Seduction, Cowboy Style

by Anne Marie Winston

  But this is Deck.

  That was it. She’d let herself acknowledge how much she cared for him, and in some silly prehistoric corner of her femininity, a man who didn’t want his woman barefoot and pregnant was rejecting her. And that really was silly, she chastised herself. It was the twenty-first century. No real man would do that to a woman. She should be glad Deck was concerned for her.

  She shoved her arms and legs into her clothing and scrambled to her feet. But he caught her by the hand and pulled her into his arms before she could get on her shoes, dragging her against him and anchoring his hands in her hair. “This…meant a lot to me.” He sought her mouth and as he kissed her, his tongue searching out hers and moving intimately into her depths, her heart grew light again.

  She couldn’t be wrong about the feelings growing between them. She sensed that he cared, just as she sensed he would need time before he could say it. And she had plenty of time to wait.

  When they returned, he left her at her brother’s house and took the horses back. In an hour he finished his evening chores, and after telling Marty he wouldn’t be home for supper, he drove his truck straight to her place.

  His mind was a whirling mass of confusion. Guilt and shame warred with satisfaction and deep contentment, anticipation alternated with self-doubt. Despite it all, when he stopped the truck before her house and saw her standing at the door, he knew there was no way in hell she was sleeping alone tonight.

  “Did you have supper yet?” he asked her as he came up the walk.

  Silver shook her head as she came out the door and perched on the porch railing, smiling at him. “I have a casserole in the oven. It’ll be done in about forty minutes if you’d like to stay.”

  Oh, yeah. He’d like to stay. Anticipation quickened his pulse, and his body stirred. He set his hands at her waist to draw her off the porch rail, but before he even realized he’d changed plans, he said, “Put your legs around my waist.”

  Silver’s eyes widened. “Why?” Then comprehension dawned. Her eyes were a shining molten silver and her smile grew as she followed his command.

  He held her in place with one arm while he opened the screen door and carried her inside. Though they both wore jeans, he could feel her sweet heat scorching him and his own ready desire brought him to a quick, full erection that walked a fine line between pleasure and pain where it strained against his pants. “Because I want to drive myself crazy,” he said sourly.

  She laughed as he carried her through the house, then laid her head against his shoulder. The action warmed him in a way that had nothing to do with sexual fulfillment, but he shied away from thinking about how much he liked having her affection directed at him.

  He mounted the steps to the second floor, then paused. “Which room is yours?”

  “First on the left.” She pointed with one hand, then returned to the task she’d set herself, unbuttoning his shirt as far down as she could reach.

  He muscled the door of her bedroom open and carried her inside, not bothering with a light. Late evening light brightened the big old bedroom well enough for him to see her, and that was all he cared about. Beside the bed, he let her slip to her feet, growling as his body reacted to the sweet pressure. Then he caught his breath as he felt her hands moving down his body. “What are you doing?”

  Her smile was pure anticipation as she worked at his belt and opened his pants. “Enjoying myself.” Her hands slipped into his briefs and he couldn’t breathe at all then, as her small, soft hands grasped him and pulled him free of his clothing. He clenched his fists at his sides while she explored him, his entire body focused on the sensations centered in his groin. She stroked up, then down, sandwiching him between her palms, wrapping her fingers tightly around him. The rhythmic motions pushed him perilously close to the limits of his control and in far too short a time he drew her hands away and lifted her to the bed, coming heavily down onto her. “What say we give this protection thing another trial?”

  She smiled brilliantly as she lifted her hands to stroke his throat, his neck, his shoulders. “Okay. It really wouldn’t be fair to draw conclusions after only one test.”

  “Clinical trials usually involve hundreds of samples.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! We’d better get started then.”

  And as he bent to kiss her laughing mouth, the hard shell in which his heart had been encased for so many years cracked open a little more.

  Supper was nearly forgotten. Only the insistent, obnoxious buzzing of the oven timer that drifted up the stairs roused them from their absorption with each other’s bodies.

  After the meal, he helped her with the dishes and feeding the few animals on the property. The small domesticities felt comfortable, easy, with her at his side. He reminded himself for at least the twentieth time that he had an agenda here. But as he reached for her hand and strolled out of the barn, he faced the fact that he was going to have to make some adjustments to his original plan. When they reached the porch, he drew her down onto the front steps and settled himself a step above and behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she shivered in the cooling night air.

  “Happy?” he whispered into her ear.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  They sat in silence then, watching the sun slowly tint the sky pink and orange in its dying moments.

  Silver stirred, twisting herself around so that she could look up at his face. “That was beautiful.”

  “Umm-hmm.” He inspected the upturned flawless features, then slowly lifted a hand and cradled her jaw while he lowered his head and took her lips. The kiss grew and heated between them. Her body pressed back against him and he groaned with pleasure at the feel of her sliding against his groin. It wasn’t long before his pants were an uncomfortable prison and he slid his hands beneath her elbows, lifting her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

  She’d never slept with a man before.

  It was a powerful, intimate experience, she decided when the alarm went off the next morning. Deck was possessive even in his sleep, cradling her against him with one strong arm throughout the night.

  She caught her breath as she felt him stir against her, and he thrust an arm from beneath the sheets to silence the alarm. Then he turned back to her. “Good morning.”

  His voice was rough and early-morning gravelly, his jaw already stubbled with beard though he’d shaved before taking her to bed last night. Her heart swelled on a wave of love that nearly swamped her, and she had to close her eyes as she pressed a kiss to his chest. “Good morning.”

  “I’ve got cattle to move today.” He rolled over, pinning her beneath him and she felt him full and ready, boldly pressed against her. “Tonight… I’d like you to come over for dinner.”

  “I’d like that.” She lifted her hips the smallest increment, then dropped them again and felt his breathing catch.

  “Stop that,” he said. “I don’t have time this morning.” Then he dropped his head and kissed her thoroughly. “Better prepare yourself for my niece. She’s a little out of control.”

  Out of control? She wondered exactly what he meant. While she was digesting that, he shoved aside the covers and slid out of the bed. He turned immediately and tucked the sheets back around her, then moved to the chair where most of his clothes had landed last night.

  She rolled over onto her stomach and watched him dress, marveling at the hard muscle roping his body. He worked hard, and unlike the smooth muscles of the men at the gym she went to back home, his body showed the effects of his labors. He had a scar along one thigh, his tan was confined to his face, neck and arms, his hands were tough and callused, and as he turned to snag his boots, she saw a large purpling bruise on his back that looked suspiciously like a hoofprint.

  “Did you get kicked?” she asked, crossing her arms over a pillow and propping her chin on the back of her wrist.

  He chuckled, twisting around to look in the mirror over her dresser at his damaged flesh. “Yeah. I’m breaking a three-year-old
colt and he was being a smart aleck one day last week.” He glanced over at her as he stomped into his boots. Then he crossed the room again, reaching down and hauling her into his arms. The sheet was wound around her, frustrating her efforts to put her arms around him, and he laughed as he bent his head and took her mouth. When he broke off the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

  “I’ve got to get out of here or I won’t go at all,” he said, and there was a faint amused edge of desperation in his tone. “You’re too tempting for your own good.”

  She smiled as he lay her back among the pillows. If she clung, pressed herself to him, she sensed he’d be crawling back into bed with her in a heartbeat. But something in his voice told her he wouldn’t be entirely happy about it.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” she said.

  Twelve hours later, Deck cut the truck’s engine in front of his house. “I guess I have to let go of you now.”

  Silver smiled, laying her head against his shoulder as he cuddled her closer with the arm he’d kept around her during the brief drive. “I guess you do.”

  Still, he made no move to get out of the truck. “I hope this wasn’t a mistake,” he said.

  “What? Asking me to dinner?” She pulled away far enough to see his face. She wished she were sure enough of herself to know that wasn’t what he’d meant, but the truth was she was frighteningly vulnerable and uncertain where he was concerned.

  “Asking you to dinner wasn’t a mistake.” He dragged her back and kissed her before opening his door and preparing to unfold himself from behind the wheel. “Asking you to dinner here might put you off Strykers for life.”

  She laughed. “Your family can’t be that bad.”

  He took her into the house through the kitchen door, and she saw a man and a little girl making salad at the counter. When the man looked up, she knew immediately that she’d have picked him out of a crowd as Deck’s brother. Alike and yet…different.

  Deck’s brother, Marty, was a shade shorter and a shade more handsome. Or maybe he was just handsome in a different way, she decided, with hair the same chestnut as Deck’s, his eyes a lighter blue and features that were classically beautiful without the brooding intensity of Deck’s. His clothes were clean and pressed. Freshly shaven, he’d obviously just had a shower because there were still water droplets caught in the shining curls rioting around his head. If cowboys could make the cover of GQ, she thought, Marty Stryker would make the cut.

  Still, her pulse didn’t scramble and her palms didn’t sweat when Marty smiled at her.

  “Hi. You must be Silver. I’m Marty.” He came around the counter to offer her his hand, flashing a warm, intimate smile at her that probably had legions of women fanning their overheated selves when he used it in public.

  “Who else would she be?” Deck muttered from behind her.

  Marty raised his eyebrows mildly, still holding her hand and gazing into her eyes. “If you decide you’d rather date the civilized brother, just let me know.”

  She laughed. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Da-dee! Help me.” The little girl still at the counter banged a wooden spoon imperiously on the edge of the ceramic bowl, causing Marty to wince.

  “Easy, there, sugar,” he said. He moved the bowl out of her reach. “Come meet Uncle Deck’s friend.”

  “No. Don’t want to.” The child scowled at her father, then eyed Silver with the same baleful face.

  Despite her ferocious expression, the little girl was beautiful, with long dark curls bouncing clear down to her waist and sky-blue eyes that were a carbon copy of her father’s. As Marty lifted her down from the chair, she began shrieking, screaming a protest that would put a fire alarm to shame.

  “This,” he said through his teeth, “is Cheyenne. The joy of my life.” He picked up the still-screaming tot under one arm and strode out of the room. “Back in a minute.”

  Silence descended as the noise moved farther and farther away.

  Deck cleared his throat. “Marty’ll put her in her room until she’s ready to behave,” he offered.

  “She’s so pretty,” Silver said diplomatically.

  “That she is. It’s even easier to see when she’s not throwing a fit.” He chuckled. “Little brat.”

  “Will her mother be joining us?” She was almost sure of Deck’s answer before he responded. The house lacked a feminine touch, though it was neat and clean and comfortable. She couldn’t even say what was missing, but she was pretty sure Marty Stryker didn’t have a wife hidden somewhere on the premises.

  “No.” Deck’s voice held the echo of old pain. “She died when Cheyenne was two.”

  She was startled. She’d been expecting divorce, not death. “I’m sorry. That must have been terrible for Marty.”

  Deck nodded. “It’s still no picnic.”

  “Raising children is difficult enough,” she said, “without trying to do it alone. Marty’s lucky he has you around.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Marty spoke as he reappeared. He calmly went back to finishing the salad, his big, rough hands competently slicing a tomato and radishes and sliding them into the bowl. “Most of the time it’s like having a second kid around.”

  “Better be nice to me,” Deck warned, “or I’ll tell her about your ad.”

  Marty narrowed his eyes. “How’d you like to fix your own meal?”

  There was obvious affection between the two men despite their bantering squabbling. It reminded her of Cal, and she remembered that Marty also had grown up with her brother.

  She smiled at Marty. “My brother’s not much of a cook, either. I think that’s one reason he invited me out here.”

  Marty turned away, picking up oven mitts and reaching into the top of the big double ovens on the wall for a tray of rolls that were finished browning. “It was a surprise to have Cal show up in Kadoka again.”

  “I’m sure. Have you had a chance to talk to my brother since he came back?”

  There was a short silence.

  “Uh, no,” said Marty. “I haven’t.”

  That wasn’t a surprise, given the speed with which Cal had left town again after he’d arrived. “He got called away for a few weeks,” she told Marty. “But I’m sure when he returns he’ll be in touch. Deck tells me you and Cal are the same age.”

  Marty nodded. “Yeah. We got into plenty of trouble when we were kids.” He glanced at Deck, and she followed his gaze, wondering at the almost hostile glare Deck was shooting at his brother. “I’d better set the table. It’ll soon be time to eat.”

  He vanished into the dining room, leaving her to wonder at the tension in the air. Was Deck worried about her fancying his brother? The idea that he might be jealous was oddly pleasing.

  A few minutes later, Marty called from the dining room, “Meal’s ready to serve.”

  The conversation was light and easy during dinner. Marty wasn’t a fancy chef but the spaghetti sauce was tasty and he’d made brownies for dessert. As he set a plate of them on the table, his daughter silently appeared in the doorway.

  Tear tracks stained her cheeks and her glossy hair was mussed. Her thumb was loosely tucked into her mouth as she eyed Silver.

  “Hello, Cheyenne.” Silver smiled at the little girl.

  The child didn’t answer, but her thumb came out of her mouth. Silver decided that was an encouraging sign. She patted the place setting beside her. “I bet you’re hungry. I’d better hide a few of these brownies from your uncle Deck so you can have them when you’re done with your spaghetti.”

  Cheyenne didn’t smile, but Silver was pretty sure the air thawed a little. Best not to overwhelm her right off the bat, she decided, turning back to her own meal.

  It was only a moment before the little girl scrambled up on the chair next to Silver.

  “Would you like a roll?” She passed Cheyenne the basket, uncovering the warm, fragrant-smelling rolls as she did so. The child nodded and plucked a roll from the basket. While the men made coffe
e, cleared plates and clattered around in the kitchen, Silver matter-of-factly cut Cheyenne’s spaghetti into manageable pieces and dished her out some salad. As she did so, she told Cheyenne she lived far away and began to talk to her about what it was like to live back East. By the time the little girl’s plate was clean, she was chattering away, peppering Silver with questions and talking nonstop about familiar things around “her” ranch.

  Marty cast her a grateful smile as he came out of the kitchen for the last time. “Hey, my midget,” he said. “Guess what time it is?”

  “Bath time!” This was clearly a favorite part of the child’s day. She leaped out of her chair with a wild whoop of glee and raced back along the hallway, hollering, “See ya, Silver,” as she vanished.

  “You brush your teeth and get undressed. I’ll be there in a minute,” her father called after her.

  Silver laughed in utter delight. “She’s a charmer,” she told Marty.

  He chuckled. “Right. You don’t have to lie. I know she’s hell on wheels.” His tone was affectionate but wry.

  “She’s lively and inquisitive,” Silver protested. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think she’s delightful.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have an identical twin stashed away somewhere, would you?” Marty asked. “That child needs a mother. Preferably one who can outsmart her. You were great with her.”

  As he rose and pulled out her chair, Deck snorted. “If you weighed a ton and had a face like a mad bull, he wouldn’t want to know about your twin,” he informed her. “Marty wants a wife more than he wants a mother for Cheyenne.” He directed Silver into the living room and reached for her hand, drawing her down beside him on the couch.

  “Not completely true, but I’ll admit I’d like to get married again.” Marty stretched his long legs and propped his boots on the hassock in front of his chair. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “He’s advertising for the perfect wife.” Deck’s tone was all informative innocence.