Hard Drivin Man (2 page)

“Is Lupe not here this morning?” she called to him. His housekeeper lived on the ranch and her presence was almost a cornerstone of the Rocking H for the past forty years. Without HARD DRIVIN’

her around, Jess felt suddenly vulnerable. Being alone with Trey was a concept she had only dreamt of but never imagined could come true.

“She had to go into Midland,” Trey called from the kitchen. “I told her to take the day off.”

“Ah, good.” But it wasn’t. Her tension blossomed like some ugly flower that reached out and stung her resolve. She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on the cool leather couch. The sounds of him pouring coffee made her twitch. Before she could lasso her thoughts, he was back, standing in front of her again and holding out a cup and a napkin.

“I know how you like napkins,” he said matter-of–factly.

But he also knew—or remembered—how she liked cream. “Thank you.” She took it from him and sipped. The brew was hot and strong. Something to devote herself to for a few seconds as she worked up her nerve.

He had settled himself in the big matching leather chair opposite her. With his long legs stretched out, his sable brown snakeskin boots peeking out from under his form-fitting jeans, and his starched white shirt and fist-sized silver belt buckle, he was the picture of a successful Texas rancher. A successful rich Texas rancher home from the wars. Decorated for bravery. Eligible. Wanted by every girl this side of the Pecos—and maybe the other side as well. And Jess had a favour to ask of him.

“What’s on your mind, Jess?” he asked in a baritone that soothed every cell in her body and softened her to flimsy tissue paper.

“I need your help.”

He lifted his shoulders, a languid action that spoke of his charm and their years of being family. “Anything I can do for you, I’m ready.”

His words caressed her sore heart like no man had in decades. His tone, soft as sand, filed down any remaining fears so that she could meet his gaze.

“I’ve culled my cattle. All my calves.”

“Aunt Marie told me you put them up for auction. Tom Wagner told me, too, because he’s worried about your ranch surviving.” Trey put his coffee cup down on the table beside him. “This drought is awful. Not this bad since the fifties. You did the right thing.”

“But I’ve still got my bulls. I can’t sell them. You know I can’t.”

“I do.” He nodded slowly. “You’ve done a helluva job, babe. You have built up that strain of cattle until you’ve got the corner on artificial insemination.”

“If I have to sell my bulls, I lose everything. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

His features took on a serious mien. “And?”

“I want you to let me drive my herd over here and water on your land. At your creeks.”

His eyes went from wide with shock to narrow with thought. He lifted one hand and ran his index finger over his bottom lip.

The way he stroked it had her focusing on her fantasies of how he would kiss her. On the mouth. On her pussy. She bit her lower lip and sat forward. “I’ll pay you. Name the price per head. I have the money from the auction at Tom’s three weeks ago.”

“If you don’t have my help, you’ll lose your family ranch,” he supplied like he was the one who had inherited her father’s and grandfather’s thirty-thousand acres.

She put her cup down and kneaded her fingers together. “We’ve had it since nineteen–

hundred–and–two and I can’t let this drought destroy it. Or me.” That last, she was shocked she had added, but now that the words were out, she just kept going. “I need this, Trey. This ranch is all I have left of my life. With my folks gone and Clint, too, and no children to work for or love…”
Oh, God, had she said that?
“I need this for myself, Trey. My wells are gone dry.

My creeks, too. My land looks like the Sahara.”

“How many head do you have?”

“Two hundred.”

He lifted a brow, impressed. “That many. You are doing well.”

“Not that well. I’ve never been in such a fix. I know we’ve had dry spells before, but this one is wicked. I ran out of grazing land last fall. Rains finally came in October and November which meant I could survive through the winter. But now, not a drop of rain since March and I need help. I need you.”

His long lashes fluttered. His lips firmed. And just as he opened his mouth and she thought he was going to give her what she wanted, he got to his feet and walked towards the huge picture window to look out over his pastures.

I need you.
His eyes fell closed.
I need you.
Precisely the words he’d vowed to pay heaven and hell to get from Jessica Spencer Hardwick’s lush lips. Not precisely the reason for them today, but he could live with that. Work with that. He’d been wracking his brain trying to find a way to get her alone and talk to her while he was home here on leave. He had only one more week left to have his say. One more week before he had to let his commanding HARD DRIVIN’ MAN

officer know of his decision to reenlist. One more week to tell her how he cared before he got too old and regretted his failure to pursue her. Here was his chance to take her away and declare to her what he wanted for half his lifetime.

All those nights freezing in the mountains north of Kandahar. All those days frying in the sun south of Bagdad. All the years he’d envied his brother Clint for being old enough, wise enough, to marry sassy, sexy, funny Jess.

Trey had tried to find a woman who matched her. The startling lime green eyes. The strawberry blonde curls. The lithe little body that moved like water.

Damn.
He ran a hand through his hair and muttered about being between a rock and a painfully hard cock. Since he discovered he wanted her at the old age of fourteen, how many women had he tried to care for? Since he was old enough to vote, for pity sakes, how many women had he slept with and wished they were her? Too many to count. Senior year in high school. Up at Texas Tech. At so many of his duty posts State-side over the ten years he’d been enlisted. Try as he did, no one compared to the lovely, laughing memory of her down by the creek with him every Saturday morning. Or the vision of her standing in his kitchen with his brother Clint as they told his mother and father they were getting married. Soon. No, she hadn’t been pregnant, but they wanted each other. Badly. So they were bent on getting married right after they graduated high school. Her folks and his father had not approved, but Clint was determined to get her before any other guy did. The plan to marry had sounded good to both of them. But the best made plans can get a hitch in them, can’t they?

“Trey?”

He inhaled. Hooked his hands in his belt loops and shook his head. What he wanted he meant to have. He’d suffered too much, fought too long for his country, seen too many of his buddies die without getting what they yearned for not to take the bull by the horns now. So he swung around and faced her.

Damn, what a sweet piece she was. No teased hair. No lipstick or eyeliner. No push-up bra. He harrumphed. Like she needed anything to look like the tastiest dish he’d ever wanted to eat up. Devour. Slowly.

“Trey?” She took a step forward, fear dimming her big beautiful eyes. “Please tell me if you’ll do this.”

“Oh, you bet I will, Jess.”

smile she began with spread into a joyous grin. She clasped her hands. “Oh, Trey!

Thank you! I—”

“But I need something in return.”

“Fair enough. I told you I’d pay. So name your price! I earned so much from my auction that I’m—”

“I don’t want your money.”

She tilted her head. “No? But Trey, I
can
pay for this. I’ve not only dug my ranch out of debt these past three years but I have savings. If I can get through this drought, I can build up this insemination business into a huge success.”

“I know you’ve done well.” He forced himself to stand there, look stern and not move a muscle. All the better to appear impervious. And win here.

“So then—!” She spread her arms wide. “Why not let me pay you?”

“No.”

“But—”

“I want something else from you.”

Her hands fell to slap against her shapely thighs. “Name it.”

Oh, Christ, what if she refuses?
“Two days and nights with you.”

Her lush lashes fluttered and her mouth worked at words. “Say that again.”

Steady, boy, let her come to you.
“You heard me.”

Her brows knit. “To do what?”

He let his eyes narrow with a hot hint of what he intended. “To show you some fun.

Make sure you laugh again, the way you used to, throwing your head back and shaking out your hair to flow down your back.”

“You remember that?” She was stunned. And when he nodded, she said, “Trey. Even
I
don’t remember that!”

He let his gaze travel slowly down her body and take its time sashaying back up. “I see that.”

His sexual intention hit her so hard she jerked backward. “You’re kidding.” She tried for a smile. But couldn’t make it go beyond nervous.

Was she interested or appalled? He couldn’t tell. Couldn’t back down now. “Never more serious in my life.”

She looked him over. From his lips to his chest and arms, to his hips and his crotch, her eyes grew wider the farther they went. But when her tongue came out to glide over her lower lip, damn, he almost grabbed her then to kiss her silly. He wanted that mouth. Those eyes.

Those hands. Those pointed little breasts. And those long legs draped around his shoulders.

With him deep inside her. And he could see now that she was tempted to have him. Big time.

“Why?” she asked on a whisper.

He took one step closer. “Because I’ve wanted you for years.”

She flinched. “You have?”

Hearing wonder in her voice, he fisted his hands to keep from hauling her against him and stripping her down right there in his living room. But he soothed his soul, knowing he’d soon enjoy her, naked and panting for him. He took a step forward. “I have imagined how I’d have you. In a tent. In the desert. In the mountains. In a cabin. In a hotel, any five-star affair, in the biggest, softest bed I can find.”

She made tiny noises of shock and delight. Speechless, she stared at him.

He grinned, his gaze travelling her body a second time and noting he made her nipples harden under her plaid shirt. “I want a big hot piece of you, Jess. Always have.” His gaze seized hers. “I promised myself three years ago after Clint was gone that one day I’d have you—if I could catch you before some other man married you.”

She inhaled fast, anger spewing out of her. “I don’t want another husband.”

“I think I know why. And I want—”

“Right.” Her mouth went rigid. “You want to scratch an itch.” She stalked him and he didn’t move as she thrust two fingers into his sternum and glared up at him. “Well, I’m not available.”

He caught her wrist. “From what I saw the other night at my party, honey, you are very available.” He inched closer, one arm circling her waist, pressing her to him, thighs and belly to his growing erection. “Jedd Dayton wanted to dance. You refused him. Kyle Masters wanted to talk. You looked bored.”

She rubbed against him, as much a sign of displeasure with his words as a real attempt to get away from him. “I’m not interested in either one.”

“But you took your time being interested in how Betsy Morgan talked to me.”

Her mouth dropped open.

He wrapped his other arm around her and splayed his hands on her back. The toned muscles in her body made him want to find and trace each one. “I saw you. That’s why you left early.” He nestled his shaft against the planes of her belly. “Don’t deny it.”

Defiant, she raised her chin. “Momentary snit.”

He snorted. “Really? How’s that?”

“I’m lonely. I admit it, okay? I saw her…flirting with you and it took me back a few years. I envied her. I may be thirty-eight. But I am not dead yet.”

He cuddled her closer. Damn, he didn’t think it was possible to get any nearer without fucking her. “Oh, believe me, I know you aren’t dead, honey. And I want to make you more alive.”

“You can’t.”

He ground against her and the force of his loins on hers had her lifting her shoulders and squeezing her thighs together. Good sign that her pussy was getting wet for him. “Want to bet I’m making you feel good right now?”

She winced, looking tormented, poor baby. “I’ve always thought of you as the youngest brother.”

“Not when you and I were kids and we used to meet for picnics down by the creek on Saturday mornings.”

She smiled sadly. “Still like peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches?”

“I haven’t eaten one since the last time you and I ate together when I was eighteen and you were twenty-five.”

She got tears in her eyes then and he wanted to kiss them away. Make her happy all the time. “I know you haven’t thought of me as the younger brother since Clint died. Not when I saw you at Dad’s funeral last year, either, and you let me hold you.” He grabbed her chin and lifted her face higher, closer to his lips. “Tell me,” he rasped, “that’s a lie.”

She swallowed, hard. “No,” she breathed. “That’s the truth.” She shook her head, looked straight up at the ceiling. “But it’s not possible. We shouldn’t do this. We’re in-laws.”