Cowboy of Her Dreams

by Kira Barcelo

  Naturally, her panties had come right down with the jeans. Her time for being embarrassed about being so exposed was limited, since he made short work of seating himself on the hay bale and swiftly tossing her face-down across his lap. Jenna splayed her hands on the floor first, trying to steady herself. Her hair, now loosened from its ponytail, was a hot mess that obscured her view. Her feet, clad in her boots, dangled helplessly in the air.

  This was a lot more than she bargained for. Certainly a lot more dangerous than being draped over the kitchen island. With her over his knees, her breasts pressed against his left leg. But what really made her blush was that bulge beneath her waist, growing inside his jeans.

  “You know what? I can’t wait for you to go back to Hollywood!” she hissed.

  “What did you say, Jenna?”

  “I said, I can’t wait for you to go back to Hollywood! You don’t belong here anyway!”

  She glanced back over her shoulder—not an easy task in that position—to see if her words had any impact on him. Sure enough, Stone Farrell was glaring back at her, a hurt expression on his face.

  That lasted about a second. She watched as he turned his attention fully to lifting his hand high in the air and delivering a loud and stinging-like-hell smack to her bare posterior.

  “Owwww!” So much for playing the tough girl.

  Jenna fought as much for composure as for trying to wriggle free from each spank that large hand landed on her tender flesh. She bit down on her lip to keep from hollering or crying out, but not surprisingly, it hurt even more getting spanked on the bare than through protective denim. At least she was able to keep it down to gasps and miserable little yelps.

  There was no mistaking it, either: This spanking was lasting a lot longer than the first one. Her only hope was that his hand would tire or ache too much to continue. For the time being, though, that muscular arm was workin’ it. Thoroughly. He was methodical about it, too, raining smacks on her right cheek to the point her eyes watered, then turning her slightly and going to town on Cheek Number Two. His hand then unleashed its fury on that spot at the very bottom, just above her thighs.

  And to think he’d been looking around for something to spank her with! Already her bottom so sore, she was sure she wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for the rest of the week. It would’ve been longer than that had he used anything other than his hand.

  To her relief, the spanking ended. Or Jenna hoped it did, with the smacks having stopped at last. She caught her breath, feeling his hand come to rest flat across her rear.

  “Well, I think that’s warm enough,” he remarked and gave her reddened tail a couple of benign pats. “That’s all right now, baby. Oh—wait a minute. We’re not done here…”

  He had just helped her off his lap, something she couldn’t have done by herself, not with her feet dangling in the air and a spanked behind that direly needed rubbing. The spanking was over…wasn’t it? Jenna swallowed hard.

  Before she could say a word, Stone had gently turned her around and guided her back onto his lap, this time seating her. As she might’ve expected, the denim of his jeans felt scratchy against her freshly blistered tail, making her wiggle slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. Jenna was then distracted by his arm, coming to rest loosely around her waist. His head was tilted and his expression was sweet as he gazed at her.

  She hadn’t even noticed right away, but it dawned on her at that moment: Stone had called her baby. His eyes, even more amazing when they met hers with that gentleness, which apparently he was capable of, seemed to be whispering that word to her in their own silent way.

  “You ready to talk?” he asked softly. “Because I think the problem is, there are some things that need to be said between us. That’s me, too. Not just you, Jenna…”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jenna said nothing at first, a little afraid to trust her own voice. All she could do was wrap her arms around Stone’s neck and lay her head on his shoulder while her breathing returned to normal.

  It was oddly comforting. Even stranger to her was the fact that, even though the spanking had hurt and had been anything but comfortable to her other end, she’d felt comforted in the fact that he hadn’t just let her leave. It was hard to put into words and at that point, she didn’t even want to try. She preferred sitting on his lap and being held by him.

  After a few minutes he gently brought her to her feet.

  “Let’s just—well, just in case somebody decides to come in here, honey. Let’s make sure you’re not half-naked…”

  Stone guided her jeans back up her legs, pursing his lips when the fabric brushed hard against her bottom and brought a startled, “Ouch!” from her.

  “Sure you wanna sit again?” he asked.

  “No. But I like sitting on your lap.”

  He chuckled. “And I like having you sit on my lap. Maybe I like it too much…”

  Was that a reference to his Hollywood girlfriend? Jenna chose not to notice. Probably not a wise choice, but she didn’t have much time to think things out at that point. She resumed her position on his lap and hugged his neck.

  “I know you thought a lot of my dad, Jenna. Something you should know about me is that—that I think you probably had a better relationship with him than I did.”

  She straightened, looking at him. “How can that be? Your dad really loved you, Stone.”

  “He might’ve loved me, but I was a disappointment to him. A big disappointment.”

  Jenna saw his Adam’s apple rise and fall in a motion that seemed painful. “That’s hard to believe. The way he talked about you and all.”

  “Yeah? Well, the way the man talked to me when I was younger—ahh, you don’t want to hear this.”

  “I do. Yes, I do. Tell me, Stone.”

  He huffed out a sigh. “I’m not used to talking about this with anybody. Hell, I’m probably the only guy in the business who doesn’t have a therapist on speed dial.”

  “Oh, just tell me.”

  At her urging he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “My father always expressed his disappointment in me.”

  “In you or your choices?”

  “No, that’s giving him an out—or me, maybe. I’m the one getting the out. Both, actually. In me and my choices.”

  “He still loved you. I think he just had such high expectations of you. You were also his only son. And he left this place to all of you, but he had you in mind, specifically, to run it.” She took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re sure if you want to. Or is that…you don’t think you can?”

  “Do we really have to talk about this now?”

  “Is there a better time?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. “Like when?”

  “Like when I’m not thinking about doing this…”

  Once again Stone kissed her. That kiss was different—more possessive, hungrier. Jenna thought to stop him, get him focused back on their discussion. The best she could do was to place a hand on his chest with the intention of pushing him away.

  Her mouth had other ideas, however. She continued to kiss him, welcoming his tongue and relishing every second of the kiss.

  Her body hotly reacted to him. She wasn’t certain of that electricity coursing through her blood, but she knew she’d felt it before. As bad as the timing was, an alarm bell went off in her head and she finally stopped the kiss. By then he’d managed to envelop her in his arms and press her hard against him.

  “What about your girlfriend?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I—” Stone’s mouth was opened but nothing else came out.

  That was daunting to her. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t want you to be doing this with someone else.”

  “I’ve never done that to Ashley. Or to any woman…” For some reason, as silly as it was, she believed him. “And I wouldn’t do it to you, Jenna.”

  “So why are you doing this now? And you shouldn’t do this because…you mean somethin
g to me. You mean something and I’m not someone to enjoy one night and then you go right back to your big-shot actress girlfriend.”

  Get up. Get out of there. She knew what she had to do, yet it was hard to force herself off his lap. Everything inside her, especially her heart, began to ache. The color had drained from Stone’s face.

  “I mean something to you,” he repeated. “I thought you didn’t like me much.”

  How stupid can you be, admitting that to him? Jenna knew she should’ve kept her mouth shut. Now she’d really given him ammo to take advantage of her.

  But the truth was out. All she could do now was spill it. Perhaps, if he had any heart at all, he wouldn’t lead her on anymore.

  “I’ve—always thought about how wonderful it would be,” she said haltingly. “I mean…I saw you in your pictures and everybody talked about you…I just had this picture of you in my mind.”

  “Of a cowboy?” There was a sad sort of shadow to his grin. He rose to his full height and found his hat on the floor, slapping the hay off it against his thigh. “And all you got was this actor. You disappointed in me, too, Jenna? Is that it?”

  “No, Stone. You are who you are, and that’s enough.” Suddenly whatever she thought or felt before wasn’t important. All the assumptions she’d made were wiped away by the desire not to hurt him.

  And he was hurt. Maybe he was two percent or five percent cowboy, but there was enough cowboy in him to try to play the tough guy. She could still see it in his eyes, though, that he was hurt.

  “Well, that’s good to know. Because, Jenna, I’d never ask you to be anybody but who you are. You just being you is…is enough, too. That’s what’s got me confused.”

  It took her a moment before she could move. Jenna was positive that he could hear the pounding of her heart, growing stronger with every second that she remained in those stables with him. He’d been staring down at his boots but lifted his head to look back at her. His gaze alone made her want to throw caution to the wind and kiss him again.

  Or even more than that.

  And what was that part about being confused? Was that an admission that he had feelings for her, too? Was there more than just stolen kisses between them?

  “I’m—I’m confused, too,” she admitted, turning on her heel and quickly leaving the stables.

  She could hear him directly behind her, only a handful of steps away, moving slower than she was. Jenna willed herself not to turn around and continued walking in the direction of the house, if rather shakily. She would have made it all the way—and it wasn’t that far of a distance, anyway—without stopping, had she not spotted the unfamiliar car parked out in front of the house.

  Standing beside it was a woman she didn’t recognize immediately. Then Jenna realized she’d seen her on the Internet, in various pictures she’d managed to find when she’d searched for images relating to the name.

  Ashley Covington.

  From that distance, she didn’t look as gorgeous or glamorous as she did when the paparazzi captured her on the red carpet at a movie opening or when she was onscreen. Actually, she looked just like anyone else, although she was skinnier than most women Jenna knew. Those jeans had to be a size 0, and that white tube top highlighted her creamy, Southern California tan. Jenna watched the brunette staring up at the house; she distinctly saw her wrinkle her nose at it in disapproval.

  Then the woman turned and her mouth opened in a smile that, for some reason, Jenna suspected she’d practiced and perfected dozens of times in front of a mirror.

  “Stone, bay-beeeeeeee!” she squealed with delight.

  Jenna was on the porch but turned to see the actress sprinting daintily across the grass, ending her run by jumping into Stone’s arms. Those so-long-they-went-on-forever legs of hers wrapped around him as she planted a steaming hot kiss on his mouth.

  The same mouth Jenna had kissed less than half hour ago.

  Seeing red, she twirled around and stormed through the front door. No way she’d stick around to see more, though she could hear that Ashley creature greeting Stone with more kisses and going on and on about how much she’d missed him.

  Then the real kicker: “And look at you, baby—you look like a real cowboy! You really gotta play one in your next film!”

  Jenna didn’t care if they heard her or not. She slammed that front door behind her as loud as she could, so hard it seemed the house shook from top to bottom. How stupid of her to have believed him, all that talk about her confusing him.

  He was an actor. He was good at that sort of thing, at creating an illusion.

  Angrily, she bounded up the stairs to her room. She had no intentions whatsoever of meeting famous, hoity-toity Ms. Ashley Covington. But her heart was thundering inside her now and her eyes stung from tears she refused to shed.

  Stone had almost convinced her that he was who she’d imagined him to be. Almost.

  It was unbelievable, all the commotion Ashley had caused, just with her arrival. Then again, Ashley Covington caused a ruckus wherever she went. As a true diva, which is what she was, it came with the territory.

  Stone should have known better. He’d thought she was acting out of character when he saw her pull up the night before in that rented car, only one suitcase and a large but tasteful cosmetic bag in the trunk.

  “Ashley, hon, do you really need all this stuff?” he asked in between breaths as he lugged two suitcases from the car that had arrived that very next morning.

  Behind him, Jake carried one more suitcase and Donnie, one of the hands, had the last two.

  “Oh, honey, do you know how many fans hit me up for an autograph just at the airport alone?” Ashley tried to make her voice sound like a sultry coo, but it was still crystal-clear that she was whining. “You want me to look my best, don’t you, baby? And besides, ranches are such dusty places. That’s what Lynda told me. She told me to make sure I bring enough outfits, because everything’s going to get dusty.”

  “Aaaahhhhheee, ranches are dusty places!” Stone muttered under his breath.

  Lynda Randall. It was to the point where Ashley rarely made a move without consulting Lynda, her agent. The woman’s word was solid gold to her. Personally, Stone considered Lynda Randall an opportunist, a former wannabe who didn’t exactly throw in the towel when she reached her late forties and realized she was never going to make it as an actress; she simply devised a new and improved method for keeping herself in the limelight.

  And that was by leeching on to young, promising names. The most prominent of which she’d somehow managed to land as a client was Ashley. In addition to advising her most lucrative client to ditch her character actor boyfriend for somebody with more star power, which hadn’t exactly endeared Ms. Randall to Stone, she was constantly filling Ashley’s head with other ridiculous words of “wisdom”.

  Those wise tidbits now included, Ranches are dusty places.

  Stone was thoroughly aggravated with the whole situation, though he imagined nowhere near as much as Jenna was. She was coming out of her room right as he passed her door. When they made eye contact, he ventured a grin, only to have her glare back at him with icicles in her eyes. She then glided past him, careful not even to brush against him. Stone shook his head in total irritation.

  So much for all the progress they’d made the previous evening. They’d gotten to the point where they’d actually been communicating. He’d even suspected it might have gone further than that, where they would have been doing more than talking. He’d wanted it to progress to something much, much more intimate. Then Ashley had gone and shown up, ruining everything.

  Where had that attitude come from? Ashley was, after all, his fiancée. Warts and all, she had more in common with him than Jenna did.

  Warts? What warts? Just who was he kidding? Ashley was perfect. Or so all the directors and producers and other people who’d worked with her claimed. Ashley Covington, at least on the surface, was the Perfect Woman—perfectly shaped, perfect face, perfect beauty,
perfect everything.

  But you sure as hell ain’t perfect. If you were, you’d be commanding leading man roles—not playing the villain or the best buddy, etc.

  “Would you be a honey and put away all my clothes? Neatly, of course.”

  Turning, Stone was about to explain that he had work to do and that Ashley would have to undertake that task for herself. That was when he realized she’d directed that request to Jenna, who stood on the staircase with one hand on the banister.

  “Tell you what, princess,” she shot back at a stunned Ashley. “You be a ‘honey’ and put your own crap away. I’ve got work to do. And even if I didn’t, I am not your maid.”

  With that, Jenna proceeded to storm down the stairs without one look back over her shoulder at either Ashley or Stone. Having gotten over her shock, Ashley flounced over to him, her hands fastened to her hips.

  “Is that the kind of people you have working for you?” she demanded. “How can I be expected to put all this away by myself? Make her come back here. Or better yet—fire her!”

  “Ashley, shhh!” He guided her by one skinny arm into the master bedroom. “Fire Jenna? I can’t fire Jenna.”

  “You can’t fire her? Who’s the boss here?” Ashley grew even more livid, her voice rising with anger. “Are you going to let her speak to me that way? You’re letting her get away with that?”

  “I’ll talk to Jenna about it. But I’m not going to fire her. Jenna’s valuable to the ranch, Ashley.” Stone paused, licking his lips and giving himself a moment to form his argument. “She’s right about what she said. She’s not your maid or your assistant. This place runs as well as it does because of her.”

  Ashley narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, I see. What went on between you two before I got here?”

  “What went on? Nothing went on between us!” He turned away, but only for a moment.

  “Stone, she acts like she’s resentful of me. More than other women are usually jealous of me,” she pointed out, haughtily. “Of course, she’s not as pretty as I am, but obviously, she’s also the only woman here. You sure nothing happened between you since you’ve been here?”