One Fine Cowboy (9 page)

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then moved down to touch her jawbone, her throat, the blade of her collarbone. His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her breast, his touch warm through the thin cotton of her bra. The touch seemed to ignite the slow flame between her legs, and as he stroked her with new urgency she felt herself ignite and explode. The room was gone, the bunkhouse, the ranch, the past, the present. The sensation of his touch was all that mattered, all that existed as her world fell apart and spun away into space.

As the hum in her blood subsided, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She was limp in his arms, her head pressed against his chest as she waited for the aftershocks to subside. She expected to feel loss, shame, maybe horror, but what filled her mind when she looked at him was something like triumph. In giving herself away, she’d somehow tapped into her own power. She’d given herself to him, let him into the most private part of herself. She should have felt diminished, but for some strange reason, she’d never felt stronger.

He closed his eyes and kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around him and flipped them over so she was sitting on her knees, straddling him. Somehow her jeans had wound up crumpled at the bottom of the bed, and God knew where her panties had gone.

“Not fair,” she said, tugging at his belt. “Too many clothes.”

***

Nate grabbed Charlie’s hands, stopping her determined assault on his belt buckle. “I told you,” he said. “I don’t have anything.”

She grinned, rubbing the heel of her hand up the bulge behind his fly. He closed his eyes and gasped. He’d never been the kind of guy who carried a condom everywhere just in case an opportunity came up. He’d never wanted to be that kind of guy.

Until now. He’d give anything to be that kind of guy now.

“Oh, you have something, all right,” Charlie said. She flipped his belt away and went to work on his button fly, the touch of her fingers making him ache and throb with need.

He took a deep, shaky breath. “No. We can’t. I don’t…”

“Shh.” She scrambled off him and lunged for her purse on the nightstand. “Hold on.” She unzipped one of the compartments and held up a small square package.

Evidently, Charlie was that kind of girl.

He shook his head. No, she wasn’t. He hadn’t known her for long, but somehow, despite the fact she sparked desire in him with every casual wave of her hand, he knew she was no floozy. He’d seen her face when she let herself go and lost herself to his touch, and he’d seen the stunned amazement on her face when she opened her eyes afterward.

This wasn’t business as usual for Charlie. What was happening between them meant something to her.

The touch of her hand turned off his thoughts as if she’d thrown a switch. She was on top of him again, tugging his clothes away, taking him in her hand and meeting his eyes as she tore the package open with her teeth and sheathed him with trembling fingers that sent lightning shocks flickering through his veins.

“Now.” She straddled him again and rubbed herself against him, once, twice, and then he was inside her, feeling her warmth all around him, watching her close her eyes and throw her head back as she flexed her thighs and moved in slow circles above him.

Reaching up, he lifted her shirt and cupped her breasts, her perfect breasts, small and pert, peaking under his touch. He wanted this to last forever. He wanted to explore every inch of her, to know her like his own body—but his body wanted release. They moved together and he felt like a river, like a smooth-flowing stream of sensation running around her and through her as the pace increased and they both started to breathe in harsh, urgent gasps.

She tensed around him and he clenched his jaw, trying to hold back, trying to wait, but something inside him broke and a surge of pure sensation overwhelmed him. He was hers, all hers, she was everything, he couldn’t stop himself.

He was gone.

He let go and felt them flow together into one being, one flame, one flower exploding into bloom.

***

Charlie collapsed, letting her body cover Nate’s, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes, feeling nothing but the warmth of him and the pulse of his heartbeat against her chest. The world was perfect.

Perfect.

She lay there a minute or two before her life gradually swirled back into focus. What had she done?

The world wasn’t perfect. It was gravely flawed—because she had to get up now and finish cleaning the bunkhouse. And then she had to go out there and face Doris. And then she had to learn everything she could about communicating with horses so she could go back to Jersey and put it in a research paper.

In New Jersey.

Not in Wyoming.

She shifted and peered up at Nate. He’d fallen asleep, his face serene, his mouth slightly open. She felt a stab of tenderness and turned away.

She couldn’t afford to fall for this man. She was leaving, no matter what happened between them, and she didn’t want to take any baggage with her when she left. She wanted to go home free and unencumbered, with nothing but happy memories of her stay on Latigo Ranch.

No regrets. No broken hearts.

She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a long, shuddering sigh, then grabbed for her panties, pulling them on and fumbling with the ribbon he’d undone. Her fingers were shaking and she kept her eyes carefully averted until Nate reached over and flicked the ribbon with one finger. She flinched and turned around. His eyes were open, but just barely, and a lazy grin crossed his face.

“Hey,” he said. “Leave those off.”

“No.” She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “We’re done here. Sorry.”

“We’re done?”

She nodded. “Sorry.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

“It’s just that I have to go home.”

“Now?”

“Eventually.”

“Well, that’s okay. You’re here now, right?” He flicked the ribbon again and ran the back of his hand up the side of her thigh, sending a shimmer of heat straight to her center. “Come here. Lie down with me a minute. Let’s talk.”

“No.” She reached down and grabbed his jeans, then tossed them hard against his chest. “There’s nothing to talk about. Come on. Get dressed.”

“Okay.” He stepped into the jeans and stood up, fastening his belt, then sat down again. She turned away from him and tugged her own jeans up over her hips, then slipped into her T-shirt.

“Charlie,” he said. “Wait. Sit down a minute. I…”

They both spun as the door creaked open and Doris’s face appeared in the opening.

“Hey, are you—oh. Damn. Sorry.”

Nate caught a quick glimpse of the woman’s grinning face as she ducked back outside.

“Oops,” Nate said. He couldn’t help grinning. He still hadn’t put his shirt on, so Doris had probably figured out what was going on. It was embarrassing, but somehow, he knew the old cowgirl would understand.

“It’s okay,” he said to Charlie.

“No, it’s not.” Her voice was shaky as she smoothed her shirt. “It’s not okay. I lost it, all right? You’re very—attractive. Very—I don’t know, persuasive or something.” She raked her fingers though her hair again. “It was just a once and done thing, okay? Forget about it.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Not likely.” His voice had lost its light tone. He sounded stubborn. Determined.

Charlie turned away and started fooling with one of the pots of flowers she’d set around the bunkhouse. “I’ll finish up here,” she said, hunching her shoulders. “You’d better go.”

Nate shut the barn door behind him and leaned against Junior’s stall, wiping his forehead. Something about Charlie had his hormones amped up into the red zone. He couldn’t believe he’d actually asked her to show him what she was wearing. To show him her—dang, he couldn’t even say the word to himself, but he’d said it right out loud to her.
Your panties.

And she’d said yes. To everything. Said yes, and yes again, showed him just how miraculously
right
they were together, and then shut down the minute it was over as if she regretted what she’d done.

She seemed angry. He needed to fix things between them—but how? He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. Maybe she felt used. Maybe he should have taken it slower.

What had she said? He was too persuasive. He’d have to watch that.

But he wouldn’t say he was sorry, that was for sure. He knew better than that. Apologies always revved Sandi up into a rage. Just saying he was sorry was bound to get him in trouble, and he wasn’t going to blow it with this girl like he had with Sandi. He might be a little slow on the uptake when it came to women, but he’d learned a few things.
Don’t tell me—show me,
Sandi always said.
Words are easy.

He didn’t exactly agree with that, but he knew what she meant. Words were easy for
her
.

What worked for Sandi was jewelry, or a new pair of shoes. Sometimes she went for flowers if his offense wasn’t too bad, but they had to be real flowers, like roses.
Bought
flowers. He’d tried gathering wildflowers for her one time, and that hadn’t gone over well at all.

And this last time, nothing had worked. All Sandi had wanted was out.

He wondered what he should do for Charlie. Obviously, she was perfectly capable of gathering her own flowers. And it would hardly be appropriate to buy her jewelry.

So what would be appropriate? Shoes?

No—
boots
. He could get her some cowboy boots—real ones, to replace those ridiculous high-fashion wannabe boots she’d brought from Jersey. Boots would be perfect. Not only were they practical, but they’d show he wanted her to stay. Sure, boots were pretty expensive, even plain ones without a lot of tooling, but—

But nothing. He almost groaned aloud. He couldn’t buy Charlie boots. He couldn’t buy her anything. He was broke.

He froze. Broke.

He didn’t have any money at all. Sandi had cleaned him out.

Presents for Charlie were the least of his problems. He couldn’t even take her and Doris to the mustang auction. He’d need money to buy the horses.

His stomach balled itself up and clenched tight as a fist. What the hell was he going to do?

Breathe,
he told himself.
Breathe. Don’t panic. Slow down and think.
It was the same ritual he used when a horse acted up—only now he was trying to tame his own crazy life, and it was tougher than any screwed-up stallion he’d ever faced.

The door opened and Doris strode into the barn.

“There you are,” she said. “Thought I’d spooked you, you took off so fast. What were you two up to in there?” She gestured toward the bunkhouse.

“Nothing.” He could feel a blush heating his face. Doris noticed.

It seemed like Doris noticed everything.

“Why, you’re blushing! You blush just as easy as Charlie,” she said, a wicked glint in her eye.

“Charlie blushes?”

“Sure.” Doris winked. “Mostly when we talk about you.”

Nate looked away, squinting toward the horizon. “That’s not blushing,” he said. “She’s just mad. I can’t do a thing right where she’s concerned.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Doris said. “I think you were doing something right back there in the bunkhouse.”

Nate shook his head. It had sure felt right. But judging from Charlie’s response, what they’d done was wrong in her eyes.

He’d moved too fast. Spooked her.

“Can you show me that stallion now?” Doris bounced on the balls of her feet like an eager ten-year-old.

“Sure.” Nate thought he might show her some other horses too. Maybe he could sell her on the notion of using one of his horses instead of a mustang. Kind of lead her into it, make her think it was her own idea. She had the walk of a real horsewoman, and a calm vibe about her that most likely served her well with animals. He could probably trust her with his horses. In fact, he had a feeling he’d have to be on his toes to teach her anything.

“Charlie says you can tame that stallion down ’til he’s sweet as a baby,” Doris said. “I can’t wait to see that.”

It wouldn’t be hard to distract Charlie from the mustang idea. All he’d have to do was let her work with Junior—but that was impossible. He’d pretty much staked the ranch on that horse, and he wasn’t about to let a greenhorn handle him, no matter how much he needed said greenhorn’s help. No, he’d have to hope he could steer Charlie toward one of the other horses. She’d probably like Boy, the handsome black gelding he was finishing for a rancher up in Story, but he couldn’t let a student handle a client’s horse either.

Maybe she’d like Razz. Yeah, that would do it. The flashy paint was saddle-broke and fully trained, but he had a few spunky mannerisms that might convince Charlie she was working with a genuine wild pony. He was a handsome devil too.

Yeah, she was bound to fall for Razz. He’d just tell her the horse was a mustang. He wasn’t much for lying, but sometimes you had to. Sometimes you didn’t have a choice.

***

A half hour later, Doris clomped up the steps to the bunkhouse and surveyed the accommodations, hands on hips.

“Not bad.”

Charlie started. She’d been staring out the window, lost in thought.

“Now that you’ve got our digs all fixed up, I think I’ll get myself a little shut-eye, if that’s okay with you,” Doris said. “I generally nap in the afternoons.” She cocked a thumb over her shoulder toward the house. “Your boyfriend’s in there dithering over supper. You know he was going to feed us TV dinners? I set him straight, though. With what he’s charging, the food oughta be better than that.”

“That’s all he knows how to cook,” Charlie said.

“I know. That’s why I told him it just wouldn’t do,” Doris said. “He’s a mess. Needs you to rescue him.” She grinned. “What’s the girl equivalent of a knight in shining armor?”

“A fairy-tale princess, I guess.” Charlie looked down at her clothes. She’d changed out of her jeans and T-shirt—they were dusty and dirty from cleaning the bunkhouse, and besides, those panties had to go—but she was still dressed like a farmhand. “I’m not sure that’s me.”

“I don’t know—I think you’re a damn good kick-ass princess.” Doris punched a fist in the air in a girl-power salute. “Go save his butt like a good princess should.”

“A kick-ass princess,” Charlie said. “I like that.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Doris said, patting her shoulder. “It might take him a while, but he’ll get it.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re the girl for him.” Doris grinned. “You should have seen him blush when I talked about you.”

“He should blush,” Charlie said. “He’s done nothing but screw up since I got here.” She felt her own face heating. That wasn’t quite true. Nate had done something right back there in the bunkhouse.

Something very, very right. She shoved the memory out of her mind.

“He likes you,” Doris said. “I can tell.”

Uh-oh. Doris obviously had the matchmaking bug. Charlie had a sudden flashback to seventh grade, when an overzealous girlfriend had tried to fix her up with half the football team just because she’d made a comment about how hot they looked in their pads. Charlie didn’t like football players any better than she liked cowboys. She meant they looked warm. Overheated.

Kind of like her libido ever since she’d hit Latigo Ranch. She flushed, remembering what had happened with Nate. It would be easy to blame him for the incident if she hadn’t grabbed for that condom like it was the holy grail or something. What had she been thinking? He was a cowboy. A stupid cowboy.

And she was leaving.

“You don’t have to play matchmaker, Doris. I appreciate it, but Nate’s not my type.”

Doris smiled and shook her head.

“Really,” Charlie protested. “I don’t like cowboys. I’m no buckle bunny, you know.”

“And Nate’s no rodeo rider,” Doris retorted. “I saw how he handled the horses. He’s very good at what he does.” She tipped Charlie a sideways smile. “He’s got a nice, gentle way with him.”

Charlie thought of Nate’s hand stroking her hair, touching her skin. The tenderness of his touch had sent a tingling thrill through her body, but the way he’d looked at her afterwards had sparked an amber caution light in her subconscious. He thought he knew her now. He thought he’d seen through all her defenses, when really all he’d seen was her panties.

Well, not really. They’d gone way beyond the lingerie fashion show he’d requested. But what kind of guy wanted to look at a girl’s panties, anyway?

And besides, there was that locked attic. Who knew what was up there? Until she found out, she needed to stay away from the guy. For all she knew, he was a serial killer and it was full of severed body parts from his many victims.

Or panties.

Yeah, right. More likely, he kept the rest of his plastic horse collection up there and played Barbie Horse Show when no one was around.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, with a toss of her hair. “I’m going back to Jersey, soon as I get what I came for.”

As she said it, she knew that was what she needed to focus on. Get in, get the information she needed, and get out. She was on a mission, with a clearly defined goal: observe and report.

She’d deliver that paper and hopefully steer Sadie toward letting her do more research comparing animal and human behavior. Then she’d do her practicum, and after that, who knew? She’d find some kind of meaningful work—something with kids, maybe. Or, better yet, with animals.

Maybe both.

Long-term, she didn’t really know where she was headed. But she did know one thing: there was no man in the picture. Certainly no cowboy.

“We’ll see.” Doris kicked her shoes off and plumped up a pillow. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to get what you came for, Charlie Banks. I’m just not sure you realize what it is you want.”