Cowboy-Sexy

by Donna Michaels

  Cammie met his frustrated gaze and silently implored him to say something. But the dumb Navy cowboy remained quiet, and before she knew it, she was alone in the driveway with her supposed fiancé.

  “What just happened?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened. My brother just signed his death warrant,” the cowboy all but growled.

  She couldn’t agree more, but her sense of duty kicked in and she felt obligated to stick up for her C.O. “You weren’t much help. I seemed to be the only one trying to set your mother straight. We’d better go inside and try again.” She grabbed his arm and attempted to tug him toward the house, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “It’ll have to wait until dinner.”

  He jerked free and glared at her as if the situation was her fault.

  “That jaunt to Amarillo put me behind.”

  Before she could reply, he was in the truck driving toward the stables, leaving her to stare after him.

  Of all the inconsiderate…

  “You’ll have to forgive him,” Terry said, and she turned to watch the foreman approach from the house. “That boy has no people skills. I swear Brett sucked them all up when they shared a womb.”

  She nodded and refused to let the stubborn SEAL consume anymore of her thoughts. “Well, if he’s right about the trip eating up your already tight schedule, then we should get to work, too.”

  Terry frowned. “Are you sure, miss? Me and the two other stable hands can handle today. You don’t have to start until the morning.”

  “I’m not here as Finn’s fiancée, remember? I came to fill in for Josh, so please put me to work.” Physical labor was exactly what she needed to keep dark thoughts at bay. It would also give her a chance to analyze her situation with a certain sexy, Navy cowboy and hopefully come up with a plan to neutralize their unwanted predicament.

  “Okay.” The foreman smiled. “Follow me.”

  Over the next few hours Cammie learned how to “muck” out a stall, the correct way to store feed so it didn’t become contaminated, and that maybe wearing a tank top wasn’t a good idea around college stable hands.

  It was late afternoon when she headed to the house with Terry.

  “Brett was right,” he said. “You’re one hell of a worker, Cammie.”

  She returned his smile. “I’m only too happy to help.”

  They stepped inside the house and she barely had time to admire the beautiful wooden floors, crisscross beamed ceiling, log walls and oak staircase, when Rose rushed forward, horror registering on her pretty face.

  “Cammie? Oh, hun, don’t tell me they had you working today. You only just got here.”

  “It’s okay. I insisted.”

  The older man nodded. “She was a great help, too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get ready for dinner. I see it looks to be a little formal.”

  His appreciative gaze dropped to Rose’s simple yet elegant navy dress.

  “I’ll see you two ladies, later,” he said before disappearing upstairs.

  Formal? Dang. Cammie quickly ran the inventory of her duffle bag through her mind. “I’m sorry, Rose, the only dress I brought is a white sundress, that’s providing it’s not all wet and wrinkled.”

  “No, your things were fine, my dear. I had everything put away in your room,” the woman reassured. “I know Finn will appreciate whatever you wear.”

  Finn. Right. Should she try to enlighten the woman again or wait for the cowboy? Cammie had come to the conclusion the best way to neutralize the situation was to meet it head on with the truth. She straightened her shoulders. It needed to be done. “Rose, I…”

  “Yes, dear?”

  Rose sounded hopeful, and so much like her mother Cammie lost her train of thought.

  The woman frowned and touched her arm. “Is everything all right?”

  Cammie cleared her throat. “Yes, I…I wasn’t sure which room was mine.”

  “Oh.” This time Rose blinked. “I’m sorry. I thought Finn would’ve shown you.”

  She could hardly tell her hostess the last thing he had shown her was the tail lights of his truck.

  “Go up the stairs and down the left wing. It’s the last door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” Cammie headed to the second floor, cursing both Brennan brothers. Today had been one hell of a day and it wasn’t over. She still had to break that poor woman’s heart.

  How could Brett do this to me? Worse yet, how could he treat his mother like that? He was so lucky to have her. And Cammie couldn’t in good conscience go along with her C.O.’s charade.

  Her heart was heavy as she entered the last room on the right, then it shot straight to her throat when Finn emerged from an adjoining bathroom.

  “What the hell are you doing in my room,” he demanded, wearing nothing but a towel.

  Lucky towel.

  Her suspicions had been correct. Cowboy-Sexy had a great body. An incredible body. Dang. He was all muscles and ridges.

  She’d seen his twin shirtless many times. Her whole unit had worked out together in the dessert gym set up to kill time between missions. Where Brett was broad and somewhat pumped, Finn was lean and hard, not just from a machine, but by a working man’s routine.

  Unable to stop herself, Cammie let her gaze travel over the towel and down his leg, noting purplish brown scars shooting up just above the towel near his right hip and jutting out below the towel to his right knee.

  She recalled her C.O.’s stricken expression when he had gotten the call about his brother and an explosion in Baghdad.

  “Well? I asked what you’re doing in my room.”

  Despite knowing Cowboy-Sexy was waiting for a reply, Cammie felt she owed it to the female population of the world to take another ten seconds and run her gaze back up his incredibly fit form.

  “Stupid marine,” he muttered.

  That brought her back to earth.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, Navy.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I was just admiring your…tattoo.”

  He glanced at his right arm then back to her, eyes narrowed. “How can you see it from there?”

  He had a point. She couldn’t. Damn. “It’s not easy from this angle. That’s what’s taking so long.”

  “Well, here, let me help.”

  Great. Now the nearly naked, hot cowboy was walking toward her. Move, stupid feet! Move! When they finally listened, she started to back up and her heel hit the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

  “Is that better?”

  His breath warmed her face, but she refused to meet his gaze. She was too busy counting the ridges in his abdomen, duly noting he had a seven pack. One more than his brother. Wonder if Brett knew?

  Cammie swallowed and tried to hang on to reality, every fiber in her being crying out for her to touch the man so well displayed and so close. She jammed both hands in her back pockets and forced her gaze to his tattoo.

  It was larger than she had expected, the blue ink taking up his whole bicep. The bold detailing in the trident and subtle shading between the eagle’s feathers instantly grabbed her attention. The artist had been no amateur.

  “What a beautiful piece of work. You had it done after you retired, didn’t you?”

  She looked up, catching the briefest glimpse of mischief before his gaze hardened and he moved away.

  “You mean before I was forced out.”

  Her heart constricted. The man really loved the SEALs.

  “I’m sorry, Finn. I know what it’s like to want to be with your unit and not being able to.”

  He studied her intently. “I believe you do…and yes, I got the tattoo after I was discharged. SEALs aren’t allowed to wear any symbol that could identify them as such.”

  “Because it could put the mission or their life in jeopardy,” she finished for him.

  “I take it you’ve known a few SEALs?”

  Pain and a smattering of guilt jolted her from the hazy prison his sexy body had induced. “Yes.
You’ve known a few Marines…I’ve met a few Navy guys. You know how it goes.” She played it nonchalant.

  “True.” A spark of mischief returned to his eyes as he surveyed her body. “I also know since you’ve seen my tattoo, it’s only fair you show me yours.”

  Chapter Four

  “Show you my tattoo?” Cammie couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Finn shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. “So, Ms. Walker, we’re back to my original question. Why the hell are you in my room?”

  She lifted her chin. “Your mother told me my room was down the left wing, last door on the right.”

  “Son-of-a…” His arms dropped to his sides. “I’m sorry. I’ll get this cleared up when we go down for dinner. Feel free to use my shower. I promise I’ll be gone before you’re done.”

  She hesitated. He was Brett’s brother. And a SEAL. Surely she could trust him. “Okay. I just need to find my clothes.”

  For the first time since arriving, Cammie took in her surroundings. Beams crisscrossed the ceiling and log walls continued the theme from downstairs. A blending of blues, browns, and greens encompassed the room. Very male, but very comfortable.

  Navy curtains hung over the large window behind the king sized wood-carved bed. A blue comforter and shams covered the mattress. Very no-nonsense. Very Finn.

  At the bottom of the bed was a long wooden bench with Finn’s dirty T-shirt and jeans on top. So far, no sign of her clothes.

  A green sofa with blue and green plaid pillows bordered the far wall, anchored by an end table with a traditional lamp that matched the ones on the nightstands. A large closet took up the opposite wall, along with a big beautiful wooden armoire. Facing the bed was a stunning stone fireplace with a large flat screen television hanging above the mantel. And in the corner where that wall met the far one was the door to the bathroom.

  “I…ah…don’t see my duffle bag,” she said, glancing around the room one more time before meeting Finn’s gaze.

  He stiffened, then strode to the closet and flung open both doors. “Found it.”

  Her meager belongings took up a few hangers and a couple of shelves in his closet, while her empty duffle bag sat on the floor near her boots, sandals and kitten heels.

  It was a sad sight, but Cammie was too preoccupied with her unexpected situation to care. She couldn’t possibly stay in this room with Finn. “We’ve got to convince your mother we’re not engaged.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And kill Brett when he gets home,” she added.

  Once again her mind grew fuzzy as she watched the Navy cowboy unexpectedly throw his head back and laugh. The action rippled muscles straight down to his towel. Cammie quickly averted her gaze. She was running on Cowboy-Sexy overload. Best not to push it.

  If only she could grab her dress and lock herself in the bathroom. But his tempting, nearly naked body stood in the way, and she didn’t dare get close again. She stayed by the door while he took up stance in front of the closet.

  “Not if I kill him first.” He stared at her with a challenge in his gaze.

  The man was gorgeous. For safety sake, she had better let him win this one. “Okay, Navy, since he’s your brother, you can have first shot.”

  “I can?”

  He moved so quick and so smooth, he was in front of her before she could react.

  “Doesn’t that go against the Marine code?”

  “What code?”

  “The one where you never back down. You’ve always got to win. You do what you want, when you want, even if you’re told not to.”

  Sadness shot through Cammie. “Is that what happened in Baghdad?”

  He stiffened and a veil of indifference instantly washed away his open expression.

  “We need to get ready.”

  She watched him return to the closet and pull out a pair of jeans.

  “Um, your mom was dressed kind of formal.”

  His hand stilled and she heard an accompanying curse.

  “Fine.”

  In his state of mind, she was under no illusion he’d drop his towel and dress with her there. The notion sent her rushing to her side of the closet to quickly grab her things. Not because she was a prude, but because the man was too damn tempting.

  Fifteen minutes later, Cammie slipped into her white, halter-style sundress and kitten heels, added a quick coat of mascara and peach gloss, then grabbed her brush. With no time to dry her long hair, she pulled the sides away from her face and secured it with a barrette in the back. Nothing fancy, but it would have to do.

  She hurried through the bedroom, not at all surprised to find it empty and Finn a man of his word. Now, if he would just keep his word about setting his mother straight, things could almost get to normal.

  Cammie descended the stairs, contemplating taking them two at a time, until she heard laughter and voices. Lots of voices. Her heart sank. There was going to be more than just the four of them at dinner.

  “Here she is.” Rose rushed forward to meet her on the last step. “This is my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Cammie.” Her hostess linked their arms and drew her into the open gathering room, past a grinning Terry.

  Odd. There were only two extra guests in the room. It had sounded like a lot more. Her gaze found and locked onto the cowboy talking with an older man near the wet bar. Shoot. Now what do they do? Her mind briefly took in Finn’s tan pants, light green polo, and the newer black Stetson on his head. Dang, Cowboy-Sexy cleaned up nice.

  Rose introduced her to Aunt Lettie and then to Uncle Bo, and when the trio were busy filling glasses with champagne, she took the opportunity to make her way to Finn and talk to him out of earshot.

  “I thought you were supposed to straighten your mother out.”

  “I couldn’t,” he whispered, smile still on his face as the others watched. “They were here when I came down and she’d already told them. I was not about to announce her error to everyone.”

  Now what should they do?

  “Finn, Cammie, here you go. Let’s have a toast,” his mother said, shoving a flute in their hands before taking one from Terry. “To my son and his beautiful bride-to-be, may you find nothing but happiness.”

  “Here, here,” echoed around the room.

  Cammie had no choice but to lift her glass and drink. The drinking part was easy. Too easy. She’d swallowed half before she knew it and had to refrain from downing the rest and reaching for her fake fiancé’s. Where was the bottle?

  “Easy there, sweetheart.”

  Finn chuckled, those gorgeous blue eyes of his looking a little too condescending for her taste.

  “It’s okay, honey-lumpkins, I’ve done this before.” She winked at him, then drained her glass. “We wouldn’t want to jinx the toast, would we? Go ahead, drink up.” She pushed his glass to his mouth.

  Finn emptied his flute and set it next to hers on the bar. “Now it’s my turn to propose a toast.” He refilled their champagne, placed the drink in her hand before lifting his back into the air. “To my beautiful, stubborn, Marine. May she get all she deserves…in life.”

  What she deserved was the opportunity to knock the patronizing Navy cowboy on his sexy ass, but since that wasn’t an option, she looked him straight in the eyes and responded, “Semper Fi.”

  The champagne went down real smooth that time. Real smooth. Could be due to the fact his gaze darkened to a murderous hue or because he clenched his jaw when the others echoed her sentiment. Maybe both. Yeah, definitely both.

  “Oh, I forgot. Cammie, let me see your ring.” Aunt Lettie glanced at Cammie’s naked finger then frowned at her nephew.

  “I’m working on it.” Finn grinned, but Cammie felt every muscle in the cowboy’s body tighten as if afflicted with a bout of rigormortis.

  “Okay, then it’s time for pictures,” his aunt proclaimed and started snapping away.

  “Oh, I want pictures, too.” His mother step
ped forward, camera in hand, and they spent the next ten minutes getting their photos taken with everyone in the room.

  “Now, how about one of just the happy couple?” His mother waved the others out of the shot and pushed her closer to Finn.

  Just kill me now, Cammie thought until two strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a rock hard chest. Okay, so maybe this has its perks.

  Completely taking advantage of the situation, she ran her hand up his magnificent torso, and settled in for a few more shots. Yep, some definite perks.

  Until someone hollered, “Kiss her!”

  Oh, no. Cammie immediately sprang into action. Snatching the hat off Finn’s head, she held the black Stetson in front of them, blocking what she hoped looked like an actual kiss, when all she did was make a face at him.

  She was overtired and maybe a little tipsy. When that happened she got silly. Poor, Finn. She could only image what he was thinking. His stunned expression made her smile. She crossed her eyes until he laughed.

  “Drop the hat,” someone called.

  Cammie put the Stetson on her head, then turned to the cameras for several more photos.

  “Come on, kiss her,” Terry repeated.

  Traitor.

  Finn removed the hat and tossed it to Terry, then his hand cupped her chin, while the other curled around her hip and drew her in close. “If you insist.”

  For the second time that night, she had to fight the urge to run. What was wrong with her? It was only a kiss.

  As he lowered his head, her heartbeats quickened. This was a bad idea, but there was no sense delaying the inevitable. She eased a hand around his back and the other up that incredible chest of his again. His blue eyes darkened to navy and widened a fraction.

  Good. Why should she be the only one uncomfortable?

  When their lips finally met, her grip tightened on his shirt as an unexpected fission shot through her body, waking up the butterflies in her stomach. Cammie thought they had died with her fiancé in Kandahar.

  Her mind barely registered the hoots and hollers going around the room. She was tired and silly, and baffled. Maybe the butterflies only showed up for fiancés. A lone giggle raced up her throat and broke the kiss.