by Anne Marsh
Cabe Dawson, in the flesh, packed a brute-force sensuality that made no bones about the raw power of the man. Sure and confident, he ran this ranch and everyone on it. Cabe had been a mostly benevolent dictator—Rose had always acknowledged that—but he’d never forgotten he was the man in charge, and he’d always done what he believed was best for Blackhawk Ranch.
There’d been no place for her in that world of his.
She’d never belonged to Cabe Dawson like that, and he’d never seen her as more than just another one of his younger brothers’ friends. He might yell, but he wouldn’t hurt her. Anger and relief—and some other unwelcome emotion—flooded her. Before she could think it through, she wound up and chucked the shampoo bottle at him.
“You scared me half to death, Cabe!” she yelled.
He fixed her with a hard stare as one hand shot up effortlessly and caught the plastic bottle, setting it down carefully by her things.
She was different now, she reminded herself. She didn’t need or want his attention. Not anymore.
“Hell, Rose,” he drawled. “This is my land. I’d ask what you’re doing here, except it’s obvious. You shouldn’t be out here, swimming all by yourself,” he pointed out calmly. That calm voice was the voice of reason. Logical. So damned right when she was always wrong. “It’s dark. You’re alone. Does anyone know you’re here?”
“I’m perfectly safe, Cabe.” She could hear the tightness in her own voice, but the adrenaline was subsiding, and no way she’d admit he was right. She never had before, and she sure as hell wasn’t starting now. Let a man like Cabe Dawson know he had the upper hand, and he’d walk all over you. “I practically grew up here. Only people likely to be out here are you and your brothers.”
He shook his head. “Likely doesn’t mean certain, Rose. Shit happens all the time.”
“Yeah.” She carefully slipped her head backward, keeping her chest underwater. There were stars overhead—how long had it been since she’d watched the impossible crispness of this black sky with its countless pinpricks of light? Her fingers worked through her hair, washing out the last remnants of shampoo. “I know all about shit happening, Cabe. I don’t need a lesson from you there.”
He just kept on eyeing her, and she would have paid the fortune she didn’t have to know what the man was thinking, because there was a hot lick of something in those dark eyes of his. The Dawson brothers were all big, dark men with a family tree rooted on their mother’s side in the Spanish conquistadors who had claimed vast swaths of California for their own. There was an almost possessive gleam in his eyes as he stood there.
Watching her.
She couldn’t be sure how much of her was actually on display in the dark, but he was standing next to her underwear. He knew damned well that she was swimming naked. Worse, her awareness of him created, as it often had, a sweet, hot ache in her that she knew she shouldn’t welcome. The sensation had her pressing her thighs together; thankfully, even he couldn’t see that well.
So, she still wanted Cabe Dawson. Despite herself, then and now. She still wanted a cowboy who’d often infuriated her but never shown the slightest interest in her. Had probably barely even noticed her except as a neighboring nuisance. She’d done her best to forget him, had stayed away for years hoping to do so. Letting him know she still wanted him would be a mistake of monumental proportions.
He hadn’t wanted her eight years ago. He wouldn’t want her now.
And yet, he leaned forward, hands resting on his knees, and the sheer male power of him stole her breath away. Problem was, she’d always had a good imagination. She’d imagined all too clearly, before she left Lonesome the last time, what it might be like to teach Cabe Dawson a thing or two. On her terms.
“If you don’t want me to teach you a lesson,” he said, as if reading her mind, reaching down a hand to haul her out, “don’t make me come in there after you, Rose.”
She ignored that hand and got on with washing the rest of the suds out of her hair.
“I mean it.” That rough growl of his made her wetter than she already was, and that just made her mad.
Yes, the Dawson brothers were all big men, and she recognized the protective, overbearing stance Cabe was taking now. This man didn’t think she needed to be where she was, and he’d decided to help her out with a little redirect. His intentions might be sweet, but she’d left “sweet” behind her in the town where she’d grown up.
“I know you won’t come in after me, Cabe.” If he did, he’d lower himself to her level, and that wasn’t like Cabe Dawson at all. She’d never once seen him yield when he’d decided to make a stand.
“You sure?” He tossed that hat of his aside. For a moment, she thought she had him.
“I’m naked,” she pointed out. Just in case he’d missed that little fact.
She still couldn’t read him, but she’d learned years ago how to rile him up. That knowledge was bittersweet. She wasn’t the same girl she’d been all those years ago, but he hadn’t liked that girl anyhow.
“What you are is late,” he growled. “You were supposed to be in that lawyer’s office months ago to sign the papers to settle Auntie Dee’s estate. And you never showed for the appointment we finally rescheduled for last week.”
Damn it, she didn’t want to have this conversation. Not right now, not while she was naked and he wasn’t. Cabe Dawson didn’t need that kind of advantage.
“I . . . had things to do.” The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Right.” He stared at her. “What kind of things did you have to do, Rose, that were more important than coming up here and settling the estate of the woman who all but raised you?”
She didn’t like the guilt or panic that shot through her, an itchy, sickening coil of unwelcome emotions. She couldn’t explain why she hadn’t come, why she hadn’t been ready. Why she couldn’t face the empty house or Cabe Dawson or any of the pieces of the life she’d had in Lonesome.
Fighting back a shiver, she crossed her arms over her breasts as her legs treaded water. If she’d started any one of those tasks, she’d have been that much closer to failing. To not getting it right. So she’d waited. And then waited some more, until she’d failed anyhow and could stop worrying.
“Maybe I just wasn’t ready until now,” she suggested, as if she hadn’t had lists of tasks to check off and a timeline for doing so. As if she hadn’t frozen in panic and done nothing. Sweet procrastinator, she could almost hear Auntie Dee whisper. Someday, you’ll figure it out, get yourself started.
Cabe didn’t move from his crouch by the side of the swimming hole, but that big body of his screamed frustration. He wasn’t buying the line she was selling. Cabe Dawson always had been good at recognizing bullshit.
“Not ready.” His voice was too quiet. “Well, that’s a hell of a thing, Rose, when you’ve been asked repeatedly to come on up here, and you’ve never said why you couldn’t. What did you think was going to happen? We’ve all been cooling our heels waiting for you.”
She stared straight ahead. There was the quiet disappointment, the disapproval she’d expected. She’d never pleased him, had she?
“I should have explained,” she agreed. She should have. Of course she should have—and, instead, she’d procrastinated. Waited, like always, until the last possible moment.
When she didn’t explain now, he waited her out, letting the silence stretch between them.
“But I wasn’t ready, okay, Cabe?” She wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she blinked furiously, wanting to curse him while she just kept right on bobbing in place.
“Hell, Rose.” His hand came up, then fell back to his thigh. “We would have been happy to wait for you to be ‘ready’—you know that. But, darlin’, you have to either show up or call.”
“You just want to tear down the house and use the land,” she accused.
“I do.”
He didn’t bother sugarcoating his intentions, just hit her low and hard with the trut
h. A truth that wasn’t going to become reality if she had her way.
“What if I don’t want to sell it?”
“Hell, what else are you going to do with that piece of property? You’re obviously not the settling-down type, Rose, and it takes cash to run a place like that. A steady income.”
“You don’t think I could do it? What if I want to fix the place up, make a home for myself here?” she said, her heart beating a little faster at her own audacity.
He didn’t point out that she’d never before showed any inclination to do so. Then again, he’d had no way of knowing that she’d been hoping to make a success of herself, then come home to care for Auntie Dee and carve out a better life for both of them in Lonesome.
She’d just expected to do so before she lost Auntie Dee.
“Time to get out, Rose.” He reached out to her again, ignoring her question. For a moment, temptation beckoned. One good tug—he wouldn’t be expecting that—and she’d have him in the water. He simply waited there, so big and tough and confident; she wanted to take him down a notch or two. Put him at a disadvantage.
Before she could overthink it, she put her hand into his. His fingers wrapped around hers, the muscles tensing to pull her out. Instead, she pulled, hard.
That large, hard, clothed body hit hers, his rough curse filling her ears as they both went under. The delicious coolness of the water closed over her head, and she went down, letting the weight of his body pull her under.
Finally, she’d gotten to him. Same way he always did to her.
Cabe hit the water hard, twisting to spare Rose his full weight, because damned if he had seen this coming. He wasn’t a small man. And the impact had her slender frame beneath his, both of them going down deep beneath the surface.
The cold shock of the water felt good, even if he hadn’t planned on swimming in his clothes. Or his boots. Rose bucked, pushing away from him instinctively, fighting to come back up to the surface, and his hands brushed her soft skin. It would be so simple to let his fingers move of their own accord, trace that slick channel between her legs. Her body was warm and supple, despite the chill of the water, and he wanted to pull her close.
But she wasn’t his to touch. She wasn’t a woman flirting with her lover. She thought he was her former best friends’ older brother. Fuck. He didn’t feel the least bit avuncular. Despite the cold water, he was rock hard. If he was being honest with himself, he had been since the moment he’d seen Rose swimming nude.
Getting an arm beneath her breasts, he kicked upward with powerful strokes, bringing her with him toward the surface. He wasn’t leaving her behind. Rose had always been resilient, but this wasn’t a thing to chance. Not in the dark, where it would be impossible to find her underwater if something went wrong.
Three hard kicks, and he broke the surface, her back pressed to his front. She squirmed desperately, her hands coming up to push at the arm locking her against him.
“Be still,” he ordered. Damned if he was going back under until they had a few things straight, he and Rose. “Did you think this one through, Rose?”
Her soft laughter was an unexpected answer. He never had been able to read her. “No, but you think too much, Cabe.”
No man was entirely a safe bet when alone in the dark with a woman who was naked; Rose’s deliberate blindness needed to end. He was safe—mostly—but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, be so lucky always. “You’re alone out here,” he pointed out roughly. “Naked. In the dark. What do you think could happen, Rose?”
“You wouldn’t hurt me, Cabe.” She was right, but she shouldn’t make that assumption.
He let his thumb brush the underside of her breast where she was so soft. “You so sure I’m safe, Rose?”
He wasn’t going to hurt her—never that—but he wasn’t a fool, either. She’d come up here expecting her inheritance from Auntie Dee. Somehow he had to tell her that she hadn’t really inherited property. She’d inherited a mortgage. He owned the land, not she. No way that truth wouldn’t hurt, which was why it would be better all around if she just took the check he planned to offer her and didn’t look into the matter too closely.
“What else would you be, Cabe?”
Some primitive part of him responded fiercely to the unmistakable challenge in her voice.
Unfortunately, Rose Jordan had always loved challenging him, and she kept right on talking.
“I swam here for years. Why shouldn’t I now?”
She tried again to twist away from him. For a moment, he wanted to tighten his arms around her. Show her just what could happen when she teased him like that. Wouldn’t be right, though, so he simply held on. Somehow, though—and he wasn’t sure when or how things had changed—Rose was different. What he felt for her wasn’t different—if he was being honest with himself—but now it felt more right.
His dick throbbed in agreement, the cold water no real deterrent to what she was stirring up inside him.
She froze—no way she hadn’t felt that, and he wasn’t flattering himself on his size. She was plastered up against him, and his clothes were soaked through.
“I’m asking again, Rose,” he whispered, his mouth by her ear, where the scent of those damned apples was strongest. “You so very sure I’m safe?”
She shoved at his arm. “Let me go.”
He let go, his unruly dick fighting to overrule the good manners that had been drilled into him. He wanted to hang on to her, haul her up really close until she stopped asking questions and the only demands she issued were sensual ones. But that couldn’t happen.
“You’re the one who started this, Rose. I’ll be happy to finish it, though.”
She cut through the water with fast, sure strokes. There was a teasing flash of bare arms and legs as she hauled herself out of the swimming hole. She waxed, he realized, and that little strip of soft, soft hair on her otherwise bare pussy hid a part of Rose Jordan he wanted to be kissing sometime really soon.
She bent down, reaching for her towel, and his libido exploded. Christ, didn’t she care what she looked like? What that luscious body of hers did to him? Was she deliberately teasing him—or was he still just her friends’ older brother, hardworking and sexless?
Treading water, he watched her. His boots were uncomfortably heavy with wetness, but he couldn’t just haul himself out of the water sporting the erection he had.
Maybe she sensed his impatience, because she didn’t bother getting dressed, just scooped up her clothes and beat a retreat.
“Night, Cabe,” she called, making tracks for the Honda. Damned if she wasn’t going to drive away bare-assed naked. “See you tomorrow,” she hollered back at him.
“Hell, yeah,” he growled, swimming for the ledge.
Chapter Two
“Nine hundred feet. I got two, maybe three gallons per minute.” The driller looked up from the test hole he’d driven yesterday, waiting for Cabe and his brothers to weigh in.
Hearing the driller call off those numbers was too much like watching three cherries spin past on the slots when you were down to your last dollar. Of course, both of his brothers knew as well as he did that this had been a long shot.
He fisted his hands on his thighs. Three gallons a minute wasn’t enough to take a damned shower, and he had cattle to water. It wasn’t nearly enough, and they all knew it. The brothers gave the bad news a few seconds of respectful silence. The driller just waited. The man would get paid by the foot, so he didn’t care much either way what happened now.
“We’re empty.” Seth hadn’t stopped restlessly moving since they’d ridden out to the drill site an hour ago. If he took those dust-covered boots of his back into the ranch house they shared, their housekeeper would be having words with them all. Again.
“Party’s not over yet.” Rory nodded toward Cabe and leaned back on his ATV, one booted foot propped on the bumper. There were shadows beneath his brother’s eyes. As Cabe’s foreman, he didn’t particularly like these answers, either. “You wa
nt to drill deeper, Cabe?”
The ranch belonged to the three of them. Always had and always would, as far as he was concerned. Rory and Seth might leave, but his brothers both knew the door was never shut. Whatever they needed, he’d do his damnedest to provide. And, so far, they’d always come back. Always been there to lend a hand when the work on the ranch got to be too much for just one man.
So his brothers, both of them, knew protecting the ranch meant everything to him. He’d carved out an empire for his family through sheer sweat and determination and raw, brute force. Before he’d taken the reins, his family had run cattle for decades, scraping out a living until the beef market dried up once and for all and forced them to diversify or throw in their cards. Cabe had diversified. Orchards. Horses. Whatever it took to add to the ranch’s holdings and put by an ever-growing rainy day nest egg in the bank. He’d thrown himself into the day in, day out battle to force the land to yield a living.
Drilling dry holes to nowhere wasn’t a strategy that won a man battles.
The driller looked over, still waiting for the go-ahead. The man would drill straight through to China as long as the checks cleared. Unfortunately, all the money in the world couldn’t find water where there was none.
“Day’s getting on,” Rory suggested impatiently. “I’ve got work back at the barn. I’m thinking we’re done here.”
“Someone’s not enjoying the party yet.” Seth shook his head, still gazing at Cabe while tugging his fingers through his tangled hair as he blinked sleepily. His brother’s eyes made him look like a big cat, all lazy sensuality as he stretched, but Cabe could read the question there clearly enough. How far did he want to take this?
“We’re out of here. Plug the test drill up,” Cabe said, not ready to answer questions. Nodding to the driller, he headed for his own ride. “Let’s head back to the house.”
He straddled his ATV, considering his next move. He knew what it had to be. The answer was as obvious as the solid presence of the sun-warmed leather seat beneath his ass. Auntie Dee’s place.
