by Desiree Holt
Amy’s stomach did a funny little flip. Walk him to his truck? In the dark?
“I think I can find my way,” Buck said.
“Forget it. It’s just good manners.” Matt looked at her. “Amy?”
She pasted on a smile, trying not to think about the sudden rush of heat. “Of course. Come on, Buck. Besides, this way I get out of kitchen duty.”
They walked in silence to the far side of the house where the parking area was. The night was so still she could hear the sounds of her own breathing. Finally, they reached his big, shiny, black truck—she always thought of them as an extension of men’s penises—and stood there while he fished his keys from his pocket.
“Well,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
He turned and was so close she was sure only a piece of paper could slide between them.
“Well, indeed.”
Her heart was thumping so loudly she wondered if he could hear it.
Run. Run as fast as you can.
Then his hands were on her shoulders and his mouth took hers in a bruising kiss she felt all the way to the soles of her feet. Her body went liquid, her mouth opening for him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. When he thrust his tongue inside her, her own danced with it, an erotic ballet that sent lust shimmering through her. When he pulled her tight against his body, she felt the ridge of his cock against the soft denim of his jeans, thick and hard, demanding attention.
With his mouth still fused to hers, he slid his hands down her back to cup the cheeks of her ass, squeezing and kneading.
I’m crazy. I must be insane. This is not happening.
But it was, and she never wanted it to end.
He moved one of his large hands around to tug her blouse from her jeans. Before she could protest, he’d shoved her bra upward and cupped her breast, rasping his thumb over her hardened nipple.
Breathe! I need to breathe!
Buck finally lifted his mouth from hers and trailed his lips across her cheek, finding the sensitive spot beneath one ear. His breath was a warm breeze against her skin, his touch so electrifying she could feel her nerves spark and riot. Her panties were damp with her arousal, her cunt throbbing with need.
Then, suddenly, he lifted his head and used his hands to set her apart from him. She stared at him, confused.
“What?” What had she done wrong? She was totally confused. Here were the damn mixed signals again.
“I’m no good for you.” His voice was rough, his breathing uneven. “I’m no damn good for you, and I should just walk away. But I can’t, damn me. From the minute I saw you on that road you were in my blood, and I can’t get you out.”
She stared up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“No, I guess you don’t.” He blew out a breath. “Amy, if you’re smart, you’ll turn around and run back to the house as fast as you can. I know you feel what’s brewing between us just like I do. There doesn’t seem to be any turning away from it.” His caress on her cheek was both rough and tender. “So we’ll see where it takes us and hope neither of us gets burned.”
“Buck,” she began, trying to slam her brain into gear, “I don’t know what—”
He touched her lips with his fingertips. “No. Don’t say a word. We just can’t get around this. Maybe we’ll be like a flash fire, once and done. And I hope we survive.”
“And maybe it will turn out to be something else.” Did she actually say that? Was she out of her mind?
“I’m giving you fair warning, Amy.” He gripped her shoulders tightly. “If you want to walk away, do it now.”
She cocked her head. “What’s wrong, Buck? What is so terrible that you have such a pessimistic outlook?”
For a moment, that same terrible look she’d seen before flashed briefly across his face. Then he bent his head and brushed his lips against hers. “Let’s just see what happens. Maybe we’ll get whatever this is out of our systems and move forward from there.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just stood there, clothes disheveled, lips bruised from kisses, and watched him climb up into the cab of the truck. He cranked the engine and then rolled down the window.
“Dinner,” he told her. “Tomorrow night. Casual. Pick you up at six. Oh, and don’t expect to be home before morning.”
Amy watched him drive away, still feeling his mouth on hers, his hands on her body. She had the feeling she’d just stepped into the deep end of the pool.
Buck flipped the light switch as he walked into the house, tossed his hat onto a hat rack—left over from the previous owner—and headed for the kitchen to get a cold drink. What he really wanted was a stiff shot of whiskey, but after a terrible night long ago he’d promised himself never again. So he made do with a soda, popped the top and carried it out to the back porch. He stood staring out at the landscape as he sipped on his drink.
He was already convinced he’d done a damn foolish thing tonight. He should have just gotten in his truck, come home and taken a cold shower. But the pull between him and Amy Stark was so strong he couldn’t tear himself away from it. It had taken all he had not to strip her clothes off there in the parking lot of her home. He was only glad the kitchen was on the other side of the house so they were away from curious eyes.
His cock was still hard enough to hammer nails. What he really wanted was to hammer inside her luscious body, but not out there like some berserker. She deserved candles and seduction, and he was damned determined to give them to her. That way if they clicked and she ever heard about his background, she’d have something to balance it.
It was the alcohol, he kept reminding himself. The alcohol and a hot temper. And a need to prove himself to his own people and to others. At twenty, he’d finally broken away from his family on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming to compete on the rodeo circuit. The parting had been painful. His mother, a full-blooded Arapaho, and the elders had warned him of the rampant bigotry on the circuit and the ridicule he’d be subjected to. In the Arapaho tribe it was a bad thing to disrespect and ignore the wisdom of the elders, so his leaving had put him outside the tribe. Outside his family. He hadn’t given much credence to their warnings, anyway. Or cared. He was young and a wicked rider and thought he had the world in the palm of his hand.
But the elders had been right about the prejudice. He had to fight, literally, for every place in the competition. And once there, he’d had to be better than everyone else. Each year his skills had improved until he was winning nearly every event he entered. People came from everywhere to watch the rider who was one with the horse, who rode the baddest bulls, who tamed the horses that bucked the most. He rode as Narsimha, Lion Among Men, for that was how he saw himself. The atmosphere was heady. The smell of sawdust and horseflesh, the cheers of the crowds, the beautiful young women who hung around for him because he was a winner. Maybe they thought it would be an adventure to fuck an Indian. Whatever. He took what was his and kept on taking.
The resentment against him grew with each win, until fistfights and a night in jail became common occurrences for him. His courage came from the alcohol he drank, but it also stoked his temper.
Until one night when, as usual, he was drunk out of his mind. The rodeo he’d competed in had been comparatively small but with a very rich purse. For the previous five years he’d come in second overall to a local hero, but that night he took everything, including the belt buckle. The local hero and his friends hadn’t taken too kindly to that. He’d gotten in a bloody bar brawl with other riders who were angry and resented him. They’d built a frame around him he almost couldn’t get out of. When he woke up in the morning with a hangover bigger than the Grand Canyon, the charge of rape he was faced with shocked him senseless. He’d done a lot of things since leaving home, but that wasn’t one of them.
The people in the town had been ready to string him up. The sheriff had had to send deputies out to disperse an angry mob. Gossip had blackened his name everywhere. But the men who’
d set him up hadn’t counted on him having an alibi. A sheriff’s deputy had found him passed out behind one of the local bars and hauled his ass to jail. When the supposed rape had taken place, Buck had been locked up good and tight.
He couldn’t seem to avoid the stink of the rape, even when the charge was proven to be bogus. There were many—too many—who thought he’d just wiggled out from under it. He knew it would follow him on the circuit, so he paid attention to his wakeup call and quit. Made himself disappear. And stopped drinking altogether.
That had been a hard one, especially since the rage at what had been done to him still lingered. He’d wished for better relationships with his family and the ancient cure of the sweat lodge, but he’d made his choices and was stuck with them. He’d done one thing right during all those years of hell-raising. He’d opened a bank account, knowing he wouldn’t be able to ride the circuit forever. Although he’d spent a lot on equipment and liquor, he was smart enough in some corner of his brain to stash as much as he could in that account after every rodeo.
He’d changed his name back to the English one his father, Duke Montgomery, had given him and set out to realize his ultimate dream—owning his own ranch. Two years spent as a hand on a ranch in West Texas, a place he’d never been in before, gave him a good base of knowledge and a lot of space between the man he’d been and the man he’d become.
Finally, with cash in hand and enough experience to know what he was doing, he’d picked a place where people weren’t likely to know him and put down roots. The rage at what had been done to him still simmered slowly in a dark place of his mind, but he kept it tucked away or he’d go crazy. He constructed a new person, a new personality. And moved forward with his plans.
What he never expected was Amy Stark and the compelling, undeniable attraction that flamed between them. Each time he saw her, the desire only grew stronger. And it was more than sexual heat. There was an undeniable emotional thread tugging the two of them together. Something he’d never felt for any of the many other women who’d filled the landscape of his life. He was sure if she knew the truth about him, she wouldn’t think him worth even a twitch of her eyebrow. But as much as he tried to convince himself to walk away, it didn’t seem to be an option.
He had two choices. Ignore her, and to do so he’d have to be rude and crude in order to conceal his real feelings. But Amy was a woman who was a respected member of the community, who came from a family with a long line of history in the area. Treating her that way would only make him an outsider here before he’d hardly gotten started. Or he could try to set aside his past and follow through on the lightning that struck them with such force. He knew that was taking a big chance. He was hardly deserving of her. And then there was the man he’d bumped into who thought he looked familiar. How often was that going to happen?
But he could no more deny their chemistry than he could stop breathing.
He looked up at the starlit sky and, for the first time in years, wished he remembered the old prayers his grandfather had taught him.
Chapter Four
Amy took one last look at herself in the mirror, checking the long peasant skirt and embroidered top she wore. Casual and feminine. That’s what she’d aimed for. Golden hoops dangled at her ears and three bracelets jingled on her arm. She’d used her most expensive lotion and perfume after her shower. Having accepted where tonight would lead, deciding to take the risk, she wanted to make herself as tempting as possible. If this whole thing went down in flames, the way her relationships seemed to have a habit of going, and the way she feared the situation with Buck would go considering his hot-and-cold signals, she at least wanted to look her best when it happened.
Finally, she gathered her purse and her sweater and headed out to the great room. She didn’t want to give Matt an opportunity to cross-examine Buck, but she also didn’t want to put herself in that spot either. Would it look too stupid if she waited outside?
But both Matt and Reenie were sitting in the great room, one pretending to watch television, the other reading a book. Their greeting to her was so studiedly casual as to be laughable.
“Okay.” She held up a hand. “Here’s the way it is. I’m going out on a date, I’m well over twenty-one, neither of you are my parents and I’m not answering any questions. Oh, and I don’t know when I’ll be home, so don’t ask.”
“Why, Amy,” Matt teased. “Us old folks are just settled in for a night at home.”
“Yeah, with your eyes glued to the door.” She walked over to stand in front of him. “You listen to me, Matthew Stark. One word out of line, one inch of your nose in my business and I’ll make your life a living hell.”
Reenie laughed. “She’s got your number, Matt.”
“You may say hello to him,” Amy went on. “Cordially. Tell us to have a good time and then shut up.”
“Not too good a time,” Matt said with a straight face.
Amy would have given him a snotty reply, but the doorbell rang at that moment. She took a deep breath, curved her lips in a smile and opened the door. And nearly swallowed her tongue. Buck Montgomery stood there in all his six-foot-plus glory, looking far too sexy for his own good. For her own good.
His muscular body was clad in black jeans and a white long-sleeved western shirt that set off his dark complexion. Where the top two snaps were open, the dark, curly hair from his chest just peeked out, and her hands itched to touch it. His thick black hair, which just brushed the collar of his shirt, was carefully combed but gave off a silent invitation to run her fingers through it. His feet were shod in spit-polished black boots that looked hand-tooled. But it was the heat in his eyes that singed her and blazed straight through her body.
Matt had risen from the couch and stood beside her, hand held out.
“Did you want to tell me her curfew, Dad?” Buck’s mouth turned up in a grin as the two men shook hands. “Because I think that’s gone by the wayside.”
“Matt just likes to take his big-brother role a little too seriously,” Amy snapped. “If he doesn’t back off, I might be tempted to give you a synopsis of his wild bachelor days.”
“Hey!” Matt gave her an innocent look. “Just shaking hands with a friend here.”
But the atmosphere was clear to everyone. And in Matt’s eyes, she saw his acknowledgment of her words: Message received. Mind your own business.
“Well.” Amy edged toward the door. “I’d love to continue this wonderful conversation, but I think it’s time for us to go.”
Buck’s smile made her pussy throb, and his possessive arm around her heated her blood.
“You got it, darlin’.”
Buck laughed, a rich, deep sound as he handed her up into the cab of his truck. “I think your brother’s worried about his little sister,” he told her.
“My brother keeps forgetting I’m not twelve.” She ground her teeth, then forced herself to relax. She had enough to be tense about tonight without throwing Matt into the mix.
“I think if I had a younger sister who looked like you, I’d be worried too.” He slid behind the steering wheel.
“Should he be worried?” she teased.
The look he gave her was smoldering and there was nothing at all humorous in it. “Probably.” Then he started the truck, backed up and headed out of the driveway.
“Where are we going?” Amy asked, searching for something safe to discuss.
“I did a little research. There’s a nice restaurant, nothing fancy, in the next town over. The Ranch House. I’m sure you’ve eaten there.”
“Yes, I have. Several times. It lives up to its reputation for the best steaks in Texas.” She gave him a curious look. “Was there a reason you didn’t want to eat in town here?”
He was silent for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “I thought you might like something a little more private. Out of the way. I didn’t think you’d want everyone stopping by the table asking you questions.”
She frowned. “I’m not asham
ed for people to see me with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Are you?”
He was silent for so long Amy wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer.
“Well?” she prompted, anger beginning to rise inside her.
“No. Not at all. Far from it. Will you just take my word for it that until we’re sure where this is going, we should keep a low profile? Please?”
There was something there, but she wasn’t ready to push it yet. Not now. At least until she learned how tonight turned out.
“Okay. If you’re more comfortable this way, I’m fine with it.”
She could actually see the tension drain from his body. Whatever this was, sooner or later she was going to find out. But for tonight she’d just concentrate on enjoying herself.
The hostess led them to a corner booth where the lighting was dim and enhanced only by the glow of the candle on the table. Watching Amy walk in front of him, hips swaying with a natural rhythm, it had taken every bit of his self-control not to smooth his hands over her body. The fact they were in a public place was a great deterrent. He’d promised himself to go slow tonight, not leap on her like a starving man. Try to take his signals from her. If and when the stories of his past came out—and he had no doubt that at some point they’d surface—he hoped she’d have a picture of a man totally different from the one he’d been. And know he wasn’t capable of such a savage crime.
Amy ordered a glass of white wine, but he settled for his usual black coffee. She looked at him across the table, curiosity in her eyes.
“I noticed you didn’t drink the other night either,” she said. “Any special reason?”
“Alcohol doesn’t agree with me.” He forced a smile. “Does that make me socially unacceptable?”
She laughed, a light, musical sound. “No. Just an object of curiosity. Of course, for me it puts you at the top of the list.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Uh-huh. Before he settled down, Matt could drink anyone under the table. And often did. Sometime we’ll get him to tell you about the night he and Reenie met.” She studied him and then set her wine glass aside.
