Billi Jean (25 page)

Glancing down at her clock again, she saw it still wasn’t quite three and, darn it, she really didn’t want to meet the guy at her house, but it would help the time go by until she could see Russell.

She wondered if he missed her. She hoped he did. He seemed to be interested in a whole lot more than sex. He’d brought quite a few of his things down to her house. That meant something. And he’d murmured to her when he’d left, early on Monday morning, that he wanted her in his bed.

His
bed. Meaning his bed at his ranch. She secretly wanted to be there, too. Not that she felt she had to hide it from him, but she didn’t want to put herself too far out there, either. If Russell hurt her, she might not recover. She recognised that already, and hadn’t even known the guy for more than a few weeks. But she had to admit that what she knew of him she liked. She liked his take-charge approach to life, his confidence, and especially his smile. And his humour wasn’t bad either. Kinda sexy—confident and witty. Dry. And, of course, she liked all those dirty little things he said to her while he was driving her absolutely crazy with his mouth, hands, and big, beautiful body…

She flushed and had to squirm on the seat of her truck, remembering the nights. And the days. But especially that last night. He’d made love to her all night. A banquet of sex. And he’d done it on purpose, it would seem, because right when he’d finally taken her body over the edge and was losing his own control, his hips pounding so firmly the headboard was hitting the wall, he’d leant down and husked in her ear how much he wanted her to feel him deep inside, fucking her hard and hot, for days afterwards. She’d come so intensely after he’d whispered those seductive little dirty words, she’d nearly blacked out.

She could still feel him now, days later. Deep, deep inside her body she could still feel the lingering fullness of his flesh, so steely hard, thrusting deep. And she might feel that possession in a few more hours, too.

Her body softened, wetting her panties so much she was afraid she’d leave a stain on the back of her skirt. Breathing deeply, she tried not to think of Russell for ten seconds and only managed because—
oh shit!
Her client was at her house. God, she only hoped she truly hadn’t made a stain on her skirt because she was aching, aroused to the point of pain, and really didn’t want to do more than tell the guy to leave, then go and masturbate for the rest of the evening.

She was truly pathetic. Taking a deep breath, she clenched her hands around the steering wheel and groaned, sounding like Russell.

Mr Daffie drove a big white Dodge pickup with an extended cab. Clean, white, and parked where Russell always parked.

Cutting her engine, she sighed and gathered her sketches, resigned to meeting Mr Daffie. And, since the man was here, she had no choice. A broad-shouldered, tall man in a black Stetson stood waiting, his truck door half open until she pulled up. Then he shut the door and turned with an odd expression, almost a grin but more like a smirk. Dressed in a light blue button-down like Russ sometimes wore, jeans, and a belt, he looked a great deal like most of the other men she’d seen around town, only he was tanned—unnaturally so—and looked…off. Too slick, perhaps?

She pasted a pleasant look on her face before she shimmied down out of her too-tall truck and tugged her skirt into place. He grinned wider and waved. Yeah, like she hadn’t seen him? She waved back and fixed her suit jacket and gathered her things.

“Hey, I’m Lance Daffie. You must be Susan Fielding, right? I hope so, or I’ve got the wrong house.”

She couldn’t shake off her unease about the guy, but held her hand out and took his in a firm shake. “Yep, that’s me. You needed to see my specs, right? Come on in, I just got back from Spokane and Mr Bishop mentioned you again today.” He’d actually set this up for her on Monday, but Mr Daffie had changed it to today, thus her rush back from Spokane.

“Great. Glad you could rearrange things to meet today. Want some help with that?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

She unlocked the front door, punched in her code Russell’s buddies had set up for her, and waited until it beeped green before waving her client in.

“Nice security.”

She frowned over at him as he checked the security out. Men and security systems, they were both odd.

“Thanks. My…”—Boyfriend? Lover?—“…friend hooked me up with some guys who installed it.”

He raised a blond brow. No doubt he’d not missed her stumble, but he didn’t say anything. Still, something about him was off. His teeth were too white and his skin looked tanned. As in, by a tanning bed. And something about him made her…nervous.

“Maybe I could get their names. I need something at my place. Can never be too sure with these things.”

These things?
She must have looked sceptical, because he looked away a little self-consciously and moved to the table, taking his hat off to reveal blond hair that looked sun-bleached. Maybe even bottled.

“Never can be too secure.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she cleared a space for the sketches. “Ah, well, that’s true.”

“You’re not from here, are you?”

Glancing up, she paused and tilted her head. How did people know that? “No, I’m new. From New York.”

His blue eyes lit up and he looked impressed. “What part? Upstate or the city?”

“Upstate,” she lied. She was getting good at that, because his grin deepened. He had dimples, and was really handsome in a too-polished way. But, still, something about him wasn’t right. Not right in a way that was making her a bit nervous.

After eyeing her speculatively, he glanced down at the sketches and was instantly involved in her work. “Amazing. Wow, this is amazing work…”

“Ah, I’ll be right back. Sit—please, sit—I have to freshen up.” Change her panties, she was certain. And not think of Russell. And she really didn’t want to be alone with this guy suddenly.

He glanced up, nodded, then sat, already sifting through the papers on her table. She felt a tiny bit better as he settled down—a tiny bubble of happiness at his reaction to her work. Her dad had always loved to see drawings before she allowed anyone else near them. She shrugged off her odd feeling. It was probably having another man here.

Her bedroom gave her a relief from the guy. Even the empty bed looked welcoming. She’d got dark brown satin sheets in Spokane, and even painted the walls in here to be a softer, warmer masculine tone. A rich burnt cinnamon showcased the bed and the dark wood of the doors and windows. It looked sexy and cosy. And she couldn’t wait for Russell to be all over those sheets.

Sighing, she cleaned her face and hands, hurriedly changed into a pair of French-cut black lace panties, fixed her thigh-highs and adjusted her skirt. She glanced at her makeup once and traced the faint white line of her scar. It was dulling out a bit more each day. She ran her fingertips over it lightly, thinking of how often Russ had pressed his lips there. Even in the middle of complete meltdown, he seemed to find that mark.

God, she could not go ten seconds without thinking of him.

And, if he was lucky, she might let him out of that bed after a few days.
No more roundups
, she was going to say, but froze. No more roundups? Who was she to say that?
God, Lacey, get your act together.

Frowning at herself in the mirror, she didn’t miss the way her face lit up when she thought of Russell, let alone how it softened at the thought of his rough hands on her skin. She cut the lights and headed back into the living room. There wasn’t really much she could do about it. She’d faced how much she missed Russell that first night.

She needed to talk to Mandy. She needed a girlfriend. One that wasn’t here and involved with his best friend, and, heck, she couldn’t call Mandy out of the blue, especially when her friend probably thought her dead. Even her dad would have given her some insight into what the heck was going on.

Russ had to bite his back teeth to keep his erection from nearly spilling down his jeans. He was so hot his jeans felt like some kind of torture device. His cock was strangled, ready to blow, his balls were on fire and there was only one thing keeping him from pulling his truck over and handling himself. He was three minutes from being inside Susan.

Licking his lips, he grimaced as he shifted down. It hurt. His dick was throbbing, wondering what was up. First there’d been days of sex like he’d never dreamed, then nothing. Not even a hand job. He was in agony every night but he’d be damned if he’d have let any of the men know he was so desperate for Susan he was jacking off. Eagle had smirked at him, but the man had no room to talk since he was sporting an erection over missing his woman, too.

Russell had stopped at the ranch for less than an hour after they’d had the cattle all accounted for. He’d showered, shaved and changed in record time. Now, he was practically breaking the sound barrier on the dirt road, trying to get to Susan’s house. He’d slowed once, but only because he’d nearly run over old Mac Carter in his rusty old Chevy, but Susan was going to be ready for him. He knew it. Knew she’d missed him. Knew she was waiting for him right now. He’d told her he’d be longer, but he knew she knew he’d be at her place before sundown. And he wanted her wet, hot and missing him as bad as he was missing her.

His cock jerked, swelled, had no place to go in his Wranglers, and he grimaced. He needed hot and hard. Then he’d consider taking Susan a million other ways. Just thinking of other ways had his jaw clenching again. He wanted her mouth. He wanted to dominate and control her in ways he’d never considered before. Sex was sex. Not with Susan. He needed something more from her.

This was Susan, though. Teasing, soft, warm Susan, and he wanted to show her a part of himself he’d never allowed any other woman to see. Would she like his fantasies?

She’d like them. She was curious, adventurous and too willing and eager to explore. And he wanted to explore. He wanted much more than to explore. Fuck it, he wanted to claim her. He wanted to let her know she was his in the most basic, elemental way a man could, because he was still feeling something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t as it should be.

He was falling, and falling deep. She was such a breath of sunshine. Even when she was quiet, she hummed with happiness—not out loud, but inside. Like a ray of light. And damn if he didn’t like her little teasing ways. And her smile. And how smart she was. She was strong, too. Such a tiny thing, but strong. He’d seen that the first day. Freezing on the side of the road and looking a bit scared, she was still brave enough to face down two strangers. Or plain stubborn enough.

And stubborn she was. She would give him a run. She wasn’t all out crazy like Katya, but she was sneaky and blindsided a man. That teasing little look after he’d paddled her ass? Then her quick smack on
his
ass? He’d died and gone to heaven and was on his way there again as soon as he could park the truck and rip her clothes off.

His blood chilled at the sight of a truck parked in her driveway. He didn’t miss the signs that the truck belonged to another man. Men had a way with their trucks women didn’t. White, neat, gun rack, dust on it, hay coming off the tailgate where it was closed. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

And there went his erection. Harder if possible. Tighter. Possession and jealousy warred with anger. Lust and something close to murder. He’d never felt this way before outside of a fire-fight. He’d never wanted to lay claim to a woman so much that she’d never look at another. Never wanted one so bad that he’d willingly kill for her, until Susan.

He fisted his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, then slowly, one by one, let his fingers up from the death grip. He concentrated on breathing and glared at the truck again.
Why? Who? And what the fuck?

He was out of the truck and at her door before he’d even realised it. He slammed the door open and there they were. His vision constricted to Susan. Susan, dressed in a short skirt that hugged her ass and cupped the flesh he suddenly wanted to spread, fill, pound into, take and claim. In high heels, black silk stockings, creamy silk blouse and her dark hair down her back, she looked like a sexy office Goddess.

She jumped, grabbed the table, her blue eyes widening in surprise. Then she gave him a look like he’d lost his fucking mind. Maybe he had.

“Who the fuck is that?” he demanded, not taking his eyes off her.

She narrowed her blue eyes to pure, pissed off warning slits.

His erection, already impossibly swollen, pulsed painfully. His body rushed to a dangerous level of arousal. She was going to fight him. Holy hell, he wanted that. Wanted her wet and wild, and demanding more from him, at the same time that he demanded more from her. He was in bad, wasn’t he?

“Russell Ryland, what kind of hello is that?” she demanded, hands on hips. She looked like some kind of enraged sex kitten. Pale silk blouse and, yeah, he could see the lace of her bra under that shirt, and her tight skirt, dark hose and those high heels were killers. Did she have no clue how sexy she looked? And she had a man in here with her. Alone.

“I asked you a question.”

“No.” She shook her head and a smile played at her lips—a tense, angry smile that would have set off warning bells, if all his blood wasn’t now pumping below the belt. Arms crossed, fingers doing that little dance, she glared up at him. “No, you didn’t.”

“Susan.”

The guy shifted, earned a quick, cold look that’d stopped men much tougher than this sunburnt bastard in their tracks. The bastard was big. Not as tall as Russell, but nearly. Broad shoulders, fit-looking, but with something off in his pale eyes.

“Yeah, right. Hey, listen, you two, I’m Lance, Mr Ryland, I’ll—”

Susan stepped over, still giving Russell that frown, as if that would keep him in line. She reached out and stopped the guy with a hand on his arm. She had no idea what Russell wanted to do to her for touching the guy. Hell,
he
didn’t even know.

“No! No, you won’t Lance. You sit right back down; we’re not done with those specs.” She barely gave the blond-haired guy any notice. “Listen, Major, I’m not quite sure what Wild West movie you hopped out of—”