by Jeanne Allan
She swung her legs around to cross his and slid down the sofa’s arm, coming to rest on his lap. “I know you did.” She started to loosen his tie. “Every time I see you in a tie, I want to do this.”
Thomas grabbed her hands. Her perfume constricted his breathing. “Do what? Take off my tie?”
“Yes.” She smiled into his eyes. “And then, I’m going to kiss you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“KISS me?” he repeated blankly. “Why?”
Cheyenne almost laughed at the look on his face. She suspected it took a lot to throw Thomas off balance. “Because you’re so kissable.” Shrugging off his hand, she finished unknotting his tie.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m kissable?”
“Yes.” She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “I tried to think of some way to subtly encourage you to kiss me tonight, but I’m afraid I’m not too good at subtlety, so I’m telling you straight out. You don’t mind, do you?” She liked the warm, hard feel of his thighs under her.
“What if I did?”
Cheyenne concentrated on curling one end of his tie around her finger. “If you’re not interested, I won’t insist.”
“Thank you. I feel better knowing I won’t have to fight you off. Or fight your brother because I insulted you by refusing to kiss you.”
He’d recovered his equilibrium and had decided to be amused. She gave him a beneath-the-lashes look. “I suppose women want to kiss you all the time.” She wanted to scratch those women’s eyes out. They couldn’t possibly understand Thomas as she did. Whether he admitted it or not. “It’s not nice to make fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you.”
“You are. You know very well Worth is more likely to congratulate you on your good sense than fight you if you refuse to kiss me.”
Thomas smiled, but said only, “We could continue this discussion in the bedroom.”
Cheyenne sat very still and looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t want to mislead you, Thomas. It’s not that kind of kiss.” The refusal came surprisingly hard.
“I wasn’t aware there are categories of kisses.”
She knew that. Framing his face with her hands, she said, “You know a lot of things, Thomas, but what you don’t know about love and kisses would fill a million encyclopedias.”
He stiffened. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what kind of kiss you have in mind,” he said levelly. “I won’t be bribed into taking Davy on as my responsibility.”
“Give me a little credit. I know I don’t have what it takes to persuade men into doing something they don’t want to do. My brother and sisters have told me often enough that I’m too tall, all arms and legs, have a mop of frizzy, dishwater blond hair and my eyes are the color of bread mold.” She smoothed out his wrinkled tie. “And I’m a little bossy.”
“You’re a lot bossy.”
“Never mind that now.” She slid his tie back and forth beneath his starched collar. “I like you. I didn’t at first, and I never thought I would, but I do. I like how polite you are to your mother despite her behavior, and I like the good things your employees say about you. They idolize you. I’m glad you don’t lay off the employees of a hotel you buy and I’m glad you defend your father.” She laid a finger across his lips. “Okay, I snooped.”
“Why?”
“Davy.”
“Did you think you could find something to blackmail me into taking him?”
The question made her smile. “Thomas, if you had secrets which I could use to blackmail you, you’d hardly be the person I’d want caring for Davy.”
“I’m not the person you want taking care of Davy.”
He didn’t get it. “I like the way you talk to Davy instead of down to him. I like the way you bought him a razor and took out the blade so he can shave with you every morning. I like—”
“Grilling my employees is bad enough. Grilling my nephew is unconscionable,” Thomas said coldly, attempting to shift her from his lap.
Cheyenne locked her hands behind his neck. “You don’t know much about children, Thomas. They love to talk and they love to be listened to. Heaven knows what Davy has said about me.”
After a second Thomas’s body relaxed. “He said you hate peanut butter, but I made you so mad, wild horses couldn’t make you tell me.”
“The little snitch. What else?”
“You think I’m the handsomest man you’ve ever seen and you’d pay a king’s ransom to hop into bed with me.”
“I never—” Her indignation fled before the laughter in his eyes. “You made that up.”
“It’s better than a beautiful woman wanting to kiss me because I treat my nephew decently.”
“I don’t want to kiss you because you treat Davy decently.” She trailed her fingers up his chest. “I want to kiss you because you’re the type of man who treats his nephew decently.”
Thomas exhaled impatiently. “Then quit babbling and do it.”
“You don’t have to shout. I will.” Her mouth almost touching his, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes—” he grabbed her face and pulled her mouth to his “—but you talk too much.”
Thomas cradled her face in his hands and molded her mouth to his. Cheyenne’s entire body warmed and hummed. An exotic kind of electricity zinged through her, swelling her breasts and tingling deep in her stomach. Pleasure and need mingled until she no longer knew one from the other. She only knew she wanted more. Curving her arms tighter around his neck, she parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He tasted of cognac. He tasted male. Thomas male.
She slid her hands beneath his jacket, enjoying the feel of his silky shirt beneath her roaming fingertips. His body heat penetrated the fabric to warm the palms of her hands. His skin would feel silkier. The third button gave her mouble. Grabbing the edges of the shirt, she yanked them apart. Thomas gave a smothered laugh as the recalcitrant button went flying.
Cheyenne spread her fingers wide, loving the heat of him beneath her palms. His heart beat strongly, steadily. She moved her hands, her fingertips lightly grazing the smooth skin stretched tightly over flesh and sinew.
Touching him wasn’t enough. Breaking off the kiss, she ignored his muttered protest and pressed her mouth to the middle of his chest. His skin burned her lips.
Suddenly she had an urge to do something she’d never ever had an urge to do. Her mouth closed over Thomas’s right nipple. He sucked in air, his fingers clamping down on her shoulders, his thumbs meeting at the base of her throat. His heartbeat speeded up. Or maybe it was her heart thudding in her ears. A spicy odor clung to him, half soap and half male. Her tongue curved over the tiny, hard nipple. Tangy, a little salty. She’d never realized what an aphrodisiac a man’s nipple could be.
“Do we get to take turns?” Thomas asked in a slightly thickened voice.
Cheyenne froze as reason returned. Somehow she’d come to be half lying on the sofa. If it weren’t for Thomas’s arms, she’d tumble to the ground. Carefully she buttoned his shirt. “I’ll find the button and sew it on, if you have a needle and thread.”
“I don’t.”
“I’ sorry.”
“Forget it,” he said impatiently. “I have dozens of shirts.”
She gave him a smoldering look. “I wasn’t apologizing about that. I wouldn’t have ripped it off if the button had come out of the buttonhole, but it wouldn’t, which wasn’t my fault, so naturally I had to grab it, but—”
He cut off her explanation. “What are you apologizing for?”
“For being selfish. I was so intent on my own pleasure, I didn’t think. I’m sorry”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re apologizing because you played with my nipple and you won’t let me play with yours?”
It sounded worse put into words. “I only meant to kiss you. On the mouth, I mean. I don’t know what got into me.”
“My nipple for one thing,”
he snarled.
She knew exactly why he was as testy as a stallion penned away from the mares. “All right.” Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne turned her back to him. “Fair’s fair. Unzip.”
“Just like that.”
“But no more than I did.”
“You are the world’s most infuriating woman.” Thomas stood, dumping Cheyenne.
Fortunately she landed on the sofa. Sitting up, she pulled her dress over her legs. It hadn’t seemed so short earlier in the evening. “You’re mad because you think I’m a tease.”
“Let’s say I’m confused.” Thomas raked his fingers through his hair.
“I wanted to kiss you because I like you and because I heard so many good things about you today. I also wanted to kiss you because I don’t think you got your share of kisses while you were growing up. And I admit I enjoyed it when you kissed me the other morning.” She pulled down on her skirt again. “That kiss wasn’t like this.”
Thomas leaned against the wall across the room. “Like what?”
Meaning it hadn’t been like anything for him. Cheyenne swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “Like throwing starter fluid on a barbecue grill that’s already burning. You know, whoosh. An incendiary explosion.”
“Let me get this straight. You kissed me because you felt sorry for me and got more than you bargained for.”
“Yes. Well, no, not about the feeling sorry for you part, because I don’t feel sorry for you.” She tucked her legs beneath her and pulled a couple of throw pillows over her exposed thighs. “Thank you for letting me, you know, play. It was very nice”
“Very nice,” he repeated in a strangled voice.
“I know it didn’t do as much for you. That’s why I thought I ought to offer to let you...” Her voice trailed off at the glowering look he shot her.
“What it did for me,” he said in an ominously quiet voice, “was make me want to rip off every stitch on your body so I can make mad passionate love to you all night long.”
It took her a few seconds to control her breathing. “Me, too,” she finally said. “Go ahead and say you told me so.”
“Am I stupid or are you speaking a foreign language?”
“You told me we had this physical attraction between us, and I didn’t take you seriously. You were right.” She managed an embarrassed smile. “One kiss and we want to fall into bed.”
“I get the feeling that’s not going to happen.”
She stared fixedly at his left ear. “It’s not that I don’t want you to rip off my clothes, because I do, and I know how frustrated you must be, but you’re the one who’s always going on about what a mistake it would be. And you’re right. It wouldn’t mean anything other than purely physical gratification. Someday, Thomas, you’ll find a woman you’ll love and you’ll have children and you’ll be glad we didn’t get carried away.”
“I’ll be glad or you’ll be glad?” he asked coolly.
“It may take a while before I’m glad,” she admitted. “I never realized how powerful chemistry can be. I mean, why you? There’s plenty of sexy-looking cowboys and rich playboys and well-built athletes playing around Aspen. Why do you churn my insides?”
“I don’t believe I’ve had this conversation with another woman.”
“I like you. Thomas. I like Davy. I’d like to know how he gets on. I’d like us to keep in contact, to stay friends. Meaningless sex would get in the way of that.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re trying to spare my feelings, aren’t you? Telling little white lies. When did you plan this little charade? At dinner or while we were riding around the city?”
“You think I deliberately seduced you and then refused to go to bed with you? Why would I do that?”
“To spare my feelings.”
“You’re the one talking a foreign language.”
“I told you from the start I can’t love. You didn’t believe me, until you met my mother. Now you see me as some kind of emotional cripple, and you want nothing to do with me. You want a man who knows how to love. Who is capable of love. What a fertile brain you have to come up with such a complicated plan. Pretend you’re dying to ravish me and dying to have me ravish you, only you have to take the high road for my sake. It’s a total fabrication. Congratulations. I almost believed you.”
No one but Thomas could reach such an incredible conclusion. “Steele is the perfect name for you.” Cheyenne could think of only one way to convince him he was wrong. - Kicking off her shoes, she jumped to her feet, ignoring the pillows flying every which way. “It’s not your heart that’s encased in steel, it’s your brain.” She reached for her zipper and yanked on it. “Come help me. My zipper’s stuck.”
Thomas stood riveted to the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”
How obtuse could a man be? “I’m trying to take off my dress so we can spend the night ravishing each other.”
Thomas absently lathered his beard. He’d definitely wanted to take her to bed. Why he hadn’t taken Cheyenne Lassiter up on her offer would remain one of the world’s unanswered questions. He’d yelled at her to leave her clothes on and phoned Johnny. After waiting endlessly for the car, Thomas had unceremoniously bundled Cheyenne into it and sent her back to the hotel. Alone. Then cursed himself the rest of the night.
He’d arranged for her to visit the office without him, and she’d been subdued on their flight back to Colorado. She hadn’t alluded to the previous night. He was damned if he’d mention it. The past two days she’d picked up Davy in the morning and delivered him back at night. If she spoke to Thomas, her conversations were confined to the merest polite commonplaces. The weather. What she and Davy planned to do.
Which was how he wanted it.
A woman like Cheyenne deserved a better man than he.
Finally realizing that, she wasted no time flirting with Thomas, inviting him to join them, messing with his tie.
She said not another word about wanting to kiss him.
Exactly how he wanted it.
Unable to love her, he’d drag her down, take the bounce out of her step. Out of her hair.
She couldn’t say he’d ever been less than honest with her.
“Cheyenne tells lies.”
Thomas looked in surprise at the seven-year-old face sharing the mirror. He’d have preferred a little dishonesty in New York if that would have propelled her into his bed. “Why do you say that?”
“Allie said. Cheyenne tells lies about people. She says they’re good when they’re really bad.”
Apparently Thomas wasn’t the only one to disapprove of Cheyenne’s starry-eyed, unrealistic attitude. After thirty-some hours in the bosom of the Lassiter family, Davy would be a gold mine of information. Thomas eyed Davy’s innocent face and debated mining his nephew for nuggets of information about Cheyenne. “I don’t think Allie meant Cheyenne actually lies.”
“Uh-huh. She said Cheyenne lies to herself really bad. How can you lie to yourself, Uncle Thomas?”
Using Davy wasn’t playing fair. He’d answer Davy’s question in a way which would turn his nephew’s attention to something else. “Lots of people lie to themselves. They want something to be a certain way so badly, they lie and say it is that way. Take your father.” Mentioning David wasn’t so difficult after all. “He wanted a pet so badly, one day he convinced himself if he showed up at the hotel with a puppy, your grandmother would let him keep it.” Thomas had been unable to convince him otherwise. Or adequately console David when the inevitable happened.
“Did she let him?”
“No.”
“I didn’t know my father wanted a dog.”
“Every mutt in the neighborhood followed David around.” Thomas smiled at the memory. “He was crazy about dogs.”
“Me, too. I’m just like him.” Davy beamed at his uncle.
“Just like,” Thomas said, wiping the suddenly blurry mirror.
Davy concentrated on removing his lather for almost five se
conds before asking, “Did you know Cheyenne’s father is in Heaven, too?”
“I knew he died. How did you know?”
“Greeley told me.” Davy gave Thomas a sideways glance in the mirror. “I told her my father was cool. She said I was lucky. She didn’t like her father. She said he was like a—a—one of them fancy cars. Looks good but you can’t count on it. Greeley is funny, isn’t she?”
Greeley apparently saw her father more clearly than Cheyenne did. “I don’t know her very well,” Thomas said.
“She’s a hugger like Cheyenne and Allie. Mary—that’s their mom—she told me to call her Mary. She’s the worst hugger. She’s always hugging. I asked Worth if all that hugging made him sick, but he said he liked it. I told him you and me don’t like hugging. He said that was okay. Some guys like it and some guys don’t. He said I could tell them not to hug me, but—” Davy shrugged “—I don’t want to make ’em feel bad.”
“What made you say I don’t like hugging?”
“You and me never hug.”
Thomas pressed a warm, damp towel against his face. Hugging didn’t run in the Steele family. David hadn’t understood that at first, As a little tyke he was always hugging Thomas and wanting to be hugged back. He’d outgrown the habit Thomas wouldn’t admit it to a soul, but in weak moments, he’d missed those hugs. He wondered if David had hugged his wife. What had Cheyenne said her name was? Janie. “Your mother’s name was Janie,” he said abruptly. “When we get back to New York we’ll talk to Edward. He knew your mother. He can tell us about her.”
“You think he has a picture? So I can see what she looked like. I’ll bet she was pretty. Like Cheyenne.”
“I’ll bet she was.” Very pretty to catch David’s eye. Except David had known plenty of pretty girls. Thomas wondered how Janie had attracted his brother. David hadn’t come from the usual Steele mold. He’d been kind, generous, impulsive.
A follower. Until he’d met Janie, the person he’d followed most often had been Thomas. Thomas stared into the mirror. David had thought Thomas could do no wrong. If his older brother said a thing was so, it was so. David had come to Thomas for advice on school, on friends, on girls.
