Another complication. Another layer of history and emotion that was so damn hard to lift. If Lance had been just a man, who had never known Jack, I might have felt lighter with it. Still a bit strange, but okay. As it was, the fact that it was Lance just complicated everything so much more.
I would have been better off sticking with my trusty vibrator, perhaps. Guaranteed satisfaction, with no awkward after effects.
I got to my quarters, collapsing across my bed. My backpack was filled with dirty laundry and I smelt like a camp fire, but I just didn’t have the heart to do anything at the moment. Opening the draw on my bedside table, I took out a photograph in a frame.
It was my favorite, always had been. There he was, slick in his uniform, smiling at the camera. His black hair was short, making his ears stick out a bit. His brown eyes stared through the photo at me, happy and carefree.
Jack. Looking back, this had been the pinnacle, of him as a person, and of our relationship. I remembered his pride the day this photo had been taken. He had just been told he had been accepted into the Special Forces. He was due to ship out for initial training in the next two weeks. Compounding his joy had been the news that Lance had been accepted as well. He and his best bud were going on the adventure of their lives together.
After the photo had been taken, the three of us had gone out for a night of celebration at the Old Coyote, the local bar in Clear Creek. I could still see the three of us, flushed with happiness.
We had walked into that bar like we owned it.
The locals had all approached the boys, of course, shaking their hands and slapping them on the back. Word had got around that they had been accepted into the SEALs. The community was so proud. Not one, but two, local boys accepted into the SEALs? Well, that didn’t happen every day in a little neck of the woods like Clear Creek.
Drinks were bought for all of us, beers and shots and God knows what else. The juke box pumped out Shania and The Dixie Chicks, getting louder and louder as the night wore on. I remember Lance and Jack having a game of pool, or trying to. Both were lining up their shots with the exaggerated care of the very drunk trying to look sober, then missing them by a mile. Sinking the black or pocketing the white, to the hilarity of the crowd.
We boot scooted on the dance floor which was the size of a handkerchief, elbowing and jostling people. Then it switched to a slow song, Willie singing about a girl who was always on his mind. Jack grabbed me, and we stumbled together, slow dancing and grinding into each other. We kissed on that dance floor, and he whispered in my ear that he loved me. I still remember how effervescent I felt, like I was a bunch of balloons.
I don’t know why I opened my eyes at that moment, with Jack’s arms around me and his words of love still lingering in my ear. But I did. I saw him on the edge of the dance floor, staring at us. Lance. Looking as if he had just been struck in the back with a knife.
It was a raw moment, totally private, but he didn’t have the thought to cover it up. He was wrecked. Eventually he saw me, and his face changed in an instant. He stumbled away, elbowing his way through the crowd.
I didn’t see him again that night. He must have gone home. And the next day, he was carefully controlled again. I didn’t catch any lovelorn glances cast in my direction.
I looked down at the photo in my lap, thinking. It had all changed after that. This photo was the last of the best times.
Jack and Lance had completed their training, each passing with flying colors. They had always been competitive, and this was the ultimate competition. They had been shipped all over the world on missions after that, Iraq and Afghanistan and God knows where else. Jack’s emails and calls started getting fewer and further between, and the distance between us started to stretch as wide as all those goddamn oceans that he had crossed.
And now he was dead.
I stared at the photo for a while longer, trying to be that girl again. The girl who had loved Jack, who thought that he would one day put a ring on my finger. But she was gone.
Just like he was.
I remembered Lance’s pained face that night in the Old Coyote, as he stared at us entwined on the dance floor. I knew in my heart that it had never gone away, that connection between us. But I had tried to ignore it.
Now it was rearing up like a force of nature, like a tsunami that was going to wipe everything out in its wake. What did I want? Did I want that tsunami to consume me? Or did I want to retreat to higher ground, staying safe and dry locked in the prison of my memories?
I slowly opened that draw and put that photo away.
I wouldn’t be looking at it again for a long, long time.
Lance
Bag unpacked and showered, I walked into my room. I had been so close. So close to getting her. That night underneath the stars had been everything that I had hoped. She had been so hot and passionate in my arms. She had felt so goddamn good, just like I had pictured for so long.
I took out the list that I had made, picking up my pen and crossing out that first number. We had camped out underneath the stars, big time.
Yet, she had retreated, back into her shell and her goddamn memories like a snail.
Hell, yeah, I was disappointed. It had been so good. I still ached to take her; it was like an itch that I just had to scratch. I looked at the next item on the list, thinking.
Could I do it? Bring her out of her shell again?
I had to try. I knew that. I felt like I didn’t have a choice, any more. This thing between us had the trajectory of an express train that wasn’t stopping for anyone.
Number Two: Dinner at a fancy restaurant in a city
This one would be more difficult. We were as far away from a city as it was possible to be.
How could I do it?
I closed my eyes, hatching a plan.
* * *
She was already serving dinner by the time I left my room.
Tonight, it was ribeye steaks, grilled outside. She was preparing a potato salad and corn on the cob to go with it. I could smell the steaks sizzling, making my stomach flip over. She sure was a goddamn great cook.
I walked past her, trying to gauge her mood. Would she look up at me, or would she pretend that she hadn’t seen me, like it had been for the past few days since our night together.
She looked up. So far, so good.
I smiled. She smiled back, blushing slightly. Even better.
“Steaks sure smell good.” I indicated the grill with a flick of my head.
Her smile widened. “The best there is,” she said. “Hank and the boys sure know how to get a good cut.”
“That they do,” I agreed. “Our Wyoming cattle are the best there is. You can keep your fancy wagyu and angus. These steaks are out of this world.”
“I have to agree with you there,” she said, pouring mayonnaise over potatoes in a bowl.
“Although.” I stopped, clearing my throat. How was I going to bring this up?
“Some of those fancy restaurants in New York sure know a thing or two about cooking.” I continued. She glanced up, questioning.
“I have to go there for a few days. Some business I gotta take care of, that I had forgotten about. “
She nodded, still looking at me with a question in her eyes.
“I was thinking. As a cook, it would be good for you to experience different styles of cooking. Would you like to come with me, and we could go to a fancy restaurant? You could choose. I don’t know much about them, myself.” I let out my breath.
She looked amazed. “You want me to come to New York with you? To eat at a fancy restaurant?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to seem over keen. “Why not? Like I said, I have to go there anyway, and I have to eat. We could do it together.”
She continued mixing the bowl, but slower. I could see her mind churning it over.
“If you want to come, I’m leaving next week,” I said. “Jessie can take over the cooking again here. Looks like she did a fine old job while we
were away camping.”
At the mention of camping, she blushed again. Our eyes locked.
We were both remembering the same thing, I’d wager. And the memory was getting me hotter than a goddamn chilli pepper left to dry in the sun. She broke the gaze, staring back down at the bowl. Then she looked up at me, with what looked like a challenge in her eyes.
“Okay,” she said. “I will. How long will we be gone for?”
“Just two nights,” I answered, in a neutral voice. Inside, I felt like jumping and fist pumping the air.
“I’ve never been to New York before,” she said.
“It’s great,” I said. I turned and started walking outside to the tables. Then I stopped and looked back, as if I had forgotten something.
“Just bring some comfortable clothes. We can go shopping for something fancy to wear out when we’re there.”
Her mouth dropped open, her arm suspended with the wooden spoon above the bowl.
I grinned.
This was going better than I ever thought possible. Tick, tick, tick. That list was growing smaller by the minute.
New York, look out.
* * *
On the day of our flight, she came out of her quarters with her suitcase packed and looking a million dollars. I had told her to just bring comfortable clothes, but she had obviously decided that wouldn’t cut the mustard in old New York town.
She was wearing a black halter neck dress, which emphasised her large bosom and clung to her hour glass frame like a piece of cling wrap. She was taller, too, in a pair of strappy heels. She had put her golden curls up, in a bun on the top of her head. She looked stunning. I could feel excitement start to churn in my stomach, and lower.
We had been friendly to each other in the week since my offer to take her away, but I hadn’t tried to push anything further. Slowly, slowly, was my mantra. It seemed to be working. She had relaxed further, and we had some great conversations. The sexual connection between us was still sparking, though. Sometimes, I had to forcibly restrain myself from just picking her up and carrying her to my bedroom. I could tell she was antsy, too. She would stare at my hands as if she was willing me to lay them on her.
“Ready?” I picked up her case, carrying it to the trunk of the car.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, walking behind me and climbing into the passenger side.
I had decided we would drive to the airport and leave the car in long term parking. Easier all round.
She put her seat belt on, glancing at me as I climbed into the driver’s side.
“Where are we staying in New York?” She asked as I started the car.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” I replied.
I put the car in gear and we drove off down the track, the ranch getting smaller in the rear-view mirror by the minute. Good bye to Wyoming, again. Just for a little while, this time.
I glanced at Gemma, who was looking straight ahead, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She was looking forward to this trip.
She sure was in for the surprise of her life.
Gemma
I stood on the pavement in New York, craning my neck to see the top of the hotel we were staying in. It was useless; it was so tall it made my head spin.
“We’re staying here?” I couldn’t believe it. It was the fanciest hotel I had ever seen in my life.
“We’re staying here,” he repeated. The bell hop opened the door for us, and I walked into a lobby so swanky it took my breath away.
Elegant cream-colored sofas and armchairs were everywhere, contrasting with the green of the tall pot plants. The goddamn floor was marble, polished so well I could see my face in it as we walked to the reception.
I was glad that I had made an effort, and worn a good dress. There were people everywhere, dressed so well I still felt a bit self-conscious that I would be targeted straight away as a country hick with no sense of style.
I glanced at Lance. He looked casual, but elegant. He obviously knew how to dress for the city. The faded denim jeans and check shirts he had worn at the ranch weren’t going to be seen here, I could tell.
“The reservation is under the name of Starling.” He was talking to the receptionist in a cool manner, like he had done this a million times before. I sometimes forgot he had travelled all over the world – really, Lance was as cosmopolitan as they came.
He was also so goddamn sexy it hurt to look at him.
“Ah, yes.” The receptionist peered into her computer screen. “Two rooms, adjoining?” She looked from Lance to me in a questioning manner.
“Yes, that’s what we want.” Lance didn’t look at me.
She handed two passes to him, smiling widely. There wasn’t a woman alive who could withstand the charm of Lance Starling. She would be tossing her hair back and batting her eyelids if we stayed any longer.
We walked away, toward the elevator.
“Adjoining rooms?” I questioned.
Lance punched the number of the floor we wanted into the elevator. We stood and waited for the doors to open.
As we walked in, he turned to me.
“I wouldn’t want you to get scared in the big city now would I, Miss Gemma?”
I looked at him, shaking my head slightly. But I smiled.
* * *
I gasped as we entered the rooms.
Windows dropped from the ceiling to the floor, revealing a breathtaking panorama of the skyline. I walked up to them, staring down at the city laid out like a board game at our feet.
“It’s amazing,” I breathed.
Lance came and stood behind me. I could feel his heat.
“I aim to please,” he said.
He walked away from me, and straight away I wanted him back.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” he was saying now. “I’m going to see to some of that business I was talking about. Be ready in about an hour, I am going to take you shopping for those fancy clothes.”
I swung my head around, dragging my gaze away from the view.
“Where are we going?”
He grinned. “The city is our oyster, Gemma. Wherever you goddamn want.”
* * *
I was showered and changed by the time he came back, eager to explore the city.
He took me on a whirlwind tour of it, and then it was time for shopping. I tried on dresses at Sak’s Fifth Avenue and Bloomingdale’s, pinching myself that I was shopping in the most expensive and iconic department stores in New York. It was every girl’s dream.
But we still hadn’t found The Dress. Lance bought me a few things, but he shook his head at a lot of stuff.
“We haven’t found it yet,” he said.
Eventually, at a little designer store, I found it.
It was deceptively simple. A wraparound cocktail dress in midnight blue. But when I saw myself in the mirrors after I tried it on, I gasped. It was made so well it highlighted all the best things about my figure and downplayed the bad.
I walked out of the fitting rooms and stood in front of Lance, who was sitting on a seat waiting for me.
“What do you think?” I twirled slightly, playing it up. I knew it looked good on me.
Lance sat forward, looking at me as if he had never laid eyes on me before. His eyes widened.
“I think we have found it,” he breathed. His eyes raked over me from head to toe. I could feel myself basking in his admiration.
He paid for it, and we left.
“I can pay you back for it,” I said, as we hit the pavement. I was starting to feel a bit guilty. The price of the dress could pay the debt on a small country. Not to mention all the other stuff he had bought for me. Plus the hotel rooms and the plane tickets.
He stopped walking, looking down at me. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “I invited you. I said I wanted to buy you some nice stuff. Don’t think anything more of it.”
We continued walking. Should I let it go, or should I insist? Was he trying to buy me?
&
nbsp; Did I care? Should I care? It was wonderful, being treated like a princess. It had never happened to me before.
I had always wanted Jack and I to do something like this, but he was always too busy, away with his work, or when in town, uninterested.
Stop it, I told myself. Leave Jack out of it. Stop thinking of the past, when you are living a dream. With the goddamn sexiest man that had ever walked the planet.
“Don’t stress, Gemma.” Lance must have seen my face betraying my emotions. “I was paid well with the SEALs, and haven’t spent a lot of it. This is my treat, and I’m not thinking that you should pay me back in another way, if that’s your train of thought. Whatever happens on this trip is because you want it.”
The words rested between us like a challenge.
What did I want?
Staring at Lance with the back drop of the city behind him, it was becoming clearer and clearer.
Lance
I couldn’t take my eyes off her, sitting across the table from me that night. She looked so beautiful it almost hurt.
The blue dress I had bought for her was dark against the creaminess of her skin, pushing her bosom up so that it sat before me like a provocation. If I closed my eyes I could be back under the stars in Wyoming with her, feeling those breasts, squeezing them…
I shook my head. Focus, Starling. I picked up my wine glass, raising it to her. She smiled and did the same.
I looked around the restaurant. It was fancy, all right. It had taken me a while to get a reservation here; I had to pull a few strings. But it was worth it to see the look of wonder and delight on her face as we had walked in.
It was one of those places where you laid your napkin on your lap and counted the cutlery to see which you should pick up for which course.
Cowboys & Bosses Page 24
