Hell on Heels (12 page)

“Because . . . because . . .” She realized she had no answer when he phrased it like that.

“I want you. You want me. It can't get much simpler than that.”

 

There was a look of uncertainty in her eyes that made his chest tighten. He didn't know what it was about Monica that got under his skin. Sure she was smart, and sexy as hell, but he'd been with other smart and sexy women who didn't drive him to the brink of insanity. One minute she'd given him an erotic show, and in the next instant she'd turned to ice. He'd never had to work so hard for it, but Monica challenged him in every possible way—and he never backed down from a challenge. He sure as shit didn't understand what she was so afraid of, but if it meant taking it slow and easy, he was good with that.

He kissed her then, not just to seduce, although there was certainly some of that in the mix, but also to soothe and ease her doubts. He claimed her lips in a way that reassured as much as ravished, taking down her defenses with gentle but persistent persuasion.

She moaned softly into his mouth as he reached down to stroke between her wet thighs, probing two fingers inside her. Her inner muscles squeezed and her body shuddered. He watched her face as he prodded his shaft between her thighs.

Continuing to kiss and coax, he slowly entered her, advancing by torturously slow inches, stretching and filling her until he was seated to the hilt. Their gazes remained locked as he remained motionless, waiting and pulsing deep inside her. Just when he thought he couldn't hold back any longer, she wrapped her legs around his flanks, urging him with a needy sound that made him want to pump to a fast, hard climax. But he still held back, rocking his hips in measured and deliberate undulations, withdrawing and thrusting slow and shallow, then hard and deep, watching her face, her eyes, keeping in tune with her every response, needing to make her come beneath him.

Her sighs morphed into pants. Her hands squeezed his ass as she met every stroke. He meant to punish her for making him work so damned hard, but her moans and sounds of pleasure nearly broke him.

“Let it go, Monica. I can fuck you all night if I have to. I'm not gonna stop until you scream.” He thrust harder, deeper, driving her into the mattress. “Give it up,” he growled, his balls throbbing for release.

Her body tensed. She sucked in a gasp. Her eyes widened and then fluttered shut on a long shrill cry as orgasmic tremors overtook her.

He groaned, his body racking with jolts of pleasure as her walls contracted and convulsed in aftershocks that brought him to his own finish.

When he rolled off, he found her watching him with the soft smile of a well-fucked woman.
Holy shit
. She wore that look well. Too well. It overwhelmed him with the desire to do it to her all over again. Wasn't once supposed to have been the cure? This was supposed to be just another mindless recreational fuck. So why the hell did it feel like something more?

M
onica awoke to the pungent scent of sex—sheets scented with their mutual musk and a pillow that still bore the indent of his head. He was gone without even waking her? She rolled over with a groan, burying her face into her own pillow. Why, oh why had she done it? And what the hell was she going to do now?

She realized she was in real danger of falling for a man who wasn't willing to offer her anything beyond great sex. It was obvious by his abrupt departure that she was nothing more to Ty than a convenient bedmate, but mind-blowing sex wasn't enough. She needed more. She wanted to love and be loved. It was the only thing she'd ever truly wanted.

She buzzed housekeeping for clean linen and then ripped the sheets from the bed. Minutes later she was under a steamy shower, washing away the last, lingering reminders of the best night she'd ever had. She hated this feeling of insecurity, of being emotionally invested without any return, but Ty had made it clear. He hadn't even tried to hedge about it. He was an unapologetic player. They'd had a great night together, but it was done now. Time to move on. He surely had.

 

An hour later her driver pulled into The Oasis. Monica sucked in a breath at the sight of Ty's truck in the parking lot. So that explained why he'd sneaked out, but it still irked her that he hadn't woken her first. It just seemed like the right thing for him to do. Then again, what would she have said to him? Thanks for the multiple orgasms? She realized she wasn't ready to see him or talk to him, so she sat there stupidly, waffling with indecision. Should she just leave and hope he hadn't seen her?

Frankie put the car in
PARK
.

“Wait a minute.” She stalled as he reached for the door.

“Something wrong, Ms. Brandt?”

“I think I forgot my phone.” She grabbed her purse, pretending to rummage. “Damn! It's not here. We need to go back to the hotel.”

She startled at a light rap on the limo window. She looked up to find Ty standing there.
Damn.

“You know him?” Frankie asked.

“Yes, Frankie. He's a”—
Business associate? Lover?
She settled for—“friend.”

Frankie lowered the window.

“Good morning to you, Ms. Brandt.” Ty greeted her with a smug smile.

“Wh-why are you here?” she asked.

His brows rose. “Excuse me? I brought Rosa to see Tom. Remember? I mentioned it last night.”

“Right. Sorry.” She'd forgotten all about Tom's housekeeper.

“A bit
preoccupied
this morning, Ms. Brandt?”

“Jackass,” she hissed.

He actually had the balls to laugh. “Can I buy you breakfast?” He looked at his watch. “Or maybe I should have said lunch. Guess you were real tired, huh?”

“Stop it, Ty. You're not funny. And I don't have time today. I have some things to take care of.”

“Later, then? You free for dinner?” he asked. “You haven't had much chance to see the town since you've been here.”

Why was he acting so damned normal when she could barely keep it together?

“Thanks, Ty, but Frankie here has already offered to show me around. Besides, I'm busy tonight.” Another lie, but she resisted any notion of spending more time with Ty.

His mouth compressed. “I can see where this is heading. You're giving me the brush-off.”

“It's not personal, Ty. I just think it's better if we get back on a more professional footing.”

“Not personal? Of course it's personal. We just spent a whole night—”

She silenced him with a glare. “Please don't.”

“So this is really how you want it to be?”

She drew a long breath. “Yes, Ty. It's what I want.” She'd already made herself too vulnerable to him and had to find some way to reestablish a comfortable distance.

“All right, then. Have it your way.” Ty returned a curt nod, tipped his hat, and strode off.

There was no way in hell she'd ever be able to maintain a credible act of indifference if they had dinner together, but watching him walk away left a lump in her throat that she couldn't quite swallow back down.

 

Ty climbed into his truck and slammed the door. He'd pictured a lot of different things happening when he saw Monica again, but rejection sure as hell wasn't one of them. Maybe he didn't believe in relationships, but at least he'd always tried to let women down easy. Monica, however, had dropped him like a bad habit. And he hadn't even seen it coming. He'd never had a woman refuse a dinner after a fantastic fuck. Hell, he'd never had a woman refuse him anything, and it stung like a sonofabitch.

He had his hand on the ignition when his phone buzzed.

“Ty here,” he growled.

“And hello to you too,” an irritatingly familiar voice purred.

Damn
. Why hadn't he looked at the caller ID? “What's up, Delaney?”

“I have some good news for you.”

“What kind? Did we suddenly strike oil?”

“Not
that
good, but still promising.”

She had his interest now. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“I told you I'd make some calls about the hotel, and I did. I just heard back from Uncle Phil. You met him at our wedding reception. Do you remember?”

“Not really. There were a lot of people there.” And he'd had a lot to drink.

“Well, he isn't really my uncle, I guess he's more of a godfather, but he's loaded and loves to gamble. He belongs to one of those junket clubs and travels everywhere. He's interested in investing, Ty. He wants to see your proposal.”

Ty considered his options. Given Tom's improvement, he could probably move forward with his plans, whether Monica liked it or not. He doubted she'd overrule him if he pressed the issue with Tom, but the trouble was, Ty really didn't want to do that to the ol' man. It felt too much like forcing him to choose sides. On top of that, Monica was still Tom's proxy, which meant he'd still have to work with her if they moved forward—and that only spelled trouble. Buying her out really was the best option, if he could come to some kind of financial arrangement he could live with. Taking on a partner was a hell of a lot better prospect than reporting to a board of directors. It seemed this was worth exploring.

“I'll get on it ASAP, Delaney. I already have estimates, and the architect I consulted a while back did some conceptual drawings. How soon do you need me to send them?”

“You don't need to, Ty. He wants to fly out and meet you. Uncle Phil's one of those old-time handshake Texans. You know the kind. If he likes you it's already a done deal.”

“You're shittin' me.”

She chuckled. “Nope. Are you free this weekend?”

“Yeah. Or I can be. Hell! I almost forgot the bull-riding finals. It's the last round before the world championships.”

“Even better,” Delaney said. “Think you can get him VIP seating?”

“I can pull some strings.”

“Great. He's got a private jet. We'll fly in.”

“We?”
Ty repeated with dread.

“Of course! I'm part of this deal too, Ty. Besides, I've got two bulls entered in the futurity.”

“You do? Funny you didn't mention that when I was out there.”

“Why should I? You don't take any interest in the operation.”

“That's why they call it a
silent
partner. But that doesn't mean I don't want to know what's going on.”

He'd auctioned off the livestock before he'd handed the ranch over to Delaney. He'd never expected her to stay there, let alone start a breeding program for bucking bulls. Although her family owned a huge spread, outside of horses her father and brothers had never let her handle livestock. Ty wondered if her interest in bulls was just another form of rebellion against them—like marrying him had been.

“Fine, Ty,” she said. “We have two promising young bulls that are going to buck like a sonofagun when that gate flies open. Happy now?”

“You planning to sell 'em?”

“Yup. That's the plan . . . unless you've decided you want to get back into stock contracting.”

“Nope.” He rejected that suggestion out of hand. “My days on the road are over.”

“Can't say I'm sorry to hear that. Your liver can't be too sorry about it either.”

“There you go again, nagging the shit out of me. When are you coming, and where do you plan to stay?”

“We'll fly in tomorrow. You can put Uncle Phil in the owner's suite. I'll take whatever you've got available.”

Shit.
Monica had the owner's suite.

“Is there a problem, Ty?” Delaney asked.

“No. Nothing I can't figure out. I guess I'm gonna owe you for this.”

“You will, Ty. Big-time. But there's a way you can repay the favor.”

“And how's that?” he asked warily.

“We'll talk about it when I get there. See you tomorrow. Bye, Ty.”

She ended the call before he could respond.

Ty pocketed the phone, raking his hair with a groan. What the hell was he going to do about Monica? Evict her? He'd have to figure something out. And pretty damned quick.

He also had to get in touch with Cassie. He needed those sketches, and he hadn't even seen them yet. At this late notice he'd have to do major ass-kissing to get them. Not that he'd ever minded that when a woman had a decent ass. Cassie's wasn't half bad, but Monica's was too damned kissable. He'd explored it thoroughly last night and sure wouldn't mind doing it again.

In Ty's experience, the best way to forget one woman was always to move on to the next. He'd phone Cassie and get those sketches. Maybe he'd get lucky and get laid, too.

 

“Hold on, Frankie,” Monica said once Ty climbed into his truck. “I think I can survive a short while without the phone. I'm not going to be here all that long.”

“You sure about that, Ms. Brandt? If you know where it is I could always go get it for you.”

“No thanks, Frankie. I'd hate to put you to the trouble. The world won't end if I have to wait an hour or two to reply to a text or return a call.” She looked at her watch. “Why don't you grab yourself some lunch and plan to pick me up around two.”

Frankie smiled. “Sure thing.”

Monica knocked softly before entering Tom's room, but they must not have heard her. A woman she didn't recognize was sitting by his side, holding his hand and murmuring softly in Spanish. Monica picked up a few words that sounded like endearments. Was this Rosa? Who else could it be? She was younger and more attractive than Monica had expected. Ty had told her she was Tom's housekeeper. Monica wondered now about the truth of that. The scene she'd interrupted implied a very different kind of relationship.

Monica cleared her throat to announce herself. The woman startled and stood, with an almost guilty look. Monica advanced to the bedside, hand extended. “You must be Rosa. I'm Monica.” She leaned down to give her father a peck on the cheek while Rosa looked on with an uncertain smile.

“You have your father's eyes,” Rosa remarked after a moment. “Señor Tomás, you have such a beautiful daughter. I've heard so much about you, Monica,” Rosa gushed. “Your papi is very proud of you.”

Monica flushed, not knowing how to respond. She'd never felt comfortable accepting compliments or praise. She changed the subject. “How was your trip out here?”

“It was long,” Rosa sighed. “But still better than flying. I do
not
fly.”

“So I heard. Are you comfortably settled?” Monica asked.

“Yes . . . for now. I am staying at Señor Ty's place, but I hate to inconvenience him as I do not drive.” Rosa looked to Tom. There was something almost complicit in their exchange of glances. “We wondered if I might be able to stay someplace . . . closer.”

“Closer?” Monica realized she didn't even know where Ty lived.

It suddenly struck her how little she actually knew about the man she'd spent an incredible night with—and then snubbed the next morning. She really hadn't intended it to play out like it had, but he'd acted so damned nonchalant that she hadn't known how else to react.

“
Sí
. Is it possible some arrangement could be made for me to care for him here?”

“I don't think that's possible, Rosa, but we could certainly look to find you someplace nearby.” Monica looked to her father.

He scowled back at her and tapped on his iPad.
Want Rosa here.

“I don't think they'll allow that, Tom,” Monica replied. “Even the staff don't reside here.”

He tapped back angrily.
Want home.

“The doctors don't think that's a good idea yet.”

“Die? Please don't even think like that.”

Her greatest fear was that it might come to pass. Although her heart ached to keep him in Las Vegas when he so desperately yearned to go home, the ranch was too far removed from any medical facility. If he returned to Oklahoma and had another episode, he wouldn't survive it, even with private nursing care. If he had to stay here against his will, she was determined to do all in her power to make him comfortable. “Please try to be patient, Tom, and I'll see what I can do about Rosa.”