A Very Tempting Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: The Missing Mogul) (2 page)

She buried her face in his shoulder, as he stroked her hair. They were so close, his belt buckle dug into her belly. But she wouldn’t have put an inch between them, even if he had allowed it. Being with him again filled a gaping hole in her heart she had not even allowed herself to acknowledge.

“I made it very clear to you that we were finished,” she said, sifting her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck.

She felt his chuckle rumble through his chest. “I never did like being told what to do.”

He tugged up her chin so he could see her face. She wanted to hide, sure that her emotions were painted there for him to see. Did he really think he could use sex to persuade her to cooperate? “I don’t understand you,” she said, searching for any palatable explanation for his sudden reappearance in her life. The little crinkles at the corners of his eyes were smile lines.

“I’m a pretty simple guy. And I know what I want.”

The unspoken subtext was making her brain hurt. How was a woman supposed to protect her heart when the man talked in riddles? She longed to believe that he wanted
her
, but she had been that gullible once before and had suffered not only a broken heart, but a serious blow to her pride as well. She pulled back, smoothing her hair with shaking hands. “I have work to do,” she said.

“I’m going with you to the ranch.” His tone brooked no argument.

Their gazes locked—hers wary and uncertain, his impossible to read. She shrugged helplessly. “Suit yourself. But you’ll be bored.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth that made her knees embarrassingly weak. “I’m a big boy, Shannon. I can take care of myself.”

* * *

She kept tabs on him in her rearview mirror as he followed her closely all the way home. When she parked in front of the ranch house, she grimaced, suddenly seeing it through the eyes of an outsider. Keeping this place afloat took all the ingenuity she possessed. Because of mistakes she had made due to inexperience, there wasn’t much money available right now for aesthetic improvements. In the unforgiving light of midday, the old homestead couldn’t hide its peeling paint.

It had been a dry spring, and everything, scrubby bushes included, had a coating of fine dust. To Shannon, the Bar None was home, and thus she never really examined it or found fault. Now, though, she could see that at first glance, it didn’t make a stellar impression. But finances were on the upswing, and soon she would have the books back where they had been when her dad died.

Rory might actually believe he was doing her a favor when he offered to buy her property, but though she had been tempted to give up many times in the last few years, she knew she couldn’t. She had almost lost the ranch once. The creditors had been breathing down her neck. Only sheer grit and determination had kept things afloat. With her parents gone, she had learned a valuable lesson. Land and heritage were permanent...and in the end, the only things that mattered.

But now this wretchedly handsome cowboy seemed determined to coax her into selfish, irresponsible behavior that could make her stray from the path she had set for herself. Whether that meant indulging in casual sex or abandoning her beliefs about her duty to the ranch, the end result was the same.

Rory was dangerous.

The two of them met up on the front porch. He held a small duffel bag. “Make yourself at home,” she said, the words short and stilted. “The bedroom at the top of the stairs, first door on the right, is a guest room if you want to change clothes. You’ll find sandwich fixings in the fridge.”

He grabbed her wrist when she turned to walk away. “You haven’t eaten lunch.”

“I have things to do.”

* * *

She went about her routine on autopilot, desperately aware that Rory was in her house. In...her...house. Dear Lord. Even as she chatted with her foreman, made sure feed orders were processed and called a breeder about renting out one of her stud bulls, her mind was only half-engaged.

She’d told herself righteously that she would not be used simply because Rory needed to establish a residence in the district. He had enough money to persuade
somebody
to sell, but would she really shoot him down if that was all he wanted from her? Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to turn him away. Spending the night in his arms—well...
nights
plural—had been the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. Rory Fentress was focused and driven, whether in regard to his career or in proving to a woman that she was the most desirable female he’d ever met.

Those breathless hours and days in his arms had proven to her that chick flick movies and steamy romance novels were not entirely fiction. Turns out, there
were
men who could make a woman do crazy things...things like falling in love with the wrong man at the wrong time.

She snorted aloud and then winced, hoping none of her crew had overheard. She wasn’t in love with Rory Fentress...surely she wasn’t. More like an intense infatuation built on sizzling sexual attraction. Of course that didn’t explain why she ached for the man constantly. But if she ever she gave him what he wanted, there was a good chance he would walk away, leaving her with nothing. No home, and certainly no one to love.

Argh
. She was not ready for this. Not at all.

As she washed up in the mudroom and changed from her work boots into soft slippers, she found her hands trembling. What did he expect from her? Were they supposed to slip up to her bedroom and make wild passionate love in broad daylight?

Her stomach flip-flopped. Lord, give her strength.

At the kitchen, she paused in the doorway, drinking in the sight of him. He was now wearing old faded jeans, scarred cowboy boots and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Gone was the sophisticated politician. In his place was an even more virile and appealing Texas cowboy, one who had grown up in Royal, though he’d been a couple of years ahead of Shannon in school.

She forced herself to enter the room. “I’m starving. Thanks for putting this together.” He had found plates and glassware in the cupboard. The ham sandwiches were larger than she would have made, but he’d probably fixed them according to his appetite.

He held out her chair, making her feel like a lady rather than a woman who had recently worn muck-covered boots. Her throat tightened when she spotted the clear-glass mason jar in the center of her worn table. Somewhere in the yard he’d scrounged up a bouquet of halfhearted wild daisies. The water in the container had revived them a bit, but they still looked as if they were clinging to life. The gesture affected her deeply.

“Dig in,” Rory said, taking his own seat. “I suggest we call a truce for the moment. It’s too pretty a day to argue.”

They ate in silence for several minutes. He had poured her a tall glass of cold milk. Vividly, she remembered him teasing her repeatedly about her preference for the childhood beverage. He had promised to help her acquire a taste for champagne, and had fulfilled that promise by dribbling the bubbly liquid over her naked breasts and making her writhe and moan as he licked every drop from her tingling skin.

It had happened the last weekend he was in town....

She
panted
,
inches
away
from
an
exquisite
orgasm
. “
I
don’t
see
how
that
helps
,”
she
complained
. “
You
got
all
the
benefit
from
that
bottle
.”

“
All
?”
He
lifted
an
eyebrow
,
his
gaze
teasing
. “
Not
to
worry
.
I
have
more
for
you
.”
Popping
the
cork
on
a
second
bottle
,
he
poured
a
couple
of
inches
in
a
glass
and
handed
it
to
her
.
Perhaps
what
she’d
had
in
the
past
was
a
cheap
vintage
,
because
this
golden
liquid
was
like
nectar
of
the
gods
,
its
crisp
sweet
bite
rolling
over
her
tongue
like
ambrosia
.

Eyes
hooded
,
Rory
watched
her
as
she
downed
his
offering
recklessly
.
Her
little
hiccup
at
the
end
made
him
grin
.

“
I
feel
like
I’m
debauching
an
innocent
,”
he
said
,
apparently
unrepentant
.

Leaning
over
to
where
he
lay
sprawled
on
the
sheets
,
his
magnificent
body
buck
naked
,
she
tilted
the
glass
and
let
the
final
few
drops
run
out
and
fall
onto
his
semi
-
erect
sex
. “
I
may
never
drink
milk
again
,”
she
said
,
her
chest
heaving
as
she
tried
to
control
her
breathing
. “
Close
your
eyes
and
let
me
enjoy
the
last
taste
.”

* * *

Rory had served Shannon milk simply because he knew how much she liked it. But if her glazed eyes and flushed cheeks were any indication as she picked up her glass, she was remembering the one time he had convinced her that champagne had merits as well.

He shifted in his seat, surreptitiously adjusting himself beneath the table. “I thought you were hungry.”

She stared at him blankly, the drink halfway to her mouth. “I am.” She took a sip and set down the tumbler, rapidly picking up her sandwich and taking a bite. When she choked, he offered the milk again.

Waving him away, she blushed beet-red. “I’m fine. Eat your lunch.”

The food could have been cardboard in his mouth for all he noticed. His only intent was to make Shannon remember...even if reminiscing drove
him
insane. With a deep breath and a mental shake of his head, he decided it would be in both of their best interests, for the moment, to reduce the sexual tension to a more manageable simmer. She needed to understand and accept that he wanted more from her than sex.

“Tell me more about the ranch,” he said. “All I know is that your parents are gone and you run this place by yourself.”

Shannon wiped her lips with a napkin and sat back in her seat, regarding him with suspicion.

It was no wonder. The times they had been together, they’d mostly indulged in the here and now. Getting to know each other had been pushed aside in favor of laughter, kisses and feverish sex.

He was aware that she didn’t like chocolate and that she liked to sleep with the windows open, but beyond such trivialities, they had barely scratched the surface of their individual pasts. So he waited her out, his own gaze bland.

Finally she relaxed. “I’ve had the responsibility four years. Since I was twenty-six. Mom and Dad were caught in bad flash flooding while trying to rescue a calf from the creek. They were swept away and drowned.”

“I’m sorry.” His heart ached for her.

“It was pretty awful. But when I began to recover emotionally, I decided that the best thing I could do to honor their memory was to keep the Bar None alive. It came down through my mom’s side of the family. The original deed goes way back to the 1800s. I’m responsible for a lot of history.”

“I envy you,” he said simply. “I own some beautiful property outside of Austin, but it’s not the same as what you have. There are no roots.”

“Maybe not yet,” she said, with that charming tilt of her lips that had first caught his eye. When she smiled, her face went from pretty to stunningly beautiful, lit from within by a personality that was bubbly and flirty and full of fun.

He looked away for a moment, tamping down his impulse to drag her across the table. Clearing his throat, he took a long swig of his tea. “What’s your specialty here on the Bar None?” If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to have a hard time staying on track.