Risk It

by Isabelle Drake

  He shifted, trying to ignore the fact that his dick was starting to get stiff.

  Even so, for that weekend in particular he had only one goal—use the event to get his cooking noticed. This weekend was his one chance to catch the attention of Ted Aaron, the owner of Cheyenne East, a soon-to-open upscale restaurant in the city featuring open-flame, campfire-style cooking. After all he’d done to convince the man to watch the Get Tied Down Challenge clips to check out his cooking technique, he didn’t need to get mixed up with some game show vixen out to sleep her way around. Nope. That woman wasn’t for him. He needed to focus on his cooking so he could secure a job for when he moved back to the city to finish grad school in the fall.

  Still, he’d have one more look at that picture, to know what it was he wouldn’t be getting. He expanded the picture again. There was a dusting of freckles across her nose and her chin was a bit pointed. Green eyes, maybe? Delicate neck, kissable collarbones. If only the neckline of the dress were lower, he could get a better look at the tops of her breasts.

  Stop looking at the picture. She isn’t for you. Think about the work.

  The owner of the Triple B, Jerry Black, had let Connor know that because the Real DC camera crews would be filming throughout the weekend Connor actually had to pay attention to the dress code he partially ignored. Boots, jeans, plaid shirt with a red bandana at the neck—and a cowboy hat exactly like the one Gwen was waving in the photo. The upside of being dressed like a mountain cowboy? She probably wouldn’t even glance at him. He could only hope because he didn’t think he could even manage a polite hello.

  He lowered the phone and closed his eyes. He’d meant the gesture to get her out of his sight, but his mind picked up where the photo left off and he was imagining his fingers on the thin straps of the dress, pulling one strap down then the other. No bra underneath and her pale skin was dotted with enough freckles for him to make a point of kissing each one. After he’d kissed that mouth.

  Damn.

  His cock was getting stiffer.

  Connor opened his eyes and forced himself to look around, hoping for something to distract him from the images in his mind. About twenty feet away was the fire pit. The grate rested against the trunk of an oak tree near the water hydrant.

  Occasionally guests would use the hydrant during the day, preferring the fresh well water over the bottled water they served with the meals. Gwen Baker didn’t seem the type to appreciate the taste of mountain water enough to go to the trouble of pumping the long, awkward handle.

  But what if she was?

  He could see her standing at the pump, arms outstretched, bent at the waist, using her lithe body to force the arm down. She was wearing that dress, the breeze blowing the hem up each time she bent, the opening at the neck dropping down so he could see her breasts, bouncing from the movement. Suddenly, for no good reason, the Gwen in his mind was wet, the thin fabric of her dress hugging her body, the long strands of her black hair clinging to her cheeks as she smiled at him.

  Shit. It’s going to be a long couple days.

  Connor considered going back to his cabin to jack off but knew it wouldn’t do much good because that image—and all the others he’d conjured up—would be taunting him all weekend. So he concentrated on watching the leaves twist in the afternoon breeze. A chipmunk skittered across the trail that led to what Jerry—always one for cowboy slang—called the cantina.

  Once his cock had settled down, he lifted his phone to read the rest of the post.

  After the general details of the event was a list of the three ‘hotties’ who were going to compete for the hat. Connor read the descriptions—a White House clerk who attended Georgetown Law School, a DJ who did sets all around the world and some dude described as a genius who’d graduated from high school when he was fifteen but had never gone to college because he was a gaming nerd who wrote game code.

  Couldn’t they find one average guy in all of DC? A guy who sold suits at Men’s Wearhouse or someone who painted houses for a living? Apparently, the readers of Capitol Girl weren’t interested in reality.

  “This is looking great. Nice work.” Jerry strolled up and looked around the campfire area, taking in the results of Connor’s earlier work, the neatly stacked wood, grate ready for cooking and freshly cut stumps for seating.

  Connor set his phone on his thigh and gave Jerry a smug smile. “You expected something else?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “Course not.”

  “What?” Connor waited. Jerry never passed up a chance to deliver a snappy come back. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

  “Bit of a problem,” Jerry said, sliding his hands into his back pockets.

  Connor’s stomach knotted.

  Jerry frowned. “The delivery you’re expecting isn’t coming until Saturday morning.”

  His four-course gourmet meal for tomorrow—the one that he’d designed to impress Ted—gone. “That’s not a little problem.”

  “I know you. You’ll come up with something else.” Jerry slipped his hands from his pockets. “I’ll leave you to, um…coming up with whatever else you can whip up.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sure thing.” Jerry pivoted and headed off.

  Damn.

  Chapter Two

  The view from Gwen’s car window was even worse than she’d anticipated. No, worse wasn’t the right word. Rustic, that was the word. She wrapped her fingers around the keys still hanging from the ignition and glanced in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess and she’d left in such a rush she’d forgotten makeup. Good thing the events didn’t start until later. There was time to get herself ready for the cameras. She twisted back, grabbed her bag from the back seat then was startled by a thump on the hood of her car.

  Gwen easily recognized Sookie Smith, thanks to all the billboards around DC announcing Sookie as the most outlandish producer in the city of DC. With her bleach blonde hair sticking out in all directions, her blue nails flashing in the sun and white rhinestone studded cowboy boots, the woman was a walking talking collection of contradictions.

  “We need a kiss, Gwen. Like now. We’re going live in thirty and we need some hot, hot, hot pics to entice and we need them pronto.” She was yelling through the window, her glossy red lips a blur of movement as she said more that Gwen couldn’t make out. She rapped on the window. “Let’s go, sweetheart. We need some serious mouth-on-mouth action.”

  Stunned into submission, Gwen let go of her bag.

  “Yes, darling. Right this minute.” The blonde backed away from the car, circling her hand to indicate Gwen should get out.

  Gwen pulled the keys from the ignition, tossed them into her bag then climbed out. “Hi, I’m Gwen.” She held out her hand.

  “Of course you are.” Sookie shooed away Gwen’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go!”

  “But—” Gwen tried to run her fingers through her tangled hair. No use. It was a mess. “Can I have a minute to…?”

  “No minutes.” The producer didn’t wait for Gwen to agree. She spun and stomped off, her blonde hair not moving despite the speed of her departure.

  Ten steps later, Sookie spun around. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

  “I’m wearing…” She tugged on her wrinkled skirt and then fingered the hem of her souvenir Disney T-shirt.

  Sookie looked Gwen over, frowning, but waved at the same cameraman from last week. “Kevin? You can take care of that with the angle, right?”

  As soon as he nodded, he jogged ahead, heading to an opening between clusters of trees. Sookie spun back around and marched away.

  Gwen followed. The contract she’d signed stated that she agreed to do whatever Sookie told her to. There was a section that described what would happen if she didn’t go along but Gwen had mostly skimmed that because at the time, she’d been thrilled at the opportunity to use their event as her event. No, a dude ranch probably wasn’t the ideal place to show off cocktail and party dresses but…well,
she’d make do.

  “The funny thing is,” Gwen said to Sookie once she’d caught up with her, “I thought I heard you say you needed a kiss.”

  “Actually, you’re the one who needs a kiss.” Sookie jerked to a stop and started waving to a man down the trail. Once she had his attention, she started yelling again. “Kevin! You are filming, right?”

  The cameraman stepped out from behind a tree. He didn’t even move the camera away from his face as he spoke. “Yes, Sookie.” Then, without missing a beat, he added, “Gwen, honey, stop messing with your hair, and chest up and out, okay? We’re going for more of a sexy come-hither look. Not that shell-shocked, ‘I don’t know what the hell is happening’ thing you’ve got going now.”

  Gwen gave up on her hair and tried to walk sexy enough to satisfy Kevin.

  Still filming, the cameraman asked Sookie, “Who is she going to kiss? The men won’t be here for a couple hours.”

  “That guy over by that campfire place.” Sookie waved her hand above her shoulder, indicating the direction she was headed.

  How could anyone walk that fast in those ridiculous boots?

  Gwen began jogging to keep up but her breasts started bouncing wildly so she slowed down.

  “That was awesome. Your tits looked great,” Kevin yelled. “Do that again.”

  Before she had the chance to scowl at his crudeness, she spotted Sookie grabbing a guy by the shoulders and pulling him over toward her. He looked like he’d been imported from out West somewhere—boots, jeans, plaid shirt, bandana around his neck and a black cowboy hat. He was even carrying a pile of wood and, she realized when she was near enough to see the fine sheen of sweat over his tanned neck, it was the cowboy who’d come to her doorstep.

  Sookie was shoving him from behind now. “Please drop the pile of wood and kiss this woman. Kevin, film from the back so nobody can tell who he is.” Sookie gave the guy one last shove then moved aside, adding in Gwen’s general direction, “He looks good enough, right? Go for it.”

  He stumbled forward, still clutching the wood. He looked her over, his square shoulders completely still as his gaze swept across her. The smile from the other day was gone and a guarded expression in its place.

  Gwen stared at his tan, strong-looking fingers gripping the rough wood. His knuckles glistened with sweat and the backs of his hands were dotted with dirt. The plaid fabric of his shirt molded to his biceps, hinting at a lean, hard body beneath.

  “What? You have something on your mind?” he asked, his voice low and soft enough that probably only she could hear.

  She stood there, silently staring at his powerful looking hands then widened out her gaze to include those arms. That sweat. The smear of dirt running across his jaw, leading the way to his full lips. He was nothing like the tidy, polished to perfection men she saw in DC every day.

  He turned sharply to Sookie. “You want me to kiss her?”

  “That’s right. Is there a problem?”

  Gwen didn’t blame him for staring at Sookie. She was feeling the same way—blindsided. There was something else stirring inside her too. Curiosity. They had already kissed once. If you could call that tiny, quick press a kiss. How would it feel a second time? Suddenly, she needed to know.

  Still. Was being turned on by this random rugged guy acceptable behavior?

  Judging by the expression on the guy’s face the answer to that would be no, certainly not.

  Sookie was not caring that her request was, well…not rude, given the circumstances, but it was definitely crossing a boundary of some sort. “You do know about the weekend, right?” Her bracelets jangled as she waved her hands. “Jerry promised me the staff would cooperate. What are you waiting for? Start cooperating. And make it steam, steam steamy. Sex sells.”

  There was a beat of weighed silence then he grunted, threw the pile of wood aside and grabbed Gwen. He hauled her up, pulling her so against him that Gwen could feel the damp sweat of his chest and the demanding press of his thighs as his legs pushed into hers. The scent of the wood he’d been carrying mingled with the tang of his skin, the potent combination making her pulse skitter. When Gwen took a sharp breath, she would have sworn she smelled the denim of his jeans and the leather of his boots.

  He shoved his hat back then pressed his mouth across hers at the same time he lowered one arm to wrap it around the small of her back. The black brim blocked out the sun but even without the shade, Gwen’s eyes would have drifted shut because the kiss required her full attention. It wasn’t just right. It was damn near perfect.

  As he moved his lips across hers, he dropped his hand to her ass. Not low enough to feel the full swell of her ass cheeks, but the touch sent signals throughout Gwen’s lower body, making her knees buckle. When she shocked herself by moaning, he opened his fingers and grabbed her butt cheek, pulling her closer still, so tightly against his body that she felt his hipbone.

  No, definitely not his hipbone.

  Gwen felt another moan rise in her chest and made the conscious choice to give in. She was just about to angle her head back to give him deeper access to her mouth when a shrill shout came from behind.

  “No, no, no.” The voice came out of nowhere, followed by a sudden jerk on Gwen’s shoulder, pulling her back and creating a space between their bodies so wide that he let go of her ass. A chill swept across her and she raised her arms across her chest. She blinked against the suddenly piercing rays of the sun. Maybe it was the reality of the situation that was shocking her system.

  Sookie circled around the two of them, waving her arms, obviously oblivious to the shift of the ground and the sudden temperature spike. “We need the shot without the hat.” She sliced her hands between the two of them, making it clear she wanted them to break it up. “Otherwise the viewers will think she’s already chosen you.”

  “And we can’t have that, right?” he asked, grabbing the top of the hat and looking at Gwen’s arms, still folded across her flushed skin.

  “Absolutely right. That would ruin everything. Because then what would be the point of watching?” She took the hat and backed away, wobbling as her heels sunk into a bed of pine needles.

  The guy ran both hands through his short hair, shoving it back at odd angles. With the hat out of the way, she was able to get a better look at his face. The cute flush on his cheeks made an otherwise ruggedly masculine face almost boyish. The wide set green eyes and square jaw provided an intriguing contrast.

  Sookie came up behind her, set her hands on Gwen’s shoulders and started moving her around, mumbling to herself about the best place for the shot.

  If Connor had a mind to—which he didn’t—he could’ve been more pleasant and positive about the whole thing. As it was, the only thing he was positive about at that exact second was that he wanted no part of this…this manufactured…

  Oh hell.

  He marched forward, grabbed Gwen, and jerked her toward him more roughly than he’d meant to. When she gasped, he paused and said, “I guess I have to kiss you again. Okay?”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  The panic in her gaze made him lean close and whisper. “Maybe you want to drop your arms? Might look nicer that way. Like you actually want me to do it.”

  She lowered her arms. Then he wished he hadn’t said anything because he noticed the peaks of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her Snow White T-shirt and that mind-numbing rush of desire he’d been trying to deny during that first kiss came back with an unforgiving vengeance. This was one of those times his brain told him to back down, or in this case, ease off, but as always he ignored the warning and went after what he wanted.

  Their bodies came together even better than before. It was easier to get close this time, without the giant hat, and after that first kiss, he knew right where to put his arm to get her positioned.

  The press of their mouths started much in the same way as the other but about the time he thought he was going to take control of things and angle his head to eas
e her lips apart, she shocked him by arching into him, effectively brushing her breasts against his chest and stealing all the air from his lungs. She slid her tongue across his bottom lip then his top. Instinctively he lowered his head and pressed harder.

  This second time she was the one setting the pace and intensity of the exchange, all with the slight movement of her firm body. The first time he’d been so intent on making a show of the kiss that he hadn’t taken the time to notice the soft swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist or the way his cock pressed into her pelvic bone—and the sweet smell of her, like lemon and ginger.

  When she snaked her arms around his neck, the force of the kiss exploded. Connor groaned then realized the sound came from him, not her. Impossible? No. She was in total control—no hammering heart, no panting and certainly no moaning for her. Connor willed himself to loosen his grip only to realize again it was her holding their bodies fused.

  The kiss went on longer, him responding to her and her taking what she wanted. Finally, after the blood in his veins had turned to fire and his dick was so hard it nearly hurt, she moved her mouth back, loosened her grip, and took a step away. His body refused to accept that the kiss was over. His heart was still thundering, his cock stiff.

  Sookie and Kevin were already walking away, their backs disappearing behind the maple trees arching across the trail.

  “Guess they got what they wanted,” she said with an easy shrug, causing the smooth fabric of her top to brush across her peaked nipples. Maybe the kiss had had an impact on her after all.

  “Yeah,” he replied, annoyed at the needy rasp in his voice.

  “See you later.” She turned to go but stopped, moved her tangled hair away from her face as she looked at him over her shoulder, her dark lashes sweeping. “Thanks?”

  Forget it, he told himself. This—she—isn’t for you. Connor jerked his head in a nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

  She offered him an unsure smile then turned back around a walked off.