Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) (8 page)

David walked out to meet them at the door of the barn.

“Have you seen the Paso?” Tony bit out the question.

David shook his head.

Tony turned his horse back to face the open field. He issued an order over his shoulder. “Send the men to do a perimeter check. I want a helicopter up in the air and every inch of the valley searched. No one comes home without that horse.”

In his often irritatingly calm manner, David drawled, “He couldn’t have gotten very far. With some on horseback and a few in trucks, we’ll find him before nightfall. You sure you want to involve Dean?”

As a tangle of emotions battered him, finding the horse was the only thing he
was
sure about. Spinning his palomino, he was on David, barking out his command. “I want that horse found. Now.”

David shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

Tense beyond what such an event should have made him, he snapped back, “I am.” With that, he urged his horse to move with more force than normal. Sarah clung to him even tighter as they surged forward into a gallop. He finally slowed at the top of a small hill that gave them a better vantage point, letting out a long sigh.

“Thank you,” Sarah said quietly from behind him.

“We haven’t found him yet.”

The grateful squeeze she gave him had nothing to do with holding on and sent his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “No, but we will. If anyone can find him, it’s you.” The faith she placed in him filled him with guilt. She deserved better.

He laid one of his hands over hers on his stomach and said harshly, “I have nothing to offer you outside of what we shared earlier. Don’t start thinking this is more than it is. When you find your horse you should probably go.”

He felt her take a shaky breath before she asked, “Is that what you want?”

He searched the open field and the edge of the surrounding wooded area as he answered, “No.”

They rode in silence down the side of the hill and headed toward the tree line. A helicopter flew overhead. The pilot tipped the aircraft in their direction. Tony directed him to the other side of the woods with a wave.

“I’m sorry that you have to do all of this for me.”

He didn’t answer her. What could he say? It’s not a bother? He wasn’t one to lie. He could only imagine what Dean had thought when David called him. The local TV news would love the story, too. He could hear the sound bite now:
Carlton loses mind, now horses. Details on how far this reclusive horse trainer has sunk at eleven.

Oh yes, he couldn’t tell Sarah that she wasn’t a bother.

She’d been trouble since the moment he’d found her in his shower.

But, God help him, he didn’t have the strength to warn her to leave again.

What did I expect him to say? It’s a flipping joy to disrupt my ranch and chase down your horse for you?

He said he doesn’t want me to leave, but he also doesn’t want me to stay.

What’s a woman supposed to do with that?

As she and Tony entered the shaded covering of the woods, she felt another wave of panic overtake her. And as they often did, her thoughts scattered and tangled as she tried to calm herself.
I am so sorry, Scooter. I never considered that you could be the price of a wild adventure.

But that’s me.

I can’t be trusted to care for anythin
g . . .
or anyone.

It always ends badly.

Tears filled her eyes, making it impossible to see past the plaid of Tony’s shirt.
I don’t know why I thought Texas would be different. That I would be different here.

They say you should write what you know.

I should stop trying to write a romance and write a fucking tragedy.

Images of the intimacy she and Tony had shared just a short while ago rushed back to taunt her.

Okay, not all of this trip has been bad.

At least now I know that my bits and pieces work.

If I had tied Scooter to a tree, I could be having mind-blowing sex right now.

Oh my God, I’m a bad person. My horse could be hurt and calling for me, and all I can think about is how I’d like to be pressed this closely to Tony but without all these clothes.

No wonder he keeps suggesting I leave.

I’m a loon.

A loon who may have just killed her horse.

She hugged Tony’s strong back and said, “You’re probably wondering why I got so upset when we’ll likely find him and he’ll be just fine.”

“No.”

Her voice went up several octaves. “No, he won’t be fine?”

“No, I wasn’t wondering.”

Sarah stiffened in response. “Well, that’s not nice.”

He tensed beneath her touch. “I told you, I’m not a nice man.”

Sarah bit back an instant desire to agree with him. If she believed him, she’d leave the moment they found Scooter. But that was the problem: No matter what Tony said, she saw something in him that she couldn’t walk away from. Like on TV when people sit and talk to family members in comas, believing that they can be heard even when doctors tell them they can’t be.

Tony’s trapped inside this gruff man, but that’s not him. I know it isn’t.
You could judge a person by what he said, but Sarah had always believed that a person’s true nature was revealed in his actions. Tony had taken her in when she’d needed a place to stay. He’d been unselfish in lovemaking and now was on a full-on hunt for an animal that meant nothing to him.

His tough talk was just that—talk.

Although she couldn’t see them at the moment, she could picture his soulful eyes looking down at her.
I don’t believe you, Tony Carlton.

You and I were meant to find each other.

“Thank God,” Tony said, and for a moment Sarah’s heart soared until he added, “There’s your damn horse.”

Deep in the woods, quietly munching away on the short brush in the coolness of the shade, Scooter paused and looked up as they approached. He whinnied to the horse beneath them and received an answering call. Tony swung a leg forward over the head of his horse and slid to the ground, turning to help Sarah down.

“He looks unhurt. Does he come when you call?” Tony asked without taking his eyes off Scooter.

“When I have grain.” Tony turned to look at her and she said a bit defensively, “It was never an issue before.”

With no softening to the harsh set of his jaw, he said, “I could help you work on a few things with him.”

Hope welled within Sarah, but she fought to conceal it. She looked at him boldly and asked, “How long would that take?”

Desire lit his eyes and ignited a responding heat within her as she waited for his answer. “Could take a day.” A hint of smile pulled at one side of his mouth as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. “Could take a few weeks.”

And there it was—an offer of an extended stay.

An opportunity to learn something entirely different from what they were discussing.

A chance to see what was behind all that talk.

All she had to do was agree.

Leaning forward onto her tiptoes, she put a hand on his shoulder and said yes with a kiss that left them both shaking and gasping for air. A part of Sarah registered the sound of a helicopter nearby, but she was too absorbed by the look in Tony’s eyes to give it more than a passing thought. Sarah had kissed men before, and certainly done more than that with Doug, but she’d never felt out of control—experienced a desire for a man that was so strong it made everyone and everything else disappear, with nothing mattering beyond the touch of his lips and the feel of his skin.

A deep male voice pulled them harshly back to earth. “You might want to grab that horse before he runs off again. Guess I don’t have to ask how you lost him the first time.”

Tony straightened with a curse and turned toward a tan-uniform-clad man who, although he looked slightly older than Tony, shared enough of his physical features that Sarah wondered why neither seemed happy about seeing the other. With a noticeable lack of gratitude in his tone, Tony said, “I appreciate your help today.”
Now leave.
He didn’t have to say the words for his meaning to be clear.

The other man smiled—an action as lacking in warmth as Tony’s words had been. “You’re not going to introduce me?”

When Tony made no move to do so, Sarah took a step away from him and put out her hand to the tall stranger who, no matter what, had come to help her that day. “Sarah Dery.” She noted the silver star on his shirt. Sheriff? Tony had called in the big guns for her. She looked back at him and would have thanked him again, but Tony’s expression was stone cold.

He needs to learn how to relax
.
That much anger can’t be good for you. Is it wrong that I can think of at least five ways I’d like to try to help him with that and all of them would require privacy?

Releasing her hand, the man said, “Dean Carlton. I’m the local law. You sound like you’re a long way from home. Are you here on vacation?”

Carlton?

Tony stepped in front of her, his aggressive stance a warning in itself. “Like I said, I appreciate you coming by.”

Even though the two men looked on the verge of either a yelling match or coming to blows, Sarah felt for both of them. She placed her hand on Tony’s lower back and felt his muscles clench with tension beneath her light touch. She looked back and forth between them and felt a real sadness for whatever had happened that neither could seem to put aside long enough to see the other was hurting.

Dean leaned in and snarled, “One day I won’t.”

Tony shrugged dismissively, an act that appeared to anger the other man more.

Sarah understood their relationship even without knowing the details of it. Something causes a rift between two people, and time coupled with pride only increases it. It took driving hundreds of miles away from her problems, but now she saw them for what they were, and she felt grateful for the clarity she was gaining. It was that growing understanding of herself that made her say, “I appreciate your help, Dean. Maybe we could all have dinner together tomorrow night as a thank-you to everyone who dropped everything to help me find Scooter.”

Two shocked Texans turned to stare down at her as if she’d suggested they both wear dresses and do a jig.

“No—” Tony said.

“That’s a mighty kind offer,” Dean said at the same time, and turned to challenge Tony. “Better watch out, Tony, or your little lady will teach you manners.” He tipped his hat to Sarah and said, “I’m tempted to accept just to see if you could make the impossible happen.”

“Get the hell off my property,” Tony grated.

“With pleasure,” Dean answered, and strode back to his helicopter.

Watching him go, Sarah asked, “Is Dean your brother?”

Tony turned his full attention back to Sarah, and she took an instinctive step away from the intensity of his glower. He pushed a hand beneath her hair and hauled her to him. His hand closed on her behind and lifted her onto her tiptoes against him. “I don’t want to talk about him. In fact, what I want has nothing to do with talking, but you need to understand something. I’m not one of those city boys who will do what you ask just because you bat those sexy brown eyes. You stay here, you stay on my terms, not yours.”

Sarah gulped. Normally she would have said there was nothing sexy about a domineering man, but her panties were soaked with evidence to the contrary.
Domineer me all the way to the bedroom, cowboy.
She rubbed herself against his already bulging erection.
Unless this location would work for you, then I’m totally okay with that option, too.

His mouth had just descended to claim hers when David’s voice announced, “Never mind, boys, it looks like they found the horse. Let’s go.” There was a small commotion followed by the sound of trucks starting, and then horses and vehicles departing.

Sarah groaned.

What does a woman have to do to get a moment alone with Tony on this ranch?

Hopefully, we’ll need more than a moment.

She laughed at the thought, and once she started she couldn’t stop. Maybe it was a release after the emotional roller coaster she’d been on. Maybe it was temporary insanity because of excess sexual frustration. Whatever it was, she hid her forehead in Tony’s chest and gave in to a fit of laughter. She laughed until tears were running down her face, then settled back onto her heels to wipe a hand across her wet cheeks.

When she peered up, Tony was glowering down at her again. Sarah raised a hand and touched one of his cheeks gently.

He inhaled sharply and covered her hand with one of his own. Then he turned away, took her horse by the reins, and handed them to her. “Might as well head back.”

Sarah swung herself up onto her horse and waited for Tony to join her on his own. As they rode side by side back into the open field, she couldn’t help but say, “If you want, you can threaten me again when we get back to your house. I thought it was really hot.”

A slight flush spread up his neck and across his cheeks before he turned his face away, and they rode again in silence.

Which was a good thing, because he missed the huge smile that spread across Sarah’s face.

You might fool everyone else, Tony Carlton, but I’m onto you.

Chapter Eight

A
few hours later, Sarah sat in a swing on Tony’s porch with her notebook and pen on her lap. After helping her check that Scooter hadn’t been hurt by his excursion, Tony had announced he had a few things to do that afternoon—alone. David said he’d headed into town.

Not exactly how I thought our return would go.

She smiled as she imagined them galloping to the porch, both coming to a sliding stop just in time. He’d jump down, pull her from Scooter, toss her over his shoulder, and, taking the stairs two at a time, whisk her into his bedroom.

Not scowl at me and announce you’ll be back later.

Jerk.

Texas, you are a big fat tease.

What am I supposed to do? Sit here, revving my private engines and wait?

I hate you, Tony Carlton.

I still want to rip off your clothes and kiss every one of those muscles I clung to during the ride, but that doesn’t mean you can dump me at your house like I don’t matter.

I’m going to teach you a little lesson when you get home.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat at the thought.
Anger is sexy.

She whipped open her notebook and turned to the first scene of
Ridden Hard.
The scene was missing tension, the building passion of push and pull between characters. No wonder the heroine didn’t orgasm.

Sarah closed her eyes and imagined she was in the scene with Tony. She pulled from how she’d felt since she first met him and began to write.

I park at the end of Holt’s driveway and curse the heavy rain that makes it impossible for me to see if his car is there. I should come back later. I should wait for him to invite me over, but he’s all I can think about. Right. Wrong. It doesn’t matter.

I can’t stay away. My Jimmy Choo stilettos fall victim to the mud, but I don’t care. I step out of them and place them beside the door. The rain has plastered my white cotton dress to my body, the transparency of it only increasing the heat between my thighs.

As soon as he answers the door he’ll instantly see my nipples pushing through the wet material in anticipation of his touch. I won’t have to tell him how eager I am to feel his mouth on them.

I knock once.

No answer.

I knock twice and eagerly push my long red curls back from my face.

I shiver from the pleasure of knowing that I’ll be in his arms in seconds.

Still no answer.

I try the door and find it unlocked. I step inside, leaving small puddles in the hallway. The clock on the wall ticks away in an otherwise silent house. Five thirty.

He should be home, but he’s not.

I should leave, but I’ve come too far.

I step out of my dress, letting it fall to the floor in a wet heap in the middle of the hall. I walk toward the main-floor bathroom and shed my wet bra and panties along the way: a trail of crumbs for him to follow.

And he will.

Holt wants me as much as I want him, even though he tries to deny it.

I step into the bathroom I’d once used for a much more innocent purpose, when I’d attended a party at the house. The shower is just as I remembered it, when I’d pictured the two of us passionately entwined within.

I turn on the faucet and step beneath the hot spray, closing my eyes from the pleasure of it. Even alone, I can feel him with me. I know just how his kiss would feel on my exposed throat. I run my hands over my hard nipples, pinching them lightly and imagining how they would feel between his teeth.

The hot water cascades over my breasts, down my stomach, and tickles the small patch of hair between my thighs. I spread my legs wider, enjoying the warmth of it and imagining how his tongue would feel following the same path.

I run a hand down my side and to my pulsing . . .

Sarah hesitated and sought the right word.
Slit? Vagina? Lips? I can’t write
pussy
. Can I?

She avoided the decision and wrote:
(insert right word later).

I slip a finger between my lower lips and imagine that it’s his tongue. There is no need to rush when something feels this good. I softly run my finger back and forth, feeling my (clit?) grow beneath my touch.

I use two fingers to spread my lips wider, and a stream of water rushes in and warms me as I imagine his breath would. I raise a leg so I can open myself more fully to the spray, to my fingers, to him.

I slide my middle finger inside myself and clench involuntarily. I’m soft, wet, and so ready. I delve deeper, pumping in and out with a rhythm as old as time itself.

I’m fucking myself and it’s good.

Oh, so good.

I circle my clit with my thumb, still pumping as I rub. One finger isn’t enough now. I insert another and lean back against the coolness of the shower wall as I picture his (penis? staff? cock?) thrusting inside me. The steam of the spray is his hot kiss on every inch of my skin.

I come on my hand, shuddering and gasping for air. Unwilling to end the pleasure, I bring my wet fingers to my mouth and suckle my juices as if they were his. I lick my fingers lovingly, imagining they are his cock. I take them deep within me, deeper than I ever thought I could, and I love how he fills me.

My mouth is his for the taking, and his pleasure is my pleasure.

I clutch one wet breast while I imagine him pushing his hands into my hair so he can hold my head there, ensuring his release is welcomed deeply.

I come again, this time claiming his orgasm as my own.

An orgasm he would have had.

Had he been fucking home.

Sarah slammed her notebook shut, feeling pleased with how her writing was changing—and also about the jab she’d written for Tony at the end.

She cocked her head to the side mischievously as an idea came to her that instantly began an inner debate.

I couldn’t.

That would take serious balls, and I’
m . . .

See, that’s the problem. If I do what I’ve always done, how can I expect things to be any different than they’ve always been?

With a fortifying deep breath, Sarah stood, opened the door to Tony’s house, and headed upstairs. Instead of going to her room, she went to his and placed her notebook on his pillow.

He’d read her notebook earlier when he should have respected her privacy.

It would serve him right to read this.

Back in the hallway, Sarah leaned against Tony’s closed door. She had no idea how he’d react to her latest entry.

But a woman can hope.

She pushed away from the door and decided she’d have to find something to distract herself with while she waited for Tony to come home or she’d lose her mind.

Maybe it’s time to call my brother. He’s not going to be happy when he finds out that I’m not at Lucy’s house, but I’ll tell him I needed to stay for research purposes.

Sarah chuckled to herself as she descended the stairs.
I’m not a sex-crazed woman chasing a fantasy night with a cowboy. I’m an author researching my first novel.

She stopped at the mirror at the bottom of the stairs and blushed at the burning desire evident in her eyes.
I should try to look cool and unattainable, but all I can think i
s . . .

Bring on the research.

Sarah squared her shoulders and headed into the living room to call Charlie. She picked up the phone and dialed quickly.
I’m an adult. He’s my brother, not my keeper. He’ll understand.

“Charles Dery, please.”

“I’ll put you right through,” his secretary said, so cheerfully Sarah wanted to smack her.

“Hello?” The male voice was crisp and impatient.

This trip was all about finding her voice—in her writing and in her life. She cleared her throat and said, “Charlie, it’s Sarah.”

“It’s about time you called.” His voice boomed through the line. “Mom and Dad are worried sick. You were supposed to call when you got there. What happened yesterday? We called Lucy and she said you’re not staying with her.”

“It turned out that I couldn’t stay there.”

“She said you’re at someone else’s ranch? I didn’t know you knew anyone else down there.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” Sarah said defiantly.
Thank God.
She covered her mouth with a shaky hand. A nervous laugh escaped.
I can barely justify this to myself; Charlie would never understand.

The hiss of his angrily indrawn breath was more evidence that she was correct to keep some aspects of this trip to herself.

“Who the hell is Anthony Carlton?” he demanded.

“Who?” Sarah asked lamely.
How does he know about Tony?

“You must know him since you’re calling from his phone.”

Shit. Why didn’t I block caller ID?

“I’m fine, Charlie. You can tell Mom and Dad to relax. This trip is the best thing I’ve done in a long time. I’m actually writing again.”

He made some noncommittal sound that spoke volumes about his disapproval. “Where is this ranch?”

Please, please do not come here.
Sarah reluctantly gave him the information. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let her hang up without it.

She wanted to tell him more about what she was doing there and how everything about Texas was healing her, but talking about that would mean mentioning the past—and that had always been taboo.

Does he still blame me? Is that why he doesn’t believe I’m capable of making the simplest decisions on my own?

Maybe I don’t deserve this second chance, but I’m going for it, anyway. In Texas, I don’t have to be who I’ve always been. I don’t have to apologize for what I failed to be. Here, I’m simply me. Just a woman on a journey.

How do I make my brother see that?

“Charlie, I need this. I know you don’t understand it, but can you give me time?”

If you do, I may even find the courage to tell you the truth.

“I should fly down ther
e . . .
”

Sarah held her breath.

“But I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

A flash of movement behind Sarah made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Charlie said.

Me, too,
Sarah thought as she hung up and looked around. The living room and foyer were empty. For a moment there she’d been convinced that someone had been watching her.

First sex-starved, now paranoid.

Just remember, Texas, I’m writing a romance novel, not a thriller.

I’ll be fine with just a few weeks of memorable sex.

No need to scare the shit out of me.

This was a mistake.

When he’d chosen Fort Mavis, he’d done so for the acreage of the ranch he’d found and not much else. He’d considered the small population of Fort Mavis, even in the town’s center, a perk. The fewer people around, the less there are to avoid. In his years of traveling to train horses all over the world, he’d forgotten the problem with small communities: Everyone knows everything. Instantly.

Bad enough that the afternoon’s madness had been witnessed, but the amused looks from ranch hands who normally feared him were enough to set his temper boiling. David had ordered some parts for one of the tractors from the local mechanic. Tony’d hoped that going into town would give him a chance to clear his head. But he could tell by the way people watched him park his truck that the story had already spread to town.

He wasn’t two steps out of his vehicle when a group of three young men, all appearing to be in their late teens, approached him.

Shit.

One of them leaned against his truck while the other two flanked him.

There’s a reason I hate people.

“What kind of trainer loses horses?” one of the boys sneered.

Without turning to look at the boy, Tony growled, “Get off my truck.”

One of the boy’s sidekicks scowled and said, “You think we’re afraid of you. We aren’t.”

He recognized two of the boys as the sons of Russell White, a man he’d fired the season before when he’d heard that he’d sold photos taken from Tony’s barn to the tabloids. The man hadn’t left without a fuss. What was it about successfully silencing one man with a punch that made others want to test if you could silence them, too?

“I won’t warn you again.” When none of the boys moved, Tony half turned and grabbed the one who was leaning on his truck by the neck, pinning him to the vehicle and lifting the boy onto his toes. He looked the other two squarely in the eyes and both took a step back.

“Let Keith go, Tony,” Dean said from a few feet away.

Tony let the kid slide down the side of the truck and released him.

Gasping for air, Keith said, “Did you see that, Sheriff? He tried to kill me.”

Another of the boys jeered, “He won’t do nothing about it. They’re brothers.”

Pointing at Tony, Keith said, “When I tell my father that you tried to strangle me, he’ll kill you.”

Tony shrugged.

Dean said, “We’ll have no talk of killing in my town, Keith. The only thing you’ll get from your dad if you tell him this story is a butt whupping. Funny thing about trouble is that if you go looking for it, you’ll always find it. Shouldn’t you and your friends be painting Mary Karen’s house? I heard that’s what you told your father you needed time off the farm to get done.”

Despite the scowl the tallest boy gave Dean, he said, “Yes, sir.”

“Then y’all get along now.”

Shooting a final glare at Tony, Keith said, “Come on, guys, he’s not worth the trouble.”

Tony let out a sigh as his adrenaline ebbed. He shook his head and started walking away as if nothing had happened.

Dean fell into step beside him. “That temper of yours will get you killed one day.”

Without looking at his brother, Tony said, “You warning or hoping?”

“If I wanted you dead, why would I keep saving your hide?”