by Jade Allen
He had fallen for her, he realized. It didn’t even make sense since he hadn’t gotten to know a lot about her, but he felt strongly attached to her. Before he was even aware of moving, he was standing in her path.
He saw her green eyes narrow with a flash of intense hatred and he knew genuine sorrow.
“You sing very well,” he said. “You have an amazing voice.”
Leila didn’t say anything, just regarded him in wary silence. What more does this jackass want from me? she wondered.
“I’m sorry,” he got out before she could escape him. “I’m a monster. I feel sick about this situation, and I haven’t eaten in days. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Leila.”
Cold anger darkened her eyes and he realized he was digging his hole deeper.
“Leila—” he began.
Without a word, she yanked her arm from his grasp and melted into the crowd.
Jason bowed his head in defeat, but this time, he didn’t try to stop her. He let her go.
The fair had opened up into a party of sorts with dancing and drinking going on. Rock and rolled strummed from the speakers as different cowboys shuffled with their partners on the dance floor.
Jason sipped his beer, sitting in a corner of the room as his eyes scanned the crowd for signs of Leila’s leopard skin dress.
He heard a throaty laughter and looked in that direction; Leila was being twirled about by one brawny cowboy with his hat pulled low over his forehead as he dimpled down at her. They look so perfect together, he thought feeling something suspiciously like jealousy eat away at his insides.
He watched as Leila’s laughter turned into girly giggles as the wonder-cowboy bent her backwards over his strong arm. Impatience strummed along Jason’s veins and in a flash, he was beside the laughing couple. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched Leila’s happy smile dry on her face as she caught sight of him.
“Mind if I cut in?” he said gruffly, his eyes daring the other man to challenge him.
“As a matter of fact I do!” Leila spat.
Jason grinned at her. “I was talking to the man darlin’. Jesse?” he asked.
Jesse Catalona grinned and quickly released Leila into Jason’s arms.
“That’s not even remotely funny,” she growled.
“Tell me about it. How did you manage to keep your toes intact? Catalona is notorious for having two left feet!”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her eyes flashing fire at him as she stiffened in his arms. “I like Jesse!”
“As do half the gay men in Texas! He’s gay,” Jason lied baldly.
He watched the confused expressions play across Leila’s features and he hid a grin. Jesse, who also happened to be a good friend of his, would skin him alive if this got back to him. Jesse was straight, and unless Jason missed his guess, was as interested in Leila as he was.
“You have an amazing voice,” he told her softly.
“Thanks,” she muttered, ducking her head as she hid a blush. Her eyes sparkled at him, lively and vibrant.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.
His head descended slowly and his mouth melded with hers. Passion sparked immediately and with a groan that was part-triumph, part-longing; Jason deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked hers, sending shivers of excitement down her spine, and without thinking, Leila arched into him, her breasts shoving against the hard wall of his chest.
Jason’s hands tightened around Leila’s waist and the feel of his wide palm caressing her ass drew her back to Earth with a thud. She jerked out of his arms and glared at him as she furiously rubbed the back of her hand across her lips.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she spat, her eyes glittering angrily at him.
She spun around, and for the second time that night, melted into the crowd.
****
Leila whistled to herself as she strolled towards her new hotel after the rodeo activities two days later. Jason had performed so badly again that some people had actually accused him of deliberately throwing the match. She had learned so much about the cowboys just sitting in the stands and her ears were still ringing with tales of his sexual conquests, financial triumphs and saddle skills. Evidently, he had been a playboy extraordinaire for years and no one was surprised to see him with two women at a time. He was even more popular in cowboy circles because he was a bronc-riding champion ten years in a row.
Well, what most of those people didn’t know was that he was a jerk and a heartless libertine. She had learned that lesson firsthand. He’d been sending a dozen roses to her place of work every day for the last two days. She had blushed mightily when the first set was delivered, drawing whistles and calls from everyone in the bar. But the second night, one look at the roses and she had stolen outside to weep silently, her anguish rocking her body. She loved him, she knew; but that also meant he had the power to hurt her.
A prickling sensation at the back of her neck made her pause in her strides but when she turned around, the hallway was empty. She needed to freshen up quickly and rush downstairs to perform. Being a country singer certainly had its perks—for instance, it put food on her table—but when she was depressed, singing was the last thing she wanted to do. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and sob her heart out.
“Sobbing doesn’t pay the bills, honey,” she murmured to herself as she hurriedly shrugged out of her tattered jeans and tee-shirt and slipped into a slinky black dress that hugged her body like a second skin and heavily pronounced all her curves.
Leila bit her lips as she turned this way and that in front of the mirror. It was a decent enough dress, but was it too revealing?
A harsh knock sounded at the door and she rolled her eyes. The manager at this hotel was a royal pain in the ass, and he seemed to think that she was supposed to be the very first person to arrive for the performance.
“Leila,” the unsmiling man on the other side breathed the moment she opened the door.
“Jason! How the hell did you find me?” she grated, her heart clutching painfully in her chest as she glared at him.
Was it her imagination, or was he somewhat thinner than she remembered?
“I just wanted to explain what happened. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more.”
Leila glared back at him, “Good for you. Now get out!”
“I didn’t forget that night. I knew something good and profound had happened I was just fuzzy on the details.”
Just like that, her anger returned. Her eyes glittered at him as she pouted, “You couldn’t remember we slept together! It’s in the past. No need to rehash that now.”
She turned her head away, waiting for him to walk out of the room and out of her life. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears glistening in her eyes.
“What I mean is, I took a lot of booze and then you must have given me aspirin at some point—”
“I gave you aspirin for the bump on your head,” she said defensively, leaning back to put some much-needed space between them. “Now you’re going to hold onto that?”
His turquoise gaze slanted over her smooth features, her sad eyes, her pouty mouth and he felt his heart tighten in his chest.
“Give me another chance Leila,” he said softly. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. That was the first night I slept peacefully without any nightmares.”
Leila chewed at her lips. He looked honest enough that she wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t let go of something that was eating away at her.
“Who the hell is Fiona?”
Unbearable sadness crossed his features, and then he said, “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this somewhere else? Like over lunch?”
“No. Here!” she insisted with childish petulance.
He grinned. She was as cute as a button.
“Fiona was my wife who ran off with my best friend and got killed in a freak accident as they drove off.” He waited to feel the familiar pain in his
chest, but all he felt was just a hollow sadness at two lives wasted and nothing more. No bitterness; nothing.
He looked at her, “I was bitter for a long while. Hell, I was bitter until I met you. But somehow you healed me. You are good, pure, smart, funny and sexy as hell.”
Leila blushed. “Oh stop. I’m fat.”
“You’ve got a body that could tempt a eunuch and make a monk stare; and I love you just the way you are. You are the sexiest, most beautiful woman alive.”
Leila stared into his eyes; sincerity blazed back at her. He loves me? How?
Jason seemed to read her mind because he said softly, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Is it any wonder that I love you?”
Leila’s reservations melted away, as she leaned into him and lifted her face for his kiss.
That was all the encouragement Jason needed. With a rough hungry sound, he tumbled her onto the bed and rolled her onto her back, easily fitting his slender hips between her legs. Leila inhaled sharply at the feel of his hard masculine length against her. Their hands jointly made quick work of their clothes and they were naked in each other’s arms in record time.
Then she instinctively pushed her breasts into his face, wanting to feel that exquisite sucking he did so well. Jason obliged immediately, his lips licking and flicking over her nipple.
Frenzied need pulsed through Leila as Jason’s callused palms caressed every inch of her satiny skin in a mixture of wonder and desire. She writhed against him as craving roared through her before pooling in her moist center.
Leila cradled his head, holding him tighter against her breasts as she pleaded, “Fuck me now, Jason!”
That was all the encouragement Jason needed as he thrust into her in one sure masterful stroke that joined them perfectly and sheathed him to the hilt.
“I love you,” he murmured, his blue eyes clashing with her green ones.
Leila grinned at him, her heart bursting with happiness as she said the words he longed to hear, “I love you too, Jason. Always and forever.”
THE END
Drilled By The Billionaire Cowboy
Brooke Jordan swore softly as she stubbed her toe against a loose piece of rock lying beside her car. This was an assignment from hell and if she hadn’t talked smart to her boss last week, she knew she wouldn’t now be traipsing through some backwater ranch in six-inch heels and city clothes that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the vast collection of jeans, cowboy hats and boots milling around.
She couldn’t help it though; Henry Collins rubbed her the wrong way. He was the new editor-in-chief at De Luxe Magazine and he seemed to think he was God’s gift to women. If the rumors were true, he had already slept his way through half the bullpen staff in less than two weeks which was quite a feat when one considered that there had to be at least thirty women in the bullpen of the large office in New York.
He had never made any overture to her--which was too damn bad because she would have slammed him with a sexual harassment suit so fast it would make his ancestors dizzy--but he had shown a decided penchant for verbally filleting her in front of her colleagues instead. She had borne his unfair put-downs as long as she could until one day when she had decided she’d had enough; she informed him, in full view of everyone, that she thought he was a ‘chauvinistic Neanderthal who didn’t have the good taste to appreciate talent.’
Henry had been cool to the point of being almost arctic when he had calmly informed her that she had just bought herself two weeks on a farm as appreciation of all her ‘talent’. She had called his bluff and now here she was! She was supposed to interview Tyler Harding and also stick close to the man for a minimum of two weeks to make certain she had gotten enough materials to complete the article De Luxe Magazine was doing on “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015”.
Brooke whistled now, low and long under her breath as she took in the opulence of her surroundings. She had known Tyler Harding was one of the few billionaires around but she hadn’t really appreciated how rich he was until she was looking at the evidence of his wealth up close and personal. The ‘ranch’ had to be the size of at least 50 golf courses with a huge sprawling mansion sitting at the end of the drive. Tyler was the debonair head of the ‘Oil Hardings’, a family known for owning just about half of Texas. They were so wealthy, it was rumored their wealth rivaled that of one-third of the world’s countries put together. Orchids and some very expensive looking flowers lined the driveway, circled the fountain and ended up inches from the door.
Wealth screamed from every inch of the mansion and the surrounding premises; cowboys strode in and out of out-buildings which she assumed were stables or something.
“Mr. Harding?” she said, grabbing the arm of one surly-looking cowboy as he strode past her.
“Best check the stables,” he grunted shortly before continuing on his way.
Brooke blinked. He hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries; so much for Southern hospitality, she thought. She pursed her lips as she walked. At five-eight she was considered tall for a lady. She had ash-blonde hair that someone once said made her look like a porcelain doll with large green eyes and full red lips. She was beautiful, with an hour-glass figure that made her the recipient of many a male's attention--like now. But perhaps she should not have worn the six inch heels currently digging into every inch of loamy soil spread around the stables.
As she traipsed towards the stables, trying valiantly to walk in heels that kept digging into the soil beneath her feet, a little yip drew her attention to the animal racing towards her and she did a double-take. Was that a wolf?
Horror skittered down her spine as she turned and ran the rest of the way into the stables, shrieking like a banshee from hell. She saw two men raise their heads in surprise to look up at her and, without stopping to think about it, Brooke flung herself straight into the arms of the taller man and wound her legs around his hips, safely out of reach of the animal.
“Who the hell are you?” the shorter man grated.
“It’s alright, Roy. It’s not every day a beautiful woman climbs right up my legs and into my arms,” the other man laughed good-naturedly.
Brooke didn’t have time to be embarrassed; she clung tighter to him, plastering her breasts against his chest as her eyes fearfully flew over her shoulders to the wolf. It wasn’t snarling anymore though, instead it was rubbing up against the legs of her ‘savior’ and almost purring.
What the hell?
“Isn’t that a wolf?” Brooke asked, her voice a little more than a petrified squeak.
The man chuckled as he gently unwound her long legs from around his narrow hips and urged her to her feet, “Shelby would be flattered. She’s a dog, not a wolf. She’s also a bully though; she sensed your fear which was why she chased after you.”
Brooke stared disbelievingly as the tall man stooped down to caress Shelby. She shifted, keeping as far out of reach of all that fur as she could. The ‘dog’ had to be at least part-wolf!
“I need to find Mr. Harding,” Brooke said.
“You've found him already, ma'am” the man quipped, looking over his shoulder and blasting her with the full force of his languorous dark eyes.
Brooke stared, her heart skipping a beat as she got her first good look at the man Collins had described as an ornery and eccentric oil tycoon. He had to be the most handsome man this side of the sun! He had a strong chiseled jaw, sexily tousled black hair, intense black eyes and sex appeal out the wazoo. If that wasn’t enough, he also happened to have deep slashing dimples in either cheek, so prominent they were on display whenever he moved his lips. His skin glistened with sweat from his work in the barn and his muscles bunched with every movement, revealing hard, sinewy strength, and a beautifully chiseled stomach. He was insanely hot and more than a little dangerous to any woman; worse, she suspected he knew it.
She swallowed. Dear lord, how was she supposed to get through two weeks beside this man?
****
“Si
t down Ms. Jordan and let me know exactly what you need from me,” Tyler ordered a few minutes later as he led Brooke into what she immediately saw was his study.
His dark eyes clung to the womanly curves of her hips. She was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman and seemed completely unaware of her effect on men, himself included. Why, Roy had been unable to close his mouth the entire time they stood in the stables, which was why he had decided to take the meeting into his study before the other man embarrassed himself.
He himself had been tamping down his arousal ever since she had swept into the stable like a whirlwind and plastered herself all over him. He had felt every inch of her soft, pliant body and he had been hard as a rock before he had so much as gotten a good look at her face.
Innocently unaware of Tyler’s scrutiny, Brooke scanned the room, her experienced eyes immediately recognizing the perfect finish of the imposing Henkel Harris desk gracing one end of the room with an equally imposing chair planted behind it. Her heels sank into the thick Aubusson rug in the middle of the room as she deliberately crossed to slouch gratefully into the cushion beside the coffee table instead of the seat he had indicated in front of his desk. Several paintings lined the walls and she didn’t have to be an expert to know they were originals.
His black eyes tracked her progress, and when she looked up deliberately into his eyes, she was surprised to see a look of reluctant respect in his gaze.
“Mr. Harding, I have a lot of questions for you. I hope you have ample time because this could take quite a few hours,” she added.
“I thought you were supposed to be here for two weeks?” he asked, watching her intently, his gaze roving over her features as he lowered himself into the seat.
Brooke mentally rolled her eyes. “Yes, but if we can cover a lot of ground today, we’ll get rolling.”
He stared at her for a beat, then shrugged as he leaned back in his seat.
