Southern Nights: Florida (The Americana Series Book 9)

by Janet Dailey

  She was instantly on the defensive. "I wasn't sleeping.'' Barbara opened her eyes and was dazzled by the white smile against tanned features, so strongly male and potently handsome. "I was just…" she faltered for an explanation.

  "Sleeping," Jock supplied knowingly.

  He was too devilishly attractive in that mood. Barbara turned her head to face away from him and deny that she was at all disturbed by his latently sensual charm. She even made her voice sound irritated.

  "So what if I was sleeping?" she challenged, her words half-mumbled because her cheek was resting on her wrist. She closed her eyes tightly, pretending to ignore him.

  "Then you should at least have some lotion on that beautiful skin of yours," he dictated.

  Something cold squirted in a squiggly line down her backbone. Barbara yelped at the shock and started to rise, but Jock's hand pushed her back down into her former position. He began smearing the suntan lotion over her back.

  "I really don't need this," Barbara protested. "I'm going back into the pool in a few minutes and this will all wash off." She tried to lever halfway up with her elbows.

  "Just be quiet and enjoy it." The weight of his hand between her shoulder blades pressed her back down.

  It would be much too easy to enjoy it. His hands were gliding over her shoulders and spine with intimate ease. It wasn't just the sun that was warming her flesh. Jock sat down on the edge of the lounge chair and Barbara inched her hip away from the contact with him.

  "Don't you have a ranch to run?" she demanded when his hand wandered down to the hollow of her spine, sending crazy, curling sensations all the way down to her toes. "Shouldn't you be off somewhere working?"

  "I have been. But I discovered I was hungry and realized I didn't have lunch. Didn't you miss me?" he taunted and began rubbing the lotion on the skin of her waist and hipbones.

  "No, I didn't," Barbara lied, and struggled to appear unmoved by the stimulating massage of his hands.

  "I was on my way to the house to rob the refrigerator when I saw you sleeping in the sun with all that naked skin exposed, all shiny and golden. You look very delectable lying here. Maybe I should eat you." His mouth opened on her shoulder bone to rake his teeth over its sensitive skin in a sensual bite. Barbara gasped at the shock waves that quaked her and missed feeling his fingers unfasten the back hook of her bikini bra. As soon as she felt the sudden looseness around her chest, she realized what he had done.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded angrily and twisted her hands behind her back to try to refasten it.

  But while she was doing that, Jock untied the knot at the back of her neck, freeing the top completely.

  A sound of angry exasperation came from her throat, tinged with a desperate panic. All the while his hands kept moving and rubbing, purposely interfering with her attempts to refasten the top. Barbara finally gave up the struggle.

  "Why did you do that?" Barbara hissed, her voice wavering from her sheer helplessness.

  "This suntan lotion will leave a stain on cloth," he reasoned in a vibrantly amused tone. "I didn't want to ruin your swimsuit."

  "How thoughtful of you," she murmured sarcastically.

  "I thought it was," Jock agreed, not hiding the humor he found in her discomfort.

  Without the obstruction of her swimsuit straps, his hands were free to roam every inch of her back. The lotion lubricated her flesh so his hands could glide smoothly and sensuously over her. His manipulating fingers kneaded the taut cords at the base of her neck, rubbing out the tension. Then, working from the base of her spine, his thumbs followed the rippling line of her backbone up to her shoulders where his hands smoothed out to her arms. On the way back to her spine, his hands made a firm exploration of the sides of her rib cage, fingertips brushing the swelling curve of her breasts.

  Her fingers curled into the beach towel, crumpling the terry-cloth material into her palms. The teasing brush on her breasts was deliberate. It was meant to get a reaction from her. She steeled herself not to let it show that his intimate touch bothered her, not to take the bait, to pretend that she was indifferent. But each time Jock became bolder and bolder, his fingers exploring more of the full curve.

  "Will you stop it?" Barbara choked on the whispered demand.

  "Stop what?" Jock feigned ignorance and bent to nibble at her shoulder, sending excited goose bumps over her skin.

  At the same time, his hands made a bolder foray, curving to the underside of her breasts. "Stop doing that," she ordered.

  "Do you mean this?" His hand slid again toward her breast and Barbara tried to knock it away with her arm.

  "Yes!" she hissed, her arm missing altogether.

  "Don't you like it?" he mocked. With an ease that revealed his muscled strength, Jock half picked her up and turned her over. The unfastened bikini top ended up beneath her. In panic, Barbara grabbed at his forearms, hard bone and sinew beneath her fingers.

  "What are you doing? Someone could see us from the house," Barbara protested in wild desperation. The almost physical touch of his eyes made a slow inspection of her maturely feminine figure.

  "No one can see you…unless I move," he pointed out lazily. Which was true. His broad shoulders shielded her from the view of anyone in the house. "Do you want me to move?"

  "Yes…no," she retracted quickly.

  She didn't know what she wanted him to do, so Jock did what he wanted. "You have a beautiful body, honey, and lovely breasts." He cupped one in his hand. "So very ripe and firm and palely gold, they remind me of grapefruit."

  As he bent toward her, Barbara turned her face aside, but Jock didn't seem interested in pursuing her lips, preferring instead the exposed curve of her throat. She moaned at the erotic teasing of his warm breath in her ear as his teeth made love nips on her lobe.

  "Jock, stop it," she pleaded. "What if Todd comes back?"

  "Is he gone?" he murmured against her neck and worked his way down her throat.

  "You know he is," Barbara whispered, trying to be angry, but too many other delirious sensations were crowding in, especially when his mouth continued its downward trek to climb a breast and roll his tongue around a rosy peak.

  "Frankly, I didn't give him a thought." Jock kissed the other one to treat them equally and Barbara found that her fingers were digging into the hard flesh of his back, holding him instead of fighting him. Lifting his head, he studied her flushed and aroused face. His gaze lingered on her parted lips, knowing they wanted his kiss. He lowered his mouth closer to tantalize them. "Do you know what Todd would do if he found us like this?"

  "No." She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't think about it with his mouth brushing feather-soft against the outline of her lips.

  "He would be understanding and forgiving." There was derision in his murmured answer. "He would be understanding toward you because you can't help yourself, and he'd forgive me because I'm not in control of myself around you." Jock seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting her with near kisses. "Do you know what I would do if I found you like this with Todd?"

  "No." It was hardly a sound, more like a strangled breath.

  "I'd beat him to a pulp for daring to look at you, to touch you the way I am." His voice was a deep rumbling growl. "Because you are mine. I won't share you with anyone, not even my own brother."

  He took her mouth with fierce and bruising possession, claiming from it rights that it would grant to no other. Barbara was swept into the tornadic force of savage passion, her senses spinning under the brilliant fury of his kiss. With an exultant moan she surrendered to the wild desire that only Jock could kindle. An arm slipped beneath her to crush her to him, trying to absorb her body into his own. The cotton of his shirt was abrasive against her naked skin. The outline of the cigarette pack in his pocket was imprinted on her breast. The brutal embrace was sweet pain, needs echoing needs that were beyond physical solution.

  His anger burned out quickly without resistance to fuel it. An elemental hunger took its pl
ace as his mouth began to devour her lips, sampling their softness and tasting their honeyed response. No longer driven to hold her captive, his hands began caressing her again, enjoying the texture of her silken skin, its roundness, its curves, its fevered tremblings. Her own hands were moving over him with joyous familiarity, glorying in the hard muscles of his arms and back, tangling her fingers in his thick, chestnut gold hair.

  When his mouth moved from hers to explore her cheek and the soft sweep of her lashes, Barbara felt his labored breathing, the fiery warmth of his disturbed breath against her skin. She had aroused him fully, and it was a heady knowledge.

  "Does Todd make you feel like this?" Jock lifted his head long enough to let his darkly gold eyes blaze possessively over her face. "Do you quiver like hot clay in his arms?"

  "No," Barbara admitted. His chin and jaw rubbed against her cheek, the faint stubble of a beard sensually scraping at her skin, as his mouth moved against her temple.

  "I want you," he declared huskily. "It doesn't matter whether it's in the gold glare of broad daylight or the velvet blackness of midnight."

  The mention of Todd's name had returned a thread of sanity to her delirious mind. "All I am to you is a toy that you discarded and forgot until somebody else picked me up," she said with a bitter, soft laugh. "You don't really want me. You just don't want anyone else to have me."

  "That isn't true," Jock dismissed her statement. His hand came up to imprison her face while he moved inches away to glare accusingly. "You want me to make love to you, so don't deny it."

  "I don't deny it." There was an ache in her throat that made speech difficult. "But all you have to offer is lust, Jock. A raw, wild passion that's glorious while it lasts."

  His jaw hardened. "If lust is all we have, then I'm satisfied with that." His mouth came down to claim hers, but she avoided it.

  "It isn't enough for me." Barbara felt the heat of tears in her eyes and willed them not to fall. "I'm more than just a receptacle of animal needs to Todd. He cares about me as a person."

  For an instant Jock was motionless. But Barbara could feel the seething anger coiling his muscles and waited for the explosion of temper. She steeled herself against a physical onslaught, but Jock attacked with scathing words.

  "You are nothing but an orphan stray that Todd brought home. Yes, he cares about you. He'll care just as much for the stray he brings home next month or next year. If he lost you tomorrow, he wouldn't hurt for long. There are too many strays for him to find and he has enough love for them all." His low voice was laced with scorn.

  Barbara guessed that Jock was probably right. It wasn't that Todd's affection was shallow. It was genuine, but easily transferred to the next lost soul that came along.

  "With Todd I at least have love," she argued bravely. "Why should I settle for the crust when I can have the whole slice?"

  "Is that what you think you're getting from Todd? The whole slice?" The gleam in his tawny eyes was contemptuous.

  "Yes." Barbara choked on the whisper.

  "You're not. You're just getting the soft, doughy center. You'll never be satisfied with that."

  "But he'll make me happier than you can," she retorted in a small, tight voice. "That's the point behind all this, isn't it?"

  Jock glared at her for another long minute before he levered away and straightened from the lounge chair, turning his back to her. Wretched with love for him, Barbara watched his fingers coil around the back of his neck. She crossed her arms in front of her to cover herself and hug the pain throbbing inside. As if picking up her silent movement, Jock sliced a glance over his shoulder.

  "For God's sake, tidy yourself up!" he snapped.

  His anger stung and Barbara rolled away from him onto her stomach. Her fingers were all thumbs as she tried to fit the top to her breasts and fasten the hook behind her back. Jock was watching her and she sensed his impatience with her fumbling efforts. Suddenly his hands were roughly pushing hers out of the way.

  "I can do it," she protested against the torture of his touch. Her eyes burned with tears, the heat scorching them dry before they could fall.

  "Just shut up." Cold and impersonal, he fastened the back hook and pushed her head down to tie the straps. Barbara suffered a thousand agonies and made not a sound. When he finished, Jock stood up to look down at her prone figure, but she didn't move. "We aren't finished, you and I. Not yet."

  It was a warning. Barbara didn't mistake it for anything else as his long strides carried him away from the pool toward the house.

  Pushing out of the chair, she walked to the edge of the pool and dove into the cool water. She swam the length of the pool, releasing the frustrated energy born of unsatisfied desires. The ache in the pit of her stomach went away, but not the pain in her heart. It wouldn't be soothed so easily.

  There were no drinks before dinner on the veranda that Thursday since dinner was served early. The meal was a light snack to leave room for the food and drinks that would be served at the party after the ranch's riding competition. Barbara lingered at the table, nibbling at a sectioned orange until Jock left the house.

  "You are awfully quiet, Barbara," Lillian commented. "What are you thinking about so solemnly?"

  "I…was just trying to decide whether I should wear slacks or a dress tonight," she lied. She had no taste for the juicy flesh of the orange and set it aside.

  "That depends," Todd inserted, "on whether you want to ride over to the arena or take a car. Which would you like to do?"

  "I think I'd rather ride." Barbara opted for the transportation that would demand the least amount of conversation.

  "Then you'd better go change so we can start out," he suggested, "while I arrange to have the horses saddled and brought to the house."

  In her room, Barbara put on a pair of bone-colored denims and a blue madras blouse.

  When she came downstairs Todd was waiting for her. He, too, had changed into more rugged clothing for the ride. The horses were outside. It was an older man who handed Barbara the reins to the blaze-faced chestnut.

  "Where was Mike?" she asked Todd after they had mounted and started the horses down the lane.

  "At the arena already, I imagine."

  The rhythmic gait of the horse beneath her and Todd's easy company were letting Barbara relax. "How long will this last—the competition, I mean?"

  "Until the sun goes down. Eight, eight-thirty."

  "Is it like a rodeo?" she questioned.

  "Do you mean bucking broncos and bull riding?" Todd smiled. "No. It's mostly roping and cutting cattle. Once in a while there is a young horse that's kinda rank and the boys will take their turns on it, but that's an exception rather than the rule."

  There was a confusion of trucks and horse trailers when they arrived at the arena grounds. Horses and riders were milling about, some in the arena and others weaving through the congestion of parked vehicles and people. Most of the men that worked on Sandoval were married. Their wives and families had come along with them to watch the competition. Since there weren't any bleachers to sit in, many of the women had brought folding lawn chairs to set outside the white-railed fence of the arena, close to the end where the chutes were.

  Their arrival didn't go unnoticed. As Todd led the way to the trailer where they were going to leave their horses tied, greetings were called out all along the way. A few of the people Barbara had already met, but most of them she hadn't seen so there was a constant stream of introductions as she and Todd rode their horses to the trailer and walked back to the arena fence.

  "Do you have the feeling you've just run the gauntlet?" Todd laughed softly, putting an arm around her waist as they both leaned on the top rail.

  "Yes," she admitted. At the far end of the arena, she saw a muscled, iron-gray horse that she instantly recognized as Jock's. He was sitting casually in the saddle, talking to another cowboy. "Will Jock be competing in any of the events tonight?" Barbara asked, trying to sound casual even though her heart was knocking aga
inst her ribs.

  "No, he hasn't been riding in them for the last few years. Usually he takes part in the judging."

  "Why hasn't he been riding?" curiosity made her ask.

  "Because he was winning all the time," Todd grinned. "Well, not all of the time," he conceded, "but a lot. J.R. is quite a competitor and he loves to win. Being the owner, he didn't think it was right so he quit riding."

  "I see," she murmured, but she was thinking about that reference to Jock as a competitor and his desire to win. Jock had warned her that he hadn't given up. Barbara glanced at the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. It wasn't much of a defense anymore. And neither was Todd, although she still felt safe when she was with him.

  "They're clearing the arena," Todd observed. "It looks like they are going to start with calf roping first."

  The horses and riders began filing out of the arena through the gate near where Todd and Barbara were standing. A hefty-sized calf was prodded along the chutes while the first roper backed his horse into the box beside the chute. Jock and another rider stayed in the arena to judge and time the event.

  It was impossible for Barbara to watch each of the contestants without being aware of the rider on the big gray horse. When the calf roping was over, Mike Turbot had won the event. The fact that it was someone she knew made it more interesting to Barbara.

  "Congratulations, Mike," she called to him when he rode past.

  "Thanks." He reined his horse to a stop and modestly insisted, "Half the guys out there could beat me."

  "But they didn't," Barbara pointed out.

  "Yeah, well—" Mike shrugged, looking pleased "—all these events require skills that a cowboy and his horse have to have to work on a ranch. Like roping a calf for branding and like this next event, cutting a steer out from a herd. These are things you've got to do every day."

  "You are good at it."

  "So are the others. You should see them in action for real. As a matter of fact, they're going to be rounding up the spring calves over in the Crosstimber section. You should have Jock take you over there one day to watch. It's interesting if you've never seen one before," Mike suggested.