Wife for a Day (21 page)

“Upset? What gives you that idea?”

“I haven't seen you frown like that since I dropped your tuxedo outside your hotel-room door.”

He took a long, cool swallow of beer and sat down in his chair. “Took me half an hour to get the knots untied. Do you have any idea how mad you get walking across a prairie in thirty-degree weather, trying to work knots loose with your teeth?”

“I imagine a person could get a little upset. But do
you
have any idea how mad you get when you find out someone is investigating your background?”

“The only reason you should be upset is if you have something to hide. Do you?”

“No, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you wouldn't believe me anyway.”

“Try me.”

“No!”

“I'll get it out of you if it's the last thing I do.”

“How?”

He grinned as he worked the loop over his head, watching her every move, wondering which way she'd go.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Same thing you did to me.”

“That was a fluke. I couldn't do it again in a million years, even if I tried.”

“It didn't feel like a fluke when my butt hit the ground. Didn't feel like a fluke when you
landed on my stomach and started tying my hands.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't sound sorry.”

“Okay, so I'm not. That doesn't give you any reason to rope me, now.”

“I've got a hell of a lot of reasons to lasso you.”

“Name one.”

He shook his head. “I'm not in the mood for games. Make your move, Whiskey. Let's see if you can get away.”

J
ack watched Sam's
gaze dart from the bedroom door, to the bathroom, to the loop circling over his head. It was just the perfect size, the lasso was the perfect length, and she was the perfect target. Once he roped her, he planned a slow revenge.

“You'll regret doing this,” she said, clutching his white shirt tightly to her chest.

“I have very few regrets in life. I won't be adding this one to the list.”

“Couldn't we call a truce?”

“You've got something white in your hands,” he told her, looking at the shirt clutched in her fingers. “If you want to wave it over your head in surrender, be my guest. I'll enjoy the view—but I still plan on roping you.”

“Then do it and get it over.”

“There's no fun in roping a stationary target. I want you to run.”

He could almost hear her teeth grinding as she looked from right to left. She thought she was being clever when she took a step toward the bedroom door, but he could see in her eyes that she was planning to bolt the other way. And he was ready.

The moment she moved, he threw the rope, and it slipped perfectly over her shoulders and her full, luscious breasts. He pulled it taut when it reached her waist.

She was trapped.

“Let me go.” She struggled against the rope, but he could hear a hint of laughter behind her words.

“Not yet.”

He pulled her toward him, right between his widespread knees, and slid his fist up to the honda to keep the rope from slipping loose. He didn't want her to run. Not this time.

Her hot brown eyes stared down at him. The anger in her expression was mixed with a touch of fear and a hint of excitement, and all those things made him rethink his plan of revenge. He'd hurt her. Not intentionally, but he'd hurt her just the same, and she deserved better than that from him—from everyone.

But that didn't mean he planned to loosen the rope.

“What are you going to do?” she asked softly.

“For starters—” He grinned, lightly caressing her cheek. “I'm going to apologize for the investigation. If I'd known as much about you then as I know about you now, I would have known you weren't a con.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Every word. As for the charade—it's over.”

“You told Lauren?”

“I haven't had time, but I will first thing tomorrow. I know that doesn't make us exactly even, but I'm gonna look at it that way.”

She stared at the rope, at his fist holding the knot against her belly. “I'm all tied up. That doesn't seem too even to me.”

“I didn't say you were out of trouble. I just said that there's no money standing between us. No charade. No job. I want
you
, Sam, for purely selfish reasons.”

“As far as apologies go, that one's somewhat acceptable. So what are you going to do now? Let me go?” she asked, struggling far too passively to make her efforts look real.

“Actually, Sam, I'm going to drive you out of your mind. Slowly. Very slowly. I'm going to make you forget about leaving. I'm going to make you beg me to stop at the same time you're begging me not to stop.”

Sam dragged in a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. He wanted her even though she'd lassoed him and pulled him off his horse. Even though she'd left him stranded out in the cold.

This wonderfully erotic thing going on between them wasn't a charade. It wasn't a job—he wanted her, really and truly wanted her.

And she wanted Jack Remington.

“You know, Jack,” she said, enjoying the feel of his fingers toying with the elastic on her panties, “this is a little, well, awkward. Wouldn't you like to just go to bed.”

He shook his head slowly. “We'll get to bed eventually, unless you holler stop. Right now, I want you right where you are.”

He hauled her a little closer, and she made no attempt to struggle. Telling him to stop was the furthest thing from her mind. Pulling the white shirt from her hands, he tugged it from under the rope and threw it behind him. His gaze blazed over her body and she felt herself begin to tremble.

Reaching out, he hooked a finger under one bra strap and she could feel the heat of his knuckle as it slid over her skin, all the way down to the cup.

She swallowed hard as he stared at the silk covering her breasts, at the pale white skin of her stomach, and the tiny triangle of diapha
nous green fabric that masqueraded as intimate lingerie.

“Are those the panties and bra you swore I'd never see you in?” he asked.

She nodded slowly, and smiled. “All three hundred and twenty dollars' worth.”

His gaze trailed back up to her eyes. “Do they only come in green?”

“I remember seeing them in pink. They were in yellow and lavender, too.”

He traced the plunging top of the bra, his rough fingertip burning her tender, oh-so-sensitive flesh. “Call the store tomorrow,” he ordered. “Tell them to send you a set of each—overnight FedEx—and charge them to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I like them. I like looking at you in them.”

He let the rope drop between them and slipped his hands over the soft curve of her bottom. His head lowered, and he slid the tip of his tongue along the top edge of the panties. Her insides throbbed, and she reached out and wrapped her hands around his neck to keep from crumpling.

He caressed her thighs from the outside to the inside, his fingers tantalizing her senses, making her throb with desire as they reached between her legs and skimmed slowly over
the silk that was so thin he might as well have been touching her skin.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms and her legs quivered. A deep, pulsing need rumbled inside her.

“Make love to me,” she begged.

“That's what we're doing, Sam. Very slowly.” He leaned back in the chair, casually watching her breasts rise and fall. “Now, why don't you take off your bra.”

“Wouldn't you like to do it for me?”

One eyebrow rose as he shook his head. “I want to watch.”

Breathing became difficult. She'd never done a striptease before, never let a man study her body—but she was enjoying every moment.

She took one step away from the intense heat of his body, but not so far that he couldn't reach out and grab her if she succumbed to the euphoria that was making her weak. Her eyes trailed down his dusty shirt, to the big silver buckle he wore, and even lower. She could see that he was more than ready, yet he was trying to look cool and in control.

He'd started this little game. But it was one she could play just as well.

Slowly, she drew one bra strap over her shoulder until it dangled at her elbow. She did the same with the second, watching the way
his eyes burned as they traveled from her face, to her shoulders, to her breasts. His Adam's apple rose and fell in time with his chest. She circled her silk-covered nipple with her index and middle finger, and listened to his sudden intake of breath.

She couldn't believe she was doing these things, but she wanted to do them—for Jack.

For herself.

Seduction was much more fun than she'd ever imagined.

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and drew them out slowly, then ran them over her chin, along her neck, between her breasts and all the way down to the top of her panties. “Want more?” she asked, swirling them around her navel.

A slow smile touched his lips as he nodded.

She reached behind her and released the hook on her bra, then let the silk drift down to the floor. Heat rushed through her face when he looked at her like a man ready to consume every ounce of her flesh. He reached out, and she stepped back. “No touching, Jack. Not yet.”

“I thought this was my little game.”

“This isn't a game,” she said, cupping her breasts in her hands, swirling her thumbs over her nipples. “It's foreplay.” She licked her lips. “Stand up, Jack.”

He rose slowly, his eyes following the movement of her fingers.

“Take off your shirt,” she instructed. “It's my turn to watch.”

With agonizingly slow movements, his fingers moved down the buttons, releasing each one, then tugging the shirt from his body. The light from the fire she'd lit in the hearth glimmered on his skin. Muscles rippled on a hard, flat stomach. They bulged in his arms, recounting years of wrestling bulls, roping steers, and working from sunup until sundown.

Game playing ceased to be fun once her body began to ache with need. She wanted him to wrap her up in his arms. Wanted him to carry her to bed.

She beckoned him with the curl of her finger.

But he didn't move. He just stood there, staring at her, his eyes growing hotter by the moment. It was her turn to swallow, and she knew she'd just lost all control of the game.

“Come here,” he said, his voice deep and raw.

Like a woman in a trance she moved toward him. His big, rough hands spread over her belly and wrapped around her waist, and before she knew what had happened he swept her up in his arms.

“Is this what you want, Sam?”

She nodded, as he laid her down on the bed
and straddled her thighs. She could feel the leather of his boots at her calves, could feel his jeans brushing her skin. His big silver belt buckle gleamed in the light from the bed lamp.

He caressed her breasts and lowered his body over hers. The instant their lips touched, sparks flew. Great, huge soaring bolts of electricity that could easily set the room on fire.

Cold silver rubbed against her belly, while Jack's warm hands swept down her sides and whispered over her legs. In one swift movement he spread them apart and pulled them over his shoulders.

He looked up at her and grinned. “Hold on tight, Sam. You're in for the ride of your life.”

Even if she'd wanted to protest, she couldn't. She lost all control the moment his fingers pushed her panties aside and his dangerously hot tongue swirled over the very center of her being.

She latched on to his hair like a pair of reins, but instead of pulling him to a stop, she gave him leeway to do whatever he wanted.

What he wanted, apparently, was to drive her out of her mind as his teeth nipped gently, and his tongue circled her over, and over, and over again.

“Make love to me,” she begged for the second time, but he looked up at her and laughed.

“We've been making love since you pulled me off Pecos's back today.” He licked her again. “Keep begging, Sam. I'll know when it's time to stop.”

She could feel the pad of his thumb against her, rubbing, teasing, while his mouth ravaged her and made her buck.

A moan escaped from down deep in her throat, and he looked up at her. “You like that?” he asked, watching her eyes.

She nodded.

He did it again and again and when he didn't think she could take any more, he rose, pulled her panties from her legs, and released his belt buckle.

She was gasping for breath when she raised up on her elbows and watched him unzipping his jeans. “Oh, God, Jack. Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Not yet.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rid himself of his boots and every last stitch of clothing. He'd thought about dragging her into the shower with him, but he was about ready to burst, and all he wanted was to press her into the bed and bury himself inside of her.

Jerking open the drawer in the bedside table, he searched for a foil pouch. He found a
cigar, a lighter, and a set of keys, but the damned condoms were missing.

“Hell!”

“What's wrong?” she asked, sitting up in bed beside him.

“No condoms.”

“Never fear.” She slipped off the bed and strolled slowly across the room as if he could hold on forever. She had him so turned on he was afraid he was going to explode just watching her.

The moonlight flooding the room glistened on her body, over every silken curve as she bent over and fumbled through that damn black tote she always carried around. Finally, she turned and smiled. “I got these on the way to the airport—just in case.”

She held a black box in her hands, and when she dumped it upside down condoms rained onto the floor. She scooped one up and tossed it to him, then walked with that sexy and provocative sway toward him. Her breasts bounced, her thighs rubbed together, and he drew in a deep breath.

She plucked the pouch from his hands. “May I?”

He chuckled low. “Be my guest.” He tried not to lose himself in the feel of her fingers working the condom over every hard inch of him, cupping him, squeezing him, rubbing her
hand up and down over him while her naked hips gyrated right in front of his eyes.

When she was done, she crawled ever so slowly onto the bed and held out her arms. “I'm ready, Jack.”

He loved her.

All doubts had just flown out of his mind.

Stretching over her, he captured her mouth, tasting her sweetness, and nudged her legs apart. He felt her wrap them around his waist, felt her fingers nestling into his hair as he eased himself into her, and with a rhythm as old as time, he began a leisurely, gentle lovemaking.

This was more than lust and desire, it was the need to hold on to someone who made him feel so damn good that she pushed sanity and reason and everything else right out of his head.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, cupping his face in her hands as she lay beneath him with a smile on her face.

“I was just thinking how good it feels being inside of you.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Drive me crazy, Jack. Think later, okay?”

He laughed, and rolled over so she was straddling him. “Why don't you show me how well you learned to ride today.”

With a grin that touched his heart and made him feel as if he'd swelled a good inch or two more, she moved up and down on top of him in the most graceful, fluid motion he'd ever seen, while waving one arm in the air like she was queen of the rodeo.