Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  ****

  He met Travis in front of his cabin. The younger man was dirty, his face streaked with sweat and, Jordan suspected, tears.

  “Want to come in for a while?” Jordan indicated the door. “My house is your house…in more ways than one.” His attempt at a joke was feeble, but he didn’t know how else to proceed. “I may have a couple of cold beers.”

  “Thanks, but I have to get up to the house. Shelby…”

  “She’s gone to have a rest. Now how about taking me up on that invite?” He slapped a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “We can talk music…or anything you want.”

  Travis hesitated. “Shel…”

  “She needs to rest right now. Come on.” He opened the door and held it.

  “Okay, but maybe a cola? I think I had enough beer on my birthday to hold me for a month or more.”

  ****

  Five minutes later Travis stepped out of the small, antiquated bathroom in the cabin. He’d washed his face and run a comb through his hair.

  “Feeling better?” Jordan handed him a can of ice-cold cola sweating in the heat of the day, then snapped open one for himself.

  “As good as it gets under the circumstances.” He sank down on the edge of one of the two bunks running along alternate sides of the log walls. “Damn. Poor Shel. She loved that old mare.” He looked down at the can in his hands and swallowed hard.

  “I know how she feels. Lost my dog when I was sixteen. I’d had him since I was four or five. It still hurts to think about Jake.”

  “His name was Jake?” Travis looked over at him, surprise chasing away some of the hurt in his expression.

  “Yeah.” He quirked a corner of his mouth into a half grin. “Explains my choice of aliases, doesn’t it?”

  “Farm kid, weren’t you, Jordan…like me?” Jordan guessed where this was going.

  “Sure was.”

  “And still you made it big time in country music.”

  “Yeah, well, I did have a darn good band backing me up. And then the luck of the Irish in being discovered by a really knowledgeable, really pushy agent.”

  “But there’s no saying a guy like me couldn’t…” The hope and optimism in his eyes hurt Jordan.

  “No, there’s definitely no saying. Here.” He reached for his guitar leaning against the wall by the woodstove in the corner. “Want to give this a go?” In an effort to change the subject, he handed it to him.

  “Ah, man, Jordan Brooks’ guitar. Ah, man!” Travis set his cola aside and took it into his hands reverently.

  “Give it a try.” Jordan took a chair at the scarred oak table and leaned back. “You sounded good with the band the other night, but I couldn’t get a read on just you. Let me hear what you can do.”

  ****

  “Man, I can’t believe I just spent the last half hour playing Jordan Brooks’ guitar.” Travis leaned the instrument carefully against the bunk and shook his head in disbelief.

  “Not the same thrill when you do it night after night.” Jordan polished off his cola. He avoided telling Travis how impressed he’d been. Shelby didn’t want her brother encouraged, and he wasn’t about to defy her…at least not right now. Still, the kid was good, very good, and deserved a chance…

  “I’d like to do something for Shelby.” He changed the subject. “She needs something nice to happen to her right now. I’m open to suggestions, Travis.”

  “Well…” Travis paused and looked down at his hands. “Hey.” He glanced up. “I’ve got it. Friday is her birthday. You could take her out.”

  “Another birthday? Great. I’d like to take her to a fancy restaurant in town—flowers and the whole deal—but I can’t risk being recognized.”

  “No problem. That’s not what she’d want anyhow.”

  “What would she like?”

  “Believe it or not, Shel’s a romantic. I think a sunset picnic on the beach would be the perfect thing.”

  “Definitely doable. Will you order me a picnic basket in town with escargot, caviar, champagne, the works, and pick it up for me on Friday afternoon? I’ll give you cash to pay for it. Can’t risk using a credit card.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’re doing really well.” Honesty brought the words to Shelby’s lips as she watched Jordan halt the mare in the middle of the outdoor riding ring.

  “I’d feel complimented if you didn’t sound so surprised.” Grinning, Jordan dismounted and led Candy over to the fence. “Does that mean I’m doing better than you expected a counterfeit cowboy to do?”

  “Yes, well, I guess it does.” She squinted up at him in the declining afternoon sun. “But don’t get your ego on a high. Loping around a corral on a mare as well trained as Candy is a long way from handling any horse that comes along.”

  “I realize that, but don’t forget I rode your stallion and lived to tell about it.” The twinkle in those amazing blue eyes melted her.

  “Acknowledged. And appreciated. Now how about cooling down your mount and putting her away before you start the evening cleaning and feeding?”

  “You don’t leave a man much time to enjoy a well-deserved compliment, do you?” He opened the gate and led Candy out of the corral. “But before I do, I have something to ask.”

  “I’m here to answer any and all questions…of an equestrian nature. Ask away.” She leaned back against the fence and crossed her arms.

  “This has nothing to do with riding or even the farm.” He paused three feet in front of her and faced her squarely, Candy fondling his shoulder. “Travis told me today is your birthday. I’d like to invite you on a picnic this evening. He says you’re partial to them…on the beach.”

  “I don’t think…” Taken completely off guard, she found herself fumbling. “That is, it’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, but I think it is. You’ve had a strenuous week but you’ve never stopped being anything but hard-working and professional. You deserve a break. And so do I, as a matter of fact. Come on, Doctor. I’ve already gotten Travis’s okay—which, believe me, is saying a lot after the talk he gave me that first day, regarding my being a gentleman around his sister.”

  “Travis did what? Jordan, I’m sorry. He had no business to talk to you like that.” She felt a flush of embarrassment spreading up her cheeks. “Anyhow, as I’ve told you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Of course you are. And I thoroughly respect the fact. So how about it? Picnic tonight? I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”

  Shelby hesitated. She hadn’t really celebrated her birthday in years. Now, here, in the person of a country music superstar, was a drop-dead gorgeous man offering the kind of evening she’d have chosen if she’d made the decision about how and where.

  “Okay.” She jerked her head in assent and pursed her lips into a determined little smile. “See you at six thirty.”

  ****

  What to wear. Shelby scanned her closet and came up empty of ideas. What did a woman wear on a beach date with superstar Jordan Brooks? Dress pants? Definitely not. They were only going to the beach. Shorts? Too provocative. She began throwing clothes out onto the bed. No, not that. Definitely not that. Hmmm, maybe. No, on second thought… Possibly that new pair of jeans and the sleeveless gingham blouse with just a hint of ruffles down the front. Suitable for a picnic but with just enough femininity to say casual date. Now, shoes…

  She finally chose a pair of flat, strappy sandals, then headed into the shower. Andy had given her a collection of scented bath products last Christmas. Maybe it was time to break open the fancy wrapping.

  Twenty minutes later, her hair towel-dried, she returned to her bedroom and opened her underwear drawer. All of it was practical stuff…all except that lacy thong and bra she’d bought on a whim last winter when she’d been feeling particularly hag-worn.

  She pulled on the panties, then paused and looked at herself in the mirror above her dresser. What was she doing? This was a birthday party at the beach, a thank-you from her stu
dent. There was no reason to even vaguely suspect he’d see this fancy underwear.

  So what? It’s your birthday, girl. No harm in being a little wild and crazy where no one will ever see.

  She reached for the lacy bra.

  ****

  “ ’Evenin’, ma’am.” Carrying a long white cardboard box topped with a big red bow, Jordan Brooks, in tan slacks and a blue chambray shirt, stepped into the farmhouse kitchen. He extended the container to her. “For you. Happy birthday.”

  As she accepted it, Shelby felt her breath catch in her throat. He was so handsome, like something out of a magazine. His hair was neatly brushed, the stubble removed.

  “You…look different. Do you think it’s wise to have shaved?”

  “There’ll only be you and me around tonight. My beard grows fast, and I wanted to look my most respectable best for this occasion. By tomorrow noon I’ll have a great five o’clock shadow. Why? Don’t you like the way I look?” He curled his lips, blue eyes twinkling.

  It made her insides hiccup. “You look…fine.”

  Their gazes met and a shiver of anticipation wafted over her from head to toe. Crazy, as if anything were going to happen. She brought herself out of it.

  “Aren’t you going to open the box?” He jerked his head in its direction.

  “Oh, yes, certainly.” She placed it on the table and raised the lid. Inside were a dozen of the most beautiful red long-stemmed roses she’d ever seen.

  “Jordan, they’re gorgeous, but it wasn’t necessary.” Suddenly she felt all wrong in her jeans and yellow gingham blouse, all wrong about going out with a celebrity of his stature. He looked so sophisticated, the roses totally unsuited to a country vet with work-coarsened hands and stubby fingernails.

  “Yes, it is. You and Travis have been good to me and I appreciate it. You’ve brought me back to health. I’ve only been sick once since I arrived here, and that was due to my own stupidity. Now stick those in water, and let’s go. I’ve got champagne on ice and a bunch of other stuff that needs our attention. With the landowner’s permission, we’ll drive across her fields to the shore. I’ve found a perfect spot beside a grove of white birch near the beach. Now, what say? May I drive across your property, ma’am?”

  ****

  Later, she’d remember the evening that followed like a beautiful dream…the blanket spread in a small, grassy dip above the beach, the champagne, the picnic that consisted of expensive and exotic foods, most of which she’d only read about in romance novels, the sound of gentle waves lapping on the shore, a summer’s evening breeze soughing softly through the trees in a nearby grove.

  They ate and talked and watched the sunset over the bay. Their back-story resolve melted into the bubbles of the wine, and he told her about growing up on a potato farm on Prince Edward Island, about losing his dog named Jake and how his mother had made hot, sweet tea for him after the old collie’s death.

  She told him about her uncle and aunt, how they’d taken in two orphaned children and raised them as their own, why that made it so important that she take good care of the farm. She even told him about Michelle Latton and their bid for the Canadian National Equestrian Team, about how the other girl, with an expensive, experienced jumper purchased by her wealthy father, had defeated her, ruined Midnight Fantasy’s chances, and destroyed her dream of international success even though the little mare had given her best effort.

  “I can see why losing Midnight Fantasy hurt you and Travis so much.” He looked into her eyes, melting her heart with the sincerity she saw mirrored in his. As she felt the sting of welling tears, he suddenly got to his feet and reached down a hand to pull her up to join him.

  “Enough sad talk. Just look at that sunset. Time for a walk on the beach, Doctor.”

  “Agreed. But first, shoes off. That’s the only appropriate way to take a stroll on the sand.”

  ****

  A moon was rising when they turned back toward their picnic site. Jordan put an arm around Shelby and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She knew it was exactly the wrong thing to do, but it was her birthday and she deserved to enjoy herself.

  “Jordan, you’re comfortable with farm life.” She ventured an inquiry. “And you must have made enough money by now to be able to retire…before your health is ruined. Why don’t you go home to your parents’ place?”

  “Do you really want to know?” He paused to look down at her.

  “Yes, really.”

  “Okay, have a seat.” He indicated a driftwood log beside some tall shore grass.

  ****

  “So that’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” He finished his story and leaned forward from his place on the log beside her, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands.

  “Jordan, I had no idea. So those boys in your band have all been released into your custody and you’re personally responsible for them, for their traveling around North America on specially issued passports. And here I thought watching out for Travis was a big deal. Why would you undertake such a responsibility?”

  He shrugged and avoided her eyes. “The boys deserve a chance.”

  “Nevertheless, I think you’re amazing.” She turned to him in the moonlight, suddenly feeling she knew the man beside her so much better. He wasn’t simply a country-western superstar. He was a truly good man, a man she could respect…and maybe even love.

  “Do you?” He swiveled to look at her. “Do you really, Shelby Masters?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I think you’re pretty darned amazing yourself, Doctor.” His tone was soft, sensuous, as he leaned forward to touch his lips to hers. “Come on.” He surprised her by getting to his feet. “Let’s go back to the picnic site. I have a birthday present for you.”

  “What?” She scrambled up as he pulled on her hand. “Something else? Really, Jordan, roses, champagne, that picnic…there’s been far too much already.”

  “But this one is special.” They arrived at the picnic site. “Sit.” He indicated the blanket they’d cleared of food earlier. He went to the truck, took another bottle of champagne from the back, dripping from being on ice, and popped its cork.

  “What…? Jordan, I think I’ve had enough already.”

  “Just a glass to go along with what I have planned.” He poured, returned the bottle to the ice bucket, then pulled his guitar from the cargo space. Leaning against the old truck’s fender, he strummed a soft chord. A full moon was rising behind him, silhouetting him in its soft glow.

  Shelby could only listen, mesmerized, as he began to play and sing a sensuous classical love song, first in English and then in French. “Parle-moi d’amour,” he sang, looking deep into her eyes and bringing her heart to the back of her throat, her entire body into a flutter of desire. All her romantic fantasies were coming true, and more. Her dream night was reality.

  When he’d finished, he replaced the guitar in the back of the truck and came to join her on the blanket.

  “Shelby.” He took the still-full glass from her hand and leaned to touch her lips with his. “Shelby.” The second time he spoke her name, it was so filled with passion and need she sucked in her breath.

  And when he eased her back to lie on the blanket in the moonlight, she could only welcome him, welcome the moment as she’d never welcomed anything in her life.

  His fingers found the buttons on her blouse and shortly the lacy trim of the bra she’d wondered about wearing, that she’d been confident no one except herself would ever see. And shortly he’d found its fastening and was running his hand over her breast, gently, carefully, sensuously.

  “Jordan,” she breathed and he kissed her again, then flinched with pleasure as he lowered his head to fondle her breasts. “Oh, Jordan.”

  “Shelby, I’ve wanted to make love to you since the first time I saw you, since that day you came bowling out of that fire entrance into my arms,” he breathed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  His
hand opened the button at the top of her jeans and he raised himself to look questioningly down into her eyes.

  “Yes, Jordan, yes.” She breathed her hands going to his shirt front to open it.

  They made love beneath a full moon while ocean breezes wafted gently over them and gentle waves lapped on the shore. Shelby had never experienced anything like the moment when he carefully parted her legs and entered her eager body. She hadn’t made a mistake. No, definitely not. And no matter what happened or how long she lived, she’d never regret it.

  Later, as they lay together on the blanket, Shelby cuddled into Jordan’s arms and shivered.

  “Cold?” He pulled the free half of the blanket around them. “Thought I was hot enough stuff to avoid that.”

  She looked up into his face and saw the grin she loved in the moonlight.

  “Oh, you are, you definitely are. But the blanket does feel good.”

  She ran a finger down his cheek and kissed his jaw. “And I’m glad you shaved.”

  “Afraid of going back for Travis to see you with beard burn?”

  “Maybe a bit, but you are one good-lookin’ guy clean shaven. No wonder the women go wild about you.”

  “Hey, let’s leave that counterfeit cowboy out of this.” He pulled her on top of him. “Tonight you’re making love with Jake Banks, a farmer’s boy from P.E.I. Big disappointment?”

  “No, oh, no, definitely no.” She positioned herself over him and was rewarded with a hearty, good-old-country-boy grunt of satisfaction.

  ****

  Shelby wasn’t sure if it was the beam of sunlight sneaking in between her curtains or a slight headache that awakened her the next morning. She blinked and grimaced as she looked at her bedside clock radio. Six thirty. She’d overslept. Then the memory of the previous evening slid back across her mind. God, had it been a reality, or had it been some sort of fantastic dream? The roses, the picnic at the beach, the barefoot walk on the sand, the champagne, that song, Jordan Brooks making fantastic love to her?

  She wiggled her toes. Definitely sand between them. Oh, God, definitely not a dream. What had she done?!