy undertone a test?
Absolutely.
That suited her fine. He had a surprise coming because no way was he going to get the best of her again. She could top whatever he dished out.
—
Lang let Victoria feel the weight of his stare as she placed the tray of coffee and cookies on the table between them, then lowered herself into the chair.
He picked up a mug. “Hot and untouched,” he blew at the steam. “Just the way I like it.”
She regarded him with wary eyes, speaking lightly. “I aim to please.”
The sharp contrast between her guarded gaze and her flippant words tipped him off that he’d better proceed with caution. Now that he’d made his mind up about trying to get her to sell, well, he was ready to do whatever he had to make it happen. Not that she didn’t have good reason to be suspicious but what he had in mind was for her own good.
The last thing he needed was for her to get all riled up. He nearly shivered, remembering Lori Anne’s high-pitched shriek. No doubt this pretty piece of woman had a squeal that could make his teeth chatter. He’d better back off for a minute, get Victoria onto easier ground. “Do you have a pasture big enough for those horses you plan on buyin’?”
Her eyebrows shot up and she gave him her full attention. “It’s out behind the corral. Want me to show you?”
Mission accomplished—one distracted woman.
Lang nodded, set his coffee down, then followed her around the side of the house. As they walked along, she scanned the yard, probably making note of whatever jobs she wanted him do for those home-cooked meals and he tried to stay upwind. Her delicate scent had just enough citrus in it to make his mouth water. Not a good thing, since he kept coming back around to the detrimental notion of using her to quench his thirst.
A sweet thing like her could keep a man busy for hours. Days.
“I know going to the auction will slow your work on the barn,” she said as they moved along. “Since I really need someone with a good eye for horses…anyway, um…thanks.”
She wasn’t exactly gushing her thanks, he noted. Apparently, rich girl Victoria was not happy about putting trust in some down-on-his-luck cowpoke.
Her confidence in his horse sense was well placed but she had no way of knowing he and Cole spent the better part of their teenage years driving from one horse auction to the next. She just expected to get what she wanted, because that was the way her kind of woman was. “Better wait to thank me. I may not find what you need.”
“I have a feeling you will,” she said breezily before pausing by a pasture fence. “It starts there,” she stretched up on tiptoe, giving him another angle to admire her pin-up worthy body and then gestured, “and goes way back, five acres, I think.”
Then she swung the conversation way off the path he had planned by asking, “Where were you headed today?”
He steeled himself against her n
atural delight and the dusting of enthusiasm making her whole face glow. “South.” He cast her a dark look to make sure she understood the subject was closed. Judging by the easy, enticing swing of her body, she wasn’t getting the message.
“Anywhere in particular?”
Didn’t she ever give up? He was supposed to be directing the conversation—and getting what he wanted. Not detailing his personal history for her pleasure. “Just south.”
Time to turn the tables and hunt for ammunition he’d need to talk her into selling. He swept aside a strand of her hair, leaned in. “What about you, Victoria? Where do you see yourself in the future?”
“Right here at The Circle Cat,” she replied, a slight waver in her soft voice.
He moved in, near enough to feel the womanly heat of her body, close enough to see the cute freckles dotting her nose. “You sure about that? No cowboy on a white horse going to come and take you back to his ranch?”
All hesitation vanished from her face, cool confidence replaced it. “I’m going to stay right here, alone, making this place into a successful business.”
Maybe he’d been wrong about her. “By yourself,” he said, to be sure he understood her meaning.
She leaned back, fixed him with a resolute blue gaze and lifted her chin. “That’s right.”
No wedding bells rang in her head? Impossible. She was just in denial.
He jumped in with another one he’d been mulling over. “I bet with your dad’s money you could have this place fixed up in a hurry. What’s the holdup?”
Her chin rose even higher. “Like I said, I’m doing this alone.” She said the next statement with a self-assured smile. “That means I’m doing things my way and without help.”
My kind of woman.
Damn!
Victoria was not his kind of woman!
Lang nearly bit his tongue off grinding his teeth as he fought against that ridiculous notion. He must have some kind of radar that sought out women who were all wrong for him. “What if things don’t work out?”
“They will.”
Lang traced the tender curve of her jawline with his gaze then lifted his hand to follow that same trail with his fingertips. Her skin was smooth, warm and supple, yet her eyes held strength and certainty. She didn’t look like a woman who was likely to change her mind about sticking around. This woman had more than her share of fortitude.
He would’ve liked to respect her for it but she was in his way. And, he added to soothe his conscience, she was doing herself a great disservice.
But it wasn’t his conscience that needed the most soothing.
Keep your pants zipped and your hands to yourself, cowboy.
Lang dropped his arm.
He wouldn’t bother asking her how she could be so sure things would go her way. Undoubtedly things always had, so in her mind the possibility that they wouldn’t didn’t even exist. That meant she wasn’t anywhere near ready to sell. Not yet, anyway. What she needed was a jolt to push her into reality.
Lucky for them, he was already one step ahead of her. “Have you tried out that bonfire pit yet?”
Because his question came out of the blue, he wasn’t surprised by the curl of her eyebrows as she shook her head.
He angled back, putting some distance between them. “It looks great but don’t you think you better be sure it works before the guests get here?”
Her cheek twisted as she considered the possibility. “It could not work?”
So she wouldn’t spot the grin pulling on his mouth, he turned away, pretended to forget about the whole thing.
After a long pause, she tapped him on the arm. “You really think I should try it out?”
He feigned lack of interest with a noncommittal shrug. “Can’t hurt.”
“Want to come with me?” The question was quiet, the welcome softness in her eyes speaking volumes.
For three, long, heavy beats of his heart, he forgot he’d been baiting her into asking him that very question. Then—he remembered. “Guess so. You got matches?”
“Got some in the kitchen.” She called over her shoulder as she trotted toward the house. “I’ll meet you there.”
He’d be ready, willing and able.
Chapter Five
Within minutes, Victoria stood beside one of the bulky stones that rimmed the inner circle of the bonfire pit. The wide arcs of fat stumps and cut-up logs that bordered the pile would seat at least a dozen people.
With only the two of them there, the area looked empty. Instead of giving her room to breathe, the vast desert air created an unnerving intimacy.
Her mind drifted back to Lang. To practical questions about who he was and where he was headed, then to more intriguing ones, like how he kissed. Or made love. Compared to those looking-more-dull-by-the minute business types she’d gone out with in the past, she didn’t think he’d hold her at a polite distance the first time—
“Stuff some of that tumbleweed into this pocket and we’ll start it here,” Lang said, pointing to a wide opening among the busted boards he’d dumped earlier.
“Change your mind?” he challenged, when she didn’t jump to do his bidding.
“Of course not.”
Not about the fire either.
Satisfaction made her smile when he grabbed a couple handfuls of dry twigs and stuffed them in the hole himself. After he sliced his palm through the air, he turned to her. “Want me to light it?”
What she really wanted was to ask him why he’d done that thing with his hand. Was it some sort of test for the air? Or was he chasing away a mosquito? There wasn’t any way to ask without looking like an inexperienced ninny, so she dug the matchbook out of her pocket and tore one off.
After she struck it, she tossed it on top of the twigs. Within seconds the flames spread, hopping onto the wide boards. The dry branches spit tiny bits of ash and Victoria had to step back. When she did, she noticed Lang watching her, a strange expression loitering on his rugged face.
Speculation?
The heat from the flames pressed onto her so she stepped over the seating logs. When the orange and red spread and skipped higher, she had to back up again. Within minutes, huge pointed flames stabbed at the sky while boards popped and snapped.
The raw beauty of the fire burned away the frustrations of the day and took her breath away. Its all-consuming energy had a powerful life of its own. Time stalled and she couldn’t do anything except stare at the fascinating flames. Suddenly, all the flames blended into one huge wave of fire, forcing her to back up yet again. When she did, she collided with Lang.
He steadied her by cupping his warm palms over her shoulders. “Everything okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” She sagged into the internal flames caused by the warmth of his touch and the strength in his hands. “It’s fantastic. They’re going to love it.”
“They’re… You… You aren’t, um…” His mouth dropped open, his gaze bounced to her neckline.
“Too hot?” When his eyes darkened, that inner heat blazed hotter, fizzling all the way down each nerve ending. She tugged on her shirt with quick, jerky motions. “I guess I’ll have to move those stumps back or my guests will roast.”
In a flash, he frowned, dropped his hands. Without him to protect her from the thin, desert wind the night turned chilly, causing her to shiver. His all-consuming gaze took in every tiny motion and her nipples hardened under his attentive gaze. Tension gripped her shoulders, making her anxious and unsure.
“The… Moving the stumps…that would probably be a good idea,” he muttered as he stepped away, his gaze still on her breasts. “Even though not every fire will be this big.”
His throat jerked, his hands swung aimlessly by his waist. That constant control…it was fading from his dark eyes.
Sweet Lord, she had him flustered.
Quickly warming to the notion of making him uncomfortable, she wiggled experimentally, causing her breasts to bounce as she asked, “Why not?”
Unfortunately the movement had as much effect on her as it did him. Her breasts swelled, aching for his touch.
“This pile…is boards from…the barn…and…stuff from all the clean up you and Hank did. Right?” With stiff movements, he peeled his gaze away from her body as he gestured toward the barn and guest cabins. “Once you get this place in shape you won’t have as much to burn.”
Desire simmered through Victoria, how she wanted him to look at her again. See that she wanted him. The tight connection pulling them together was making her feel as alive and wild as the fire.
She was sure that if he’d only look at her again, she’d be able to look into his eyes and she’d know what to do next.
Damp heat gathered between her legs and her heart pounded, as she stared at him, waiting for her to turn her way.
Lang stole another sidelong glance at Victoria. The glow of the flames made her dazzling eyes even brighter. With her lips slightly parted and her chest rising sharply with each breath, she looked like Christmas morning and the temptation to touch her was stronger than ever.
The desire to know if her lips would taste sweet and yield to him, burned in his heart. Filled him with a painful need he knew might be eased by lifting the thin fabric of her shirt and losing himself in the full, roundness of her breasts. He’d tug down her bra and take her nipples into his mouth, licking each tight tip until she squirmed, her hips making promises by rocking back and forth.
Then he’d lay her across the warm sand and slide down her jeans. A few kisses and she be yanking down her panties, spreading her legs for him and—damn.
His pulsing erection throbbed against his jeans, making it impossible to think about anything but having her right there, out in the open, under the dusky desert sky.
But he had no business yearning after a woman like her. There would be plenty of uncomplicated sexpots in his future, if he wanted them. Women who knew what they were getting themselves into when they came on to a man who had no need for long-term ties.
Swallowing hard, he pulled himself back to reality.
Victoria had no business staying on at The Circle Cat. If only there was a way he could explain that to her, to persuade her into selling the place to him and Cole. It would be for her own good, save her so much heartache. She didn’t need to learn life’s lessons the hard way. She’d probably never have to learn them at all.
Cowboy For Hire Page 4