It Takes A Cowboy (Heart Of The West #5)

by Gina Wilkins

  “With her mother—Margaret’s cousin. But Carolyn doesn’t want to be cared for. She likes knowing she has an important job to fill.”

  That didn’t surprise Blair. The woman she had just met looked like a person who would prefer to pull her own weight. And she seemed to do so quite admirably here.

  Even as much as he relied on Carolyn, Scott was being very generous to provide her with a job and a home and facilities here—probably for as long as she needed them—just as he’d given Margaret a home, and who knew how many others. He’d donated his time to the bachelor auction and the charity rodeo, both for very worthy causes, and he’d been so kind to Jeffrey. It wasn’t easy resisting this footloose, but undeniably generous, cowboy. Somehow, she was going to have to find a way.

  Margaret entered the dining room then to serve dinner. She kept up a running dialogue with Scott while she did so, making Blair laugh at their witticisms. The meal was as delicious as Scott promised—crisp salads followed by glazed ham with garlic-roasted potatoes and tender asparagus spears.

  “Leave room for dessert,” Margaret ordered when she left them to their meals. “I’ve got strawberry shortcake.”

  “If I keep eating with you, I’m going to have to buy new clothes,” Blair told Scott ruefully when Margaret returned to the kitchen. “My old ones are going to be too small.”

  He smiled at her. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You don’t have an extra ounce anywhere.”

  She hastily concentrated on her meal.

  Margaret served the shortcake and then stepped back from the table. “Is there anything else I can do for you two this evening?”

  “No, Margaret, you’ve already gone out of your way for us. Thank you,” Scott replied warmly.

  “I’ll finish cleaning up the kitchen and then watch a little TV before bedtime. It was sure nice to meet you, Ms. Townsend.”

  “Please call me Blair,” she said with a smile, uncomfortable with the formality in such an informal household. “The dinner was excellent, Margaret.”

  The compliment seemed to please her. “I’m real glad you enjoyed it, Ms.—Blair.”

  “She likes you,” Scott confided when they were alone again.

  “I like her, too. You’ve assembled a very nice family here.”

  He seemed taken aback by her wording. “It’s hardly a family. This is my staff, Blair.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, more taken with her own description. It wasn’t hard to envision Jake as a father figure for Scott, Margaret a mother to him and Carolyn an older sister. And the men in the bunkhouse—brothers? For a man who claimed to need no family ties, Scott had surrounded himself with them.

  When they had finished their desserts, Scott stood. “Why don’t we move to the den? I’ll refill our coffee cups first.”

  That sounded quite cozy—too cozy, perhaps. She glanced at her watch as she rose to her feet. “It’s getting rather late....”

  He chuckled. “What’s the matter, Blair? Did your aunt give you a curfew?”

  “No,” she admitted. “She said she would spend the night if I was very late, but—”

  “Then let’s go get comfortable.”

  She swallowed and nodded, finding no reasonable excuse.

  Scott’s den had obviously been furnished for maximum comfort. It was filled with oversize leather furniture, state-of-the-art entertainment equipment and shelves of books, videos and CDs. It was a completely self-indulgent room—as typical of Scott as his generous gestures and impulsive kindnesses.

  “Very nice,” she approved, sinking into a thickly cushioned leather sofa.

  After shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair, Scott settled on the couch beside her. “Thanks. I enjoy it.”

  “When you’re here.”

  “When I’m here,” he agreed blandly.

  “Your staff obviously misses you when you’re away.”

  “They get along very well without me.”

  Blair sipped her coffee, deciding not to argue with him. After all, it was none of her business whether he took his responsibilities to his ranch and his employees seriously.

  Scott set his coffee cup on the table in front of them. “Blair, what’s wrong?”

  She gazed into her coffee cup as though she saw something fascinating there. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ve been acting a bit strangely all evening. Is something bothering you? Something from your work? The phone call you took before I picked you up?”

  She shook her head. “No, my work is going fine. I’m handling a couple of sticky cases, but nothing I can’t manage.”

  “Is it Jeff? Has he done something else to worry you?”

  “No. Not since the fight he got into. He’s been on very good behavior since then—at least, most of the time.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Really, there’s nothing wrong.”

  “Blair.” He took the cup out of her hands and set it beside his. Then he took both her hands in his, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I’ve known you for a very long time,” he said gravely. “Through thick and thin, we’ve come a long way together. I know your every expression. I know when you’re happy or sad or troubled or...”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so full of it.”

  His eyebrows rose comically. “I beg your pardon?”

  “We’ve known each other less than a month. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Oh, no?” His thumbs moved slowly over the backs of her hands. “You might be surprised.”

  Heat was starting to course through her from her hands outward. It was hard to keep her tone light and casual when he was turning her into mush by just holding her hands. His thumbs circled her knuckles, dipping between them.... She barely suppressed a shiver.

  “Would you like me to tell you what I know about you?”

  She was still looking at their hands. “Mmm? Oh, no, that’s not—”

  “You have a big heart,” he began, ignoring her protest—as usual. “You take your responsibilities very seriously—maybe a bit too seriously at times. You’re intelligent and competent and occasionally a bit intimidating. You’re prim and proper outside but warm and passionate on the inside—though you do your best to hide it, because you’re rather afraid of that side of yourself.”

  She was growing uncomfortable. “Scott—”

  “I think you’ve been disappointed in romance a time or two—probably by men who didn’t understand you or weren’t strong enough for you. You expect a lot from others—but no more than you demand of yourself. You worry too much and play too little, and you make me crazy when you wrinkle your nose and fuss at me.”

  She was in serious danger of melting right into his leather couch. “You’re making me nervous.”

  His mouth crooked into a lopsided—and devastating—smile. “I like the sound of that.”

  She shook her head. “I really don’t think—”

  He silenced her with a finger across her lips. “The problem is that you think entirely too much. Sometimes it’s better just to feel,” he said, leaning closer. “To experience. To surrender...”

  The last words were murmured against her lips. And all of Blair’s best intentions evaporated in the heat the kiss generated. She wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the mocking little voice that chided her for being so easily charmed by this man.

  His hands began to wander, sliding across the silky pantsuit, inching into territory he hadn’t explored before. For the first time, Blair knew what it was like to have his hands on her breasts, on her thighs. And for the first time, she allowed herself to touch in return. She slid a hand lingeringly across his solid chest and down to his flat, firm stomach. And then she dropped her hand to his knee and slid it slowly upward. His thighs were rock-solid, she noted with a thrill.

  He would feel so strong and powerful against her, she thought, her mind filling with images that made her have to swallow a groan. She had no
doubt that he would make her feel things she had never felt before. Things she had a sudden deep, desperate craving to feel.

  Scott shifted his weight and Blair found herself on her back beneath him, resenting the layers of clothing that still separated them.

  She wasn’t entirely oblivious to their surroundings, though such details occupied only a small part of her mind. Her voice emerged as a breathy whisper. “Scott?”

  “Mmm?” He had his face buried in the hollow of her throat, his lips moving against the pulse that hammered so erratically there.

  Almost involuntarily, she arched into his hand as he slowly kneaded her right breast, his talented thumb rotating against her nipple. She nearly forgot what she had intended to say. “What about...your housekeeper?” she asked, remembering. “Your assistant?”

  He scooted a couple of inches downward, bringing his mouth closer to her breasts. “They’re both in bed,” he assured her. “They consider this end of the house my private quarters, and they won’t come in without my permission.”

  Which meant she and Scott had complete privacy. She couldn’t use his staff as an excuse to bring this to an end. She would have to come up with another one.

  The problem was, she thought as Scott kissed the soft skin just above her low scoop neckline, she didn’t want it to end.

  “Blair?”

  She had to clear her throat to speak. “Yes?”

  “My room is just down the hall.”

  She went very still, knowing she could no longer be a passive participant. Scott was asking her to make a choice—stay and pursue this to its natural conclusion or bring it to an end and have him drive her home.

  She knew all the reasons she should choose the latter. There were many of them, and she had recited them to herself enough times to have them permanently engraved on her mind.

  It couldn’t go anywhere. Scott wasn’t interested in long-term relationships, and he wasn’t the type of man she wanted to be involved with, anyway. He couldn’t stay long in one place, and she wasn’t the type to wait patiently at home. She had a child to consider, and he had no responsibilities at all—at least, none that he seemed to take seriously. He was reckless and adventurous, she was careful and organized. There were so many reasons they were wrong for each other that she could spend the rest of the night listing them.

  She could think of only one reason to stay—because she wanted him so badly her toenails ached.

  Never in her life had she indulged in a one-night fling, and she had no reason to believe this would be anything more. She didn’t approve of them, didn’t trust them, didn’t think she could give so much of herself without an emotional involvement that could only hurt her when it ended. Lovemaking wasn’t casual for her, and it wasn’t recreational. It was momentous.

  So did she really want to take that step now, with Scott?

  He had lifted his head and was studying the emotions playing across her face. “Is it so difficult a decision for you?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  “Why?”

  Was he accustomed to women who expected nothing from him beyond a night of pleasure? Did he really think it should be that easy? “Because I’m afraid,” she admitted.

  “Of me?”

  “Of what I could feel for you...if I stop being careful.”

  His face softened. His eyes were warm when he cupped her cheek in his hand. “You don’t think I’m afraid of the same thing? Of feeling too much for you?”

  She imagined her dubious silence was answer enough for that improbable question.

  He stroked her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “If it means anything to you, I care for you, Blair. I like you. I admire you. I respect you. I think about you all the time. You make me want to make promises...and that’s enough to scare the socks off me,” he added ruefully.

  “I don’t want you to make promises,” she whispered. Not unless he was prepared to keep them.

  “Then what do you want, Blair? Do you want me to take you home now?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. The decision was hers. And for the first time in her adult life, she was tempted to give in to her Townsend recklessness—to throw consequences to the wind and take what she wanted. She had fallen hard for Scott McKay—there was no getting around that. When he drifted away, would she regret more that she had dared to find out what making love with him would be like...or that she had not had the courage to try?

  Scott smiled faintly and kissed the end of her nose. “Don’t look so worried and anxious, Counselor. You’re making me feel like the big, bad wolf. I’ll take you home.”

  Definitely the smart thing to do, she thought. And Blair had always made smart choices—at least until she’d impulsively purchased a cowboy at that bachelor auction. Yet something inside her seemed to have changed when she’d made the first bid. She’d discovered that she was a bit braver and more daring than she’d ever suspected.

  “I’m not ready to go home just yet,” she answered with a certainty in her voice that surprised even her. “I’d like to stay a little while longer.”

  His eyes glittered, but he held back. “You’re sure?”

  She slid a hand behind his neck. “I’m sure.”

  “Blair, I don’t want you to be sorry—”

  She couldn’t help laughing a little at the sudden reversal of roles. “Do you want me to stay or not?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he answered with a groan that could only be described as heartfelt.

  Her other hand slid slowly up his chest. “So what’s your problem, McKay?”

  His grin flashed. His shoulders relaxed. “Why, not a thing, ma’am.”

  “Then saddle up, cowboy,” she murmured, giving him a look intended to sizzle his synapses.

  Once Blair Townsend accepted a challenge, she gave it all she had, she thought in satisfaction.

  Scott looked both surprised and delighted. “Yee-haw,” he said, and smothered her smile beneath his.

  *

  SCOTT’S ROOM featured warm wood furnishings and dark, cozy plaids. Blair felt welcomed immediately—not that the decorating was solely responsible for that, she thought as Scott took her into his arms.

  They fell to the bed together, their clothing accumulating in tumbled piles on the plush carpet. Blair discovered that Scott was every bit as firm and solid as she had fantasized. Her fingertips traced the muscles beneath his skin, pausing at an occasional scar that gave evidence of his adventurous pursuits. The dusting of hair on his chest was soft and springy. She traced his spine from his nape to the hollow above his hips. Every inch of him delighted her.

  Scott seemed every bit as eager to explore her body. From the soft skin behind her ears to the ticklish arches of her feet, he caressed every part of her with tender fingers and lips. She was trembling and restless by the time he returned to her mouth, every centimeter of her body tingling and sensitized. There was a deep, powerful ache inside her, an emptiness she begged him in whispered requests to assuage.

  After swiftly donning protection—that was one area in which she had no intention of acting recklessly—Scott fulfilled every fantasy Blair had secretly harbored since the first moment she had seen him standing in the Lost Springs arena.

  And it was even better than she had dared to dream.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT TOOK A WHILE for reality to displace the euphoria that lingered after Blair’s sighs of pleasure had faded away. She forced her heavy eyelids open and found herself only inches from Scott. He lay on his stomach beside her, his face turned toward her, eyes closed, lips curved in a faint, satisfied smile. It was the realization that she had just tumbled the rest of the way into love with this irresistible cowboy that made her heart start to race again—this time with panic rather than passion.

  She shoved herself upright, reaching for her clothing in the same movement. If they left now, it would be around midnight when she got home, she thought. That seemed like an appropriate time for a fan
tasy to end.

  Her sudden activity startled Scott into opening his eyes. He reached out to catch her wrist. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s getting late. I should go home.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “My aunt will be worried if I’m too late.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Your aunt seemed like the understanding type.”

  “Yes, well, I have some things to do tomorrow. I need to get some sleep tonight.”

  “You can sleep here,” he suggested, sounding as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Call your aunt and tell her you’ll be there in the morning. I’ll take you home after we share a nice breakfast.”

  Spend the night? Wake in his arms? Have him smile at her over the breakfast table? Oh, no. That was definitely not the way to rid herself of silly daydreams. It sounded, instead, more like a way to create them.

  “No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she said, slipping out of his grasp. “I have to think about Jeffrey.”

  “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” he asked in resignation as he watched her scramble into her underthings.

  She pushed her arms into the sleeves of her pantsuit. “No.”

  Sighing, he rolled to the opposite edge of the bed. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll take you home.”

  Blair kept her eyes on the floor as she searched for her missing left shoe. She heard Scott pad into the bathroom and close the door, followed by the sound of running water. By the time he came out, she was fully dressed, her hair was brushed and she had straightened his tumbled bed.

  “In a bit of a hurry?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.

  Again, she found she was having trouble meeting his eyes. She wished she had her antacids—she could use one right now. “It’s getting late,” she repeated, finding nothing new to say.

  He stepped in front of her, his hands gently gripping her forearms. “Blair—take a deep breath.”

  Though she wasn’t sure why he’d said that, it seemed easier to comply than to argue. She inhaled deeply, then released the air slowly. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders.