“Why?”
“Because.” He pushed in again, listening for the catch in her breath that meant she was ready. When it came, he slowed, wanting to draw the moment out this time. “I want to see how your eyes change when you’re close, like now.”
“Are you…?”
“Yes.” He drew back ever so slowly and slipped in with practically no force at all. Easy, easy. “Very close.”
She trembled in his grip. “I want to see your eyes, too.”
“It’s too dark.” He held back, but even his lazy strokes were going to get them there very soon, no matter how much he wanted to draw out the process.
“I know how your eyes look.” She gasped as a tremor shook her. “Like blue flames.”
“And yours are like warm chocolate.” She was there, and he couldn’t keep himself from going with her, moving faster, pushing deeper, trying to touch that part of her that would make her his. “So rich…so hot.”
“Quinn.” His name was a moan on her lips. “Kiss me, or the world will hear how I feel right now.”
He took her mouth with some regret. Maybe the world shouldn’t hear just yet, but he’d like to. When he carried her once more into the whirlwind, he wished he could listen as she moaned and cried out his name. He wanted all the sounds he’d helped create as she trembled in his arms.
Because those sounds might include the words, “I love you.”
JO CLUNG to Quinn for many long moments, savoring the closeness and the incredible pleasure. But at last he eased back and lifted her gently to the ground. She leaned against the tree, feeling weak and just the slightest bit bowlegged, while he turned and got himself together.
When he turned back to her, he had picked up her silk boxers from the ground. “Want some help putting these on?” he said with a smile in his voice.
Incredibly, considering all she’d experienced, a shiver of desire went through her. “No, thank you.” She took the boxers from him and put them on. If she let him help, he might begin to think she was insatiable. Which she might be, but she still didn’t want him thinking she was. Besides, as it was she’d have trouble sitting a horse tomorrow. Much more of Quinn’s loving and she’d be crippled. Happy, but crippled.
“Stay there,” he said. “I think I heard Fred leave the house. I’ll go make sure.” Quinn left the shadow of the tree and crept around the house.
Once he was no longer holding her, kissing her, making her forget everything but his loving, she had the unwelcome chance to think about their situation. He sounded really serious about disguising himself so he could come back and see her. The trouble was, she didn’t want him to be an occasional visitor, she wanted him to be a full-time, old-fashioned husband. There, she’d finally admitted it to herself.
She loved him, and not only because he was, as the saying went, hung like a horse. That was a nice bonus, but she’d fallen in love before she discovered that pleasant reality. She’d fallen in love with his courage, his generosity and his sense of fun. To have him drop in once in a while would break her heart.
It could very well break his, too. The man she loved wouldn’t be happy with that arrangement for long, but he was an investment banker, not a cowboy. He might want her, in fact he obviously wanted her very much, but he didn’t want this life-style full of creepy-crawlies, belligerent horses and saddle sores. She couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his career to live with her in Montana, but if she didn’t cut their relationship off right now, he might get in deep enough to consider such a move only to regret it later. She hated the thought of hurting him, but it was the only way.
Quinn walked to the tree. “He’s gone back to the bunkhouse,” he said. “The coast is clear.” He slipped his arms beneath her slicker and pulled her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “But I don’t want to let you go. Listen, maybe I could use colored contacts and glasses. And a beard.”
She drew back and gazed at him. Maybe it was just as well she couldn’t see his face in the darkness. That made it easier to say what must be said. “Forget the disguise idea, Quinn. It wouldn’t work.”
“That’s what you think. You’d be amazed what facial hair can—”
“No, I mean it wouldn’t work for me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find another man to love, but if I do, he needs to be somebody who belongs in this country, somebody I can share ranch life with. If you keep showing up, I’ll naturally keep wanting you, but you belong in New York, not out on some remote Montana ranch. We both need to cut our losses, Quinn.”
He gasped and stepped back as if she’d slapped him. He seemed to struggle with his breathing for a moment, and then he finally spoke. “Okay, if that’s the way you see it.” His voice was raw with hurt. “I guess I thought we’d created something worth hanging on to.”
“I will hang on to it,” she said softly. “I’ll never forget this night as long as I live.”
“But you never want another one?”
She braced herself against his agonized plea. “Not when it means I have to keep watching you head to New York when it’s over. And you have to do that, Quinn. We both know it. That’s what you’re trained for, what you’re used to.”
He turned away from her. “Yeah. That’s me. Wall Street or bust.”
She touched his arm. “Please understand how much you mean to me. How much what we’ve shared means to me.”
“Yeah.” His voice was thick with sorrow.
Oh, God. If Quinn started getting emotional, so would she. She’d be bawling her eyes out in a minute if she didn’t get out of there. “I’d better get back to the house.”
“Okay.”
She gave his arm one last squeeze, grabbed the blanket and ran to the house. The quick movement told her she would indeed be very sore tomorrow. But it would be nothing to equal the pain in her heart.
QUINN STOOD in the shadows feeling as if somebody had come after him with a bullwhip. He knew he wasn’t much of a cowboy, but she didn’t have to be so brutal about it. Apparently he was so bad that she never even considered he might someday be of use on this ranch. She thought he was so hopeless that even she and Fred couldn’t teach him enough to make his sorry ass worth something around here.
Nope, she was sending him right back to New York where he belonged. And she would look for a real cowboy. Like Hastings. Quinn gritted his teeth. He’d never met Hastings, and the guy was probably a decent human being, but Quinn was really beginning to hate the bastard.
He started to the bunkhouse and tripped over something. He picked up the flashlight she’d dropped when he’d grabbed her from behind. Damn, but her breasts were silky, and her…no. He couldn’t think about any of that or he’d go crazy.
He glanced at the flashlight and remembered seeing it on the table in the hallway. Maybe he should quietly return it so it wouldn’t become a topic of discussion. Tomorrow would be weird enough without having to explain the mysterious roving flashlight.
When he reached the porch he took off his boots so he wouldn’t make noise. The unlocked door still amazed him, but with all the nocturnal comings and goings around the place, a key would be a nuisance. And he supposed being surrounded by all these acres of rangeland kept the threat of crime very low.
He stood in the darkened entryway and battled temptation. Despite what Jo had said, if he went up those stairs and climbed into her bed, she wouldn’t refuse him. He might be out of condoms, but there were plenty of other ways to find mutual satisfaction, and his hunger for her still raged. But that plan wouldn’t come to pass as long as he had a shred of pride left.
He started to set the flashlight on the small table by the door when another thought occurred to him. He had a flashlight, so he wouldn’t have to turn on a lamp and risk having Fred or Benny notice it. Okay, so he wasn’t a cowboy, but he was a hell of a good hand with figures. If Jo didn’t lock her front door she sure as hell didn’t lock her desk.
He had a few hours before daybreak. It might be enough time to work some magic wit
h Jo’s books.
QUINN DIDN’T show up for breakfast, which was fine with Jo. Despite the open kitchen window that Emmy Lou had raised to let in a warm spring breeze, the air was thick with tension as Emmy Lou and Fred exchanged looks, and Benny, clueless, chattered away about the day’s events. Finally Fred suggested that Benny go polish the tack in preparation for the rodeo, and Benny breezed happily off to do his chores.
“I’ll be getting down to the barn, myself.” Jo pushed back her chair. “Sherry will be here for the insemination any minute.” She’d never blushed when she’d talked about such matters before, but she blushed now. Dammit.
“Hold on a second, Jo,” Fred said.
Jo sat down. “Listen, if it’s about last night, that’s none of my business. I’m happy for both of you. I—”
“It’s about last night.” Emmy Lou cradled her mug of coffee. “But not what you think. We’re not kids, and we won’t ask for your permission. If our behavior isn’t to your liking, then we’ll hire on somewhere else, right, Fred?”
Fred stared at her. “You’d leave this place on account of me?”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Emmy Lou grinned. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I just never thought…” He shook his head, a smile lifting the corners of his gray mustache.
“We were going to broach another subject, weren’t we, Fred?” Emmy Lou prompted.
“Yeah.” Fred hunkered over his coffee. “Yeah, we were. Jo, you know we didn’t think much of Dick.”
Emmy Lou cleared her throat. “Except to imagine him swinging by his—”
“Em.” Fred sent her a look of warning.
“I’ll bet Jo’s thought of that, too,” Emmy Lou said a touch defensively.
“I have.”
“Anyway,” Fred continued, “we think you should hang on to this one.”
“This one?”
“The greenhorn,” Fred said. “He has heart, Jo. More’n Dick ever dreamed of. I know he can’t ride a lick or rope worth a damn, but he’s got guts, and that’s what counts. We could teach him—at least, I think we could. He’s not real talented, but he’s determined. And I have to say I was impressed because he had sense enough to…uh, use protection last night.” Fred gulped his coffee and choked.
Emmy Lou pounded on Fred’s back while Jo sat there getting very red and wondering how Fred could possibly know such an intimate thing. Surely Quinn hadn’t left evidence lying around.
Once Fred calmed down, Emmy Lou glanced at Jo. “Quinn borrowed from Fred’s supply,” she said gently. “Fred noticed because he was down to four, and two were missing.”
“Oh, my God.” Jo buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m having this discussion with you two.”
Fred still sounded a little wheezy, but he seemed to want to get his message across. “It ain’t always easy to talk about. But Emmy Lou and me saw you make one mistake by takin’ up with Dick, and we don’t want to see you make another one by lettin’ the greenhorn go.”
Tears pushed at the back of Jo’s eyes. “That’s the sweetest, most considerate and wonderfully protective attitude, and I thank you both. But there’s a tiny problem. Quinn doesn’t want to live here and be a cowboy.”
Fred looked astonished. “Why not?”
“Because he’s a New York investment banker. He chose that, the same way you chose to work on ranches. He wouldn’t mind coming to see me once in a while, but he’s not interested in moving to the Bar None.”
“He said that?” Fred scratched his head, still not comprehending.
“Not in those words, but it’s very obvious. I think it’s a bit too primitive for him.”
“What’s primitive?” Quinn asked from the doorway.
Jo glanced up and couldn’t seem to remember what she’d been saying. He looked tired, but still gorgeous. Despite everything she’d told herself, she wanted to walk straight into his arms.
Fred stood. “I got business at the barn. Sherry’ll be here soon.”
“And I have to check on something in my garden,” Emmy Lou said, leaving the table on Fred’s heels. “There’s coffee and toast and a few hash browns left. I’m sure Jo could scramble you some eggs.” She hurried out of the room.
Quinn glanced after them as the front door closed. “I sure know how to clear a room.”
“I need to get going, too.” She pushed back her chair.
“Before you do, I have something to talk to you about.”
“What?” Her heart began to pound. Maybe he wanted to make some sacrifices so they could be together. She couldn’t imagine how it would work, but then she didn’t know exactly what investment bankers did. Maybe he could investment bank in Bozeman.
“Well, I—”
“Yo, Brian!” The shout came from the front yard.
Jo groaned. She did not feel like facing Dick this morning.
Quinn walked over to peer out the window. “He’s riding a bike.”
“You’re kidding.” Jo got up to look. Sure enough, Dick was riding back and forth in front of the porch on—Jo could hardly believe it—a pink girl’s bike that was too small for him.
“Hey, Brian! Got a minute?” Dick called. “My heart rate’s up, and I need to keep it elevated, buddy. It ain’t time for my cooldown, or I’d stop riding and come on in. But I gotta talk to you.”
“Coming!” Quinn called through the window. “I’d better go or he’s liable to ride around out there forever.”
“He might,” Jo agreed. “He functions on about a sixth-grade level.”
“Come with me?”
When he gave her that look she couldn’t deny him anything. “Okay.”
Quinn walked out on the porch, and Jo followed. “Nice bike, Dick,” Quinn said.
“Found it at a garage sale. It’ll do until the Nautilus equipment arrives.”
“Nautilus?” Jo asked. “You’re getting a home gym?”
“Sure am.” Dick grinned at her as he pedaled across the yard, his knees sticking out awkwardly. “After people see me in this movie, I might be getting other offers. Gotta stay buff, you know. ’Course, I don’t ride this thing where my men can see me.”
“Of course not,” Quinn said. “What’s on your mind, Dick?”
“Me and Doobie got to thinkin’.”
“There’s a scary thought,” Jo muttered.
“Yeah?” Quinn said. “About what?”
“We understand you can’t be in the rodeo and all, on account of you being such a valuable property, but we figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to lead off the grand parade.”
Jo remembered Quinn’s wild ride on Hyper and smelled disaster in the air. “Oh, you know, Dick, that’s a wonderful idea, but Brian really shouldn’t be on a horse right now.”
“Why not?”
Jo thought quickly. “Well, he recently spent some time in the tropics and went swimming in questionable water that gave him a real bad case of jock itch.”
“I’ll do it,” Quinn said, glaring at her. “I’m completely cured.”
“Don’t be a hero,” she said, glaring back at him. “You know you’re not a hundred percent.”
“Close enough,” Quinn said.
“You’re sure?” Dick asked. “That’s nasty stuff. I remember one time I got it, and I tell you, I scratched till I thought my—”
“I’ll be fine,” Quinn said. “Plan on me doing it.”
“Great. Well, gotta get on down the road. Still got my lifting program to do. Until the Nautilus stuff comes I’m using a broomstick with a six-pack strapped on each end. Oh, and I drink a glass of raw eggs every morning.”
Jo grimaced.
“Good idea,” Quinn said.
“I thought so. See you.” Dick pedaled off, humming the theme from Rocky.
Quinn gazed after him. “So you don’t think I can ride well enough to lead the grand parade?”
“Maybe. Depending on the horse you choose. But you’re taking a big chance, Quinn. I think
you’d be better off if you—”
“Said my jock itch flared up again?” He sounded testy.
“I’m sorry. It was the first thing I thought of, and I couldn’t very well say you were saddle sore, could I?”
“And what makes you think I am?”
“The way you walked out on this porch.”
“You’re walking with a certain amount of care yourself this morning,” he said.
Her cheeks warmed.
“Will you be riding in this grand parade?” he asked.
“Yes. All of the contestants ride in it, and I always do the barrel racing event.”
“Barrel racing, huh? And how will that feel after…last night?”
She couldn’t look at him. “I admit that I’m a little tender.”
“Then I guess we’ll suffer together. Because I’m going to lead that grand parade regardless of my delicate condition.”
“Okay, then I’d recommend riding Butternut. He’s—”
“Thanks, but I’ll pick my own horse.”
Jo groaned. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yep. I’ll be lookin’ good. I’m riding Hyper.”
14
HIS CROTCH hurt like hell. Quinn sat atop a restless Hyper at the entrance to the small rodeo arena outside Ugly Bug and wished he’d used the jock itch excuse, after all. But when Jo had automatically assumed he couldn’t even lead a sedate little parade, he’d taken offense. He’d decided he had something to prove to her before he left on the red-eye tonight.
Besides, after watching people steer horses down Fifth Avenue during parades in New York City, he figured there was nothing to it. This would be even easier because it was contained inside a fence.
He hadn’t counted on the fact that the leader had to carry an American flag big enough to wrap a body in. And he hadn’t counted on wind.
Hyper jumped sideways with every snap and billow of the massive flag. And with each jump, Quinn was painfully reminded of his manly attributes. Jo was somewhere behind him in line, along with Benny, Dick and a bunch of other real cowboys and cowgirls. Mostly they’d behaved themselves, and only a couple had asked for autographs, which he’d politely postponed until after the parade. With luck he’d sprain his wrist in the next twenty minutes, because he’d never gotten around to practicing Hastings’ signature.
With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet Page 15
