“I think so. But you know what they’ll say.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “They’ll think I’m after your money and the ranch.”
She felt a thrill at her very core. So this was more than a stolen kiss. He was saying he’d be hers, in front of God and Wynott, and she’d be his. They’d definitely jumped that fence, and he didn’t care who knew it. For a man as private as Shane Lockhart, that was serious.
But he was right; gossip and speculation would flow like a river through the streets of their small town. In a place where nothing ever happened, romance of any kind was big news. There would be whispered secrets among the women, jocular bets between the men.
“I don’t care what they say,” she said.
It was true. All she cared about was tasting this delicious hunk of man, this dark-haired mystery who’d haunted her dreams half her life. How many times had she seen him looking at her from beneath that dark hat and wondered what he was thinking? How many times had she watched him work, admired the bunch and stretch of his muscles, the grip and squeeze of his hands, and longed for him to touch her?
I don’t want Lindsey mixing with boys like that. It’s not safe.
Remembering her grandfather’s words sent a delicious flicker of excitement down her spine. Shane wasn’t unsafe, not really, but he wasn’t from her world. He was forbidden, exotic, and just a little bit dangerous.
He was beautiful too. There was no other word for his honey-brown skin, his warm brown eyes, his sculpted features. She licked the soft spot behind his ear, then gently nipped the lobe. His breath hitched in response, and she felt her feminine power rise.
“Even I thought you were after my money once.” She flushed. “Yesterday, actually. Or maybe it was this morning.” She smiled into his neck. “I was convinced you were a con man.”
“And now?”
She gave him a smile loaded with promises. “I’ve always wanted to kiss a con man.”
Chapter 26
A con man? Shane smothered the flare of temper that always kicked up when people judged him by his roots. When he was younger, he’d gotten in fights and lost friends over that issue, but he was older now, and wiser.
“You don’t really think that, do you?”
She smiled, and he almost forgot what they were talking about. She had the sweetest smile—so bright and genuine, and just the slightest bit crooked.
“No. But I was scared of you when I first met you.”
“I remember. You ran off as soon as you could. What were you scared of?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked away, and he got the impression she wasn’t telling the whole story. “You had a sort of bad-boy vibe, I guess. But I’m not scared anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve decided I like bad boys.”
Her husky voice and that crooked smile made him want to create whatever fantasy floated her boat, but he took his honor and his reputation too seriously to let her think he was anything but a good man.
“I’m not bad. Or at least, I try not to be.”
She gave him an appraising look as she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. He wanted to turn his head and take her finger between his teeth, flick his tongue over the sensitive tip, show her just how bad he could be.
But he kissed it instead, and took her hand in his. Looking at the situation through her eyes, he could see how she might have come to believe he was some sort of rebel. Hadn’t he tried to kiss her just twenty minutes after sharing a meal with her fiancé? The guy’d been a jerk, but that didn’t make it honorable. Maybe, if he tried a little harder to put himself in her shoes, they’d get along better.
He looked down at her feet and saw black leather cowboy boots that slouched fashionably at the ankles. They were embroidered with colorful flowers and tiny bluebirds. Hardly his kind of footwear, but it was the concept that mattered.
“I know you’re worried about Grace,” he said. “And I can see how it might look like I could take advantage of her. But I never would.” He licked the perfect curve of her ear, then nipped the lobe. “I’m no con man.”
“I know.” She returned the favor, tracing the whorl of his ear with her tongue, making his best buddy down under rise to attention. Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder, completely unaware of the flagpole her little pink tongue had raised.
“You’re the real deal,” she said. “A cowboy. I’ve always wanted to kiss a cowboy.”
“More than a con man?”
She nodded. “Even more.”
“More than a bad boy?”
She laughed. “Definitely.” She fluttered her lashes and ladled on a hefty dose of Southern twang. “I’ve heard things about cowboys. Good things.”
The light was fading, turning the world around them to gray and white. Gradually, the chorus of birdsong slowed and stopped as tiny singers settled into their nests and fluffed their feathers for warmth. There was no one around, but he still felt exposed. A genuine cowboy kiss demanded privacy, as did all the things that came after it.
“We need to take this inside.”
Rising, he shoved the swing back, then scooped her up as it pitched forward. She let out a little whoop that was half surprise and half celebration. Striding across the porch, he felt confident and strong. He was Tarzan; she was Jane. He was The Duke; she was Maureen O’Hara.
No, wait. Maureen O’Hara gave John Wayne a hell of a time in some old movie he’d seen. Maybe he was Roy Rogers and she was Dale Evans.
Whoever she was, she seemed to enjoy being carried, but when he reached the door, he was stymied. Carrying her inside had seemed like an appropriate romantic gesture, but how was he supposed to manage the doorknob? The Duke made everything look so easy.
As if she’d read his mind, Lindsey reached down and opened the door.
Definitely Roy and Dale. Pardners forever, riding happy trails toward home.
As they entered, he practiced seeing things through her eyes and decided that the place didn’t look half-bad. The kitchen was tidy, at least, although the sturdy farm table was littered with a laptop and some ranch paperwork at one end and a sloppy stack of Cody’s drawings at the other. In the living room, he’d gone for comfort and durability when it came to furnishings. He loved his sagging sofa and man-sized recliner even if they weren’t designer approved.
There were books on the coffee table—a couple of Westerns by Louis L’Amour and Terry C. Johnston, as well as some Magic Tree House books of Cody’s. A few articles of clothing hung over the back of the sofa—a man-sized T-shirt, a much smaller Western shirt in blue plaid, and a diminutive pair of jeans with a ragged tear at the knee. A pair of boys’ basketball shoes lay forgotten under the coffee table.
He set Lindsey down on the sofa, hoping she wouldn’t notice the Yorkie hair. He was so nervous, he forgot to be gentle, and she bounced a couple times before settling in. She let out a yip and let herself go limp, sprawling across the cushions.
“This is nice.” She hiked herself up and looked around. “Seems like most men decorate with all the stuff women hate—black leather sofas, chrome coffee tables, and those really ugly statues you find at furniture stores. But this is nice. Cozy.”
She sounded sincere, which was a good thing. A woman who wanted a fancy home with granite and stainless steel wouldn’t be happy on the ranch. He wanted a woman who cared about home and family, one who didn’t care any more about material goods and wealth than he did.
Whoa. Wait a minute.
What was he thinking? Lindsey wasn’t going to marry him, for God’s sake. This was a lark for her. The Lazy Q had been her summer camp when she was a child, and now she was enjoying the novelty of the cabin and the cowboy. But she had a business back home, and a life he knew nothing about.
Whatever happened between them tonight, he’d have to enjoy it for its own sake—not as a stepping stone to some shared future. He needed to live for the moment.
This moment, and this woman.
He looked down to see she’d kicked off her boots and was gazing at him expectantly. When their eyes met, she bit her lower lip and looked away, letting her eyes drift shut in a gesture that was sweet, sexy, and shy.
Living in the moment never looked so good.
* * *
“Come on.”
Shane’s words woke Lindsey from a sort of trance. How long had they been staring at each other? She wasn’t sure, but she could have kept it up for at least another hour.
Except they had better things to do. Thrumming with anticipation, her heart did a little Irish step dance as she stood so abruptly she felt dizzy.
He touched the small of her back as she swayed. Worried he’d think she was hesitating, she took a step forward, but she wasn’t sure where this was headed. Was she staying or going? She looked up at him for an answer and felt that now-familiar heat as her face pinked in a blush.
Dang. She was in a perpetual state of flustered embarrassment whenever he was around. He probably thought she was intellectually challenged and had a sunburn.
Nodding toward a door on the far side of the living area, he followed her as she crossed the small living area.
The bedroom behind the door was unnaturally neat. The bed was smooth and unrumpled under a blue-and-brown plaid comforter, and the nightstand held a lamp. Just a lamp. No pocket change, no old receipts.
Obviously, this wasn’t his bedroom. She felt absurdly disappointed.
“Where do you sleep?” she asked. “This looks like the guest room.”
“On the sofa, mostly.” He looked a little embarrassed. “It doesn’t seem worth it to mess up the bed for just me. Plus I can hear Cody if he needs anything. I worry he’ll forget where he is or sleepwalk. The loft could be dangerous.” He looked down at the floor, then back up at her. It was as if he’d taken a moment to decide how much of himself he should share. “I still can’t quite believe I’ve got him back. I don’t want any closed doors between us.”
Her heart stopped its frantic dancing and melted into a glob of sweet, sticky goo.
“You’re a good dad.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I have a lot of years to make up for.”
“From what I’ve heard, that wasn’t your fault.”
“I guess.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Why are we talking about this?” His voice was low now, low and sexy, and he briefly grazed her lips with his own. “We have way better things to do.”
She opened to him without a shred of shyness. It was a good kiss, a cozy kiss, the kind where both of them smiled all the way through. But then he touched, with one cautious finger, the dimple on her left cheek. She felt a sudden rush of warmth and curled her arms around his neck as her heart unstuck itself and danced a happy Wild West hoedown. Who knew a dimple could be an erogenous zone?
Shane Lockhart did. As a matter of fact, he knew a lot of things. His lips were gentle, and his breath was scented with mint. His kiss held so many feelings—affection, regret, desire—especially desire.
When he finally pulled away, she felt like she was glowing from the inside out.
“Dang.” He traced her brows, the straight line of her nose, her lips. “You’re so beautiful. And there’s a light in you—a kindness that makes you glow. I think you get it from Grace.”
She smiled. “I think you’re half in love with my grandmother.”
“Who isn’t? But it’s you I want. The real you, not just the parts that are like Grace.” He kissed her again, lightly. “I want the part of you that went off to school, even though you grew up rich.”
She hadn’t been rich, really, but she could see why he thought so. As a child, she’d never realized what the ranch was worth, and when her mother passed away, she and her dad had been left with so many medical bills they’d lost the house. But Shane didn’t need to know that.
He kissed her again. “I want the part of you that worked hard, even though she married a doctor.” And again. “I even want the part of you that defied Bud and married the wrong man.”
“The stupid part? You really want that part?”
“The strong part. The sure part.” He ran his finger down her nose again, then traced the line of her jaw. “The part that stands up for herself. You wouldn’t have run if you’d been in Tara’s position. You’d have stayed and made the best of it.”
“Some people would say I’m running now,” she murmured, nesting her fingers in the slight tuft of chest hair revealed by the neck of his shirt.
He circled her upper arms with his big hands, looking down at her with eyes that seemed to see into her soul. “You ran to the right place.”
* * *
Gently tugging at a lock of hair, Shane forced Lindsey to face him. When she did, those eyes were just inches away—those eyes and those lips.
The kiss was different this time. Shane had kissed her gently before, and he’d kissed her passionately. But those kisses had been about attraction—about the desperate way they wanted each other. This kiss was about respect. About caring. There was something new there, something perilously close to love.
She wasn’t sure a man had ever kissed her like that. Shane might not be much for telling her how he felt, but he seemed more than willing to show her. With a tiny whimper she was sure she’d be embarrassed about later, she did her best to put her own feelings into the way she kissed him back.
Or was she imagining things? Maybe it was all wishful thinking. Maybe he was using her.
There was an open window above the bed, and she could hear the distant call of a poor-will and the buzz of nighthawks as they swooped for insects in the dying light. The whispering breeze that caressed her skin carried her secrets far, far away, where no one would ever know she’d gone and fallen for the foreman.
The man’s dark eyes and quick mind had penetrated every mask she’d worn over the past few weeks. She felt as if he saw the real Lindsey—the smart but insecure, slightly lost person who knew she needed to change her life but had no idea what direction to go.
“Earth to Lindsey.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking.”
“You were worrying.” He touched the little crease that formed between her brows when she fretted. “There’s nothing to worry about. Just be with me. Just for now.”
“Zen cowboy, living in the moment.” She touched his lips with one finger, tracing the seam and marveling at how perfectly made he was, like a sculpture. “I like that.”
He stroked her hair back, then cupped her face in both hands and kissed her again. She felt as if the two of them were wrapped in a warm shroud of mutual bliss, and every wall she’d built to protect her heart came tumbling down. If he was using her, she didn’t care. He was making her happier than she’d ever been in her life.
He gently lifted the hem of her T-shirt and swept it up and over her head. She relished his sharp intake of breath when he saw her breasts, cupped, thank goodness, in one of her prettier bits of underwear.
Slowly, he stroked one finger down her chest and into her cleavage, his eyes filled with something she’d never seen there before—a sense of wonder. Reaching back, she started to unclip her bra, but he put out a hand to stop her.
“Jeans first.”
So he was giving orders now? She supposed she should have balked, but she liked it. She liked it a lot.
“All right.” As she stood and unbuckled her belt, she gave him a saucy smile that trembled at the edges with nerves, excitement, and heart-pounding anticipation. “But you have to take off something too.”
His shirt was gone before she could even kick off her boots, and she was momentarily distracted. She’d seen him shirtless before, of course, working in the barn, mowing the lawn, and best of all, playing football with Cody.
But then she’d had to sneak peeks when he wasn’t looking. Now, she had full license to stare, and stare she did. His pecs were square and perfect, with dark nipples and a dusting of hair that teased the taut muscl
es of his abs and disappeared into his jeans. He’d already undone the snap, and she could see a tantalizing V of paler skin in the opening.
With one leg half-out of her jeans, she balanced on the other. She probably looked like a shell-shocked flamingo—until she fell over.
Onto the bed, fortunately. Laughing, Shane caught her and kissed her again, his hands busy helping with her jeans, her bra, her panties. Next came his own, and suddenly, they were both naked, with no barriers between them.
Nothing hidden, no secrets.
His hands stroked her skin, leaving a trail of tingling nerves behind. Starting with her breasts, he traced her curves, lingering in surprising places—the smooth, tender skin at the sides of her breasts, the dip between hip bone and belly, the smooth spot behind her knee. He explored her body in such minute detail, she wondered why she wasn’t embarrassed. Maybe it was because she felt so appreciated. He touched her with reverence and occasionally murmured a soft, wordless sound that sounded to her like approval.
She found her own hands wandering, exploring him in the same way. With Rodger, she’d had goal-oriented sex; she’d wanted a baby, and he’d wanted an orgasm. Then, after Daniel, she’d simply wanted to make him come so he’d leave her alone.
The memory hurt until she remembered that even in the early days, she hadn’t really enjoyed sex with Rodger. She’d wondered then if something was wrong with her, if she didn’t feel what other women felt.
Well, she was feeling it now. Her whole body was alight, every nerve tingling with pleasure. Obviously, Rodger simply hadn’t been man enough for her.
She giggled at the thought and Shane gave her a quizzical smile.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just had a thought.”
He lowered his brows, faking anger. “I told you, no thinking.”
“You said no worrying. But I was just thinking.”
Gently, he closed his teeth on her shoulder. “What were you thinking about?”
She purred. “I was thinking you’re more of a man than I’m used to.”
He flashed a predatory grin that told her she’d been right.
How to Wrangle a Cowboy Page 17
