If he’d been bewildered by her before, he looked totally dumbfounded now.
Dani reached for his belt buckle. “Let’s do it out here.”
“On a bench?”
Wow. She wasn’t sure they were ever going to have make-up sex at this rate.
“Yes, on a bench,” she said. “Other people have done it in stranger places. The most exotic we’ve ever gotten was in your truck once.”
“Maybe I’ll order up some kinky equipment for a dungeon when we get back home,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice.
She’d stung him, had basically called their sex vanilla.
But making love with him had always been fulfilling. She just wanted...
More?
But what kind of more?
A thought sliced into her: was she pushing him away before it could happen years on down the road?
No. That wasn’t it at all.
Shoving aside those thoughts, she sought out physical answers, guiding Riley firmly to that bench, bowling him over.
He grumbled her name, giving in as her breasts spilled out of that half-corset.
As he kissed her fervently, cupping her, circling her nipples and making her squirm on his lap, she thought she heard the music from the bunkhouses cut off, leaving only the memory of notes in her head.
But it was the present that mattered, because this was what she wanted from Riley—recklessness, passion, the wildness of doing it anywhere they wanted just because they could.
Did good girls like the old Dani have sex in the open like this? Nope. Did goody-goody home ec majors who had a perfect home life wear wicked bras and undies with slits in the crotch?
Now they did.
Just as Riley was unzipping her skirt, she heard a shout from near the bunkhouses, and he abruptly stopped kissing her, closing her sweater.
Was it a ranch hand who’d come out for a ramble around the property and a smoke?
“Dammit,” he said. “No arguments now, Dani. I’m getting you out of here.”
“Riley.” She put all her weight on him, emphasizing that she didn’t want to go anywhere.
Her pulse was running too hard, her belly too knotted with desire. She wanted Riley to want it as much as she did.
As another shout in the distance turned into laughter, she realized that some of the ranch hands were probably yipping it up outside their quarters, drinking beer, socializing. Their laughter floated on the night, making it seem as if they were closer than they really were.
“Let’s do it,” she said, pulling at his shirt. “Who cares if someone sees?”
He looked at her as if he really didn’t recognize her now, and she knew what he had to be asking himself.
Despite what she’d told him, did she want more from this relationship than they had?
Carefully, he began to button her sweater, his mouth set in a grim line.
He was angry with her again.
“The girl I used to know,” Riley said, “would’ve had more pride in herself than that.”
He took her by the hips, setting her on her feet.
Her body still thudding with need, she turned on her heel, leaving the gazebo. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was mad at him, or if she was just mortified.
“Dani!” he shouted.
But she wasn’t even sure she recognized herself by name.
* * *
MARGOT WAS UP much earlier than usual the next morning.
She’d crept out of Clint’s bed just as soon as the sun had eased through his curtains. Thinking that she ought to be in her room before Riley and Dani discovered otherwise, she’d made her way over the floorboards to her discarded clothing. Then, after she was dressed, she was out his door.
Just her luck, though—Riley was already up.
And he was coming out of what she thought had been an unused guest room.
She froze when he saw her, then decided that there was no way out of this one.
“You got me,” she whispered in an oh-well tone.
Riley grinned at her, but there was a melancholy slant to it.
She’d joined him downstairs in the kitchen, and while they waited for their coffee to brew, Riley spilled his heart out to her about Dani.
Now, an hour later, Margot had just gone into the bathroom to take a shower when a light knock sounded on the door. It was Dani. “We’re leaving,” she said, obviously having showered in another bathroom.
Her hair was neatly styled and she wore a trace of lightly applied makeup, but Dani was out of sorts, with bags under her eyes.
“Oh, Dani.” Margot hugged her friend. Riley had made it sound as if he didn’t know what to do with her, but she wished she knew Dani’s side of the story.
“Will you call me if you need to talk?” she asked, holding Dani at arm’s length so she could meet her gaze. “Anytime, anywhere. Okay?”
“You know I will. But Riley and I will be fine.” Dani swallowed. “We always are.”
They said goodbye, and Margot watched her go down the stairs, wondering what the ride home for them would be like.
As she shut the door again, she plugged in the hairdryer, drowning out everything else. Worry weighed on her, and not just because of Dani.
She’d been trying not to think about Clint, too.
Things had gone so far beyond a basket-bound thing that she wasn’t sure where she stood with him.
Maybe it didn’t even matter, because she was leaving soon, anyway. No more Stud Barrows. No more...
She shut off the dryer. No more whatever it was that had turned her into a mental case.
Reaching for her makeup bag, she heard the floor creak outside the bathroom.
“Dani?”
Was she back, putting off the ride home in favor of having a heartfelt talk with a girlfriend?
But when Margot opened the door, it wasn’t Dani standing there.
“Crap,” she muttered, thinking of closing the door so he couldn’t see her bare morning face.
But then she thought better of that. Oddly, he didn’t seem to notice her lack of makeup.
“You disappeared early,” he said, leaning against the door frame. She wondered if that was his position of choice, just like Robert Redford would’ve done in that cowboy movie he was in back when he was young and golden.
She dabbed some creamy foundation on her face, pretending that Clint had seen her primp a thousand times before.
This was just another show for him. Le Crazy Au Natural.
“I wasn’t tired anymore,” she said. “Besides, getting up at the crack of dawn gave me the chance to talk with Riley.”
“Yeah. Before he left, he mentioned what’s going on with Dani.”
“Do you think their truck will freeze over before they get home?”
“I think they’ll be okay. They’re Dani and Riley.”
She slid him a glance. They had been Dani and Riley before the reunion.
With purposeful efficiency, Margot uncapped her mineral powder and extracted the large powder brush from her bag. He was watching her every move, as if fascinated.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said.
“Danger ahead.”
“Seriously, Margot.” He reached toward the counter, grabbing a tube of crimson lipstick, opening the top and spinning it until the red emerged. “What if you stayed here in the country for a couple more days, just to see if there really is a book in this for you?”
“The Sex in the City fish-out-of-water idea?” She finished dusting powder over her face, then took her lipstick from him. “I told you that I didn’t think it was for me.”
“How can you be sure about that?”
He had a question for everything.
&nb
sp; But she made him wait for her answer as she applied the red to her lips.
When she was done, he looked at her mouth as if he had been having a few lipstick fantasies.
Desire cascaded over her, but she continued with her makeup application, fetching her blush.
Was he proposing that she stay here for a short time because he was interested in the well-being of her career? Or was it because he wanted more basket time?
A few days ago, she would’ve guessed the latter. But he’d shown a genuine curiosity in her writing. He’d read some of her books, which still stunned the tar out of her.
And they’d had that intimacy last night, complete with a conversation that neither one of them had been able to fully articulate their way through.
“I was going to go home and start research for my next project,” she said. But she recognized the pattern.
Distance.
Time to go?
“Just do your research here,” he said.
Well, it wasn’t as if she was doing anything else since her contracted book had been canceled. Besides, he really did have a pretty good idea.
Should she do it?
Yes.
She answered before her instincts could overwhelm her, trap her just as they’d always done.
“Okay.” She put down her blusher and went for her eye shadow. “Why the hell not?”
There were a million reasons.
“Good,” Clint said, not going anywhere. “I already have plans for tonight.”
“You do?”
“I’m going to ease you back into small-town life. You might have gone to a college with a lot of cowboys in it, but Avila Grande’s bars aren’t real country.”
He reached into the bathroom again, taking hold of her makeup bag and bringing out her mascara. With one of those arrogant grins, he handed the tube to her, as if he’d become a part of her daily routine.
But Margot made herself a promise: even if she was staying here a little longer, it didn’t mean he was a part of a daily or nightly anything for her.
Or ever would be.
* * *
CLINT’S FAVORITE LOCAL bar was called The 76, named after the old, abandoned Phillips 76 gas station garage that it had taken up residence in.
He parked among the other trucks in front of the closed, rusted pumps, then went around to Margot’s side to open her door.
A loud Kenny Chesney tune boomed through the open metal doors of the large converted garage.
Clint reached for Margot, taking her by the hand to help her down. She needed the help, too, since she was wearing a pair of black, high-heeled, city-street boots that came up to her knees. And he knew he was going to have to keep an eye out for her when the cowboys inside got a load of her in that tight burgundy, long-sleeved dress.
She’d also pinned her hair away from her face, leaving it to fall in a tumble of dark layers down her back, exposing a pair of dangling bronze earrings that she said were lotus blossoms.
“Thank you,” she said as he helped her down.
He kept hold of her hand for a moment longer, smelling her flowery perfume. But then she was off like a shot, heading toward the building.
Research, he thought.
Shaking his head, he watched her go, swaying hips, cosmopolitan-girl attitude and all.
Did she have any idea that he was a storm of hormones, just from being around her? Worse yet, did she realize that he couldn’t get his mind off her, day or night?
A temporary addiction, he kept repeating to himself as he followed her inside. That’s all this is.
The place was hopping, even on a Monday night. It was happy hour, after all, and the beers were cheap.
She had stopped just inside, surveying the place: the plank floorboards sprinkled with sawdust, the dance floor, the tire racks on the walls, the air-hockey and foosball tables near the back, manned by a bunch of local ranch hands and farmers in tractor baseball caps.
“Country enough for you?” he asked.
She ran a hand down the side of her dress, as if second-guessing her wardrobe choice. A fish out of water, all right.
“Actually,” she said over the music, close to his ear, “it’s exhilarating after a day of being holed up in my room with the computer.”
Her words had warmed his skin, and it tingled, bathed with her breath.
Off she went to a table near the dance floor, where cowboys and cowgirls were line-dancing.
She took a seat, but not before he noticed that just about every shitkicker in the joint was eyeing her. He gave them a back-off look—even the fellows who worked with him on the ranch.
They laughed, and went back to their beers, knowing that they needed to keep their paws off Clint’s “guest.”
A few small TVs flashed with the Monday-night football game, and one of the waitresses, Lula, came to their table.
Big-haired, blonde Lula, with her baby blues and her cut-off mechanic’s uniform.
“What can I do you for?” she asked in a thick drawl.
He wished she didn’t have such a “Hellooo, Clint,” look in her eyes. Then again, a few of the waitresses here would be glancing at him that way, seeing as he’d given them something to go hellooo about a time or two.
What could he say? It was a small town.
“The usual for me,” he said. Then he ordered for Margot. “And a Midori Sour.”
When Lula had departed, Margot assessed him with those seen-it-all eyes.
“How did you know about the Midori?” she asked.
“You were drinking one the first night of the reunion,” he said. “And it was your favorite in college. It’s a pretty standout cocktail, being all green and everything.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got quite a memory on you?”
The music switched to a slow Collin Raye song, and the people on the floor transitioned into a two-step. Clint focused on them.
“My memory’s the last thing I depend on,” he said. “Trivia doesn’t have much use in my business.”
Margot leaned forward, and he tried not to fix his attention on her cleavage. He wasn’t even sure she meant to seduce him with it right now.
“You know what you should do with your business and your brothers?”
“Should I ask?”
She ignored that. “Get a kick-ass, top-notch lawyer who’ll make them pee their pants when they toss their next threat at you. Or have you already consulted one?”
He hesitated to tell her that he’d merely talked to a local attorney, but he was no bulldog. And Clint had been too proud to give details to any of the Phi Rho Mu brothers who had gone into law, even though rumors about his troubles had been making the rounds.
It was as if Margot read him. “I know someone who could help.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to offers of support.
“You can recommend someone from your travels?” he asked.
“Sort of. But if you’re thinking that there’s a conflict of interest because I slept with him, you’re wrong. He’s married to my agent in Los Angeles. He’s good, Clint, and if he can’t do it, he’ll know someone else who deals with ag business.”
His emotions turned quickly. It’d been one thing to give Margot details about his brothers, but this was another.
Too personal.
Too much of a slap to that pride of his.
“First you meddled in Dani’s wedding,” he said in mild retaliation, “and now you’re arranging my business? You’re a real orchestrator.” The fact that he’d arranged for her to stay on at the ranch to do all that research didn’t escape him, but he didn’t mention it.
She pressed her lips together and sat back in her chair, taking a silverware set rolled i
n a paper napkin from a small aluminum pail.
Once again you’ve done it, stud. “Sorry. It’s just that this is the last thing I want to talk about right now.”
“I understand.” She smiled. “It’s true that I meddle. I own that about myself.”
As she let his comment roll off her like springwater, he decided that she wasn’t fibbing. She did own it, and he liked that about her.
But did he have the guts to tell her that her idea had actually been a sound one? That, if circumstances were different, the two of them might have made a good team—him giving her ideas, while she gave him advice?
Lula returned with their drinks, setting them on the table. “Buffalo wings will be up in a jiff, plus those American fries you like.”
“Thanks, Lula.”
Before she left, she gave Margot the once-over, then strode away.
Margot watched after her, then turned back to Clint.
He shook his head. “Before you say something, the answer’s no. I didn’t bring you here so you could see Lula using her wiles on me.”
“What makes you think I was going to ask that?”
God, he didn’t know why he’d brought her here, or even why he’d asked her to stay a couple more days. The book idea had been a flimsy excuse, and he knew that she knew it.
He thought of the last time they’d been together, in his bed, him holding her, smelling her hair, trying to absorb every part of her.
It had taken all of his courage to admit that, years ago, he’d gone up to that dim room to meet her because he thought something real could happen between them.
And she’d been forced to admit she’d done the same. But what was he doing with her now?
Trying, he thought. Hoping.
That last realization shook him.
He really did want something more with Margot. Deep inside, he’d always thought about the one who’d gotten away, and when he’d had a chance with her again, he’d taken it, not just because of sex, either.
It was because he was tired of floating along, cooking dinner for himself most nights, coming to this bar and seeing the same people over and over and never getting anywhere.
So why was he just sitting here hoping when he could do a hell of a lot more?
Lead Me On Page 14
