by Cindi Myers
IT WAS ALMOST LUNCHTIME before Kyle and Theresa finally made it out of bed. His idea of a morning well spent, he thought as he drove across town toward his orthopedic surgeon's office. He hadn't had much trouble talking Theresa into seeing him tonight, either. If he worked it right, he could probably convince her to let him stay with her once his friend A.J. returned from his hitch on the rigs. With any luck, he'd avoid returning to the ranch until it was time to hit the circuit again.
There was no lineup of patients at the surgeon's office, so Kyle was shown right in.Dr. Hank Gunderson examined the injured wrist. "Is it giving you any pain?" he asked.
"Nah." Kyle shifted on the table. "Itches like hell sometimes, though."
Dr. Gunderson clipped the gauze into place. "X-rays show it's healing fine. Of course, you can't expect to mend quite as quickly as you did a few years ago, when you broke your collarbone-- Wasn't that it?"
He groaned, remembering. "That calf kicked me into next month." He frowned at his unwrapped arm. After only a little over a week in the cast, it seemed smaller and weaker. "How soon can I lose the cast? It's getting to be a pain." Not to mention it was seriously cramping his style with a certain gorgeous brunette. He couldn't wait to put both arms all the way around her without that chunk of fiberglass in the way.
"If you promise to be careful, you can probably get by with taping it and wearing an air cast. You can take that off when you shower, but you'll want to leave it on most of the time."
"Great."
Dr. Gunderson turned to a supply cabinet and took out a package of elastic gauze and a white cardboard box. "So what have you been doing with yourself now that you're off the circuit for a while?"
"Not much." He held out his arm and Dr. Gunderson wrapped it with tape. "Kicking around, trying to stay out of trouble."
Dr. Gunderson slipped on the air cast and showed him how to adjust the Velcro straps. "Unless you have problems, I don't need to see you again for another five weeks. You should be fully healed by then. But I'll want you to keep the wrist taped when you compete and work with the Justin Healers on some therapy."
He nodded. The Justin Healers were the medics of the rodeo, many of them former rodeo riders themselves. "Thanks, Doc."
He was settling his bill when someone behind him said, "Kyle Cameron, is that you?"
He turned and saw a lanky man in jeans and a T-shirt standing next to a small boy whose arm was in a sling. Recognition clicked in his brain. "Brady Robbins, you old son of a gun!"
He hugged his friend. Back in his late teens and early twenties, he and Brady had been running buddies, traveling the rodeo circuit together, splitting expenses and competing against each other in calf roping. But Brady had left the circuit years ago to take a job at the family hardware store.
"Who is this?" Kyle stepped back and grinned at the kid. As if he didn't recognize the spitting image of Brady, right down to the cowlick sticking up at the back of his head.
"This is my boy, Derrick." Brady put his arm around the kid, who stood up a little straighter and grinned, showing one tooth missing. "He had a little mishap at a mutton bustin'."
Mutton bustin' was a popular event at rodeos. Any child could enter and attempt to catch and ride one of the sheep turned loose in the arena. "You going to be a rodeo cowboy like your dad?" Kyle asked.
The boy hooked the thumb of his good hand into his belt loop and puffed out his chest. "I'm gonna be even better'n my dad."
They laughed. Brady nodded at the cast on Kyle's arm. "What happened to you?"
"I was in a rodeo over in Stephenville and an ornery calf got the better of me."
Brady shook his head. "So you're still ridin' the circuit?"
"Yeah. Guess I'm not smart enough to quit. What about you? You still in the hardware business?"
He shook his head. "They built a big new Wal-Mart down the road, put us out of business. Now I'm working construction, building homes in one of those new subdivisions west of here."
"It must suit you. You look good." He'd put on a little weight, but just enough to make him look more solid. Settled.
Brady grinned. "I can't believe you're still rodeoin'. So I guess this means you aren't married."
He shook his head. "I haven't let a woman lasso me yet."
A nurse appeared in the waiting-room doorway. "Derrick Robbins?"
"Looks like we got to go." Brady stuck out his hand. "Good to see you, man. Good luck with the wrist."
"Good to see you, too."
Kyle rode an otherwise empty elevator down to street level, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of his old buddy Brady as a dad with a kid old enough to be in school. Not that he didn't know a lot of men his age with families, but none of those men had ever been like him, living the free and easy life, competing for big money, their days and nights revolving around those few minutes in the arena and celebrating or commiserating at the beer halls afterward. That kind of life seemed a long way from where Brady was now.
If he'd thought Brady would envy his freedom, he hadn't seen any sign of it. If anything, his old pard had looked a little sorry for Kyle. Almost thirty and still playing a kid's game, he imagined Brady saying to his wife. Who does he think he's fooling?
He studied his reflection in the polished metal doors of the elevator. Except for the cast, he looked the same as he always had. A few more lines around his eyes maybe, but he was as lean and muscular as ever, his hair just as thick. He hadn't really changed on the outside.
He exited the elevator and headed for his truck. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't grown up and changed on the inside. He was getting tired of his life--of the travel, of trying to keep up with young hotshots barely out of their teens, of not knowing where he'd be or what he'd be doing next year or even next month.
He didn't want to settle down on the ranch and take up the kind of life Kristen wanted for him, but he couldn't see keeping on the way he had been, either. There had to be a compromise somewhere, something he could do that would be satisfying and productive without being boring.
He started up the truck and waited for traffic to clear before he turned out into the street. At least he had tonight to look forward to. Theresa was anything but boring, and she didn't badger a man with questions. Maybe because she didn't want him poking too deep into her own affairs.
He remembered her remark about attending the rodeo as part of some charity group of underprivileged kids. He'd about bit his tongue off to keep from asking about that. After all, they'd made a bargain. They weren't going to concern themselves with the past or future. All they would focus on was right now and enjoying themselves with each other. Things didn't get complicated that way. Heaven knows, he wasn't a man who liked complications.
THERESA HAD SPENT SO MUCH time saying goodbye to Kyle, she was late to work. Not that it really mattered, since Scott had a key, but she hated having to rush. So she wasn't in the best of moods when she was confronted with yet another group of protesters. Today the crowd was all women, some with little kids in tow. Great, she thought. Teach your babies to be intolerant from the start.
She started to say as much when one of the women reached down to jerk her kid out of Theresa's path, as if she were afraid the slightest contact with the owner of a den of iniquity might prove fatal. Theresa managed a smarmy smile. "Don't worry, hon," she said in a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth drawl. "I don't have cooties or anything."The horrified expression on the woman's face should have made her laugh, but she couldn't muster anything stronger than disgust. She shoved open the door to the shop and slammed it behind her.
"I ought to be able to swear out a warrant against those people for something," she grumbled as she stashed her purse behind the counter. "Harassment or stupidity or something."
Scott and Cherry scarcely noticed her. They were standing in the middle of the shop, a large music case between them. "It's about time you got here," Scott said. "I've been trying to tell Cherry she can't bring this thing in here."
Scott's look was scornful. "This is a tattoo shop. Our customers like rock and roll. Not cello music."
"How do you know? Have you asked them?"
"Both of you, quiet!" Theresa squeezed her head between her hands, trying to drive out the headache already throbbing there. "Cherry, put the cello in the back. We'll decide later if you can play it or not."
Cherry stuck her tongue out at Scott, then lugged the case toward the back. Theresa turned to him. "I need you to close tonight," she said.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. "I was sort of planning on going out."
"You can go out after you close up here. There'll still be plenty of women in the bars."
"C'mon! You make it sound like I go around picking up anything in a skirt."
She arched one eyebrow. "You're the one who's always bragging about your conquests."
He glanced toward the back room. "Not so loud, okay?"
"You worried she'll think you're a tomcat?" Stud Boy's discomfort was too delicious not to savor, but she did lower her voice. "I thought you enjoyed that reputation." Especially since she suspected he exaggerated his conquests.
"You kidding?" He made a show of polishing his nails on his shirt front. "I know dudes who would kill for a rep like mine. But I don't want to scare her off by revealing too much too soon, you know?"
"So see, it will be good for you to stay in and work one night."
"Why can't you close tonight?" He followed her to the front counter and watched her log on to the computer.
"I'm going out." Actually her plans called for staying in with a certain cowboy, but Scott didn't need to know that.
"You mean you have a date?" He shook his head. "You never date."
She glared at him. "Just because I don't feel the need to announce the details of my social life to everyone who walks through the door doesn't mean I don't have one."
"You can't keep a secret like that. Not in a place like this." He shrugged. "Besides, everybody knows you don't date."
She gave him her best go-to-hell glare, a look that had reduced lesser men to stammering idiots. "Do I look like a nun to you?"
He held up both hands and took a step back. "I'm just saying..."
Cherry emerged from the back room and joined them. Today she was wearing ripped jeans and a tie-dyed tank top that showed off her tattoos and her not inconsiderable cleavage. Theresa almost felt sorry for Scott, who had trouble keeping his eyes off his new co-worker. "I got an appointment coming in at two and a class at four-thirty," she said.
Theresa nodded. "That should be okay. I'll be here until six or so. Scott's going to close."
"I can come back at seven and work till close." Cherry turned to Scott. "Friday night's liable to be busy, right?"
He slouched against the counter. "Nothing I can't handle."
"No, that's a good idea," Theresa said. "The two of you can watch each other's backs."
"Whatever." Scott's bored expression was entirely too studied. And the way his eyes kept darting to Cherry completely gave him away. To Theresa's surprise, Cherry was casting a few sly looks of her own.
Well, well, well. Maybe there was some spark between those two....
The bells on the door jangled and she turned, expecting to greet a customer. Instead she found one of her favorite people, Madeline Cupples, who owned the Excessories Boutique down the street.
The petite, white-haired woman with a single diamond in the side of her nose held up her arms and enveloped the much taller, younger woman in an embrace. "Theresa, chica! You're just who I wanted to see."
"Hello, Madeline." Theresa smiled at her friend. "How are you doing?"
"I'm hanging in there. That's the best that can be expected these days."
"What can I do for you? You ready for another piercing? Or maybe another tattoo to go with the rosebud I did for you last year?"
The older woman grinned. "Maybe later. Right now, I wanted to tell you what's going on on the street."
Theresa led her friend over to a pair of folding chairs and they sat. "Not more bad news, I hope," she said.
"No, this is good news. The local business owners are banding together to get rid of the mud Carter and his cronies are slinging at us. And we want you to join us."
Theresa made a face. The idea of endless meetings, even with people who were mostly her friends, didn't appeal to her. "Do you really think it will do any good?"
"We can't just sit here like lumps and let them do all the talking, can we?"
Theresa shook her head. "I wish you luck, but that's not really my kind of thing. I'm thinking if we ignore all this, it will die down after the election."
"Or maybe not, if Carter wins."
Could that happen? Would people really vote for a blowhard like Carter, who was trying to do away with what was after all an Austin institution? She shook her head. "Thanks for asking me, though."
Madeline patted Theresa's knee, then stood. "You think about it. We'd love to have you working with us anytime."
Theresa stayed seated and watched Madeline bounce out of the shop. Where did the older woman get all her energy? Between trying to sort out her employees' love lives and deal with protesters and run a business, Theresa was exhausted. She was doubly glad she'd let Kyle talk her into getting away with him tonight. Things with him were uncomplicated. So far, he'd been the rare man who didn't ask a lot of questions or expect her to be anything other than herself.
She wasn't optimistic that attitude would last, but then, it didn't have to. They were in this for the short haul, for a vacation from the other problems in their lives. She only wished she'd thought of a similar arrangement sooner.
6
THERESA GOT BACK TO HER apartment a little after six o'clock and changed her jeans and halter for a pair of formfitting leather pants and a red satin bustier. She nodded approvingly at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. This was an outfit guaranteed to keep a man off guard. And Kyle deserved to be a little more unsettled around her, especially after the way he'd shaken her up last night.
She still couldn't believe she'd actually let him blindfold her. And that she'd enjoyed it. She rubbed her hand across her stomach, trying to ignore the nervous shimmy that ran through her at the memory. Okay, so the cowboy was dynamite in the sack. No problem with that. None at all. It didn't mean anything in particular that he rocked her world the way no one ever had.Besides, that was probably just because it had been their first night together. All that anticipation and the excitement of being with someone new probably combined to make things a little more erotic than they would have been otherwise. Things would probably be downhill from here on out.
She turned away from the mirror and began to rummage through her jewelry box. She hoped the sex didn't get dull too soon. She still had--what?--almost five weeks to enjoy her cowboy. She wanted to make the best of them.
When the doorbell rang, she took her time answering it. It wouldn't do to let him think she was too eager. But her cool facade slipped a little when she opened the door and saw him standing there. The casual cowboy had been replaced by a dangerously sexy man in tight black jeans and polished black boots, black tab-collar shirt and a black Stetson tilted low over his eyes. She put her hand to her chest, as if to hide the furious pounding of her heart.
He let out a low whistle. "If all the angels looked like you, every man would get religion." One step across the threshold and he was pulling her close, his mouth covering hers in a warm, welcoming kiss.
Trying to stay in charge of things--though part of her voted for ripping his clothes off then and there--she pushed away and took two steps back. "You certainly are dressed up," she said.
He glanced down at his outfit. "I've been told I clean up all right. Besides, I have to keep up with you."
She turned her back to him
and strolled toward the kitchen. "Can I get you a drink?"
"That's okay. We'd better leave or we'll be late."
That stopped her. She faced him once more. "Late for what?"
"We have dinner reservations."
"Dinner?" The sudden hollowness in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger. "You never said anything about dinner."
In three strides, he closed the gap between them and took her hand. "I believe I promised you something better than leftover bar pizza." He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. "And I'd never disappoint a lady."
"No one ever said I was a lady." She'd long ago stopped expecting them to. She wasn't one of those delicate ultra-feminine types men fawned over. Who wanted a fawning man, anyway?
He closed his hand around her fingers. "Come on, you'll enjoy this." He tugged her toward the door.
Still uncertain of the wisdom of going along with his plans, she snagged her purse from the table by the door and allowed him to lead her to his truck. "You didn't have to do this," she grumbled as he opened the passenger door for her. "It's not like we're really dating or anything."
"We both have to eat," he answered a moment later, as he slid into the driver's seat. He checked the mirrors, then started the engine. "Besides, you want to keep your strength up--for later."
His grin was an exaggerated leer. She couldn't help but laugh, even as desire fluttered in her middle. She fastened her seat belt and settled back in the seat. "I am a little hungry." She slicked her tongue across her lips, making sure he noticed.
He shifted in his seat and she allowed herself a smug smile. Oh, he'd noticed all right.
He drove toward Town Lake and pulled into the parking lot of the Hyatt. At first she thought they were going to the Foothills Restaurant, famous for its fajitas and its view of the lake. But he cruised past the hotel and parked in the shade of a live oak tree, next to a boat landing. "Ever been on a dinner cruise?" he asked as he set the parking brake and unfastened his seat belt.
