Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) (19 page)

* * *

T
he next night, Sunday, Kim went to bed early, worn out in many delicious ways.

When she’d left the ranch after sex and a breakfast of blackberry pie and coffee, eager to get to work on her winged umbrella idea, Ty had asked when they’d get together again. She’d said, “I’ll give you a call.” She wanted to be with him but her brain said she needed to spend time away from his seductive influence, and decide whether this was a good idea.

Lust, casual sex, it was all so unlike her. She wouldn’t be dumb like his birth mom and blow the whole thing out of proportion. A romance between her and Ty wasn’t something either of them would consider. Besides, she had UmbrellaWings—that was the name she’d decided on—to work on, which she did all day, growing more excited every minute. Maybe the smartest move would be to concentrate on work and forget about the cowboy.

When Kim dropped into bed at nine, she stretched achy muscles and thought enviously of Ty’s Jacuzzi. Of Ty in that Jacuzzi with her . . . No, she couldn’t daydream. She needed to finish the second third of
Ride Her, Cowboy
.

Nineteen

P
ropped up on pillows, Kim studied the half-naked cowboy on the cover and remembered the waitress asking Ty if he was a cover model. Giggling, she opened the book.

Another evening on the range, sitting around a campfire. The days had a sameness. The same men were driving the same cattle across lonely, spectacular country, then gathering by the fire to eat and drink. Yet Marty’s journalist brain was attuned to the details.

Len, the cowboy who turned out gourmet fare over the fire, was the oldest of the bunch. Though he never complained, he hobbled when he climbed off his horse at the end of the day. She’d asked him if he was okay and he’d said, “Old bones, Marty. We’re none of us as young as we used to be. Just glad I can still be doin’ this.”

She also noticed when Dirk told Len to stop hogging the frying pan and let him cook them all Sloppy Joes. He hadn’t said a word about the older man’s frailty; he let him keep his dignity.

The food Dirk produced tasted just fine too, with a bite of spicy pepper that had them all reaching for their beer. It seemed Dirk was competent at pretty much everything.

Though he was the boss and a natural-born leader, he worked harder than any of the others—and none of them were slackers. Dirk saw everything and dealt with it: a steer with a mind of its own, a horse that developed a limp, a journalist who had fallen behind as she changed lenses on her camera. When a calf cut its legs on rocks, he roped it and brought it down, then tended to the cuts, his hands deft and gentle.

Kim smiled. Dirk sounded a lot like Ty. No wonder Marty admired him.

Dirk was finally talking to her. Last night, things had changed. In the beginning there’d been mutual lust but he’d seen her as an annoyance, maybe an adversary, and she’d been on guard. Now, there was mutual respect—as well as the lust.

Today, she’d ridden beside him off and on, asking questions about the cowboy way of life in this modern age. He talked about how ranching today differed from that of the past. She learned about types of cattle, markets, the impact of Mad Cow disease, dietary and cuisine trends, the kinds of jobs and people that made up an operation like his.

She learned other things from her own observations. His hired men were more than just employees; they were a family of sorts. Each man had strengths and weaknesses, and so long as they were loyal to Dirk, he’d support them.

Cattle ranching was more than a business, it was a way of life for these men. One that was threatened by a number of factors, and struggling to adapt and survive. Dirk told her that cattle drives like this were virtually a thing of the past, but at the Lazy Z, they liked to do some things the traditional way.

“That article of yours,” he’d said, “what was that title again?”

“The Modern-Day Heroes of the West.”

“That’s the kind of thing gets my back up. We’re not heroes. Not fools either, though some folks call us that. We’re just people doin’ something we love, tryin’ to make a decent living and provide for our families. We’re no different from anyone else.”

She mused on that now as she gazed at Dirk in the dancing firelight. Tonight, she’d deliberately not sat beside him. Her attraction to him was so strong, how could she resist touching him? But it wouldn’t be good for either of them if his men knew that the boss and the journalist were having a fling.

A fling.
It sounded like such a frivolous thing, out here where everything was timeless and elemental. “Frivolous” was the last word a person would apply to Dirk Zamora. What was he doing with her?

What was she doing with him? Somehow, it didn’t feel like just sex anymore.

She picked thoughtfully at the label on her beer bottle. On day one, it had been sex, period. Last night, there’d been respect and liking. Now it was day three, and she felt more than liking. She was beginning to care about this man.

It was different than when she’d fallen for her soldier in Afghanistan. There, people could die any moment. It gave everything an edge, an intensity. Lust and love had come hand in hand, strong and sudden and overwhelming. Changing everything.

Out here on the range, the feelings had crept up on her over the course of the past three days as she observed Dirk, talked to him, made love with him. She shouldn’t allow herself to care. He didn’t feel the same way. To him, she was a passing amusement.

Except . . . that took her back to where she’d started. Dirk wasn’t frivolous. Was it possible she meant something to him? And if that was true, what on earth might they do about it?

Kim shook her head. Marty wasn’t a naïve kid. She knew better than to fall for a man whose lifestyle was totally different. In the Lady Emma novel the club had read, Emma had kept a practical head on her shoulders even as she’d reveled in the Comte de Vergennes’s sexual attention. Kim could now relate to the allure of a cowboy, but a woman had to be ruled by her brain, not by lust or romantic notions. Unlike Ty’s birth mother.

She read on, to another hot sex scene. As Dirk stimulated Marty with his fingers and tongue, Kim thought of Ty and the things they’d done together. Her body humming with need, she slipped her hand between her legs to where the flesh was tender from lovemaking. When she stroked herself, she imagined the callused pads of Ty’s big fingers.

Hmm
.
Maybe there’d be no harm in seeing him again.

* * *

K
im spent much of Monday working on UmbrellaWings and was buzzing with excitement when she headed off to book club. Yes, she wanted to discuss the book, but she also wanted to get her friends’ input on her business concept.

It was Lily’s turn to pick the location. Kim enjoyed seeing what each woman came up with. They had somewhat different tastes, but were willing to experiment. Kim had discovered some great places. What a pity she’d soon be leaving this city.

This afternoon, they were meeting at the lounge at MARKET in the Shangri-La hotel on Alberni Street. Classy, as Lily’s choices usually were. Walking toward the entrance, Kim saw Marielle hurrying toward her.

“Have you been making art?” she asked the other woman. Marielle’s pink tee had splotches of paint on it.

“If finger painting with preschoolers counts.”

Finger painting with a naked adult male was a lot more fun! She bit her tongue and instead said, “Preschoolers? Do you have a new job?” Marielle was forever changing jobs.

“I’m a substitute nanny. This girl I know’s a nanny and she has to take time off to go to the Philippines and help look after her grandmother, who’s having a hip replacement. I’m filling in. The dad’s a lawyer and the mom’s an architect with a home office. As long as she isn’t disturbed between eight thirty and four, she’s flexible about the rest. Like letting me come to book club or go out most evenings.”

“Sounds perfect for you.” Marielle was vivacious, generous, and fun; kids must love her.

“The tough part is playing the disciplinarian, but believe it or not, I’m okay at it. I just remind myself that it’s in the kids’ best interests to learn about structure, rules, boundaries.”

“You sound like my parents,” Kim complained. Then she admitted, “But yeah, I agree. I’m kind of surprised you do, though.”

Marielle winked. “You need to learn the rules as a kid, so when you’re a grown-up you can choose just how you want to break them.”

“Like having blackberry pie for breakfast.”

“Ooh, you’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” Marielle teased.

Laughing, they walked into the elegant, simply decorated lounge, where purple orchids graced each table. Lily and George were perusing menus. Blond Lily was dressed in her usual classy but drab tailored style, and redheaded George wore a green and white patterned blouse with her sage green suit. Both looked like they belonged here, and Kim didn’t feel too out of place in leggings and one of her floaty tops. Marielle’s paint-splattered tee sure wasn’t standard attire, but she was so confident, nothing intimidated her.

After greeting each other, they ordered drinks. As always, Lily had a martini, George went with wine, and Marielle picked a fruity cocktail. Kim decided to change things up and not select a fancy beer. Instead, she picked a sparkling wine called Prosecco Breganze Rosa di Sera, simply because the name was so great. For snacks, they chose sushi, Thai chicken wings, and a small pizza topped with tomato, mozzarella, and basil.

Orders placed, Lily said, “Kim, you’ve caught up on the reading?”

“Yes. I’m sorry about last week.” She glanced around. “How do you like the book?”

“It’s different than Lady Emma,” George said. “Emma knew she had no future with the Comte, and never developed strong feelings for him. But Marty’s falling in love.”

“This is the interesting thing about reading erotica,” Marielle said, “rather than erotic romance.”

“What?” Kim asked. “There’s a difference?”

The brunette nodded vigorously. “In romance, you know they’ll end up together. With erotica, there’s more suspense. It’s all about the woman’s sexual journey—like, think of Lady Emma and the Comte. The heroine may or may not end up with the guy, or guys, who’re her partners on that journey.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lily said. “I’ll get on the Internet and read more about the distinction. But for now,” she went on briskly, “focusing on our book, I think it’s foolish of Marty to fall for Dirk. There’s no future for those two, any more than there was for Emma and the Comte.”

“I agree,” Kim said. “They live in different worlds, and she should be sensible enough to recognize it.”

“Wow,” George said. “Two cynics. Lily, who’s happily married—”

“Lily,” the blonde said, “who knows Marty and Dirk aren’t destined for a romantic happily ever after.”

“O-kay.” George’s brows arched. “Kim, you too? You’re all about commitment and long-term relationships.”

Kim’s cheeks warmed. She grabbed the flute glass of bubbly pinkish-peach liquid the waiter put in front of her and took a gulp. The flavor promptly distracted her. “Oh my, that’s yummy.” She lifted the glass again, smelling peaches and berries and maybe roses, and took another appreciative sip. It was so summery, and she loved the bubbles.

When she put the glass down, she realized the other three women had tasted their own drinks and were waiting for her to respond to George’s question. “Yes, I think love and marriage are what really count.” She glanced at Marielle. “I know you like getting to know different men and don’t want to settle down, but I want a life partner.” A Hong Kong man who looked, and made love, like Ty Ronan.

“And because you don’t think Marty’ll find that with Dirk,” Marielle said, “you don’t think she should sleep with him?”

With Ty on her mind, Kim thought about her answer. “Maybe there are times in a woman’s life when it’s good to not think seriously. To have fun, enjoy the moment. Without giving your heart the way Marty’s in danger of doing. Then, after, you both move on and no one gets hurt.”

“Hey,” Marielle said. “I didn’t think you related to that, girlfriend.”

“Live and learn, I guess.” Speaking of which . . . “You can learn different things about yourself by doing different things and knowing different people, right? Having no-strings sex can help you figure out your own sexuality and what you ultimately want out of a relationship.”

“Well said,” Lily commented.

“That reminds me of the Amish book we read,” George said. “Where the young people have that
rumspringa
time. They get to do things that adult members of the community aren’t allowed to, and figure out who they really are.”

Lily nodded. “So they can decide whether to be baptized into the community or to leave.”

Marielle giggled. “Me, I’ve declared
rumspringa
for my whole life.”

“That’s not for me.” Kim glanced around the table at the three women. A year ago, she hadn’t met them. For the first few months of book club, they’d mostly talked about the books, then personal bits slipped in. Their discussions turned from purely literary to discussing the themes in the books, topics like male-female relationships. Yes, she now thought of these women as friends. Though it wasn’t her habit to discuss intimate emotions, she would value their opinions on her and Ty. She hadn’t made up her mind whether to see him again.

Besides, maybe she wanted to, for once, be the one to shock them. “I have six weeks before I go back to Hong Kong—”

“No, is it that soon?” George broke in. “Oh Kim, we’ll miss you.”

“You can’t go,” Marielle said. “We won’t let you.”

Kim smiled in gratitude, then leaned back as their appetizers were served.

They all dove in, then Lily asked, “Kim, what were you saying?”

She pressed her lips together, then released them in a smile. “I think I’m declaring a Chinese
rumspringa
.”

“Way to go!” Marielle said. “I could hook you up with some great guys.”

“No, thanks. I found my own. You’re not the only one who likes hot cowboys.”

Lily’s pale blue eyes widened, George almost choked on a bite of sushi, and Marielle whooped. “After Blake and I left the bar, you and Ty got it on! And you didn’t tell us?”

“I felt like I’d done something slutty. I mean, not that I think you hooking up with Blake was slutty, but that’s not me. Or it never has been. My parents would definitely think it was slutty.” She frowned, then brushed that thought away. A six-week Chinese
rumspringa
made sense to her, and her parents would never find out. “Anyhow, Ty got in touch, we had dinner Friday, then I went out to his ranch, rode a horse—”

“Rode Ty,” the irrepressible Marielle broke in.

“In a Stetson,” a devil made Kim say. Then, “No, sorry, it was a Resistol. Rodeo cowboys wear Resistols because that company’s a big sponsor of rodeo. They wear Wrangler jeans for the same reason.”

“You,” Lily said, “are a big surprise.”

Another flash of doubt made Kim bite her lip. “You don’t think I’m slutty?”

“You couldn’t be slutty if you tried,” Lily said.