He stopped struggling.
He spun her in one smooth move against the wall and bent to take her lips. A sob wrenched from her throat and salt coated his tongue while her arms gripped his neck like a vise. “Shhhhh, baby. Shhhhh,” he whispered. “It’s always been you. I can’t deny it anymore.”
She felt so right in his arms that there was no way he was ever letting her go. She molded herself to him and held him tight, burying her face in his shoulder.
He kept her flush against him, and led her into the bedroom.
* * *
Morning sun drifted through Edward’s half-opened curtains, sending a streak of light across the bed. Cecelia shifted, breaking the contact of their bodies as she rose on her elbows to look at him, her long hair a tangled mess down her back. “What happens now?”
How could he have been so stupid to give her up? “Now we get something for breakfast. And then go back to bed. And later I go talk to your mother and tell her about us.”
She snorted out a breath of laughter and checked the clock. “You’re not talking to Sophia alone. I have a meeting with my academic advisor in two hours so we can go in the afternoon.”
He ran a hand down her smooth back, enjoying the softness against his palm. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m yours, whether you want me or not.”
A small blush reddened her cheeks and she dipped her head to her forearms. “I’m just a little nervous.” Her muffled voice escaped from under her arm. “And excited. I’ve waited so long, Edward, for you to be mine. I don’t want anything to ruin it. And if anyone could, it would be my mother.”
“Hey.” He caressed the back of her head until she raised her face to meet his gaze. “Things are different now. And it’s not because we made love. I love you, Cecelia, and there’s nothing Sophia can say that will make me go back to the man I used to be. ”
She slid over and kissed him, their mouths melting together while he pulled her down on top of him. Getting food could wait.
* * *
Ainsley sighed at the clock in the kitchen at dinner, wondering what Riley and Meagan were doing at the wax museum and if they were on their way back. Leigh shuttled around, preparing most of the food for the evening’s meal. Quick and precise movements made her brown ponytail sway, and she wore a pristine white apron over her khakis and light green shirt. Shallots waited on Ainsley’s cutting board, small and round and looking and smelling enough like an onion that they shouldn’t have such a pretty name. Trying to decide the best way to cut it into little pieces, she picked one up, feeling its light weight in her palm as she tossed it up and down.
Since she had no practical kitchen experience, she had agreed to play culinary assistant. Her duties were to chop whatever Leigh told her to chop, make the pasta when Leigh told her, and make dessert. Easy enough.
The other woman rolled a couple of bright yellow lemons around on the counter. “You know, PB, you’re not the only one putting out. Oh, and it’s time to make the pasta.”
Ainsley’s world froze and needles of betrayal pricked her skin. She found a pot in the cabinet, hoping to affect indifference, while her hands shook with suppressed emotion. Surely Riley wasn’t messing around with anyone else. He hadn’t told her she was the only one, but hopping around from woman to woman was disgusting, especially since he argued with her about Edward and hopping from man to man. Small bits of doubt wiggled their way inside her. They had said no commitment. Rather, she had said no commitment, and he hadn’t disagreed.
“I’m not, of course.” Leigh cut into the fruit and squeezed, keeping her hand cupped over the opening. “I don’t need to. But I don’t blame you. I mean, what else could someone like you have to offer him?”
Black dots swirled in front of Ainsley’s eyes. She was ready to knock it out with Leigh. Holding back her feelings wasn’t working for her anymore. “Maybe he likes me since I’m not such a bitch.”
Leigh gripped a knife as Riley entered the kitchen.
“How’s it going, ladies?”
Leigh grabbed a piece of chicken and slammed down the cleaver. Ainsley made herself busy filling the pot with water, the noise from the sink letting her avoid conversation. She couldn’t look at him. What if she saw the victory of a conquest in his eyes?
“You’re here just in time,” Leigh said, washing her hands. “I can’t open these capers.” Her touch lingered on his fingers when she handed him the small jar. He opened it with a pop and placed it on the counter, but kept his hot, heated stare on Ainsley.
She managed to lift her mouth in a semblance of a smile. Leigh’s eyes narrowed and she handed Ainsley a head of garlic after she placed the pot on the stove. “Peel.”
“What are you doing here, Riley?” Ainsley asked. She studied the garlic, not sure what to do. She cut off the top and picked at the thin paperlike covering.
“I can leave.” He turned toward the kitchen door.
“No!” Ainsley and Leigh said together, then glared at each other. “It’s only that we didn’t realize you’d be helping us out,” Leigh said and put a hand on his arm. “Be prepared to work! Ainsley hasn’t had much experience in the kitchen, so I’m going to need some extra help.”
“It’s true,” Ainsley agreed with a nod. “Just today did I learn how to boil water for pasta. I practiced it earlier.”
Leigh’s frown deepened. “Riley, can you measure out a cup of Kahlua?” She thrust the bottle into his hands, practically begging for a shred of his time. She wasn’t putting out because he wasn’t taking her offer. “It’s for the carrots,” she explained when he raised his eyebrows. “My special dish.”
Ainsley let her monopolize his time with her ploy for attention and turned back to the pieces of garlic. The paper stuff was really stuck on. Leigh handed Ainsley two very large yellow onions and took the half-peeled garlic away.
“More mincing, please,” she said, her mouth twisting like she smelled rotting fruit.
Ainsley took the onions without a word and listened to Leigh patter at Riley, but she felt his gaze following her own movements. His eyes drank her in, and a smile barely showed on his mouth. He had come to the kitchen to see her. He could have sought out someone else, but he came for her. A warm trail of satisfaction curled around her.
And then her eyes began to sting. That was weird. She rubbed her nose and her eyes burned even more. She tried blinking to clear them.
“It works better if you run them under some cold water,” Riley said.
She jerked her head up and frowned at Leigh, who was suddenly very interested in stirring the white sauce.
“Thank you,” she responded. She plunked her cutting board next to the other woman. “I’m going to start with dessert now.”
“Fine,” Leigh said, pouring the capers in the frying pan. Ainsley had to admit the lemony scent of the chicken that filled the kitchen tugged at her hunger. She was eager to eat dinner, though she would not have said that out loud.
The food turned out moist and tender. Even the alcohol-soaked carrots were delicious, enough that Ainsley decided she needed to learn how to cook. She never had the opportunity growing up. Sophia had always employed someone to cook for them as a sign of their wealth and had never allowed Ainsley near the stove. Then, when she started her own business, she was often too tired to do anything more than heat up a can of soup. Or order Chinese food. But now, she might have to learn. And it had nothing to do with a picture of domestic bliss.
* * *
Riley got no rest that night, consumed by thoughts of his brother, the ranch, and the woman who continued to beguile him. Sun eventually peeked in through his window and he groaned. The need to deal with everything weighed down on him. He couldn’t spend another day away from the ranch, reinvention and women be damned. He needed to spend his day with the ranch hands, getting dirty and being productive. Creeping down the front stairs, he told himself that the singles experiment was almost over and he needed to just go into the kitchen to get Leigh for another stup
id date. He had agreed to help with this research, and the ranch seemed to be running smoothly enough without him for now. Everyone picked up a little extra work, but it couldn’t stay that way for much longer.
Leigh was sure of herself and extremely confident, and usually he liked those traits in a woman. However, he also liked someone who was willing to compromise and let loose and have fun. He wasn’t sure if the reserved, pristine woman knew how to do any of that.
He joined the husband hunters at breakfast and Ainsley’s warm glow told him she didn’t harbor any animosity that he hadn’t been able to see her alone yesterday or doubts from the other night. Leigh flashed him a bright smile and removed a wrapped box from under her chair. Her crisp khaki trousers and smooth pink sweater hugged her body, and Riley mentally shook his head over keeping clothes like that dust free on a ranch.
She sidled up to him and handed him the gift. “I brought you a present,” she said. The minimal conversation stopped while everyone turned to see.
“Thank you.” Riley held the light, plaid-wrapped package in one hand, unsure of what else to do.
“Open it, silly,” she said with a laugh, nudging him on his arm. He snuck a quick glance at Ainsley. Curiosity lurked in her clear eyes but her neutral expression gave away nothing. He unwrapped the box and held up two silk shirts, one a deep forest green and the other a light blue. They were nice, but not something he would normally wear. Both of them, however, went perfectly with Leigh’s outfit.
“Ah…thank you,” he said again.
“You’re a successful businessman and rancher, Riley. You need to start dressing like one and leave these jeans and dirty work shirts tucked into your dresser,” Leigh explained, beaming at him. “Now go change before we leave for the museum. I want everyone we meet to see how successful you are.”
“Leigh, this is very nice, but…” He couldn’t think of a reason not to wear one, except that he didn’t want to. Silk shirts. On a ranch.
“Riley, go change,” Molly prodded quietly, and he let the decision be taken out of his hands. He retreated upstairs.
His brother stuck his head out of his bedroom door when Riley stepped on a creaking floorboard. His cuts had closed but the bruise under his eye was a startling purple. It covered half his cheek and the side of his nose, giving him the look of a panda. “I’m going to grab something to eat on the way to school instead of downstairs,” he said.
“Probably a good idea. You’ll scare everyone with that ugly face of yours.”
His brother snorted and ducked out of his room, going down the front staircase to avoid seeing anyone in the kitchen. Riley exhaled quickly, Seth’s willing communication bringing him a sense of relief. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation about his feelings, but it was enough. For now.
He got to his room and shrugged out of his comfortable old shirt and put on the blue silk. The softness reminded him of Ainsley’s skin, smooth under his fingertips. He shook her out of his head and went back downstairs, unprepared for the oohs and aahs from the women still gathered in the kitchen.
Leigh looked him over and gave an approving nod. “I knew that color and style would be fabulous on you,” she said, smoothing the material over his arms and shoulders. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” Riley repeated. “This was really thoughtful of you.”
On the way to the railroad museum, Leigh kept up a running chatter on her family’s vineyard and estates. After working on the ranch, her ideas on how he could improve the Crescent Ridge had only increased since the speed-dating night, and Riley was hard-pressed not to remind her that sheep didn’t grow on grape vines.
They reached the exhibit and Leigh’s hand sought his as they climbed the steps of the massive stone building. He disengaged his hand to open the door for her, then held back after they entered. The newly opened museum had been on his list of places to visit, but he found himself eager to return to the ranch. Being with Leigh left a crawling sensation on his body. He wanted the warmth in his gut, the sharp, naked longing that came over him when he was with Ainsley. But the one feeling he didn’t want was how he’d missed her last night when he lay alone in his cold bed.
“What do you think about that, Riley?” Leigh asked.
“Oh.” She wasn’t talking about the best way to get Ainsley up to his room. At least he didn’t think she was.
“I think it’s so cute that you never know what to say to me,” she said, a smile bringing a break to her schooled stiffness.
He blinked. “I…what?”
“You always stutter and look so shy when we talk. It’s really charming and endearing.”
She must be right, because he had nothing to say to that. Endearing?
Leigh stepped close to him and ran her hands down his silken sleeves. “It’s ridiculous that everyone got so upset that you were late for dinner a few nights ago,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course you lost track of time. I’m sure spending the day with Ainsley was so long and uninteresting that time stood still and lost any relevance,” she explained with a shake of her long hair. “Like the clocks moved backward, even. If everyone could see what kind of time we’re having today, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind. Even if all she does is talk about how well you two are getting along. Only she uses much cruder words. But I don’t believe a word of it.” She took his hands in her own, using them as leverage as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. She paused, obviously expecting something from him.
Move away, his muscles screamed, but he remained where he was. Leigh took a step back, still holding his hands, and narrowed her eyes. “I mean, not only is she engaged to that blond accountant guy, but I also find it impossible to believe that there is anything going on between you and Little Miss South Carolina when you could have the opportunity to have something going on with me.”
He knew what he wanted to say to that but pressed his lips together. Leigh wouldn’t find his response so endearing this time. There was confident, and there was overbearing and overly aggressive. He didn’t want to discuss his feelings, her feelings, or Little Miss South Carolina’s feelings. He shifted the subject. “I’ve been looking into that financial organization software you told me about.”
The distraction worked. “The one for tracking the expenditures and assigning the profit percentages?” She clapped her hands in childlike excitement.
“That’s the one,” he said, ignoring the prickling in his gut that reminded him Molly worked the books and had programmed her own software to use. “Sometimes costs get out of hand, especially when we shear the sheep.”
“That’s wonderful!” Leigh said, taking his hand to continue the stroll through the museum. After a bit of silence, she stopped, biting her lower lip and studying her feet. “I have a bit of a confession to make.”
It seemed that all of his so-called dates had some sort of confessions to make. He waited for the kick to the chest.
“At dinner, the night Ainsley and I cooked. I had her chop onions so her eyes would get red and puffy. I didn’t actually use them.”
He stayed silent, unsure if that news was supposed to make him angry.
“Can you blame me?” she asked, clutching her hands over her heart and staring at him with watery, violet eyes, apparently taking his silence for admonishment. “I wanted you to notice me. Not some woman who will break your heart when she leaves you for another man.”
His body tensed at her words. He didn’t want to hear anything about Ainsley from her. From anyone. “Then you should have let me learn about you, not try to ruin someone else instead.”
Leigh gasped, but he didn’t care. He was done trying to play nice. If this was what women turned into when working to snag a man, he hoped Jeanne stayed far away from members of both sexes and kept her innocence for a long, long time.
She wrapped her arms around her chest as if holding in physical agony, and wetness covered her pale cheek. “Riley. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and looked away from the wat
erworks. “Forget it.” He would.
“I mean it. You’re totally right.”
“It’s fine, Leigh.” He continued through the museum and she caught up after he took a few paces.
“Did I tell you about the new genetic hybrid grape we’re trying to produce?” She kept her eyes down, her voice tentative.
Leigh was bossy, but she knew her stuff. The vineyard was safe ground that would allow them to avoid touchier subjects for the rest of their date and not have that awkward silence between them. And it was more interesting than discussing silk shirts or onions.
She spent the drive back discussing their current crop and the threat of drought. The vineyard was in her blood and she seemed to love it. He knew that feeling, too, and wondered how she could ever consider leaving it to live on his ranch. Unless she thought that he’d be moving to Oregon if she snagged him.
Dinner was about ready when they arrived back at the house. He risked a glance at Ainsley as they entered the kitchen. Tonight, he’d ask her to stay around for a while and see if he could change her mind about the weak-kneed accountant. And they could stop hiding. They weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway. He’d finally found a woman that meshed with his life. Plus she was undemanding, understood he needed to spend time with his family, and was sexy as hell.
Ainsley knew her own mind, and could make her own decisions. Besides, it wasn’t like he had fallen in love with her spirited approach to life or anything. It was pure, consensual lust.
“What software?” Molly’s sharp voice pulled Riley’s attention to his sister, who stared at him like she wanted to hit him upside the head. Crap. She was so protective over the way she handled the ranch’s finances.
Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? Page 20
