Tyler (3 page)

Emily sat down hard on the steps. She’d never had the wind knocked out of her looking at a tall, dark-eyed cowboy before. Then again, she’d been involved with a string of losers; the latest one had pulled the rug out from under her… go figure.

Shaking her head, she watched her cousin do what she did best… grab a hold of the reins and take charge.

Watching Tyler’s expression and the way his color changed from grim to green, she felt sorry for him. She couldn’t help it… she liked him. There was an innate kindness that she’d connected with right off. When he looked as if he’d swallowed sour milk, she realized that her cousin must be telling him the rules.

Thinking she might have to go to his rescue, Emily strained to hear their conversation.

“My what?”

From the tone of his voice and the way Tyler’s face flushed crimson, Jolene must have mentioned the “look but don’t touch” rule to him. That comment usually had that reaction from the dancers they’d interviewed for the job. Some walked away, not willing to follow Jolene’s rules. Too bad for them the last dancer had agreed but hadn’t kept his word. She had a feeling the gorgeous hunk of man she’d been blindsided by would. Emily hadn’t been tempted by a good-looking man in six months. She didn’t want to be now. Looking at the way Tyler kept backing up, she knew she wouldn’t have a choice. She yearned to be alone with him, talk to him, sit on a front porch swing with him… hell, they didn’t have a swing, let alone a front porch.

Sighing, she shifted and the bowl slipped in her grasp. She caught it before it hit the stairs, giving away the fact that she hadn’t left. Heck, she couldn’t; there was something about the dark-eyed cowboy that pulled at her, tugging at her heartstrings. Maybe it was the hint of desperation—he needed the job—or maybe his willingness to look at their sink. He was polite and easy on the eyes.

The image of Tyler catching Gwen was stuck in her mind and had her fingers fumbling, nearly dropping the bowl a second time. Damn but that was one fine-looking cowboy. Her blood began to hum, and her skin positively tingled remembering how tightly he’d hung on to Gwen for dear life. Her mouth went dry wondering how it would feel if his hands were cupping her bottom. The tingles spread and the humming built to a deafening roar as she remembered how he’d spread his legs to help handle the weight he held with his beautifully bulging biceps. Oh my God, he was hot.

Fanning her face, to cool her overheated flesh, she ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, catching a speck of chocolate. Savoring her favorite flavor, she let her imagination run wild, the focus being the tall, dark-haired hunk of cowboy tied to her bedposts, a bowl of chocolate, and her eager tongue. No! Step back from the fantasy and the dark-eyed, dreamy man, and no one would get hurt. She couldn’t let her heart get involved again; it had been too painful the last time it had been stomped on and ground into the dirt.

“I don’t have time for romance,” she grumbled, scooping up a spoonful of batter. Licking her lips, she indulged in her favorite weakness, the chocolaty goodness, and dipped the spoon back into the bowl. Three spoonfuls later, she slowly smiled. “But I might be able to squeeze in some time for a walk on the wild side.” The tall, dark, and studly cowboy looked interested enough to make it worth her while and one hell of a ride.

Emily slowly got to her feet. She needed to get back upstairs to one of her back-up boxes of brownie mix. Baking always cleared her mind. There was something soothing about mixing ingredients together, while her mind wandered and her hands were busy. She could usually work through most of her worries by the time the batter was smooth and ready to be poured into the pan.

A little while later, she’d successfully outwitted the mixer by using good old-fashioned elbow grease and her favorite wooden spoon, and she had two batches of warm and gooey goodness cooling on the countertop to show for it. “Time to get cleaned up and see how tall, dark, and handsome is doing downstairs.” Mind clear, she was ready to see if she could distract the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. She showered quickly so she could spend more time on her makeup and deciding what to wear. Twisting her hair up off her neck, she secured it in place with a hair clip and studied her reflection. “If only I could do something about these freckles.”

Knowing it was her only option, she dragged out the mineral powder makeup she used liberally to hide the offending spots sprinkling her cheeks and nose. A swipe of blush across her cheekbones, touch of mascara, and thin line of purple on her lids, and she was ready for lip gloss.

Leaning close to the mirror, she applied her favorite shade of lip color and pressed her lips together. Stepping back, she studied her handiwork and smiled. “Not bad.” She laughed. “Better than the first outfit he saw me in.”

Twirling to the left and then the right, Emily was satisfied with the body-hugging fit of her black denim skirt and deep green tank top. With a dab of lavender oil on her pulse points, she was ready to see if she could tempt the handsome cowboy who’d managed to work his way under her skin with his gentle teasing. Ready to do a little distracting of her own, she grinned. “It wouldn’t be right if I’m the only one suffering.”

He may think she was bubble-headed and scatterbrained—most people did at first—but she was ready to let him see the focused side of her personality. When she put her mind to it, she could do whatever she wanted. She had a gut feeling Tyler was different than the men she usually dated. There was just something about him. She couldn’t say exactly why, but Emily looked forward to discovering what made Tyler tick as much as the need to talk him into her bed.

Stepping into her favorite pair of boots, she headed for the stairs. She was ready to attract and distract.

The steady beat of a familiar country tune throbbed in her veins. She looked to the left and then the right. Her gaze snagged and got stuck on the long, tall Texan standing on stage slipping out of his worn denim shirt. Every ounce of spit dried up in her mouth. She tried to lick her lips, but her tongue was paralyzed and her brain had completely shut down.

Thickly muscled pectorals smoothed, then bunched as he bent down and braced his hands on the back of a chair someone had placed on the stage. He leaned forward and his biceps bulged as he pressed more of his weight on the back of the chair.
Oh Lordy!

Emily stared, transfixed by the sight. Even though she’d met him earlier, there was something different about him when he was center stage. His go-to-hell-and-enjoy-the-trip attitude commanded attention. When he straightened up and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his leather chaps, her heart beat double time.

Even though she’d seen Clay do the same routine a hundred times, the impact of Tyler strutting across the stage in chaps and a tiny pair of black spandex briefs had her gasping for air and reaching out to steady herself. With one hand to her heart and the other braced against the wall, she wasn’t prepared when his gaze to swung toward hers.

Before she could react, he unbuckled his chaps and let them fall to the stage.

Air… she needed air! Good Lord, he was gorgeous. He had the body of a Greek god and the arrogance to match.

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and more than one moan of ecstasy, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He waited to the count of ten, spun on his boot heel, and strode to the back of the stage like a gunfighter preparing to take his stance at the end of Main Street before a shoot out.

Drawn to him, she made her way through the crowd toward the stage. Emily stared. She couldn’t look away; the back of him was as gorgeous as the front. Finally the cheers died down and as if on cue, the man slowly walked to the front of the stage where women waited, waving fists filled with bills. From where she stood Emily could tell they weren’t the one-dollar kind. Two women waved fistfuls of twenties, and one long-legged brunette held out a handful of fifties!

Wishing she weren’t a part owner in the club so she could push her way to the front of the crowd and monopolize the handsome hunk, she jolted when Jolene said, “Isn’t he magnificent?”

Emily agreed. “There’s something really special about him. You feel it too. Don’t you?”

Jolene nodded and put her arm around Emily. “It might take a little while for him to settle in.”

“You don’t think he’ll walk, do you?” If he left she might never see him again, and she had a deep-seated need to touch off that powder keg of passion she sensed lurked just below his
I-just-don’t-give-a-damn façade.

“I don’t know,” Jolene answered, “but the ladies love him.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, watching the way the women lined up in front of the stage caressed the span of Tyler’s shoulders and the sculpted muscles of his amazing pecs. She ground out, “Yeah, but it’s against our rules to shove bills down the front of his briefs.”

She knew Jolene must have seen it too when her cousin said, “Hell,” and stalked over toward the stage.

Emily had seen the blonde with dark roots stuffing her hands, along with a few bills, into the front of the cowboy’s clingy black briefs. When Tyler stiffened and jerked back, Emily got a good look at his face.

He looked mad enough to spit nails, that or brand something with his red-hot gaze. She blinked. Gwen jumped into the fray and had the blonde by the arm and was leading her toward the door.

The silent message rippled through the crowd as the women frantically waving bills paused to watch the woman who dared to go one step too far in her adoration of the handsome hunk on stage.

Why couldn’t the women be content with just having the opportunity to look at someone as beautiful as Tyler? He was the stuff dreams were made of… well, Emily’s dreams anyway.

Although the man on stage continued to move down the line, allowing the semi-circle of women surrounding the stage to trail the tips of their fingers on his arm, his shoulders, his chest, and for a brave few, a quick squeeze of his amazingly taut buttocks, he never once showed any emotion. Tyler had absolutely no expression on his face, but that didn’t seem to bother any one of his adoring public.

Then he turned to face her. Their gazes met and the bottom simply dropped out of her stomach. His eyes, hot and dark, just barely visible beneath the brim of his black Stetson, seared her right through to her soul.

He lifted his chin a notch as if daring her to comment on the fact that he stood before a group of wild women in a pair of spandex underwear. Body-hugging spandex that lovingly caressed each and every muscle of his sculpted backside. Lord above, he had abs to die for too, with roped muscles leading beneath the elastic band riding low on his hips. He sparked a series of fantasies Emily had had in mind for some time, just waiting for the right man to share them with. Her fingers itched to caress, her hands to grab a hold of him and not let go until she’d gone through her imaginative repertoire.

“He cannot be real,” Emily whispered as the image of the handsome hunk spread eagle on her bed, eyes hot with passion, wrists securely tied to her bedposts roared through her.

“He’s all too real.” Jolene sighed. “And mad as hell.”

The image faded with the music. Tyler tipped his hat to the crowd and swept his chaps from the floor. Flipping them over his shoulder, he strode off stage as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Emily had seen that expression on her cousin’s face before. “We’ll face him together, Jolene. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about him taking out his anger on us.”

“How do you know?” Jolene asked walking toward the door at the side of the stage.

Emily shrugged. “I’ve got a feeling about him. He might yell some though.”

The stage door burst open a few moments later. Emily had forgotten just how tall he was; he towered over Jolene, and her cousin had a good three inches in height over Emily.

Tyler looked like a storm cloud about to explode with thunder and lightning. “You never said anything about women shoving their hands down my shorts and taking a layer of skin off my dick with their claws!”

Emily hadn’t expected anyone to be that bold or that Tyler would be hurt. She felt his pain.

“I had no idea anyone would try anything like that.” Jolene kept her voice even, her tone soothing.

“One of your customers broke your rules,” Tyler ground out.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault—” Jolene began.

The anger and tension coiling within the big man had Jolene backing up into Emily, yet he only pushed his hat to the back of his head, and his expression changed from visibly angry to one of cold arrogance. “It’s your club… your rules.”

Emily looked at her cousin and was catapulted back in time to the day the Stalter brothers cornered little eight-year-old Jolene on the playground. She hugged her cousin and marched forward, drilling the tip of her pointer finger into Tyler’s rock-hard chest. “It’s our club and the rules usually work for our dancers and the club.”

Tyler’s gaze swung from Jolene to Emily and her heart kicked into overdrive. The anger swirling in the depths of his velvet brown eyes changed to an untamed emotion, something dark, dangerous, and compelling.

Emily couldn’t look away. He blinked, and for a split second, she saw his face contort in anguish. He blinked a second time and it was gone, leaving the heady mix of anger and passion that called to her on an elemental level as deeply as the anguish she’d seen there.

Tyler Garahan was a man of many levels, and Emily planned to discover each and every one.

“Your shift’s not over.” Jolene’s voice was soft but firm. “Are you going back on your word?”

Tyler’s anger seemed to dissipate. He shook his head. “Once a Garahan gives his word, you can count on him to keep it.”

“You looked like you were getting ready to walk.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jolene. I’m not used to being on stage standing in front of God and every one of those screaming women like that.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he struggled with what he was feeling. “I didn’t count on getting mauled like that. My temper got the better of me.”