Into the Arms of a Cowboy (14 page)

“Huh?”

“Do you, you know. . . .”

“What?”

“Do you still want to make love to me?” she blurted.

His laughter was a low, rough purr in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her body as he nibbled her lower lip. “You bet I do, Cassie. But let’s take it slow, okay? Maybe it won’t happen tonight, or tomorrow night, but sooner or later I think it will. How’s that for an answer?”

“It’ll do,” she said, with another contented sigh, and he laughed again.

They lay together for several minutes, and Jess was right. There was no hurry. Her anticipation only added to the pleasure of Jess’s gentle, exploratory kisses. She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just for a moment.

“Cassie? Wake up,
darlin
’.”

Her eyes flew open. Jess was shaking her shoulder. “I hate to disturb you,” he said, “especially when you’re smiling in your sleep. But it’s after two, and getting colder. We need to go inside.”

She scrambled to her feet. “The kits--”

“We’ll feed them together.”

As they walked back to the house, he took her hand. His fingers--thick, rough, and warm--closed around her own. She let out a blissful sigh. She’d never been so happy.

If only the feeling could last forever.

Two days later, on a sunshiny afternoon, Jess wiped his hands on his apron and grinned at Cassie. She looked incredible in her blue birthday dress, with her camera slung around her neck and her bright hair tumbling around her shoulders. As she hobbled across the grass on her high-heeled sandals, and he noticed she’d painted her toenails with sparkly silver polish.

“Another cheeseburger, anyone?” Jess asked, as he slid his spatula under a charred hunk of meat. “Well done, just the way you like ‘
em
!”

Tanya bounced down the steps from the porch, where she’d been watching the baby raccoons crawl about on a cushion. At about two weeks old, the kits’ eyes had opened--though their ears remained pressed against their heads--and they’d begun to
churr
, growl, hiss and give snorts of alarm when they felt threatened. Both were thriving, to Tanya and Cassie’s delight. Even Gus was charmed.

“I’ll take another hot dog,” Tanya said. She was quite a sight herself in a frilly white organdy dress, but hardly more astonishing than Gus in a threadbare tuxedo, or Jess in his one-and-only suit, a dark gray number he normally donned for funerals and little else. Cassie had insisted that the others dress up, too, though Jess had cheated a little by wearing a black leather bola instead of a tie, and by leaving his coat on the porch and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“Say ‘catsup’!” Cassie demanded. She aimed the Leica Jess’s way as he grabbed for his metal tongs and dropped the last hotdog into Tanya’s waiting bun. Cassie clicked away, giggling, as Tanya headed back to the porch. “Love the apron,” Cassie teased.

“What, this old thing?” He laughed and smoothed the front, which sported an picture of an angry steer and the motto, “Don’t give me any of your bull.” “How about you, Cassie? Another burger?”

She patted her stomach and shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

He cast a rueful eye over the three extra hamburger patties. “So what am I supposed to do with these?”

“Give me one.”

He nudged a charbroiled patty onto a paper plate and handed it over. “You changed your mind?”

“Nope. This one’s for Harry. I’m going to make friends with that dog if it kills me.” She slapped her thigh. “Harry! Over here, Harry. I’ve got a treat for you!”

The dog, who lay a few feet away with his head on his paws, eyed her warily from under one floppy ear. He didn’t move an inch. Cassie turned back to Jess. “Help me out, won’t you?”

He smiled, then let out a piercing whistle. Harry jumped up like a shot and bounded over, his tongue hanging from his mouth. A high whine emerged from his throat.

“Here, boy.” Cassie tore the burger into smaller chunks, then offered the plate.

Harry glanced up at Jess. “Go on,” Jess said, gesturing with his walking stick. Now that his sprain was on the mend, he’d abandoned the cumbersome crutches in favor of the sturdy stick with its curved handle and polished wood.

The dog stepped forward cautiously, swallowed the meat in two gulps, then retreated again. Cassie sighed. “I don’t think he’ll ever trust me.”

“Give it time. You have to take these things slowly.”

A seductive smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “That’s what you said the other night, about the two of us,” she said softly, so that Tanya and Gus wouldn’t hear. “I’m still waiting.”

Jess laughed, but he felt an unmistakable tightening of male flesh. It had taken all his self-control, out by the orchard, to tell Cassie he wasn’t in a rush. Now he almost regretted his restraint. He remembered the cool satin ribbons of her hair under his fingertips, the soft, giving weight of her breasts against his chest, crushed against him with each breath she took. Still, as much as he wanted her, he also wanted to be sure--
sure
she was ready, sure the moment was right.

She hadn’t told him everything. He knew that. But he was ready to trust her anyway. Jess set down his tongs and closed the space between them. He ran his fingers lightly down her bare arm, then buried his face in her hair. Her natural scent--no way they sold anything so sweet in a bottle--made him dizzy with need.

“Not much longer,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I can’t wait, either.”

She breathed his name. Her lips brushed his, and he felt higher than a teenager on his first drinking binge. No hangover this time, though. Just the euphoria. Hungrily, he kissed Cassie back.

“
Scuse
me, kids, but where’s that cake?”

Jess stepped back, startled by the sound of his uncle’s voice behind him. Gus wax grinning like the cat who’d swallowed the canary, and Jess had no doubt that the old man had witness the whole tender scene.

“Yeah, Jess,” Cassie teased. “You did bake me one, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” He’d banished her from the kitchen all morning for just that purpose. “I’ll be right back.”

When he brought out the cake, they all gathered on the porch to watch Cassie blow out the candles. Happy tears glazed her eyes when she saw the cake. “Oh, it’s beautiful. This must have taken forever.”

He shrugged, suddenly shy. He’d worked on the cake for two hours, getting everything just right. The devil’s food cake itself. The chocolate frosting. The chocolate shavings. The tea roses--wild ones, picked from the woods up behind the cabin--arrayed around the plate. The 25 lighted candles, of course, and Cassie’s name in blue frosting. He’d smeared the capital C a little, but other than that, it was pretty darn perfect.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I love it.”

Tanya jumped up and down impatiently. “Make a wish, Cassie. Make a wish and blow out the candles, quick.”

Cassie smiled and closed her eyes.. The emotions that played across her face made Jess’s breath catch in his throat. Joy, fear, desire, uncertainty--it was all there. She pursed her lips and blew. One by one, the candles flared and died. Jess joined Tanya and Gus as they cheered her.

“What did you wish for?” Jess asked, softly.

Cassie opened her mouth, but Tanya gave a shriek of outrage. “Don’t tell him! You can’t tell him, or it won’t come true!”

Cassie smiled, a little sadly, and laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell,” she said. She met Jess’s eyes, and gave him a wicked half-smile. “But I’ll bet you anything he already knows.”

Two hours later, Jess came in from saying goodbye to Gus and found Cassie running a
sinkful
of hot, soapy water. The gathering twilight cast shadows over her face; she hadn’t bothered to switch on the kitchen lights. Outside, dark clouds had moved in to cover the sun. Jess smelled rain. It ought to start falling in the night, as far as he could figure.

“Hey, quit that,” he said indignantly, as she piled plates into the sink. “The birthday girl never does the dishes.”

Cassie shrugged and plunged her hands into the suds. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” He crossed to the kitchen and embraced her from behind. “Anyway, you’re dressed like a princess, not a scullery maid.”

She gave a throaty laugh and leaned back against him. “Princesses never do dishes? What a life!”

He laid aside his walking stick, reached into the steaming water, and caught her hands in his, pulling them from the sink. Her skin felt hot to the touch. Frothy white bubbles decorated her arms up to the elbows.

With excruciating slowness, she turned to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving a snail’s trail of silvery soap bubbles on his collar. “Actually,” she whispered, her lips barely half an inch from his, “maybe we should just let those cake pans soak for a while.”

Jess grazed her cheek with his lips. Her skin was smooth, unblemished, almost translucent--like fine marble, but richly flushed and alive. Though she’d barely touched him, he was hard already, completely ready to make love to her. Still, in spite of the dark, heavy, almost painful ache of arousal, he hesitated. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispered into her ear.

She nodded, but her lips were trembling, her eyes
overbright
as she gazed up at him. “You’re nervous,” he observed.

“In a good way.” She pressed her satin cheek against the stubble on his,. “Please, Jess. I’m ready. Unless--will it be all right, with your ankle--”

“My ankle’s fine.” He’d forgotten all about it.
Tt
supported most of his weight now. Only a slight soreness remained, and the occasional twinge of pain was the last thing on his mind right now. “But there’s no rush, Cassie, remember?”

“I’m not rushing into anything. This is what I want.”

Her soft words pushed him to the do what he’d wanted to do since the night they’d met. Silently, he took her hand and led her across the cabin to his temporary bed. He sat on the edge, then pulled her onto his lap, her legs across his thighs. Her creamy skin was awash with color, one thin strap of her dress slipping from her rounded left shoulder. He tugged her closer, stifling a groan as her full bottom came to rest between his thighs.

He took her face in his hands and claimed her mouth, using his tongue to delve into its hot depths. Then he slid his hands over her shoulders, dislodging both spaghetti straps, and unzipped the back of the blue dress. He peeled the dress off slowly and feasted his eyes on her unexpectedly bare breasts. Generous and perfectly shaped, tipped with rosy nipples already pebble-hard. . . he raised his eyes to her face and quirked on eyebrow. “No bra?”

She shrugged, a gesture that had a delightful effect now that she was bare from the waist down. “None of my lingerie would’ve worked,” she explained, blushing all over. “I need something strapless.”

“
Mmm
. Remind me not to buy you anything like that,” Jess said. “I like this look.”

He bent his head and flicked his tongue against one of her nipples. She rewarded him with a gasp of pleasure. He hadn’t imagined he could get any harder, but a new rush of blood proved him wrong.

Cassie tugged at Jess’s bola and pulled it loose. Though she preferred his usual T-shirt and faded jeans, he was ruggedly good looking in his crisp white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and the charcoal slacks.

Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned the dress shirt, but she needed to feel his naked chest against hers, and then his weight against her body. Otherwise she worried she might actually float away. The sensations swirling through her were simply so delicious. Her blood danced in her veins as Jess dipped his head again and pulled first one and then the other nipple into his heated mouth.

No man’s caresses had ever affected her like this. Of course, she’d never let herself get so close to anyone before, physically or emotionally. Should she maybe
mention her sexual inexperience to Jess? But what if she scared him off? Maybe she should just play it by ear. Or by touch. . . .

She bit back a giggle as she fumbled the final buttons on his shirt and pushed it from his shoulders, then hungrily ran her fingers through the mat of crisp, dark hair curling over his broad chest. She’d never touched such hard, well-muscled flesh, and it fascinated and aroused her. Her fingers encountered the nearly healed cuts from his accident, along with the hard ridges of other mysterious, intriguing scars.

She slid her hands over the sculpted planes of his pectorals and the hard nubs of his nipples, then down to the tense, rippling muscles of his abdomen. Her fingers toyed with the dark hair just above the waistband of his pants, which made the shape of a downward arrow from his belly button, an arrow leading to even more tempting regions of his body.

Jess’s hands covered hers, guiding them to the silver buckle on his leather belt, urging her to undo it. She did as he asked, then watched as he shed his pants and boxer shorts. Now he stood before her, naked, magnificent and . . .big.