Kidnapped By The Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 2)

by Pam Crooks

  He stood over her, silhouetted in the moonlight. A perfect vision of lean masculinity. Of contoured muscle. And unabashed desire.

  Callie Mae wanted him—in ways that went beyond the pleasures a man and woman would share together. Ways too complicated to comprehend at the moment, but something her instincts unavoidably insisted.

  She would figure it all out later.

  Much later.

  But for now, she watched him bend toward her and fling aside the quilts. His hands bold and sure, he slid his palms up her legs, from her ankles to her knees, his work-roughened skin deliciously warm and sensual against hers. When he grasped the hem of her nightgown along the way up, she lifted her hips, then her arms, and in moments, the filmy garment drifted downward and landed atop his boots.

  TJ drank in the sight of her.

  “You’re beautiful, Callie Mae,” he whispered. “As beautiful as I knew you’d be.”

  She trembled. He spoke with such reverence… an unquestioned yearning. Wordlessly, without shyness, she reached for him, and then he was there, in her arms, rolling with her on the bed, bringing her on top of him, murmuring her name, again and again.

  Their mouths met, at last, in an uncontrolled burst of hunger. Wet and frenzied, their tongues swirled and curled, igniting the fires of passion, making them burn higher, hotter, turning their breathing ragged and rough.

  “I can’t get enough of you, Callie Mae.”

  TJ’s voice rasped with the admission, and his hands lowered to her hips. He lifted her, and she grasped his shoulders, holding herself above him while he took one nipple into his mouth and suckled the sensitive nub with his tongue. She gasped at this new sensation. Her muscles turned to jelly. She feared she’d collapse into a boneless heap if he wasn’t there to keep her from it.

  “O-oh, TJ,” she moaned.

  He did the same with the other side; her head fell forward, her hair a silken veil around them, her body awash in glorious sensation that built inside her, deep within her feminine core, higher and higher.

  His velvet blade throbbed against the inside of her thigh. She needed more from him, an ending to this sweet torture, and she fitted herself over him.

  “Callie. God, Callie.” TJ groaned and thrust himself inside her, a deliciously slick sheathing that had her gasping yet again in newfound revelry.

  He filled her, connected with her in the perfect way a man was meant to fill a woman. Yet she ached for still more, and her hips began to rock. She found the rhythm, seeking the completion that begged to be reached. TJ clasped her hips, keeping her tight against him, and he rocked with her. Faster, harder. Frenzied. Over and over until they fell into that glorious abyss together and shattered into a million pieces.

  Blissfully satisfied.

  “Why do you call your mother ‘Maggie’?” Callie Mae asked.

  She laid with her legs entwined with TJ’s, her head on his broad shoulder. Far from sleepy, she toyed with the dark crisp hairs sprinkled across his chest, lazily twirling them around her fingertip.

  He stroked her arm, long and unhurried caresses that showed he’d yet to sate his need to touch her.

  “Because that’s what everybody else called her, I suppose,” he said.

  “She never wanted you to say ‘mama’ or ‘mother’?”

  “Not that I recall. For as long as I can remember, she’s always been just ‘Maggie.’”

  “Hmm.” Callie Mae found it strange, but she refrained from saying so.

  “She never saw herself as a good mother, even when I was very young.” His voice grew quietly pensive. “She moved around a lot, depending on which man she was living with at the time. My grandmother had to take me in.”

  “What about your father?”

  “What father?” Callie Mae felt his mouth turn into a sarcastic quirk against her temple. “I don’t think she ever knew for sure who he was.”

  “Oh.” She sighed, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, TJ.”

  “Don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore.” His arm tightened in a quick, reassuring squeeze. “When my grandmother died, Maggie had to learn how to raise me. There was no one else. But her drinking made it impossible most days. I learned how to take care of her instead.”

  She stroked his chest. “You grew up fast then, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I was barely fifteen when I came to the C Bar C.”

  She remembered he’d been devoted to the ranch even then, starting as a wrangler and growing into one of the best cowboys the C Bar C ever had.

  “But for all her faults, Callie Mae, she would never have knowingly hurt anyone. Including Danny.”

  Callie Mae tilted her head back and kissed him. “I believe you.”

  “And not once, I swear, has she had a drink since then. I would’ve known if she had.”

  She kissed him again. “I believe you on that, too.”

  “What she went through, what she’d done, cured her from ever getting drunk again.”

  “TJ.” Callie Mae laid her fingers gently against his mouth. “You don’t have to defend her to me anymore. Are you worried I hate her?”

  His expression turned pained, and he pressed his lips to her palm. “Yes.”

  “I don’t. Now that I know her side of it, well—”

  Callie Mae halted. In her weakness and grief, she’d found it easier to seek refuge in hate, but now, could she forgive?

  “I guess I understand,” she continued slowly. “I intend to tell her so, when I see her next.”

  A moment passed. She sensed he struggled with an emotion he was reluctant to let her see.

  “I love you, Callie Mae,” he said roughly, but he eased her onto her back with gentleness. “And because I love you—” he spread her thighs with his knees “—I’m going to show you—” his head lowered “—just how much.”

  His tongue found her innermost petals of femininity, stroked and worshipped and swept her away on tidal waves of sensation, making her realize, in the tiniest corner of her mind, that not once since TJ had crawled into her bed had she thought of Kullen.

  And now, it was too late.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A firm knocking sound tugged TJ out of pure contentment and threw him into the startling reality of morning. The knock warned him the sun beamed in through the open windows, it was late and that Callie Mae lay in his arms with her sweet fanny snuggled warmly against his naked groin.

  Another knock sounded. “Callie Mae? Are you up yet?”

  His brain worked to identify the muffled voice on the other side of the door. Female…

  Callie Mae started awake.

  “Callie!” The voice called again.

  Her head lifted off the pillow. Her gaze shot across the room in absolute mortification.

  “Oh, no!” she whispered hoarsely. “My mother!”

  Surprised, he rose up on an elbow and remembered to keep his voice low. “She’s back already?”

  “Can I come in?” Carina called.

  “No!” Callie Mae sat up and clutched the sheet against her breasts with one hand, raked her rich cinnamon hair back from her face with the other. “I—I’m getting dressed, Mother. What are you doing home so soon?”

  “Meet us downstairs for breakfast, and I’ll explain. Can you hurry?”

  “All right.” Callie sat frozen, her eyes on the door.

  Footsteps headed down the stairs and faded away.

  Callie Mae blew out a breath, fell back against the pillow and turned her panicked blue gaze on him. “She’ll kill me if she finds out you’re here.”

  He regarded her. “You’re not going to tell her?”

  She didn’t move. “I don’t think so.”

  He caressed her cheek. “Regrets, darlin’?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” Her delectable lips turned downward.

  “Want me to leave?” He jerked his chin toward the window he’d climbed through earlier. “Like a schoolboy caught with his pants down?”

  He wa
vered between anger that she didn’t see their time together like he did—and knowing the predicament he’d put her in.

  “TJ, try to understand.” She trailed her fingers down his arm, her expression beseeching. “It’s complicated between us.”

  “Only if you let it be.” Tersely, he flung back the covers and strode toward her side of the bed, to his clothes still in a heap on the floor. He grabbed his Levi’s.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, laying there clutching the sheet and looking so damned beautiful with her hair tousled, her lips full and her skin rosy. Like she’d spent half the night making love.

  Which she had.

  “Go downstairs,” he said. “The normal way.”

  “TJ.” She sat up again and drew her knees to her chest.

  “I figure there’s a few things your parents need to know.” Finished buttoning his pants, he reached for his shirt next. “My bedding you being only one of them.”

  “TJ, listen.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I’ll pave the way. By the time you come down, they’ll already know I spent the night with you.” He tossed her a cold smile.

  “I don’t expect you to fight my battles for me.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” He stuffed his shirt hem into his waistband.

  “They’ll think I betrayed Kullen and—”

  “He betrayed you first, Callie Mae. Months ago.”

  “Even so, my behavior with you was unacceptable under the circumstances.”

  “We’re adults.” Pulling on one boot, he reached for the second. “We both knew what we were doing. And I don’t recall you pushing me away.”

  “I didn’t. I know I didn’t.” She looked so miserable, his heart squeezed. “I wish everything would stay like it was last night forever.”

  His annoyance vanished at her pouty admission, and he bent toward her with a throaty groan, cupped the back of her head and helped himself to the sweetness of her lips. Her arms circled his neck, and the sheet dropped to her lap. TJ filled his palm with the weight of one breast and savored a leisurely fondle.

  “Me, too,” he whispered, ending the kiss. He straightened and strode to the dresser to borrow her hairbrush; he gave his hair a quick run-through, though there wasn’t much he could do about his unshaven cheeks. She wouldn’t have a razor or shaving soap. He braced himself for the confrontation ahead. “Don’t be long.”

  She yanked up the sheet, covering herself just before he opened the door. Her chin lifted, as if she braced herself, as well. “I’ll be there.”

  Little had changed in the house since TJ had been inside last. Same dark varnished floors. Same thick rugs. Same heavy furniture. He even remembered how the third step tended to creak when someone stepped on it just right.

  Like now, when he did.

  The dining room’s wide, open doorway faced the stairwell, and at the creaking sound, heads lifted. Expecting their surprise that it wasn’t Callie Mae, TJ descended the last step and strode into the room.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  Still a beautiful woman with her hair a deep brunette shade, her eyes that intriguing color of indigo, Carina Lockett McClure sat next to her husband with an authority deserving of a cattle queen. Seeing TJ, she stopped stirring milk into her coffee and slid a sharp glance up the stairs, then swung her gaze back to him. And paled.

  Penn breathed an oath.

  But it was Woollie who made the most noise, dropping his fork with a clatter against the plate and emitting a strangled sound of shock.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” he choked.

  “Reckon it’s clear where he came from,” Penn said, easing back in his chair, though his leather-brown eyes remained darkly riveted on TJ.

  “Tell me it wasn’t my daughter’s bedroom,” Carina said coolly, resuming her stirring.

  TJ halted. “Can’t do that, Carina.”

  She continued stirring. Except for the tightening of her fingers on the spoon, she held her emotion in check. “Then at least tell me you didn’t hurt her.”

  Her worry that he would stung deep. He waited for the unpleasant sensation to pass. “She’s always meant a hell of a lot to me.”

  “So you’ve said.” Carina set the spoon down, lifted the china cup and sipped. “She was agreeable to your… visit?”

  A rush of just how agreeable she’d been swarmed through him, sweet as molasses.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “I see.”

  At a rare loss for words, she turned to Penn. He reached out, took her hand into his and returned his attention to TJ.

  TJ could feel the subtle shift in command. Seemed motherhood threw Carina into tumult, and she needed Penn to handle matters for a spell.

  The man was capable. Often like a big brother to TJ, other times a revered boss, and still others like an adored father, Penn McClure had firmly staked his place as head of the C Bar C alongside Carina. Untold hours in the sun had tanned his skin and lined his face in a manner most found appealing. With his hair only slightly peppered with gray, he remained a handsome man, lean and fit, and still fiercely in love with his wife.

  “Sit down, TJ.” Penn indicated covered dishes on the table. “Flapjacks. Bacon. Scrambled eggs. Help yourself if you’re hungry.”

  The offer startled him; TJ stayed careful. “Can’t say as I expect your hospitality, Penn. Considering.”

  Penn’s grim nod indicated he understood what TJ meant. The last time they spoke, the conversation had been far from friendly.

  “Reckon all that’s in the past now, isn’t it?” Penn said.

  TJ couldn’t begin to think what brought on the man’s forgiveness, but if he was offering the proverbial olive branch, TJ was inclined to accept it. To say he missed Penn’s friendship was an understatement.

  Besides, no one attempted to throw him out of the house or burn some powder on him. Another good sign. Even with Woollie watching him with unguarded suspicion, TJ was compelled to accept Penn’s invitation.

  The room had fallen as silent as a fence post, but he sat. Instinct told him they were waiting for him to explain his being with Callie Mae, but he figured it best to give them time to get used to him first. So he filled his plate and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  Finally, Woollie tapped the coffeepot with his butter knife. “It’s hot if you want some.”

  TJ nodded with equal curtness. “I do. Thanks.”

  He reached for the pot. The front door opened, and footsteps trod across the carpet, growing louder in their approach. A man wearing a gray suit appeared in the wide doorway, a file of papers in one hand, as if he’d just gone outside to retrieve them, and TJ nearly poured black brew on Carina’s starched tablecloth.

  “TJ!” Harvey Whelan, all the way from Washington, D.C., stopped short. “Why, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “I’ll say the same about you,” TJ growled.

  He plunked the coffeepot down. The hatless and balding United States Treasury agent reached over and shook his hand with an apologetic grimace.

  “I’m sure you find my presence quite puzzling,” he said.

  TJ refrained from swearing. He’d been on pins and needles for weeks waiting to hear from the man. And he came to the C Bar C first? “You could say that.”

  TJ’s mind raced. Harvey knew something. Something important, and damn it, it had to be about Danny.

  The truth TJ craved.

  The facts Penn and Carina needed to hear.

  “I assure you, I was going to ride straight to Preston Farm next.” The government agent laid his file on the table and settled himself in his chair. Only then did TJ notice the half-finished meal on the plate. The unfolded napkin, set aside. The empty coffee cup. Clearly, the man had pulled in early enough to join Penn and Carina for breakfast. “But of course, this is more opportune.”

  Ten years ago, Harvey had been instrumental in helping Penn arrest Callie Mae’s unscrupulous father, Rogan Webb, in a count
erfeit ring case in Dodge City. Rogan Webb ended up dead, and Harvey had been a loyal friend of Penn and Carina’s ever since. His experience, trustworthiness and access to important investigative files proved him a true asset. TJ couldn’t think of a better man to help him clear his name.

  “You may as well know, TJ, we no longer believe you shot Danny,” Carina said quietly, as if she could read his thoughts.

  TJ’s attention jumped to her. He didn’t move.

  “Wasn’t like you, even if you claimed it was an accident,” Penn concurred. “We knew how much our son meant to you. You’d made it as plain as the horn on your saddle often enough.”

  “You were covering for someone, weren’t you?” Carina spoke in her cool, authoritative voice, the one that said she was convinced of what she said.

  TJ’s brain digested the news and battled the merits of protecting Maggie, one more time… or getting the whole damn thing off his chest. For good.

  “Imagine our surprise when Harvey informed us you’d requested his services.” Penn regarded TJ with an inscrutable expression.

  “Guess you needed to find out what happened that night, too.” Woollie, watching him, bit off a piece of crispy bacon.

  TJ cleared his throat and swept his glance over the four of them. “There was someone else in the horse barn. I need to find out who it was and why he was there.”

  Harvey clasped his fingers. “Under the circumstances, I kept TJ’s request for my help in the strictest confidence until the last possible moment, but based on my investigation of what happened the night Danny was killed, I have reason to believe Callie Mae is in danger. Which is why I rode out here to the C Bar C first.”

  TJ’s belly clenched. “You have evidence?”

  “Not quite. But close. I’ve uncovered crucial information which explains motive,” he said grimly.

  A stair creaked then, and TJ’s glance lifted to the stairwell. To Callie Mae walking down, one step at a time with her head held high, her hand on the polished banister, as if she needed the thing for support. To give her the courage she needed to face them in light of what she and TJ had done.