Runaway Cowboy (13 page)

J
EN STEPPED ONTO
the front porch as Clay tipped his glass of water back and took a quick swallow. As soon as he saw her, his eyes grew wide and he started to cough, spitting the water onto her brother seated across from him.

“Nice, Clay,” Derek said, flipping his drenched hands in front of him. “That was smooth.” Derek looked at her. “Are you sure you
want
to go to dinner with him? He might spill a beer down the front of you for all the class he's got.”

Clay glared at him. “Sorry, I just . . . ”

His gaze traveled from her hair, piled on her head in a loose, messy bun, to the dress that hugged every curve while actually showing very little skin. She'd found it on a clearance rack and wondered where she'd ever wear it with its loose, draped neckline and sleeves with shoulder cutouts. It hit midthigh, and with a pair of black, knee-high boots, it was dressy and casual simultaneously.

“Wow. Just . . . wow!” Clay took her hand and led her toward his truck.

She blushed under his appreciative glance. “You did say to dress up.”

“Don't worry, Jen, we won't wait up for you,” Derek called, making her blush again as Clay opened the door for her.

“You look nice, Clay,” she murmured, her hand on his forearm as she climbed into the truck. She was careful to hold her dress to her thighs, but it rode up higher than she'd thought it would, giving Clay a glimpse of most of her leg. She heard him groan quietly as he closed the door.

He climbed into the driver's side and looked at her again, fumbling with his key. “You make me want to skip dinner and go right to dessert.”

She ignored the burning sensation on her cheeks. She'd heard the angry voices and Candie's hasty departure and worried Clay might cancel their date altogether. She didn't want to get her hopes up that he might stay, but just in case he only stayed tonight, she wanted to make the most of every second. Her stomach was so twisted in knots that she didn't think she'd be able to eat anyway.

“We could.”

She saw him close his eyes and inhale deeply, before turning his hot gaze on her again. “Woman, you're killing me. I promised you dinner, and we are going to dinner.” His voice scolded, but she could see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

She could also see the tension in his shoulders melt away as he pulled the truck onto the main road before turning onto the highway. There weren't many cars on the road, but it was a weeknight and most people would be heading to bed. Early mornings didn't lend well to late-night dates when everyone had to get up at the crack of dawn to feed animals.

As much as she hated the travel rodeo forced on her, she couldn't imagine doing anything else. It allowed her to work with her family from their home, doing what they loved with nothing but wide-open spaces surrounding her. Something no other job could offer. She looked back at Clay and wondered if he was doing what he wanted. His hands twisted around the steering wheel, squeaking on the leather in the quiet of the truck. He gripped it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“You okay?” she asked.

“You're wearing my favorite perfume.” His voice was deep and husky, like he'd just woken from a long night's sleep. She watched as he took a turn she hadn't expected.

“Aren't we going to dinner?” There was nothing down this road but a few small farms and Mills River Dude Ranch.

“I called in a favor; Jerry Mills rented me one of his cabins.” Her heart skidded to a stop before pounding out of control. A cabin?

He turned toward her. “I'm having dinner delivered.”

Like ice cream in the summer sun, her body seemed to be melting on the spot at the mere thought of being alone with him. Not wanting him to know she was nothing more than a puddle of desire, she sought out her mischievous side. “It's not pizza, is it? Because I'd hate to think I got this dressed up for pepperoni.”

He laughed. God, how she'd missed him.

“No, but it
is
a surprise, so you'll have to wait and see.”

C
LAY PULLED UP
to the cabin and silently thanked Jerry for making this happen. Leaving Jen in the truck, he went into the cabin and lit several candles around the room, including two tapers on the small dining table. He removed the food from the delivery plates and put them on the dinnerware Jerry had left out for him. If it weren't so hot, he would have lit a fire. He looked at the romantic setting of the room and sighed at the bittersweet irony.

Now that he'd finally opened up and been honest with Jen, she wanted him to stay. But it hadn't changed anything. She would always be in danger with him. Even though Candie swore she'd be fine, until he knew for sure, he couldn't take her word for it. He'd heard it before. And, with her ignoring his calls, he had no idea where she'd driven off to in that hunk of junk she drove; therefore, he wasn't holding out much hope.

He hurried back to where Jen waited for him, with her door open and facing out. Clay took her hand, but she pulled him back toward her. His hand immediately fell to her thigh, unable to stand close without touching her.

“Look, a shooting star.” She pointed up.

The movement closed the distance between them. Clay's body heated, and he felt the blood throb in his veins. He looked down at her, grateful for the darkness that would hide every feeling he knew was on his face at that moment. “Make a wish, Jen.” He almost choked on emotion as he said the words.

She looked up at him and laid a hand against his chest. He was sure she could feel his heart racing beneath her fingers. “I already did.”

He wanted to ask what it was, whether it was about him, or better yet
them
, but fear gripped his lungs and kept him from speaking. He couldn't help but make his own wish in that moment—that their circumstances were different, that he wouldn't have to leave when the sun came up. He cleared his throat, ruining the moment, and led her inside the cabin. As he held her chair, she just stared at him. Damn, his fool stubborn pride. Why couldn't he just tell her what he was thinking? What he was feeling?

“You don't want to know what it was?” In the candlelight, her eyes looked as if they were lit by a fire within.

“Jen, let's just hold onto what we have tonight.” He didn't want to think past this moment, this night, because that would lead him down the road to leaving again, to the day when Candie came back looking for more money or for him to bail her out of trouble again.

She smiled softly and rose from her seat, moving to stand beside him, laying her hand on his cheek. “Then let's have dessert before dinner after all. It's not
tonight
I want to hold.” Without another word, she turned her back to him and walked toward the small cabin's bedroom. “Coming?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder before disappearing.

Clay sighed. Jen was tempting him more than he thought was possible. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, hating himself for giving in when he should be walking away. With his fingers tugging at the knot of his tie, he followed her into the room. His phone vibrated in his pocket; he thought about ignoring it, but he was still worried about where Candie had headed to, driving that hunk-of-junk.
Please don't let her be stranded on the side of the road needing me to pick her up now. I don't know that I could force myself to leave.

He glanced at the screen and saw the text:
At my Dad's with his new wife in Truckee. Going to work in her hair salon. All is good (I promise), so marry her already.

Clay let out a long breath of relief that she'd arrived some place in one piece. Honestly, of all the men his mother had been involved with, Candie's father had been his favorite. His sister, like their mother, had a wild streak, but if anyone else was going to be able to help Candie get her life back on track, it was her father. Now that Candie had finally decided to clean up her act, the small tourist town in the Sierras might be just the secluded place for her to get a fresh start.

He tapped the keys on his phone, texting her back with the only important question when it came to his flighty sister:
How long are you staying?

The reply was immediate:
Until I come back for your wedding. I'm safe, I promise.

Despite all of the ways Candie had messed up over the years, she had her stubborn pride, and she never
ever
went back on a promise. This was her way of letting him know he should move on with his life; she was releasing him from his promise to their mother by doing the most difficult thing she could—staying out of trouble. A smile curved his mouth as he texted her back:
Love you, little sister. Wedding will be ASAP.

Clay looked back toward the bedroom and grinned. The woman in there had no idea what was about to happen.

I
F SOMEONE HAD
told Jen a week ago that she'd be lying in a cabin, trying to seduce Clayton Graham into staying with her, she'd have laughed in his face. As a matter of fact, she probably would have punched him in the mouth. Yet here she was, lying in nothing more than a see-through wisp of a bra, a lace thong, and garters, no less, hoping to convince him to give them another chance. She'd never been a good flirt, and this was so far beyond her realm of expertise. She felt like a fool, an
exposed
fool. Especially since he hadn't followed her into the room. The more time that passed, the more she wondered if she shouldn't give up this pursuit altogether. She glanced at the empty doorway again.

You're an idiot, Jennifer.

She rose and reached for her dress at the foot of the bed, turning her back to the doorway and slipping it back over her head.

“What did I miss?”

She heard Clay's husky laughter as her arms were caught over her head, twisted in the dress she was now regretting. She quickly tugged at the dress, but it wouldn't cooperate. “I was . . . I just . . . ”

His grin widened, causing the dimple in his cheek to deepen. “I think I liked it better the way it was.”

She glared at him with the only eye visible through the neckline of her dress. One minute he was pushing her away, the next, pulling her closer. She was getting whiplash from his mood swings.

“Yeah? Well, you missed your chance, pal. I'm done playing games.” Jen finally maneuvered her dress down and bent over to pull on her boots.

Clay's hands found the curve of her bottom and slid over her hip to her waist, urging her back to standing before she got the boot on. “No games. Nothing between us but the past, and we need to talk about it for a second.” Her breath caught in her throat, blocking any of the retorts she might think of. “I was an idiot to ever leave you. I wanted to protect you from my past and the trouble that seemed to follow me wherever I went. All I did was hurt you myself. I thought if you saw where I came from,
what
I came from, you'd leave.” He held her chin between his thumb and finger. “I'm sorry for being a fool, for being afraid to let you see the real me. For not trusting what we had.”

His eyes grew dark, the green deepening. “I love you, Jennifer Chandler. I always have and I always will, but I can't hurt you anymore. I can't stand to see that pain in your eyes, the fear that I'm going to leave you—like your parents, like I did before.”

Tears filled her eyes, washing away the desire she'd felt only moments ago, leaving agony in its wake. This was how it would happen. This was how he would walk away again, and this time, she wouldn't be able to find all the broken pieces of her heart.

He moved forward, cupping her face in his hands and bending his head until his lips barely brushed hers. “Marry me?”

Her heart stopped completely, and she wondered if she might pass out. “What?”

She tried to pull away from him, to see his face, but he wouldn't allow it. His mouth found hers, his tongue sweeping inside, caressing, teasing, and toying with her. She wanted answers, to know if she'd actually heard him right, but he had other plans. His hands plunged into her hair as his lips continued to demand her all. Jen pressed her palms against his chest, but instead of pushing him away as her brain instructed, her hands slid over the muscles tensing under her touch. Clay groaned deep in his throat and pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Say yes.” His hands moved over her ribs, his thumbs brushing along the curve of her breasts. “Say you'll marry me, already.” Barely restraining himself, his fingers clenched along her sides. One hand reached into his pants pocket, and he withdrew the diamond solitaire he'd given her so long ago. “Be my wife, and I promise I will never go anywhere again.”

The diamond glinted in the near darkness, catching light from down the hall and winking at her. “I thought you couldn't stay.” A tremor of fear rippled through her. What if she said yes and he was gone again in the morning? Would he leave her the next time Candie needed him?

“I was wrong,” he said between kisses, nibbling at her lips. “So wrong. Marry me, Jen.”

“Clay, I thought you . . . ”

“I know what you thought, what I let you think, but Candie is safe, at least for now, and she forced me to face a few things. The most important thing was that I can't lose you again. Nothing is more important than you.”

As if sensing her hesitation, he smiled. “I'm staying whether you say yes or no, so you might as well agree now. Otherwise it's going to be damn uncomfortable for us when we're working together at the ranch.” She laughed even through her tears. “You know,” he began, his eyes glinting with playful hunger, “the sooner you say yes, the sooner we can get this dress off again, and I can see if you are really wearing that garter belt I thought I saw.”

“I should make you sweat a while after what you've put me through.” She knew she wouldn't.

“Trust me, Jen.” His eyes stared into hers with a heat like molten lava, melting every bone in her body and making everything south of her waist throb with yearning. “I'm sweating.”