by Karen Anders
Rodeoing had been his freedom, and his ticket out of a brutal life. He had achieved the pinnacle of success and the high from riding bulls had been as addicting as a drug. Right now, though, he never again wanted to feel the surge of adrenaline that came from lowering himself onto the back of a huge Brahman. He never again wanted to experience the dizzying ride, the whirling, the bucking. Because all he remembered was the jarring impact, the searing pain and the terror of looking into two enraged black eyes and coming face-to-face with death.
He turned over abruptly, seeking sleep, and damn if the sheets didn’t smell like fresh clean air and sunshine.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to sweet, brave Jennifer Horn. He hoped she was all right. Maybe he would stay a couple of days and try to find out where she lived and make sure she was okay.
He didn’t think about how dangerous that thought was as his mind closed down and sleep finally stole over him.
Chapter 2
Jennifer made it back to her truck, though she kept a keen eye out for Jay. She wouldn’t put it past him to wait and then approach her once the outlaw had left.
Fitting the key into the ignition, she put the argument with Jay out of her mind.
She knew he wasn’t upset with her for refusing to allow him to graze his cattle in one of her pastures. He was mad because she’d turned him down countless times. He was mad because she didn’t go out with him.
Maybe dumping that beer over his head two nights ago at Jack’s, the local watering hole, hadn’t been such a good idea. But it had been so satisfying, and it had cooled him off considerably.
He had insisted that she dance with him. In fact, he had pulled her from her chair and dragged her out on the dance floor. She had been furious and had acted without thinking about the repercussions.
Jay considered himself a lady’s man and his reputation had been blackened and bruised by his actions. He must be taking an awful ribbing from his friends. She couldn’t help getting satisfaction from that thought. Served him right.
Jay had a mean streak two miles wide and he was capable of rape. A shiver traveled down her spine at the thought.
There had been a rumor in town that Jay had raped a Comanche woman, yet the woman had never pressed charges. Jennifer had heard that she’d gotten a settlement. Gray Dove Garrison had made a “deal” with Jay to care for Tucker Garrison, the son she had conceived. In exchange, she wouldn’t tell Jay’s father about the rape.
It didn’t surprise Jennifer that Jay agreed. He was so afraid of his father. A meaner man had never existed and Jay had learned at his knee. It was common knowledge that Robert Butler was an Indian-hater, and he would most likely cut Jay off without even a thought if he found out Jay had sullied himself with an “Indian,” rape or not.
Her thoughts went back to Corey Rainwater—strong, fearless Corey. She rested her head against the steering wheel, suddenly feeling melancholy over a man who she would never get a chance to know. She couldn’t pine for a guy she barely knew. Yet her thoughts stayed on him and she wished she could wipe that loneliness off his face and erase the pain in his eyes.
A longing surged up deep inside her. A longing so intense, so devastating that she almost felt swamped by it. She breathed deeply as it rolled over her in waves.
A pair of hot aqua eyes burned in her brain and the need intensified. “No. No damn way.”
She clamped down the longing and stuffed it and the weakness that came with it into a closet in her mind and slammed the door.
She wasn’t a fool. She knew what Jay and every other yahoo within a ten-mile radius wanted: the Triple X, the land that came with it and her money. She had inherited one of the richest ranches around these parts when her mother and father had been killed in a tragic plane crash during their annual trip to Vegas. Her father had bred the best bucking bulls in the area. She still had standing contracts from rodeos all over the state and up north for rough stock. Her mother had also come from money, and at thirty-one Jennifer found herself quite well off doing work she enjoyed and raising a precocious thirteen-year-old daughter.
Yes, she thought, Jay was interested in her money and her land. She hadn’t received so much male attention in years. After Sonny, she had made it quite clear she wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone, and they had left her pretty much alone. But now she was much too fat a pigeon for some of the lowlifes around here, and they were attracted to her like ticks to a hound.
Her hand still tingled from the outlaw’s touch and dejectedly she wished Corey had accepted the dinner invitation. It had been fun to flirt with him. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be desired for herself, not her bankroll. When had her life gotten so lonely? Struggling against an overwhelming urge to cry, she clenched her fists and beat at the wheel. He’s just passing through, she reminded herself.
She’d forgotten that thrilling rush when she’d been just a little bit reckless and just a little bit wild. But that was in the past. She had too much responsibility to let herself become morose over a tall, handsome stranger with painful secrets hidden in his eyes.
Well, this wasn’t getting her errands done, she thought. She’d go to the bank first, then the feed store. She put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot.
And still her hand tingled.
Corey woke up from a nightmare, sitting bolt upright, his breathing harsh in the silent room, his hip throbbing in time to the hard beating of his heart. He always woke from these dreams with an aching hip. He looked at his watch. It was almost noon, and he hadn’t eaten since last night. He should make his way over to the diner and get himself something to eat, he thought.
People looked up when he walked into the diner a half hour later. An old man sat on one of the orange vinyl stools at the bar, the overhead lights casting his face in a sickly hue. A young mother and her little girl talked quietly in a corner booth while they munched French fries. The little girl popped her fingers in her mouth every so often to lick off the ketchup she kept smearing all over her hands.
He smiled, and the sudden image of Marigold insinuated itself into his head. His sister had loved ketchup and French fries.
Taking his eyes off the child, he noticed the old man staring at him, a gleam of recognition in his eyes. Corey stared back impassively until the man looked away.
Most of the conversation in the diner had stopped, except for the mother and little girl’s. The only sound was the coughing wheeze of the old air conditioner and the sizzle of hamburgers cooking on the grill. The air was heavy with the smell of grease and hot coffee. His stomach rumbled.
An old man and his blue-haired wife glanced his way. The woman leaned forward and whispered something to her husband. He could almost hear what she had to say. Do they let them kind in here?
Suddenly he felt so damn tired. Soul-weary, his mother would have said. The nap only seemed to have made the fatigue deeper, heavier, as if it had settled into his bones instead of relieving the mounting pressure. A pressure that was now pressing on the backs of his eyes. Finally he found an empty booth and wearily sat down.
“Can I help you, handsome?”
A young waitress in the typical light pink uniform with white apron approached the table. She snapped her gum and giggled. “You got some really purty eyes.”
Unsmiling, he looked up at her and she retreated a step. She was probably only making conversation, but the compliment irritated him. He remembered how Jennifer’s eyes had widened when she had seen his eyes, and the obvious admiration mirrored there had made him feel powerful.
“Can I get something for you, sir?” A new respect whispered in her voice and he glanced down at the menu, disgusted with himself. Now he was scaring young girls. What was next? Kicking dogs? He was in a black mood. He felt like hitting something. In his youth, when these moods came upon him, he’d look for a fight and God help the poor bastard who started with him.
The circuit had taught him always to sit facing the door, never to ba
ck down from a fight and always to look people straight in the eye. It had toughened him up, made a man out of him.
With the bull goring, something had changed. He didn’t know what it was. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and the anxiety churned in his gut. He felt restless all the time. And angry.
He thought he had put his anger to rest a long time ago, but lately it surfaced at odd intervals. He got so angry that he had to get on his bike and ride until the black rage passed.
“Coffee, black, and a steak sandwich.”
“Do you—” she faltered when he looked up at her “—want fries?” She swallowed and her eyes widened. He realized he’d unnerved her so much she’d swallowed her gum.
“No.” He softened his expression, but the young woman was so rattled she didn’t notice.
He followed her with his eyes as she turned away and placed his order. As he shifted his gaze, he caught the eye of the old man sitting at the bar.
“I know you,” the man said. “You’re Corey Rainwate., best damn bull rider I ever did see.
“Saw the ride that won you the gold buckle last year. It was something to see.”
Panic gripped him and squeezed. He didn’t want to be recognized. He didn’t want to hear the whispered voices saying, “Lost his nerve...almost killed by that bull... doesn’t ride anymore...coward.”
Abruptly he turned away and said icily, “I don’t follow the circuit anymore, old man.” The finality in his voice stopped whatever the man was going to say.
When his meal arrived, he ate, avoiding any more eye contact with the man or the waitress. When he finished, he paid for his meal and walked out.
A voice raised in anger made his head jerk up. He squinted against the blaze of the sun and wished he’d brought his sunglasses.
Wasn’t that Jennifer Horn’s husky voice he heard? When he spied her truck with the Triple X’s on the side, he made his way across the street.
Jennifer was spitting mad. Jay had waylaid her at the feed store. Obviously he had guessed that this would be one of her stops and had planned to ambush her. Right now he had his hand around her wrist, his fingers digging into her flesh, squeezing so tightly she was sure he would break the bones.
Her lips still stung from his brutal kiss. She hoped his face was still throbbing from the slap she’d given him.
“Jay, let go!” Her voice was getting more frantic than angry, and in pain and desperation she brought her knee up. But he turned and the blow just caught the inside of his thick thigh. He laughed with malicious glee, the sound grating her nerve endings.
Just when she thought she would scream from the excruciating pain, his hold loosened and she looked down to see Jay in the dust. Only this time he was flat on his back. Her outlaw stood menacingly over him, his boot planted against Jay’s chest, his thumbs hooked into a pair of worn denim blue jeans.
“Jackasses never learn,” he said with such steer-edged derisive amusement she saw Jay stiffen. “But when you’re dealing with dumb animals, it takes a few times before they understand what you want them to do.” He shook his head in condemnation, causing his hair to swing around his shoulders. She was mesmerized as the silky mass slid over the soft material of his deep purple shirt. She wondered if the color would deepen the hue of his eyes.
Even though he had his back to her she could see the threat of violence in every line of his body. She could tell he wanted to beat Jay by the way he stood, his hip thrust out as some kind of challenge. A human-male call of the wild.
She wasn’t worried about Jay, he deserved everything he got, but he was vindictive and he could cause a considerable ruckus for this green-eyed man who just wanted to be left alone. But twice now he’d risked his solitude to protect her.
She moved forward, placing the hand with the aching wrist against the steel of his bare forearm. It was a warm day and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He was hatless and he’d shaved. It made him look more vulnerable and less unapproachable. Still an outlaw, though, with his firm jaw and the aura of danger that sparked around him.
His face was thunderous, his eyes a dark and stormy turquoise. The heat of his skin was like a shock coursing through her palm and up her arm. She wanted to caress his soft hair-roughened skin beneath her hand with a most unbelievable need. The tenseness of his body, taut like a strung bow, belied the lazy drawl of his voice.
“Mr. Rainwater,” she said, “please don’t. Just let him go.”
Corey removed his boot and stood in a threatening gunslinger stance, as if Jay were suddenly going to draw on him.
Jay cursed a vicious oath and scrambled to his feet, his wary eyes watching Corey with hatred.
Those angry eyes moved to her and a sudden chill of fear brushed down her spine. Clearly, she’d made a powerful enemy. “This discussion isn’t over, Jennifer,” he snapped, brushing the dust off his clothes.
“Just what is it you want from her?” Corey’s voice was quietly cold and raised warning gooseflesh over her skin. The promise in his tone was a challenge she knew Jay wasn’t ready to take on—at least, not alone. Corey’s forearm tightened beneath her hand, his own hand drawing into a fist. She exerted a light pressure and he seemed to relax.
“I want her to pay my dry-cleaning bill,” he whined.
Corey snorted in disgust. “What for?”
Jay’s face turned sullen and his eyes darted to hers. “She poured a pitcher of beer over my best shirt two nights ago. I want retribution.”
Corey slid a glance sideways, a smile flashing on his handsome face. “You did that, Jennifer?” His tone was so full of mockery that she laughed, knowing he was gibing Jay.
“I confess. I’m the guilty party,” she replied with mock sheepishness.
His conspiratorial grin widened, and she found herself grinning back. He held her gaze longer than necessary and she floundered before the hot brilliance. Far back in his eyes hunger flickered like heat lightning. The shock of his hunger ran through her body, beating in time to her own. Abruptly he stopped being a stranger to her. The conspiracy and the possessive way he looked at her made him familiar and coveted. Jennifer’s hand clenched around the warm skin of his forearm. She needed something to anchor herself right now.
“I’m appalled at you,” he said in a mock-scolding voice. A shrewd teasing gleam twinkled in his hot eyes before he pulled his gaze away and fastened it on Jay.
“Your favorite shirt? That must have been awful for you. I can certainly see why you’d want to terrorize a woman, especially if your advances were unwanted.” Corey reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill while Jay called him the most filthy names. Corey stilled and his eyes narrowed with menace. “Watch your mouth, or I’ll close it for you.” He held out the bill. “Here. This should take care of your fancy clothes,” he said with scathing force. When Jay reached for it, Corey dropped it to the ground.
Jay picked up the twenty, and as he rose, Corey leaped forward and with one smooth motion pivoted and slammed Jay up against the feed-store wall. “Don’t go near her again, cowboy.” His voice was deceptively mild, deceptively soft. Steel couldn’t be harder.
Fear blossomed in Jay’s eyes as he obviously realized that he was dealing with a very deadly, very protective man. In that same chilling voice, Corey continued, “If you’re walking down the same street, you cross over to the other side. Got my drift? If you don’t, you’ll have me to answer to.”
A strangled yes came out of Jay’s tight sullen mouth. Corey let him go and he backed up, rubbing his beefy neck. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said with false bravado, his eyes telling the real story.
Corey didn’t even acknowledge that Jay spoke. Very deliberately he turned his back. The motion was as good as a slap in the face.
With his back to Jay, Corey didn’t see the vindictive, hateful look that crossed Jay’s face before he left, but Jennifer did and she was suddenly afraid for Corey. A thin shiver of warning trailed down her spine.
“This
is becoming a habit with you,” she said while she tried to massage some feeling back into her hand.
“I could say the same thing for you, darlin’. It looks like you do have more than one life, huh?”
He moved the hand that was rubbing her wrist and swore softly when he saw the beginning of a bruise. Very gently his fingers caressed the sensitive flesh and goose bumps shivered over her skin. He continued to rub her injury, a distant look on his face.
“You should have let me teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget,” he said, his voice thick.
“It wouldn’t have made me feel any better,” she countered as she tried to slip her wrist out of his big capable hands. But he gently held on, his thumb moving over the palm of her hand with smooth distracted strokes.
“I would have felt a lot better,” he murmured as if in a daze. He brought the abused flesh close to his mouth.
The warmth of his breath had her stomach doing tiny flips. Tenderly he kissed the red skin, his hand sliding down her arm, around her back as he urged her closer to him. “Better?” he questioned, the concern in his eyes warming her. “He didn’t hurt you anywhere else, did he?”
It didn’t take much urging from him to get her closer. He’d showered and smelled of soap and shampoo and a tantalizingly delicious. aroma that was completely his own. Jennifer couldn’t answer. The tenderness in his eyes jammed the words in her throat, a tenderness and aching loneliness that left her emotions raw. Then it happened. The deep need to hold this man in her arms stole over her. Hold him tight and rock him until the wrenching pain in his eyes went away and never came back. Oh, how she wished for that right. The right to put her arms around him.
He knew what it was like to be abused.
With that realization, she lost another little piece of her heart to this man she’d met only hours before. “No,” she said softly.
He moved his head closer, his eyes focused on her mouth. “Are you sure?” His voice thickened with a longing that tore at her heartstrings. He gave her ample time to evade him if she wanted to.
