Gentling the Cowboy (5 page)

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.”

Lucy said, “I didn’t realize you had other friends in the area.”

“I didn’t know it myself until today.”

“Then this all worked out for the best, I guess. How long do you think you’ll stay there?” Lucy asked, her relief obvious.

Until Mr. Sexy Cowboy has me physically removed from his property or I wake up, realize how insane this all is, and leave while I still have some dignity.

“I’m not sure,” Sarah said vaguely.

“Hopefully we can get together before you leave.”

Still irritated with Lucy, Sarah thought,
A few hours ago, I would have jumped at the chance to see you, but I’ve kind of moved on.
“Sure.”

After replacing the headset on the cradle, Sarah smiled all the way to her vehicle
.
Something inside her clicked into place and she felt inspired. She dug through her oversized purse for her notebook. She’d gone from having nothing to write about to not knowing how to start recording everything she didn’t want to forget about this trip. A story was already forming in her mind, tickling her imagination.
A contemporary romance—a sexy one.
She jotted in her notebook:
Strong heroine who is willing to take risks. She yearns for something or someone she can’t have.

Yearns.
Sarah underlined the word twice.
That’s a good place to start.

“Was that your friend on the phone?” Tony asked from beside her. Sarah let out a yelp of surprise and dropped her notebook at his feet. He reached for it, but she snatched it off the ground, closing it quickly and clasping it to her chest, hopefully before he saw the first page.

Because nothing says “I’m normal” like a list of questions regarding men’s grooming practices of their genitalia.

“Yes,” Sarah said, the word catching in her throat a bit.

Tony scowled down at her and nodded at her notebook. “You jotting down the directions before you forget them?”

Looks like this conversation is going to happen at the corner of Awkward and Embarrassing.
“Not exactly.” She cleared her throat. “My friend changed her mind about wanting me to visit.”

Those green eyes bored into hers. He drawled, “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

“You think?” Sarah snapped sarcastically, letting her nerves momentarily get the best of her.
Calm down. None of this is his fault.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

In the quiet that followed, Sarah tried telepathy.
See, this is where you could use an incredibly sexy bedroom voice to tell me not to worry since you have more than enough room for me. Lean in again, and I’ll know having me here will be torture for you because you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to keep your hands off me while I’m sleeping right down the hall.

His expression remained unreadable.

Screw telepathy.
Sarah snapped, “You could at least tell me that I’m welcome to stay here tonight.”

“I said that earlier,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. He opened the rear door of her SUV, pulled out her suitcases, and started walking to the house. When she didn’t follow, he stopped, half-turned, and gruffly said, “Come on.”

Sarah fought the urge to stomp her foot in frustration.
Oh yes, the fictitious you will be tormented with desire for me.
She sighed and followed him onto the porch. When he stopped at the door and held it open with his back, allowing her to pass through, she narrowed her eyes at him and imagined how the retelling of this night would go when she met with her friends back home.

Were you worried about staying at a stranger’s house your first night in Texas?

Surprisingly, no.

Not concerned that he might try to take advantage of you?

Sarah gurgled on a laugh as she followed him up the staircase and down a narrow hallway.
Are you kidding? I bet he locks his bedroom door tonight.

Tony turned and frowned as if her amusement annoyed him. He opened the door to a small guest bedroom and placed her luggage beside the white wrought-iron twin bed that boasted a surprisingly delicate flowered quilt atop it.

“You need anything?” he asked in a tone that implied he’d prefer if she didn’t.

If you only knew.

Or maybe you do and you’re not interested.

She blushed. “All set.” He was stepping out the door when she spontaneously said, “Tony . . .”

With a hand on the doorknob, he turned and raised one eyebrow in question.

Stay.

Nothing in his expression indicated that he would be the slightest bit tempted to, so instead she said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

Sarah tossed her notebook on the oak nightstand beside the bed and flopped onto a mattress that felt as cold and unwelcoming as the man who had led her to it.

Just because Texas wasn’t living up to her fantasy, the trip wasn’t a complete wash.
I didn’t come here to meet a man. Honestly, I didn’t really come to see Lucy, either. I came to find my story.

She rolled onto her stomach and reached for her notebook. Pen met paper with an enthusiasm she’d feared she’d never experience. First she recorded what she didn’t want to forget about the trip, then she tried to capture as much as possible of the story she’d been outlining in her head all day. Two hours later, she flipped back to the first page, reread everything she’d written and wrote her painful realizations at the end:
I’ll need more than my personal experience if this book is going to have sex scenes.

Is that really how it was? No wonder we broke up. Why did it take me this long to realize how bad it was?

Twenty-five and I’ve never orgasmed.

What is my problem?

Maybe I was born with a hyperactive imagination but subpar bits and pieces.

Looking around the room and feeling a bit guilty, Sarah stepped out of her shoes, pants, and underwear, then slid beneath the flowered quilt. She ran her hand down her stomach and over her short pubic hair.

Everyone does it.

Some even suggest it as a way to improve your sex life. If you know what pleases you, then you can guide your partner and all that crap.

She had to admit that it felt good to touch herself. She rubbed back and forth a few times, stopping occasionally when she was convinced she heard a sound at the door. She rubbed harder. She rubbed faster. She flipped onto her stomach and rubbed herself against her hand.

Ow, hand cramp. Great.
She gave up with a pathetic sigh of resignation and buried her face in her pillow in disgust.
Oh God, I have problems.

Rolling onto her side, she reached for her notebook again and wrote a sarcastic note in the margin:
First attempt at masturbation—fail. Change book title to “Ultimate Celibacy: When Even You Don’t Want You.”

She threw the notebook back onto the nightstand.
I thought we had a deal, Texas. You are seriously disappointing me.

Down the hall, clad only in cotton boxers, Tony lay on top of his blankets with his hands clasped behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.
I should have thrown her out the moment I met her. No one was as innocent as she pretended to be. The whole story about confusing my horse ranch with a cattle ranch sounded far-fetched from the beginning, but I wanted to believe it.

He should have told her to leave when he caught her with the damning evidence of her notebook. He’d spent too many years avoiding interviews and banning reporters from his property to change now just because she had a body a man wanted to bury himself in. He closed his eyes as if that would diminish how vividly he could remember her long, lean thighs and those deliciously high boots. Whoever she worked for had chosen poorly if they thought that a pair of perfectly shaped breasts and a tight ass would be enough to gain an exclusive interview.

So why is she still here?

The reason was standing erect and proud, straining beneath the thin cotton of his shorts. His cock didn’t care if his blonde angel was capable of deception. Was she sleeping? Was she lying there imagining, as he was, what would happen if he crossed the hall and knocked on her door?

I should let her believe she’s conned me and test exactly how far she’s willing to go to get her story. Hell, if she’s good enough, I might even give her a quote to take with her when I throw her cute little ass off my property tomorrow.

He rolled onto his side and punched the pillow before settling his head upon it. Even after seeing the notebook, there was a part of him that didn’t want to believe he’d been wrong about her. Those brown eyes were so deceptively open and trusting. The memory of them warmed his stomach in a way that confused him.

There’s a chance she’s not a reporter.

Why the hell else would she be taking notes by her car?

What was it about her that made him want to prove her innocence?

He didn’t like puzzles when it came to people. In fact, it had been a long time since he’d cared enough to question anyone’s motivation for anything. Over the last five years, he’d lost interest in most everything. There’d been a time when he’d found a thrill in unlocking the potential of a horse, but even that had waned.

Slowly dying.

Until today.

He slid a hand beneath the elastic of his shorts, took his pulsing cock into his hand and closed his eyes. His callused palm was a poor substitute for the hot, wet mouth he wanted around him. Not just any mouth—the one that had pouted at him when he’d told Sarah she couldn’t leave. He imagined her opening his door and finding him jacking off.

A slow smile would spread across her face. She would slowly strip and saunter to the side of his bed, naked and aroused. Tony kept an even pump going while he pictured how she would look. He’d seen enough of her in the shower to be able to picture her all too clearly in his mind. He knew how round and firm her breasts were and how delightfully dark her nipples looked against her otherwise white skin.

She’d boldly prowl onto the bed, placing each foot on either side of his torso, giving him the perfect view of her wet and eager pussy. One of her hands would cup a breast and circle her nipple until it was standing straight with arousal. Her other hand would caress her clit with slow rhythmic precision until she could no longer contain her moans. Then she’d slip her middle finger inside herself while continuing to rub the heel of her hand against her pink folds.

He jerked in his own hand and tore his boxers off, then relaxed onto his back as he pictured her throwing her head back, her long blonde mane loose and wild down her back, begging for him to bury his hands in it. She’d nibble that lush bottom lip of hers and shudder above him as she brought herself to orgasm. Her juices would run down her hand and she’d turn her hungry mouth to him. She’d swivel, sinking to her knees so her still-swollen folds were easily within his tongue’s reach, and she’d take him deeply into her mouth.

The taste of her and the sensation of her lips around him would almost be his undoing, but he’d hold out as long as he could. He’d savor her and tease her swollen nub with licks and gentle sucks until he felt her ready to come again. Only then would he climax in her mouth while she did in his.

Tony shuddered as he came in his own hand.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to find out what’s in that notebook before I throw her out.

Just to be fair ’n all.

Early in the morning, Tony’s subconscious turned on him as it had countless times before. He tensed, even in his sleep, preparing to meet an old adversary he’d never conquered.

Don’t do this to yourself. Wake up.

But he was already lost to it.

He was cantering a white mare bareback down a long dirt road. They covered the miles with no sound of hoofbeats to break up the oppressive silence. No breeze. Sweat beaded on Tony’s forehead. Torn between loving and hating the memory, all he could do was hold on. The violet-blue sky pressed down, as familiar to him as the decrepit ranch he was riding to.

As she always did, the mare headed for the crumbling farmhouse at the top of the hill. No amount of reining would turn the mare from her course. Try as he did, each time he took this ride he was incapable of leaping off. No, the horse always took him back to the one place he hated.

In a blink of an eye, he was standing in an old round pen with the mare. His father, as weathered and worn as his surroundings, leaned against the pen’s rusty outer metal railings. “You still wastin’ yer time with that nag? The meat man ain’t gonna care none if she’s muscled up.”

“You can’t sell her. She’s mine, Dad. You said I could have her.” His voice was a mixture of the child he’d been and the man he’d become.

“Don’t go gettin’ yourself attached, Tony. We need the money and that horse is goin’ at the next auction.” There was no cruel intention in his voice, just the cold sting of truth.

“You told me if I got her to stop bucking I could keep her. She’s as gentle as they come now.”