Gentling the Cowboy, Page 3

  In the middle of an appreciative sigh, Sarah realized her gaze had followed her thoughts in a less-than-subtle ogling of his lower assets. She looked up quickly, her face heating with a blush when she met his eyes. Quick. Say something. “I like your . . . uh . . . jeans.”

  Who the hell says that?

  “Pardon the dust.” He brushed his hand down one thigh, a move that sent responding flicks of heat through Sarah. There it was again, that almost smile. “I usually shower when I get home, but it was already occupied.”

  You could have joined me, Sarah thought, surprised at herself. Oh, my God, I’m smiling like some street lunatic. Don’t look guilty; look away or he’ll know what you were thinking. She met his eyes and the heat that flew between them made her start considering all sorts of impulsive things—many of which included the removal of some or all of their clothing.

  Sarah gulped.

  Okay, this is not a good idea. I don’t know this man.

  But I’d like to.

  Oh, how I’d like to.

  Stop, that! she chastised her raging libido. This summer is about breaking free, living, finding my writer’s voice—not about having a one-night stand just because my sense of direction sucks.

  She sought sanity by turning her attention to the table. The very long, very sturdy table. What would it be like to push the plates aside and . . .

  A huge smile spread across her face as images of them entwined passionately elicited another thought. I have a naughty side.

  Me.

  Who knew? All I needed was the right inspiration!

  Tony moved to stand behind one of the chairs and held it out for her to sit. When she did, he pushed it in with more force than she’d expected and she gasped. He took the seat across from her but looked far from happy about it, making her wonder if their attraction was indeed mutual.

  Sarah had never considered herself a beauty, nor was she used to men glowering at her like she was an . . . uninvited guest? I’m such an idiot. He’s feeding me out of pity. This isn’t a date. No amount of leering at him will change that. Sarah groaned, pushed her seat back, and stood. “I should go.”

  “Sit,” he said in an authoritative voice she was sure moved most people to obedience.

  At first glance, she’d thought his eyes were hazel, but in the dim dining room lighting they were a deeper green. The air thickened with tension. Heart pounding in her chest, Sarah stood immobile, like prey frozen in a field.

  What would it be like to be with a real man? One who wouldn’t fumble with a bra strap or ask you if you really wanted to do it so many times you began to ask yourself the same question. No, Tony would take what he wanted.

  She shivered with pleasure at the thought.

  Taken.

  Now that would be something to write about.

  “Sit,” he ordered again, more softly, and Sarah did so only because her knees gave out beneath her. He could ask me for almost anything in that tone and I wouldn’t refuse.

  I should leave now.

  He could be dangerous.

  Or he could be the best mistake I’ve ever made.

  The sound of Melanie organizing plates in the adjoining room shook Sarah free of her hormonal stupor. She said the first thing that came to her mind. “I saw your horses. They’re beautiful. How many do you have?” She wasn’t sure he was going to answer her at first. If the harsh set of Tony’s jaw was anything to go by, he was enjoying their time together much less than she was.

  “Depends on the season,” he answered vaguely.

  “And they’re all quarter horses?” Is it wrong to ask questions just so I can hear his knee-weakening drawl again?

  “Most of ’em.”

  Melanie placed two glasses of lemonade between them.

  Sarah thanked her and took a long sip, half closing her eyes as she enjoyed its refreshing coolness. When she opened them, she noticed Tony looking at her intently, looking even less happy, if that were possible.

  She grew nervous, and when she was nervous she tended to ramble. “Did you see Scooter outside?” she asked, but continued without waiting for his answer. “I put him in a paddock because it was too hot to leave him in the trailer. I hope that was okay. I thought I was at Lucy’s place when I did it.”

  “Are you married?” His voice broke through her monologue like a bolt of lightning.

  “No,” she said quickly, her mouth working faster than her brain. “I’m single. Totally single.” She grabbed a napkin and practically shoved it in her mouth to stop the flow of words. Could I be more obvious?

  Think.

  Think of something cool to say.

  Nothing came to mind.

  Melanie returned with generous platters of steak and vegetables, explaining she would be back in the morning to clean up. The click of the outside door announced her departure and echoed through the quiet house. They ate in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

  “I don’t usually do this,” Sarah blurted out. “Not that we’re doing anything more than eating. And of course I do that on a regular basis. Eat, I mean. I just don’t . . .”

  “Do more than dinner?” he asked, his expression unreadable as he laid his fork down beside his plate.

  She nodded. “Yes, that part. I don’t want you to think because you saw me in a towel . . .”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with humor.

  Oh, God, he’s laughing. My fantasy cowboy is laughing at me.

  Embarrassed, she threw her napkin at him. “It’s not funny.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “It is, actually.”

  Sarah crossed her arms with a bit of a huff. “It had to be said or things could get awkward.”

  “You mean more than this?” His grin was unrepentant.

  Imagining the evening through his eyes, Sarah groaned. He was probably hoping she would talk less, eat more, and get out of there quickly. “I do appreciate you not calling the police when you found me here.”

  “The sheriff would have loved that. Best breakin story ever.”

  “I didn’t break in—” she started to say, but stopped when all the emotions of the day rushed in and, combined with her sudden fatigue, brought an embarrassing sheen of tears to her eyes.

  All humor left Tony’s face. He looked at the door quickly as if that would somehow conjure up his housekeeper. “Don’t cry . . .”

  “I’m not crying,” Sarah denied hotly and sniffed. Great, I bet my nose is turning red. A man like Tony probably dated sophisticated women: women who would know exactly how to flirt with him. They’d entice rather than entertain him.

  What do I do when I’m given an evening alone with the sexiest man I’ve ever met? Sarah sniffed again and looked around for a tissue. Nothing worth documenting unless I decide to write an article about how to make an idiot of myself in ten easy steps.

  He stood abruptly; his chair teetered and almost toppled behind him. “You should try calling your friends again.”

  Party’s over.

  Get out.

  Sarah stood and followed him back to the living room and the phone.

  Hey, Texas, so far you’re not that good for my ego.

  “Thanks, but it’s probably best if I just load Scooter and go. Sounds like I have a night of driving ahead of me.”

  He stopped and turned so abruptly that she walked straight into him. Everything she’d admired earlier was acutely more amazing pressed up against her. He steadied her with a hand on either arm and eased her back, but not before she’d experienced her first dose of gut-clenching lust that tempted her to launch herself back into his arms.

  Although that would make a good story to tell my friends.

  I thought you said he didn’t call the sheriff when you broke into his house, so how did you end up arrested?

  Oh, that happened when I mauled him even after he kept asking me to leave. You would have, too. He was gorgeous.

  His hands dropped away and for a moment Sarah forgot why she’d follo
wed him. You know, besides wanting to stare up at him speechlessly and drool for one last time before I leave.

  “I can’t let you go . . .” he said.

  Thank God.

  “. . . until you contact someone. No telling where you’d end up on your own.”

  Okay, that last part killed the mood a bit.

  Now I remember why I want to write. Reality sucks. Watch out, Mr. Cowboy. When I put you in a book, you’re going to be kissing my feet and begging me to stay. Sarah raised her chin with renewed pride and said, “I’ll call them one more time, but I’m leaving even if they don’t answer. Where I end up is none of your concern.”

  Now I sound like a heroine in a romance novel.

  Take that, Mr. Sexy Cowboy.

  Tony looped his thumbs through his belt and said, “In Texas, if you find someone in your shower, you’re responsible for their welfare for at least twenty-four hours.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to argue the point, then cocked her head to the side and asked, “Did you just make another joke?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. Note to self, dry humor in an otherwise stern character is intriguing—would even be sexy if I wasn’t the butt of his joke.

  She defended her arrival. “I wouldn’t be here if all the damn ranches in Texas didn’t have the same name.”

  A hint of a smile curled one side of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just give me the phone,” Sarah said and stepped past him.

  He caught her arms midstep, spun her, and held her just in front of him. The hot look in his eyes sent another rush of desire through Sarah. He wants me. Her mouth went dry and she flicked her tongue over her bottom lip.

  The move caught his eye, but instead of crushing her to him with the kiss she anticipated, he set her back from him again and said, “My number is near the phone if you want your friends to call you back here.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and left.

  Fanning her face, Sarah picked up the nondescript black phone and reluctantly dialed her friend’s number. Lucy was probably frantic by now. The phone rang once. Then twice.

  Or not.

  A machine picked up after the fifth ring. “Hi, Lucy. It’s Sarah. I had a little trouble finding your place so I am at—I’m at a friend’s house. Anyway, when you get this message please call me.” She left Tony’s number and hung up the phone.

  He wanted me.

  I know he did.

  Or I’m desperate enough to see only what I want to see . . . like a cattle ranch where there are only horses.

  Chapter Three

  The cooler evening air helped clear Tony’s head as he leaned against the gate of Scooter’s paddock. That woman has to go. He wasn’t celibate, but the women he’d been with had no illusions about why they were together. He didn’t have to make excuses or pretend to want to stay until morning.

  None of them had ever looked up at him with the open innocence of his little blonde intruder. He’d bet money on two things: she was a virgin, and she wanted him. Her interest had been obvious, but in an entirely different way than the bold women he was used to.

  A woman like Sarah would think sex came with a commitment. She’d be hurt when I asked her to leave. One night of exploring that tight little body of hers wouldn’t be worth the aggravation that would likely follow. He went instantly, painfully hard as he remembered how she’d looked, mostly naked, in his shower. During his celebrity years, he’d encountered many beautiful women. Women who were taller than Sarah, thinner, more polished. He didn’t remember any of them taking his breath away or scattering his thoughts with a simple smile. Dinner had made the situation worse rather than better and given him an uncomfortable realization: One night wouldn’t be enough.

  He sensed her approach even before he heard her soft footsteps, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Her image was already too vivid in his mind, and all he would see was a woman who needed to leave. Now rather than later.

  She stepped onto the bottom wooden panel of the paddock fence next to him and leaned forward to call her horse, who met her caressing hand eagerly.

  Lucky horse.

  “I put my luggage back in my SUV. All that’s left is to load Scooter and I’ll be on my way.”

  Don’t ask. It’s better not to know. “Did you finally reach your friends?” And don’t look. He did and lost himself for a moment in those large brown eyes of hers.

  “No, but they know I’m coming. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll find a gas station on the way and buy a map.” The forced optimism in her voice didn’t fool him.

  Don’t get involved. “No.”

  A line of confusion creased her flawless forehead. “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re not leaving tonight.”

  Delicious pink lips pursed in displeasure. “I don’t remember asking if I could.” She seemed to consider her own statement and said, “If you’re worried about me, I can call you when I get there so you’ll know that I made it okay.”

  A reasonable solution. So why was everything in him rejecting the idea? “I’ll call Melanie and have her prepare a guest room for you.”

  With a hand on one hip, his little blonde angel said, “I’m perfectly capable of finding Lucy’s place. I made it here on my own.” When he opened his mouth to say something, she cut him off and said, “By here, I mean Texas.” She raised one hand up between them to silence him. “Don’t say it. I appreciate your offer of a room, but I can’t stay here.”

  Walk away. She’s not your problem. Nod, shake her hand, and head back into the house. The impatience he felt toward himself echoed in his curt tone as he said, “You’re tired. Your horse is tired. It’s almost a day’s trip. It doesn’t make sense to leave tonight.”

  Arms resting on the fence, Sarah chewed her bottom lip and studied her horse. “Is there a hotel nearby? I’d have to leave Scooter here for the night, but I could pay you.”

  “I don’t want your money, and town is an hour away.” God help him, he didn’t want to be paid, he wanted her.

  He leaned down, close enough so that when she turned her head he could almost taste her lips beneath his. The soft scent of her filled him with a desire to lay her down and claim her right then and there. She licked her bottom lip again. The tip of her tongue left a wet trail that he eagerly wanted to follow.

  She whispered. “I don’t know you.”

  We can remedy that.

  She was innocently wanton. Did she have any idea what her pose was doing to him? With one high-heeled foot hitched up on the lower plank, and leaning forward as she was, she was offering a temptation any man would have trouble resisting.

  Didn’t I just decide she was off limits? Nothing has changed. The best thing I can do is agree and let her go. Tony straightened and took a step back; his next words were a concession to an inner battle he was losing. “I want you to stay.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, the little crease returned to her forehead. “Do you always get what you want?”

  He turned away, adjusted his hat, and rested his forearms on the top of the fence a foot away from hers. In a tired voice he said, “Never.”

  Oh, now that’s just not fair.

  I already want to throw all decorum to the wind and jump him—do you have to make me like him, too?

  All that manly talk and now a hint of save-me sadness? Where do I sign up for this ride?

  I should write that down.

  Save-me sadness.

  Which doesn’t mean I can stay here tonight.

  I can’t because . . .

  Wait, I don’t have a boyfriend, a job, or, apparently, even reliable friends. If I leave now, it’s a slap in the face of fate. Opportunities like this don’t just happen. They’re a gift.

  Sarah used her peripheral vision to give the man next to her another once over.

  And what a gift.

  So what if the last ten women who accepted his offer to stay are buried in the back field? Note to se
lf: check back field for mounds. This is what I asked for, dreamed of, came out here determined not to leave without: an adventure.

  Schooling her features, she hoped she didn’t appear psychotically excited by her decision. “One night.” She held her breath and waited for his response to her surrender. Their eyes met and held for a moment, charging the air between them. She leaned toward him, her eyes half closed in anticipation of his kiss.

  “You should go answer that,” Tony said abruptly.

  Sarah’s eyes shot open. Still in a bit of a daze, she asked, “Answer what?”

  “The phone,” Tony said, a glint of humor lighting his eyes. “I don’t get many calls. It’s probably your friend.”

  “Oh,” she said. Damn. “Thanks.” She tried, but failed, to sound happy about it.

  If that’s Lucy now, she has the world’s worst timing.

  Thanks for nothing, Lucy.

  You never really get the apology you imagine you’re owed.

  Sarah listened to Lucy’s long explanation about why she’d been away from home and had turned her cell phone off: last-minute errands; her brother needed her help with something. The whole story sounded a bit contrived, and Lucy’s contriteness was sadly lacking. You don’t let a friend drive for three days, then play hide-and-seek with them on the day they arrive.

  Lucy said, “Things have just been crazy here these last few days. I should have called you and told you now isn’t a good time to come, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

  Well, this is awkward.

  She continued, “Of course, I can’t wait to see you. You could probably stay through the weekend, but after that, I don’t know. My brother changed his mind about having someone here for the summer.”

  Because why not drive cross-country with your horse for a weekend?

  Sarah opened her mouth to tell her friend just what she thought of her when a thought struck her. Things happen for a reason, and a woman could find herself stranded in worse places. “I’m settled in here for the night, Lucy. I’m fine.”