A TOUCH IN TIME
by
McKenna Chase
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A Touch in Time
COPYRIGHT 2011 by McKenna Chase
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Praise for author McKenna Chase:
“Someone hand me a fan! McKenna Chase writes red-hot stories of steamy romance and even steamier sex! Caribbean Wild is HOT!!”
~Award-winning author, Jana Mercy
“Her Big Bad Wolf brings a new twist to a classic fairy tale. It has all the charm of the childhood story with a wickedly sexy turn. McKenna Chase & Jana Mercy do a fantastic job in this quirky, sinful, erotic read. I enjoyed it immensely and would recommend it to anyone who is looking for a humorous adult take on the Big Bad Wolf.”
~Pamela Denise, Romance Junkies
Her Big Bad Wolf - “This is not your Mom’s fairy tale. The authors have taken a girl’s fairy tale and made it a woman’s hot dream. I found the story enchanting and consumed the story in one sitting. This is definitely one hot story that sizzles and has earned itself a place on my favorite’s bookshelf.”
~Delane, Coffee Time Romance
Sweet Pleasure – Erotic Contemporary Romance – Rating: 4 Cups
Sweet Pleasure lives up to its title. It is one hot romance that is full of spiciness, sassiness, and a passion that you can practically feel oozing off the pages. Ms. Chase really knows how to reel the reader in and keep them interested. The way Kristin goes after Jake full throttle intensifies the heat between the two main characters. What a red-hot read this is!
Caution: You may want to sit by the fan or air conditioner when reading this tale, as you will experience hot flashes, sweaty palms, and intense passion.
Danielle - reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More
CHAPTER ONE
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here,” Brianna Donovan muttered with a frown as she and her best friend, Marissa, settled into their front row seats at the Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo.
“You’ll be thanking me for it later when I introduce you to some of those hotties behind the gate,” her friend said with a wave of her hand.
Brianna followed her gaze to the leather and denim clad cowboys gathered near the chute. Several of which Marissa knew up close and personal.
“I know you’re trying to jump-start my sex life, but I’d rather not have it be with your leftovers.” Even if it had been months since she’d had any sexual satisfaction that wasn’t brought about by her own hand.
Marissa laughed. “Come on, Bri, I haven’t slept with all of them. I left you a few good ones to choose from.”
“They’re cute, but you know I like my men tall.” At least taller than her own five foot eight inches.
“I know,” her friend said with a nod. “Tall, dark and handsome. At least that used to be your type before Alex screwed with your heart. Now you won’t give any man a chance.”
The break-up had not only made her wary with her heart, it had also affected her sexual self-confidence, Alex having pointed out her every flaw, mostly physical. “I don’t need a man to make me happy.”
Marissa snorted. “You and I both know it’s more fun to have a playmate on the playground with you. Especially one who likes to peek under your dress while you’re on the swing.”
“I’m here aren’t I?” she said in frustration. To let her friend find her a playmate. Whether she was ready for it or not. All she had to do was go about relationships the way Marissa did. Enjoy the sex without getting emotionally involved.
“Okay, getting back to the height issue,” her friend said, pulling Brianna from her thoughts. “Those cowboys might not be as tall as you like, but they wear their jeans tight and they’ve got abs that beg a girl to run her tongue over them.”
Brianna groaned. Her friend wasn’t playing fair. She knew she was a sucker for tight jeans and great abs.
A bell sounded and the chute gate slid open. The first rider shot out, seated astride one very pissed off bull. The cowboy’s thighs clenched against the snorting beast in an eight second war of wills.
Brianna found herself wondering what it would be like to have a man ride her with that same amount of determination. The thought of it had her squirming in her seat.
“Like what you see?”
She turned to her friend. “What?”
“That’s Grant. Definitely worth the ride.”
Brianna rolled her eyes. Another of Marissa’s conquests. “I need a beer,” she said, reaching for her purse.
“No,” her friend argued. “What you need is to ditch that e-reader you bought. Ever since you got it you’ve been comparing every man you come across to those tall, dark and handsome heroes you’ve become addicted to. They’re fiction, Bri. As in not real. Probably written by women like yourself who still believe there’s such a thing as a perfect orgasm.”
“I know the difference between real and fiction,” Brianna whispered back. So she liked to fantasize about the perfect man. That didn’t make her delusional.
Her friend quirked a perfectly plucked brow.
“Fine,” she conceded, ignoring the stares around her. “I wish I’d been born a hundred years ago. Back when men were men and lived by a genuine code of honor that doesn’t exist today. Happy now?”
“That’s it,” Marissa exclaimed. “You are not reading another book!”
Brianna stood, dragging her purse strap up over her shoulder. “I’m making that beer run. You want one?”
“Yes. Two in fact, because my best friend has lost her mind and is driving me to drink.”
Brianna couldn’t help but laugh. Marissa had been a drama major for a reason. She bent to whisper to her friend, “I will get back in the game, but it’s going to be at my own pace. And I will have that perfect orgasm.”
That said she made her way along the railing to the steps. She was almost there when the arena lights began to flicker like strobe lights all around her. She shut her eyes against the dizzying effect the pulsing beams had on her. A buzzing sound filled her ears, growing louder. She looked to Marissa and the rest of the crowd who seemed completely unaffected by the almost blinding flashes. Their attention was drawn to the rider in the arena.
She stepped back against the railing in an attempt to steady herself, but was closer to it than she thought. Arms flailing, she fought against the momentum that carried her helplessly over the top rail. With a terrified shriek, Brianna found herself plunging headfirst toward the dirt-packed arena floor below.
* * *
“Ma’am? You okay?” A gloved hand pushed the hair from her face.
Brianna moaned softly as she struggled to open her eyes. The bright glare of the arena lights had her squinting in protest.
“Where the hell did you come from?” a deep, very masculine voice asked beside her.
A shadow moved over her face, allowing her to finally open her eyes.
Worried brown eyes stared back at her from beneath the dusty brim of a cowboy hat.
Her fingers curled into the dry dirt at her sides. Dirt? Then she remembered she hadn’t been in her seat, she’d been going for a beer when she lost her balance. “I...I fell.”
“Obviously,” the man replied with a frown as his hands moved over her.
She trie
d to pull away, but didn’t have the strength. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure nothing is broken.” His fingers eased up her sides, carefully examining her ribs, skimming the sides of her breasts as they moved on to her arms.
Her eyes widened, stunned by the unexpected flicker of desire his innocent touch had caused.
“You’re wearing pants,” he noted as if surprised as his searching fingers moved lower to the curve of her hips.
She looked up at him, taking in the dark hair that curled out from under his hat and the five o’clock shadow that covered his firm jaw. His shoulders were wide and his arms muscular, no doubt from riding bulls. His sleeves were rolled up, displaying corded forearms sprinkled lightly with dark hair.
She no longer felt the pounding in her head. Instead, her senses were centered on the feel of his large hands smoothing up one leg and then down the other and the pleasurable ache his touch had awakened. Something she’d never experienced with Alex.
“I make it a habit to wear pants when I go out in public,” she said with a forced smile.
He muttered something under his breath and shook his head. Then he pulled his hands away. “Nothing feels broken. You hurting anywhere?”
Only if he counted the ache between her legs.
“I...I’m okay,” she insisted. “I just feel like an idiot for falling over the railing and holding up the rodeo.” She attempted to sit upright but the world around her began to spin, drawing a groan from her lips.
He slid a supportive arm behind her shoulders as she sank back onto the ground. “The rodeo?”
Why was he looking at her like she was crazy? “As in clowns, bulls, hotdogs and cowboys in tight jeans. Any of that ring a bell?”
His dark brow arched. “Lady, I think your bell’s the only one that’s been rung here.”
She had taken quite a fall. And she was feeling a little lightheaded. She reached up to run a trembling hand through her hair. Had she struck her head when she’d landed? “Are you a doctor?”
The cowboy gave a husky chuckle, revealing straight, white teeth. “I’m the closest thing you got to one. Doc Mitchell took on a rattler last week and lost. His replacement hasn’t arrived yet.”
“He’s dead?”
He nodded.
“So how can you have a rodeo...” her words trailed off as her gaze shifted past his broad shoulders, for the first time really taking in her surroundings. There were no arena lights, only the fiery blaze of a hovering sun. No stands filled with cheering fans. No rodeo clowns. Nothing at all familiar.
“Where am I?”
“Cheyenne.”
“Oh, thank God,” she said with a sigh of relief. “For a moment there I thought...” Her gaze dropped down to his lean, jean-clad hips, her eyes widening. “Are you wearing a gun?”
“Last time I looked.”
“Are you a cop?”
“A what?”
“An officer of the law.” Why did it seem like he was the one who’d landed on his head and not her?
“No, that would be Sheriff Mathis. I’m Jake Dawson.” He motioned around him. “And this is my ranch, the Flying Ace.”
“I’m on a ranch? Not at a rodeo?”
His frown returned. “I have no idea what this rodeo is you’re talking about, but, yes, you’re on a ranch. My ranch,” he repeated not-so-happily.
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this,” she said with a frown. “What year this is?”
A thick brow arched. “1868.”
Her mouth fell open with a gasp. “As in eighteen hundred and sixty-eight?”
He nodded.
His worried expression was the last thing she saw before the darkness swept her away.
A deep frown tugged at Jake Dawson’s mouth as he stared down at the crazy woman lying unconscious in his arms. Make that beautiful crazy woman.
Most of what she’d been saying hadn’t made a lick of sense to him. How could she not know what year it was? Was she ill? She had fallen climbing over the corral fence. Chances were good she’d struck her head when she landed.
He reached out to run his fingers through her hair and over her scalp again, still finding no sign of injury.
Maybe it was his head he should be worried about. It had been more than a year since he’d last fucked a woman and his sexual thoughts had been riding him hard the past couple of months. That and his own hand.
Was it possible he’d gotten to the point of wanting to feel the tight, wet, welcoming flesh of a female so badly that he’d simply conjured one up? Conjured her up.
Chestnut hair with streaks of gold woven through it lifted in the breeze, brushing across his arm in a silken caress. One that felt far too real against his flesh. The scent of clean skin and ripe berries drifted up to tease his already heightened senses.
He skimmed a finger along her cheek and then down the curve of her neck, needing to know if she were real or some lust-induced figment of his imagination. Beneath his curious touch, the woman’s pulse beat steady and strong, ending any doubt. She was real.
He studied her face, noting the thin line of black painted across each of her eyelids. Below the sweep of ebony were the thickest black lashes he’d ever seen. Lips, full and tempting, shimmered a soft pink beneath the sun’s glaring rays.
Painted face. Painted lady.
Jake gritted his teeth. Memories of the soiled dove he’d crossed paths with the year before had his body tensing in anger. He’d been trailing Deke Johnson across Texas when a saloon whore approached him, telling him she had information about the man he’d been tracking down. Information she was willing to exchange for his helping her escape the life she’d been forced to live. Well, he’d fallen for her tearful pleas. Bought it hook, line and sinker and it had nearly cost him his life.
Fearing that he’d lost the edge a Texas Ranger needed to survive, he left the company and bought himself a secluded little ranch on the outskirts of Cheyenne. He was a loner. A man who valued his privacy and guarded it carefully. A man who denied himself the pleasure of female company as a reminder of what his last good fuck had cost him.
He might have stopped tracking down outlaws with the Rangers, but he hadn’t lost his thirst for revenge where Deke was concerned. The man would pay for what he’d done. What he’d taken from him. All Jake had to do was be patient and wait for his enemy to come to him. And come he would. Of that, Jake had made certain.
Uneasy thoughts pricked at him as he stared down at the female in his arms. Not that an unconscious woman could be of any real threat, but what if, like last time, she wasn’t alone?
His narrowed gaze swept the vast expanse of land and woods that made up his ranch, searching for any sign that Deke was out there, lying in wait.
Nothing.
A soft moan drew his gaze back to the woman. How the hell had she walked out to the corral without him seeing her approach? Climbed right over the damned corral fence without a sound no less.
His dark gaze took in the thin cotton shirt she wore, one cut low enough in the front to give him more than an eyeful of flesh. The turquoise material clung temptingly to the rest of her breasts, not large ones like most of the whores he knew flaunted, but perfectly round swells that had his mouth yearning to sample them.
His perusal moved downward to where the too-small top pulled away from the waistband of her jeans, displaying not the pale white flesh he would have expected of a woman’s stomach, but smooth, tanned flesh.
Something winked at him in the sunlight, drawing his gaze even closer. What looked to be a tiny diamond star dangled in the hollow of her navel. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch the sparkling jewel. His finger circled the delicate gem and then skimmed the plane of her bare stomach. Skin so soft. So smooth.
All he had to do was slip his hand beneath her shirt... Desire surged through him at the thought, thickening his cock.
Jake pulled his hand away with a muttered curse. She was a whore. An unconscious one at that. Yet even
at that reminder, his gaze slid down to take in the gentle curve of the woman’s hips and the long, denim-clad legs that followed. The sight of which was pure torture for a man who had gone without for so long. His cock thumped beneath the thick denim of his fly.
“Fuck.”
He forced his gaze to something far less tempting – her fawn colored boots – and his eyes went wide. The heels on them were damn near as long as fence posts. How the hell had she made it to the corral without breaking her pretty little neck?
His horse whickered behind him, reminding Jake of where they were. He needed to get this woman, whoever she was, out from under the blazing heat of the afternoon sun. Gathering her up in his arms, he stood and carried her back to his cabin.
CHAPTER TWO
Something cool and moist slid across her brow, drawing Brianna from the dark abyss she’d been sucked into. She forced her eyes open, expecting the blinding glare of the sun, only to find herself surrounded by near darkness.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up,” that deep, sexy voice from her dreams drawled.
She turned toward the husky sound, focusing on the fantasy man beside her. His broad shoulders and dark head were outlined in the pale glow of light coming from somewhere behind him. As her eyes adjusted to the shadowy room, his features became clearer.
“I’m dreaming,” she declared with a soft sigh.
He let out a husky chuckle. “Lady, if you’re gonna dream about a man, I promise I’d be the last one you’d wanna consider for the job.”
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