Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) (5 page)

She had to admit that it felt good to touch herself. She rubbed back and forth a few times, stopping occasionally when she was convinced she heard a sound at the door. She rubbed harder. She rubbed faster. She flipped onto her stomach and rubbed herself against her hand.

Ow, hand cramp. Great.
She gave up with a pathetic sigh of resignation and buried her face in her pillow in disgust.
Oh, God, I have problems.

Rolling onto her side, she reached for her notebook again and wrote a sarcastic note in the margin:

First attempt at masturbation—fail. Change book title to
Ultimate Celibacy: When Even You Don’t Want You
.

Sarah added a few more lines, then threw the notebook back onto the nightstand.
I thought we had a deal, Texas. You are seriously disappointing me.

Down the hall, clad only in cotton boxers, Tony lay on top of his bedding with his hands clasped behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.
I should have thrown her out the moment I met her. No one is as innocent as she pretends to be. The whole story about confusing my horse ranch with a cattle ranch sounded far-fetched from the beginning, but I wanted to believe the implausible could be true.

He should have told her to leave when he caught her with the damning evidence of her notebook. He’d spent too many years avoiding interviews and banning reporters from his property to change now just because she had a body a man wanted to bury himself in. He closed his eyes as if that would diminish how vividly he could remember her long, lean thighs and those deliciously high boots. Whoever she worked for had chosen poorly if they thought that a pair of perfectly shaped breasts and a tight ass would be enough for her to gain an exclusive interview.

So why is she still here?

The reason was standing erect and proud, straining beneath the thin cotton of his shorts. His cock didn’t care if his blonde angel was capable of deception. Was she sleeping? Was she lying there imagining, as he was, what would happen if he crossed the hall and knocked on her door?

I should let her believe she’s conned me and test exactly how far she’s willing to go to get her story. Hell, if she’s good enough, I might even give her a quote to take with her when I throw her cute little ass off my property tomorrow.

No use hoping it doesn’t come to that.

Tony rolled onto his side and punched the pillow before settling his head on it. Even after seeing the notebook, there was a part of him that didn’t want to believe he’d been wrong about her. Those brown eyes were so deceptively open and trusting. The memory of them warmed his heart in a way that confused him.

There’s a slim chance she’s not a reporter.

Why the hell else would she have been taking notes by her car?

What was it about Sarah that made him want to prove her innocence?

He didn’t like puzzles when it came to people. In fact, it had been a long time since he’d cared enough to question anyone’s motivation for anything. Over the past five years, he’d lost interest in most everything. There’d been a time when he’d found a thrill in unlocking the potential of a horse, but even that had waned.

Slowly dying.

Until today.

He slid a hand beneath the elastic of his shorts, took his pulsing cock into his hand, and closed his eyes. His callused palm was a poor substitute for the hot, wet mouth he wanted around him. Not just any mouth—the one that had pouted at him when he’d told Sarah she couldn’t leave. He imagined her opening the door to his bedroom and finding him jacking off.

A smile would spread across her face. She would slowly strip and saunter to the side of his bed, naked and aroused. Tony kept an even pump going while he pictured how she would look. He’d seen enough of her in the shower to be able to picture her all too clearly in his mind. He knew how round and firm her breasts were and how delightfully dark her nipples looked against her otherwise fair skin.

She’d boldly prowl to the bed, placing a foot on either side of his torso, giving him the perfect view of her wet and eager pussy. One of her hands would cup a breast and circle her nipple until it was standing straight with arousal. Her other hand would caress her clit with slow, rhythmic precision until she could no longer contain her moans. Then she’d slip her middle finger inside herself while continuing to rub the heel of her hand against her pink folds.

He jerked in his own hand and tore his boxers off, then relaxed onto his back as he pictured her throwing her head back, her long blonde mane loose and wild down her back, begging for him to bury his hands in it. She’d nibble that lush bottom lip of hers and shudder above him as she brought herself to orgasm. Her juices would run down her hand and she’d turn her hungry mouth to him. She’d swivel, sinking to her knees so her still-swollen folds were easily within his tongue’s reach, and she’d take him deeply into her mouth.

The taste of her and the sensation of her lips around him would almost be his undoing, but he’d hold out as long as he could. He’d savor her and tease her swollen nub with licks and gentle sucks until he felt her ready to come again. Only then would he climax in her mouth while she did in his.

Tony shuddered as he came in his own hand.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to find out what’s in that notebook before I throw her out.

Just to be fair ’n’ all.

Chapter Four

E
arly in the morning, Tony’s subconscious turned on him as it had countless times before. He tensed, even in his sleep, preparing to meet an old adversary he’d never conquered.

Don’t do this to yourself. Wake up.

But he was already lost to it.

He was cantering a white mare bareback down a long dirt road. They covered the miles with no sound of hoofbeats to break up the oppressive silence. No breeze. Sweat beaded on Tony’s forehead. Torn between loving and hating the memory, all he could do was hold on. The violet-blue sky pressed down, as familiar to him as the decrepit ranch he was riding to.

As she always did, the mare headed for the crumbling farmhouse at the top of the hill. No amount of reining her in would turn the mare from her course. Try as he did, each time he took this ride he was incapable of leaping off. No, the horse always took him back to the one place he hated.

In the blink of an eye, he was standing in an old round pen with the mare. His father, as weathered and worn as his surroundings, leaned against the pen’s rusty metal railings. “You still wastin’ yer time with that nag? The meat man ain’t gonna care none if she’s muscled up.”

“You can’t sell her. She’s mine, Dad. You said I could have her.” His voice was a mixture of the child he’d been and the man he’d become.

“Don’t go gettin’ yourself attached, Tony. We need the money and that horse is goin’ at the next auction.” There was no cruel intention in his voice, just the cold sting of truth.

“You told me if I got her to stop bucking, I could keep her. She’s as gentle as they come now.”

Emotion had never had much effect on the older man, who had been taught several tough life lessons early. “If she is, maybe someone’ll outbid the meat man.”

The hand Tony buried in the horse’s mane belonged to the twelve-year-old he’d once been. “I won’t let you do it, Dad. Not this horse. Not to the auction. She’s mine. I love her.” A memory that should have faded with time was as sharp and painful in his dream as the day it had happened, and the desperation in his young voice as he pleaded with his father was equally real.

With a disgusted shake of his head, his father said, “There ain’t no room for love in reality, Son. You’d best learn that now. Love just makes a man miserable. That horse goes to auction in two weeks. Train her real good, and maybe she’ll find herself a home.”

The weathered, neglected pen disappeared. Miles and miles of white
fencing surrounded Tony. Tall green grass waved in the light breeze under a bright, cloudless sky. He heard the distant sound of a thundering gray stallion bearing down on him. The horse grew in size as it approached, morphing into a snorting beast intent on stomping the life out of him. The more he fought it, the more it knocked him down until he retreated from it. But it followed, as it always did, cornering him until he hated himself more than he feared any pain the horse could inflict.

An image of Sarah appeared and stood beside him, replacing the beast. Sweet, trusting Sarah. He reached for her, but she stepped back in horror, staring at his hands. They were covered and dripping with blood. He desperately tried to clean them on his shirt, but the blood remained. He wanted to reassure her, but even while screaming, he had no voice.

Sarah faded away and Tony sank to his knees in the tall grass. Despite the blood, he covered his face in his hands and did in his dream what he had never done when he was awake. He cried.

Long after he’d awoken, the dream lingered far too vividly. Tony cursed each bale of hay he threw down from the barn loft. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, but the punishing heat of the day was a welcome discomfort.

He groaned when David changed direction upon spotting him. Only a year or two older than Tony, David successfully organized sales and handled the business side of things. He had quickly built up a reputation of integrity that trumped any amount of advertising another breeder might buy. He was also the best damn ranch manager in the area, possibly in all Texas, but he had a flaw: he was too fucking happy.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Tony headed down the ladder in resignation. David was as unavoidable as weeds in a pasture. He was the one person on the ranch Tony couldn’t avoid talking to.
But I don’t have to like it.

“I’m surprised you’re here so early this morning,” David said too cheerfully. “I thought you’d b
e . . .
”

“I’d be what?” Tony bit out, stacking the leftover hay against the wall.

David paused a moment, pushed his Stetson back thoughtfully, and chose his next words carefully. “I heard you have company. I figured you might take today off.”

“Do I pay you to think about who I do or don’t have in my house?” Tony’s body filled with fury. More, he knew, than the conversation called for.

“No,” David said slowly.

“Then why the hell are we having this conversation?” Tony snarled, his fists curling at his sides.

Another man would have turned tail and run at the charged tone, but David simply shook his head in a patient way that only irritated Tony more. “Snow Prince won another reining futurity,” he said as Tony piled the last bale on top. “I heard there was a huge purse. Word has it, he’s worth almost a million now and climbing. His owner would like to come meet you. He can’t say enough good about you. The papers are begging for interviews, too.”

“I don’t care about Prince’s new owner and you know I don’t give interviews,” Tony said with disgust.

David opened the door to his small barn office nearby and stood just outside it. “If you don’t want to be in the magazines, stop training horses. You’ve made enough money.”

I would, but it’s all I have left. That and one confusing houseguest.
“What do you know about that idiot reporter you found snooping around here last week? Was he working with anyone?” He’d almost forgotten about that man, but Sarah had somehow brought him back, just as she had his nightmares.

“As far as I know, no one.” It wasn’t often that David looked embarrassed, but his face reddened at the mention of the hired hand who had turned out to be an undercover reporter.

“What about the rest of the hands? You might want to let them go and start fresh. One or another of them is always trying to talk to me.”

“You know we can’t run this place alone.” David crossed his arms. “I’m not firing everyone midseason just because they admire you.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

David scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “What put a burr under your saddle this morning?”

“You know my rule.”

With a sad shake of his head, David said, “Some of these young men have worked here for years. They’re loyal to you. It’s your ranch, Tony. Fire the whole lot of them if you want, but I’m not cleaning the stalls. You let ’em go, and you find the next ones. That’ll mean going to town, screening them, sorting through the ones with real skills versus the ones who think they can acquire some simply by watching you. By all means, go ahead.” David shrugged. “I’ll take the vacation I’m due to give you some time to figure out what a colossal mistake it was. Then if you ask me real nice, I’ll try to find some qualified help before we lose a whole season.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “I can let you go just as easily.”

David nodded. “Do it. I’ve made good money. It may be time for me to invest in something of my own.” Lifting and adjusting his hat, David said dryly, “I’d miss your sorry, self-destructive ass, though.” Tony caught a shadow of a smile on David’s face and hated the twinkle of amusement in his eyes as David said, “Go on back to the house. I bet your mood will get a whole lot better if you stop hiding down here and go see your little blonde.”

Tony opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap and a glare. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the barn.

I hate it when he’s right.

The early morning light that filtered through the curtainless windows woke Sarah up. She squinted into the brightness, then grabbed a pillow to cover her head. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but when she did she sat straight up in the twin bed, dropping the pillow to the floor.

Yesterday was not a dream. I really did get lost, made a complete idiot of myself over the first cowboy I met, got ditched by a woman I thought was my friend, and slept in the home of a complete stranger.
Sarah sat immobile on the bed, letting it all soak in.

Today can only go up from there.

She swung her legs to the floor, stood, and stretched. A light breeze from the window flitted across body parts she didn’t normally air out. Sarah looked down quickly, past the T-shirt that rested just below her hips, and remembered she’d removed her underwear last night.

Probably not a good idea to stand in front of the window bare-assed.
She scrunched down and made her way to the luggage she hadn’t bothered to open the night before. Rummaging quickly produced clean underwear and a fresh pair of jeans.

A shower would be nice. What’s the rule regarding the number of showers you’re allowed when you break into a person’s house? I’m guessing it’s one.

Then again, some rules are meant to be broken, especially if it’s for the common good.

After a quick shower, she slid on the snug-fitting jeans, tennis shoes, and a simple pink blouse, then sought the room’s mirror. A dab of concealer, a quick sweep of her hair into a ponytail, and she felt brave enough to face the new day.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed when she discovered the only other person in the house was Melanie, washing dishes at the large sink in the kitchen. Sarah paused before entering and said, “Good morning.”

“Tony skipped breakfast, and you’re up late. You’ll have to make yourself something if you’re hungry.” Dressed in worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and an old gray T-shirt, Melanie looked as rough around the edges as she sounded.

If there was one thing Sarah prided herself on, it was her ability to make friends. She liked people and, in return, most people liked her. She supposed she shouldn’t care how Melanie felt about her, since she was planning to leave after breakfast and it wasn’t likely they’d ever cross paths again. Still, there was something about Melanie that drew Sarah to her side.

“Would you like help with the dishes?” Sarah asked.

The housekeeper stopped and turned the water off. She gave Sarah what could only be described as an insulting, dismissive once-over. “You don’t need to be kissing up to me. I just work here.”

But you wish things were different? I know how you feel.

“My mother would call you essential support staff.”

Melanie turned away and snapped, “There’s coffee by the stove.”

Dismissed.

Sarah poured herself a cup of black coffee and turned to rest her hip against the counter as she sipped it. Almost instantly she spit the tepid bitter liquid back into the cup.
Whatever that is, it’s not coffee.
If Melanie heard, she didn’t seem to care. “Thank you for making dinner last night.”

“It’s my job,” Melanie said without turning around.

“Well, it was nice,” Sarah said warmly, deciding to ride out the arctic chill from the other woman. “And it may be the only home-cooked meal I have in Texas before I drive home to Rhode Island today.”

Just the thought of that long drive was enough to seriously dampen Sarah’s mood. She might as well start calling the bed-and-breakfasts she’d stayed at on the way down and hope they had rooms open for the return.

Melanie looked at her over her shoulder. “You really leaving?”

Sarah put the coffee cup down on the counter beside her and sighed. “That’s the way it looks.”

After wiping her hands on a towel beside the sink, Melanie turned around and faced her. “I figured you’d be staying longer.”

A flush of embarrassment warmed Sarah’s neck and cheeks
. Not when I’m taken in like a dog in a storm.
She smiled with self-deprecating humor.
Tony’s probably in town stapling my picture on telephone poles with the caption: Found—stray woman. Please call to claim.

“He doesn’t usually bring women here,” Melanie said.

Sarah let out a short rueful laugh. “I sort of brought myself. He was just too nice to throw me out.”

Melanie raised both eyebrows as she said, “Really? ‘Nice’ isn’t how most people describe Tony.” Then she frowned. “I guess it’s not a surprise he’d make an exception for someone like you.”

Oh boy. I’m not awake enough for this.
Tired, Sarah rubbed a hand over her forehead and joked,
“If you’re looking for a fight, you should make better coffee. I don’t function until after my second cup.”

Melanie folded her arms across her chest and studied her for a long moment before saying, “My coffee is fine. That’s yesterday’s pot.”

And round one goes to the angry housekeeper.

If this is Southern charm, give me a Northern cold shoulder any day.

“I’m leaving today, so there’s no need to try to poison me.”

“We’ll see.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if Melanie was referring to her leaving or the desire to poison her, but she wasn’t going to ask. “Okay, well, I probably won’t see you before I leave, so thanks again for dinner.”

Melanie turned away without saying another word and returned to washing the dishes.

Sarah inched her way out of the kitchen.

My novel won’t have a housekeeper.

She stepped onto the porch, and the heat of the day met her with a slap.

And it won’t be ten thousand degrees by nine in the morning.

But it will have him.
Freshly shaven, dressed in a light-blue plaid shirt and jeans that fit him snugly in all the right places, Tony walked up the driveway to the bottom of the porch steps. For a split second he looked like he might smile, but then he frowned instead as he looked her over.

Well, a happier version of him, anyway.

What? Was he hoping I had my luggage with me?