The Rival

by Joanne Rock

  Find a way to tempt her into another evening with him tomorrow.

  “I don’t run from complications, either,” she finally said, certainty evident in every word as she peeled away the blanket and tossed it on the seat in front of them. Sitting forward, she gave him her hand. “And I signed up for a date tonight.”

  Six

  Stepping over the threshold into the cabin perched above the Bitterroot River, Regina breathed in the savory scent of roasting spices along with the sweeter hints of nutmeg and clove. Devon took her coat from her before excusing himself to speak to the catering team.

  In short order, the three staff members exited through a back entrance, leaving Devon and her very much alone. Warming trays filled the kitchen island, while the dining area table had been set with festive red candles and decorated with scattered pine cones on green boughs. The table was tucked into a nook of bay windows, but the sky remained too dark to see beyond the glass into the densely forested woods.

  In the living area, a wood fire burned in the stone fireplace, casting an inviting glow over a deep leather sofa and a narrow holiday tree bare of all decoration except for white lights. The wide plank floors were covered with twill weavings in muted cream, gold and brown, in patterns she’d seen often in this part of Montana. Moose antlers hung over the fireplace.

  Sliding off her boots, Regina left them by the front door and padded deeper into the lodge, pausing near the holiday tree. She tested the soft needles of the balsam pine, surprised to discover it was fresh.

  A thrill shot through her as Devon’s footsteps sounded behind her. She’d thought long and hard about his invitation here before setting foot inside. And now that she had made up her mind to be with him, she wasn’t sure she could wait to kiss him again until after dinner.

  “Regina.” His voice was just over her shoulder.

  His nearness made her heart gallop faster, the warmth of him close enough to make her nerve endings tingle with awareness. She was done questioning it. Done asking herself why she had to be so attracted to this man of all people.

  The need for him was so strong she couldn’t think past it.

  She wasn’t sure how to express any of that as she turned toward him. But when she met his gaze, she realized that she didn’t need to try to articulate it. The sizzling connection sparked to life on its own, a magnetic draw so strong she couldn’t say who moved first—him or her.

  Their lips met. Fused. Arms wrapping around each other. Hers around his neck. His around her waist. The full-on impact of his body against hers was hot enough to take her breath away, stirring all her senses. She wanted time to appreciate every nuance of those sensations, and at the same time, she wanted more. Faster. Now.

  His hands skimmed up her sweater, pressing her tighter. Her fingers raked through his wavy hair. The ripple of muscle under his shirt was enough to make her stomach tighten with breathless anticipation. Her pulse pounded harder in every tiny vein, making her whole body feel like a drumroll, a vibrating precursor to the big finish she craved.

  When he broke the kiss, she made a sound of wordless protest, but then his lips fastened on her neck. She closed her eyes again to give herself to the feel of his tongue stroking along the exquisitely sensitive place behind her ear. Then the tender hollow at the base of her throat. Every sensual glide across her skin deepened the need to get closer. To be naked. To feel that good everywhere.

  Tugging the hem of his shirt higher, she dragged it up and off. In the moment when his arms left her, she instinctively moved closer, craving his touch again. Her gaze fell to his broad chest, hands splaying over the bared skin. She would have kissed her way along one flat pectoral muscle, but with a low growl, he took her hand and drew her deeper into the cabin.

  Following blindly—gladly—Regina passed the kitchen island into a darker hallway. Devon pushed open the door to the master suite. A desk lamp glowed on the far side of the king-size bed at the center of the room, the tan-and-gold-striped quilt half concealed by a rich red duvet folded at the foot of the mattress. She had a vague impression of high ceilings and dark wood beams, but then Devon’s arms were around her again and she forget everything except for his touch.

  His kiss.

  Her lips found his with new urgency. The dance of his tongue along hers ignited a sensual shiver. Her hips arched against his. Seeking. Wanting.

  His arms banded harder around her in answer, every inch of him steely and unyielding, making her melt. He stripped off her sweater and she shimmied out of her jeans, a new tension building inside her. She hadn’t dressed for seduction, and for a split second, she wished she’d draped herself in sexy black silk instead of staid pink cotton.

  Her gaze flicked up to his. He was taking her in with a frank male appreciation that sent any doubts fleeing. His focus narrowed to her breasts at the same time he slid aside the straps of her bra. Her breath caught as his eyes darkened, his fingers freeing the clasp just before his head lowered to capture a nipple between his lips.

  A paroxysm of sensations coursed through her. Her head tipped back, and she gave herself up to the wicked skill of the kiss. He lifted her, depositing her gently onto the bed before his mouth moved to the other breast. She felt the delectable muscles of his shoulders and back flexing as he moved.

  The ache between her thighs intensified. She lifted her hips, wriggling against him where his knee pressed into the bed. With a hungry groan, he lifted his head and shed his pants and his boxers. He retreated to the en suite bath for a moment and returned with a condom in hand, the packet already falling away in his rush to roll it into place. Heat and longing flooded her, her breathing fast and hard even though she’d done nothing more than kiss him. She thought she’d come right out of her skin if he didn’t touch her soon.

  Sitting up, she reached for him before he returned to the bed, her fingers trailing along the shadowed, incredibly sexy striations of his rigid abs. She didn’t have long to admire him, though, because he slid his hands under her thighs before walking his fingers up her hips to draw down her panties.

  The last garment between them finally removed.

  He lifted her off the bed and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around him, her eyes on his. When he sat on the bed, she was on his lap. Straddling him. Trembling like it was her first time because the sensations were so intense.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him while he edged his way inside her. Joining them.

  Pleasure crowded out everything else. Every touch, every taste, every stroke tantalized her, the passion building fast. She locked her heels behind him, holding him close while they moved in sync. Over and over.

  Heat seared her. She closed her eyes again, wanting to focus on the sweetness of what he was doing to her. On his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing over the peaks, his thighs flexing beneath her in a way that drove her right over the edge.

  Her orgasm blindsided her, her feminine muscles seizing again and again, wringing out every shred of possible pleasure. She felt Devon go still beneath her for a moment before the same wave caught him, too, his body going rigid as his release pumped through him. It was impossibly good.

  Pure and utter bliss.

  And all she could do in the aftermath was tip her head to Devon’s shoulder and cling to him because there were no words for what had just happened. Other people had sex. This?

  She was pretty sure the earth had moved.

  After long moments wrapped in each other’s arms, he found a way to disentangle from her, pulling her back to lie beside him on the bed. He drew the spare blanket over their bodies while she tried to catch her breath.

  Reason returned slowly, bringing with it new worries about what had just happened. As Devon smoothed back her hair, she was grateful for the long silence while she collected her thoughts. Tried to figure out what happened now.

  Because no matter how good i
t had felt, Devon Salazar remained a potential enemy, as well as someone who had the answers to the puzzle of her shattered past. And she couldn’t forget that, even for the sake of the best sex of her life.

  “I can hear you thinking,” he said finally, his voice a sexy whisper against her ear.

  For a moment, she wished that this could be just a normal relationship where she could lean into him and savor what had just happened instead of thinking through her every move. But she hadn’t come to Montana for romance. She needed to be careful around him, no matter how amazing he’d just made her feel.

  While she debated her approach, Devon spoke again. “Before we try to figure out where things stand, why don’t we put some clothes on and go have dinner?”

  * * *

  As he took another bite of a spiced scone with cinnamon glaze an hour later, Devon studied the woman across the table from him. She’d surprised him in so many ways tonight. First, when she’d come clean about her identity, it had rocked him. He’d imagined plenty of reasons for why she was pretending to be someone else, but it had never crossed his mind that Regina Flores had been born Georgiana Cameron, a woman caught in the crosshairs of the scandal created by his father’s book.

  Then, before he could wrap his head around what that meant, there’d been the unforgettable sex. Even now, after they’d enjoyed companionable conversation over roast duck, coconut-ginger yams and risotto with mushrooms, Devon’s thoughts kept returning to what they’d shared. The connection had been unlike anything he’d ever known, scorching away the suspicions and deceits until there was nothing but burning need. And she had seemed as taken aback by their chemistry as he had been.

  Now, after devouring the last of his dessert, he slid the dish aside and wondered how to proceed with the beautiful woman full of contradictions in front of him.

  “More wine?” He lifted the bottle of port while Regina scooped up a forkful of gingerbread shortbread, one of three choices the caterers had left for them.

  “No. Thank you.” Her dark hair curled in waves around her face, the strands tousled from his fingers. “I have to be a trail guide early tomorrow morning.”

  She had put her jeans and sweater back on, and had the sleeves of the bulky knit pushed up to her elbows.

  “You’re going to continue your job here?” He wondered why, since her cover was blown. “I mean, now that your identity is out in the open?”

  “I’m enjoying the horses.” She swirled her fork through the whipped cream dusted with tinted sugar. “I didn’t realize how much I missed the Arabian of my youth until I got into the barns here. And, as it turns out, I really believe in the ranch mission.”

  “The sustainable ranching?” Devon had spoken to a few of the Mesa Falls owners about that when he’d first arrived. Creating public awareness of the green initiatives on the land was the number one goal of the launch event that Salazar Media had been charged with executing.

  He was drawn to the authenticity in her voice as she spoke, the passion for a cause he felt strongly about, as well.

  “Yes.” Regina moved one of the red taper candles out of the way so they could see each other better across the small table. “I know the practices aren’t feasible for all ranches yet, but the more we learn about what works, the more we can incorporate holistic ranching ideas into livestock management everywhere. Someone has to go first.”

  “Agreed.” He sipped the rich red port from a dessert wine glass. “You sound as prepared as anyone on my staff to write the talking points for the launch party speeches.”

  She laughed lightly, the candlelight catching deep shades of cherry in her dark hair. “I studied hard to convince the ranch manager that I was the one for the job. And as for my identity being in the open, are you sure you want it to be?”

  “What do you mean?” Defensiveness had him sitting straighter in his seat.

  “Georgiana Fuentes being out of the public eye has allowed interest in A. J. Sorensen’s book to fade away.” She set her fork crossways on her plate and leaned back from the table. “Are you prepared for the renewed media focus?”

  Was she threatening to expose him?

  “No one knows my father wrote it,” he reminded her, treading carefully. “So public attention would likely be more problematic for you than for me, unless you plan to reveal Alonzo’s identity as the author.”

  “Right now, I’m more concerned with finding my own answers before media interest clouds the path,” she explained. “So I won’t be sharing that information—for now. But if you feel the need to out me, I wish you would give me fair warning. Tabloid media can descend with shocking speed.”

  He could see her point. But she’d also skillfully reminded him that she could send his life into a tailspin at any given moment if she blew the whistle on the author. All the more reason he planned to stick close to her throughout his stay at Mesa Falls Ranch.

  “I understand why you’d prefer to remain anonymous. I won’t share your real name with anyone.” He wanted to touch her, to draw her against him, but the conversation called to mind all the thorny issues between them.

  The mistrust.

  “Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection, the watchfulness in her gray eyes mirroring how he felt.

  Dammit.

  He reached for her in spite of the wariness, drawn by the connection that remained even now. He dragged his chair closer, his knee bumping hers under the table.

  “It wasn’t my intention to remind you of something painful.” Covering her hand with his, he squeezed her fingers. “I plan to share with you what I learn from my private investigator about my father’s reasons for writing the book.”

  He hadn’t pressed her about her endgame in coming to Montana, about deceiving him to get close to him. Was her goal simply to gain information, like she’d implied? Or was it revenge?

  With her body close to his, her dark hair spilling loose over one shoulder, and her cheeks lightly pink from the warmth or the wine, Devon found it tough to imagine her setting him up for some kind of payback plot. Especially after the feverish way they’d come together earlier, like they were in the grip of something bigger than both of them.

  “We could share our resources in that regard,” she offered, taking a sip from her water glass while, just outside the windows beside them, the moon made an appearance above the trees. “The man I hired to find the author behind the pseudonym might have information that would help your investigator’s efforts.”

  “I’m meeting her tomorrow. Should I ask her to contact you?” He hesitated. “For that matter, would you consider sharing your identity with her, if you trust her discretion?”

  He could hardly renege on the agreement he’d just made, but no doubt Regina could help with April Stephens’s efforts to follow the money trail from the book’s profits.

  She stared down at their joined hands for a moment before meeting his gaze. “As long as I can speak to her directly. Yes, that’s fine.”

  He heard what she didn’t say—that trust was going to come in degrees for both of them. It was the best he could expect, considering their tenuous relationship. He’d have to hope she didn’t reveal his father as the author of the book—at least not in the weeks leading up to his mother’s wedding. And she would have to trust him to keep her secrets and maintain her privacy under the new identity she’d worked hard to build.

  “Of course.” He let go of her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders, feeling the silky warmth of her hair as it brushed his sleeve. “I’ll let you make the call on how much you feel comfortable sharing with her. Just know that whatever you can tell her will probably help speed things along.”

  “Believe me, no one wants answers as much as I do.” The fierceness of the words matched the spark in her eyes. Perhaps she heard it, too, because she smiled belatedly, as if to soften the tone. “And now, as much as I hate to end
our date, I really should get back to the bunkhouse for the night.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay here, if you prefer.” He stroked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face better. “For that matter, there’s a spare bedroom if you’d rather have your privacy.”

  There was a pale red mark on her neck, an abrasion from his cheek, he guessed. He smoothed a finger over it, regretting that he’d marred her skin while he’d been kissing her.

  “Thank you, but my gear is at the bunkhouse. And it’s surprisingly fun rooming with a bunch of women. Sort of like the summer camp I never had.” She shrugged, a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “Besides, I’ve got an ear to the ground on what’s happening around the ranch that way. And from what you said about your father’s relationship with the owners of Mesa Falls, it sounds like there might be more to learn about him right here in Montana.”

  Devon stilled, realizing that he’d allowed sex to scramble his thoughts. He mentally rewound to their conversation on their horseback ride the day before when he’d told her as much. What else had he revealed about his dad before he discovered her true identity? Of course, he’d known to be cautious around her, so he hadn’t said anything sensitive. Still, it caught him off guard how quick she was to zero in on a detail like that.

  He kissed her cheek to try to hide his momentary surprise, still struggling to negotiate the balance between wanting her and maintaining his focus.

  “Good thinking.” He felt the small shiver go through her and wanted to explore it. To undress her all over again. But he would wait until they had more time. “The sleigh driver has returned to the ranch for the night, but I can bring you back in the all-terrain vehicle.”

  All of the cabins on the property came with the added convenience. But Devon’s thoughts were far from the corporate retreat’s luxuries as he retrieved Regina’s coat and hat, and they dressed to back out into the cold.

  He couldn’t help remembering her last observation of the night—that she planned to key in on his father’s relationships with the ranch owners. There was no doubt that Regina was sharp and quick-witted. And very committed to unearthing the truth behind his father’s book.