Redeemed by the Cowgirl (Mills & Boon Desire)

by Silver James

  Resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders instead. “That’s the only answer you’re going to get.”

  “Oh. Because we don’t have a relationship. Because I’m just business. Despite the fact I’ve been sharing your bed for almost a month. Fine. I get it. Shutting up now.” She lengthened her stride and pulled away from him.

  “Roxie? Roxanne! It’s not like that.” He caught up to her. “I just said that so they’d leave you alone.”

  She stopped abruptly and he almost plowed into her. She faced him, her eyes shadowed with misery. “They’re your family. Why would you want them to stay away from me? Are you ashamed of me or something?”

  Her question caught him flat-footed and she was half a block away before he moved. Tugging Harley into a rolling gallop, Cash ran to catch up.

  “Wait, Roxie.” He snagged her arm and gently stopped her. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh. So how is it? Because if it’s not those things, it’s so much worse.”

  “Wait...no.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Look, I just wanted to keep you away from them.”

  “So that’s not worse than them leaving me alone?”

  “You don’t know them.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. You never bothered to introduce me, so how could I? And you didn’t introduce me because I’m just some...person involved in your investigation who just happens to be warming your bed on a nightly basis. Yeah, I can see why you’d want me separate from your family life.”

  “I don’t have a family life, Roxanne.” The bitterness coating those words surprised him. So did the truth of them. “My brothers’ wives don’t like me. They have reason not to. Anyone I might care about would be fair game for their prying. I didn’t want to subject you to that.”

  “You keep saying they have reason to dislike you. Tell me what you did.”

  “It doesn’t concern you, Roxanne. Just...leave it be. Okay?”

  “No, not okay, but whatever.” She walked off again and he followed with Harley. Once at the office, they went their separate ways.

  She hid out in the spare office and he didn’t see her again until the end of the business day. Only he needed to remain at the office for a conference call with a company in Sydney. He tagged Alan to drive Roxie and Harley home and to stay with her until he arrived. He went to the office where he stashed her when he needed privacy and explained. She gathered up her things and leashed Harley without a word.

  Cash didn’t get home until almost midnight. Alan was on his feet and gave his report immediately as soon as Cash entered the house.

  “We had takeout for dinner, which we picked up after the dog’s evening walk. She went to bed shortly thereafter and hasn’t stirred since.”

  “Thanks, Alan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Locking the door and setting the alarm after the man’s departure, Cash didn’t put off facing Roxie. He quietly opened the door to his bedroom—and found an empty bed.

  “What the—” He jerked off his tie and suit coat, dropping them on the armchair on his side of the bed. Harley met him in the hallway with an aggrieved woof. Cash put the dog out onto the patio and then stalked to the guest room. Roxie didn’t belong in the guest room. He should have found her in his bed, where she’d been for—

  Cash cut those thoughts off. Given what he’d said that afternoon, her retreat to the guest room shouldn’t surprise him, nor should it sting, but it did. He crept into the room and stretched out beside her on the bed. Kissing the back of her neck, he whispered, “Red?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Are you still upset?”

  “What do you think?”

  He curled his arm over her waist and snugged her back against him. “Would it help if I say I’m sorry?”

  Roxie rolled to face him and he noticed the circles beneath her eyes. She looked tired. And troubled.

  “Will you mean it?”

  “I am sorry you got dragged into my family drama, Roxie.” He realized he felt as tired—and as troubled—as she looked.

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  He considered opening up to her, but twenty years under his father’s direct tutelage stopped him. “It’s just family, Rox.”

  “And I’m not family. I get it.”

  She attempted to roll away but he stopped her by cupping her cheek in his hand. “No, Red, you don’t. My family is a hot mess. You don’t have anything to do with them, with...things. I can get away from all that when I’m with you.”

  A tiny smile hovered around the corner of her mouth. “Well, that’s a start on the groveling.”

  “Oh,” he teased, his voice growing rougher. “You want groveling.” He kissed her and cupped her breast. “My bed is bigger,” he hinted.

  * * *

  Roxie was buried under the covers, snug and warm and floating on the last wisps of a dream—a dream of Cash and her living in a beautiful house with little Harleys weaving between their feet. She tripped—klutz that she was—and Cash caught her, laughing as he kissed her.

  She’d decided to forgive Cash last night. Yes, he’d hurt her feelings, but the look on his face when he admitted he had problems with his family had almost broken her heart. They were two of a kind in that regard. Her family was no prize, but a little thought niggled at the back of her brain. Cash admitted his sisters-in-law had reason to feel as they did. It was just as obvious that he accepted their dislike and the estrangement it must cause with his brothers as if he expected to be ostracized. That hurt, too.

  While she often found him emotionally frustrating, standoffish and cold upon occasion, when he took her into his arms and kissed her? When he made love to her? Her world narrowed and focused, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she might just belong somewhere—belong to someone.

  Snuggling back under the covers, she stretched, deliciously stiff and beard-burned in sensitive places. Cash had shown her in so many ways how good he was at groveling and, boy, did her body enjoy it. She was about to drop back into sleep when someone started pounding on the door.

  Roxie blinked, now fully awake, and sat up. Whoever it was pounded and rang the doorbell like it was a noisemaker on New Year’s Eve. Tossing off the covers, she shivered in the cool air and looked around for something to put on. Just because Cash locked himself out when he and Harley went for a run was no excuse to answer the door naked.

  A slow smile curled her lips. Maybe that was a good idea after all. If she answered the door naked, maybe Cash would take her back to bed and they’d be a little late to work. Okay, he’d be late to work. She’d be late to twiddling her thumbs. With that thought souring her desire, she snagged the shirt Cash had been wearing the night before. He’d dropped it on the chair rather than tossing it in his hamper. Stark white with French cuffs and an impossibly high thread count, she slipped her arms through the shirt’s sleeves.

  “All right already! I’m coming. Keep your shorts on.” She rolled up the sleeves but didn’t bother to button the shirt. She turned off the alarm code as Cash had shown her—a guest code he’d delete after she was gone, and wasn’t that a depressing thought. When the panel beeped at her, she unlocked and opened the door.

  “What? You forgot—” Words dried in her mouth and she scrambled to button up the shirt in the face of Cyrus Barron’s disapproval.

  The man barged in and pushed past her. She got the door shut but didn’t lock it or put the alarm back on as she jogged after him. “Uh...excuse me? Cash isn’t here right now—”

  “I can see that.”

  “Well, I’m not sure when he’ll—”

  Mr. Barron looked her up and down, and his disapproval tipped over into disdain before morphing into outright derision. “I’m surprised my son left one of his bimbos here alone. I thought I taught him better than that. I’ll add that to the list of things we need to discuss.”

  Cash’s father stalked toward the kitchen as if he owned the place and
once again, Roxie scrambled after him. “Um...” She couldn’t say any of the things she was thinking, like “Go away!”

  With absolute confidence, he grabbed a mug from the cabinet above the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He turned to face her, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, his mouth pressed into an arrogant sneer. “Cash always did go for the brainless ones.”

  Brainless? She had a master’s in museum studies and was seriously considering going back to school for her PhD. She’d graduated summa cum laude with a 4.0 grade average—for every degree she’d earned. And this dried-up old fart was calling her brainless? She bit back what she wanted to say and muzzled her temper. “We’ve never been introduced, Mr. Barron, and you have no idea who or what I am, and since we’ve said no more than a few words to each other, I will forgive your natural propensity for antipathy.” Then added under her breath, “This time.”

  The man stared at her like she was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Whatever. She’d managed to haphazardly button Cash’s shirt so none of her naked bits were showing. She made a mental note to put a robe in Cash’s room and start wearing underwear to bed.

  Inhaling, she proceeded. “And since you don’t know anything about me, I will explain so you understand.” She arched a brow. She’d been working on her haughty expression for dealing with her minions—the two interns and three assistants who worked under her supervision in RCM’s archives. The old man didn’t look impressed so it probably needed more work. Still, she persisted. “My name is Roxanne Rowland and I am the corporate archivist for—”

  The front door slammed open and Cash’s yelling cut her off. “Dammit, Roxie, what have I told you about leaving the door unlock—” He turned the corner, saw his father, and stopped moving and speaking.

  Harley, on the other hand, barreled across the living room, hit the tiles in the kitchen and slid sideways as he tried to turn the corner of the kitchen island. With scrabbling claws, the dog kept his feet and his momentum, nailing Mr. Barron with his nose, just below the belt. Roxie never had a chance to stop the collision—not that she was too inclined to try, given the circumstances.

  * * *

  Cash had to shift gears fast. The last person he expected to see standing in his kitchen was his father. The next to last was Roxie, wearing his shirt and nothing else, chewing out his old man. He’d thought the voices he heard from outside were from the TV. And then Harley pulled an end run that all but took his father to the floor. His temples began to throb.

  “Ah, Roxanne? Clothes, maybe?”

  She glanced down, seemed to realize her state of attire and nodded. “Good idea. And Cash, just so you know...there won’t be enough coffee in the world today.” She offered his father a scowl before disappearing down the hall to the guest room, calling for Harley to follow.

  “What is she doing here, Cashion?”

  “Staying in the guest room, Dad.”

  “Wearing your shirt?”

  Cash shrugged. “My sex life has been off the table for discussion since I turned eighteen. Why are you here?”

  “I want to know about that phone call you made to Sydney. We discussed this a month ago. I don’t want us doing business with those people.”

  “We aren’t, Dad. Barron Security is.”

  “Splitting hairs.”

  “Am I the CEO of Barron Security?”

  “For now.”

  “Is that a threat?” Something inside Cash tore a little. He’d sat back and watched his father make the same threat to each one of his brothers. They’d all stood up to him, knowing that Chance had them covered under the family trust. Except Cash knew he wasn’t protected. There’d been reasons—viable ones—to leave Barron Security outside the trust’s umbrella. BSS had clients from around the world and beyond the scope of the Barron umbrella of companies. The company needed autonomy that being in the trust wouldn’t provide.

  And now he was sweating bullets because the one thing he could do for his family was shield them through the auspices of his company. If that was taken away? Cash had to face the possibility.

  “If it needs to be.”

  That little rip ruptured, becoming a chasm. He clamped down on his emotions and faced his father. “We’ll discuss this at the office. I need to shower and dress.”

  Cyrus emptied his untouched coffee into the sink and set the mug down with a clink. “You bet we will. And we will be discussing that woman. Get her out of your house, Cashion. Dump her and get your mind back on business.” He stopped before getting to the front door. “I’m well aware you’ve had her stashed in your office, along with that ridiculous dog, and you’ve taken her to the ranch. That ends now. I know who she is. The Barrons don’t associate with trash, boy. You’d better remember that.”

  Fourteen

  Cash should have gone to Roxie, soothed her by telling her everything would be all right, explained that his father often spoke without thinking. Except all of it would be a lie. Nothing was right and his father always said exactly what was on his mind. He heard water running from the bath off the guest room. So much for sharing their morning shower, as they normally did. Harley brushed against his leg and he glanced down. Even the dog looked accusatory.

  “What?” he growled. “Dad’s right. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

  And he was. Very involved. Cash didn’t do relationships and, before Roxanne, the thought of a woman sharing his space would have left him laughing. Not that Roxie didn’t make him laugh—but in a good way that made him feel warm inside.

  Later, when it was time to leave for Barron Tower, Harley refused to get off the couch. No amount of entreaty from Roxie or Cash’s commands moved the dog. Frustrated, Cash stormed out of the condo and sat in the Rover until Roxie appeared a few minutes later. As the weather had a tendency to do in early March, winter had come back with a fierce blast of cold. He had the heater cranked up and the seat warmer on high.

  Roxie slid into the car, buckled up and never once looked at him. He lasted until they pulled into the parking garage. Leaving the car running for warmth, he twisted to look at her. “You shouldn’t have opened the door.”

  She finally flipped out. “I shouldn’t... You... He... I thought... You... What he said...” Then she slugged him. In the shoulder. Harder than he would have given her credit for. “I thought you’d forgotten your keys and it was cold out and you were only wearing those ridiculously sexy running clothes. You are the world’s biggest jackass. No. Wait. I apologize to mules everywhere. And I’m wrong. Your father is the biggest. You? You’re just...just...” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I’m trash? Is that what you believe? Is that really how you feel?”

  Cash grabbed her hands, holding them gently despite her efforts to pull away. “Shh, Red. That’s not how I feel. You aren’t any of the things my father implied.”

  She inhaled deeply and quit fighting his grip. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  That was a fair question. How did he explain? Could he explain? How did he summarize twenty-five years of the messy, broken relationship between father and son? “It’s...complicated.”

  “Complicated.” Roxie leaned away from him. “Easy excuse, Cash. You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” She glanced at the clock in the Rover’s dash. “You’re late for work.”

  They exited the vehicle, rode the elevator in silence and he dropped her at the door to the empty office without a word. Yesterday had been rough, though last night’s sweet make-up sex had mitigated the situation with his sisters-in-law. Today? Today just made him want to run away. Like to the top of Mount Everest. Instead he was met by a stack of urgent messages.

  At 6:00 p.m., Cash emerged from his office for what seemed like the first time all day. Lunch had been delivered to his desk by the ever-present and efficient intern Nick and it felt like his phone was permanently attached to his ear. The niggling headache his morning had started with was now a full-blown head-pounder. Roxie was sitting on the couch across from C
heri’s desk, now occupied by Nick, her booted feet propped on the hand-carved wooden coffee table. A part of his tired brain noted that she had a magazine under her feet, probably to keep from marring the polished surface.

  “Ready to go home?”

  She pulled her earbuds out and studied him. “I’ve been ready to go home for a month now.”

  Cash realized his slip immediately but something twinged inside. He’d begun to think...no. He wouldn’t go there. He lived in his condo, but it wasn’t home, except with Roxie there... No. He couldn’t think of that. He studied her the way he would a suspect. Her nonchalance was forced, as was the bored look. He noticed the white-knuckled grip on her phone and the nervous twitch of the toes of one boot.

  “You can head out, Nick,” he ordered. Once they were alone, Cash sat down beside her, stretched his legs out and planted his boots next to hers. She frowned and he wondered what caused it—him sitting there or his boots on the bare wood. Roxie had funny ideas about furniture and art. He supposed it was her training as a museum curator.

  She folded her arms across her chest but refused to look at him. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I was too busy to see you today.”

  Roxie jerked a little and cut her eyes in his direction. He’d taken her by surprise. Good. “And I’m sorry my father dragged you into our family drama.”

  She didn’t respond for almost a minute. “I have no room to talk when it comes to family drama. Mine sort of dragged you into theirs.”

  He nudged her shoulder with his own in a show of fond solidarity. “How ’bout we head ho—to my place. We’ll stop, grab some steaks. I’ll grill.”

  “It’s too cold to grill, though Harley would growl at me for saying so. He’s a steakaholic.”

  Cash chuckled. “I’m a man. It’s never too cold to grill. C’mon, Red.”

  He surged to his feet and tugged her up after him. Slinging his arm around her shoulders, he kept her close all the way to his car. The crisis seemed to have passed for the moment.

  * * *

  Harley, full of prime beef, was sprawled on the couch imitating a dead cockroach, except for the snores that too closely resembled a set of untuned motorcycle pipes. Cash waited for Roxie to step into his bedroom before shutting off the lights in the main part of the condo. He followed her a moment later.