by Caro LaFever
“Can’t have that.” Bending down, he held out a hand. “Grab on.”
Her fingers latched on to his, and with one heave, he had her standing beside him. The brim of her cowboy hat flapped in the wind, concealing her eyes from his gaze. Still, Nick knew her reaction to the view when her mouth gaped open.
“Pretty great, huh?” he said.
“Wow.” Without dropping his hand, she tugged both of them to the rim of the ledge. “That’s just…”
“Astonishing? Amazing? Astounding?” He glanced at the landscape once more. A sudden sense of fierce pride thrummed through him, because he’d picked this place, this view, as his own. If he could buy this view, he would. But at least he’d never found another living soul up here.
Except, now, Jessie.
Her wide mouth curled with amusement at his list of words. “It appears you appreciate alliteration.”
“Such a big word, cowgirl.” Taking a chance, he pulled off her backpack and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in. “You scare me.”
She did. She scared him with her sense of responsibility and her firm principles. Jessie wasn’t going to let him off easily or be convinced readily. Jessie wouldn’t like him anymore if she ever found out.
The thought strummed through him again.
Maybe he should let this go, let the ranch and this woman go. Maybe he should tell Clyde McDowell to destroy that wicked contract and tell him to go to hell.
Leaving Jessica with a pile of money and none of her beloved hotels.
Because that’s what Clyde would do. Nick knew it. The man might be brilliant, however, he was old-fashioned in his views on women. He’d make sure his daughter was taken care of, but he wouldn’t leave her what she wanted.
The only way Jessie got what she truly wanted was by taking Nick Townsend as a husband.
How the hell was he going to convince her, without outright lying and double-dealing?
The hand he had to play gave him very few options.
She stood in his arms. Quiet, warm, and soft, yet with a toughness beneath he realized he liked. The lust for her that always surprised him reared to life, making the sun’s rays seem hot in a sudden second.
“This is gorgeous,” she whispered into the brisk wind, her words so hushed he would have missed them if he didn’t feel them inside.
“Yeah,” he murmured, looking past her shoulder. “It is.”
Wanting to be closer, he pulled off his cowboy hat and then, hers.
“Hey! I don’t want more freckles.”
“I like your freckles, I told you that before.” He dropped both hats on the dusty ground and eased her close so she leaned on him.
She didn’t fight him. Didn’t complain or wiggle. Their hands clutched together as if either of them let go, one of them might fall. Or fly away.
Coming nearer, he nuzzled into her bright hair, letting his worries go for a moment in time. The smell of her encircled him, light and warm, with a bit of a kick at the end. Sugar first, then cinnamon, like the churros he’d enjoyed as a kid.
His cock went fully erect.
His smart cowgirl knew it, too. He could tell by the way she stiffened in his arms.
“I’m just smelling you.”
A snort came from her. “Smelling my sweat.”
“Your sweet, sweet sweat.” Taking the tone of her words as encouragement, he tucked her closer.
For a moment, he felt her indecision in the way her spine went taut, her hand tightening on his. And then, she softened to him, her long body easing, her head tilting toward him, her ass brushing him in exactly the right spot.
Nick sucked in a deep breath of Jessie. In one flat second, she’d penetrated straight to the core of his need and left him too vulnerable.
He took a step back, releasing his hold on her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at him with a mixed expression of frustration and relief. No words came from her. Only her eyes spoke to him.
Are you for real? Can I trust you?
No you can’t, he wanted to say. Run from me, run fast.
But then he wouldn’t get his ranch, and she wouldn’t get her hotels. How could he make this right? How could he fix this so both of them would get what they wanted and what they deserved?
A flash of strong emotion crossed her face, and before he could interpret what it was, she stepped right back into his space and wrapped a leather-covered arm around his neck.
The aggressive movement shocked him, freezing him in place.
“Hey, cowboy.” Her mouth curved in a sulky, sultry smile that was such an antithesis of what he’d believed about her, the shock echoed inside him, shaking his heart.
And his lust.
“Yeah?” he managed to croak.
“I need a kiss.” This time, she was her usual Jessie. Decisive and determined. Ready to bulldoze directly to what she wanted.
The shock still echoed inside, but he’d gathered enough of himself to flip her back a cocky answer. “Do you?”
She tilted her head, her gaze meeting his. “I like that accent of yours.”
“What?” The change of subject threw him off.
“The way you say…you.”
The old insecurity swallowed him. Something that hadn’t happened in years.
When he’d arrived at the ranch, everything about his Mexican heritage had to be snuffed out. His accent, his yearning for fried gorditas and stuffed poblanos, his love of playing the arcades—all of that was forbidden. All of that was tainted by Edward’s runaway wife, Nick’s mother, and wasn’t acceptable or admirable.
Jessie’s green-blue-brown eyes widened, as if she’d picked up some of his agitation. Except that couldn’t be. He didn’t let anyone other than Maggie pick up anything. “Hey. I really do like it.”
Shrugging, he tried a smile. “Sexy, huh?”
“Yes.” The word came slow, her red, wispy eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “But you don’t think so, do you?”
They were not going to go there. Back into his past with its harsh truths and barren realities. “What I think, Ginger Snap, is that we need to spread out and relax.”
Before she could continue questioning, he slid from her grasp and grabbed his backpack. A woven blanket and two bottles of cool water appeared, distracting her just as he’d hoped. “Here, you hold these.”
She clutched the bottles while he flapped out the blanket. “Hand me your backpack,” he ordered.
A Jessie side-eye was his response. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“I know. I know.” A laugh escaped him, freeing him from the slide into gloom which always happened when he contemplated his past. “No demanding.”
“Correct.” Her expression eased. “What’s in my backpack?”
“At the risk of getting scolded, I’ll tell you to sit down on the blanket before it flies away in the wind, and I’ll show you.”
With a chuckle, she sat, her long legs folding, her hands still holding the water. Nick revealed his next surprise and laid it in the middle between them.
She peered at the white Styrofoam container. “What is it?”
“Drink some water first.”
Another side-eye.
“Please,” he dragged the word out in an exaggerated plea.
Another chuckle was his reward before she dutifully opened one of the bottles and chugged down a third of the liquid.
“Now, your treat.” Flipping the cover off, he uncovered the first of two dainty dishes.
“Ice cream!” Delight flooded her face, making her look like a cute little girl handed a special surprise.
His throat clutched with a tenderness he’d never experienced with another woman. Coughing the emotion away, he held out the dish. “Actually, it’s shaved ice cream.”
“It’s a male ice cream?”
Her sharp wit cracked through the emotion he was choking down and he gave her a relieved smile. A genuine one. “Funny girl. What I meant is that i
t’s got slices of ice in it.”
She looked into the dish and tentatively touched the fluffy, pale orange dessert. “It’s pretty.”
“It tastes even better.” Getting a plastic spoon from the backpack, he leaned over and dipped it into the confection. “Here. Try some.”
Her lips opened and her tongue slid out to touch the edge of the utensil. Everything inside him turned to blaze in that fleeting second. One moment, he was focused on giving her a treat, the next moment, it was all he could do to stop him from taking her as his treat.
“Mango,” she hummed. “I love mango.”
“Do you?” He wondered if he could spread a thousand pieces of the fruit on his bed so she’d be tempted to get into it.
“Yes, it was my mom’s favorite fruit.”
Her mother again. Nick cursed himself. Why hadn’t he done more research on her mother last night? The only thing he’d dug up was she’d died when Jessica had been a baby. “How could you know that?”
She leaned away from him, her expression going frosty. “You know she died when I was born, don’t you? How did you find that out?”
“Come on, Jessie. Use that smart brain of yours.”
“You had me investigated,” she accused.
Grasping his own dish of ice cream, he looked at her. “If looking your mother up on Google is investigating you.”
She rolled that around in her head before giving him a look back. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” For once, he was telling her the complete truth. Confident she’d eventually come to that conclusion, he focused on eating.
Finally, she sighed. “Sorry. I tend to be touchy about my mother.”
“Are you?” Taking a chance, he eased closer. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, but it wasn’t nonchalant. The movement told him she did know, yet she didn’t trust him enough to share.
The realization stung. Though, why should he be surprised? This was his intelligent Jessie.
“Anyway,” she continued when he stayed silent. “She liked mangos. Especially Tasmanian mangos.”
The mention of the location where he’d agreed to his dirty deal with her father, made him freeze.
She kept going, layering onto his guilt. “She and Dad met in Tasmania.”
“Did they?” he muttered.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It’s where she’s buried, too.”
Trying to ease the clear pain in her eyes, he scooped up another taste. Dutifully, she took the offering, firing his libido once more. But he wanted to focus on something else—getting rid of her pain. “Time for another bite.”
“That’s just…” To his relief, the pain receded as her eyes grew dreamy. She licked the ice cream from her lips. “That’s just pure bliss.”
Sí, pura dicha.
That was what flowed through his veins, blanking out his dirty, ugly deeds. In fact, now that he let himself examine the past few days, pure bliss is what he’d felt, time and time again, with this woman.
“Jessie,” he murmured, suddenly hot and happy and attuned to the world like no other time in his life he could think of.
She sucked in another spoonful before responding. “What?”
“Time for that kiss.”
Arching her brows, she took her time with another bite. “Aren’t you going to eat your treat?”
His hand snuck around her neck, yanking her toward him and making her laugh. “Sí, as a matter of fact, I am.”
She tasted of luscious mango and honey, of cool water and creamy perfection. Yet, beyond the taste of delicious was her. Jessica, the intelligent female with a steel spine, who could look straight through his bullshit and see the real him. And Jessie, the innocent, the sweet. The girl who laughed with abandon and smiled with her eyes. The girl who touched his heart.
Easing into his kiss like she’d been waiting on it for days, her long fingers ran through his short hair and pulled him closer. A shiver of raw need raced through him.
“Nick,” she breathed into his mouth, setting him on fire.
“Jessie,” he said, his voice husky.
He lay her down on the rough, woolen blanket, following her. He put his hands on her. His lips. His tongue. He took what he wanted and what she gave him with an intense focus he’d only used on his casinos before.
They were a match.
His length with her long body. Her wide mouth meant for his own. Her arms and legs wove around him, like a clinging vine finding its bridge to the future.
Sí, sí, they matched.
He’d known it with an atavistic instinct. Some deep part of his body that had come alive when he’d seen this woman. Sliding his hips on her, he twined his legs through hers, slid his fingers into her hair, and lifted her to another kiss.
Taking him into her mouth, she murmured something, something he couldn’t detect before slipping her tongue along his. The sensation blew his control to small mites of dust, floating in the dry, desert air.
His hand came to her breast.
A female hum of pleasure went through her body, and she arched into his touch, filling his hand with lush flesh.
So right. So his. So new and fresh and wonderful.
Everything he’d worked hard to hide broke into a wild dance inside. The atoms of his body turned to flame. The thoughts in his head went white.
Nick prided himself on keeping himself on a tight leash. His discipline had made him what he was today—successful, powerful, rich. He’d learned tough lessons about his temper, his passionate nature, his Latin heritage that only ever got him in trouble. His hate for his father had translated into years of proving him wrong.
But right now, right at this moment with Jessie, he knew his pa had been correct.
You are a crazy savage.
Rearing up, he tore himself from her temptation and stood. Before he let himself look, he strode to the edge of the jutting red rocks.
She rustled behind him and then, grew quiet.
The wind whistled around him, the only sound. Nick tried to push the feral impulses pounding inside down, away. Rejected.
Jessie said nothing.
Hands fisting at his side, he took a deep breath in and out. The lust still ached for release in his cock and balls. But the fear churning in his gut wouldn’t let him go.
He couldn’t hurt her.
Not with this fierce anger that he realized with a shock, he felt even now. Not with the rebellious, rampaging need coursing through his veins. Not with the devilish pact he’d made with her father.
He couldn’t hurt her.
“Nick?”
Closing his eyes, he made himself a vow. And her, too.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
“Yeah,” he rasped.
“Did I do something wrong?” Her quiet question didn’t hide the bewilderment, nor…the hurt.
Swinging around, he glared at her. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
Her lips were red, bruised from his passion. Her hair, bright and blazing, whipped in the wind like a flag of courage. But her gaze was wary, her body tense, as if she waited for a blow. At his accusing question, though, Jessie straightened her spine and frowned. “It seems pretty obvious to me.”
“Does it?” He laughed, a choked ugly sound.
“Yes.” Her frown deepened. “I kissed you and you withdrew. So I must have done something wrong.”
“You did absolutely nothing fucking wrong, okay?” Pacing to another ledge, he growled, “I’m damn tired of you not believing in yourself.”
He heard the soft gasp behind him, and the anger he’d always carried inside for himself, blew apart his heart and his head.
“Soy un puto cabrón,” he cursed himself.
Sí, he was a fucking asshole.
Another silence fell, filled with his anguished bitterness and her unspoken pain.
This was why he never got near a woman emotionally. This maelstrom of ugliness, this loss of his discipline. Why the fuck
hadn’t he remembered this before he let Jessie come close?
All at once, she was at his side, her hand landing on the center of his back. “Hey, cowboy.”
Astonished at the easy tone of her voice, he turned to stare at her.
“I do have some issues with my self-confidence.” She smiled, a tentative, tender gift.
His jaw dropped open. “I just swore at you. I just treated you with disrespect.”
Cocking her head, she examined him with a keen focus. “I think you swore at yourself more than me.”
That was correct, but it didn’t absolve his behavior. “I was an asshole.”
“Maybe.” Her hand smoothed across his back, soothing him against his will. “Tell me something.”
“What?” he grumbled, trying to pull away from her touch. Liking it too much to do so.
“Did you enjoy kissing me?”
Far more than he should. Far more than was smart. What the hell was he going to do with her? He had to marry her to get his ranch and to give her what she wanted more than anything. And yet, if he did this, he saw now, his existence would be an endless nightmare of losing his mind inside her body. Resurrecting all the ugliness of his character he’d conquered over the years.
“Did you?” She came at him again, with her intent gaze and insistent presence.
“Sí.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. The blunt truth.
“Well, then.” Making the situation worse, she took a step into his body, tempting him to embrace her and his fate. “That’s all I need to know.”
Chapter 14
“Dad.” Jess clambered off the motorcycle and raced up the steps. The call from Peter had buzzed in the leather jacket she wore the moment they’d entered the outskirts of Las Vegas. “What’s wrong?”
Her father stood at the top of Devil Skye’s front stairway, his hand curled around a cane he rarely used, his face pale and distraught. Since he hadn’t left their suite in the three days they’d been here, and she’d never seen this expression on his face before, every inch of her skin chilled.
“There’s a problem at the McDowell San Fran,” he stated. “You’ll need to leave immediately.”
