Calder Pride (8 page)

When the song ended, he followed her back to the bar. She picked up her margarita glass and turned to him, all smiles and bewitching green eyes.

“So, tell me, Dakota—are you a real cowboy or the urban kind?”

I
’ve been a real one.” He leaned both arms on the bar top and hooked his hands around the Lone Star bottle he’d been nursing for the last hour. “Maybe someday I’ll go back to it. It’s hard to say.” Logan took a swig of the tepid beer and cut a sideways glance at her, an eyebrow arching in question. “And you? Have those boots ever waded through the muck of a calving shed?”

“They have,” Cat answered with a trace of smugness, then raised one foot, an audacious twinkle in her eyes. “Want to smell? Heaven knows, once it gets into the leather, you can never get all the odor out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled.

She liked the sound of it, and the warm feeling it gave her. At the same time she wished they were still out on the dance floor. She didn’t want to engage in all this small talk; she didn’t want to know all these little details about him. It only made it harder to pretend that he was Repp. And that was what she wanted—to be in his arms, close her eyes and imagine it was Repp holding her, that it was his hands touching her, his lips kissing her.

Maybe it was wrong; maybe it was foolish. But it
was what she desperately wanted.

“Is there a problem?”

At his prompting question, Cat realized she was staring intently at her drink. Hurriedly she fixed a quick, bright smile on her face and looked up, forcing herself to meet his sharply probing gaze.

“Someone told me that every tequila bottle has a worm in it. I was just checking to make sure there wasn’t one in my drink.” She rattled the cubes in her glass and raised it to her lips. She tossed down a long swallow of the watered-down drink. Just for an instant, the room swam, reminding Cat that she’d had enough.

Apparently satisfied with her explanation, he turned at right angles to the bar and cast an idle glance around the room, then paused. “I think your friends are ready to leave.”

Cat looked back at their table and saw Kinsey and J.J. standing beside it. Kinsey waved and signaled that she and J.J. were leaving, then mouthed the words
Good hunting,
and winked. Laughing, Cat waved a farewell to them, a little relieved that she didn’t have to go through a tearful good-bye scene with them.

When she turned back to the bar, he eyed her curiously. “Aren’t you going with them?”

She shook her head. “We came in separate vehicles.” She went to set her drink on the countertop and misjudged the distance, nearly tipping it over. “Whoops.” She quickly righted it. “That was close.”

“I’m not sure you’re in any shape to be behind a wheel.”

“I think you’re right,” Cat agreed with a wise nod. “Maybe we should dance instead.”

She caught hold of his hand and struck out for the dance floor, in full confidence that he would come along. That certainty briefly annoyed him, but
it vanished when she turned into his arms and fitted herself naturally to his length, a hand cupping the back of his head and her face nuzzling the side of his neck.

“This is much better,” she murmured on a contented sigh.

At the moment, she felt very much like a cat to him, soft and purring, pressing close and rubbing against him. And he was enjoying every minute of it. That was the problem; to touch was to want more. Always more. And he had spent too many nights alone, without the warmth of a woman next to him. He told himself to stop being a fool and simply accept what was offered.

“Maggie—or whatever—”

“Ssh.” She pressed two fingers against his lips. “Please. Don’t talk. Let’s just dance.”

But they were doing more than just dancing. Logan knew it, whether she recognized it or not. Every step, every rocking sway of hips brought them into closer alignment, their bodies seeking and adjusting to the contours of the other.

Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the roundness of her breasts pressed against him, or the evocative stir of her breath against his neck. Giving in to the building ache in his loins, he released her fingers and splayed both hands along her slender back. With a turn of his head, he explored the silken texture of the midnight-black hair near her temple.

The brush of his lips against her hair ignited little tremors of longing. Music swirled somewhere in the background as Cat closed her eyes, memorizing the imprint of his long body against hers—the way she should have done with Repp. Her hands wandered over his arms and upper body, fixing the feel of his muscled shape in her mind while her lips committed to memory the salty flavor of his skin.

But any satisfaction she felt was fleeting, leaving her with a need for more. An impossibility, it seemed, until Cat felt the moist heat of his mouth along her cheek. Hungering for a man’s kiss, she turned to seek it, aching to taste the hard, driving passion of unchecked desire. Again, he lifted his head that tantalizing fraction that had their chins touching and their breath co-mingling.

With lids half-shuttered, Cat glanced up and found him watching her. Suddenly she couldn’t look anywhere else but into his eyes, drawn by their large black centers ringed by a band of silver.

“Kiss me,” she whispered as the fierce ache rose again.

His head tilted, changing angles as he lipped her mouth.

Groaning in frustration, Cat slid her fingers into his coarse black hair and tried to force the contact. The muscles in his neck bunched, resisting the pressure she applied while he rubbed his mouth over her lips. Every quivering breath she drew became a tiny moan.

When he lifted his head again, she found him still watching her through eyes three-quarters lidded. He made no move to come back.

Did he think she was going to beg for his kiss? Cat wondered, suddenly furious at the thought. Asking was one thing, but she would never plead.

“Damn you,” she cursed in a hoarse whisper.

A small, quick gleam of satisfaction blazed in his eyes. Then it was forgotten as his mouth came down to claim her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. Instantly, Cat sagged against him and gave up all pretense of moving to the music.

This was what she had missed, this passion that she had wanted for so long and thought she would never know. But here it was, life in all its awesome
wildness. She felt it. She felt all of it.

When his mouth rolled off hers, Cat moved to reclaim it in quick aggression. But his head lifted and his fingers closed around her wrists, dragging her arms from around his neck and drawing them down to wedge a space between them.

Slow to surface, her senses still spinning, Cat swayed into him and tried to pull her hands free without success. “No, don’t let me go.” Her voice was a husky murmur, the words slurring. “Hold me.”

. “The song is over,” he told her and shot a look at the other couples making their way off the dance floor. But Cat took no notice of them.

“I don’t care,” she declared and arched closer, needing to feel his arms around her again.

For a flicker of an instant, his gray eyes mirrored that same desire, and her heart leaped in response. Then a muscle flexed along his jaw, and it was gone. No, not gone. Controlled, she realized. The same way Repp had. Fury swept her, blinding, hot, raw.

“Damn you.” Rage choked her voice. “How can you not want me? What do I have to do?”

Grimness hardened his features. “You need some coffee.” He shifted his hold on her, seizing her elbow and turning her toward the bar.

She twisted her arm away and all but stomped her foot. “Don’t you tell me what I need!” Cat stormed, suddenly embarrassed and dangerously close to tears. “You aren’t my keeper. I don’t need a keeper. I—”

“You sure as hell need somebody looking after you,” he muttered, jaw clenched, his eyes the hard color of granite. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are more than half drunk.”

“Maybe I am.” She weaved a little, feeling the effects of the margaritas and conscious of the world swimming at the edges of her vision. Pride lifted her chin high. “Maybe I need to be. It’s really none of
your business though, is it?”

Something sardonic glittered briefly in his eyes. “You’re right—drunks aren’t normally my business, but there are always exceptions.”

“You talk big, but that’s all you are is just talk.” Cat waved a hand in dismissal of him, then looked him up and down with contempt. “You aren’t a man. You just masquerade as one.”

“You’re going to say that to the wrong man one of these times, lady.”

“Lady? Who asked you to treat me like a lady?” she hurled in anger. “I’m not a lady, do you hear?”

“That’s right.” The thinness of his smile held no humor. “You’re Maggie the Cat.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Hot tears suddenly burned in her eyes. “And I want off this damned tin roof!” Fighting the tears, Cat swung away and immediately lost her balance, staggering sideways. His hands caught her, steadied her. She shook them off. “Leave me alone. You didn’t want to touch me before, so don’t touch me now!”

“You’re wrong if you think I didn’t want to—”

Cat plunged onto the dance floor rather than listen to his explanation. She had heard them all before. She twisted her way around the dancing couples. On the other side, she found a path through the crowded tables and headed for the door, suddenly anxious to leave. In her haste, she bumped against a chair, caromed off it and stumbled straight into a plaid-shirted cowboy.

“Whoa, there, little darlin’.” He hooked an arm around her waist, catching her when she would have careened off.

“Sorry—” Self-conscious, she looked up.

“Oooowhee!” He turned wide-eyed with appreciation at the sight of her upturned face. “Look at the pretty package that just landed in my arms.” He
grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “Little darlin’, I do believe that band is playing our song. What d’ya say we rub bellies?”

“I—”

“She’s with me.”

When Cat glanced over her shoulder, she found herself looking into familiar gray eyes, discovering a hard glitter of impatience in them. “I am not,” she denied hotly.

But the cowboy had already withdrawn his arm, turning Cat loose. “I saw the two of you dancing—if you can call it that,” he said. “Had a fight, did you?”

“Something like that.”

“We did not.” But neither man listened to Cat.

“I envy you the kissin’ and makin’ up,” the cowboy said. “It’ll be hot springs tonight—and I ain’t talking about Arkansas.”

“Now that is a laugh.” Sarcasm coated her words. Cat stayed long enough to see gray eyes narrow in temper, then swung on a heel and walked off, the cowboy’s laughter following her, masking the sound of a second set of long-striding footsteps.

Cat pushed out the door and stepped into the warm Texas night. The fresh air slammed into her. Everything started to spin, and she grabbed one of the wooden posts that supported the sidewalk’s shed roof. She held herself very still and waited for the ground to stop spinning. When it did, she saw a second pair of boots in her line of vision, and a pair of long legs. Her gaze traveled up them, but she already knew who they belonged to.

“Why don’t you go back to Dakota and leave me alone?” she demanded, her voice thick with a confusing churn of emotions. “I told you before—I don’t need a keeper. I can take care of myself.”

“I saw the way you were taking care of that cowboy.”

“I could have handled him”—perversely, Cat had to add—“assuming I wanted to.”

“I suppose you’d rather be back inside, ‘rubbing bellies’ with that rodeo Romeo,” he mocked.

“What do you care?” she taunted. “You sure as hell weren’t interested.”

His hand shot out and gripped the post directly above her fingers as he suddenly loomed closer, a ridging of anger in his face. “You just keep digging that spur in, don’t you?” he muttered. “For your information, I’ve made love to a woman in a lot of different places, but never in the middle of a public dance floor. I draw the line there, odd as that may sound to you.”

She felt the heat of embarrassment creep into her cheeks and quickly lowered her gaze, looking anywhere but directly at him. He dropped his hand from the post and took a step back, dragging in a deep steadying breath.

“Now,” he continued, “I don’t know who you’re trying to get even with or why—though I can guess. But I suggest you find yourself a telephone, give your boyfriend a call, and patch things up if you can.”

“I can’t,” she flashed, unable to check the tears that filled her eyes.

“Why? Or are you too proud to make the first move?” he challenged.

Cat looked at him for a long, tension-filled second, fighting the words and the pain of them. “No,” she said at last. “He’s dead.”

Stunned by her answer, he drew back. “I’m sorry. I—”

“I don’t want your pity.” She couldn’t take it, not from him. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What would you know about it?” Hurting, Cat
lashed out. “What would you know about anything?” Her throat tightened, turning her voice hoarsely thick. “Dear God, why am I even talking to you?”

Cat let go of the post and started forward, blindly digging in her pocket for the ignition keys. He stepped into her path. “Where are you going?”

“It so happens I’m leaving—if it’s any of your business.” She struggled to hold onto her anger. It was the only defense she had. She was suddenly tired—tired of fighting, tired of thinking, and most of all, tired of the loneliness. Catching hold of the key ring, she pulled the keys from her pocket.

“You are in no condition to drive.” He took the keys from her before Cat had a chance to protest. “Where are you staying?”

“I don’t know. A hotel somewhere. I haven’t gotten around to checking into one.” Cat wasn’t looking forward to searching one out, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“In that case, you might as well get a room here at the Stockyard Hotel.” He motioned to a set of double doors a few feet away.

Cat hesitated, then nodded. “Good idea.”

This easy acquiescence seemed totally out of character for a woman who had exhibited no signs of being either meek or submissive. Logan’s gaze sharpened on her. The fiery sparkle of temper was gone from her eyes. Shadows lurked in them now, darkening and dulling the green of them.

It touched something inside him and made him gentle when he cupped a hand under her elbow and escorted her into the hotel lobby. “The registration desk is over here.” He pointed to it.