Cowboys Like Us

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I…never heard that.”

  She’d never heard it either, but it made sense, considering how sex improved a person’s circulation. Maybe that would be a good subject for a future magazine article. “Well, next time you have a particularly big problem to work through,” she said, “you could try masturbating first and see if you don’t come up with a solution afterward.”

  He coughed and gazed out at the city lights. “Right.”

  “So how about it? Shall we brainstorm in the hot tub?”

  He glanced at the movie again. “With that going on? I don’t think so.”

  “Sorry. I forgot it was still on.” She clicked the remote and turned the movie off. She figured it had served its purpose of putting him in the right groove, but she didn’t want him to be distracted from the real thing by a filmed version.

  “Thanks.” He seemed relieved that the film wasn’t playing anymore.

  “You should try this hot tub,” she said. “I mean, think about it. How many chances will you have to sit in a hot tub on a terrace overlooking the Las Vegas Strip? Psycho maids who break into your room and destroy your stuff don’t come along every day, you know.”

  He glanced around the terrace and back at the hot tub. “Okay, maybe I will try it.”

  “Good. I promise we’ll talk about my career options.” She tried not to look overconfident. Once he was in the bubbles with her he was so going to be seduced.

  “I’ll go put on my—” He paused in the act of starting toward the bedroom. “I don’t have a suit.”

  “I thought of that.”

  He sent a piercing glance in her direction. “And before you suggest it, I’m not going in without one.”

  “I didn’t think you would. When I was shopping for mine I realized you wouldn’t have one, either. In fact, I realized you wouldn’t have underwear. I took the liberty of picking up a few things for you. I estimated you have a thirty-four waist. Is that close enough?”

  “I guess so, but you didn’t have to go buying me underwear.” His cheeks turned the color of brick.

  “What were you planning to do about that?”

  “I, uh, hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well, now you don’t have to.” She took another swallow of champagne. “You’ll find everything lying on the bed.”

  “Okay.” Looking very uneasy, he turned and walked into the living room, over the footbridge and into the bedroom.

  She figured in about five seconds she’d get a reaction. It only took four.

  “Keely, this underwear is way too small!” he bellowed. “And it’s colored.”

  “It’s not too small if you’re a thirty-four waist,” she called back. “It stretches. And don’t you get tired of wearing white all the time?”

  “No.”

  “Well, this is Vegas, Noah. It’s tough to find boring underwear in a resort boutique. I did the best I could.”

  Silence. “I guess I can make do with these for the weekend,” he said at last.

  “Good.”

  “I mean, it’s not like anybody will see them.”

  Except me. She smiled and finished off her champagne.

  “Where’s the bathing suit?”

  “On your—uh, on the pillow.” Earlier in the evening she’d turned down the bed and draped his skimpy suit over one of the pillows. The suit was black, to match hers, and she’d enjoyed the way it looked against the fine white linen pillowcase. But she’d known it would look even better cupping Noah’s generous equipment.

  Reaching for the ice bucket, she took out the champagne bottle, poured another glass for herself and filled Noah’s flute. The party was about to begin.

  She knew he’d found the suit when he began to laugh.

  “I double dare you,” she called out, surprising herself with the same phrase she’d used to taunt him when they were kids. And he’d risen to the bait every time except one, and they hadn’t really been kids anymore by then. On that hot summer night when she’d double dared him to make love to her, he hadn’t taken the dare.

  For one panicky moment she wondered if that iron will would assert itself again. She couldn’t let that happen. A flash of insight told her that success had become very important to her, maybe too important. But it was too late to worry about that now.

  “It’s that or come in naked,” she said. “The underwear won’t work. It becomes transparent when it’s wet.”

  When he didn’t reply, she tried to think of more inducements. “If you go back home and tell Jonas you stayed in a room with a hot tub on the terrace overlooking all of Las Vegas and you didn’t sit in it even once, you’ll never hear the end of it. You don’t have to mention me at all. Just tell him you were sitting there sipping good champagne and enjoying the view. That will drive him nuts. He—” She stopped speaking. She nearly stopped breathing. Noah stood in the doorway wearing the suit.

  Dear God, the boy she remembered had become a man. And what a man. The women in that skin flick could have their pretty-boy blond surfer with his carefully shaved chest. She’d take this broad-shouldered cowboy with chest hair the color of burnt sugar. No gym had shaped this body. He’d earned those muscles and scars during years of riding and roping.

  As her gaze traveled over him, she was filled with gratitude that he’d agreed to wear the suit. She was virtually certain few women had seen him like this—all that masculine beauty punctuated by a coal-black exclamation point outlining the most intriguing aspect of his physique.

  Thanks to his talkative friends, she knew that on the rodeo circuit he hadn’t been shy about using his considerable endowments to give pleasure to the women he’d met. And now fate had given her a chance to discover his talents before he chose a proper ranch wife and settled down to a life of dull married sex.

  She couldn’t remember the last time the sight of a nearly naked man had left her speechless with yearning. Finally she forced herself to say something. “C-come in. The water’s perfect.” She couldn’t help the stutter. He was so magnificent she couldn’t think straight.

  “And we’re going to talk about your career.”

  “Of course.” She’d agree to talk about Einstein’s theory of relativity if he’d just get in the hot tub with her.

  “I guess we have to talk somewhere. And you’re right. If Jonas finds out I didn’t take advantage of the stuff in this suite, he’ll carry on something fierce.” He walked over to the tub and climbed the steps. “But that’s not why I’m doing this.”

  She gazed up at him and wondered if she’d died and gone to heaven. Talk about a great camera angle. She swallowed. “So why are you?”

  “Because I figured out that I wanted to. It’s been awhile since I did something just because I wanted to.” He stepped down into the swirling water.

  “Oh.” It was the most she could manage as the bubbles inched up his body. When he finally sat across from her she had to work not to whimper because her view had been obliterated by the damn water.

  “This feels good.” He leaned back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. “Damn good.”

  She almost groaned out loud. She could imagine something else that would feel damn good, but she didn’t want to scare him off right when he was beginning to relax and enjoy what came his way. “I guess the ranch is quite a responsibility,” she said.

  “Don’t you know it.” He opened his eyes and glanced over at the view of the Strip. “I truly love that place, and I don’t begrudge all that I put into running it, but I haven’t had a vacation since I took over two years ago.”

  “Then it’s about time.” She handed him the champagne flute. “Here. This goes with the view.”

  He took the delicate crystal, his hand brushing hers, his gaze holding hers for a precious moment. “Thanks. I guess it does.” Then he cleared his throat and took a drink of the champagne. “It tastes expensive.”

  “It is.” She leaned over and lifted the bar towel to show him the bottle.

  He shook his
head. “I’ll have to take your word for it. Looking at the brand won’t tell me anything. I’m not into champagne.” He took another swallow. “But this isn’t bad for being a girlie drink.”

  “I’m glad you like it, because once you open a bottle this pricey, it’s criminal not to finish it off.” She didn’t want him to get drunk, but she wouldn’t mind having him loosen up a little more.

  He rolled the stem of the flute between his fingers. “Why do I have the feeling that you want to sit here and drink champagne instead of talk about your career plans?”

  “There you go again, setting us up for either-or. We can do both. I think talking about career plans while drinking expensive champagne is a great idea.”

  “Okay, then let’s start by you telling me what jobs you’ve had since you left the ranch.”

  She’d thought about this and was ready for the question. “I’ve waited tables, taken on some light secretarial work. Then there was the telephone soliciting.”

  He nearly dropped his flute. “Telephone what?”

  Excellent. His mind was firmly in the gutter. “I made cold calls for a carpet-cleaning company,” she said.

  “Oh. That kind of soliciting.”

  “What did you think I meant? Phone sex?”

  “No! Of course not. I mean—” He paused to gulp some more champagne. “Hell, never mind. Carpet cleaning. Okay. What else?”

  “Let me put a head on that for you.” She lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and waited until he held out his glass.

  He hesitated.

  “You said it yourself. It’s a girlie drink. Not much punch to it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He extended his glass so she could fill it again. “So, what else have you done?”

  “A little bartending.”

  He nodded. “What else?”

  She adjusted the straps on her bathing-suit top for no reason other than to jiggle her breasts and make him notice. “You probably don’t want to know all the jobs I’ve had,” she murmured.

  As she’d planned, his gaze drifted to the twin triangles of black material that barely covered her nipples. “Maybe not,” he said, a thread of huskiness winding through his voice. “How did the…uh…carpet-cleaning job work out?” Bringing his attention back to her face appeared to take great effort.

  “Not too bad. People seemed to respond to my voice on the telephone. Want to hear my sales pitch?”

  “Sure.” He took another big swallow of champagne.

  “I think I can remember it. Let me concentrate for a second.” Keely really had spent about a week calling for a carpet cleaner, and she’d had such bad luck in the first day that she’d modified the phone message they’d given her without telling them. Then her calls had been wildly successful as long as she’d talked to the man of the house. But when the president of the company had discovered what she’d been saying, he’d fired her. The man had completely lacked a sense of humor.

  “Here goes,” she said, holding his gaze across the foaming water and lowering her voice to a sultry purr. “’Hey, there, big guy. Can we talk dirty? Dirty carpets, that is. Your carpet needs your attention, it craves your attention. It deserves to be stroked firmly, massaged and caressed until it ripples beneath your hand, and then, my friend, it needs to be washed clean and…sucked…thoroughly and completely, until it springs up, aroused to its full…potential. How soon would you like this done…to your carpet?’”

  During her recitation Noah’s breathing had become labored and his gaze turbulent.

  She wasn’t completely calm, herself. If he didn’t make a move soon, she was going to be in bad shape. “So,” she said, smiling brightly, “what do you think? Do I have any talent for sales?”

  “I think…” He paused and cleared the huskiness from his throat. “I think you need to go to bed.”

  Her pulse raced with anticipation. “And you will…?”

  “Not.”

  Damn. “But you want to,” she murmured, willing to bet a year’s salary that beneath the foaming water he was completely erect.

  The muscles in his jaw worked. “Yes. I want to.”

  And so did she. So very, very much. She was going crazy with the wanting. “Noah, what could it possibly hurt? We’re two free, consenting adults. Both of us are dying to consent. I don’t understand why we can’t go into that bedroom and have a wonderful time. For that matter—” she slipped the straps of her bathing-suit top off her shoulders “—we could begin the fun right here.”

  “Keely, don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Enjoy the movement of the water against my skin?” Putting down her champagne flute, she unhooked her top and allowed it to float away. A girl could only hold herself back for so long before she cracked. She wiggled out of her bottoms and they floated to the surface, too.

  “You know what I mean,” he said in a tight voice.

  “Yes, and you know what I need.” Cupping her breasts, she rose to her knees on the bench seat so that the foaming surface tickled and played with her nipples until they were taut with desire. “This feels good, Noah. Do you think it’s wrong for me to like it?”

  Never taking his gaze from her breasts, he shook his head.

  “And right above this bench there’s a water jet. If I position myself just right, I can enjoy that, too.” She found the pulsing stream and tilted her pelvis back. There. Mmm. It wasn’t Noah’s touch, but he still seemed to have scruples. “Is that wrong?”

  His tortured gaze held hers. “No,” he said, his voice rasping low in his throat.

  “I want you, Noah.” The pulsing water worked quickly on her already aroused body. Her breathing grew shallow and her heart pounded with excitement. She’d never dared so much in front of any man, but now that she’d begun this little exhibition she found that it packed its own kind of thrill.

  She could tell he was going insane watching her. Good. He deserved to go insane.

  “Yes, I really want you,” she whispered. “But if I can’t have what I want…” She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips. “I’ll take what I can…get.” As the tremors of her orgasm overtook her, she squeezed her nipples hard and gasped with pleasure. Knowing he had watched every second intensified the sensation more than she would have believed. Breathing hard, she leaned back against the edge of the tub.

  Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  He was destroyed. She’d never seen anybody in such agony in her life.

  Taking a long, shaky breath, she braced a hand on the side of the tub and coaxed her rubbery legs to support her as she stood. “Well, that sure was fun,” she said. “You really should have come along.” Retrieving the two pieces of her suit, she climbed out of the tub and walked dripping and naked into the living room and over the footbridge.

  9

  NOAH HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED anything like the rush of watching Keely making love to the hot-tub jets. And the fact that she’d deliberately done it while he was sitting there totally fried his circuits. If he’d come upon her when she hadn’t known he was there—well, that would have been wild enough. But she’d chosen to have him see this, knowing full well how much he wanted her. She’d hoped he’d break.

  He would not break. In this charged moment he couldn’t remember the reason, exactly, but he knew control was very important.

  Until Keely had snuggled up to that water nozzle, he’d thought he understood sexual frustration. He’d kidded himself that he was strong enough to deal with it, no matter what the temptation. But the frustrations he’d lived with in the past were small change compared to the gut-wrenching, groin-pounding urges that shook him now. Keely had pushed him into unknown territory.

  The water churned around him, teasing him, taunting him with liquid fingers that had brought Keely relief while he remained in straining agony. A jet of water gurgled against his back, suggesting possibilities, beckoning him to follow Keely’s lead. Beneath that scrap of material some idiot designer called a bathing suit he swelle
d until it seemed the tiny garment couldn’t hold him any longer.

  In a wild frenzy he reached beneath the water and ripped it away, tearing the seams in his eagerness to be rid of the restraint. His penis surged free. With a moan of surrender he stood and turned toward the rippling stream of water.

  Hands braced against the edge of the hot tub, he eased his rigid flesh into the outer swirl of the pulsing jet. Oh, God. This wouldn’t take long. The lights of the Strip blurred into a river of color as his climax crept ever nearer.

  Finally, holding back a groan with clenched teeth, he gripped the edge of the tub and shuddered as the milky evidence of his passion rose and merged with the bubbling water. Struggling for each breath, he let his head sag between his still tense shoulders.

  “Nice going,” she said softly from the doorway behind him.

  He refused to turn around. “Go away,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I will. I only came back out to bring you a robe, so you wouldn’t get chilled.”

  His laugh sounded like a rusty saw against a fence post. Chilled. Never in a million years.

  “I’m leaving it here on a chair.”

  Still he didn’t turn around. No telling what she was wearing, or not wearing. And if he looked at her, he would want her again as much as before. The picture of her making love to the jet of water was too fresh for him to even think of blotting it out of his mind.

  “That little teaser of relief won’t be enough, you know,” she murmured. “At least, it wasn’t for me. You’re such an endearingly stubborn man, Noah. But if you decide to bend that iron will of yours, I’ll be in the bedroom. We could have a very good time.”

  He wondered if she’d have a very good time without him. Once again he tried to remember why he shouldn’t make love to her. He was positive he’d had a good reason, back when he could think. And because he knew that eventually he’d be able to think again, he was determined to wait out this period of insanity.

  When he heard nothing more from the vicinity of the doorway, he cautiously looked over his shoulder. She wasn’t there. Climbing out of the tub he felt shaky as a new foal. Sure enough, a white terry robe lay across one of the rattan patio chairs.