by Marin Thomas
“Mack, it’s good to see you.”
“Hey, Stella.” He motioned to Beth. “This is a friend of mine, Beth Richards. Beth, Stella and her brother Stan own the place.”
After the women exchanged greetings, Stella asked, “How come the Cowboy Rebels aren’t on our summer schedule?”
“Andy’s hanging out with his family more.” And after meeting Beth, Mack was certain that he wanted to be with her on his days off from the ranch.
“You’re always welcome to drop by and sing a few songs whenever you want.” Stella nodded to Beth. “What would you like to drink, honey?”
“Red wine—” She waved a hand in the air. “Make that a margarita, please.” She winked at Mack. “You said I need to let loose.”
“Frozen or on the rocks?” Stella asked.
“On the rocks.”
“Mack?”
“I’ll take my usual.”
After Stella walked off, Beth asked, “What’s your usual?”
“Blue Moon.”
“A beer is hardly adventurous.”
“Wait until later.” He kissed her neck. “I’ll show you how adventurous I can be.” When he gazed into Beth’s eyes, he felt that familiar tug in his gut. Yeah, he was attracted to her and wanted to make love to her, but the pulling sensation inside him wasn’t the result of a surge of testosterone. Beth was the first woman he was comfortable...relaxed...content with. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before.
“Here you go.” Stella placed the drinks on the table. “Are you ordering off the menu?”
Beth nudged him in the side with her elbow, breaking the trance Mack had been under. “I’m sorry.” He glanced at Stella. “What did you say?”
“That’s interesting. I’ve never seen you this smitten with a woman. Be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
“What are you smiling at?” Beth asked.
“Stella’s right.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m smitten.”
Beth snorted.
He handed her the margarita, then clanked his beer bottle against the rim of her glass. “Here’s to wherever this leads.” He hoped to heck the journey was a long one, because he was in no hurry to say goodbye to Beth.
“Ooh, this is good!” She swallowed a second gulp.
“Better than your usual?”
“I like red wine. It’s healthy for you.”
“You’re too young to worry about your health.”
She drained her margarita glass, and Mack signaled Stella to bring her a second then leaned closer. God, she smelled good. “Have I mentioned I like that you’re a couple of years older than me?”
“It’s rude to bring up a lady’s age.”
“That whole wisdom-comes-with-age thing turns me on.” He kissed the soft patch of skin below her ear then licked the tiny spot with his tongue. “Older means wiser, better, more experienced—”
“I’m none of those things.”
Stella showed up with round two. “Doesn’t appear you’re ready to order.”
“I’ll wave you down when we decide,” Mack said.
Stella went to talk to the band, who’d taken a break. A quarter found its way into the jukebox and an old Merle Haggard song filled the bar. Mack stood. “Dance with me?”
There it was again—that flicker of doubt in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation she put her hand in his and he led her onto the floor. He pulled her close and held her hand against his heart. They swayed to the music and Beth relaxed in his arms. He hoped it was him and not the alcohol lowering her guard.
“Mack?”
He rubbed his cheek against hers. “What?”
“Why do men cheat?”
He held her tighter—wishing he could shield her from hurt. “Men cheat because they’re assholes.”
Her fingers played with his shirt button. “Are you including yourself in that category?”
“I’m no saint, and I’ve done a few stupid things in my life that probably made Grandma Ada spin in her grave.” He looked Beth in the eye. “But I’ve never cheated on a woman.”
A sigh escaped her mouth, the puff of air buffeting his neck in a gentle caress. The need to kiss her overwhelmed him, and he lowered his head—
“Is that you, Mack Cash?”
Startled, he glanced up. “Steve Bulldog Bennigan.” Keeping one hand against Beth’s lower back he greeted his former rodeo partner.
Steve eyed Beth. “Hello, darlin’.” He glanced at Mack. “I see your taste in women has improved.”
“This is Beth Richards. Beth, Steve Bennigan. We traveled the circuit together for a few years.”
Steve grasped Beth’s hand and kissed her knuckles. She seemed reluctant to pull her hand free from his grip.
The door opened and another cowboy entered the bar. “Hey, Blake.” Steve waved the man over. “Look who I ran into.”
Blake removed his hat and offered Mack his hand, his eyes straying to Beth. “Ma’am.”
“This is Mack’s girlfriend, Beth Richards,” Steve said.
“Nice to meet you.” Blake spoke to Mack. “Are you and the band playing tonight?”
“’Fraid not. Beth and I are here on business.”
“You in a hurry or do you have time for a game of poker?” Steve asked.
“Go ahead and play cards with your friends, Mack.” Beth smiled. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll say good-night.”
The hell she would. He snagged her arm before she took a step. “Thanks, guys, but—”
“Beth,” Steve said, “do you know how to play poker?”
“Of course.”
Mack gaped at her. “You do?”
“My grandfather taught me to play when I visited him at the retirement home.”
Well, shoot. What else didn’t he know about his friend?
“I’m in,” she said then walked off to retrieve her margarita glass.
What happened to It’s been a long day?
“She’s not your usual date,” Blake said.
Steve landed a playful punch on Mack’s shoulder. “She doesn’t have big hair, and she doesn’t wear hooker makeup or rhinestones.”
You should have seen her when we met.
“I like her,” Steve said. “And she can play poker. She’ll fit right in with your brothers.”
Good thing most of his poker-playing brothers were married.
Blake waved at Stella and asked for a deck of cards, then he and Steve ordered beers and they took their seats at a table across from the bar. Once Beth joined them, Steve dealt the first hand.
After a few minutes, Blake said, “I call.”
Everyone laid their hands down then Mack gaped at Beth’s full house.
“You weren’t kidding.” Steve spoke to Beth. “You do know how to play.”
“If I have my way, gentlemen, you won’t go home with any change in your pockets tonight.” Beth offered Steve another smile, and Mack tamped down the urge to end the card game. Steve was a nice guy, and it was obvious that Beth found him entertaining.
An hour passed, and the bar grew crowded. Stella delivered a fourth round of drinks. The alcohol had relaxed Beth, and she giggled at Steve’s jokes way too much for Mack’s liking.
It was Blake’s turn to deal and one of the cards flew off the table. When Beth leaned over to pick it up, she lost her balance and the chair slid out from beneath her, propelling her across Steve’s lap.
“Well, happy birthday to me!” Steve helped Beth to her feet.
Everyone had had enough to drink. “It’s been a long day, Beth. Would you like to leave?”
“Stay,” Steve said. “I want a chance to win back my money.”
“Actual
ly,” Beth said, retrieving her purse from the back of the chair. “I will call it a night.”
“It was fun catching up with you guys.” Mack waved at Stella. “I’ll settle my tab tomorrow before we leave town.” Taking Beth’s hand, he led her out of the bar and into the cool night air. “Let’s see if the St. Michael has a room.”
The historic hotel sat at the end of the block across from the courthouse park. The lobby was empty when they entered, save for the young girl standing behind the check-in desk.
“May I help you?”
“We’d like a room.” Mack pulled his wallet from his pocket and removed a credit card.
“How many nights?”
“Just one.”
Beth rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Two beds.” She winked at Mack. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Beth must be tipsier than he’d thought. The desk clerk’s mouth quivered as she entered the credit information into the computer then handed Mack a pair of key cards. “Your room is on the second floor.”
They took the elevator ride in silence. After he let Beth into the room, he said, “Lock the door after me.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to move the pickup to the hotel parking lot and get our bags.”
“Mack.”
“What?”
“I mean it. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
Their gazes clashed and he wished he could figure out what message her dark eyes were sending him. “I know.” He left, wondering if he had a chance in hell of salvaging the night.
* * *
YOU’RE AN IDIOT.
Beth sat on the bed in the hotel room. She had no idea what had gotten into her tonight—flirting with Mack’s friends during the poker game. Both Steve and Blake were great guys and yes their interest in her—especially Steve’s—had soothed her battered ego. Steve was an average-looking guy and since she was an average-looking girl, it was easier to believe his flattery was more sincere than Mack’s. There was still a part of Beth that feared Mack saw her as a challenge. Like her ex, Mack was handsome enough to get any woman he wanted. Why he’d set his sights on her was a mystery.
Her growling stomach propelled her off the bed. She perused the room-service menu then ordered steaks, baked potatoes and broccoli for both her and Mack. Forgetting that she didn’t have her overnight bag, she retreated to the bathroom and took a shower. She stood beneath the hot spray, hoping the warm steam would clear her head.
She’d told Mack nothing was going to happen between them tonight, yet she yearned to make love with him and pretend for a few hours that they were a perfect match. But she knew in her heart she wasn’t the right woman for him, and it was only a matter of time before he came to the same conclusion.
The bathroom door creaked open and she froze. Would he try to join her in the shower? She held her breath, waiting for his hand to pull back the curtain. Instead, the door closed, and disappointment sent a cold shiver through her. She shut off the shower, dried herself then stepped from the tub and spotted her overnight bag on the floor. Why did Mack have to be so thoughtful?
She dressed in her lounge pants and long-sleeve cotton shirt then applied a dab of moisturizer to her face and neck before pinning up her wet hair with a clip. She checked her image in the mirror and couldn’t remember what the Beth at the Number 10 Saloon looked like anymore. When she left the bathroom, she found Mack pacing in front of the window. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He frowned at her outfit. “I thought we’d go out for a bite to eat.”
“I ordered room service. I hope you don’t mind.” As if on cue, a knock sounded.
“I’ll get it.” Mack opened the door. A young man wheeled the cart inside and the scent of grilled steak wafted through the air. “Thank you.” Mack handed the waiter a tip then locked up behind him.
Beth cleared the travel brochures off the table and Mack pushed the cart closer. “Smells good,” he said.
Together they set out the food then sat down. Neither spoke. Surprisingly, the steak was better than Beth expected—or maybe she was so hungry anything would taste good. Mack on the other hand toyed with his meat.
“Is it too well-done?”
“No.” He pushed his broccoli into a pile.
“You don’t like broccoli?”
He stabbed his fork into the foil-wrapped potato then scooted his chair back and stood. “You want to know what’s wrong?”
She set her utensil down.
“There.” He pointed his finger at her.
“There what?”
“Your attitude.”
She gaped. “My attitude?”
“The way you’re acting right now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When we’re together, you’re formal, polite and reserved. But tonight playing cards with Steve and Blake you were—” he waved his arm in the air “—funny, sweet and charming. You joked and laughed with them.” Mack’s pupils grew until his brown eyes appeared black.
There had been one other instance when Beth had witnessed his eyes change color—at the El Rancho Motel when he’d tumbled her to the bed, then... She’d forgotten she was holding her breath and gasped with the sudden need for oxygen.
“You’re jealous,” she whispered, awed that Mack was envious of his friends—guys who couldn’t hold a candle to his good looks, sexy body and cowboy charm.
His chin jutted as if he wanted to deny her charge. Wanted her to believe he was as confident as his reputation portrayed him to be. Then his shoulders slumped, and she lost a tiny piece of her heart to him.
“You’re the first, you know,” he said.
“First what?”
“First woman who’s ever made me feel jealous of another guy.”
If her heart wasn’t swooning inside her chest she might have laughed at his admission. “I’m not interested in Steve or Blake.”
“You smiled more at Steve than you’ve smiled at me since we’ve known each other.” Mack sucked in a deep breath. “I want to be the reason you smile more.” He poked his finger in his chest. “I want to make you laugh and act relaxed with me.” His eyes shone with sincerity, and it was all Beth could do not to launch herself at him and hug him until he stopped looking so sad.
“I can’t be that way with you, Mack.”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Dear God. It really mattered to him. She really mattered to him. “Because.” There would be no going back once she told the truth. She willed her conscience to talk sense into her before she chose a path she couldn’t retreat from, but the voice in her head remained silent. She left her chair and approached him.
“I can’t laugh or joke or be natural with you because—” she trailed her fingertips across the whiskers covering his cheeks, his chin, down his neck to the beating pulse at the base of his throat “—all I think about when I’m with you is doing this.” Rising on tiptoe she pressed her lips to Mack’s. His groan rumbled into her mouth and reverberated through her body.
Chapter Eight
Mack froze, the muscles in his body turning to stone as Beth pressed herself against him and deepened the kiss. The tip of her tongue asked for entrance into his mouth and he obliged. Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping across his scalp, sending shivers down his spine.
She had to know she was driving him crazy. He grasped her hips and thrust his hardness against her as she popped the snaps open on his shirt.
“I’m growing fond of Western shirts.” Her lips nuzzled his nipple and he groaned. “Easier access to a man’s chest.”
A man’s chest... He wished to hell she’d stop speaking in general terms. He worried that Beth only saw him as a temporary amusement—her rebound guy like the female
reporter insinuated earlier in the day at the truck stop. Going their separate ways was not what Mack imagined when he was with Beth.
“As much as I like your shirt,” she said, “I’d rather see it on the floor.” She tugged the material down his arms and over his wrists. Her hands hovered in front of his belt.
C’mon, darlin’. Don’t chicken out on me.
She grasped the buckle, but instead of pulling the belt free her finger traced the etching in the metal—a cowboy wrestling a steer. “Is this real?”
That she thought he might wear a fake championship buckle stung. “It’s real.”
“Most men with big egos exaggerate their accomplishments.”
Why did he get the feeling she was comparing him to her ex? “I won the buckle at a rodeo in Amarillo when I was twenty-three.”
She pulled the belt through the jean loops and let it fall to the floor. When she hesitated, he teased, “Aren’t you going to finish the job?”
There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes before she reached for his zipper. She tugged slowly until his boxers were visible. Then she smiled.
“What?”
“I’m surprised by the underwear.”
The night at the El Rancho Motel, Beth had disrobed in the bathroom and when she’d come out, he’d already been lying in bed naked waiting for her. “What were you expecting—nothing at all?”
“Maybe.”
There it was again—that note of confusion in her voice. “Why nothing?”
“Because it fits your playboy image.”
Playboy image? Mack wanted to ask if her ex had gone naked under his slacks, but decided he didn’t want to know. “When are you taking off your clothes?”
She grabbed the hem of her long-sleeve T-shirt and lifted it over her head. “There. Now we’re both bare-chested.” She thrust her breasts out, begging him to touch her.
This didn’t feel right. Beth’s boldness was new—different from the night at the El Rancho, and the shadow of desperation in her eyes made him nervous. He didn’t want her making love with him just because they were sharing a motel room. “It’s been a long day,” he said. And an emotional one for Beth. “If you’d rather—”
