by Gigi Moore
Carson sneered at her pitiful attempt at an explanation. “C'est sa couillon.”
“What did you just call me?”
“I said you’re an idiot.” He looked like he was ready to thump her on the head with his finger just for good measure, as if she was a little kid who’d misbehaved in church.
Like Desiree didn’t already feel pretty freaking small and foolish enough. “Well damn, don’t hold back, Mr. Quarry, just tell me how you really feel.”
Carson gritted his teeth as he dismounted his horse and reached up for her to do the same.
Desiree looked down into the storm cloud that was the man’s face and hesitated.
“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already? Come on down. Now.”
Well, when he puts it that way. Desiree automatically felt her dander go up. Okay, she was totally in the wrong, but he didn’t have to be such a jerk and still giving her the hairy eyeball while he was at it! “I can get down myself.”
“Wait, don’t do tha—”
Adding insult to near injury, Desiree’s foot missed the stirrup as she tried to dismount and she went tumbling off the horse face forward. If it hadn’t been for Carson coming to her rescue yet again, she would have landed on the hard-packed dirt headfirst. He caught her against his chest and silently held her close.
It took a moment for Desiree to realize it wasn’t just her own heart pounding in her ears.
“What? Are you on a suicide mission today?”
Was that a tremor she heard in his voice? Nah, it couldn’t be, not from the big, bad, arrogant cowboy. “You can put me down now.”
He murmured something else in that foreign tongue that Desiree presumed was French, his voice deep and moving through her like warm butter.
She fought the shudder trying to ride through her body, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, even if she was ready to tear off his clothes and start licking him from head to toe like an ice cream cone. “You know you could do that in English. I know you’re already not afraid to insult me to my face.”
“I said I’d rather not.”
“Rather not—”
“Put you down. Not insult you to your face.”
“Oh.” Why would he rather not put her down? Shouldn’t getting her down and away from him be his top priority since she seemed to have pretty much ruined his life? At least he acted like she had. “Please put me down.”
Carson did, taking his sweet time about letting her slide down his body to stand on her own. Once her feet were on terra firma he still maintained contact, however, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “You all right, cher?”
“I’m fine thank—” Cher? Whoa, buddy. What was that all about? However, rather than ask him, afraid of the answer, Desiree said, “I’m fine, thanks to you. And now I need to go see if I can salvage my pie.” She headed toward the overturned basket with Carson on her heels.
“What is so damned important about that pie?”
She turned a glare on him, fists on her hips. “I went through a lot of trouble to get your mother’s recipe just right, okay? I just wanted you to try it and see if it was good or not, that’s all. Sam already tried some and loved it, at least he said he did, and I wanted your opinion, too, since it’s your mother’s recipe and…”
“You said that already.”
“God, I’m babbling.” She watched one corner of his mouth tilt up at this, and her heart near about stopped at the unfamiliar sight. Not to mention her face heated with what she was sure continued to be a fierce blush.
“I’m sorry for calling you an idiot.”
The regret in his voice drew her eyes up to his, and at five-five that involved her tilting back her head more than a little to meet his unflinching green stare. Yeah, he was a tall drink of water, at least six-three by her guesstimate—six-three of solid, broad-shouldered muscles.
Desiree swallowed as she remembered exactly how some of those muscles felt when he’d lifted her, biceps and triceps of lean, banded steel. She tried not to think about the hard, ripped abs she’d felt beneath her hands when she’d had her arms around his waist, or she’d just completely lose her good sense. She swallowed before she said, “I was an idiot. I could have gotten someone hurt, not just myself.”
“There was no way you could have known—”
“I was in the way, plain and simple.”
Carson moved one hand from her shoulder up to her face and cupped her cheek.
Desiree felt an electrical current shoot through her body at the skin-to-skin contact, his work-roughened hand warm and invigorating on her face.
He rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, just under her eye, back and forth, back and forth, his movements gentle, hypnotic, and slow. “I’d like a taste now.”
Was she hearing things? He’d certainly voiced her thoughts. She’d like a taste of him now, tomorrow, whenever she could get it. Her panties moistened at the image of her licking his bare chest as he lay on her bed, wanting her as much as she wanted him.
Where was this sudden carnality coming from? It surprised her, not just because it had been so long since she’d touched or been touched by a man so intimately but because one of the last times that she had, the experience hadn’t exactly been something she wanted to remember. In fact, the experience had been something she wanted to forget completely for the violence and pain it wrought.
Desiree cleared her throat. “Pardon?”
“Your pie. I’d like a taste. That is, if any of it’s salvageable.”
It had to be more salvageable than her mind at the moment. The man was really making her lose it big time. This was dangerous. She knew he didn’t like her, that he wanted to keep his distance. Did she really want him to like her and close the distance, though? Things had been bad enough for her when she entertained the attentions of a man who claimed to like her then did unimaginable things to her in the name of finding her attractive and wanting her.
Desiree turned from that magnetic gaze to get her bearings before crouching down to retrieve her basket. She lifted the linen cloth to peek beneath. The pie inside hadn’t been damaged at all. Only a slice had spilled out and gotten flattened in the dirt, making the overall damage to her peace offering minimal.
“My partner must have wanted that piece,” Carson said.
Desiree stood and saw the teasing gleam in his eyes. He made a joke. Would wonders never cease! “He must have.”
“Did I hear my name?”
Desiree and Carson both turned to see the cowboy who had been playing the deputy to Carson’s sheriff as he paused just behind them.
“The varmint has radar whenever food’s involved,” Carson stage-whispered to Desiree, then said, “If the lady says it’s all right, you can have a piece of…” he paused here, giving her a meaningful glance, “her authentic Louisiana pecan pie, Miller.”
Miller rubbed his hands together and licked his chops. “Sounds like a good deal.”
Thank goodness for Miller! Alone with Carson, Desiree had started to contemplate some decidedly unwise possibilities. After all, what could exist between the two of them?
Now Desiree had something entirely different to focus on than her lust, yet she remained anxious. Carson had made his pronouncement as if her pie were the best thing since sliced bread and she feared that it wouldn’t live up to his buildup.
She pulled back the linen cloth further and Miller didn’t hesitate to reach in and scoop out a piece with the spatula that was inside.
He took a hearty bite of the pie and began humming as he closed his eyes.
After several moments of watching the rapturous look on the man’s face, Desiree couldn’t take the suspense anymore. “Well? How is it?”
“Huh?” Miller opened his eyes to glance from Desiree to Carson and back again as if coming out of a trance. “I thought you knew from my humming and the look on my face.”
Desiree laughed as Carson swatted at Miller’s head with his Stetson while Miller ducked and dodged, laugh
ing as he left the two of them alone again.
“Hits the spot right nice after a shootout!” he said over his shoulder.
“I feel bad now that I didn’t bring some lemonade or something else to wash this down with,” Desiree said.
“Next time.” Carson clapped and rubbed his hands like Miller and Sam had before him and reached in for a piece of the pie.
Desiree’s heart pounded with his inference that there would be a “next time” as well as the idea that he was about to bite into something she had made with him and his brother especially in mind.
She was treading in risky waters and berated herself for bringing attention to herself unnecessarily. Things had been simpler when he’d thought her an annoyance to be avoided and she’d avoided him for self-preservation. Now he’d touched her, made her feel real, and she had nothing to offer him beyond a damaged shell.
What healthy, red-blooded man wanted to deal with her kind of baggage? She didn’t even want to deal with it half the time, but she had no choice.
Carson paused with the pie to his mouth. “If this is as good as your flan, don’t be afraid when you see my eyes roll up in my head like Miller’s. Just know I’m not having a seizure.” He took a bite before Desiree could reply and immediately closed his eyes as he began to chew.
She was glad, as it gave her a chance to admire him without being watched by those green laser-beam eyes that didn’t miss a thing.
The sun revealed the red highlights in his longish black hair, softening the appearance so much her fingers itched with the desire to run through it. Shaking her head, she moved her gaze farther down to his lightly tanned face, taking in the strong, sculpted jaw and the contrasting sight of long, lush lashes just brushing his cheekbones.
Desiree paused at his throat, the slight expanse of skin exposed by the two undone buttons at his collar. She looked at the pulse beating in his neck, surprised by the overwhelming urge to put her lips against it, the hunger that demanded she suck and nibble his neck—mark him—as she ran her hands over the hard-muscled breadth and curves of his torso.
He was beautiful, not handsome but beautiful. Desiree broke out into a cold sweat when she realized that she and he were alone. She had been trying to avoid being alone with him earlier, but now it was a condition she gladly settled into. She liked the privacy even if they were outside and in the open and anyone could walk by. They stood so close and in each other’s personal space that it gave her the illusion they were all alone in the world. She felt like she could trust Carson Quarry with all her secrets, even her life, because he had proven he would protect her even when she hadn’t asked.
When Carson finished chewing and swallowed, he opened his eyes to gape at her as if he couldn’t believe what he had just tasted.
“C’mon, it’s not that bad, is it?”
“It’s not bad at all. It’s delicious.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments, but really?”
“I’m ready for seconds.” He polished off the piece in his hand in short order and reached in the basket for another piece. “Now I see why you were so upset about the possibility of this being trampled. Surely would have been a pure waste.”
Desiree watched as he made quick work of the second piece. He smiled at her when he was done. It was such a simple thing, really, but his smile and honesty made her chest fill as if he’d pinned a medal to her lapel. She knew it was honesty and not empty flattery. The man, after all, had the nerve to call her an idiot to her face. He made it obvious he wasn’t trying to flatter or impress anyone, especially not her.
“Did Sam get his fill?”
“I don’t think so. He only had one piece. But I can always make more.”
“We wouldn’t want to put you out.”
She wondered at the way he spoke for himself and his brother, playing the role of the boss and leader in every way. She wondered how far that went in the brothers’ relationship. How much influence did Carson have over Sam, and would that translate in a relationship with her? How much convincing would Sam need to share a woman with his brother?
What are you thinking? Maia and Tamara were rubbing off on her in very unhealthy ways. She couldn’t see herself handling one man, especially this man. How would she handle Carson and Sam?
Desiree cleared her suddenly dry throat. “You wouldn’t be putting me out. I love to cook, even better when someone’s going to be enjoying what I’ve created like you boys are enjoying this.” Desiree offered him the basket and Carson readily relieved her of it.
“Good deal, then.”
“Just drop the basket by the house when you’re done.” She turned to leave but slowed her steps as Carson caught up to walk beside her.
“If you’re going back to the house, let me give you a ride. I’m going that way, too.”
Desiree glanced over at his horse shuffling his hooves several yards away and swallowed hard. Earlier when Carson had scooped her up into the seat with him had been her first time on a horse. She’d gone through plenty of pains to avoid the animals since she’d been on the ranch and had been miraculously successful. With Maia’s and Tamara’s nagging, this had been no mean feat. Desiree appreciated the animals at a distance, thought they were beautiful, but…
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
She winced. “It shows?”
Carson whistled and the animal trotted over and stopped beside him. Carson pet the horse’s head then rubbed his nose and the animal whinnied, obviously enjoying the attention. “This here critter is Freedom’s Call. I call him Free. Free, meet Desiree.”
The horse snorted and bent his head toward her as if he understood exactly what Carson talked about.
Desiree put her hand up and hesitated.
“Go ahead. He won’t bite, not unless you have an apple in your hand. I can’t be responsible for anything the greedy bugger does, then.”
“Guess you’d better watch out for your pie.”
“Already taken care of.” Carson held the basket behind his back and Desiree laughed, not missing how the slight motion pushed out his chest, stressing the muscles in his shoulders and arms as they flexed.
Desiree laughed as she finally touched Free’s nose with her fingertips and the animal pushed against her palm as if asking for a firmer touch. She readily accommodated him, rubbing his nose before sliding her hand down to stroke him under the chin. Free released a low rumble.
“Looks like you’ve made a new friend. Either that or he’s trying to soften you up to make him a pie of his own.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to share yours and Sam’s.” The thought made her wonder if he’d be willing to share more than just a pie with his brother.
Would he share her?
Chapter 5
Carson shifted his weight from one leg to the other as his jeans got decidedly tight around the crotch trying to accommodate his burgeoning, hot cock. Inside his jeans his cock wept and he prayed the drop of pre-cum he felt leaking from the slit of his erection couldn’t be seen through the front of the jeans he wore.
Despite the denim being thick, he thought there was definitely a drawback to going commando the way he and Sam habitually did.
He should have turned away, averted his eyes. He couldn’t look away, though, getting more turned on watching Desiree stroke his stallion the way he wanted her to caress him, the way he wanted her to touch his wanting cock.
He did close his eyes finally, muttering a curse under his breath as his cock jerked and began to throb, painfully hard behind his zipper.
This wasn’t good. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
How had it?
“Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes to see the concern in her whiskey eyes and something inside him snapped. He didn’t want her to be concerned for him, didn’t want to have to reciprocate, because only trouble lay down that path. “I’m fine. We’d better go before it starts to get dark.” He wanted to bite off his tongue for coming out of his face so harsh, espe
cially when he saw the hurt in her eyes, even though just as quickly she veiled the hurt with detachment.
That was the oldest trick in the book, one he’d perfected.
Dammit, why had he let her in? Now it would make things twice as hard seeing her around the ranch and keeping his distance, which he had been doing very well before now, thank you very much.
Drawn by her vanilla scent, Carson bent his head, knowing full well he was digging himself into a hole and not caring. He wanted to wipe that detached look off her face. He knew there was too much passion and concern under that expression to keep hidden for too long.
Her eyes widened right before his lips touched hers, but she didn’t show any sort of resistance, didn’t give any sort of indication that she wanted him to stop. By the time his lips made contact, Desiree’s eyes had drifted closed.
The minute he noticed this act of acquiescence, the minute his lips connected with hers, Carson knew he was in deep trouble and wished she had resisted. He surely couldn’t, not with her slightly parted lips so demurely inviting him in. He pushed his tongue past that temptation and stroked hers, couldn’t deny the lure of her spicy scent, her sweet taste, her soft skin.
A low groan quickly followed her gasp, boiling his blood in his veins and spurring him further. Carson framed her face with his hands, his big mitts almost swallowing her head as he drew her closer, angled his head, and deepened the kiss. Inside, his beast growled to be released and he knew had Desiree opened her eyes right then she would have seen the evidence of Carson’s waning control, his green eyes glowing out of his face as bright and yellow as the sun.
He was almost too far gone to know whether her whimper was a rebuff or approval, but when she put her palms against his chest and fisted his shirt, pulling him forward, he accepted her action for what it seemed—capitulation.
Carson pressed into her, shuddering when she slid her arms around his back, and he felt the pointed tips of her hard nipples stab just under his pectorals. He slammed the hot ridge of his cock into her slit when he hunkered down and finally took hold of her luscious ass to lift her up against him. He circled his hips, grinding into her as if to sear her with the heat of the blood rushing and filling his cock, wanting to give her something to remember him by once they parted, to imprint the memory of this moment, his body, on her body and soul.
