Tempted by a Cowboy

by Sarah M. Anderson

  She stared at him a moment longer. It shouldn’t bother him that she knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. That went with being the face of the Beaumont Brewery.

  But she didn’t look at him like everyone else did—with that gleam of delight that went with meeting a celebrity in the flesh. Instead, she just looked disappointed.

  Well, she could just keep on looking disappointed. He turned his attention to the most receptive being here—the donkey. “How are you this morning, Betty?”

  When the woman didn’t correct him, he grinned. He’d gotten that part right, at least.

  He rubbed the donkey behind the ears, which resulted in her leaning against his legs and groaning in satisfaction. “Good girl, aren’t you?” he whispered.

  Maybe he’d have to get a little donkey like this. If Betty wasn’t his already.

  Maybe, a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered, that blackout wasn’t worth it.

  He took another swig of coffee.

  He looked back at the woman. Her posture hadn’t changed, but everything about her face had. Instead of a smirk, she was smiling at him—him and the donkey.

  The donkey was hers, he realized. And since he already knew the donkey’s name, he must have met the woman, too.

  Double damn.

  That’s when he realized he was smiling back at her. What had been superior about her had softened into something that looked closer to delight.

  He forgot about not knowing who she was, how she got here or what she was doing with his prize stallion. All he could think was that now things were about to get interesting. This was a dance he could do with his eyes closed—a beautiful woman, a welcoming smile—a good time soon to be had by all.

  Genuine compliment, take two. “She’s a real sweetie, isn’t she? I’ve never seen a donkey this well-behaved.” He took a risk. “You did an amazing job training her.”

  Oh, yeah, that worked much better than the jeans comment had. Her smile deepened as she tilted her head to one side. Soft morning light warmed her face and suddenly, she looked like a woman who wanted to be kissed.

  Whoever she was, this woman was unlike anyone he’d ever met before. Different could be good. Hell, different could be great. She wasn’t a woman who belonged at the clubs but then, he wasn’t at the clubs. He was at his farm and this woman clearly fit in this world.

  Maybe he’d enjoy this break from big-city living more than he’d thought he would. After all, his bed was more than large enough to accommodate two people. So was the hot tub.

  Yes, the week was suddenly looking up.

  But she still hadn’t told him who the hell she was and that was becoming a problem. Kissing an anonymous woman in a dark club? No problem. Kissing a cowgirl who was inexplicably on his ranch in broad daylight?

  Problem.

  He had to bite the bullet and admit he didn’t remember her name. So, still rubbing Betty’s ears, he stuck out a hand. “We got off to a rough beginning.” He could only assume that was true, as she’d opened with a blackout comment. “Let’s start over. I’m Phillip Beaumont. And you are?”

  Some of her softness faded, but she shook his hand with the kind of grip that made it clear she was used to working with her hands. “Jo Spears.”

  That didn’t ring a single damned bell in his head.

  It was only after she’d let go of his hand that she added, with a grin that bordered on cruel, “I’m here to retrain Sun.”

  Three

  “You’re the new trainer?”

  Jo fought hard to keep the grin off her face. She wasn’t entirely sure she succeeded. Even yesterday, when he’d been toasted, she hadn’t been able to surprise Phillip Beaumont. But she’d caught him off guard this morning.

  How bad was his hangover? It had to be killer. She could smell whiskey from where she stood. But she would have never guessed it just by looking at him. Hell, his eyes weren’t even bloodshot. He had a three-day-old scruff on his cheeks that should have looked messy but, on him, made him look better—like a man who worked with his hands.

  Other than that...she let her eyes drift over his body. The jeans weren’t the fancy kind that he’d spent hundreds of dollars to make look old and broken in—they looked like the kind he’d broken in himself. The denim work shirt was much the same. Yes, his brown boots had probably cost a pretty penny once—but they were scuffed and scratched, not polished to a high shine. These were his work clothes and he was clearly comfortable in them.

  The suit he’d had on yesterday had been the outfit of the Phillip Beaumont who went to parties and did commercials. But the Phillip Beaumont who was petting Betty’s ears today?

  This was a cowboy. A real one.

  Heat flooded her body. She forced herself to ignore it. She would not develop a crush or an infatuation or even an admiration for Phillip Beaumont just because he looked good in jeans.

  She’d been right about him. He had no memory of yesterday and he’d spiked his coffee this morning. He was everything she couldn’t allow herself, all wrapped up in one attractive package. She had a job to do. And if she did it well, a reference from Phillip Beaumont would be worth its weight in gold. It’d be worth that smile of his.

  “I believe,” she said with a pointed tone that let him know he wasn’t fooling anyone, “that we established our identities yesterday afternoon.”

  The change was impressive. It only took a matter of seconds for his confusion to be buried beneath a warm smile. “Forgive me.” He managed to look appropriately contrite while also adding a bit of smolder to his eyes. The effect was almost heady. She was not falling for this. Not at all. “I’m just a little surprised. The other trainers have been...”

  “Older? Male? Richard told me about his previous attempts.” She turned her attention back to the horse to hide her confusion. She could not flutter. Too much was at risk here.

  Sun did seem to be calming down. Which meant he hadn’t made that screaming noise in a couple of minutes. He was still racing as if his life depended on it, though. “I think it’s clear that Sun needs something else.”

  “And that’s you?” He kept his tone light and conversational, but she could hear the doubt lurking below the surface.

  The other three men had all been crusty old farts, men who’d been around horses their whole lives. Not like her. “Yup. That’s me.”

  Phillip leaned against the paddock fence. Jo did not like how aware of his body she was. He kicked a foot up on the lowest railing and draped his arms over the top of the fence. It was all very casual—and close enough to touch.

  “So what’s your plan to fix him?”

  She sighed. “As I told you yesterday, I don’t fix horses. No one can fix him.”

  She managed to keep the crack about whether or not he’d remember this conversation tomorrow to herself. She was already pushing her luck with him and she knew it. He was still paying her and, given how big a mess Sun was, she might have enough to put a down payment on her own ranch after this.

  Wouldn’t that be the ultimate dream? A piece of land to call her own, where the Phillip Beaumonts of the world would bring her their messed-up horses. She wouldn’t have to spend days driving across country and showering in a trailer. Betty could run wild and free on her own grass. Her own ranch would be safety and security and she wouldn’t have to deal with people at all. Just horses. That’s what this job could give to her.

  That’s why she needed to work extra hard on keeping her distance from the man who was still close enough to touch.

  He ignored the first part of the statement. “Then what do you do?”

  There was no way to sum up what she did. So she didn’t. “Save him.”

  Because she was so aware of Phillip’s body, she felt the tension take hold of him. She turned her head just enough to look at him ou
t of the corner of her eye. Phillip’s gaze was trained on the half-crazed horse in the paddock. He looked stricken, as if her words had sliced right through all his charm and left nothing but a raw, broken man who owned a raw, broken horse.

  Then he looked at her. His eyes—God, there was so much going on under the surface. She felt herself start to get lost in them, but Sun whinnied, pulling her back to herself.

  She could not get lost in Phillip Beaumont. To do so would be to take that first slippery step back down the slope to lost nights and mornings in strangers’ beds. And there would be no coming back from that this time.

  So she said, in a low voice, “I only save horses.”

  “I don’t need to be saved, thank you very much.”

  Again, the change was impressive. The warm smile that bordered on teasing snapped back onto his face and the honest pain she’d seen in his eyes was gone beneath a wink and twinkle.

  She couldn’t help it. She looked at his coffee mug. “If you say so.”

  His grip tightened on the handle, but that was the only sign he’d gotten her meaning. He probably thought the smell of the coffee masked the whiskey. Maybe it did for regular folks, but not for her.

  “How are you going to save my horse then?” It came out in the same voice he might use to ask a woman on a date.

  It was time to end this conversation before things went completely off the rails. “One day at a time.”

  Let’s see if he catches that, she thought as she opened the gate and slowly walked back into the paddock, Betty trailing at her heels.

  As she closed the gate behind her, she heard Richard come out of the barn. “Mr. Beaumont—you’re up!”

  Good. She wanted more time with Sun alone. The horse had almost calmed down before Phillip showed up. If she could get the animal to stay at a trot...

  That wasn’t happening now. Sun clearly did not like Richard, probably because the older man had been the one to tranquilize him and move him around the most. She was encouraged that, although the horse did freak out any time Phillip showed up, he had sort of settled down this morning as she and Phillip had talked in conversational tones. Sun didn’t have any negative associations with Phillip—he just didn’t like change. That was a good thing to know.

  “Just getting to know the new trainer,” Phillip said behind her. She had to give him credit, he managed not to make it sound dismissive.

  “If you two are going to talk,” she said in a low voice that carried a great distance, “please do so elsewhere. You’re freaking out the horse.”

  There was a pause and she got the feeling that both men were looking at her. Then Richard said, “Now that you’re here, I’d like you to see the new Percheron foals.” That was followed by the sounds of footsteps leading away from the paddock.

  But they weren’t far away when she heard Phillip say, “Are you sure about her?”

  Jo tensed.

  Richard, bless his crusty old heart, came to her defense. As his voice trailed off, she heard him reply, “She came highly recommended. If anyone can fix Sun... She’s our last chance.”

  She couldn’t fix this horse. She couldn’t fix the man, either, but she had no interest in trying. She would not be swayed by handsome faces, broken-in jeans or kind words for Betty.

  She was just here for the horse.

  She needed to remember that.

  * * *

  Phillip woke up early the next day and he knew why. He was hoping there’d be a woman with an attitude standing in a paddock this morning.

  Jo Spears. She was not his type—not physically, not socially. Not even close. He sure as hell remembered her today. How could he have forgotten meeting her the day before? That didn’t matter. What mattered now was that he was dying to see if she was still in that arena, just standing there.

  He hurried through his shower while the coffee brewed. He added a shot of whiskey to keep the headache away and then got a mug for her. While he was at it, he grabbed a couple of carrots from the fridge for the donkey.

  Would Jo still be standing in the middle of that paddock, watching Sun do whatever the hell it was Sun did? Because that’s what she’d done all day yesterday—just stand there. Richard had gotten him up to speed on the farm’s business and he’d spent some time haltering and walking the Percheron foals but he’d always been aware of the woman in the paddock.

  She hadn’t been watching him, which was a weird feeling. Women were always aware of what he was doing, waiting for their opportunity to strike up a conversation. He could make eye contact with a woman when he walked into a club and know that, six hours later, she’d be going back to his hotel with him. All he had to do was wait for the right time for her to make her move. She would come to him. Not the other way around.

  But this horse trainer? He’d caught the way her hard glare had softened and she’d tilted her head when he’d complimented her little donkey. That was the kind of look a woman gave him when she was interested—when she was going to be in his bed later.

  Not the kind of look a woman gave him when she proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the day. And night.

  Phillip Beaumont was not used to being ignored. He was the life of the party. People not only paid attention to what he was doing, who he was doing it with, what he was wearing—hell, who he was tweeting about—but they paid good money to do all of that with him. It was his job, for God’s sake. People always noticed him.

  Except for her.

  He should have been insulted yesterday. But he’d been so surprised by her attitude that he hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to his wounded pride.

  She was something else. A woman apart from others.

  Variety is the spice of life, he thought as he strolled down to the barn. That had to be why he was so damned glad to see her and that donkey in the middle of the paddock again, Sun still doing laps around them both. But, Phillip noted, the horse was only trotting and making a few small bucks with his hind legs. Phillip wasn’t sure he’d seen Sun this calm since...well, since Asia.

  For a moment, he allowed himself to be hopeful. So three other trainers had failed. This Jo Spears might actually work. She might save his horse.

  But then he had to go and ruin Sun’s progress by saying, “Good morning.”

  At the sound of Phillip’s voice, Sun lost it. He reared back, kicking his forelegs and whinnying with such terror that Phillip’s hope immediately crumbled to dust. Betty looked at him and he swore the tiny thing rolled her eyes.

  But almost immediately, Sun calmed down—or at least stopped making that God-awful noise and started running.

  “You got that part right today,” Jo said in that low voice of hers.

  “It’s good?” He looked her over—her legs spread shoulder-width apart, fingers hooked into her belt loops. Everything about her was relaxed but strong. He could imagine those legs and that backside riding high in the saddle.

  And then, because he was Phillip Beaumont, he imagined those legs and that backside riding high in his bed.

  Oh, yeah—it could be good. Might even be great.

  “It’s morning.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and he saw the corner of her mouth curve up into a smile. “Yesterday when you said that, it was technically afternoon.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her. Boy, she was tough. When was the last time someone had tried to make him toe the line? Hell, when was the last time there’d even been a line?

  And there was that smile. Okay, half a smile but still. Jo didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who smiled at a man if she didn’t actually want to. That smile told Phillip that she was interested in him. Or, at the very least, attracted to him. Wasn’t that the same thing?

  “Back at it again?”

  She nodded.

  Sun looped around the whole paddock,
blowing past Phillip with a snort. His instinct was to step back from the fence, but he didn’t want to project anything resembling fear—especially when she was actually inside the fence and he wasn’t.

  She pivoted, her eyes following the horse as he made another lap. Then, when he went back to running along the far side of the paddock again, she made that slow walk over to where Phillip stood.

  Watching her walk was almost a holy experience. Instead of a practiced wiggle, Jo moved with a coiled grace that projected the same strength he’d felt in her handshake yesterday.

  Did she give as good as she got? Obviously, in conversation the answer was yes. But did that apply to other areas?

  She opened the gate and, Betty on her heels, walked out. When the gate closed behind her, she didn’t come to him. She didn’t even turn her head in his direction.

  What would it take to get her to look at him? He could say something witty and crude. That would definitely get her attention. But instead of being scandalous and funny—which was how such comments went over when everyone was happily sloshed at a bar—he had a feeling that Jo might hit him for being an asshole.

  Still, he was interested in that image of her riding him. He was the kind of man who was used to having female company every night. And he hadn’t had any since he’d woken up at the farm.

  He would enjoy spending time in Jo’s company. He couldn’t say why he liked the idea so much—she wouldn’t make anything easy on him.

  But that didn’t bother him. In fact, he felt as if it was a personal challenge—one he was capable of meeting.

  When was the last time he’d chased a woman? He tried to scroll through the jumbled memories but he wasn’t coming up with anyone except...Suzie. Susanna Whaley, British socialite. She’d come from vulgar money—which was to say, by British definition, someone whose family had only gotten rich in the last century. She didn’t care that Phillip was wealthy. She had enough money of her own. And she didn’t care that he’d been famous. Before they’d met, she’d been dating some European prince. Phillip had been forced to work overtime just to get her phone number.