Flynt’s eyebrows had lifted and his eyes had widened in a uh-oh expression.
“It’s not like that. I swear. I’m only going to be around a few more weeks and I’m hoping that’ll be long enough for her to finish her war of rebellion without acquiring any permanent scars.”
Brent leaned back into the water and began a slow backstroke. High in the sky, a hawk circled and then disappeared. Billowy white clouds swirled leisurely about in the big, blue sky. Relaxed and cooling off fast, Brent closed his eyes. Jenna appeared in his thoughts. Jenna wrapped in nothing but a towel, that towel slowly slipping below her breasts. Groaning, Brent opened his eyes. Damn, he had to stop thinking about her as a sexy woman. It wouldn’t do for him to guard her from other men only to wind up taking advantage of her himself.
Just a couple more weeks in Mission Creek, working as a ranch hand, and then he’d be back home in Chicago. Back to the job and life he loved. And back to women who knew the score and didn’t need his protection.
Fiona had told Jenna that Brent had been working with some other hands out in the south pasture, doing fence repair, and that the other guys had already returned to the ranch. That meant Brent was still out there. Alone. She’d waited around for him to return, but after fifteen minutes, she’d gotten impatient and, with Fiona’s urging, had decided to ride out to the south pasture. She’d been searching for any sign of Brent for nearly twenty minutes when she saw his horse tied to a tree. She heard the sound of splashing water before she actually saw Brent frolicking in the pond.
She dismounted and tied Mariah’s reins to the tree next to Mr. Lucky, then turned to call out to Brent. Just as she opened her mouth, Brent rose from the pond, water rippling from his powerful muscles, over his broad shoulders and down his ripcord lean belly. Jenna sucked in her breath. Unaware that he was being watched, Brent stood in the shallow end of the pond, his magnificent body glowing bronze in the late-afternoon sunlight.
He was naked.
Jenna swallowed hard as she watched him, awed by his beauty and by his impressive masculinity. Everything feminine within her reacted to all that overwhelming virility. To her way of thinking, Brent was the perfect male specimen.
This moment was a gift. And unexpected present from fate. And she wasn’t stupid enough to reject a golden opportunity.
“Hey, there, cowboy,” she called. “Mind if I join you?”
Brent turned toward the sound of her voice, and the look of surprise on his face quickly turned to embarrassment. Putting his back to her, he headed for deeper water, then immersed himself and swam several yards away from her.
Once he’d reached a safe level and had stood, only his upper torso visible above the pond’s surface, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came out to the ranch to take you up on your offer.” She removed her hat and tossed it on the ground next to his, then she shucked off her boots and socks.
“You could have just telephoned.”
“I could have, but I preferred seeing you in person. It’s been days and days since I’ve seen you.” Jenna stripped off her blouse and jeans, leaving her in her bra and panties.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Don’t take off anything else,” he told her.
“I can’t skinny-dip with you if I leave on my clothes.”
Jenna unhooked her bra, then did a little striptease, easing the straps down her arms in slow motion.
“Jenna, honey, don’t. Keep your—”
She flung the bra on the pile of clothes.
“Oh, hell,” Brent groaned.
Jenna slipped off her panties, dropped them on the ground and wadded into the pond. Brent closed his eyes. She laughed, knowing what effect her nude body was having on him. Surrounded by the pond’s cool water or not, he wouldn’t be able to control his reaction.
“I thought we’d agreed to be friends,” Brent said, his eyes shut tight.
“We are friends,” she replied. “Who says friends can’t go skinny-dipping together?”
Jenna swam toward Brent. He swam away from her. He made it to the far side of the pond before she caught up with him. With his back to the four large boulders that lined that side of the pond, Brent turned to face her as he treaded water to keep afloat.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Brent said.
“What isn’t a good idea?”
“Don’t play games with me, Jenna. You’re out of your league.”
“Okay. You’re right.” She swam closer. “I want you to take me someplace fun this Friday night and Saturday night. And it’ll be my treat. I know ranch hands don’t make a lot, so—”
“Fine. I’ll pick you up Friday night and you can pay for our night out. And we’ll paint the town red again Saturday night. Now that that’s settled, why don’t you get out of the pond, put your clothes on and ride back to the ranch?”
“I have another question to ask.” She swam over to him, slid her body against his and smiled when he groaned.
“What—what question?”
“Have you heard of the annual Lone Star County Debutante Ball?”
“Can’t say that I have.” He reached out under the water, grabbed her waist and tried to push her away, to put some space between them.
She pressed closer to him, her breasts rubbing his chest, as she bobbed in the water, her face only inches from his. “Well, it’s this big shindig at the country club and I’m one of the debutantes, so I need an escort and I’d like for you—”
“You want me to escort you to your debutante ball?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Jenna, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Yes it is. Besides, it’s something one friend would do for another, isn’t it?”
“When is this ball anyway?”
“May 11.”
“I don’t know. Let me think about it and get back to you.”
“Don’t take too long to think about it.”
Jenna lifted her arms out of the water, flung them around Brent’s neck and laughed just before they sank beneath the surface. Brent grabbed her and brought her up with him, both of them gasping for air.
He shook his head, flinging droplets of water in all directions.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Why don’t you think about it,” she teased. “I’m sure an idea will pop up.”
After shoving her off him, Brent swam away, back toward the shallow end of the pond. Jenna huffed loudly, then followed him. As he rose from the water, she grabbed his arm and before he had time to react, she kissed him. To her delight, he didn’t push her away again. Instead he returned the kiss and kept kissing her until she was breathless, but then he ended the kiss and helped her out of the pond. With rivulets of water cascading off their naked bodies, Brent eased Jenna onto their pile of clothes, then came down over her. She loved the feel of his big, powerful body on top of her and the way he touched her, with such gentle thoroughness.
As pure sensation controlled her body, she wanted to plead with him to make love to her. At this precise moment she realized that she was madly, wildly, completely in love with Brent Jameson.
Suddenly Brent jerked her blouse from the pile of clothing beneath them, flipping her over on her belly in the process. He lifted himself up and off her, then popped her on the hip with her blouse before he tossed it to her.
“Put on your clothes, honey.”
Confusion muddled her thought process. Wasn’t he going to make love to her? She’d been so sure he wouldn’t be able to resist her.
“Brent?” She held open her arms to him.
He reached down, grabbed her hands and lifted her to her feet.
“Let’s get dressed, then we can ride back to the ranch together.”
“But you didn’t…we didn’t…don’t you want to—”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her soundly. “Yes, I want to, but I’m not going
to. Not today. Not this weekend. Not ever.”
“But…but…”
“Take our relationship on my terms or leave it,” he told her. “I can be your friend, your date, your protector, but that’s it. I shouldn’t have touched you today. It won’t happen again.”
Brent picked up the rest of her clothes, handed them to her and then retrieved his own. Jenna dressed hurriedly, a sense of bewilderment fogging her mind. He wanted her, and they both knew it. So, why was it so difficult for him to admit that he loved her?
She wouldn’t consider what had happened today a failure, only a postponement of the inevitable. Time was on her side. With each encounter, their relationship moved to a new level, whether Brent wanted to admit it or not. Who knew what might happen on their Friday night or Saturday night date? He might continue to resist her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to reject her. If she could make slow but steady progress, Brent might even propose by the night of the debutante ball. Wishful thinking on her part? Maybe. But maybe not. Jenna had never wanted anything in life more than she wanted Brent. She refused to allow this minor setback to discourage her.
“I’ll take our relationship on your terms,” she told him. And I promise that I won’t ask you to make love to me ever again. No, Brent, my darling, I’m going to be patient and wait for you to ask me. And she knew that he would.
Chapter 7
Jenna had told Brent that these past ten days had been the most wonderful and exciting time of her life. He had seen her practically every day since he’d rescued her at the Rusty Bucket, and he’d lived up to his word to be her protector. She’d shown up at the ranch several times. Once with a picnic basket and a quilt. He’d taken a great deal of good-natured kidding from the other hands about that. Weekend dates hadn’t been enough to satisfy her, and if he were totally honest with himself, they hadn’t been enough for him either. He had found that Jenna Wilson was addictive. He had even dropped by her apartment for dinner a couple of evenings. Katie and Dana had been conspicuously absent both times.
It wasn’t easy keeping things platonic between them, but whenever he was tempted—which was every time he was with Jenna—he reminded himself that he could withstand temptation just a little while longer. A few days after the debutante ball, he’d be back in Chicago, and Jenna would settle down to her former levelheaded self. At least that was what he hoped. And what Flynt Carson hoped. In the beginning of this rather unusual relationship with Jenna, he’d been able to convince himself that he had appointed himself her guardian as a favor to Flynt, whom he owed for letting him work at the Carson Ranch. But it was becoming more and more difficult to continue lying to himself.
He liked Jenna. Liked her a lot. She was a complex and complicated lady. There was a great deal more to her than the young woman who used all her wiles on him, sometimes trying his patience almost beyond reason. Jenna was not only beautiful, but she was exceptionally bright. And she had a fabulous sense of humor. But what surprised him most was discovering how much they had in common. They shared similar interests in books, music and dozens of little things—everything from their love of hot, Texas chili to their penchant for modern art. And Jenna had dreams for her future, plans for a life away from Mission Creek that her mother did not support. Jenna was as ambitious as he was. One more common bond.
Brent had never met anyone quite like his wild-child debutante. He hadn’t exactly agreed to be her escort to the upcoming ball, but he hadn’t out and out refused her. After all, what would it hurt for him to hang around an extra few days and be her date for the big event? It would make a perfect ending for their relationship. Escorting her to the ball could be his parting gift to her.
Flynt Carson had thanked him for keeping tabs on Jenna, telling him that he took it as a personal favor. He hadn’t admitted to Flynt just how difficult it was to remain nothing more than friends with her. After all, he was only a man, and knowing Jenna was his for the taking created a heck of a lot of mixed emotions in him. On the one hand, he suspected that she fancied herself in love with him, and therefore he didn’t dare lead her on by making love to her. But on the other hand, what if when he left town, she turned to some other guy on the rebound and this guy was a real sleazeball?
Tonight they had driven to Laredo, then crossed the border into Mexico and found a cantina with a reputation as the wildest, hottest spot anywhere in and around South Texas. They had danced and caroused and drank margaritas, all the while soaking up the local color. Two fistfights had taken place in the parking lot and one inside the La Casa Rojo. Drug addicts making purchases seemed unconcerned about being caught. One couple had sex in a darkened corner, as if anyone passing nearby couldn’t see what they were doing. Several prostitutes picked up clients in the bar and took them upstairs to the rooms over the roadhouse.
What had promised to be just one more weekend exploration into the unknown for Jenna had turned into exposure to a world far darker and more dangerous than she’d expected. Brent sensed how uncomfortable she was now—now that the adrenalin rush of excitement had worn off and reality had set in.
“Had enough of this place?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it? A lot worse than the Saddlebag Bar or the Rusty Bucket.”
Brent paid their bill, then guided Jenna through the crowd of sweaty drunks and glassy-eyed junkies, keeping his arm firmly and protectively around her. He wasn’t armed; didn’t usually carry a weapon on him. But right now, he wished he had a gun. There was a rifle in the truck, but the truck was outside in the parking lot. He’d been crazy to have stayed here for a couple of hours. The minute he walked into this joint and saw what it was all about, he should have taken Jenna away.
Two smiling Mexican youths blocked the exit. Damn! Brent cursed under his breath and silently called himself a fool. The two leered at Jenna, then said something graphic in Spanish. Brent knew just enough of the language to understand their words had been insultingly sexual. Brent tightened his hold on Jenna and stared menacingly at the two guys, hoping his superior height and age might intimidate them just enough so that he could get Jenna past them. Their smiles vanished, but they didn’t budge. Brent thought about what he was going to say, translating from English to Spanish in his mind, then he told them exactly what he’d do to them if they didn’t allow the lady and him to pass without any trouble. He might have butchered the language, but he got his point across—he would kill to protect the lady or die trying.
First one and then the other man slid away from the exit. Brent rushed Jenna outside before he released a relieved breath.
“Come on, honey, let’s go to the truck and get the hell out of here.”
“That was scary.” Jenna clung to Brent as they ran across the dimly lit parking lot. “What did you say to them to make them back down the way they did?”
“You don’t want to know.”
A loud clap of thunder rumbled in the distance and faraway lighting streaked the eastern sky. A springtime thunderstorm, Brent thought. And since they were going back to Mission Creek through Laredo, they’d be heading straight into the storm.
Brent helped her into the truck, then got in, started the engine and raced out of the parking lot and onto the road. Jenna slid across the seat until she was at his side, then she cuddled up against him, her hands clutching his arm.
“Do you think you’ve had enough of wild and wooly roadhouses?” Brent asked.
Jenna shuddered. “I think so. I had no idea places like that existed. I thought the Rusty Bucket was bad. Just goes to show I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”
“We’ve got a long ride back to Mission Creek. Why don’t you put your head on my shoulder and take a nap?”
She kissed Brent’s cheek. “You’re wonderful. You know that, don’t you?”
“You’re pretty wonderful yourself.” He spread out his right arm to encompass her shoulders, then pulled her closer.
She laid her head against him, shut her eyes an
d sighed.
A long, dark stretch of road spread out before them. And the farther east they went, the worse the thunder and lightning. Less than twenty-five miles on the other side of Laredo, the bottom dropped out. The rain came down in heavy sheets, obscuring Brent’s vision. The howling wind bombarded the old truck, making it difficult for him to keep the vehicle on the road. Lightning danced all around them, thick, heavy bolts of electricity streaking the black sky and striking the earth indiscriminately.
A deafening clap of thunder roused Jenna from her nap. “My heavens! I can’t see anything out the windshield, can you?”
“Not much,” Brent admitted. “That’s why I’ve slowed down to a crawl.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Not long. Five minutes or so. If it doesn’t let up soon, I may have to pull off to the side of the road.”
“Maybe it’s just a pop-up shower.” Another terrifying streak of lightning hit the earth close by. Jenna gasped.
“Check the radio. See if you can get a weather report for us.”
She turned on the radio and scanned through the stations. Static mangled the transmissions, making it difficult to understand what was being said. A word here and there. Storm. Caution. Warning. Take cover. She kept turning the knob, trying to find just one station without static. Finally, she returned to the station that came through a bit clearer than the others. The best she could make out a gully-washer was in progress, with heavy rain, a severe thunderstorm and possible hail.
“I don’t think it’s going to clear up any time soon,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m afraid you’re right.” Brent slowed the truck from thirty-five miles an hour to twenty-five. The windshield wipers click-clacked back and forth, but fought a losing battle with the rain. “I wish we could find a place to pull in. I know we passed several gas stations and a couple of minimarts coming this way. But I have no idea exactly where we are.”
Up ahead a flashing light appeared through the thick sheet of rain. At this distance Brent couldn’t tell where the lights were coming from, but they seemed to be to the left of the road. Let it be a 24-hour service station or a cafe, he prayed. Someplace they could pull in, get out of the truck and stay for a few hours until the storm moved on.
Lone Star Country Club: The Debutantes Page 8
