Taming Angelina: The Temptation Saga: Book Four

by Hardt, Helen;

  “Yes, I know. I did some work at your ranch some years back. Nice to see you.”

  The older man held out his hand and Angie took it. Same great looks as his sons, same warm grip.

  No sparks.

  As an experiment, she lightly touched Rafe’s forearm. A jolt shot through her.

  Yep. Sparks.

  Out of nowhere, she said, “Would you like to dance with me, Rafe?”

  Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. Silence.

  Jack Grayhawk cleared his throat. “Son, I thought I’d taught you this a long time ago. When a beautiful young lady asks you to dance, you say yes.”

  Did Rafe’s cheeks actually redden just a little?

  Angie smiled. “Your father’s right. Could I have the pleasure?”

  Rafe stood, but said nothing. Black jeans curved over that beautiful backside. Angie’s breath caught.

  The DJ started a new song. A slow one. Was that good or bad? Angie couldn’t decide. She’d be able to touch him, but he might think she’d talked to the DJ ahead of time.

  He didn’t seem too daunted though. He took her hand—yep, sparks—and led her to the floor. He pulled her against his body and started swaying to the melody.

  Angie closed her eyes and breathed against his neck. He smelled the same, maybe a bit cleaner, but still outdoors and slightly coconut. Strands of hair tickled her cheeks. Perfect.

  The perfect dance.

  Her nipples tightened against his chest until she was certain he’d feel them poking him. She didn’t care Let him know how turned on she was, what he did to her. If he didn’t know by now, he was clueless anyway.

  She inhaled again, savoring his masculine scent, his manly chest, his coconut hair. Yes, it was his hair. Rafe used coconut shampoo. For some reason, that fact turned her on even more.

  Her nipples ached. Ached for his kisses, his tongue, his teeth. Her sex pulsed between her legs in dreamy time with the music. Mmm, how his lips had melted her flesh as he pleasured her, stroked her to orgasm with his fingers and tongue.

  She was wet now. The moisture was apparent as she moved against him.

  If only she could lean upward, take his lips with her own, kiss him with the passion and desire pent within her. Those beautiful pink lips. Talented lips. Lips like none she’d ever kissed before.

  Rafe’s lips.

  Rafe’s body.

  Rafe’s hard cock pressed into her belly.

  She smiled against his red shirt.

  He wanted her just as much.

  She pressed into his crotch. He pulsed against her. God, she wanted him. Wanted him to fill her—fill that aching empty place inside her body. Inside her soul.

  She leaned upward and pressed her lips to his.

  Sweet, sweet kiss. He opened for her. Ran his tongue across first her upper lip and then her lower before easing it into her mouth. The citrusy tang of his drink mingled with the juniper and olive of her martini. Different. Different and delicious.

  Rafe.

  His arms tightened around her and he ground his hardness against her. Their kiss continued, aggressive and timeless. Angie no longer cared who saw her, who was around her. Were there others on the dance floor? Or were she and Rafe alone? Were they still in the bar, or were they holding each other outside, under the stars?

  She groaned into his mouth, took all she could from him and gave. Yes, she gave. Gave the kiss of a lifetime to this man who made her crazy. So crazy.

  One hand wandered downward, and she began to rub her palm against the bulge in his jeans.

  She felt, more than heard, his groan.

  They danced, they swayed, they kissed. One.

  They were one.

  “Time to cut in.”

  Amber’s voice cut into her fantasy. A shadow jerked her from Rafe.

  “What in God’s name are you two doing?” Amber quickly inserted herself between them and continued the dance with Rafe at a reasonable distance. “Go outside and hose yourself down.”

  Angie shook her head to clear it. What had she been thinking? What had they both been thinking? She’d been ready to rip her shirt off so she could feel Rafe’s silky tongue on her hard nipples. Had Amber not intervened, she might have.

  She headed out the back way to the parking lot. The crisp night air wasn’t cool, but at least she could breathe. A few minutes later, Amber appeared.

  “Tom and I managed to keep their father’s attention away from you two, thank God. What were you thinking?”

  Angie stared into space. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  “Well, he was obviously thinking the same thing.” Amber let out a huge breath. “I told him Tom said it was time to get his dad home. After he came back to earth, he agreed and apologized all over the place.”

  “So you didn’t have a whole dance?”

  “Angie, I had no desire to have a dance with your man.”

  Her man? The words trickled over her like warm honey.

  “I was just trying to keep you two from getting arrested. You were making quite a spectacle. If I hadn’t stopped you, you’d have been having sex on the floor of the Bullfrog.”

  “I think I have a little more self-control than that.”

  “Not from where I was standing. If you don’t believe me, ask Tom. It was his idea for me to cut in.”

  Angie jolted back to reality. God. Rafe’s brother. And Rafe’s father. “His dad didn’t see us, did he?”

  “Weren’t you listening before? Tom kept him occupied. I don’t think he noticed.”

  Angie breathed a sigh of relief. Her body felt like lead. “Amber, I think I’m going to head on home. I’m feeling a little…odd.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. Just get the drinks next time.”

  “Thanks, you’re a gem. See you later.” She walked to her car, her body still throbbing. Mr. Ace would be on call tonight.

  Chapter Eight

  “I want to apologize—”

  Angie stopped Rafe’s words. “No need. It was my fault. I kissed you.”

  “I certainly didn’t stop you.”

  “Fine. We were both at fault. I’m just glad Amber and Tom kept their heads.” She forced a smile. “So am I going to actually get on Belle today?”

  “Yes.” He smiled back.

  Dear God, he is gorgeous. Today he wore work jeans and a beige shirt, his hair in the low ponytail, and a bandana, this time red, tied on as a do-rag under his cowboy hat. How could a simple ranch hand in such simple clothing be so beautiful?

  Because he wasn’t a simple ranch hand. She’d been blind for too long. He came from a humble background, but that didn’t matter. His work ethic was strong, so unlike her own. He made her want to change. He made her want to be a better person. A better person like him. His real beauty, though strong on the outside, resided inside him.

  He was perfect.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  She tingled as his hand brushed against her. In a few seconds, she had mounted.

  “I want you to turn your body to the left. Look at a point at, say, nine o’clock.”

  She turned her head.

  “No. Your whole body, not just your head. Swivel your shoulders. Now what’s happening to your seat and legs?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Close your eyes and do it again. Swivel to the left. Pay attention to what your body is doing. You need to know your body as well as your horse does, and vice versa.”

  She sighed and shut her eyes tight.

  “Relax.”

  “Okay, okay.” She swiveled to the left. “My left leg is going forward a bit, my right leg backward.”

  “What’s happening to your butt?”

  “I guess I’ve got more weight on the right side. Well, just more pressure, maybe.”

  “Good. Belle is going to move away from the pressure, so she’ll move to the left. You ready?”

  “I guess so.” She fe
lt good being on a horse again. It had been years, a decade maybe, since she’d ridden, and then she’d depended solely on reins.

  “Get her walking and circle to the left when I tell you.”

  Angie clicked her tongue, and to her surprise, Belle started walking. Her father had chosen a well-trained horse. Of course he had. Wayne Bay never did anything halfway.

  Including spoiling his daughter.

  She freed that thought from her mind. This moment was for her and Belle. She didn’t want to use a crop or whip to start her, and she knew Rafe would hate that too.

  “Good job. Now we’re going to circle to the left. Go ahead and swivel and look to nine o’clock.”

  Belle didn’t move.

  “Why isn’t it working?”

  “She’s probably been mouth trained. Lift your rein just slightly.”

  It worked! Belle veered to the left.

  “We’re going to keep at this till she responds without the rein.”

  About a half hour later, Angie and Belle were circling to the right and the left without any reins. Rafe’s smile told her he was pleased.

  “Great job today, Angelina.”

  Was he intentionally creating distance? “We’ve been through this. I wish you’d call me Angie.”

  “I don’t know. Angelina fits you better.”

  “But it sounds so… I don’t know.” Too classy? Is that what she was going to say? Too what? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it was important to her that Rafe call her Angie.

  “Please?” She used the word and the batting eyes that always worked on her daddy. Till now, of course.

  To her astonishment, it worked.

  “All right…Angie. Great work today. I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to be saddle sore, so I recommend a hot bath tonight. You go on home. I’ll take care of Belle today. See you tomorrow.” He took Belle’s reins and turned toward the bar.

  “But—”

  He turned back to face her.

  What had she wanted to say? Don’t leave? Kiss me again? Take me to bed? I think I might be falling for you?

  While he clearly enjoyed her physically, he obviously had no interest in her in any other way. Probably thought she was a horny spoiled brat who was too old for him anyway.

  Which, of course, was all true.

  She stood with her mouth agape, most likely looking like an idiot, when her cell phone rang.

  Saved by the bell. Literally.

  “Hi, Mama,” she said into the phone.

  “Angie.” Her mother’s voice was low and hollow. “Come home right away. It’s Daddy.”

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Angie demanded.

  Maria Bay sat quietly in the hospital waiting area. “Please don’t make a scene, Angie. It was your father’s wish not to burden you kids.”

  “Burden us?” Catie’s pretty face reddened. “He’s our father!”

  “It wasn’t my choice, Caitlyn.” Maria shook her head. “It was his. I wanted to tell you.”

  “But if we’d known, we could have—” Angie stopped mid-sentence. Could have what? Treated him more kindly? Spent more time with him? Not thrown a fit about riding lessons and learning to ranch? She should have been doing all that anyway.

  She was Daddy’s girl. Daddy’s princess. How could she have been so shallow? How could she have considered her father’s life work so unimportant? She plunked down next to her mother, buried her face in her hands, and wept.

  Shaking hands rubbed her back lightly. “Angie, he might pull through.”

  Angie turned and looked up into her mother’s sunken eyes. “Might? You heard what the doctor said. They wouldn’t do the heart surgery because they were afraid he wouldn’t live through it. Now with the heart attack, they have no choice. So he’s in worse condition, and you think he’ll pull through? And if he does, the brain tumor will kill him within a month anyway.”

  Her mother simply stared.

  Harper sat down on her other side. “Lay off her, Angie. This is the toughest on her.”

  “Harper’s right,” Catie said.

  “You never even loved him,” Angie went on. “You married him because you were pregnant with me. He deserved to be loved.”

  “So did Mom, Ang,” Catie said.

  “We did love each other.” Maria wiped her eyes. “We grew to love each other very much. We just weren’t in love.”

  “You denied him being in love?” Angie wrung her hands. “How could you?”

  “I didn’t deny him anything. It was his decision to stay with me. After you came along, there was no way he would have left. He adored you, Angelina. You were the light of his eye. His princess.”

  Just what she didn’t need to hear at this moment. Angie sniffed, taking the tissue Catie handed her. She’d taken her father for granted for too long. Well, no longer. If he got through this, she’d spend way more time with him. She’d learn everything in the world there was to know about ranching, and she’d make him proud.

  “He was always proud of you,” her mother said softly, as though reading her mind. “All three of you.”

  “We know that, Ma,” Harper said. “And he loved you too.”

  “I know he did. We both sacrificed passion for you children, but that was our choice.” She looked at Angie. “And it was just as much his choice as mine.”

  Angie looked up at the painting in the waiting area—all red with black splotches. She’d first seen the painting when she sat in this very room during Zach McCray’s illness over four years ago. That was the day she’d given up on Zach forever. He’d found true love with Dusty, now his wife. He’d never loved Angie the way he loved Dusty, if at all.

  Truth be told, Angie hadn’t loved Zach like that either. They’d been good together, but she never felt that all-consuming fire, that crazy passion, that “can’t get you out of my mind for a minute” frenzy. She’d never felt it for Zach or anyone, so how could she describe it now?

  Rafe.

  She was in love with Rafe.

  Damn it all to hell.

  “Mrs. Bay?”

  Angie looked up. The doctor, a gray-haired woman, removed her surgical mask. “He’s in ICU. He made it, but I can’t lie to you. Every minute is precious right now.”

  “Can I sit with him?”

  “Yes, but only you for now.”

  “You kids go on home,” Maria said. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “Are you crazy? We can’t leave,” Harper said.

  “You need to be at the ranch, Harp. You know he’d want that. And Catie, you’re in a delicate condition. Go home. Angie, you look terrible. Go home and get some rest.”

  “It’s over an hour drive home,” Angie said. “What if something happens?”

  “You all have cells. I’ll call you.”

  “We should see him,” Harper said.

  “All right,” the doctor said. “But only for a minute or two. Then listen to your mother. She’s right. Go home.”

  * * *

  If only she’d listened to her mother and gone home. The image of her father in a hospital gown, unconscious, tubes sticking out of his body, haunted her. Why hadn’t she noticed how much weight he’d lost? Harper had mentioned it in passing a couple weeks ago, but she’d pooh-poohed him and said Daddy was fine.

  And why hadn’t it occurred to her to question why he was suddenly so interested in her learning the ranching business? She’d assumed he was just being a belligerent old man.

  She truly was shallow.

  No longer. Now she’d live a meaningful life and make her daddy proud. She’d be the best damn rancher in the whole state of Colorado, and she’d learn to ride as well or better than Catie.

  And despite what her father had done, she’d never settle for anything less than true, unbridled, passionate love.

  She drove, staring ahead, not paying much attention to traffic, which was light, luckily.

  She didn’t want to go home.
Didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to talk to anyone, but still didn’t want the isolated loneliness of her own home. She wanted strong arms, warm words.

  Instead of turning off the main road to get to her house on the ranch, she drove through town. Stopped right in front of the vet’s office and parked in back. Walked up the stairs to the apartment where Rafe lived. Hoping Tom was working tonight, she knocked.

  The door opened, and a shirtless Rafe appeared.

  Bronze hairless chest, dark brown nipples. She couldn’t help herself.

  She fell into his arms, sobbing.

  Chapter Nine

  “Angie? What is it?”

  His low voice soothed her, its honey tone a warm blanket for her fatigued brain.

  “Take me to bed, Rafe.”

  He picked her up—how wonderful his arms felt around her—and carried her across the tiny living area to a bedroom. Gently he laid her down on a rumpled bed. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  Angie couldn’t talk about it. Didn’t want to. Not yet. “Please make love to me.”

  He hovered over her, placed his hand on one side of her face with the gentlest, almost reverent, touch. “Tell me.”

  “Please,” she said again, her voice but a hoarse whisper now.

  His lips met hers, softly at first, just small kisses around the outside of her mouth. She parted her lips and his tongue swept in gently. They kissed slowly, passionately, their tongues intertwining and their lips sliding. He pushed his hardness into her as they kissed kissed, ground against her.

  Her weakened body melted into the soft coverlet. If only she could become one with the bed, the room…with Rafe. Drown her sorrows in this magnificent man. What a soothing salve for the horror that was today.

  But Rafe deserved better. She deserved better.

  They both deserved a partner who made love for the right reason. She could escape with him. And she would. But it would not be merely an escape. It would be an act of passion. An act of love.

  Because she loved him.

  She was crazy in love with him. She had to tell him. But would he return her love?

  The thought that he might not cut into her like a spear. What if he didn’t love her back? What if this was only sex to him?