Under Pressure (2 page)

A solid lump formed in her throat.

Guzzling the beer, she looked down the bottle at him.

He smiled
, one that looked even brighter against the backdrop of his olive complexion and broad jaw. His toughness softened some.

He lifted his bottle to his lips, wrapped them around the lid and an
image of that mouth on hers, and other secret places, slipped through her mind. She knew it was wrong, sinful in so many ways, but she couldn’t help herself.

She tore at the corner of the damp napkin
in restless nervousness. The bottle tipped. Catching it, she hoped he didn’t see the trembling in her fingers. Putting the beer back on the torn square, she forced a smile and watched him through the veil of her lashes as he relaxed back into the stool. A strong whiff of soap and musk tickled her nose, turning everything inside of her to marshmallow crème.

“I-I gu
ess I was wrong.” With the pensiveness of his gaze, she hoped he couldn’t see right through her.

“No problem.” His voice was deep and slow, just
like she’d imagine coming from a sexy, confidant cowboy. He looked at her drink then back to her with a cocked brow. “Do you need another?”

“Sure.”
What?
She didn’t need another!

He
flagged Delta. Jewels couldn’t hear a word he was saying because she was stuck in a trance watching the movement of his perfectly shaped lips. He had a sureness about him that she didn’t see often, one that came with age—too old for her baby sister, who was far from being a baby at twenty-five. He just didn’t seem like Em’s type. She had a taste for men who didn’t think before they spoke or acted, and every move this cowboy made seemed deliberated.

She strugg
led to keep her brain on focus-mode to find the right words to keep the stud engaged without tripping over her tongue. She should ask if he was a rancher. His sun-kissed skin and worn hat told her he spent a lot of time outdoors. Did he plan to attend the rodeo coming up in a few days? Some casual chatter— but her mouth wouldn’t formulate the words.

Since her words were lost
, she did the next best thing—she worked her smile, hoping it lived up to its reputation of being worth a million dollars, at least that was the value her father placed on it. In high school, she’d never been the prettiest or the most popular, at least compared to her sisters, but she’d learned early that a smile was contagious. It’d certainly gotten her out of a speeding ticket a time or two.

A
sexy smile split his lips. Now
that
was a smile.

~°°°~

Spark Ryder glanced at the fair-skinned woman through squinted eyes.

Now what in blazing hell is this?

She sat there quietly, smiling, staring at him.

H
e’d noticed every inch of her, at least as much as he could without coming across as obvious. He skimmed his gaze over her hips and downward to the tips of her pink toenails visible in the fancy heels that could second as weapons. Even underneath the skintight jeans, he knew her legs were long and toned and—would be a perfect fit around a man’s waist. He couldn’t forget a pair that looked this good and wouldn’t deny he’d like to have them around his hips, but that wasn’t going to happen…

No way, no how.

He’d seen Jewels Stone the second he’d walked into the bar—probably every other patron in the building noticed her too— but besides her pretty, cinnamon-brown eyes, upturned nose, and long honey-colored hair, there was something else about her that gripped his balls in a bunch. She was his new boss’s daughter, which meant she was off limits.

So then why was she making a helluva effort in flirting with him?

He didn’t believe she recognized him—or did she? Maybe this was a test to see if he was a true gentleman, worthy of working the Rhinestone.

Hell, he couldn’t be sure.

These days, when an employer trolled potential employees’ Facebook pages to find dirt, he guessed anything was possible.

He’d
caught a glimpse of her a few weeks ago while visiting the Rhinestone. She was bent over a horse-sized sheepdog, lathering him up and hosing him down. When she stood up, Spark’s jaw had almost hit the ground. Wearing a short top and shorter shorts, her legs had gone for miles and she could have won first prize in a wet T-shirt contest. That was an image forever embedded into his eyelids.

Dropping his gaze
now, he noticed the slight trembling in her slender fingers as she scraped at the label on the bottle. Her nails were short and clean—glossy. He suddenly wished he were a canine being lathered up.

He never wo
uld have guessed he’d cross paths with one of the Stone daughters, especially at the country bar twenty miles away from her beaten path—and yet here she was, sitting beside him, sporting a smile that could knock the boots clean off a fellow.

Problem was, a
woman didn’t use a loaded smile unless she had an ulterior motive.

He knew he should just
use some excuse, like he was meeting someone or needed sleep, and pardon himself.

Interest
kept him glued to the stool.

She wrapped her
hand around the bottle, sliding her palm over the condensation then tapping the tips of her fingers. An image flashed of her grasping his—
oh shit!
His muscles quivered. What the hell had come over him?

When s
he brought the bottle to her lips, he tore his gaze away before he suffered any more growth. His zipper couldn’t take the strain.

With e
yes on the dance floor, he barely saw the only couple, wrapped arm and arm, tongues down each other’s throat. Someone would need an extractor to tug the two apart.

“Would you like to dance?”

Bringing his attention back on her, there was determination in
her expression that told him she wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter what excuse he threw her way. He became more suspicious.

He
’d never walked away from a challenge. He was born to compete and lived for an adrenaline rush, but some lines shouldn’t be crossed.

Opening
his mouth to reply with a big fat no, a more intelligent thought spanned his mind. If an employee would send his daughter out to ‘test’ a ranch hand, that wouldn’t be a rancher Spark wanted to work with. He’d heard only good things about Joshua Stone, and the man had a shining reputation in these parts, but Spark knew a lot of men who could pull the wool over many an eye.

Spending
some time with Jewels, he’d get the opportunity to do his own investigating.

“Sure.
Why not.” He got up and stretched his long legs and shoulders. A pain shot through his shoulder, reminding him of the rodeo injury he’d suffered two years ago—the last ride of his career that had landed him in the hospital for a month and rehabilitation for six. His body aches were a built-in weather predictor and this throbbing told him rain was in the forecast.

Jewels
got up with a grace that spoke of money—lots of it. Hell, he already knew the Stone family was loaded, although none of them lived lavishly from what he’d seen. Their two-story, white sided house and the porch that spread from one side to the other could make a good resting spot for a cowboy, but it wasn’t anything fancy. Yet, something about this woman reeked of class—even the department store clothes and downplayed appearance couldn’t hide the fact.

“You didn’t tell me your name, sweetheart.” He pushed the front of his hat with the back of his knuckles.

Three seconds and several expressions later, she finally said, “Lisa.”

Her lie, and poorly
executed at that, made his gut clench. That should be good enough reason to call this a night and walk. He knew her name and that she’d moved back home after a tough breakup.  Stone had spent a good amount of their first meeting talking about his special daughters…Jewels, Pearl and Emerald. Pretentious names if Spark said so himself.

Yeah, he didn’t need any part of this situation.

He started to take a step toward the exit when she clasped his hand, entwining their fingers and practically pulling him toward the dance floor. He guessed he was obligated for a few more minutes.

Chapter Two

SPARK UNEASILY WRAPPED
one arm around Jewels’ waist and held her hand with his other while attempting to listen to the popular soft tune filtering from the jukebox. He’d met the singer in person at a rodeo event three or four years ago. Nice, family man. Spark had been a fan of his music since.

But even following the words of the song didn’t take his mind off the pretty woman who leaned close.

He inhaled and got a whiff of the ocean—light and fresh. His heart picked up like a racing horse and he attempted to control the galloping. She smelled good, and she didn’t feel too bad either.

He was certain to keep at least three inches
distance between their bodies so that no unnecessary touching would happen, but the gentle sway of her hips was enough to make him salivate. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he found he didn’t mind holding her and their hands tangled in a perfect fit. He wondered how soft her hair would feel sliding through his fingers.

“
What do you do for a living?” she asked, staring up at him with amazing soft eyes.

“
I ranch.” He wasn’t much of a game player either, but he’d keep the ruse going long enough to feel out what her deal was. Then he’d cut loose right out the door.

Her chest heaved with an impatient sigh. “I guessed as much. Around these parts? Or did you come into town for the rodeo next week?”

“I came to town to work.” He wanted to keep his answers as vague as possible.

H
e moved his hand a bit lower to the waist of her jeans, and she didn’t even blink.  “A man of little words, huh?”

“Are we talking or dancing?” H
e didn’t need to see the slight pout of her bottom lip to understand the harsh tone of his words, but awkward wouldn’t even begin to explain what he was feeling. At a cross between calling her out and falling into the spider web she was quickly spinning, he was angry at his parts below the waist that didn’t care that she was lying. 

Lord, her smell alone was enough to cause his veins to narrow, but her mesmerizing eyes and smile almost did him in. Riding the rodeo circuit
, he’d seen many a pretty woman, hot and willing for his taking. In his twenties, he’d obliged, like a kid in a candy store, wanting to sample every available treat. But after a few years, he’d grown tired of the groupies and was well enough with being alone.

N
one of them had sparked his blood like the woman Jewels.

After
quitting the rodeo, he did some traveling, worked on several ranches and decided it was high time he started thinking of his future—possibly find a woman who’d be happy to call him husband.

Fixing fences and baling hay hadn’t giv
en him much time to meet women, especially the type of Ms. Stone. She was certainly an eyeful. It was just another reminder of what he was missing by not having a place to call his own. He’d imagined many times over the last year what it would be like to come home after a hard day’s work to a family, and now he was at a point he wanted it in reality.

But
not
with the boss’s daughter.

He had to nix his interest in this woman. She was off limits.

Just a few more minutes.

“What do you do, Lisa?” he asked.

“I’m a photographer.”

He chuckled. Probably another
lie. Oh well, in the bigger picture, it didn’t matter what she told him. Either way, it was no sweat off his back. In the meantime, he’d have some fun. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“Of course, I have. I can
saddle one too.”

“With those
manicured nails, I find that hard to believe,” he snorted.

She lifted her chin
defiantly. The twinkle in her soft brown eyes was enough to send a heat wave through his body. “Are you suggesting that a woman has to look a certain way, or dress a certain way, to be capable?”

“I’m not talking
sitting atop a horse looking pretty at social gatherings at the country club. I’m talking riding a horse as in breaking wind at breakneck speed. Becoming one with your horse, feeling like his legs are your legs, his mane is your mane. Mending a fence with a hammer. Wrestling cattle…”

Her gasp made the hair on his arms rise.
“This is ranching country and my family owns one. On any given day you’ll find me working the land or tending the horses.”

“
Are you trying to convince me or yourself? I doubt you’ve worked a hard day in your life. No, you look like the type who has helpers for everything.” He was teetering on obnoxious, but he couldn’t stop. The more he stood there, touching her, realizing this was all a game to her, the angrier he became. What made him madder was the fact that he wasn’t immune to her. His body betrayed the warning signs in his brain.