Cowgirls Don't Cry

by Silver James

  “I’m not a lady, and I don’t believe for a New York minute that you ever do anything just because.”

  He pressed his hand against his chest. “You wound me, m’lady.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are so full of it, dude, I’m glad I have my boots on.” He laughed, and the sound did funny things to her insides.

  “You going to make me stand out here in the sun, or can I come up and sit down?” The grin on his face challenged her as much as if he’d actually thrown down a gauntlet.

  “Buddy, come.” The dog responded to her instantly, but he never took his eyes off Chance. She returned to the little vignette of chairs and settled in her father’s. She’d overcome her aversion and now sat there in the evenings, watching the sun go down and visiting with Boots. The dog hopped up into Boots’s chair, and she chuckled. Sometimes, the Australian shepherd seemed almost human. She petted the dog and ignored the man as he clomped onto the porch and sat in the metal chair.

  “Buddy looks like a little ol’ cowboy sittin’ there.”

  She glanced at the dog and laughed. His shoulders, chest and front legs were white. A black stripe circled his back and tummy and below that, his fur was speckled gray with black spots. His lower legs were tan, like he wore boots. A brown-and speckled-gray mask covered his eyes and ears.

  “That or a bandit.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at her guest. “So why are you here again, Mr. Chancellor?”

  “Most people just call me Chance, since that’s my name.”

  The grin he flashed was devilish, and she wondered what thoughts were in his mind. “Fine. So, why are you here...Chance?”

  “Can I be honest with you?”

  “I don’t know. Can you be honest?”

  * * *

  Damn but that question hit a little too close to home. Good thing he was the poker player in the family. Okay, honestly, he wouldn’t want to play poker with any of his brothers. He deflected her question with a wink and a little smirk. “I’ll plead the fifth on that one. You know what folks say, all’s fair in love and war.”

  “Yeah, but which is this?”

  “You tell me, Cassidy.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  “Which one?”

  “Well, you’re a man so we know you can’t be honest, so that leaves the other one. Why are you here?”

  “Ow. I lodge a protest in the name of men everywhere.” He offered her another crooked grin and a wink as he added, “I came to see you.”

  “Why?”

  Time to lay his cards on the table. “Because I want to take you to dinner.”

  “Dinner.”

  “Yes, dinner. I know Boots goes to the Four Corners to eat. A lot. I figure you weren’t kidding about being a bad cook. I’d like to take you out to eat. To a real restaurant.” She folded her arms across her chest, and his eyes drifted despite his best efforts.

  “Yo, dude. Eyes up here?”

  Heat climbed the back of his neck. Was he actually blushing? He broadened his grin. “Sorry. A man can’t help it when the view is so lovely.” She snorted, and he laughed. He tossed a shrug of his shoulders into the mix and tried a boyish look on her. “The point remains. I’d still like to take you out.”

  “Like...on a date? A real date?”

  “There’s such a thing as a fake date?” She rolled her eyes again, and he couldn’t tell if that was progress or not. “Yes, a real date. Dressing up and everything. A nice restaurant, maybe a movie after? Or we could go to Bricktown, hit some of the clubs?” Or maybe not. He’d be recognized there. Crap. He’d be recognized at any of his usual haunts. He needed a Plan B in a hurry. “Or we could go to my place, order in pizza and watch the Cubs game.”

  “Cubs? Are you kiddin’ me?”

  “Okay...White Sox?”

  She looked disgusted. “Why do you think I’d be a fan of either one?”

  “Um...you live in Chicago?”

  “Yeah. But lifelong Cardinals fan here.”

  “Really? You like baseball?”

  “Really. And I like Cardinals baseball.”

  “So, does that mean pizza at my place and the Cards on the big screen?” He liked that idea. His media room was that much closer to his bedroom, and he had every intention of seducing her before the date was over.

  She snorted again. “How cheap do you think I am?” She eyed him speculatively. “Why should I go out with you?”

  “I was attracted to you when we bumped into each other in Chicago. That hasn’t changed.”

  Her lips pursed as she considered his offer; he wanted to kiss her but he’d remain patient. The time would come—sooner or later.

  “Dinner at a nice place then a sports bar to watch the Cards.”

  She looked so cocky he couldn’t help but grin back. For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of calling up the corporate jet and flying her to St. Louis for the game. As a minority owner, Barron Entertainment had box seats, though he seldom got the chance to park his butt in them. Doing so would blow his cover, so he nodded in agreement. “Dinner out then a sports bar to watch the game. I’ll pick you up around five? Game starts at 7:30.” He stood up, and she looked startled.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, I got what I came for.” Her expression changed, and he would have missed the flicker of sadness if he hadn’t been studying her reactions.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you.” She didn’t move to stand. Instead, her hand gripped the arm of the chair as if to keep her in it. She wore an expression of studied casualness.

  “Can you make coffee?” he suddenly asked. She stared at him like he was crazy. “We’ve established you can’t cook. Does that mean you’re a Starbucks baby, or can you perk a real pot of coffee?”

  “I make excellent coffee, thank you very much. Even Uncle Boots doesn’t complain.”

  Uncle Boots? This was a story he wanted to hear. “Then go make a pot, woman. Prove it to me.”

  “Ha! I made one just before you got here. So there.” She darted up and through the door before he could react.

  A few minutes later, she returned with a tray loaded with a clean mug, sugar bowl, creamer and a thermal carafe. “I figure you take your coffee black, but I admit to a sweet tooth and a need for cream.”

  Coffee steamed in his mug, and he inhaled the rich aroma. After a hesitant sip, he nodded. “This is good, but how do I know you made it?” She flushed, her anger rising quickly. He loved eliciting that reaction from her and couldn’t wait to see what she was like when he had her in his arms.

  “You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

  Sparring with her was fun. He couldn’t deny it. Most women were dazzled by his last name. Cass had no clue, luckily. If she ever found out that his father wanted to take the ranch, she’d hate him. She could hate him later—after he’d given her a tumble, after he got her out of his system.

  He finished off the coffee in his mug and reached for the carafe. His hand collided with hers, and instinct had him wrapping his fingers around hers. “Nice,” he murmured.

  “Mmm,” she agreed.

  As they chatted the afternoon away, clouds gathered on the western horizon. The rising temperature played with the white, puffy cumulous clouds until thunderheads billowed and thrust angry fists into the humid spring sky. A few formed the classic anvil shape associated with violent storms. Whatever breeze there’d been died, and the humidity thickened to the point it was almost hard to breathe.

  “I don’t remember a chance of t-storms mentioned on the weather last night.” Cass stood and walked to the end of the porch, scanning the sky. “I’ll be right back. You can come in if you want.” She slipped into the house, and he followed.

  Not sure what he had expected, Chance d
ecided this wasn’t it. The furniture might have been new when Cass was a child. Now it looked comfortably shabby. A clunky TV perched on a wooden bookcase and occupied the center of one wall. A metal stand with a saddle that seemed to be in the middle of repairs sat next to it. A leather couch and two ancient recliners formed a semicircle around a battered wooden coffee table made from a slab of pine and two small wooden wheels.

  Cass pushed the power button on the TV and waited for the picture to form. Sure enough, one of the local weathermen spouted warnings as he stood in front of a radar image.

  “Looks ugly.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, and headed this way.” She walked closer and tapped the TV screen with her index finger. “See that? Hail core. I need to get the horses into the barn.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No, that’s okay. Buddy and I can do it.”

  “Cass, I know horses. I can help.”

  She tossed a one-shouldered shrug in his direction, ducked around him and banged the screen door as she left. He glanced down at the dog. She’d banged the door in his face, too. “Wonder what we did wrong, boy?” The dog woofed, and the desultory wag of his tail might translate to a shrug, too.

  “Well? You two coming or what?” Cassie’s voice carried through the still air, punctuated almost instantly by a clap of thunder.

  “Time to get a move on, Buddy. C’mon, boy.” He opened the door and held it as the dog zipped out and launched off the porch, a gray blur headed straight for Cass. Chance followed at a trot. By the time he caught up, lightning flickered in the sky, and thunder rolled. The horses milled around a field on the other side of the barn.

  “Get the barn door,” Cassie yelled, but the rising wind tore her words away. She pointed, and he waved. She climbed the fence as Buddy ducked underneath the bottom rail.

  Chance jogged to the barn, ducked inside and shut the door before heading to the far end. He noted the stall doors were already open and padded with fresh straw. He lifted the iron bar on the back door and pushed it open on well-greased rollers. He cut his gaze between the growing storm and the woman and dog working the horses up toward the barn. It was poetry in motion.

  In the near distance, a sheet of rain filled the space between cloud and ground, marching across dusty fields. The first fat drops splattered in the dirt at his feet. He stepped out, prepared to help, then realized he might cause more problems by spooking the horses. While he wanted Cass to hurry, he knew she couldn’t. She and Buddy were working the small herd like masters, but the storm galloped toward them.

  The rain hit hard, and she was drenched immediately. The horses saw the open door and dashed inside. Chance had just enough time to step into the shadows as they charged in, Buddy hard on their heels. He rolled the door partially closed, leaving enough space for Cass to slip through. She darted in, looking as if she’d just climbed out of a pool. Her hair lay plastered to her head, and her white T-shirt, with the fitting slogan of “Take This Job and Shove It,” did little to conceal every lacy stitch of her Victoria’s Secret bra. He found that intriguingly incongruous. Despite her claims otherwise, Cassie Morgan was a cowgirl—but a cowgirl in a frilly Angel bra.

  Chance closed the door, and the gloom in the barn deepened. His eyes adjusted, and he noticed the horses sorting themselves out and heading into stalls, with a little help from Buddy. Cass walked up one side shutting stall gates behind them. Chance took the other side and did the same. They met at the far end, and Cass flipped the light switch. He really wished she hadn’t. He couldn’t take his eyes from her curves. He began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Whoa. Wait a minute there, cowboy. Just what the heck do you think you’re doing?”

  “You’re wet.”

  “Um...duh.”

  “I’m dry.”

  “So?”

  “So, either you’re really happy to see me or you’re cold.” She glanced down, and when her gaze met his again, her cheeks were flushed. Oh, yes. She’d be delightful in bed. “I’m offering you my shirt.”

  She glowered at him. “You hardly seem the type to offer a girl the shirt off your back.”

  He peeled it off and handed it to her, amused that her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. He got the distinct impression she liked what she saw when she licked her bottom lip. Of course the gesture created an interesting reaction behind the buttons of his jeans.

  “Here.” He waved the shirt a little, but she didn’t seem to notice. His smile broadened, and he leaned closer to drape it over her shoulders. “There you go.”

  “Thanks...”

  His lips hovered inches from hers and if she breathed deeply, her very perky nipples would brush against his bare chest. His fingers tangled in her hair as he smoothed the wet strands back from her face. Her eyes dilated, and she inhaled. Her chest swelled, and that’s all it took. His lips found hers. He held her head still as his teeth nipped at her mouth. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until they parted for him. She tasted like café au lait, and he had an insane desire to fly her to New Orleans for beignets. Right after he kissed her senseless and made love to her for the rest of the afternoon.

  She pressed against him, and he felt her shiver. He dropped one hand so he could encircle her waist with his arm and hold her closer. Like a contented cat, she rubbed and purred, her mouth open now and accepting the forays his tongue made against hers. While he kept his eyes open so he could watch her, she closed hers, as if lost in the moment. He liked that; liked the idea of sweeping her away, overriding her senses and making her his.

  Cass was every bit as sexy as he remembered from their encounter in Chicago. He’d wanted to invite her up to his room and would have if not for that damn call from Cord. Just as he’d wanted to do then, his hand dropped to her round ass and he discovered it fit, filling his palm and making him horny as hell.

  “I want you.”

  “Oh? Really?” She bumped against his erection and chuckled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  He ground his teeth together. “I didn’t figure you for a tease, Cass.”

  She planted her hands against his chest and pushed a little. He dropped his arms. “I don’t tease, Chance, not about sex.”

  “What about love?” She tilted her head and stared at him, unblinking. Where the hell had that come from? He didn’t know, but he sure was curious about her answer.

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “Ooh. Cynical little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yup, I am. What about you, Chance? I bet women tuck their phone numbers into those tight jeans of yours all the time. You’re all about the sex, and I just don’t see anything even remotely resembling love in that equation.”

  She backed up a step, putting some distance between them, but not so far he couldn’t touch her if he wanted. Instead, he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and waited. The flash in her eyes convinced him she was just getting started, and he was curious about how far she would push.

  “You tried to pick me up in the hotel in Chicago. You knew you’d never see me again. A one-night stand, that’s all you were after. That’s all you wanted.”

  She jabbed her finger in his chest, and the nail pricked a little, but then her fingertip caressed the spot before trailing down a couple of inches. Cass jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned and jutted her chin. He worked very hard to keep a poker face because inside, he was grinning madly.

  “I bet you’ve never had a girl say no to you.”

  Well, no. I’m a Barron. They want to sleep with me for the name if nothing else. That thought hit a little too close to home, though he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him.

  “I bet nobody says no to you, in fact. You just...you have that arrogant air of being all charmed and stuff. Like everything you touch turns to gold.”

  Pretty much. I’m
a Barron, baby. It’s genetic.

  “Guys like you are a dime a dozen. Good-looking enough to be a male model, and you just skate by.”

  Not quite a dozen, darlin’, unless the old man is hiding a few in the woodpile we don’t know about.

  “So why are you here? Why do you keep coming around?”

  “Does this mean you aren’t going out with me tonight?” He watched the flush creep up her neck, and he stepped toward her. Yes, he was a predator on the prowl, and she was his prey, but when she didn’t back up, he had to give her points.

  “What’s that got to do with this discussion?”

  “Discussion? Sounded more like a lecture to me, Cassidy. Why am I here? I came by to ask you out to dinner because I don’t have your phone number. Why do I keep coming back? Because you’re a damned attractive woman, and I want to get to know you. Is that so hard to believe?” He ignored the lie about her phone number, but all the other answers bounced around in his thoughts. And then the main one sucker punched him in the gut. Because my father wants to ruin you, and I’m having trouble with that.

  She lowered her chin, and he didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. She blinked once. Twice. And a third time before her eyes narrowed. “Don’t expect me to go all Sally Field at the Oscars here. I left my ego at the front gate. I don’t trust you, Mr. Just-call-me-Chance. Not as far as I can throw you.”

  Cass paused to lick her lips, and that’s all it took. He wrapped his hands around her biceps and pulled her to him. He kissed her, taking her mouth by storm. She resisted for a long moment then relented, her tongue teasing his lips this time. He could feel her heartbeat, and was thrilled it galloped as fast as his own. His pulse pounded in his ears, every bit as loud as the thunder outside the barn.

  Her arms slipped around his neck, and he backed her up to the nearest wall without breaking the kiss. Heat flared between them, and he brushed his shirt off her shoulders. He could feel the rasp of the lace on her bra through her T-shirt.

  “Too many clothes.” He growled the words as he peeled the wet cotton over her head and then sealed his lips against hers again. One hand roamed down to stroke her thigh and just as he hoped, she rubbed her knee up his leg. He cupped her sweet ass and the next thing he knew, she’d wrapped those long legs around his waist. He couldn’t breathe for a minute as the most intimate part of her cradled his erection.