A Cowboy Summer (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Salonen, Debra

  That was a lie. An odd, impressionistic wash of body parts, the painting was in her closet at home. The only aspect that resembled her was the heart-shaped mole on her left breast.

  She looked down at her chest. Will’s very interested, very male response this evening was flattering, but what if it was due to the dress? And her excellent bra? Childbirth and a grueling schedule that precluded time at the gym had taken a toll on her muscle tone. Nerves and a demanding job kept her thin, but was she too thin for Will’s taste? So far this summer, her most revealing outfit had been shorts and a crop top.

  Marshaling her courage, she looked at him. “I want to do this, Will, but I have to admit that I’m really nervous.”

  His lazy grin sent a shot of something far more potent than cognac through her veins. “And I’m not?”

  “It’s not the same. You’re a guy.”

  “And guys don’t get nervous when faced with the possibility of making love with a beautiful woman? Anne, it’s time to burn your outdated guy manual. This is a new millennium. Men are just as insecure as women.”

  His lighthearted banter helped her relax. She crossed her legs, and her hemline exposed a few more inches of leg.

  Maybe the cognac was doing its job, she thought, replenishing her drink from the bottle Will had left on the lamp table.

  “Hoping to relax your inhibitions or do you need a shot of courage?” he asked, a teasing quality in his tone.

  “Both,” she admitted. “I haven’t been with a man since Barry left.”

  “Five years ago?” He sounded shocked.

  “Hey, I’ve been busy. You try climbing the corporate ladder while taking care of a sick kid. See how much time you have left for a social life.”

  He pushed off from the desk and walked to her. Lowering to a squat, he balanced on the balls of his feet and touched her cheek. “That wasn’t meant to sound critical. I’m just amazed that any woman as beautiful as you wouldn’t have to turn down a hundred propositions a day.”

  “Eighty, minimum,” she said lightly. “But I’m not big on having sex with someone who sees me as a way to advance his career or some guy who’s in town for the week and decides I meet some highly refined criteria. I don’t have time for meaningless friendships, much less meaningless sex.”

  “So you’re saying what happens between us will mean something?” he asked.

  Of course it would, but Anne didn’t want to think about that right now. “Yes, it means we like each other. But let’s be honest, Will. Even though we’re drawn to each other and we have this slight unrequited history between us, what’s happening here is more about proximity and opportunity than long-term possibilities.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. He started to say something but Anne took advantage of his slight hesitation. She pressed her lips to his.

  She’d tasted him before, but this was different. Her cognac added an exotic element that fired an intense reaction in her belly. “You taste minty,” she murmured, shifting her mouth to explore another angle.

  His tongue was dexterous and playful. His nice white teeth nipped her upper lip before he drew back slightly. “Gramps left a supply of breath mints in the drawer,” he said. “I’d offer you one, but I happen to like the way you taste. Rare. Perfectly aged.”

  She tossed back her head in laughter. “Never use the A word when you’re seducing a woman.”

  “Who’s seducing whom?” he growled, pressing his lips to her throat. When he licked the pulse point in the hollow under her jaw, Anne nearly melted.

  “Maybe you should give me some pointers,” he murmured, running his fingers across her bare shoulder. “It’s been a while for me, too. What should I talk about? How fair your skin is?”

  Anne felt her face heat up. Not fair now.

  “The texture is smoother than a polished agate buckle your mother once gave me.”

  His tongue traced a pattern downward to the plane of her collarbone. “And I love its color—sort of a gold and bronze mixed together.” He slipped the strap of her dress aside. Anne was glad her bra was strapless. “But I can’t wait to see more of this color.” He nuzzled the outline where her tan stopped. “It reminds me of the pinkish white inside a seashell.”

  Anne put her hands on his shoulders and pushed back. “My artist friend used to describe my attributes as he…um, painted me.”

  Will rocked back and rose in one fluid motion, pulling her to her feet. “Paint you? Now, there’s an erotic idea. What color do you want to be? Where can I start? Belly button and work out or toes and work in?”

  She knew he’d deliberately misinterpreted her remark and she was reminded once again not to underestimate his sharp wit. “Not this time, thanks. Passionate-pink toe nails are quite enough for me.”

  “Aw, shucks,” he said with a roguish wink. “I’m not half-bad with a brush.”

  She ran her fingers across the solid expanse of his chest, pausing at the buttons. “Somehow, I have the feeling you couldn’t be half-bad at anything you tried.” When he made a contrary sound, she scolded him. “Don’t give me that humble-cowboy look. You dance like a dream. You’re smart and funny and, at times, you speak like a poet.”

  He shrugged. “A friend of mine, Hayward Haimes, was the poet. He used to hitch a ride with me once in a while, and he’d read his stuff aloud to pass the time.”

  “Is he published?”

  “Not that I know of. He passed away the summer before last.”

  Anne held her breath, afraid to ask the cause.

  “Train wreck,” Will supplied as if reading her mind. “Somewhere in the Southwest.” His forehead knit and he looked away. “Strange, isn’t it? Hay rode bulls for ten years and never even broke his little finger. Then he boards a train to visit his kids back in Tennessee and boom.”

  Anne could tell Will had been moved by his friend’s death. She responded without conscious decision, offering comfort by pressing her body to his. The big metal buckle at his waist rubbed against her belly in a strange but provocative way. She ran her fingers upward into his hair. “I’m sorry.” They’d both known loss. Her mother, his friend. Maybe they were meant to comfort each other.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. He had a good life. One of his choosing. How many people can claim that?” he said, cutting off her reply with a kiss.

  And what could she say anyway? Was hotel management the career she would have chosen if she’d known the kind of hours that were required to succeed at the corporate level? Maybe before Zoey was born, but not now. Unfortunately, she was caught in a vortex of her own making, and the shore of second chances looked too far away to reach without drowning.

  But Will was offering her a lifeline. Was she brave enough to reach out and take it? Not without making certain they were on the same page about what this meant. One night. Nothing more.

  What if you’re in love? a voice asked.

  She refused to think about that. Love was not an option.

  “You’d better lock the door,” she said.

  He walked to the desk and opened the middle drawer. When he bent over to search for the key, Anne’s gaze was drawn to the framed photograph on the desk, one she’d looked at a dozen times since she started working in A.J.’s office. Esther and A.J.’s anniversary two years earlier. They’d traveled to New York to see Anne. As usual, her work had interfered. She’d barely made it to Tavern on the Green in time for Esther’s toast.

  “I’ll never forget the day I took the biggest gamble of my life. I called a stranger,” her mother had begun. “By the time we hung up, I knew he was the man I was going to marry.”

  Anne had heard various renditions of her mother’s story over the years. She’d always marveled at Esther’s bravery, her ability to trust her gut.

  “Having a change of heart?” Will asked, watching her from across the distance of the desk.

  “Not at all,” she said. “We have the perfect window of opportunity. I don’t want to look back someday and think, ‘I wish I would ha
ve…’”

  He put one hand flat on the calendar blotter and leaned across the distance to kiss her. “How could someone who was quiet as a mouse in high school learn to talk so much?” he asked, his tone laced with humor. He held up the old-fashioned key. “Me lock door. You go sofa.”

  Anne rolled her eyes at the caveman talk, but complied, using the time to watch him move across the room. She’d already decided Will epitomized the ideal behind in a pair of Wranglers, but that was before she saw the way his tailored slacks defined his derriere. He’d tossed his suit coat on a chair, and his white shirt—slightly rumpled and partially untucked—begged to be removed.

  When he joined her on the couch a moment later, her hands flew to work unbuttoning his shirt.

  Will wasn’t particularly shy. He was used to dressing in locker rooms. He once split his pants in front of a packed house and still managed a bow. But his panic level rose when Anne started to push his shirt over his shoulders.

  Would she be turned off by his scars? The matching pair above his pecs was just the beginning. His entire history was spelled out all too clearly on his body’s road map of scar tissue.

  As if sensing his disquiet, she scooted down and tenderly brushed her lips across the right scar. “Did it hurt?” she asked.

  “Not the surgery. I was out cold.”

  “What about what necessitated the surgery?”

  A bad draw in Columbus, Ohio. Demon Juice. A bull that turned out left when everyone said he’d turn out right. Will had gotten hung up and never got his feet under him. He’d felt something tear deep inside his right shoulder, and when the bull fighters finally got him free, Will was too stunned to move. The bull stepped on his left shoulder, adding insult to injury.

  Will’s body tensed as if reliving the moment. “Yeah. That one hurt.”

  Her hand traveled down his chest, her fingers lingering on an inch-long raised silver line across his ribs. “Only horn gouge I ever took and it wasn’t in competition. I was helping a friend move some cows on his place outside of Houston and I got between a mama longhorn and her baby. Not a good idea.”

  She chuckled softly. “If I point to a mark, can you tell me which bull and how many points you made riding him?”

  “Probably not. But some you never forget.”

  “Like women?”

  Will tensed again. She’d been honest with him, but her record was a pittance compared to his. Honor compelled him to say, “In the early years, when I was just starting out, there were a lot of girls. Most never lasted more than a weekend. Once or twice I spent the night with a woman just so I wouldn’t have to pay for a motel room.”

  Instead of repulsion, Will thought he read compassion in her eyes. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

  He didn’t deserve her sympathy. “Wasn’t so bad. Soft bed, warm arms. Sometimes even a free breakfast.”

  She pushed back and gave him a stern look—the kind he’d seen her give Zoey. “Don’t pull that macho act with me, Will Cavanaugh. You’re way too kindhearted to be able to spend the night with a woman you barely know without feeling guilty.”

  She had him there. He hated feeling like he was using people, and he’d always done his best to make sure the women he slept with understood the rules—no strings, no commitment. “Well, I don’t know about that, but luckily, I started winning. As long as the money was coming in, I could be a little more discriminating.”

  “Wasn’t there ever someone serious?”

  He nodded. “A couple, actually. I even brought one home to meet Esther and A.J. Didn’t your mother tell you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure I would have remembered. What was her name?”

  Why were they talking about other people when the heat was rising between them? “Does it matter? We both knew we didn’t have a future together. She wanted the white picket fence. I wanted the championship. We split up. She’s now married and has three kids.”

  Anne ran her nails up the sides of his ribs, producing an unbearably pleasant shiver. “How come you don’t have any kids? You’re wonderful with Zoey and Tressa.”

  “Old-fashioned,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “Need a wife first. Wanna get married and have a couple more?”

  She laughed. “Quit joking.”

  “What if I’m serious?” Am I?

  She shook her head. “You can’t be. Tonight is just a one-shot deal.”

  Is this what they call karma? he wondered. “It is?”

  Her hands stopped moving. “Isn’t it?”

  Will couldn’t keep from snugging his obviously aroused body into the V provided by her welcoming legs. She was hot, half-dressed and gorgeous. Since when did he need the promise of tomorrow to make love to a woman?

  He eased his hands behind her back and reversed their positions so Anne was lying on top of him. He unzipped her dress. As the material fell from her shoulders, he had a clear view of her lovely white breasts cupped by some scrap of lace. He hurt with wanting her, but something made him say, “You don’t think making love will change things between us?”

  “I guess I was hoping we’d be mature enough to handle what comes next with aplomb,” she said, watching him.

  Normally, he liked her vocabulary, her precise way of talking, but just now it pissed him off. He felt his desire start to fade. “If I wanted to take what comes next to a more serious level, you’d say…?”

  A look of pure bafflement crossed her face. “What level?”

  Did he really have to spell it out for her? “A relationship. You and me. Together.”

  “For the rest of the summer?”

  For the rest of our lives. “Or longer.”

  “But what we feel for each other won’t work beyond this room, Will.”

  “Come again?”

  She blushed as if he’d said something risqué.

  Will loved her blushes. She hadn’t come yet, but he was willing to bet that her face would be flushed with passion if they continued on their present course.

  “We can’t be lovers on a casual basis, Will. Zoey sleeps in the room right next to mine. I couldn’t leave her alone while I went to your cabin and you couldn’t stay with me. It’s not the right image to give to an impressionable young girl.”

  Will agreed, and her analysis told him she’d already given this some thought, but her eagerness to accept that no alternative existed made him angry. “So, we’d be careful. We could pretend she’s your spouse and you’re cheating on him.”

  “That’s not funny, Will. I’m not a sneak-around kind of girl.”

  “What kind settles for one night of sex?”

  She pushed off him and sat up. She reached behind to zip up her dress. “I thought you wanted me, too.”

  “Jesus, Anne, what do you think I’m upset about? I want you so badly my teeth are aroused.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”

  “Why?”

  She faced him, her color high. “Because at the end of the summer, you’re going back to your life and Zoey and I will return to the city. Do you honestly think it would be fair to any of us to try to maintain a long-distance relationship? Imagine what that would do to Zoey’s perception of love. You’d come for the occasional visit. You’d want to stay with me. ‘Don’t mind Will, Zoey, he’s my sleepover friend.’”

  Will winced. He had to admit she had a valid point. He’d been in that kind of relationship once and it had nearly killed him to say goodbye to the child who was caught in the middle.

  Anne moved to the end of the couch and drew her knees to her chest. Only the passionate-pink tips of her toes showed from beneath her dress. “And what do I tell her if you get hurt again? If you’re laid up in a hospital on the other side of the country?” She shook her head. “I tried taking care of my mother that way, Will, and it nearly killed me.”

  He sat up with care and started buttoning his shirt. “Those are worst-case scenarios, and you’re getting ahead of yourself. I just want us to sp
end time together this summer. You, me and Zoey. You won’t even give us a chance.”

  She heaved a sigh of defeat. “Why bother, Will? When the summer is over, you’re going your way and I’m going mine. Except for A.J., what do we have in common?”

  No guts, no glory. “Love?”

  She blanched. “You’re basing that on a couple of kisses and one near miss of hot sex?”

  His anger percolated, but he tried to understand her fear. She was right about the disparity in their goals, but whatever happened to love conquers all? “I based that on how I feel. But it’s pretty obvious you’re too afraid to let yourself risk that kind of involvement.”

  Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

  He stood up. “I’d better turn in. Big day tomorrow. Our first Silver Rose trail ride and picnic. Are you still planning on letting Zoey join us?”

  She nodded. “If she feels up to it,” she said quietly. He could tell she was just as frustrated as he was.

  Will walked to the door. He turned the handle then stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry, Anne. This sure as heck isn’t how I saw the night turning out.”

  She gave a soft snicker. “Me neither.”

  Unable to help himself, he retraced his steps, hauled her up against him and kissed her with everything he felt, with everything he’d hoped to share with her the whole night long. When he lifted his head, Anne’s eyes were closed. She felt practically boneless in his arms. He let go carefully, watching as she sank back down. He leaned over and touched his lips to her nose. “See ya in the morning, partner.”

  He closed the door with care. He hoped she’d think to lock it, to remove his temptation to go back inside. What the hell was wrong with him? Ten minutes earlier, he’d admitted that he readily slept with women he didn’t intend to stay with. So she wanted to keep it simple. A quick roll in the hay. What was wrong with that?

  Shaking his head, he snatched his hat off the coat tree and headed for his cabin. What a hell of a time in his life to develop principles.