The crowd was mostly seated tonight, at the tables closest to the stage. Todd Dereemer was singing something slow and sweet, a love song. She was glad she was coming in on the end of that one. Todd was permanently love-struck, and she usually liked hearing his songs about his wife and kids—but tonight she wasn’t in the mood.
He spotted her walking in and flashed her a grin, swinging into her favorite:
Rodeo Queen, Rodeo Queen
Cutest little girl that I ever did see.
Rodeo Queen, Rodeo Queen
My fantasies have a Western theme…
Jodi smiled, her mood brightening. She was definitely home now.
She scanned the room. A few men in Wranglers and hats were playing pool on the far side of the room, and another gaggle of cowboys was gathered near the dartboard, though they seemed more interested in checking out the female customers than playing. At a corner table, a group of men were laughing raucously. She didn’t recognize anyone except Teague and Courtney, who were seated at a table watching the band. Courtney had one hand on Teague’s knee, which was jouncing nervously in time to the music. He looked stiff and uncomfortable.
Good.
No, not good. Indifferent. That was how she should feel. She didn’t care. Didn’t care one bit.
Jodi made her way up to the other end of the bar and perched on a stool with a torn red vinyl seatback. “Vodka tonic,” she said to the bartender. She didn’t recognize the guy. Years before, she’d known everybody who set foot in the Snag. Now, it was just a bunch of strangers.
“Comin’ right up.” The bartender, a thin man with dark eyes and the nervous mannerisms of a scared rabbit, hustled over to the stainless steel counter and started mixing her drink. She stared resolutely at the bottles behind the bar for a while, but gradually, her gaze slid sideways to see what Courtney and Teague were doing. Courtney had taken her hand off Teague’s leg, and he was leaning forward, watching the band as if his life depended on it.
The bartender shoved a tall glass across the bar. Jodi rummaged in her purse, but before she could find her wallet a large, masculine hand reached around her, thrusting out a five-dollar bill.
“I buy for the lady,” a deep voice said.
Jodi turned and looked up to meet a perfect, gleaming smile, set in a tanned face topped by a mop of artfully tousled dark hair. She couldn’t help staring. The guy was perfect—tall and muscular, with male-model cheekbones and dark, flashing eyes. Tight off-white pants clung to his form like Shakespearean tights and disappeared into black leather knee-high boots. A polo shirt, open at the neck, tightened over a healthy set of pecs.
He met Jodi’s eyes and she realized her mouth was hanging open. This had to be one of Skelton’s Argentine polo players. He was tanned and athletic-looking, and the beard shadow stubbling his square jaw indicated there was no shortage of testosterone coursing through that long, lean body. Jodi felt suddenly warm. She put her hand to her lips to make sure she wasn’t drooling.
Nope. They’d gone dry.
Chapter 24
“Uh… thanks.” Jodi stared in fascination at the man’s face. She’d never seen anyone that good-looking outside of a magazine.
“You are most welcome.” He sat down beside her, keeping one arm on the back of her stool. Leaning forward, he fixed his eyes on hers and upped the wattage of his perfect smile. He looked like an ad for men’s cologne—the kind that makes ordinary mortal men believe that a dab of fragrance can earn them instant studhood—but he smelled like leather, fresh cut grass, and something else—something indefinable. Strength, maybe, or wind.
“I am Gustaldo,” he said. “And you?”
“I am… I am Jodi,” she said, suddenly embarrassed by her plain-Jane name. She should be called Esmeralda, or at least Tiffany or something. How could Gustaldo bestow his intoxicating attention on a mere Jodi?
“Joh-dee,” he said.
Maybe her name wasn’t so bad after all. The way he drew it out, it sounded like it tasted good.
He looked like he tasted good. The guy radiated heat—heat, testosterone, and sex.
She blushed, and he sat back a fraction of an inch, as if giving her room to breathe, but he was still smiling like he was contemplating some sweet dessert. His favorite sweet dessert. She felt her insides go all mushy and hot. Maybe his favorite dessert was Molten Lava Cake.
“Would you like to join me and my friends? We have a table,” Gustaldo said.
Friends? He has friends? she thought. There are more?
She glanced over at the corner, where three more men were watching her. One of them raised his glass in a silent salute; and another gave Gustaldo a grinning thumbs-up. They were all stunningly good-looking, although none of them were quite as over-the-top hot as Gustaldo.
“Ah, no,” Jodi said. “No, thank you. I’ll just—my friends are over there.” She gestured toward the table where Teague and Courtney had been a moment ago. Now there was only Courtney, but even hanging with Courtney would be safer than sitting at Gustaldo’s table. His three friends were nearly as handsome as he was, and if they emanated the same heady essence of maleness she’d probably either pass out or rip her clothes off if she got within ten feet of them.
She glanced around, looking for Teague, and saw him coming up behind her.
“She’s with me,” he said, glowering at Gustaldo.
“Pardon me. But you are with Miss Skelton, no?” Gustaldo flashed his winning smile Teague’s way, but Teague only scowled.
“You cannot have all the beautiful women,” Gustaldo said. “You must choose, my friend.” He let his hand drop from Jodi’s seatback to hook around her waist. “I am hoping you will choose Miss Skelton.”
Teague looked from Courtney to Jodi as if he couldn’t make up his mind whom to choose—which made up Jodi’s mind in an instant.
She chose Gustaldo, dammit. It served Teague right.
“It’s okay, Teague.” She flashed him a teasing grin. “I’m going to hang with Gustaldo and his friends for a while. Like you said, coming here’s a great way to meet people.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“I’m fine, Teague.” She turned away from him and smiled at Gustaldo, who shifted his hand slightly where it was gripping her waist. The movement sent a ripple of heat through her, along with a spasm of alarm. This guy’s seduction skills were in the red zone, and he wasn’t even trying. It was fun to make Teague jealous, but she was playing with fire.
Fire could be fun, though. Warm and bright. As long as you didn’t let it get out of control…
“Come.” Gustaldo stood, removing his hand from her waist and taking her hand. Leading her to the table, he was too busy grinning at his confederates to notice when she fell behind him a step and stuck her tongue out at Teague.
***
Teague watched Jodi go, his stomach roiling. What the hell was she doing, going off with the polo player? Courtney had told him about those guys. They were the hired guns of the polo world, expert players who farmed themselves out to the highest bidder. Courtney said they were a pretty wild bunch, raising hell and seducing trophy wives and heiresses everywhere they went. She’d even asked him to protect her from them.
He hadn’t seen that she was in any danger. The guys had glanced at her once or twice, but they hadn’t approached. He’d decided she was exaggerating and written them off as harmless, but now they had Jodi. Watching her go with her small hand in Gustaldo’s muscular paw, he felt a sudden urge to go after her and drag her away.
He watched her sit down in a chair one of the other players drew up to the corner table. Her new friend sat beside her and all four men leaned toward her attentively as she spoke. She said something that made them laugh, and Gustaldo ran his hand up her back and patted her shoulder.
It didn’t seem to bother her. She was laughing too, with her head back. Jodi had always be
en perfectly capable of holding her own with the guys. There was no reason for him to go over there and interrupt. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he moseyed back to Courtney and sat down again, folding his arms over his chest.
“There you are,” she said. She patted his leg. He wished she’d stop touching him almost as much as he wished Gustaldo would stop touching Jodi.
He needed to do something about Courtney. He didn’t even know how it had gotten started, really. One day he’d been nice to her, and the next she was acting like they were joined at the hip. He kept trying to get away, but he just seemed to get mired deeper in her swamp of convenient assumptions.
“Here I am,” he muttered. He fixed his eyes on the band as if watching Todd belt out a Garth Brooks song was the most important thing in the world.
“Was that Jodi?”
He nodded and pulled his hat low over his eyes.
“I thought she wasn’t coming.”
Teague shifted his eyes her way and frowned. “Guess she changed her mind.”
“Maybe she just wanted to go on her own. Looks like she’s caught herself a polo player. She’d better look out. All those guys ever think about is sex.”
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
“Oh, Daddy said so.” She waved a hand toward Jodi and the men. “He says they’re hot-blooded and not to be trusted.”
Damn, Teague thought. He’d felt hot-blooded a few times with Jodi, and look what it had led to.
“And now, with the horses gone…” Courtney gave a small hiccup, but to Teague’s relief there were no tears. “They don’t have anything to do. I don’t know why they’re still here. They’ve got way too much time on their hands.” She thrust out her lower lip. “I don’t know what Jodi thinks is so interesting about them. They’re hot, but they can barely speak English.” She patted his leg. “You and I have such interesting conversations.”
Teague grunted. In his opinion, this was about as interesting as any conversation he’d had with Courtney so far, mostly because they were talking about Jodi.
Although the next conversation would be even better. That would be the one where he told her to get lost.
“Listen, Courtney,” he began. “We need to talk.”
“I have to go to the little girls’ room,” she said—and she was gone.
He glanced back at the corner table. Jodi was telling some story to the polo players, waving her hands in the air to illustrate her point. The men looked enraptured. They were big, all of them, broad-shouldered and tall, with carelessly styled long hair that made them look even bigger. Jodi’s pale, lithe figure looked miniaturized by comparison, like a tiny sparrow surrounded by eagles. Judging from the men’s faces as they watched her, they were birds of prey, all right.
One of the players leaned back in his chair and waved broadly at Bruce, the bartender, who skittered over to the table in his smudged white apron. Moments later, the bartender hustled to the table with a full bottle of tequila, a plate of lemons, a salt shaker, and five shot glasses.
Five.
Teague watched as one of the men filled the glasses and shoved one toward Jodi. She shook her head, smiling.
Good. Smart girl. Teague smiled to himself.
“Teague?” Courtney was back.
He grunted.
“You want to dance?”
“No thanks.”
“Oh. Okay.” She started to sit down on the chair beside him, then slipped off and stumbled slightly before she managed to climb on board. That was weird. How many drinks had she had? She was doing rum and Cokes, and he could swear she’d only had two, but she was staggering like she’d downed a fifth of Captain Morgan.
He glanced over at Jodi again. She could take care of herself, he supposed. She’d made that clear when she stuck out her tongue at him. But she was naïve, and way too trusting—or at least, she had been when she’d left for back East. Maybe she’d hardened up out there, learned to be more careful.
Yeah, right. That was how she ended up naked in Teague’s bed her first day in town.
The polo players had filled their shot glasses and were lifting them high in the air, obviously toasting their guest. They threw their heads back and downed the shots, then slammed their glasses down with a shout.
Courtney slid sideways on her chair and fell against him as Jodi’s laughter rose above the crowd, sounding high and a little wild. One of the men was talking, gesticulating wildly, and Jodi was leaning against Gustaldo and laughing. She looked perfectly comfortable and at ease, and the rowdy polo team seemed delighted to have her with them.
Crap.
Courtney sat upright, then hopped off her chair. He looked down at her, surprised.
“You go on,” she said. “I can tell you want to be with her.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I’ll just go home.” She lurched away from him and tried to grab her purse. She missed it on the first swipe, then finally managed to snag it. She slung it over her shoulder, blinking fast, and walked a crooked line down the aisle, bouncing off various obstacles as she stumbled through the tables and chairs.
Dang. She was wasted. How had that happened? The girl’s tolerance for alcohol must be nonexistent. Teague sighed.
“Courtney,” he said.
She turned sharply to face him and her purse swung in a wide arc, smacking a seated beer drinker in the face.
“Hey,” the guy said.
Courtney staggered backward, looking surprised, and Teague took her arm, leading her back to her chair. She looked blearily at the chair, then up at Teague, obviously needing help to climb aboard.
“I don’t think you should drive,” he said. “Why don’t you wait a while? Come on, I’ll get you a plain Coke.”
“Don’t bother,” Courtney said. Fishing her keys out of her purse, she dropped them on the floor. “Oops.”
Teague bent swiftly and picked them up. “You’re not driving, Courtney.”
“Well, take me home, then.” She struggled to stand. “I want to go.”
He grabbed her around the waist before she could slide to the ground.
“Gotta go,” she slurred.
He looked over at Jodi. She was getting up, leaving the corner table. He started to breathe a sigh of relief, but then her new friend stood too, and took her hand. Leading her to the dance floor, he spun her around like a ballerina and drew her close as the band started a slow song.
I don’t know what I’d do
Baby if I lost you…
Teague felt all the air whoosh out of the room as Gustaldo took Jodi’s hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist. As Teague watched, the polo player slipped his fingers into her the back pocket of her jeans. Teague’s stomach clenched and he swallowed a bitter rush of stomach acid. Jodi had given the guy an inch, and Teague had no doubt Gustaldo would take a mile or more.
And if Teague took Courtney home, she’d be alone with the guy. What if he tried to take advantage of her or something? He parked Courtney in a chair before she could protest.
“Be right back.” He strode over to the bar to grab a napkin. “Got a pen?” he asked the bartender.
Bruce unclipped a ballpoint from his shirt pocket and pivoted from the beer tap to slide it across the bar.
“Thanks.” Teague jotted his cell number on the napkin and set off toward the dance floor. Edging around the perimeter, he waited for Jodi and Gustaldo to pass and shoved the napkin in her back pocket—the one not occupied by Gustaldo’s hand. He felt Jodi stiffen at his touch.
“Cell number,” he muttered. “Just in case you need me.”
She flashed him a grimace and he backed away. Clearly, she didn’t think she’d be needing him. But you never knew. If that guy got her alone…
Maybe she wanted to be alone with him. Probably the last thing she’d want to do was call Teague.
He didn’t want to think about it.
He turned to see Courtney standing in the aisle, watching him with narrowed eyes. Earlier, she’d looked drunk, her mouth slack, her eyes half-closed. Now she looked pissed. But as he watched, her face relaxed into its drunken state.
“Come on,” she said. “Gimme my keys.” She hit a table with her hip, causing a drink to sway and slosh.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing her hip. She turned to the customer whose drink she’d spilled. “Watch it.” She stumbled backward and fell against Teague, and he reflexively put a steadying arm around her shoulders just as Jodi passed, clasped in Gustaldo’s brawny arms. She stared at him and Courtney for a second, then closed her eyes and rested her head against the polo player’s chest as he whirled her away.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Courtney said. “Maybe you’re right. You should take me home.”
Chapter 25
Jodi tried to ignore the heat emanating from her dance partner’s body. She tried to ignore the way his breath was warming her ear too, and the way his hand was massaging the small of her back, drifting lower and lower.
Had he just put his hand in her back pocket?
Yep.
She willed away a spasm of something that felt suspiciously like lust. What was it with these guys? They were pure sex on a stick, every one of them.
She winced. Sex and sticks were the last things she needed to be thinking about.
Gustaldo squeezed her hand and bent his head lower, letting his lips brush her hair. Holy crap. He was going to kiss her. She’d only had one drink—or was it two?—but she felt a sudden reckless urge to let him. In the back of her mind, she knew messing with Gustaldo was a bad idea. She turned her head away and pretended not to notice his obvious intentions.
As they passed the far side of the dance floor, she saw Teague watching her. She closed her eyes, only to feel his hand slip into her other pocket. What the hell? Was she wearing a “touch me” sign on the seat of her pants or what?
“Cell number,” he said. “Just in case you need me.”
Yeah, right. Who needed Teague? She had Gustaldo. He was more than enough.
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