by Joanna Blake
Who was I kidding?
No one looked like Phoenyx.
She looked better than those air brushed swimsuit models in a magazine! I shook my head, resting it in my hands. I gave into temptation, pulling my brim low so she didn't catch my eye.
But I was done trying to fight the urge to look my fill.
If the woman was going to torture me, I was going to memorize every damn curve. I had a feeling it would come in handy on a cold night…
They started the shoot and I could not look away. Not even to blink. She was wearing a tiny bikini, a straw cowboy hat and fancy boots. She started washing the horse and I nearly spit out my iced tea as the soapy water started sliding over her body.
I could imagine myself over there, my hands holding the sponge. Except instead of washing the horse, I'd be washing her.
Just when I thought I was going to bust a nut right there, it got worse.
Much, much worse.
They turned her and the horse so that she was looking over her shoulder. Her perfect ass was on full display from this angle, as she bent forward and playfully washed the horse. I swallowed hard as suds slid down over the gorgeous round globes and dripped down her thighs.
She smiled at the camera. Then she looked at me, a teasing smile on her face. She knew what she was doing to me, I realized. And she was loving it.
But she wasn’t just doing it to torture me. Or just to do her job as a spokeswoman. No, she had a darker purpose.
A shock ran through me as our eyes locked.
Sweet lord in heaven, Phoenyx Delancey wanted me too.
I was caught. Trapped. She'd seen the lust in my eyes, I knew it. But I was shocked as hell when I saw it directed right back at me.
Oh no.
Oh hell no.
That feeling in my gut. It was reflected right back at me in her beautiful eyes. It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
That was it. I knew I was done for.
It was bad enough with me lusting over her every minute of the day. The season was just getting started. I knew I'd be taking cold showers until the competition in December.
Oh yeah, I wanted her. Bad. Worse than I'd ever wanted a damn thing in my life. By far.
I would resist her as long as I could. Eventually, I expected I'd make an ass of myself. I'd already accepted that was going to happen. She'd reject me for being too old and cranky. I would go away and lick my wounds and try to forget her.
That was how it was supposed to happen.
But if Phoenyx Delancey wanted me back, I didn't stand a chance in hell.
Chapter Eight
Phoenyx
Sometimes, a plan can work a little bit too well.
I shivered in the hot sun, realizing I had overshot my mark. I was playing with fire and right now, I was pretty sure I was going to get burned. Heck, I knew I was.
Hot blue eyes stared at me. Into me. I felt branded. Seared by all that fire. I never knew blue could hold so much heat.
I couldn't move. Couldn’t look away. I felt like a rabbit in a snare, locking eyes with a wolf. The man was a bonafide sex tornado. I blinked and it was over, leaving me feeling weak and limp, like overcooked pasta.
Actually, my pasta was always overcooked. Or under. I was a terrible cook. Another thing Clint probably wouldn’t like about me. I knew he wanted me. But what the hell would happen after that?
I was trying to calm myself down when Clint jumped up from his lawn chair like a Jack-in-the-box. I half expected to see a rattlesnake under his chair.
Instead, he ran off with his cowboy hat held over his lap.
That was… interesting.
My mood lifted suddenly. Clint might be intimidatingly manly but he was definitely effected by me. Maybe even more affected that I was, if that was possible.
I shook my head and smiled at the camera. I had a job to do. And I had a sudden inclination that I'd just witnessed Clint McRae losing his cool.
All because of little ole me.
Hmmm… seems this was a two way street after all. He wanted me. Bad.
More than I'd thought. My impression was that he saw me as a silly little girl. Sure, he'd given me a few lingering looks, but all men did that. It didn’t mean anything.
Everyone I wasn't related too, anyway.
It had been like that since I sprouted tits. Nothing a man did to get my attention surprised me anymore. I'd done such a good job of ignoring them all, I'd forgotten to educate myself about them.
I chewed my lip while they fluffed my hair. I had an idea.
A very good idea. Or a very bad one, depending on who you asked.
Clint was older. Experienced. He might be a good teacher…
I nodded to myself. Yes, that was a brilliant idea. Clint could teach me about more than riding. He could be my first. I'd get the practice I wanted and he'd ease up on me in the ring.
It was perfect.
"Oh that's great! Give me those bedroom eyes."
I smiled like a cat with a bowl of sweet cream. I had made up my mind and now all I had to do was set my plan in motion. I giggled with excitement.
After all this time, I'd finally found the man I was going to let into my bed. And I hadn't had to go looking. He'd practically fallen into my lap.
Clint McRae was going to make me a woman.
Chapter Nine
Clint
Dear lord in heaven, help me not make a damned ass out of myself.
I splashed water on my face, then looked up at myself, leaning against the sink. I had to get out of here. I was way too riled up. I was no good around horses right now. It was dangerous.
Never mind it being dangerous around Phoenyx.
I didn't trust myself not to toss her over my shoulder and carry her off with me. I wanted to do things to her. Not gentle, sweet things like a beautiful, young girl deserved.
Rough and filthy things.
Unspeakable things.
Things that could get a man thrown in the clink.
I splashed more water on my face. Then I tugged my jeans out and splashed icy water on my stomach and cock. I flinched at the cold but it didn't do a damn thing to make it lie down.
"Bad dog." I muttered, shaking my head. There was no use for it. I had a twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week kind of boner. I had to git, while the gittin' was good.
I left the bathroom, sneaking around the back way towards my car. I left my favorite lawn chair where it was. I figured it would still be here tomorrow. I couldn't take one more second of almost-naked Phoenyx, covered in slippery soapy suds.
I cursed as my hard on got even harder, just at the thought of her in that get up, doing those things.
I cursed again as a Phoenyx caught up to me, still wearing next to nothing. I didn't slow my pace. I kept right on walking. That didn't stop her. Those impossibly long legs of hers kept up with me just fine.
I tried not to notice that her barely covered chest was bouncing with each step. I wanted to grab her, kiss her hard and bury my face in between those luscious tits of hers. I would wrap her long, silky legs around me and–
"Where are you going?"
"PJ's. I need a drink."
I'd spoken without thinking. PJ's was in town and not more than a couple miles from my house. I could leave my car there and stumble home after a few drinks.
More than a few drinks.
I knew I was gonna have to tie one on to clear my head. A big, Phoenyx Delancey sized bottle for starters. It was a time honored way to avoid thinking about a woman.
"Great, I need one too. I'll follow you."
I stopped in my tracks.
"Do. Not. Follow. Me."
She smiled at me.
"Are you okay?"
I grunted and practically ran for my car. She was still standing there when I peeled off. Her pretty head was tilted to one side, as if she was hatching something.
I shuddered to think what that might be.
I was still hot and bothered, sitting
at the bar an hour later when Phoenyx walked in. She'd put on some clothes thank the good lord. Too bad those clothes were a skin-tight pair of jeans and a hot pink camisole that didn't cover much more than the bikini.
She'd done something to her face too. I exhaled sharply when I realized she was wearing makeup. Just a little around the eyes and something pink and shiny on her lips. She'd curled her hair too.
I knew it was for me. She was sending me a signal. One that would be impossible to resist.
God help me, but I lit up at the sight of her. I'd thought she was off the charts pretty before. But right now, she shined.
The air in the room changed as she strode across the bar. Every man in the place sat up straight. I stared straight ahead, refusing to pant after her like the rest of the pack.
Goddammit.
Things were about to get real.
Chapter Ten
Phoenyx
“So,” I said, popping a hip and leaning against the bar. “What are you drinking?"
Clint gave me a sideways glance as I shrugged and slid onto the bar stool beside him. I could instantly tell a couple of girls were real peeved to see me with him. I just tossed my hair and smiled warmly at him, laying my hand on his arm.
He looked at my hand, then back at my face before turning back to his drink. He took a long sip and put his glass down again before answering.
"Whiskey."
I wrinkled my nose at that. The bartender came over. He was in his early thirties, like Clint. No wedding ring. Not that I cared, I just wanted to know before I used him as leverage.
"I'm Dave. What can I get you?"
Dave gave me a megawatt smile. I batted my eyelashes at him, casting my eyes sideways to see if it was working. My whole purpose was to annoy Clint.
"I'll have a tequila. Blanco. No ice."
"You want lime with that?"
"Lemon please. And a water on the side."
He nodded and poured me a drink. I reached for my wallet but Dave held up his hands.
"No way, Ms. Delancey. This is on the house."
"Thank you, Dave."
I was always gratified when people knew who I was. Especially this far from the Delancey Estate. I wasn't world famous or anything, but I was well known in Texas.
And Nashville of course.
Clint said nothing as I reached for the lemon and squeezed it into my drink. I licked my fingers clean before lifting my drink towards my lips. He turned to me, his hand gently catching my wrist.
We were so close, we were almost embracing. I stared into his eyes, daring him to take what I was offering. He wanted to, that much was plain.
We stayed like that for a moment and then he let go.
"You should not be drinking."
I raised my glass to him.
"But I'm off duty."
I winked, poking his chest.
"And so are you."
He sighed heavily.
"How old are you anyway, Phoenyx?"
I coughed, almost choking on my drink. Did he think I was underage? No wonder the man ran away from me!
I fluttered my eyes at him playfully.
"Don't worry Clint. I'm legal."
He narrowed his eyes at me but I could tell he was intrigued.
"Legal for what?"
I shrugged, sipping my tequila. A lady did not shoot her tequila. She sipped it.
I downed the rest anyway and slammed the glass down. The bartender was back in two shakes as Clint looked at me with a worried look on his face.
"Another?"
"Yes, please."
Clint's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Phoenyx, what are you doing?"
I smiled at him.
"I'm bored. All I do is work, work, work,” I singsonged with a mischievous smile. “I want to have a little fun."
I tilted my head and stared at him.
"Don't you?"
"No. I do not want to have fun. I hate fun. Now you should get on home like a good little girl and–"
"I am not a little girl,” I snapped.
We were staring at each other, both of us breathing hard. It was like we were in an Old West gunfight, waiting for the other one to draw. I wondered for a moment if I was the bad guy or the Sheriff in this scenario.
"Phoenyx–"
He sighed heavily, clearly giving up. I sipped my drink and looked around the bar. I had won. But if he was going to ignore me, I was going to have to talk to someone.
"What do you guys do for fun around here anyway, Dave?"
"Talkin' to a pretty lady is at the top of my list."
He grinned at me, wiping a glass with a dishtowel. I felt Clint tense up beside me.
"You don't say?"
I finished my drink and Dave started to pour me another.
"That won't be necessary, Dave."
Clint stood up and gripped my arm.
"Come on, I need to get home."
I shook him off.
"Well, I don't."
"Listen Phoenyx– I'm too old for you."
"Whatever are you talking about, Clint?"
I grinned at him, making it clear I knew exactly what he was talking about. He ran his hand through his hair, making him look adorably boyish.
I batted my eyelashes at him.
"Who cares about age? Besides, I'm just having a drink and enjoying myself."
He grit his teeth, looking at me like I was driving him crazy. Good. If he was crazy, maybe he'd give in to this fire raging between the two of us.
"I am not leaving you here with all these men."
"What men?"
I looked around innocently. Hmmm… there were quite a few fellas giving me the eye. I might have been nervous if Clint wasn't with me. But he was. So I played dumb, wondering how far he was going to take this.
I gestured to the room at large.
“It’s perfectly safe. There are plenty of women here."
He leaned down, bracing his arm on the back of my chair. He was inches away from me. I couldn't help but stare at his lips. They looked… surprisingly soft.
"They don't look like you."
I was breathless, thinking he was about to kiss me.
"What's wrong with the way I look, Clint?"
His eyes searched my face, dropping to my lips. This was happening. This was really, truly about to happen. My curiosity would finally be assuaged– I would find out what Clint felt like– how he tasted– how–
"Everything is wrong with the way you look."
Oh. My. God.
My stomach lurched in pained embarrassment.
I looked away from him, my mood instantly deflated. I felt like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. He didn't like the way I looked? Had he been looking at me with disgust all along? I felt like a fool.
Way to misread the situation, Phee.
I blinked back tears, standing up and slapping twenty dollars on the bar.
Then I ran out of there like a bat out of hell.
"Phoenyx!"
I could hear him behind me, stomping in those big boots of his, but I didn't stop. I ran down main street, cursing him with every step.
He called my name several times but I didn't look back. Eventually the footsteps fell away. I stomped home, wishing I hadn't drank or tried to flirt with him. Wishing I'd never laid eyes on Clint McRae.
So what if my riding was better than ever? I didn’t care. I’d fallen for the bastard and made a damned fool of myself in the process.
It was only my second year in real competition. I'd already been booked for horse shows all over the country. I was already good. Clint had made me even better.
I was going to win a lot of competitions this year. Maybe even the National Championship.
What the hell did I need him for?
JJ had hired him, that's why. He was my mentor and had been guiding my career since the beginning. He was the reason I had more sponsorships than any other trick rider in the world.
He was more than
my attorney. He was kind of like a father to me growing up. He never missed a birthday or Christmas. He had always been so good to me.
I couldn't let him down.
Maybe if I just ignored Clint… took his advice and that was it. Maybe if I actually won the Championship I could live down the humiliation of this night.
But that was months away.
And it sure as shit didn't solve my current dilemna. I couldn’t imagine having to face him the next day. I couldn’t imagine having to face that smug face, knowing that he knew I liked him. More than liked. I wanted to curl into a ball and hide.
I kicked off my boots and stomped into my bathroom, turning on the shiny faucet over the soaking tub. I scowled, sniffing my favorite bath soak without enjoyment. Even that was ruined for me.
I sat on the edge of the tub, utterly dejected.
He didn't like the way I looked.
I hadn't dated much. Or at all really. But I knew that I was cute enough. Wasn't I?
Back in high school the boys had been too afraid of my cousins to mess with me. The Delancey brothers were protective of me since the day I was born. Never mind their tendency to hit first and ask questions later.
Yep, they were brawlers and had warned off all the boys in a fifty-mile radius back home. Same in the equestrian world, which were the only other men I knew. But I still got male attention.
Just… from a distance.
I sighed, peeling off my clothes. Maybe I didn't dress fancy enough. Or show enough skin. Maybe my inexperience was the issue.
Or maybe he really just didn't like the way I looked.
I peeled off my clothes, sneaking a look at myself in the mirror. I might be a little curvy, but men liked that, right? Or was he the sort who liked his ladies stick thin?
I shook my head. It didn't matter what he liked. I wasn't it for him. I'd just have to accept that and move on.
I sank into the bubbles, feeling the tension finally slide off my shoulders.
Then I sat up. What if Clint quit? As humiliating as it was, I definitely wanted to see him again. I would be heartbroken if he disappeared on me. Walked out of my life…
