by Anne Carrole
“Why do you want to discuss it? To get more company shares? Is that what you want from this?” There had to be a money angle to this self-proclaimed bachelor’s sudden interest in getting married.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he stared at her as if he expected her to guess the answer to that question and leaned forward so his lips were a whisper from hers. The heat of his breath teased across her mouth, causing a little shiver of recognition. She resisted the urge to step back even as her pulse ticked at her temple like a time bomb’s clock on a short fuse.
“I want you, Mandy. In my bed and happy to be there. That’s what I want.”
He lowered his face, and his lips swept across hers.
Like a match igniting a brush fire, heat zinged through her body in a rush. She felt light headed as his arms encircled her and his hands pressed against her back. His tongue touched the seam of her lips, and they parted like he’d pressed some automated opener. He tasted like coffee and man, and she felt her body melt like she was the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz. If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d be a liquid pool on the dirt floor. His hands rubbed her back, and the hard bulge in his pants rubbed her crotch. His tongue invaded to dance with hers while his warm lips swirled over her mouth, making her give more than she’d intended. Even at nineteen, he’d held a black belt in kissing. Like two people going over the edge, they were free-falling together.
Her mind struggled against the need his wonderful mouth called forth. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was her life. She needed to stay in control of it.
Summoning all the willpower her weak body could muster, she pushed away. And stared into startled eyes filled with desire, passion, lust. She took a step back, amazed she had brought forth all that. And not at all surprised there was no tenderness, no emotion, no affection to go with it.
“I’ve got to go,” she managed to say. “Parade’s starting. You’ll need to mount up too.”
He took a step toward her, crowding her. “Just promise you’ll keep an open mind, Mandy. Six months. And that kiss was a testament that it would be six very enjoyable months. We’re goddamn combustible.”
Chapter 6
The sounds of the crowd roared in her ears as Mandy stood at the timed-event end of the arena near the hazers’ chute and checked her roster as the next rider and horse got ready. How she could even function after that kiss was a wonder. Her body still tingled. She was playing with fire, allowing him to kiss her. But she hadn’t really allowed—he’d taken, just like he’d take her company if he had a chance. Question was, would that six-month stint her grandfather devised derail Ty’s chances? It was still hard for her to fathom that her grandfather had put the family’s ownership of Prescott in jeopardy.
She glanced over to where Ty was standing with Harold near the bulldogger chute, talking to the cowboys who had already competed in the steer wrestling event. He stood shoulder to shoulder with some of the biggest men on the circuit, and if she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was one of them, albeit on the slender side. As if he knew she was watching him, he looked up. From across the chutes, she felt the heat of his gaze warm her like a hot glue gun had spread its mixture all over her, bonding her in place. He winked, and a smile lit across his handsome face like he knew what she’d just been thinking. She quickly looked away, toward the hazer getting set in the chute.
I want you, Mandy.
Ten years ago he hadn’t wanted her. She’d humiliated herself asking, begging almost. So what had changed? Nothing. Except now he had a chance of owning more of the company. Rich as he was supposed to be, why was that even an incentive? And he was fooling himself if he thought he could change her mind about developing the ranch. Her grandfather had locked that up in a trust that would require her approval, and she would never give it. Besides, much as Tuck didn’t care about the company, he loved the ranch. Young men could be swayed by the almighty dollar, but she was certain it wouldn’t sway Tuck.
And where was her brother? He was on the roster to compete in saddle bronc tonight. Mandy watched as the steer left the chute pursued by the hazer and bulldogger in a wave of dust. Three point six seconds. Not bad. The crowd clapped its approval.
Early this morning Tuck had sent her a text message saying he’d arrived and needed to talk with her. And here it was well into steer wrestling, and he’d yet to appear. She’d head to the locker rooms to look for him, but she didn’t feel she should leave any event while it was going on. She had too much riding on this rodeo. She took out her silver-rimmed phone and texted him, then shoved it in her pocket to wait for the vibration. Instead, a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped.
“Hey, big sister, how’s it hanging?” Tucker beamed his trademark thousand-watt smile at her.
Lean, lanky, and laid back. That was Tucker Prescott. And handsome, if she did say so herself, with his blue eyes, rangy build, and blond hair. He was just twenty-two, and Mandy still thought of him as young, but the buckle bunnies who trolled the rodeo grounds certainly didn’t agree.
“Hey yourself. Where have you been?” she said, talking close to his ear so she could be heard over the announcements. The little squirt had on aftershave. Did he think the bronc would care? She almost laughed.
Tucker pushed back his hat. “Around. Checking things out. Trying to learn a few things.”
That sounded mysterious—and not at all like Tucker. “What’s up?”
“Is Ty around?” he asked, surveying the area.
“He’s hanging out with Harold at the bulldogger chute. Says he wants to learn. And by the way, why didn’t you tell me about Mom and Harold?” She swatted at his chest.
“’Cause Mom asked me not to. She said she’d tell you herself. Besides, I wasn’t supposed to find out. I just did. Just like I’ve found something else out I wasn’t supposed to.”
“What?”
A cloud of dust blew up as a cowboy wrestled his steer to the ground. He didn’t get a good time, however, having broken the barrier. Mandy hoped no one else did that tonight. People didn’t enjoy watching a bunch of bad scores.
“Stan Lassiter wants to buy Prescott.”
She shrugged. “That’s not news. He was after JM to sell.”
“What’s news is I saw Ty meeting with Stan this morning. Early. Before you guys even got here. Alone. They shook hands.”
Needles of fear shot through Mandy. Was that what Stan’s request to talk had been about? Was it a drink he wanted with Ty or celebrating some secret agreement?
Ty hadn’t wasted any time. Was his plan to distract her by sleeping with her while he worked a deal to sell the company out from under her? Only way to find out was to confront the bastard. Guess she’d be seeing Ty tonight after all, but it wouldn’t be to get a free drink.
“Was it just what you saw this morning, or did you hear something too?” Some verification would be nice before she stormed after Mr. Martin.
“I’ve been asking around today. Several guys in Stan’s crew confirmed he’d told them he hoped to have a verbal deal before Greenville was over.”
“Over my dead body.” The sharks were circling, and JM hadn’t been buried a week yet.
Tucker smiled. “There’s worse things than being made a rich woman. Why do you want to run this outfit anyway?”
“Why don’t you want to, Tuck? It was Dad’s dream. Somewhere over these last few years, it’s become mine. I want to build something. Something enduring. Something to be proud of.”
“A perfect life is one free of responsibilities.” Tuck shrugged. “But I’ll support you in your dream as long as you don’t try to curb me following mine.”
She nudged him in his bony ribs. “As if I could. But seriously, I know you aren’t interested in the company, but you’d never consider selling the ranch land, right? Word is, Ty is hoping we’d agree to develop it if the company was sold.”
“Not the ranch. Where would we live?”
“Well, I guess we’
d have money enough to live anywhere we want.”
Tucker shook his blond head. “No place I’d rather be.”
“It’s not very profitable without the rodeo business. The land is probably worth more than we’d make out of it.” She had to be honest.
“If we sell the business, it won’t matter. And if we don’t, it won’t matter. The ranch is not for sale.”
She could have hugged him. “Glad you feel that way. Now if only I can save the business.”
“Mom told me about Grandpa’s will. I wouldn’t do it, Mandy. Selling the company is not the worst thing. Marrying someone you don’t like—that’s got to be hell on earth.”
“That’s what losing Prescott would be to me, Tuck. Hell on earth.”
* * *
“Did we fill the arena tonight?” Harold asked as the four of them—Harold, Sheila, Mandy, and Ty—crowded into a booth in the hotel lounge while a DJ spun a combination of country and rock tunes for the lone couple slow dancing on the small wooden dance floor in front of them. Ty had managed to sit next to Mandy, while Harold and Sheila sat opposite.
Despite the dearth of people on the dance floor, the bar was crowded, mostly with cowboys, barrel racers, and the groupies that Ty had recently learned, courtesy of Tucker, could be found at most rodeos.
“Numbers are preliminary, but looks like we almost sold out,” Mandy announced.
Not exactly the tête-à-tête he’d envisioned when Mandy had backtracked and taken up his offer for a late-night drink. Ty had hoped to use this opportunity to make his case. Especially after that kiss they shared. But here he was with her mother and Harold in attendance.
Harold had ordered a beer, Sheila had asked for a cosmopolitan, he’d gotten a jigger of scotch, and Mandy was nursing a soda. Guess getting her drunk and providing a little seductive encouragement wouldn’t be an option as long as she had a rodeo to run. He admired that about Mandy. She knew her priorities, understood responsibility.
“Parade went a little long tonight,” Mandy added.
“Had some trouble getting Guy a mount he liked. He finally agreed to the mare. I think he wanted a splashier horse.”
Mandy’s eyebrows rose, showing off her green eyes under the low light of the table lamp. She had the prettiest eyes. Unusual color, flecked with brown, always watchful.
“Bet he hasn’t ridden since last year’s rodeo,” she said.
Harold snorted as he reached for a nacho covered in cheese from the plate Ty had ordered. Mandy followed, her delicate fingers snagging one just as her mother piped in.
“Those aren’t healthy, dear.”
“I worked plenty hard today. I’m entitled.” She popped the nacho into her mouth. As she savored the chip, a look of sheer ecstasy covered her face, presenting an erotic image. Ty could feel his pants tighten.
“You definitely deserve it,” Ty whispered in her ear.
Mandy swallowed and turned to look at him, one corner of her mouth upturned in a mischievous smile. “I agree.”
“What do you agree with?” her mother asked. Sheila took a delicate sip of her drink and stared over the glass rim, expecting an answer.
“That I deserve to indulge myself.” Mandy gave a slight toss of her head. The tawny mane of hair fell carelessly down her back. The word luscious came to mind. Meaning the hair and the woman.
“There are healthier ways to indulge. Heaven knows you’ve bought enough boots. That’s an indulgence that only hurts your pocketbook,” Sheila said, then turned her attention to Harold, who had asked her a question about their room.
Ty had checked out Mandy’s red pointed-toe boots when they’d been in the arena. They were hard to miss. Much about Ms. Prescott was hard to miss. Like the way she filled out her shirt, the pockets making nice frames for the nipples that were poking through at the moment.
Ty moved his thigh next to hers as he leaned closer to her ear. “I have a few ways I’d like to indulge you,” he whispered.
She pulled back to look at him, and the sleeve of her shirt grazed his hand. Her eyebrows were raised, but that didn’t disguise the interest beaming from her eyes. “I’d be happy to elaborate,” he said.
“Elaborate about what? That crazy will?” Sheila said from across the table. She’d taken another sip of her drink, and Ty wondered if she might not be feeling its effect. “You two do make a cute couple.”
“Mother.” Mandy’s tone held censure.
Ty grasped Mandy’s hand in his. It was soft and surprisingly warm. “I agree.” She tried to pull it away, but he held firm.
“So you’re not opposed to the idea?” Sheila asked. Her smile held satisfaction.
“Not if it’s for six months.” Ty patted Mandy’s arm. This time she tugged harder, and her hand slipped from his grasp as a slow tune wafted from the speakers. Sitting next to her, the desire to get closer reared inside of him.
“Care to dance?”
Mandy looked at him like she’d wanted to do anything but dance with him. Well, he had some other ideas in mind.
“I think it would be an interesting experiment, this marriage,” Sheila opined.
Mandy gave a shake of her head and turned to Ty. “Sure,” she said answering his question.
Ty downed the last of his scotch. Heat slithered down his throat. It wasn’t the smooth scotch he was used to, but it would do. Maybe it would take the edge off of his damn desire for her.
Rising, Ty moved out of the booth and held out his hand. This time, she took it willingly, and he led her to the dance floor. In her jeans, red boots, and white top she looked like a sexy advertisement for America. Two more couples had joined the dancing, and it almost seemed crowded on the small floor.
Ty wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Close enough he could feel her breasts rub against his chest. Close enough he could feel other things rub. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she gazed up at him. A shot of lust barreled through him like a torpedo through waves. They fit damn well together. He began to sway to the music. Mandy followed.
He rubbed his cheek against her ear, and he breathed in the scent of roses. Her scent. “You haven’t even mentioned that kiss, Mandy,” he whispered. “Maybe we should talk about that.”
She pulled back and stared at him like he’d just waved a red flag in front of her face. “Why did you meet with Stan Lassiter this morning?”
Just like that the mood of the room shifted with the force of tectonic plates. How the hell had Mandy found out about his meeting with Stan? Judging by the why don’t you drop dead look on her face, she suspected the worst.
“Stan simply expressed his interest. An interest you are no doubt well aware of.” How had he suddenly been put on the defensive?
“Was he inviting you out tonight for a drink or to celebrate a deal?” she asked as her breasts rubbed the pockets of his shirt. Ten years ago, her breasts had been small but perky. Now they were firm, curvy, and sufficiently prominent without being so large as to seem unnatural. Ten years ago, her kisses had been shy and sweet. That kiss earlier had been demanding and consuming. He liked consuming.
He shifted his hand so his thumb slid under her shirt and rested against her warm skin. She was soft underneath her clothes. Soft and warm.
“Stan’s let me know he’s interested. And I’m bound by the trust your grandfather placed in me to explore all options. But JM also asked me to help you through this transition, if selling doesn’t turn out to be the best option. So I intend to do that too, whether you want me to or not.”
“I’ll fight you anyway I can if you try to sell. However little faith JM had in me, I’ll prove him wrong—all by myself.” Her eyes glistened in the low bar light, and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t from tears.
Ty wished he could erase that pain rather than be the one causing it. But that wasn’t the hand dealt him.
“The way he bragged about you, I doubt it was a lack of faith in you, Mandy, as much as it was an understanding of the industry and what it
could be like for an inexperienced woman.”
“I’m capable of running things. JM may not have been comfortable with the idea of a woman at the helm, but this is the twenty-first century. And I know more about Prescott, rodeo, and livestock than you’ll ever know.” She stomped her foot on the dance floor, causing a smack.
“I’ve no doubt you do. I hope selling will prove unnecessary.” He gathered her closer in his arms in the hope of coaxing her to continue dancing.
“Will you promise, in writing, not to sell before the end of six months if I marry you?” she whispered in his ear.
Ty tucked a strand of her soft, silky hair behind her ear. No doubt about it, even with her jaw bunched and her eyes boring into his hide, she was a beautiful woman. And those green eyes gave away every thought in her head. She’d actually been considering marriage. Guess she was willing to do just about anything to keep Prescott Rodeo.
Too bad he was such an honest guy.
“You know I can’t promise that, because I made a different promise to JM. But I will promise that I’ll do my best to help you keep the business viable. Whether the company is sold or kept, it’s in my best interest and everyone’s best interest to do that.” Ty moved her across the dance floor further from their booth. He hadn’t intended to be so blunt, but in his experience, truth was the best anecdote to wishful thinking.
She stared, her chest rising and falling seductively in deep breaths, just like he imagined would be the case when he made hard and fast love to her.
“Has Stan made you an offer?”
“I’d liken it to our situation, Mandy. Stan’s in the courting stage, so to speak.”
“How is that anything like our situation?”
“I’m trying to court you.”
She scowled. “You haven’t been trying to court me, Martin. You’ve been trying to get me in your bed. Big difference.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve been trying to marry you. That’s the big difference.”
“So you can have your cake and eat it too…”
He arched his eyebrows. Now that was an intriguing metaphor. She blushed—an angry blush.
