How to Rope a McCoy (Hell Yeah!) (32 page)

Before
he could answer, a hot whoosh of air hit Cato in the face and she could feel
vibrations on her skin. Looking up, it was obvious there had been an
explosion—a column of fire rose from the car and she screamed when she saw that
Heath and the woman lay on the ground nearby. She pushed the little girls
toward the driver. “Watch them, please.” She ran to Heath, scared to death.

“Heath!”
Kneeling beside him, she touched his face. “Look at me, please.” Feeling for a
pulse, she was relieved to find one. “Wake up!” she pleaded. “I won’t be mad at
you anymore, just be okay.”

Heath
smiled before he opened his eyes and Cato almost hit him. But she didn’t. She
knelt over, kissed his neck and cried.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Face
it, you’re a hero.” She walked out of the judge’s office beside him.

“No,
I’m not and the fact that a camera crew just happened upon us about the time
the ambulance arrived was pure luck.”

“Maybe,
but I think your bravery went a long way with the judge when he debated whether
or not to give you that injunction.”

Heath
smiled. “Didn’t hurt, did it? You were as much of a hero as I was, you saved
the little girls.”

“True,
but when the cameras arrived, all I was doing was boohooing over you.”

Walking
out of the courthouse, Heath took her by the hand and led her over to a quiet
place beneath a green awning. Judge Gomez had granted Heath’s request and
Highland Oil would continue to do business until a trial date could be set.
Zane was working up a case to refute
Arness
’ claim
but at least for now they were still in business. “I need to call Zane and let
him know what happened and check on everyone else and then we’re going to
celebrate. But before that…” Gently he walked her back against the wall,
covering her with his body. “Let’s talk about what went on in that car before
you saw the wreck.”

Cato
bowed her head. She was trying to forget. “It doesn’t matter.”

Tipping
her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, Heath answered, “Yes, it does
matter. I want to assure you that I know who I’m with. I’m aware of your
goodness, your virtue and what a damn lucky man I am that you have chosen to
allow me to know you and touch you. Being with you, loving on you is a
privilege and there is no one I’d rather be with.”

Okay,
it wasn’t a declaration of love exactly, but she would take it. “I knew you didn’t
mean it the way it sounded. It just made me think.”

Heath
planted small butterfly kisses all over her face. “When I say something to hurt
your feelings, give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m not going to intentionally
do or say anything to hurt you. I am so happy to be with you.”

“Hey,
buddy! Get a room!” someone called out.

“Hell,”
he murmured and kissed her once more. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got things
to do.”

Cato
laughed and let him lead her away. They checked into the Emily Morgan Hotel, Heath
had reserved a suite on one of the upper floors. “This is beautiful.” Cato spun
around, checking out the king size bed, the big bathroom and the beautiful view
of the Alamo.

“I’m
glad you like it. I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve arranged for the
weekend. It’s my turn to spoil you now.” As Heath had told her in the
beginning, no woman before Cato—save for his mother and sisters—had ever gone
out of her way to do something nice for him. Yet, she had put a great deal of
thought, time and money into making sure he was happy. And now he wanted to do
the same for her.

“Sounds
like we have lots of surprises in store.” She wanted to know what he had
planned, but she was more excited for him to meet his literary idol. “I have
one for you at ten in the morning.”

“Great,
then we’ll still have time to check out your herb farms and go to the orchard
before we head back to the Hill Country.”

“Deal.”
She held out her hand to shake and when he took it, she yanked him close, much like
she’d done the day she met him. “Take me dancing, cowboy.”

His
eyes shone. They were way past this. “I don’t dance…” he drawled. “But I will
hold you and let you rub up against me, anytime day or night.”

“That’s
all I ask.”

They
quickly changed clothes without too much sexual play, just a few kisses and
passing caresses which promised much for the night to come. On the way down the
elevator, she couldn’t resist sharing. “You do know who Emily Morgan was, don’t
you?” She named the person whom the hotel was named for.

“The
name rings a bell but I can’t be sure.” Even if he knew, he wouldn’t deprive
Cato of getting to tell him. She got too big of a kick out of it.

“Emily
Morgan was the Yellow Rose of Texas. According to history and legend, she was a
young indentured servant belonging to Captain James Morgan. Emily was captured
by the Mexicans and when the shout was made that the Texans were coming, Emily
was in the Mexican General Santa Ana’s tent keeping him so ‘occupied’ that he
missed answering the charge, thus falling to the Texan army. Although there
were probably more factors involved, she is attributed with playing a role in
the victory of the Texans and inspired the famous song—The Yellow Rose of
Texas.”

Heath
pulled her close. “Seems like I’ve heard that before, but I bet I know
something you don’t know.”

“What?”

“It’s
haunted, the Emily Morgan is haunted.”

Her
eyes widened and she smiled. “I love a good ghost story and a haunting, there’s
only one problem.”

“What?”

“Most
of the spooky happenings are noises and…” she pointed to her head. “That stuff
just goes in one ear and out the other.”

Heath
roared with laughter. “I love you, did you know that?” He hugged her.

He
loved her? He’d said it! But, Cato didn’t know if he even realized he’d said
it. So, she treasured his words and kept them close to her heart—just in case.

*  *  *

They
danced, they ate outstanding Mexican food at The Tequila Tree in the El
Mercado. Heath had enjoyed himself so much. While they were stopped at a booth
in the market, Zane had called to tell him the jury selection process for
Philip’s trial had begun. He refused to be upset, he was in San Antonio with
Cato and he was determined to focus on her. When his lawyer had asked where he
was, he’d told him they were on their way to The Tequila Tree for margaritas
and fajitas. When they’d run off, an inebriated tourist had sidled up to him
and slurred, “Did you say there was a Tequila Tree around here?”

Heath
gladly pointed him to a large oak tree further down the way.

Under
the full moon, they’d walked hand in hand down the River Walk, watching the
small colorful boats filled with tourists pass under the arched bridges.
Mariachi singers strolled around with their guitars and brightly colored
lanterns and lights strung through the trees made the whole area festive and
full of joy. When they walked through the Hyatt on their way to the Alamo
Complex, Cato had marveled at the river running through the lobby. She’d had to
stop and take Heath’s picture and he’d indulged her, the excitement she was
experiencing was contagious. After crossing the courtyard, Cato and Heath
approached the Alamo proper. Both slowed. An air of reverence pervaded the
scene. “It’s small but awe inspiring, isn’t it? Knowing those people chose to
die here for a cause bigger than they were.”

“Of
both armies, some say perhaps seventeen hundred people died right where we’re
standing.”

Cato
felt a chill travel over her and she held Heath’s hand tightly as they walked
through the grounds, the mission and the stables. There was a huge exhibit, all
owned by Dr. Scott Walker of Austin.

“He’s
a friend of Aron’s. Dr. Walker treated Aron after he was rescued, when he was
suffering memory loss,” Heath told her.

“I’ve
heard of him, but I didn’t know that connection. I do know his wife is a
songwriter.”

“Yea,
do you like her music?”

Cato
elbowed him. “I like the words!”

Heath
wrapped his arm around her neck. “Sorry, baby. You’re so perfect, I forget you
can’t hear.”

He
pulled her flush against him. She could feel the ridge of his manhood nestling
against her belly. “Oh, I don’t need to hear to read you loud and clear. Let’s
go back to the room,” she purred.

“Our
haunted room?”

Cato
could tell they were going to have a good time—both between the sheets and out.
Being with Heath was such a joy, she’d never had this much fun with anyone.

They
didn’t walk back to the Emily Morgan, they ran—like children. Heath started
undressing her in the elevator, not to where she would be embarrassed but a few
undone buttons would speed along the process.

When
they were alone they stripped in front of one another. Cato watched him take
off his shirt. The man was magnificent, straight out of a fantasy—hers. Broad
shoulders, a sculpted chest, a six pack of
lickable
abs. When he turned to hang his shirt over a chair, he kept his eyes on Cato,
looking over his shoulder, a heated, hooded gaze that made her cream. The man’s
ass was a work of art, and when Heath came toward her, he moved sensually, his
hips moving in a sensual detached manner. If he stretched, she would see that
incredible
vee
and the happy trail that led from his
bellybutton to that
suckable
,
fuckable
cock. She couldn’t stay still, he was just too much. He walked like he was moving
toward a lover, a lover that he intended to coax screams and whimpers from as
she buried her head in the pillow, clawing at the sheet. Damn. Damn. And she
was that woman—lucky her.

Truthfully,
Heath made her feel beautiful. There was never a moment when he gave her the
impression she was less. Yet in the face of his perfection, there was part of
her, deep down that still knew she was chopped liver.

And
at that realization, her hands froze where they were and she quickly faced away
from him till she regained her composure. She’d unbuttoned her shirt, unzipped
her skirt, but for the most part Cato was still covered.

Heath’s
eyes were riveted by the most gorgeous ass he’d ever ogled. But when she had
her back to him, he couldn’t communicate with her, so he promptly walked around
her till he could. “For God sake’s, why did you stop?”

“Sorry,
I felt shy all of a sudden,” she apologized.

“Shy?”
Heath looked her up and down. The girl had long, perfectly formed legs.
“Sweetheart, we’ve made each other cum, told one another secrets, slept
together. Why be shy now?”

Cato
held her head up, tilting her up chin almost in defiance. “Because you’re a ten
and a half and I’m a five on a good day and I keep expecting you to realize it
and wonder what the hell you’re doing here with me.”

Heath
stared at her like she’d grown two heads. “You can’t be serious.”

Cato
didn’t answer, confirming her opinion.

“All
right, worry-wart, let’s analyze this situation.” He took her hand and drew her
forward. “Do you know I lie in the bed and fantasize about making love to you?
I relive every second we’ve been together.”

“No,”
she answered meekly as he pushed her shirt over her shoulders and let it slide
down her arms. “I was just admiring your perfect little bottom and exquisite
legs. Let me start at the top and work my way down.” He bit his bottom lip and
grinned at her wickedly. “How do I love thee?” Cato’s heart started to
pound—he’d said it again. “Let me count the ways.”

“You’re
embarrassing me,” she protested.

“I
don’t care, this has to be said.” He framed her face, picking up the wealth of
her hair. “I love to wrap these long curls around my fingers when I fuck you.
You’re like a playboy version of a fairy princess.” Cato blushed, but she
locked her eyes to his. Who wouldn’t want to know what he said? “I look at you
and I’m lost. Big, bright brown eyes, high cheekbones, pouty lips, a sprinkle
of freckles over a perky nose. God, baby, you’re every man’s dreams, a cross
between a sex goddess and the girl next door.”

“I didn’t know…”
“Do you know what I want to do to you? Right now?”

She
shook her head no.

He
finished undressing her, then dropped to his knees and placed an open mouth
kiss right at the apex of her mound. 

“Heath…”
She sighed. “I’m all for making you happy.”

“Oh,
you do.” He traced her belly button with his tongue. “I love the way you smell,
how velvety your skin is.” When he slid his hands up to her breasts and pushed
them together, then she lost her mind. “I want to cum between your tits. Can
I?”

“Uh…sure.”

Heath
marveled that she always looked surprised to be desired. “Appreciate your
cooperation.” Standing up, he shucked his jeans, socks and underwear, then sat
down on the bed and drew her forward. A potent possessiveness thrummed through
him. He’d lusted after women before, but not this way. He coveted Cato. “Lie
back. I need room to work.”

Arranging
herself on the bed, she put one hand behind her head, the other under her
breasts. She looked like sex incarnate. “I want anything you want.” Cato
surrendered.

Careful
not to hurt her, Heath straddled her, keeping his weight on his knees. “Let me
be clear about what I want.” He took one finger and touched the very end of her
nipple, watching it pucker. “I want you underneath me in bed.”

“I
think I am.”

“Yes,
you are.” He put a hand on either side of her breasts, they were soft and
smooth from the body lotion she’d applied earlier. “I want to take you so hard
and so often that you forget your own name.”

“Cato
who?” she breathed, fully on board with his proposal.

“And
most of all, I want to leave my mark on you so every other male will back off
because they smell me all over you.”

Melt.
Cato went liquid, a heaviness settled between her thighs and she felt herself
grow damp. He leaned over and brushed his lips along her cheek. She felt the
heavy weight of his cock resting on her chest. God, he was serious! Shock waves
rippled over her skin as his mouth made blistering contact with hers, devouring
her—hot and hungry.