Tempted by a Cowboy

by Sarah M. Anderson

  There’d been something peaceful about it. She watched the wind blow through the pastures and storms blow in. She watched her dad saddle the horses and her mom bake pies.

  The world had felt...okay. She’d felt okay in it. She’d never been able to say that before. And then, when Oaty had survived that fire, she’d watched him and figured out what he’d been trying to say.

  But getting to the point where she could understand a horse as messed up as Oaty had taken her well over a year. It was ridiculous to think that a man like Phillip Beaumont—known for his wild ways—would be able to just stand here and pay attention because she asked him to half an hour ago.

  And he couldn’t. He was trying, that she could see, but within fifteen minutes, his fingers were tapping against his legs, beating out a staccato rhythm of impatience.

  Not surprisingly, Sun picked up on this. His hoofbeats against the ground nearly matched Phillip’s rhythm.

  “Stop,” she said, reaching over and pulling his hand away from his leg.

  Which meant she was now holding his hand.

  His fingers wrapped around hers. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound particularly sorry.

  She stood very still. Aside from handshakes, she hadn’t touched a man in so long. The feeling of something as simple as holding hands was...

  It was a lot. Heat bloomed from where his skin touched hers, which set off a chain reaction across her body. Her nipples tightened. They went hard in a way she’d forgotten about. Her heart rate picked up and she knew she was blushing but she couldn’t help it.

  Skin on skin. It was only a light touch, but for the first time in a very long time, desire coursed through her.

  Oh, no—this was bad.

  She couldn’t pull her hand away. The sensations flooding her body—the weight growing heavy between her legs, the heat clouding her thinking—left her unable to do anything but stand there and keep touching him.

  As she spun out of control, both Phillip and Sun seemed to be calming down. Instead of drumming his fingers against his leg, he went to...

  To rubbing his thumb against her skin.

  Jo’s head swam as desire hit her hard. One of the most attractive, wealthy, available men in the country was stroking the back of her hand.

  Once, it’d taken far less than this—coffee in the morning, horses in the afternoon, a light touch—to get her back to a room. Or into a car. Or even just up against a wall. Once, all a guy would have had to do was buy her a drink and maybe tell her she was hot. Maybe. That’d been all the reason she needed to go off with another man she didn’t know, to wake up in a place she couldn’t remember.

  How was Phillip doing this to her? He hadn’t pinned her against a wall or bitten her in that space between her neck and her shoulder or anything. He was just holding her hand! It shouldn’t make her think of being pinned against walls and being bitten or touched. It just shouldn’t.

  In her confusion, she made the mistake of looking at him. He turned his head at almost the same time and smiled. That was it. Nothing but a nice, sexy, hot smile. For her.

  Ten long years of no touching and no smiling caught up to Jo in milliseconds. She wanted him to pin her against the wall and bite that place on her neck. And a few other things. She wanted to feel his hands on a whole bunch of places. She wanted to know exactly how good this cowboy was.

  This—this was exactly why she’d abstained from men. Something as small as a single touch having this much effect on her—it was like an alcoholic saying he could have one sip and be just fine.

  Men, like drinking, were an all-or-nothing proposition for her. That’s just the way it was. She was not going to fall off the wagon because Phillip Beaumont was gorgeous, thoughtful, rich and worried about his horse. She’d worked too hard to be the person she was now.

  The look in his eyes got deeper. Warmer. And damn it all if it didn’t make him look even hotter.

  He was close enough that Jo could lean forward and kiss him.

  Thank God, Sun saved her. He came to a halt in front of them, clearly trying to figure out what new thing the humans were doing.

  Which made Phillip turn those beautiful eyes away from her. “Hey,” he said in a quiet, strong voice that sent shivers racing down the back of her neck. “He stopped.”

  What’s more than that, the horse didn’t start back up when Phillip spoke. He just stood there. Then he walked over to where the buckets were. He stuck his nose into the food bucket and then looked back at Phillip. It was an amazing development.

  “He wants a carrot,” she told Phillip.

  “Should I give him one?”

  “Go ahead and put one in the bucket, but make sure he sees you’ve got more. After all, he did calm down and ask politely. He’s earned a reward.”

  At this observation, Phillip turned a dazzling smile in her direction. “Do I get a reward, too?” he said in that same strong voice as the pad of his thumb moved over her hand again.

  This time, the shivers were stronger.

  His mouth settled from the dazzling smile into the grin that was so wicked she couldn’t help but think about him scraping his teeth against her bare flesh as he pulled the snaps of her shirt apart....

  “No,” she gritted out, hoping she didn’t sound as if she was about to start swooning.

  She wasn’t fooling him. She wasn’t even fooling herself. He leaned forward, the air between them crystalizing into something so sharp it almost cut her. His grip on her hand tightened as he tried to pull her toward him. “Why not? I calmed down. I asked politely.”

  “You didn’t do it on your own.” She was desperate to stop touching him and completely unable to do so. “You have to earn a reward.”

  “And how do I do that?” Somehow, he managed to make it sound innocent and sensual all at the same time.

  “Carrots for the horse. Then tack. Done right.”

  She jerked her hand out of his grasp, desperate.

  He leaned forward, the air between them growing hot. He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him and if that happened, would she be able to control herself? Or would she be gone? Again?

  His gaze searched hers. God, she probably looked like a deer in the headlights—blinded by his sheer sex appeal.

  “One condition—I get to choose my own reward.” His voice dropped to a dangerous level—silky and sensual and promising all sorts of good things. “I don’t like carrots.” Then he turned and began to walk to the bucket. Slowly.

  Sun removed himself to the far side of the paddock and paced slowly. Jo knew she should be thrilled at this progress. The horse and the man were actually communicating.

  So why did she feel so terrible? No, not terrible. Weird. Her skin felt hot and her knees had yet to stop shaking and her heart was pounding fast.

  Then Phillip was walking back toward her.

  Oh, God. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough for this. She’d spent the last ten years convincing herself that she could get through the nights without a drink or a man or a man holding a drink.

  Phillip Beaumont was going to be her undoing.

  “So,” he said when he reached her again. He waved at the saddles. “What are we doing with the tack?”

  “Cleaning it.”

  Instead of looking as if he had her right where he wanted her, he looked more off-balance. Good. She shouldn’t be the only one off-balance here. “It’s...not dirty.”

  “Do you want to ride?” His eyes widened in surprise and she realized what she’d said. “I mean, the horse. Do you want to ride the horse? Sun.”

  Sweet merciful heavens, she could not be embarrassing herself more if she tried.

  “Yes.” But the way Phillip said it left the question of which kind of riding he was interested in doing wide open.

  “Then you
clean tack.”

  Seven

  What did he want for a reward?

  Phillip knew. He wanted to open his door tonight with a bottle of wine chilling on the table and then skip dinner entirely and head straight to the hot tub. He’d love to see how Jo’s body filled out a bikini—or nothing at all. Nude was always fashionable.

  He’d love his reward to go on for most of the evening. It’d been close to a week since he’d first woken up alone in his own bed and he missed having a woman to spend the evening with.

  But that wasn’t necessarily the reward he’d ask for.

  He might ask for a kiss. That was a pretty big might. Her hand—warm and gentle but firm in his—had seemed to say that she was interested in a kiss. Combined with the entirely feminine blush that had pinked her cheeks? Yeah, a kiss would be good.

  But he had to earn it first—by cleaning saddles, of all things. When was the last time he’d had to work so hard for something as simple as a kiss? He shouldn’t be having fun. He should be frustrated that she was being so damned stubborn or insulted that his considerable charms were falling on mostly deaf ears.

  But he wasn’t. It struck him as beyond strange that he was actually enjoying the slow process of seducing Jo Spears.

  So he cleaned a not-dirty saddle.

  Normally, Phillip did not enjoy cleaning tack. It was his second least-favorite job on the farm, after shoveling stalls, the one he’d always had to do when he messed up.

  But instead of feeling like a punishment, sitting on a blanket in the middle of a paddock taking apart a saddle and wiping it down—next to Jo—wasn’t awful. In fact, it bordered on pleasant. The weather was beautifully sunny, with a bright breeze that ruffled the leaves on the trees.

  As Phillip cleaned his saddle, he kept half an eye on the horse as he moved around the paddock. Sometimes he walked, sometimes he trotted, but he didn’t race or buck or generally act like a horse that was out of control. That made Phillip feel pretty good.

  But what made him feel better was the woman sitting next to him.

  He had been patient and waited for her to touch him first. True, he hadn’t been expecting her to grab his hand. He hadn’t realized his hand had actually been moving. He’d been focused on not spooking Sun and trying to be still like she was. It’d taken a lot more energy than he’d anticipated. Who knew that standing still would be so hard?

  Until she’d taken his hand. He realized she hadn’t meant it as a come-on—but the way she’d reacted to his touch? The wall between them had busted wide open. She was attracted to him. He was interested in her.

  Things were moving along nicely.

  He kept cleaning the saddle until his feet started to fall asleep. Boots were good for many things, but sitting on the ground wasn’t one of them. “How long do we have to keep doing this?”

  She leaned over to appraise his work. “Nice job.”

  “I had several years of practice.”

  “Really?” She stretched out her legs, which looked even longer and more muscular at this angle. What would it feel like to have legs that strong wrapped around his back? And how many saddles would he have to clean to find out? “How come?”

  “Every time I did something wrong, I had to either clean tack or muck stalls. And when you’re a hyper kid who’s never had to follow rules before...” He shrugged. It was the truth, of course, but...he had never admitted that to another person.

  He cleared his throat. “I cleaned a lot of tack. But it was good. I can harness the entire team of Percherons to the wagon myself.”

  She turned to look at him, an odd half-smile on her face.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that none of this,” she replied, looking at the pile of polished leather they’d worked through, “fits with your public persona.”

  “There’s more to me than just parties.”

  She grinned at him—a grin he was starting to recognize. She was about to give him some crap and she was going to enjoy doing it. He braced himself for the worst, but oddly, the fact that she was having fun made it not so bad.

  “What would your lady friends say if they saw you sitting in the dirt?”

  That’s what she said. What he heard was superiority mixed in with a healthy dose of jealousy.

  Jealous because she was interested.

  Excellent. But he needed to move carefully here.

  “I doubt they’d understand. Which is why they’re not here.” Only her. Before she could reload, he took control of the conversation. “Tell me about Betty.”

  Jo looked up, finding where her small donkey was now drinking from the bucket set at her height. “What do you want to know?”

  “How long have you had her?” Yes, this was part of showing Jo there was more to him than a good time at a party or a family fortune. But he had to admit, he was curious.

  “About ten years.”

  He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the short answer, but something in her tone indicated that perhaps not too many people had asked. “Where’d you get her?”

  “My granny gave her to me.” Jo sighed, as if the conversation were unavoidable and yet still painful. “I had...a rough patch. Granny thought I needed someone to keep me company. Most people would have gotten a puppy, but not Lina Throws Spears. She showed up with a donkey foal that only weighed twenty pounds.” She grinned at the memory. “Itty Bitty Betty. We’ve been together ever since.”

  Phillip let that information sink in. There was a lot of it. How old was Jo? Given the faint lines around her eyes, he’d guess she wasn’t in her twenties anymore.

  What sort of rough patch had she had? Had someone broken her heart? That would certainly explain why she worked so hard at keeping that wall up between her and everyone else.

  Letting Suzie go had hurt more than he’d expected—and that was before he’d read about her engagement to that prince. But to have a true broken heart, a man had to be in love.

  After watching his parents and all of his stepparents and every horrid thing they did to each other in the name of love, Phillip would never do something as stupid as give his heart to anyone. Falling in love meant giving someone power to hurt you.

  No love, no hurt. Just a long list of one-night stands that satisfied his needs quite well. Love was for the delusional. Lust was something honest and real and easily solved without risking hearts or family fortunes.

  Also, what kind of name was Lina Throws Spears? Jo didn’t look like an Indian—not like the ones in the movies, anyway. Her skin was tanned, but he’d always assumed that was because of the time she spent in the sun. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was medium brown, not jet black.

  Then there were her eyes. They were a pretty hazel color, light and soft in a woman who otherwise could appear hard.

  On the other hand, there was that whole communing-with-the-animals thing she did. That certainly fit with his preconceived notions of American Indians.

  “Yes?”

  He quickly looked away. “What?”

  Jo sighed again. “Go on. You know you’re dying to ask.”

  “Throws Spears?”

  “Granny—and my dad—are full-blooded Lakota Sioux. My mom’s white. Any other questions?”

  “You shortened your name?”

  “My dad did.”

  Her tone brooked no warmth. Right. The topic of family was off-limits. He got that. His own family tree was so complicated that instead of a sturdy, upright oak it resembled a banyan tree that grew new trunks everywhere.

  It was time to change the subject. “Where does Betty sleep?”

  “If it’s nice out, she stays in a pasture, but she’s house trained,” she said, nodding to the trailer.

  “Really?”

 
That was a nice smile. “Really. I made a harness for her when we’re driving. She sits up front. Likes to stick her nose out the window.”

  This bordered on the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “And you’re sure she’s a donkey and not a dog in disguise?”

  “Very sure.” She shot him a look that seemed to be the opposite of the hard tone she’d had when discussing her family. “Tomorrow, I’ll saddle her up.”

  He looked at the small, fuzzy donkey. He couldn’t quite imagine Betty with a saddle. “Really?” When Jo nodded, he added, “I...I look forward to seeing that.”

  She grinned. “Everyone does. Come on.” Jo leaned back and stood, stretching her back. Which thrust out her chest.

  From his angle, the view was amazing. His body responded with enthusiasm. Damn. This was going to make standing up even more difficult. “Where are we going?” It’d be nice if hot tubs or beds were the answer but somehow he knew it wouldn’t be.

  He managed to get to his feet, then leaned back down to grab his saddle. He’d spent close to an hour and a half getting the damned thing polished to a high shine.

  “Leave it,” Jo instructed.

  “But I cleaned it.”

  “Leave it,” she repeated in that no-nonsense tone. Then she began to walk to the gate.

  “Better be a damn good reward,” he muttered as he left all his hard work behind. He had a bad feeling about this.

  Jo held the gate open for him, which meant it wasn’t his fault that he had to pass close enough to her that he could count the freckles on her nose. She swung the gate behind him, but didn’t step away. He didn’t either. Close enough to touch, they both leaned against the now-closed gate. “Explain to me why we left the saddles in there? You know Sun is probably going to destroy them. Do you have any idea how much they cost?”

  “You’re already showing him you’re not going to shoot him with a tranq gun or do anything else scary. Now you’re going to show him that saddles and bridles are also not scary.”

  “But—”

  “Shh.” She had her eyes trained on the horse. “Just watch.”