Hot Coco (8 page)

She tenderly raked her fingers through his hair, down his neck, and across his square jaw. She pressed her mouth against his and let her tongue caress his lips before she pulled away.

After all the calamities, he wanted to tell her he was too tired, that he was a coward and wary to even go inside the house with her; but before he could muster the words, she took him by the hand and guided him through the door. She had a “do things to me” look in her eyes. He was rendered helpless.

She led him through his small kitchen with oak cabinetry, a bistro-style table and chairs beneath an arched window that looked out over the white barns with blue tin roofs and white fences. “Cute kitchen, it makes me want to bake cookies.” When he pitched a warning look, she giggled. “Teasing—I’m teasing.”

She found his living room with the stone fireplace. A s
imple décor for the gorgeous, gentlemanly cowboy.
She pulled him down onto the sofa.

Mike was beyond helping himself. The way she tugged at his shirt with the look in those blue eyes, and the passion in her kisses on his mouth and neck while she unzipped his Levis had him forgetting how tired he was, his trashed trailer, the burnt kitchen, and her flipping/flopping horses. It was time to sit-back, relax, and let the “trainer with benefits” package finally kick-in.
It’s about damned time.

His strong hands gently smoothed down her neck, and over her shoulders and luscious firm breasts. He looked into her enticing eyes while he slipped the dress from her shoulders to expose the sexy black satin and lace bra. Her hand slipped inside his jeans to stroke the hard length of him.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Their heads jerked toward the kitchen. Someone was knocking on the screen door.

Seriously?

“Michael, are you in there? Hello ...” Ava’s voice carried through the house.

Mike’s head dropped to his chest.
What the hell is she doing here?
boomed through his brain
.

Hastily
,
Coco pulled her dress back into position. “Who is that?”

It didn’t matter. Ava stepped through the threshold of the kitchen, and was now standing in the living room.

Pulling his jeans together, he could see in Coco’s eyes that something was amiss. He was afraid to look, but he had to. Slowly, he turned toward Ava.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t know you had company.” Looking like red-hot desire, Ava was dressed in the exact same little, black have-your-way-with-me-now dress that Coco was wearing. There she stood with her auburn hair draped over her shoulders. He felt like he was about to star in a very bad porn flick.

That wasn’t happening—not in this life anyway. He knew Ava.

“What’s going on, Ava?” Suspicion filled his tone and his narrowed eyes.

Coco whispered in his ear, “Should I go?”

“No,” he replied embarrassingly fast. He wasn’t letting his “trainer with benefits” get lost in the shuffle—not this time. He jumped up and, as gently as an aroused man can, he took Ava by the arm.

“Coco,” he called over his shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

He ushered Ava through the kitchen directly to the patio behind the house. Once he felt they were safely out of ear-shot, he whipped the stunning red-head around to face him.

She was wearing her sultry green bedroom eyes—the one’s he could never resist—the one’s she used to get exactly what she wanted from him. He felt himself waning. He wanted to pull her close and press his lips over hers. Shit, he wanted to put his lips everywhere. She still owned a corner of his soul. He was feeling pissed at himself for it.
Not today. I’ve forgiven and forgotten. Forgave my stupidity. Forgot her existence.
Remember?
Still, there she was looking hot in that little take-me-now-I’m-yours dress.
Damn to hell.

“What are you doing here, Ava?” he demanded in a low and deliberate tone.

Her eyes and her voice were filled with the sweet innocence of a kitten. “I heard you had a bad day. I came to cheer you up.” She purred while feathering her fingers through his open shirt and across his chest. “I didn’t realize you had company. Someone new?” Using her master manipulation skills, her index finger traced the buttons on his shirt down to his jeans while poking it through a button hole to circle his navel. It was gentle, sensual, and driving.

The muscles in his abs contracted and his spine tensed at the caressing tease of her fingernail.

Ava knew she would get this kind of a response. Her touch always made him liquefy. She could see the melt-down well underway.
Game over. I own him
.
I can have him here and now on the patio while Miss Rich Blonde Bombshell’s waiting for him in the living room.
Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. Sex with Michael was great. It was the one thing about their marriage she relished, maybe even missed.
When this man takes his clothes off he’s a study in hot-damn-amazing. When things get hot, he’s as hot as they get—blazing.
But she had to keep it at a distance, or the control she wielded could possibly wilt.

Mike was waning, damn it, the way he always did when she touched him that way.
Pull it together. Today? Ava came to cheer me up today?
“What about your boyfriend? Lugowski?” he asked while trying to reconcile with his senses.

She took in a long, deep breath, and then released it with a long, sultry sigh. She swept a stray auburn strand from her cheek. Her emerald gaze dragged to meet his. Shrugging her tasty little shoulder, she licked her lips.

Ahhh, that’s what I thought.
He smelled a covert operation in the worst sort of way—Ava’s way. Not today. He was completely reconciled with his forgive-forget strategy
.

Without further ado,
he grabbed her hand before it went any further; before it went any further south; before he let her do what she was so good at doing—getting her way with him. His voice was hoarse and quiet and edging on remorse, but his eyes held steadfast on hers.

“You better be on your way, Ava. Thanks for dropping by.”

Coco had no clue who the pretty redhead was, but it didn’t go unnoticed that her abrupt appearance rattled Mike. He assured her it wasn’t a problem. She had her doubts. Sighing, she busied herself with a look around the sparsely decorated room. The spiral stairs that led to an open loft summoned her interest. She slowly climbed the charming twirly stairs. When she reached the loft, she peered over the railing to the openness of the living room below. Splashed with dark hues of orange, black, and a subtle stroke of azure; two long Indian throw-rugs filled the loft’s oak floor.

Nice touch, cowboy.

She wandered into the first door on the left. The room smelled of a man’s musky outdoorsman cologne. The walls were painted with a soft gray. Her attention was drawn to the king-size bed that had a fluffy gray comforter with a dark charcoal stripe spread over it. Large charcoal Euro pillows with the dark black swirls were tossed near the headboard. The picture that hung over the bed drew her near. It was an impressively framed and matted photograph of the great Secretariat crossing the finish line at the 1973 Kentucky Derby. It was signed by Big Red’s jockey, Ron Turcotte.

Jackpot! This is the cowboy’s bedroom.

She made her way to a dresser near the window. There was a bottle of Old Spice, a penknife, and several racing programs piled off to one side. She was now certain that this room was Mike’s
.
With that, her lips curled.

She tossed several pillows to the floor and pulled the comforter down.
The sexy redhead will be out of luck. Too bad.

She slipped the little black dress from her shoulders and let it flutter from her body to the floor. The black satin bra and lacey black g-string soon landed on top of the dress. She was looking forward to running her fingers over his firm chest. She tried to imagine how the cowboy, engorged, would look standing naked before her with a “come on” look in his eyes.
Oh yes, the cowboy scenario is working just fine.
She searched the room in hopes of finding a cowboy hat. A Stetson would be the icing on her carnal cowboy cake.

The front door opened. Shane poked his head inside the cottage. “Mike, yo, Mike. You in here?”

The lights were on, so he crossed the living room to check the kitchen.
Not there.
He went back through the living room. He heard a rustling in the bedroom upstairs. Shane trotted up the stairs and opened Mike’s bedroom door.

He took in a breath and was unable to release it. Filled with a wondrous sight, his eyes widened.

There she was, Coco ... completely, incredibly, naked.

She was extraordinary. Her full firm breasts hung high. Her nipples were a dusty rose, and her long blonde locks swept across her beautiful defined shoulders. Her tiny rib cage gently eased down to her shapelyhips. She was slickly waxed, Brazilian, and she had a tiny tattoo next to her ...

Lord have mercy.

Grabbing the comforter to strap it around her nakedness, Coco screamed.

Shane jumped back. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” His voice was high-pitched while he backed out of the room with his right arm extended out in case she would decide to hurl the lamp. “I ... I was looking for Mike ...”

The door slammed in his face.

He gulped in a breath while savoring the incredible image. Then he turned to bump face-to-face with big brother.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I was looking for you. I thought you were in her, I mean there. She was freaking naked.”

Mike’s eyes were like lasers burning through Shane’s face,
“Naked?”
he spluttered.

“Oh, yeah,” Shane breathed. “
Naked
.”

The bedroom door whipped open with a gust causing them to flinch.

Coco’s dress was askew. Hopping on one foot while fumbling into her heels, she glared into Shane’s eyes. “I’m not into weird stuff,” she announced. “I’m going home, Mike. Maybe that redhead is a little more adventurous.”

“There was a redhead too?” Shane was most impressed with his brother’s evening.

“
Ava
…” Mike growled.

“Ouch.” Shane cringed.

“Coco wait—” Mike said.

“No, Mike, it just doesn’t feel right … good night.”

Coco grasped the railing and paddled down the stairs. After stumbling, she managed to regain her balance and finally reached the bottom. While tugging at her dress, she made haste for the door and slammed it behind her.

From over the railing up in the loft, the West brothers watched her harried retreat.

After the reverberation from the slam of the door quieted, Shane turned to his older brother. The memory of her was fresh in his mind. “She was
totally
unbelievable, dude.” He was still in awe of her sumptuous body.

“Shut up.”

Eight

They weren’t totally convinced. Eric and Punch stood with their arms crossed over their chests while listening to Mike make his case.

He patted Charlatan, also known as “Flipper”, while he explained, “I’ve discovered what makes this guy tick.” When Mike tugged open a package of peppermints, Charlatan’s eyes grew big, his nostrils flared, and he snorted impatiently. “Peppermints.”

Eric and Punch exchanged befuddled glances.

The left side of Eric’s lip tucked. His brow raised. “Did you take him to the track?”

“That’s today’s chore. He stands perfectly to be saddled. No more flipping thanks to these peppermints.” He held up the bag: Exhibit A.

Charlatan stomped his feet with irritation. Mike flipped him a mint. The gelding caught it in mid-air and retreated back into his stall while sucking on it like a spoiled child with a lollipop.

Eric’s mouth opened slightly at the sight of the contented gelding.

“So all we have to do is feed him the peppermints while he’s being saddled, and he won’t flip?” Punch wanted to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

“That’s how it looks to me,” Mike said.

“What about the other one?” Eric asked with a stiff tone. Exhibit B.

“Do you mean Flopper?” The confidence in his voice disappeared.

What does one do with a horse that sits down, and just plain refuses to race?
Mike was totally perplexed by the predicament His father’s staunch stare felt heavy. “I’m still working on that one. Look, I’ll take Charlatan to the track for a test drive, and then I’m gonna enter him this weekend.”

“Speaking of the track,” Eric said, “I need to talk to you about Mar–”

“Dad, have you heard from Tom Mason lately?” Shane interrupted them. “I can’t raise him on his cell.”

“No, keep trying. We want to get that horse of his on a program ASAP,” he said before turning back to Mike. “I had an interesting conversation with Doug—”

“Oh, by the way, Coco’s here. She’s outside looking at Kate’s new car,” Shane said.

Mike wilted against the wall. “I really don’t have time for her this morning—not if I want to get this gelding to the track.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Eric said.

“Thanks, Dad. I’m going out the back.” He whipped Charlatan from the stall and started toward the door at the far side of the barn. He hesitated. “Did you want to talk to me about something?” he called back to his father.

“See me as soon as you get back.”

Coco circled the radiant red convertible Mustang. She ran her fingers over the shining chrome and peered in at the black leather seats. “Oh, it’s beautiful, Kate.”

“Thanks. It was worth all the extra hours I’ve been putting in at the track.”

Coco was baffled. “Your father didn’t buy this?”

“I’m a big girl. I can buy my own car, thank you.”

“Mmmm.” She noticed the classic silver galloping Mustang hood ornament. “I didn’t know they had these anymore.”