Love, never far away, came into Zoe’s dark blue eyes. “And well you should be, Jake Cutler.”
Zoe blinked, stifling a small gasp of surprise as the flash on Brianne’s camera went off again. Zoe looked at her, confused.
If this shot wasn’t a keeper, she wasn’t worth her weight in negatives, Brianne thought. “Sorry if I startled you,” she said to Zoe. “I just couldn’t resist. You make a very nice couple. And this is a story on the whole ranch, not just Kent. My father’s told me so much about the Shady Lady Ranch, I just had to see it for myself.”
“Hold it. None of it is going to be Kent,” Kent corrected Brianne tersely.
What did it take for this woman to get that through her thick head? He was speaking plain enough for an idiot to understand. Just what was her problem?
Brianne swung around to look at him. He hadn’t noticed before how large her eyes were. Large and luminous. And maybe a little hypnotic. They seemed to gleam like two blue topaz stones, bombarded by the sun.
They could be beacons, for all he cared, he told himself. A big-eyed look didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean she was going to get her way. He had a hell of a lot more important things to do than play wet nurse to some roaming photographer, even if she did come packaged in a neat, tempting bundle.
Outgoing and friendly, Brianne still enjoyed a good war of wills when the occasion arose. “But you are part of the ranch,” she pointed out.
“A very big part,” Jake put in. There was pride in every word. They might be stubborn to a fault, but not one of his kids had ever disappointed him when it really mattered. “Kent’s been running the ranch for us for the last three years, right after I had that bout of indigestion.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “It was a heart attack,” she pronounced firmly, looking at Brianne. “Man didn’t know the meaning of the words ‘slow down.’ Always had to be on the go, always knew best.”
She loved him, warts and all, but Jake could be absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be. The thought of facing life without him had brought a positive chill to her heart, so Zoe had enlisted all her children’s help in convincing Jake that it was time to hand over the reins to Kent. She meant to keep the father of her children around for a good long time.
Jake grinned. He winked broadly at Brianne. “When we all know that it’s Zoe who knows best.”
They were so cute, Brianne thought. It warmed her to be in the midst of such blatant love.
A tiny sliver of envy pricked her. Kent Cutler and his siblings were lucky people, to have grown up to see this kind of affection expressed in their everyday lives. She loved her father dearly and he was a wonderful man, but for the most part, he’d been absent from her life. Always somewhere else, always busy building up the business that now bore his name.
For Brianne it had been a lonely childhood. Her mother had died when she was very young, so Brianne had enjoyed the company of some very highly paid, very intelligent, kindly nannies. Their kindness notwithstanding, it definitely wasn’t the same thing that the Cutler crew had enjoyed.
Too bad all that affection hadn’t rubbed off Kent’s rough edges, she mused. But that just made the challenge more interesting, and she’d never met a man she couldn’t talk her way around, one way or another.
“Yes,” Zoe was saying to her. “I do know best. Which is why Kent’s handling things around here. Jake and I are rather like the queen of England. Figureheads,” she explained after a beat when Jake just looked at her.
“You can be queen of England,” Jake told his wife with a snort, then jerked a thumb at himself. “Me, I’m the king.”
“There is no king of England,” Zoe told him smugly. “Just a prince.” The answer gave Jake pause.
Kent shifted. He’d wasted enough time. There was only so much daylight available and he meant to make the most of it He inclined his head toward his parents, like a vassal giving them their due.
“If your royal highnesses don’t mind, I’m going back to my place to get a couple of things and then get back to work.”
“You don’t live here?” Brianne looked around the large, sprawling ranch house. At first glance, there seemed to be enough room to house the entire clan and then some.
Kent didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder. His goal was the door and he meant to reach it. Quickly. “No, I don’t.”
He would have left the explanation—and the lady—hanging right there. But his mother added, “He lives in a house just a mile and a half from here. Our son Will designed it. He’s the architect. You’ll be staying here with Jake and me, of course, but maybe you’d like to see Kent’s place.”
That stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly around. Just what had gotten into his mother? She usually left him to his own devices. This was a hell of a time to start meddling in his life.
“No, she wouldn’t,” Kent announced.
And that, he figured, walking out, was that.
Except that it wasn’t.
By the time Kent had crossed the threshold and was outside the house, Brianne and the infernal camera that swung like some kind of grotesque appendage at her side had already caught up to him.
“Yes, ‘she’ would,” she contradicted cheerfully. “It’s part of your life, isn’t it?”
He glared at her. “So’s washing. You going to watch me take a shower, too?”
Her grin broadened. “The piece isn’t going to be that in-depth.”
Although sales, Brianne was certain, would go through the roof if there were a photo of Kent in the altogether included in the article. There was no doubt in her mind that the body beneath the worn jeans and dirty workshirt was lean and hard. The kind of stuff that fantasies were made of.
She had tenacity, he’d give her that. But he had more, Kent thought, looking down into her determined eyes. She wore an amused expression, he noticed. Just what was there that struck her so funny?
Was she amusing herself, the sophisticated city girl, checking out the country bumpkins?
“The piece isn’t going to be at all,” he informed Brianne.
Oh yes, it is. I’ve faced down more stubborn men than you, Kent Cutler, Brianne thought.
“You can’t be that camera-shy,” she insisted incredulously.
She sounded as if she knew the workings of his mind better than he did. Kent had had just about his fill. “Being camera-shy has nothing to do with it—”
“Then you think I’ll get in the way.” She didn’t give him time to piece together his thoughts, or his rebuttal. “I won’t, I promise. You won’t even know I’m there.”
Almost involuntarily, his eyes swept over her. Brianne Gainsborough smelled like lilacs and looked like blond sin on toast. Even blindfolded and hog-tied, there was no way he wouldn’t know she was there.
His eyes darkened ominously. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”
She threw him by laughing and saying, “All of it.” And then she made matters more difficult by smiling up at him as if they were the best of friends, instead of on opposite sides of a very private fence. “Be a sport, Kent. Two weeks, that’s all I ask.” She held up two fingers. “Two weeks out of your life. I’ll be gone before you know it.” Her smiled deepened a little, just enough to give it breadth and substance. “This series is very important to me.”
It was, he realized. He could see it in those damn blue eyes of hers. His own narrowed. The struggle with his better instincts told him he was about to make a very large mistake. He tried to compensate. “What’s in it for me if I say yes?”
The smile widened. She could smell capitulation. Brianne was a magnanimous victor. “What do you want there to be in it for you?”
Kent had no answer, because he hadn’t expected the question. Foolishly, he thought his own would make the woman back off.
“I’ll let you know,” was all he muttered.
Yes!
Triumphant, Brianne surprised him for the second time in ten minutes.
This time the instrument of surprise wasn’t a camera. It was formed by two arms and two lips as Brianne threw the former around his neck and pressed the latter against his mouth. Quickly, fleetingly and completely on impulse.
Just the way a mule kicked.
2
He resisted only because it took him completely by surprise. A sudden movement Kent hadn’t, not in his wildest dreams, anticipated. Strangers didn’t kiss you, certainly not with such gusto and feeling. They shook your hand. Maybe.
This was no handshake.
The next moment, sensations burrowed in, muting Kent’s surprise. Dissolving it. Delicious sensations that he hadn’t been prepared to sample.
But wasn’t unprepared to enjoy.
Instincts rather than thought had him bringing his arms around to encircle her and something far more basic than thought caused him to lightly glide his hands along the curve of her back.
She tasted like sugar-dusted strawberries picked right in the heart of summer, and her kiss made his head spin like he’d just downed a shot of hundred-year-old bourbon—precisely three fingers’ worth, rapidly, on an empty stomach.
He’d never come up against anyone like her.
Without realizing just what he was doing, Kent pulled her closer, trying to get to the heart of this dizzying feeling. To have more before there wasn’t any left.
Or until he returned to his senses, whichever happened first.
But even as the sensations crowded around him, blotting out everything else, he could feel her drawing away. Could feel her lips leaving his.
Sanity returned, chasing away the golden hues that had so quickly set up housekeeping within him. He tried not to look as thoroughly rattled as he felt.
Well, that had certainly been more than she’d bargained for, Brianne thought. Her body felt hot, flushed. She ran her hand along the back of her neck, certain that there were singe marks all along it as well as the rest of her body. What had begun in a burst of enthusiasm had gone on to be quite something else. Something disturbingly more.
The “burst” had roused a sleeping volcano. She could feel, even now, the rumblings vibrating within her. She actually felt a little shaky, as if some of the bones in her knees had been subjected to meltdown. And if it wouldn’t have been so damn obvious, she would have run her tongue along her lips, just to savor his taste.
He had definitely aroused her. She wondered if he’d done it intentionally, then decided by the look on Kent’s face that he hadn’t. He looked as stunned as she felt. That was comforting, and yet exciting to her at the same time.
Grinning, Brianne took a step away from him. With a huge sigh, she pretended to fan herself with her hand. “No wonder ladies love cowboys.”
Kent had never been known to be overly talkative, but it wasn’t usually because someone had robbed him of the ability to speak. The way Brianne had done just now. It took him a minute to even find his tongue, another to get it in working order again.
Trying to collect himself, to gather wits that seemed to have spilled out like so many peas rolling away from an upended can, he stood staring at Brianne. At the tight, firm body encased in worn jeans and a denim jacket, both of which adhered to her every curve as if they comprised a comfortable, second skin.
He hadn’t a clue what to make of her.
Kent wasn’t altogether sure that anyone could make Brianne Gainsborough out. At least, not unless they had an advanced degree in some sort of pretentious-sounding course of study.
The pit of his stomach felt like warm jelly. Just what the hell had happened here?
He tried to scowl, but he couldn’t quite get his face to work that way. The best he could manage was to look solemn.
“You kiss everyone like that?”
Brianne’s pulse had finally stopped racing faster than the speed of light. It was a start.
She took another long breath before answering. “Nope. Only when I’m happy.” Her eyes smiled at him just as warmly as her lips did. Maybe even more so. “And you, Kent Cutler, have made me very happy.”
Well, it wasn’t mutual. He didn’t like feeling as if he’d just been dropped headfirst into a whirlpool, and he wasn’t about to stand around, waiting for a repeat performance. Nor did he intend to help perpetuate that look on her face, no matter how well the woman could press two lips together—and who taught her to kiss like that, anyway?
No, it didn’t matter, he told himself almost immediately. He didn’t care who’d taught her. All he cared about was finding a way to make her leave. So if Brianne Gainsborough’s happiness depended on dogging his every move, she was going to find herself unhappy very soon.
Without commenting on the sentiment she’d just expressed, Kent strode over to the horse he’d left hitched to one of the porch columns and swung into his saddle. Just as he made contact with the well-oiled leather, he heard the annoying sound of her camera greedily stealing a little more of his privacy.
This time, he did scowl. And growl. “Do you have to start that already?”
Brianne slid the protective casing around the camera again. The action was so much a part of her, she wasn’t even aware of doing it.
“I don’t believe in wasting time or opportunities.” She slung the camera over her shoulder like a handbag, then lifted one hand up to him. “Give me a hand up?”
Now what was she up to? “Up to what?”
She would have thought that was rather obvious. Determined to remain polite, she nodded at his mount. “Your horse. I can’t get on behind you unless you give me your hand.”
And he wasn’t about to, either, Kent thought. He had no desire to go galloping off into the sunset with her. He felt sure that was what was on her mind. Some fool romantic notion like that. He and his way of life probably represented nothing more than a caricature to her, a twisted version of what really existed.
Instead, looking at her darkly, he gestured to her parked car. “Something’s wrong with your car?”
She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder at the rented vehicle. “Nothing.” She patted the quarter horse’s powerful neck, genuine appreciation in her eyes. “I just want to get into the proper mood, that’s all.”
Proper mood for what? he wondered warily.
He noted the look in her eyes. Well, at least the woman knew good horseflesh when she saw it. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d only known her fifteen minutes and she was already getting to be one royal pain in the. butt.
With a disgusted expression he didn’t bother to disguise, Kent took her hand and jerked Brianne up behind him.
He’d give her the proper mood, all right. Just wait until tomorrow, he silently promised himself. When he was finished showing this woman with the pricey boots the way a real working ranch operated, she’d be content to do the rest of her research watching old Westerns on one of the cable stations that his sister, Morgan, was always telling him about.
If he was rougher with her than she’d expected, Brianne gave no indication. No squeals of protest or distress escaped her lips as she hit the saddle. Instead, she laced her arms tightly around his waist and announced, “Okay, I’m ready.”
She might be ready, Kent thought darkly, but he wasn’t.
He wasn’t ready for the odd flicker of warmth that wafted through him when she laid her cheek against his shoulder. Wasn’t ready for the way his body reacted when she pressed hers against him as he took off. Nope, he just wasn’t ready.
Annoyed with himself as well as with her, Kent purposely urged his horse into a full gallop.
Instead of uttering a plea to slow down, Gainsborough deliberately rankled him by holding on tighter, and then had the audacity to laugh as if he’d just taken her for a ride at an amusement park.
Things went from bad to impossible during the short trip from his parents’ house to his. Impossible for him. Kent didn’t appreciate the fact that her laughter got under his skin, or that the tips of her hair whip around so that they teased his face, making something i
n his belly tighten.
And he sure as hell didn’t care for the fact that he could still taste her mouth on his and that it created a sudden yen within him for sugar-dusted strawberries.
A man with a ranch to oversee just didn’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Dalliances and distractions were all well and good for Hank, or Will or even Quint. His brothers could let their minds wander for a bit without incurring any inconvenient consequences. But if he let his wander, it would throw his timing off. You couldn’t rope a calf if your timing was off. And branding became a real problem if you weren’t focused on it. No, he didn’t have time for this.
Annoyance at the way his own body seemed to be mutinying against him heightened. Kent reined in his horse, purposely coming to an abrupt halt in front of the small single-story ranch house that Will had put so much effort into designing.
Will had tried to create a place that would be a comfortable home for his brother and yet reflect the essence that made him Kent. So the house and the furnishings within were utilitarian without being sparse, strong without being overpowering.
His house.
Kent looked at it as if seeing it for the first time. Trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes. The structure stood proud and alone against the afternoon sun. The house suited him, he thought. Once he’d fancied sharing this place with a certain someone who might have added a few light touches to it, but now that notion was gone.
Just as well. He liked things the way they were. There was no reason for change.
“We’re here,” he announced, swinging one leg in front of him over the saddle horn.
Without a backward glance to see if she was secure, Kent slid off and hit the ground. He left Brianne entirely without support, expecting her to tumble awkwardly off the horse. He wasn’t about to let her hurt herself. He just figured he’d catch her on the way down. The jostling might do her some good. Might even get her brain functioning better than it was now so that she’d give this up, or at least find someone else to hound.
But he was doomed to be disappointed on a lot of scores today. Brianne dismounted the horse as fluidly as if she’d been riding all of her life. As if Amber Whiskey was her horse instead of his.
Cowboys Are For Loving Page 2
