The Rancher's Secret Love (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 2)

by Paula Altenburg

  “I can’t. It’s Jake’s evening off. Zack and I are manning the ranch and the kids.” His voice lowered, growing husky. “I really want my hat back, though. What’s your schedule like for next Tuesday?”

  Say you’re busy.

  She stared up at the night sky brim full of stars shining through glass. She’d started this. She wasn’t changing the rules on him, or letting him change them on her. A year from now, she didn’t know where she might be. If the dance studio didn’t take off by then, she’d need to re-evaluate her situation. If he went back to his fiancée and his former life once his time in Montana was over, then that was on him.

  How she dealt with the gossip would be up to her.

  She’d held her head high once before and survived.

  “Wide open,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Luke brushed the tips of his fingers along the length of Mara’s spine, admiring the feel of her skin.

  She lay on her stomach, her face toward him, her arms folded under her cheek. Moonlight turned her into a naked Mayan goddess. Her eyes were closed, although she wasn’t asleep. Long lashes fluttered, making him wonder what her thoughts were.

  He could lie here and watch her for hours, and never grow tired.

  This was the fourth time in the three weeks since they’d started sleeping together that he’d spent at least part of the night. He’d gotten into the habit of going home before dawn, mostly because they had a ten-year-old in the house who was wise for his age, and the brothers worried about setting the right kind of example for him.

  “You’re staring,” Mara said, without opening her eyes.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” She flipped onto her back and stretched her arms over her head, opening her eyes to gaze up at him. His fingers trailed over the firm mound of one breast and she caught her breath. The night was warm. They’d kicked the sheets to the foot of the bed and she tucked her toes underneath them. “What are you thinking about?”

  He said the first thing that popped into his head. “Why does everyone in Grand seem to believe you don’t date?”

  Her eyebrows went up. “What makes you think everyone’s right?”

  “They don’t have their facts straight most of the time,” Luke conceded. He stroked her flat belly, watching the way her muscles tightened beneath his touch. “Although you’ve got to admit, they usually aren’t that far off base. We’ve only gone out in public once, yet we’re sleeping together.”

  She was watching him closely. “What conclusions are you drawing from that?”

  “I’m not sure.” He’d arrive. He’d kiss her. And the next thing he’d know, they were in bed. He wasn’t worried that they weren’t exclusive. She’d never given him any reason to doubt that they were. Besides, he’d have heard the rumors during his coffee dates with the dance mothers if other men had been hanging around, expressing an interest. But he couldn’t seem to get her to talk anymore and it was driving him nuts. “There’s a distinct possibility I’m fitting into a pattern,” he said.

  She arched a brow. “Does it matter if you are?”

  It really did. The sex was great. Better than great. When he kissed her he couldn’t think, and in all honesty, his brain had needed the break.

  But his brain couldn’t be entirely shut off forever. It said he’d had just as great a time with her at Reality Bytes, and wanted more of that from her, too. It also warned him that, if the pattern proved true, she eventually lost interest in men. She was—or had been—all about dance.

  “We’d agreed we aren’t going to think about the future,” she reminded him, as if reading his thoughts. She shifted to face him, resting one slender hand on his hip.

  “We did. So let’s talk about the past, instead.”

  He felt a subtle tensing in her fingers. A slight shift in her mood. She was no longer so languid.

  “You first,” she said. “Tell me about your fiancée. When you met, what attracted you to her?”

  She’d thrown down a challenge. She didn’t expect him to do it.

  And he didn’t want to. Denise deserved her privacy. He didn’t want to think about her, either. What he had with Mara was different, and what he felt for her was, too. But he couldn’t help thinking he might have a lot riding on this, so he picked his words with care.

  “She was so self-confident,” he said. “She challenged a paper I wrote on natural language processing and cloud communication.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “Why should you? You don’t work in the field. I didn’t know what a swish split was, either, until I met you.”

  Her lips curved. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

  “Of course. If it’s important to you, then I want to know about it.”

  She digested that. “Fair warning. I am never going to read your paper on cloud processing or whatever.”

  “I don’t expect you to. You didn’t need to build the platform for virtual reality games in order to enjoy playing them, did you? I’m never going to be a dancer either, but I can still appreciate the performance.”

  “You really are smart,” she said.

  “Does that mean you’ll stop calling me Dr. Pretty?”

  “No.” She touched his face, then traced the seam of his lips with one fingertip. “You’re still so very beautiful, too.”

  “I’m starting to think you only want me for my body.” He wished he could take those words back when she didn’t deny them. She didn’t believe they had anything in common other than sex. He took her hand and rolled off the bed, dragging her with him. “Come on, then. If that’s the case, then we might as well put it to good use.”

  He led her hand in hand through the apartment, both of them naked, and didn’t stop when they reached the door, but instead, pulled it open.

  “Where are we going?” Mara asked, allowing him to draw her onto the catwalk.

  “You’ll see.”

  He held her hand on the stairs. An emergency light over the door in the studio cast a faint red glow that bounced off the mirrored walls and into the far corners of the room. He fumbled with the sound system, selecting the track he wanted. The strains of a Lou Bega mambo drifted into the room.

  “No, Luke,” she said, trying to free her hand from his when she figured out his intentions.

  Rather than let her go, he tugged her toward him. “Yes, Mara.”

  She pressed her forehead against his chest. “I can’t dance a mambo.”

  She wanted to, though. He’d seen the longing in her expression as the music began. And there were plenty of things his body was good for other than sex.

  “Neither can I. But I bet we can do it together if you walk me through it.” He turned her around so her back was to his front, her bare ass nestled against his thighs, her hair caught between her shoulders and his chest. He was reminded of the night at Reality Bytes, and how much he’d enjoyed this particular position. She’d trusted him then. He saw no reason why she shouldn’t now. He brushed her hair aside and nuzzled the length of her throat with his lips. “The trick is to let me carry your weight,” he murmured against her skin.

  “I take back what I said about you being smart.”

  But already, she’d begun to move to the beat of the music. Luke put his hands on her hips, supporting her body, allowing her movements to guide his. It took her a few steps to get used to leaning against him, the two of them dancing as one. His part was easy. All he had to do was follow her lead, keeping one thigh in close contact with her weaker side so she couldn’t stumble.

  They danced for two songs before Mara twisted to face him, flinging her arms around his neck. He held her by the waist and she tipped her head back, closing her eyes. When she opened them to gaze up at him, even in the dim studio lighting he could recognize the same soft look of joy she’d worn in the music video. His heart clenched tight with longing. He wanted her so badly. Much more of her than she’d been willing to give him so far.

>   He wanted her wearing that look for him.

  “Thank you,” she said. “This was wonderful.”

  He lifted her, bearing her weight on his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips and took his face in her hands, bending her head to kiss him. She slid her tongue into his mouth. He carried her to the barre, positioned himself between her parted thighs, and eased his erection inside her.

  He wasn’t wearing a condom. He began to withdraw, but Mara clamped her knees around his hips.

  “I use birth control and I had a physical six weeks ago,” she assured him, panting the words around soft little moans. Already, tiny muscles had begun to tighten around him. She was close.

  So was he.

  “I’ve only had one other partner in more than five years,” he thought she said. He couldn’t be sure. Pinpoints of light prickled the backs of his eyes. He braced his feet a little farther apart and thrust again and again, faster and deeper, half afraid he might hurt her, he was so eager, but she didn’t protest.

  She arched her back, her fingers biting into his shoulders, greeting each of his strokes with small cries of encouragement. She’d anchored her heels against the backs of his knees.

  “Look at me,” he said. He wanted to watch her face—to see her expression—to find out what he did to her, and if it was even close to what she did to him.

  She opened brilliant, heavy-lidded blue eyes. It was the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced. Her whole body stiffened, clenched muscles quivering around him, and he groaned with sheer bliss as they came at the same time to the beat of mambo music.

  “This was wonderful, too,” she whispered against his throat. He hadn’t yet withdrawn, reluctant to end the intimacy between them. She made him feel whole—as if his world, which had been torn apart, had pulled itself back together. The pieces might be different, but nonetheless, it was complete.

  He didn’t dare say so to her.

  They managed to make it back to her bed, where he draped a possessive arm around her and held her against him. As good as it had been, something was still missing.

  He’d seen desire in her eyes. He’d seen pleasure.

  He was determined he’d see joy, too.

  *

  Satisfaction coursed through her veins. She’d been right to assume he was a natural dancer. He was a natural lover, too.

  She’d never danced completely naked before, let alone with a partner. It wasn’t an activity she would ever have thought of on her own. Yet Luke had been so unselfconscious about combining the two activities. There was nothing about the human body that he wasn’t comfortable with. He didn’t mind her scarred leg either, other than concern as to whether or not it caused her discomfort.

  She didn’t care about scars or a little physical discomfort. For a whole year, being unable to dance the more basic steps, and knowing she’d never perform in public again, had been less important to her than where her next paycheck would come from.

  How had he known what she wanted—what she’d needed—when she hadn’t known it, herself?

  Tonight, despite her intentions, they’d broken the rules. They’d gone beyond sex. Friendship too, for that matter. And she dared to hope that maybe he hadn’t been as invested in his fiancée as she’d assumed. Maybe the fiancée had been a mistake and it had taken a tragedy for him to realize it. He’d broken up with her before Mara had entered the picture.

  The unsteady rhythm of his chest rising and falling against her back and shoulders said he was awake. It was very late though, and soon, he’d be leaving. He’d only ever spent the one night.

  She didn’t want him to go.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  The arm around her tightened. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d love to. It’s hard to crawl out of a warm bed.” She heard regret and the “but” that was coming. “But Finn loses his mind if he wakes up and we aren’t there. And Mac isn’t stupid. He knows what it means when his uncles don’t come home until the next morning. We need to set a good example for him in the way we treat women. I don’t want him to hit sixteen or seventeen and think casual sex is okay.”

  The statement about casual sex stung—even though it was what they were engaged in. She’d been the one to insist.

  “At what age does it become okay?” she asked.

  Suddenly, she was on her back underneath him and he was propped on his elbows, his face above hers. Dark brows pinched together. Moonlight made his frown more intense. “There’s nothing casual about this.”

  She closed her eyes, the relief overwhelming. She should tell him he was wrong. That this was why she’d only dated men in Grand once or twice—they became too possessive, and she’d learned her lesson about that. She’d been nothing more than a possession to Little Zee, and never again.

  But Luke wasn’t Little Zee. He wasn’t quite like any of the men in Grand she’d dated either, although the qualities that had attracted her to them were there. He was solid and honest.

  No matter how much she wanted to, she found it very hard to believe that he could have gotten over his fiancée so quickly.

  “Did you love her?” she asked.

  Despite the turn in the conversation, he knew who she meant. “I thought I did. But you learn a lot about people when push comes to shove. Did you love the pop star?” he asked in return.

  Someone had filled him in on the story. Either that or he’d looked it up when he’d done his research on dance. It was a piece of her life that she couldn’t keep private, but she’d managed to keep how she’d felt to herself.

  She’d had a year and a half to recover, not a month, however, so he had no right to compare their situations.

  “No,” she said. “I loved dance and he loved music, and when we worked on the video together, that spilled over into a physical relationship. We both knew it wouldn’t last.” She’d chosen to enjoy it while it did, so that was on her. She’d never expected to have him leave her so abruptly, and with such a complete indifference for her well-being, however. The selfish bastard. “This won’t last, either.”

  “How do you know it won’t?” Luke settled more comfortably, bearing his weight with his elbows. The crisp hairs on his legs chafed the smooth skin of her thighs. “We agreed we weren’t going to think too far ahead, so unless you have a crystal ball, you don’t know where this will end up. One thing it’s not, however, is casual. We both know that, whether or not you’re willing to admit it.” He kissed her throat. It seared like a brand. “But a ten-year-old doesn’t have the same understanding of the situation. No one else does. This is between you and me.”

  She loved that he thought about what was best for Mac first. He was good with Finn, too. And to dance with her the way he had…

  She wanted so much to trust him. To believe he knew his own heart.

  “You’re right. It’s not casual,” she said. Her chest palpitated like crazy. She hadn’t expected for them to become this involved. “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on between us either, though. So why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “I think we were both lost, and we’ve found each other in a place where we were both meant to be.”

  “Interesting theory, Dr. McGregor. I had no idea you minored in astrology.”

  Luke ran his finger along her lower lip. “Scoff if you will. You’ve bought top-of-the-line appliances and you redid the kitchen. Your furniture is new. You installed a sound system and painted the walls. And yet, according to the ladies I have coffee with every Saturday morning, you aren’t yet turning a profit. Why spend so much money turning this warehouse into a home unless this is where you belong?”

  The psychoanalysis made her uncomfortable. She really had spent too much money. “Don’t read too much into it. When I was growing up, the first thing my mother did when we’d arrive in a new city was to turn whatever we were renting into a home for us. She calls it a nesting instinct. As a dancer, I’ve never been in one place for longer than a few months. It was fun to make a home
for myself. I had some savings, so I thought it was time to give it a try.”

  She’d needed a hideout. A haven. A place where she could recover without the world staring, waiting for her to crack. Grand was hardly private, but no one here had ever shown her anything but kindness. The O’Sullivans sprang to mind.

  “What does your mother think of your efforts? Does she like Montana?”

  “She hasn’t seen it,” Mara said.

  Luke ceased his one-fingered exploration of the curves of her face. He blinked. His expression was priceless. “Your home? Or Montana? She didn’t come here to be with you after your accident?”

  Mara loved her mother, but while she was more reserved than her Mexican in-laws, she possessed a great deal of Dutch forthrightness and there’d been too strong a probability of her publicly expressing her opinion of Little Zee. Mara wouldn’t give him the free publicity. She wouldn’t give the paparazzi any more access to her life, either.

  “I told her the press made a big deal about nothing,” Mara said. “She volunteers at an orphanage in Brazil and I thought the children would benefit more from her attention. You can understand that.”

  “I get it. But my mother would have killed me if I’d had career-ending surgery and pretended it was nothing.”

  Career-ending.

  A part of her brain flinched. Hearing it spoken out loud made it sound so… final. So real. She was only twenty-six. She had so many years ahead of her. She longed to argue that there’d been a mistake, but she shook off the urge. Her argument was weak and there was no need to prove it.

  “Which is why mine will never know,” she said. The hint of envy when Luke mentioned his mother made her realize how lucky she was to have hers. Also, that the topic of conversation needed to change. “Tell me why you were lost. I got the impression you love to teach.”

  “I do. I don’t necessarily love to teach in Seattle.”

  That came as a surprise. They were both learning new things about each other. “You’d give up your position to come home to Montana? Could you find something similar here?”