Seduction, Cowboy Style

by Anne Marie Winston

  “Hello.” Lyn wore a hospital gown and she was propped up against white pillows. The bruises on the young woman’s face were even more spectacular colors than yesterday, but she was much cleaner and her long mane of dark-red hair had beautiful copper highlights in it. “Do you remember me?”

  Lyn slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically. “Where have we met?”

  “We met yesterday when you knocked on my door.”

  Lyn’s sober expression grew even more so. “I don’t remember.” She made a small gesture that encompassed her face and body. “Guess this is why.”

  Silver nodded. “You looked pretty bad yesterday. Scared me silly.”

  Lyn’s wide eyes seemed to take over her face. Worse than this? the look seemed to say.

  Silver smiled a little. “Deck Stryker helped me get you to the emergency clinic.

  “Oh.” Lyn cleared her throat. “Did Deck come with you today?”

  “No.” She was not jealous of the way the girl spoke his name as if she knew him well. “But he was here last night. I’m sure he’ll be in again.”

  Lyn made a small negative motion with her head. “He doesn’t have to,” she said. “It must be horrible for him, coming in here now.”

  “Why is that? I’m a visitor to the area.” Shame on you, Silver, pumping an injured woman for information.

  “His twin sister was in a car crash when they were in high school,” Lyn said. “They brought her here, but she died the next day.”

  Silver put a hand to her throat. “Dear God. How awful for him.”

  “It was.”

  There was a small, awkward silence. She remembered the pallor of Deck’s face at both the clinic and the hospital yesterday. He’d been sweating when he walked into the room. She’d assumed it was just too warm for him in the overheated hospital, but now it made more sense. She imagined Cal being killed and her breath caught. Impossible to envision. No wonder the man rarely smiled.

  She kept the visit short since the girl clearly was exhausted after just a few minutes. Still, it was getting dark by the time she finally bumped back the lane that led to her brother’s house.

  She saw the horse before she saw him. It was tied to the fence that ran around the yard, a large dark-colored animal with four white socks that she could see through the gathering dusk. Deck. Who else would be riding over here?

  Her pulse picked up. She hadn’t expected to see him today, and she wasn’t sure she liked the anticipation that flooded her system. It seemed so…needy. And she did not need another man cluttering up her life.

  Picking up her jacket and her purse, she closed the car door and started across the yard. The dogs came to greet her, one an old yellow mutt with a stiff leg, the other a big and playful younger dog who resembled a collie without a tail more than anything else. Cal had told her both of them were here when he bought the place.

  They greeted her with ecstatic wriggling and whining and she stroked their heads as she walked up to the porch. There was a large, dark shadow that looked as if it was wearing a hat sitting in the rocker in the corner. “Hello,” she said. “Have you come by for the evening report?”

  The shadow stirred and stood, resolving itself into the figure of a tall cowboy. “Among other things,” Deck said, striding across the porch toward her.

  “You could have gone inside.” No way was she going to ask what the “other things” were. “It’s chilly out here and Cal says nobody ever locks their doors.”

  He didn’t answer, just stopped a couple of feet away. She could make out his features now and she smiled tentatively, a purely feminine case of the nervous jitters quivering in her stomach. “Want some coffee? A drink? I have iced tea and soda.”

  “No, thanks.” His gaze was on her face, dark and intent, and she found she couldn’t sustain the eye contact.

  Okay. Well… “I’m going in,” she said. “You’re welcome to come in. In Virginia, it’s warm in May. I’m not used to temperatures near freezing at night.”

  “Sometimes it’s warm here in May, too.” Deck followed her into the kitchen. “Last year, it was ninety-six degrees one day while we were branding.”

  She laughed as she hung her jacket and purse on the hooks inside the door, then turned toward the refrigerator. He might not need a drink, but she was thirsty. “The weather’s weird out here.”

  “Not to us.” There was a note of humor in his voice. “Actually, the weather’s what I came over here for.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re new.” He pointed to the radio Cal had installed under the shelves above the counter the very first day he’d arrived. “Always listen to the weather forecasts. Always. There’s a stockman’s advisory tonight and tomorrow. Possibility of some heavy snow.”

  “You’re kidding.” She slowly lowered the glass she’d been drinking from. “Right?”

  He shook his head. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you since you don’t have stock. Don’t drive anywhere in the snow. If you have to go somewhere, call over to the house first and let me know. It’s not good to be alone out here. It’ll melt fast even if it does snow heavily, but it’s best to be prepared.”

  It might have been the longest speech she’d heard him make yet. She mentally reviewed his words. Wow—five sentences. But all she said was, “I’m not used to driving in snow. I won’t go anywhere.” Then she remembered Lyn. “Rats! I was going to go to the hospital, though.”

  Deck shook his head. “Not if you’re not used to driving in lousy weather. Wait until afternoon and I’ll drive you over if it’s fit.”

  “No, I don’t want you to have to go back—” Too late she realized what she was saying. His eyes narrowed fractionally, waiting, and she said lamely, “Lyn mentioned that you probably didn’t like the hospital. She told me about your sister.”

  Deck cleared his throat. He suddenly looked remote and untouchable, distant as a star. “What about her?”

  “Just that she died young, in an accident. I’m sorry.” His eyes were bleak and shadowed, and she had no idea what he was thinking. “It was stupid of me to bring it up.”

  He shrugged, but she could see the pain behind the gesture. “I’m not big on hospitals, but I’ll take you and drop you off if you need me to.”

  There was still an open wound here, she thought, a lot more raw than she would have expected after more than a decade. Perhaps it was because they’d been twins. Whatever, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. “Thank you. Let’s wait and see what tomorrow brings.”

  He nodded. “How’s Lyn?”

  She tipped her head to one side, considering. “Healing. Physically, at least. Mentally, I’d imagine it’s going to be a while before she feels safe again.”

  She finished her tea, rinsed the glass and set it in the sink, and he straightened from where he’d been lounging against the door frame. They stared at each other, and she could feel the steady pull of attraction willing her to walk across the room to him.

  “I have to feed the dogs,” she said, forcing herself into motion. She took two bowls from beneath the sink and turned to the pantry where she kept the dog food.

  “Silver.”

  Her hands stilled on the knob of the pantry door. Behind her, heavy footsteps made steady progress across the kitchen. He stopped directly behind her.

  “What?” It came out in a hoarse whisper.

  Two large hands settled on her shoulders. They were warm and strong, and she swallowed at the first wave of desire that crashed over her head. “Did I imagine it?”

  She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly which it he meant. “No. But—”

  “It’s a lousy idea. I know.” He moved closer, his breath feathering over her hair, teasing her ear, and she could feel his body heat though he wasn’t touching her anywhere but at the point where his hands rested on her shoulders. “We shouldn’t get involved.”

  “No. We—” She stopped, turned to face him. “Why not?” It was one thing for her to
have reservations but why didn’t he want her?

  A gleam of amusement lightened the shadows lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need a complication like you in my life.”

  “Oh.” She considered that, decided it was a compliment in a weird sort of way. “Ditto.”

  But he still had his hands on her shoulders, and as they stared at each other, his hand slipped down her arm and took the bowls from her, setting them aside without ever taking his eyes from her. “A kiss isn’t involvement.”

  “No, definitely not.” Her breath was coming in quick little pants. “But it’s probably not a good idea.”

  “I don’t care.” The words were growled out as he began to lower his head and his hat cast a dark shadow over her face.

  As his lips rocked onto hers, his big hands slid from her shoulders to her back, drawing her intimately against him. She couldn’t prevent the sound of approval that slipped from her throat at the shock of contact. It was echoed by a masculine groan that vibrated through his mouth and into hers.

  She hadn’t imagined it, was all she had time to think before she was engulfed. His tongue found hers, surrounded it and drew it into his mouth. His body was big and hard—very hard—and she felt as if his heat was branding her at every point of contact, from her breasts crushed against his chest to the growing erection that pushed insistently against her abdomen. His hands stroked over her shoulders and back and waist and hips as if he were memorizing her body.

  Last night he’d been seated but now he stood over and against her, and her breasts ached with arousal. Her nipples drew into hard points so exquisitely painful that every motion of his chest against them elicited fresh streamers of need that flowed directly to the female flesh between her legs, flesh that was already softening and moistening in readiness for what it craved. She shifted her hips against him and gasped when he grasped her bottom and lifted her onto her toes so that his hard shaft fit into the crevice at the top of her thighs.

  She was acutely aware of their isolation. They were alone in the house with no chance of an interruption. Her body throbbed and burned for his possession; her common sense turned to ash beneath the white-hot fire he lit within her.

  And then he tore his mouth from hers, gasping in harsh, heavy breaths as if he’d just run a marathon. He loosened his grip so that her feet were flat on the floor and threaded his fingers through her hair to palm her skull and press her face into his throat.

  “This is insane.”

  She leaned against him, breathing in his musky, male odor, every limb quaking as she tried to deal with his abrupt withdrawal. He withdrew his arms from around her, and suddenly she knew shame and her cheeks grew hot with it. Both times—last night in the truck and tonight in her kitchen—he’d been the one to call a halt. She’d been all his the moment he touched her, and she was sure he knew it.

  Stepping back, she turned her back to him and picked up the dog bowls from where he’d set them on the counter. “It’s time for you to leave.” She despised the quaver in her voice, and she clamped her lips together.

  “Silver, I—”

  “Goodbye.” She opened the pantry door and stepped inside the small room, waiting for what seemed like forever before his footsteps moved across the floor and she heard her door open and close before his boots stomped off her porch.

  She didn’t cry over men anymore, she assured herself. Chet had taught her that no man was worth tears, so she resolutely ignored the ache in her throat and the sting in her eyes while she fed the animals. Since it was too early to go to bed she watched television for a while, avoiding anything that smacked remotely of sex or romance, opting for a couple of nature shows and the ten o’clock news.

  She couldn’t wait till Cal came home so she could tell him what a jerk his next-door neighbor was.

  She was the sister of the man who’d killed Genie.

  As he reined in his gelding at the barn on the Lucky Stryke, Deck repeated it to himself over and over again like a mantra.

  It was the only thing that had kept him from carrying her into her bedroom and stripping her bare so he could get at the long silky body beneath the denim skirt and blouse she’d come home in. He still didn’t know why he’d given in to the urge to ride over there tonight. Telling himself he wanted to find out how Lyn was, was a really weak excuse.

  God, he was going crazy. He wanted Silver so badly he ached with it. He wanted to kiss those striking eyes closed and plunge into her body until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He wanted her long legs wrapped around his waist and her breasts bared and pink from his handling. He wanted to take her from above and behind and in the shower and in the barn…and he was going to do himself serious injury on this damned horse if he kept thinking about her.

  So take her. It would be the perfect revenge. He’d dismissed the thought before.

  As bad ideas went, it was the blue-ribbon winner. Lowdown and dirty, unworthy as hell.

  You can enjoy her and have fun with her. Until her brother comes home. Then he’ll put a stop to it and he’ll be the one who looks like the bad guy, not you.

  It really was a crummy thought, and it made him less of a man than he’d always thought he was. But he liked it, dammit. He liked it a lot. He liked the fact that it would give him a reason to pursue the gorgeous package of warm womanhood who’d given him a permanent hard-on since she came to town. He liked the fact that it would royally piss off her brother. And he especially liked the fact that it would drive a wedge between McCall and his sister.

  An eye for an eye. He took your sister, you take his.

  And as he thought about that, all reservations about seducing Silver vanished beneath a steely determination and sweet relief. She was going to be his. And he was going to take her and use her until he tired of her, and then her brother could have her back. At least he’d give him that, he thought bitterly. I didn’t get my sister back.

  Unbidden, memories of that final night of Genie’s life wormed their way into his mind while he stabled the horse. He’d had nightmares for years, but they’d come less and less frequently as time passed. It almost frightened him. He never wanted to forget her.

  Deliberately he called up images from that night. Moment after moment rolled across his mental screen and he welcomed them, using the grim reminder to assure himself that his plan was just.

  The first memory to come was Cal’s laughing face as he’d pulled his daddy’s new pickup to a halt in front of the Stryker house that night. He and Genie had raced outside and piled in, calling goodbyes to their parents with the blithe unconcern of youth. See you. We’ll be back later.

  The second was the dance, followed by the fight that had sidelined Cal.

  And then the accident.

  For years he’d had dreams in which McCall died horribly, dreams in which a judge banged an enormous gavel and sentenced the killer to the life term he deserved, dreams in which he, Deck, smashed his fists into McCall’s shocked face again and again and again, until he was less recognizable than Genie had been in her final moments. There was little he could think of that would satisfy him more in this life than to find a way to take revenge on the man who’d killed his twin sister.

  If not for McCall, she’d probably be happily married by now, mothering children and loving some lucky guy. She’d still be riding, roping, racing. Automatically his gaze traveled to the corner stall near the door where the little paint mare she’d so loved still resided. Who’d have ever thought the horse would outlive her owner?

  And who would have thought Cal McCall would have the guts to come back to Kadoka, even after all these years? He’d left only weeks after coming home from the hospital that summer and he’d never been back. Deck had never known where he went and he’d never cared. If McCall hadn’t come back, hadn’t bought the place next door and shoved himself right in the town’s face again, he’d have been nothing more than a bad memory for the rest of Deck’s life.

  But he had come back. And he still had to pay.<
br />
  Revenge had been an amorphous, half-formed imagining for over a dozen years. But now, with McCall’s return, was it possible that revenge could become reality?

  His heart hardened to a block of stone as he decided it could.

  It would.

  Two evenings later Deck raised one booted foot and propped it on the crossbar beneath the small, sturdy wooden table where he’d settled in for a Friday-night drink an hour ago. They hadn’t gotten the snow they’d expected, and the inch or two they had gotten was already a greasy gumbo with puddles everywhere you looked.

  And he hadn’t seen Silver since the evening he’d ridden away from her. It had been a long two days. Only because he couldn’t wait to start his seduction of Cal McCall’s sister.

  The door opened and banged shut again. Deck shoved out the chair opposite him, maintaining his carefully balanced position on the back two legs of his own seat. The other chair teetered for a moment before a man’s hand grabbed the back. Beer sloshed over the rim of the full mug on the table as Marty folded himself onto the chair’s seat.

  Marty removed his dun-colored hat and tossed it carelessly on the table. He reached for Deck’s drink and downed a healthy slug.

  “Hey!” Deck protested. “Get your own.”

  His brother grinned. “In a minute.” Then the waitress scurried over and he ordered a draft beer.

  “Hey, Marty. You trying to keep Deck outta trouble?”

  “Yep. It’s a full-time job, Lula May.”

  The buxom little blonde chuckled, winking at Deck with exaggerated intimacy. “Don’t I know it.”

  Deck didn’t bother to smile. Rumor went that Lula May Piersen had been in the sack with half the men in Jackson County. He wasn’t one of them and he intended to keep it that way.

  “Hey, Lula, when you going to marry me?” Marty had an ease with women, a natural instinct for flirting with anything female, that Deck had never picked up. Mostly because he didn’t need to. When he wanted a woman, there was usually one around ready to scratch his itch. The rest of the time he was more than content to talk to the animals with whom he spent much of each day.