by Leah Braemel
With a sultry expression, he smiled down at her, sliding his palms up her bare arms. “How about another dance?”
“Dance?” She glanced at him not really seeing him. Shamefully, her mind wandered to another—one who’d left her wanting with a single look. The flame had sparked again when their eyes had met once more.
The whole time they’d sashayed across the floor all she could think of was the dark-haired cowboy who appeared out of nowhere. Even when Tom—yes, Tom was his name—had suggested they find a quieter place to talk all she could think of was blue-black hair and eyes dark as the night.
She scanned the room in search of her mystery man. Disappointment hit her hard when the spot where he had last stood was vacant. Reluctantly, she drew her attention back to Tom and his question. “Can’t. Promised the next dance to—”
Crap. Forgot that guy’s name too. She never had problems with her memory. Guess she had too much on her mind tonight.
The stout cowboy she had met earlier sidled up to her. “Charles,” he said slipping an arm around her waist to pull her back firmly against his body. “My turn.”
Tom stiffened. His brows tugged down into a scowl. For a moment, she thought he might raise a ruckus.
Men were gutsier then she remembered. They could be so primitive. Give them a drink or two and they became throwbacks from the Stone Age, fighting to resolve all their disagreements.
Tracy released a pent-up breath when Tom finally tipped his hat. “Later, sweetheart.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Charles whispered in her ear.
Her equilibrium was shot to hell when he twirled her around and into his embrace. His feet immediately started to move to the quick beat of the music. Lightheaded, she missed the first step, but caught the next one to glide across the floor. He held her confidently, guiding her into each move easily.
“So, little lady, where you from?”
Little? She was five-eight, one or two inches shorter than him. Judging by his solid build the man was a bull-rider. Of course, she’d been wrong before. “Nebraska,” she answered.
Tracy wasn’t prepared when Charles abruptly spun her twice, drawing her firmly against him on the final spin. But it was the knee wedged between her legs that made her attention perk up. He rubbed his thigh up hers. The large bulge in his jeans pressed against her abdomen was difficult to miss. The man was aroused. He ground his hips to hers emphasizing the point before giving her a devilish grin.
Good ol’ Charlie expected a reaction, but she wasn’t biting. Not my type. Besides she was just here to burn off some energy. Tomorrow was a big day for her.
Yeah. He might give her a good ride, but she was looking for something more, someone who could ignite a fire inside her with just a look. Someone like the cowboy she’d exchanged glances with before hitting the dance floor. Her thoughts wandered back to a pair of dark eyes. The bad boy persona the dark-haired cowboy wore screamed excitement and adventure. That’s what she wanted—hungered for.
A light kiss pressed to her neck brought her back to the man that held her. “I’ve never seen you here before. Visiting?” His voice deepened as he rubbed his cheek against hers. The scent of sandalwood was strong. She preferred the light spicy scent of the dark-haired cowboy. It left her speechless and horny.
What was she saying? She didn’t even know the guy.
“Yes. No.” Truthfully, she wasn’t sure. Her uncle had promised to help her establish a business in Santa Ysabel. Back in Omaha her mother had agreed to watch Sheldon until she found a home and babysitter. Again her chest squeezed.
It had been nine months since her sister’s unexpected death. Shelly had been thrown from a horse. Her head had struck the only rock in the field. Tracy’s ex hadn’t appreciated becoming a parent so soon, but she had no alternative. Her mother had enough health problems of her own. Lois Marx had a bad heart. Besides Tracy was Sheldon’s godmother and she loved the three-year-old as if he were her own. Leaving Nebraska was a new start for both of them.
Charles chuckled. “Which is it?”
“What?” Blinking hard, she tried to recall what he asked. She had shit for a memory tonight. What she needed to do was pull herself together, but it was difficult when she had so much on her mind. Other than college, she’d never been this far away from home, never been alone. Even married she had lived only a mile away from home.
He eased his hold putting enough distance between them so he stared into her eyes. “Are you visiting or staying?”
Multiple choices—this should be easy. Yet she remained silent pondering his question.
Just pick one, a voice in her head chastised.
“Staying,” she heard herself say.
There, that wasn’t so hard.
Yet saying it aloud authenticated her decision and she wasn’t sure it was the right one. What if she couldn’t find enough work? What if the people in California didn’t like her? She was a country-girl born and raised. What did she know about dealing with people of influence? What she did know were animals, especially horses.
An ear-to-ear grin tugged at Charles’s mouth. His hand fell to rest on her ass. “Need a place to stay?”
His innuendo didn’t escape her. She cocked a brow, grasping his hand to guide it back to her waist. “Got it covered, but thanks for the invitation.”
His palm worked its way back down to ride the top of her ass. “Does that mean tonight is out?”
Men! She shook her head in disbelief.
Relief surfaced when the song came to an end. Hastily, she stepped out of his embrace. “Thanks, but I have plans tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Cutting through the crowd, she avoided Tom when he nodded at her, choosing instead to head for the line growing outside the bathroom door. It was as good as any place for her to catch her bearings.
Tracy probably shouldn’t have ventured outside her uncle’s estate tonight. But her fifteen-year-old cousin had recommended she check out Jester’s party. She didn’t want to speculate how Laurie knew about this place. From everything Tracy’d seen so far it was a meat market and the perfect place to pick up a one-night stand, which was exactly what she was in the mood for, but it would have to wait.
There would be questions if she didn’t come home tonight. An inquisition was something she didn’t need to deal with. But she might have stood a cross-examination for the tall, dark cowboy. She took one more look around the room and wondered if her mystery man had gone down the flight of stairs to the basement.
“Looking for someone, sugar?” The whiskey-smooth male’s voice sounded familiar.
She turned and a smile fell across her face. “Rowdy.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and raised her off her feet to twirl her around, nearly knocking over two other women in line. They cast a disgruntled look, but remained quiet as she slithered down his firm body, raising her skirt to where it barely covered her butt. She gave the hem a tug as he settled her on her feet.
He held her at arm’s length. “I couldn’t believe it was you waltzing around the dance floor. What the hell brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“I could say the same to you.” She took in his athletic build, knowing exactly what hid beneath his cotton shirt; lean strong muscles. Long powerful legs were encased in snug denim that rode low on his lean hips. Yep. She remembered the bulge between his thighs too. Hastily she jerked her gaze back to his face.
A wicked grin fell across his face. He pulled her back into his arms, giving her a squeeze. “Here with someone?” he murmured against her ear.
“No.”
“That makes two of us.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “How about I take you home, tie you up and have my way with you?”
Chills raced across her skin as his hair tickled her neck. The man was gorgeous. Peeking from beneath his Stetson, sandy blond hair framed his tanned face.
“Yes” was on the tip of her tongue. His sexy invitation almost made her forget she needed to call it a
night soon. “Sounds delicious, but I’ll have to pass. I work tomorrow.”
His lips were soft trailing along her jaw line and cheeks, until his mouth whispered across hers. “Are you sure?” He caressed his tongue along the crease of her lips. “If I recall, we made some sweet music together.”
Sweet music? That was an understatement.
Rowdy had been her first lover after the divorce. She had been scared and uncertain. He had been patient and understanding and joked around to make her feel comfortable. They had talked, but more importantly he had listened, asking questions and appearing genuinely interested in her plans for the future.
Little touches here—kisses there—and before the night ended she found herself locked in his arms, revealing some of her deepest desires. At the moment there hadn’t seemed to be any danger in her frankness about her sexual desires. He was a stranger passing through town. Hell. After a couple of drinks and another tumble between the sheets, she had even told him about her darkest fantasy—a ménage a trois.
To her surprise he hadn’t been judgmental. He didn’t make her feel as if her wayward thoughts were disturbing or wrong. In fact, he appeared to be aroused by her confession, taking her in his arms and making passionate love to her once more.
Embarrassment heated her face. I can’t believe I revealed that fantasy.
He smoothed a hand gently over her cheek as if he could sense her sudden discomfort. “It’s me, baby.” He looked at her with warm brown eyes. “I can make your fantasies come true.” He pressed his mouth to her ear. “All of them,” he whispered.
Oh God. He remembered.
A spark sputtered low in her belly. The burn matched the heat flaring across her cheeks. Surely he was just teasing her. Even still, the thought of two men worshipping her body all night long was beyond exciting. It was downright sinful.
“Can’t.” She swallowed hard. “Not tonight.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. It was already getting late and she didn’t want to disturb her uncle’s household. She didn’t miss the disappointment on his face as he released her.
“When?”
“Maybe Monday. My weekend is booked solid.”
“Monday it is. Give me your number.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in her number as she rattled it off. “I’ll call you with the directions to my house.” He caressed her cheek. “Are you up for anything?” There was a spark of devilment in his eyes.
Anything?
“Yes,” slipped from her mouth before she could think twice.
“I promise it will be a night dedicated solely to your pleasure.” He kissed her softly. “Until Monday.”
Eyes closed, lips still puckered, she murmured, “Uh-huh.” He tapped her on the nose. Her eyelids rose.
He winked. “Later, baby.”
She sighed low and long as she watched him walk away. Later couldn’t come anytime too soon.
Torn between the love he has…and the love he’s always wanted.
Rough, Raw and Ready
© 2008 Lorelei James
Rough Riders Series, Book 5
Chassie West Glanzer hasn’t been a stranger to drama and tragedy. A year of wedded bliss to sexy-as-sin cowboy Trevor Glanzer has brought her the happiness and contentment she never thought she’d find, and mellowed Trevor’s rodeo wanderlust. Then Trevor’s old roping partner ambles up the driveway—and Chassie’s life changes drastically.
Trevor never expected to see Edgard Mancuso again, after it became clear he couldn’t be the man Edgard needed. Now Edgard is back from Brazil to sort out their tangled past, and Trevor is plagued with feelings he thought he’d buried over three years ago. Although Trevor is hat-over-bootheels in love with his sweet, feisty wife, the sense his life is missing a piece has always gnawed at him.
Chassie’s shock that Edgard and Trevor were once lovers turns to fear of losing her husband. Or worse, fear that Trevor will stay with her only out of a sense of duty. Yet as the three of them spend time together, the sins of the past blur and fade, leaving raw emotion—and unbridled passion.
Passion that could heal…or cause irreparable damage to their future.
Warning: this book contains unbelievably explicit sex, including multiple cowboy/cowgirl/cowboy ménage scenes, juicy, hot, male on male action, a bucketful of politically incorrect situations and true Western ideology
Enjoy the following excerpt for Rough, Raw and Ready:
By the time Trevor finished scrubbing the machine oil from his hands, Chassie and Edgard had returned to the kitchen.
Chassie said, “Who wants coffee?”
“Sounds great, Chass.”
“There’s cookies, unless Trev ate them all. The man has a serious sweet tooth.”
“Then I oughta munch on you, darlin’, since you’re so durn sweet.” Trevor nibbled the side of her jaw and Chassie squealed. He reached above her head for the coffee cups on the pegs.
Trevor turned and saw Edgard staring at them. Not with jealousy, but with longing. Simple affectionate moments had been rare between them and Trevor remembered it was one of the things Edgard had needed that Trevor hadn’t been able to offer him. Why did he feel just as guilty about that shortcoming now as he had back then?
Chassie poured the coffee. Trevor automatically grabbed the milk jug from the fridge and set it next to Edgard. He snagged a spoon from the dish rack, passing it and the sugar canister to Edgard, ignoring Chassie’s questioning stare.
Didn’t mean a damn thing he remembered exactly how Edgard liked his coffee. Not a damn thing.
“So, Edgard, what are you doin’ in our neck of the woods?”
“Reliving some old memories. I drove past my grandparents’ place yesterday. With the shabby way it’s looking I’m wishing I would’ve bought it when I had the chance.” He smiled wryly. “I’m kicking myself for letting another thing slip through my fingers.”
“Grandparents?” Chassie repeated, not noticing Trevor’s rigid posture after Edgard’s comment. “You from around here?”
“Yes. And no.” Edgard relayed the story about his mother. Getting pregnant as a foreign exchange student, giving birth to Edgard before his biological father, a young cowboy, died in an accident. She’d returned home to Brazil and married Edgard’s stepfather.
“Whoa. That’s kind of soap-operaish, isn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Edgard blew across his coffee. “But it does make me an American citizen so I can come and go as I please in the good ol’ U.S. of A.”
Trevor listened as Chassie asked a million questions about Edgard’s life and Brazil. They finished off the pot of coffee and the time passed pleasantly. He even managed to meet Edgard’s gaze a couple of times.
The phone rang and Chassie excused herself to answer it.
Silence hung between them as heavy as snow clouds in a winter sky.
Eventually, Edgard said, “She doesn’t know anything about me. Not even that we were roping partners. Not that we were…” He looked at Trevor expectantly.
“No.” Trevor quickly glanced at the living room where Chassie was chattering away. “You surprised?”
“Maybe that she isn’t aware of our official association as roping partners. There was no shame in that. We were damn good together, Trev.”
The word shame echoed like a slap. As good as they were together, it’d never been enough, in an official capacity or behind closed doors. “What are you really doin’ here?”
Edgard didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Feeling restless. Had the urge to travel.”
“Wyoming ain’t exactly an exotic port of call.”
“You think I don’t realize that? You think I wouldn’t rather be someplace else? But something…” Edgard lowered his voice. “Ah, fuck it.”
“What?”
“Want the truth? Or would you rather I lie?”
“The truth.”
“Truth between us? That’s refreshing.” Edgard’s gaze trapped his. “I’m here because of yo
u.”
Trevor’s heart alternately stopped and soared, even when his answer was an indiscernible growl. “For Christsake, Ed. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? With my wife in the next room?”
“You’re making a big deal out of this. She thinks we’re friends, which ain’t a lie. We were partners before we were…” Edgard gestured distractedly. “If she gets the wrong idea, it won’t be from me.”
“Maybe I’m gettin’ the wrong idea. The last thing you said to me when you fuckin’ left me was that you weren’t ever comin’ back. And you made it goddamn clear you didn’t want to be my friend. So why are you here?”
Pause. He traced the rim of his coffee cup with a shaking fingertip. “I heard about you gettin’ married.”
“That happened over a year ago and you came all the way from Brazil to congratulate me in person? Now?”
“No.” Edgard didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He raked his fingers through his hair. His voice was barely audible. “Will it piss you off if I admit I was curious about whether you’re really happy, meu amore?”
My love. My ass. Trevor snapped, “Yes.”
“Yes, you’re pissed off? Or yes, you’re happy?”
“Both.”
“Then this is gonna piss you off even more.”
“What?”
“Years and miles haven’t changed anything between us and you goddamn well know it.”
Trevor looked up; Edgard’s golden eyes were laser beams slicing him open. “It don’t matter. If you can’t be my friend while you’re in my house, walk out the fuckin’ door. I will not allow either one of us to hurt my wife. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. And I’m done talkin’ about this shit so don’t bring it up again. Ever.”
Chassie bounded back into the kitchen. If she sensed the tension she didn’t remark on it. “My coffee break is over. Gotta get back to the grind. What’re you guys gonna do?”
Trevor gathered the cups and dumped them in the sink. “I’ll help you finish up outside.”
