Forever Dreams (Montana Brides) (31 page)

Gracie slipped on a pair of fire-engine red, five-inch heels made for seduction rather than comfort. When she took a step forward the concealed split on the right side of the gown opened to reveal a shameless expanse of leg. From the top of her thigh, to the tip of her red painted toenails, Gracie was all woman.
 

Taking another look in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection. If she didn’t know her exact height down to the last eighth of an inch she’d have sworn she looked six feet tall.
 

Gracie peeked out the curtains to see if Trent’s vehicle was still parked against the curb. Yep. One mud splattered truck sat on the street. Squaring her shoulders, she re-touched her lipstick, fluffed her hair and left the room. Gracie was ready to dice with the devil and the devil would lose.

Trent dug another hole in the ground. You wouldn’t think he’d just come from digging God knew how many post holes at the ranch the way his shovel plowed through the soil. He leaned back on the handle as his mom positioned a plant in the soft dirt.
 

Gracie had been taking a damned long time getting herself all prettied up for her date
.
And what was with his mom going along to? Did she need a chaperone that badly?
 

After a bit of encouragement, his mom had mentioned that they’d made reservations for an early dinner. Then they were going to the grand opening of a new art exhibition. That didn’t sound too wild. Gracie wouldn’t be able to get up to much mischief in a room full of arty types. He reckoned a couple of hours of intellectual conversation and creative chit-chat should bring her home to bed at a reasonable time. If he had to camp out on his mom’s couch to make sure Richard the Lionheart didn’t take too long saying goodnight, then by God he’d do it.
 

Trent turned at the sound of the screen door banging against its frame.
 

“Shit.”
The shovel dropped to the ground and
collided with his foot.

His mom looked up from positioning the shrub in the hole. “Trent McKenzie, watch your language.”

He didn’t hear much else of what his mom said. The pain in his foot receded to a dull throb. He could have sworn he felt dribble skimming down his chin.
 

Gracie leaned against the doorframe, all five-foot-one in flaming red silk, sending a blaze of heat roaring through his sleep-deprived body.
His breathing screamed to a shuddering halt and his blood surged as Gracie’s eyebrow arched at his crude choice of words. Her eyes briefly darted toward his mom.
 

“The shower’s all yours, Karen. I’ll wait for you inside.”

His mom stood up and dusted dirt off the knees of her jeans, trying to hold back a grin. “Thanks, Gracie. I’ll be ready soon.” She turned and looked at Trent. “Play nice or you’ll have me to answer to.”

He doubted she had anything to worry about on Gracie’s behalf. He couldn’t think past the curve of Gracie’s breasts pushed up against the top of her dress. His mom should be more concerned about her son if the gleam in Gracie’s eyes had been anything to go by.

“Do you want a drink?” Gracie stood in the living room doorway with a bottle of juice in her hand.
 

Trent’s body told him he needed something a little stronger than vitamin c, but his brain told him he’d better stick to something non-alcoholic. He’d need all his wits about him with Gracie standing like a pint-sized Venus on his mom’s wooden floors.

“Juice would be fine, thanks.” He sat down on the sofa, bouncing to his feet when she walked back into the living room. His jaw went slack as his eyes zeroed in on the naked thigh sauntering toward him. Holy cow. No wonder Gracie needed a chaperone. That dress would pull in any single male within a hundred yards.
 

She needed more than his mom as chaperone tonight. She needed him. And he would be coming whether she liked it or not. Looking down at his jeans and black shirt he decided they’d spruce up pretty fine after a quick dab with a wet cloth. “What time does the art show start?”

Gracie gave him a suspicious stare. “About seven. Why?”

“I thought I might come along with you and mom.”

“You can’t come. I’ve only got two tickets.”
 

Their fingertips touched as Gracie passed him the glass of juice, sending a spark of heat shooting through his body.
 

God in heaven, he must be getting desperate.
 

Rubbing her hand on the side of her dress, Gracie scooted back across the room.

“What about that Richard guy?” Trent asked. “Did he have his own ticket?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve got no idea whether he’s got a ticket or not.”

Trent glared at the split in the side of her dress. At least he could cross one male off his watch list. “It doesn’t matter how many tickets you’ve got. Who’s the artist?”

Gracie folded her arms under her ample cleavage, sending ripples of flesh toward the edge of her bodice.
 

Taking a long drink of his juice, he yanked his gaze up to her furious face. She wasn’t getting out of his mom’s place without him glued to her side. A thick sweater zipped up to her chin wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

“Luallen Dempsey.”

“Ha?”

“The artist, Trent. Luallen Dempsey is the artist exhibiting tonight.”

Clearing his throat, he headed across the room and picked up the phone. “There’s one good thing about small town life. I know just about everyone here.”
 

“It won’t do you any good. The tickets sold out last week.”

“I’m sure Luallen will be able to find another ticket for an old classmate.” He laughed at the evil glare Gracie speared him with. “Tough, honey.”

Gracie flounced toward the sofa. She sat down, crossing her legs. His tongue fell out of his mouth. A knowing grin slipped across her full lips and galvanized his brain into action. Either he got an extra ticket for tonight or she wasn’t moving from her seat.

Gracie sat perfectly still in the front seat of Trent’s truck as they drove home from the exhibition. She’d just been on the receiving end of one of the slickest manipulations she’d ever seen.
 

“That was nice of Diana to invite mom out for a coffee.”

Gracie tapped her foot on the floor. “If you believe for one moment Karen couldn’t have caught up her friend another time then you’re dreaming.”

“She must have been thinking about your beauty sleep. I’m a sucker for a good night’s sleep as well.”
 

Heat scorched along Gracie’s skin as she thought of the other things Trent liked doing in bed. Sleeping didn’t even make the top five.
 

She kept her gaze focused on the road ahead. Her almost ex-husband had stayed squished to her side all night. You couldn’t have passed a feather between their bodies as he introduced her to the crowd of people that had come to Luallen’s exhibition. The way he’d been acting, a woman could think he’d forgotten they weren’t going to be married for much longer.

“Did I tell you how good you look?”

Gracie held back a groan. “More than once.” Halfway through the night, she’d begun to regret her choice of dress. It was easy being brave in front of a mirror. But she hadn’t felt quite so confident with a six-foot human hunk machine plastered against her body. The dress was supposed to have been thirty minutes of payback time, not an evening of self-inflicted torture.
 

The front porch light of Karen’s house loomed up ahead.
 

Trent parked on the curb. Gracie threw open the truck door. She wasn’t going to be left alone with this cowboy for one minute longer than she needed to be.
 

She grabbed a handful of skirt, pulling it above her knees so that she could make a quick escape. “Thanks for the ride, bye.” Her feet hit the grass at a run and her five-inch heels sunk into the soft soil, tilting her body like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Trent laughed.

“It’s not funny.” Gracie yanked her leg out of the ground and wobbled as the other heel disappeared. Pulling her feet out of the offending shoes, she glared at Trent. So much for her quick getaway. He stood beside his truck, arms crossed, with a smile on his face that left her breathless. Trouble wasn’t far away.

Bunching the hem of her dress in one hand and her shoes in the other, she headed toward the front door. She focused every last scrap of intelligence on getting the key in the lock and the door closed in Trent’s face. Mr. McKenzie and his wandering hands could stay outside in the crisp evening air.
 

Gracie didn’t hear him come up behind her, didn’t feel his body against her skin until he hooked her under his arm, lifting her through the door like a football. “Trent McKenzie, you put me down right this instant before I sock you with my heels.”

He grinned at the wiggling bundle in his arms. “You’ve got a lot to learn about this cowboy.” He flipped her against his chest, making sure her feet weren’t touching the ground.

Just as she started to let rip on another round of demands, his mouth covered hers in a hot and hungry kiss.

She didn’t mean to kiss him back. She really didn’t. Her body decided it wasn’t listening to her anymore. Her mouth opened, starting its own greedy inspection of his soft lips and demanding tongue. Her legs wound around his waist, pushing against parts of his anatomy that showed her what he had on his mind.

Trent held her bottom, lifting her against his body, groaning as she made full use of the extra leverage.

Gracie let her hands wander. She needed to feel his hot skin beneath her palms, tease and taunt all the places that turned his body into liquid fire. As her mouth devoured his, her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. Slipping her hands beneath the cotton, she sighed at the feel of his muscles bunching under her soft caress. Gracie rubbed the tips of her fingers across his chest and Trent moaned. He staggered backward, dropping her to the ground.

“Ow.” Bending forward, he rubbed the back of his head.
 

Gracie tried to work out what had happened. She shook her head and blinked a few times. “Saved by the coat-stand,” she whispered, trying to figure out how she’d ended up attached to Trent’s body.

He gave his head another rub. “You don’t have to be, honey. It could be a temporary glitch.” His voice washed across the room in a husky whisper.
 

Goose-bumps broke out all over her body. Trent’s eyes were almost pitch black, his breathing as shallow as hers. Gracie took a step backward. “I can’t do this. I won’t get back together with you just because you want to add another branch to your family tree. This…thing that happens between us has to stop.”

Trent’s eyebrows rose. His mouth snapped into a grim line. “This
thing
has nothing to do with having kids. Since when has sex ever needed to be anything more than sex?”

“Since you tricked me into marrying you in Vegas so you could keep Jordan’s hands off the ranch, that’s when. You can forget about getting me all hot and steamy. Ripping up our divorce papers isn’t going to happen.” She stared at the nincompoop in front of her. “And talking about divorce papers, where are they?”
 

“I don’t know. And why would I want to rip them up?” His voice matched her low roar. “A man would have to be half-dead to want to tie himself to a tease for the rest of his life.”

Gracie’s temper sizzled. “
Tease?
Who are you calling a tease, Trent McKenzie? You didn’t seem worried a minute ago when your tongue was dancing inside my mouth. Maybe you should go home and think about your definition of the word tease.” Gracie threw the front door open. “On second thoughts, thinking’s not what you do best. So why don’t you just go home.”
 

Trent’s eyes were as cold as an arctic wind. He took one last look at her before he headed toward his truck. Without a backward glance he started the engine and drove away.

Gracie stood in the open doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. She stared down the street long after he’d gone. Long after the last of her tears had dried on her face. With a sinking feeling she knew she wouldn’t be seeing Trent McKenzie anytime soon.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Gracie’s head bounced off the headrest as Jordan drove like a maniac over a mountain trail behind the Triple L. “Are you sure this surprise doesn’t involve Trent?”

 
“Don’t look so suspicious. In all the time you’ve known me have I ever lied to you?”

Gracie grabbed hold of the edge of the seat, bracing herself for another bone jarring jolt.
 
“No,” she muttered. “But I wouldn’t put it past you to stretch the truth like a rubber band.”

 
“I’m wounded.”

“Yeah, right,” Gracie snorted. “Not as wounded as my body’s going to be from this track we’ve been driving over.”

“Hold on tight, Gracie girl. We’ve just about reached the end of this dip and then it’s straight up.”

Her body lurched to the left, straining against the seatbelt. “Tell me again why I’m here and not enjoying the waffles your mom said she’d cook for me?”
 

“She offered to make both of us waffles. Just goes to show how much I enjoy your company when I’d give up mom’s breakfast specialty.”

“Or how much you’re not telling me.”

“That too.” He grinned. “We’ll be there soon.”
 

Gracie glanced across the cab, trying to figure out why it had been so important for Jordan to drag her out of bed at the crack of dawn. For her last Saturday in Bozeman she’d planned a quiet day of retail therapy, revisiting all her favorite stores.
 

Lumbering up the side of a mountain, even if it was an impressive mountain, wasn’t part of her de-stress plan. In fact her stress levels had rocketed out of control when she realized where Jordan was heading. From the moment they’d crossed into Triple L territory she’d felt like a fugitive, returning to the scene of her crime. All week she’d kept herself busy, ducking for cover whenever anyone mentioned Trent’s name. Now here she was, sitting beside his brother and driving over his land as if nothing had happened.