Daring Her SEAL (17 page)

“If I beg, will you use the key?”

She smiled. Slowly. His Dixie knew exactly what she was doing
to him. “If you want to explore your kinky side, all you have to do is ask.”

“Let's play a game.” He wiggled his hips. “You bring the
champagne and sit here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is this where I get to interrogate you
about why you committed at least one felony and broke into my house?”

“Sure.”

She hesitated, but then she climbed up onto the bed and threw a
leg over him. The cuffs wouldn't allow him to pull her higher, but that didn't
mean he was without options. He curled his lower body up, bumping her into
place. She shrieked and champagne splashed on him. “You're gonna need to clean
that up.”

She wriggled, making herself comfortable and him uncomfortable.
“Seriously? No. Don't answer that. Just tell me the rules of the game.”

“The name of the game is Never Have I Ever.” She squirmed and
he groaned. This had better be the world's fastest game or he wasn't going to
last. “It's simple. I say something I haven't done. If you've done it, you
drink.”

Frowning, she eyed the level in the champagne bottle. “You
should have bought a bigger bottle.”

“I bought you the good stuff, too. Now shut up and listen,
because I'm going first.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he wasn't kidding. He had
something to say and she was going to listen. Bringing his knees up, he nudged
her. Just a little. She landed off balance on his chest, mouth inches from his.
Before she could catch her breath, he started.

“Never have I ever... I've never fallen in love before.”

She frowned, lifted the bottle to her mouth, and paused. “I'm
not sure my grammar's good enough for this.”

“You been in love before?”

She shoved upright and jammed a finger into his chest. “Who's
interrogating who here? And what does
before
mean?
Before what?”

Maybe this would have been easier if he'd waited until she
finished the bottle. “Just drink. You're spoiling my plan.”

She hesitated—the woman had serious control issues—but then she
drank.

“Never have I ever...asked the woman I love to marry me.”

She drank. “I can safely say I've never proposed to a
woman.”

“Never have I ever not fallen for you.”

She got that cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows again.
Then she scooted around on his lap again. “Your grammar's killing me. I think I
need a diagram.”

“I'm trying to be romantic,” he gritted out, because the way
she was sliding her red thong—and other things—over his dick had cut off the
supply of blood to his brain.

“Huh.” The frown got deeper. “Roses and champagne are a little
clichéd, don't you think? Plus I'm not sure felony burglary really endears you
to me. What if I hadn't figured out it was you?”

“You didn't answer the last question,” he pointed out. “You
have to confess—or drink. Do you love me? I gotta be perfectly honest about one
thing, babe.”

She glared at him. Shit. Was she teary-eyed? “If you change
your mind after saying all that stuff, I will kill you.”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. I love you. I think I've been
in love with you since you kissed the hell out of me in that alley behind the
Best Ride. I know you weren't planning on getting married on Fantasy Island, and
neither was I, but it turned out to be the best damned accident of my life, and
I'd like to do it again. On purpose. If you could take a chance on me? I'd be
grateful.”

* * *

A
SHLEY
TRIED
TO
focus on Levi, trying to read his expression. “You don't
do relationships.”

“You're gonna be my first. And my last.” A smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth.

“You're serious?”
Please, please be
serious.

“Babe, that's what the handcuffs are all about.” She must have
looked blank, because he continued. “I'm here to stay. I'm sticking for as long
as you want me.”

Oh. God. If she cried, she'd have to kill herself.

He wasn't done talking, though. “When we were on the island,
you
said the only way I'd stick was if I was
handcuffed.”

“So you thought you'd prove your undying love for me by
handcuffing yourself to my bed?”

“Something like that.” He grinned, looking more than a little
sheepish.

This was probably the point where she should trot out an
I love you
speech of her own. Because she did. Love
him. But she didn't have any cute games or clever words. All she had were her
feelings for him.

“You gonna say something?” he asked when she just sat there and
stared at him.

“You really want to get married?” Because it was impulsive and
reckless and...she wanted to do it. She really did. She just needed the right
reason.

“I love you. I just drove fifteen hours straight to get here so
I could tell you.”

“Do I have to give you a speech?”

“Nope. All you have to do is tell me that you love me
back.”

She swung off him and padded toward her abandoned jacket.
“You're headed the wrong way,” he said. “In case you didn't realize it.”

There was a note of vulnerability in his voice she hadn't heard
before, so she made her errand quick. The little box was right where she'd left
it, tucked in the pocket of her jacket. Maybe this was stupid. On the other
hand, he'd handcuffed himself to the bed and she definitely wanted to take the
chance he was offering. Take a chance on them, take a chance on love.

“I love you,” she admitted softly, returning to the bed. “I
have something to show you.”

Flipping the box open, she turned it around so he could see the
ring. When she'd seen it, it had made her think of Levi and their time on the
island. The band was silver, but she'd fallen in love with the green emerald in
the middle. It was the color of palm trees, and it made her think of the island.
Of him.

Shoot. Maybe she shouldn't have done it. “I know it's
silly.”

He looked up at her. “It's perfect. Are you asking me to marry
you, Dixie?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a deep, tremulous breath. “I am.”

He groaned. “You couldn't have told me this
before
I went to all this trouble and tied myself to
the bed?”

“You're a US Navy SEAL. I'll bet you can get out of those cuffs
in under thirty seconds.
Before
I lose my bra and
panties.”

“You're on.” He grinned at her. “What do I get when I win?”

“Me,” she whispered, and it didn't take him thirty seconds.
More like two, so the man had definitely cheated. She shrieked when his arms
came around her, and God, she hoped her neighbors had remembered to close their
windows.

“You really gonna put a ring on me?” he growled, pulling her
back against him and threading his fingers through hers.

“You bet.” The air left her lungs, something happier and
headier replacing it. Love. Affection. Tenderness. And a sense of homecoming
that had nothing to do with where she was, and everything to do with the man
holding her. She slid the ring onto his finger, admiring the fit.

“Just so you know,” he said, and she knew a promise when she
heard one, “I always collect on my bets.”

“You've got me.” Screw it. She wasn't a girly girl and she was
more than a little impatient, so she put his ring on her finger. The pink pearl
in its circle of diamonds winked up at her, and she smiled.

“Each other,” he allowed, brushing a kiss over her mouth.

“Yes,” she said immediately, wrapping her arms around him
because holding on to him was the best chance, the best dare she'd ever made.
“Win or lose, we'll always have each other.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
COME CLOSER, COWBOY
by Debbi
Rawlins.

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Come Closer, Cowboy

by Debbi Rawlins

1

M
ALLORY
HAD
DISAPPEARED
.
Without a single word. Without so much as leaving a voice mail.

Gunner Ellison stood at the open door to the Renegade and slipped off his sunglasses. He'd expected to see her standing behind the bar just like always, staring back at him with those sexy green eyes and that killer smile. But the place was empty. The solid oak tables and chairs were gone. So was the pool table, the jukebox and the dartboard. In the window was a sign that said Closed for Good.

Too many sleepless nights and the long plane ride had nearly knocked him on his ass. Exhausted, Gunner rubbed his eyes, hoping this was nothing but a bad dream. Then he took another bleak look around.

Everything. Gone.

He just didn't get it. She still had another week left on her lease. They'd talked about her raising drink prices in order to meet the steep rent hike. Other stuntmen he worked and drank with, and even the bikers who crowded her Valencia bar at all hours, none of them would've cared. Not if it meant keeping Mallory in business.

This was crazy. They were friends, damn it, and he'd offered to help her. Couldn't she have waited for him to get back before giving up the place?

He'd been working on location in Argentina for four weeks. They'd talked a couple times after he'd first gotten there. But then she'd stopped taking his calls. And he had a terrible feeling he knew why.

They'd had sex. In the back room the night before he'd left. On the pool table, against the wall and maybe even on the old oak bar itself.

They'd both had a few drinks, though he hadn't been too drunk when he'd pulled her into his arms. Maybe she'd been more wasted than he'd thought—she rarely had more than a beer around closing time—but something about that night had made them wild for each other. Tearing at each other's clothes. Slow, deep kisses until neither of them could breathe. He'd tried to figure it out. Every night as he'd lain awake, remembering the taste of her, or the way she'd moaned.

“Can I help you, mister?” An older man wearing stained work clothes and mopping his bald head came from the back room.

“Any idea when the Renegade closed?”

“We started remodeling over a week ago. Got called at the last minute.”

Gunner swept a final gaze around the room. For ten years he'd been coming here. The place held a lot of memories, not just of Mallory. He'd felt like he belonged here after he'd gotten his shot in the stunt business. Coop, Mallory's dad, had been a stuntman himself, hurt bad before he opened the bar. But he and the other guys who'd hung out at the Renegade had made Gunner, a damn rookie in the Stuntmen's Association, feel like one of them.

Mallory had taken over the day after Coop's funeral. It was going on six years now, but the place had been her home since her mother had run off.

“Well, mister, I'm afraid you're gonna have to leave. It's quitting time and I'm locking up.”

Gunner nodded. He'd forgotten the guy was there.

Pulling out his phone, he headed for his truck. He tried Mallory. And was sent straight to voice mail. She was really starting to piss him off.

He drove to her apartment on Rye Canyon, anger simmering in his gut. He was too exhausted for this bullshit. So they'd had sex. Didn't mean they had to avoid each other.

Though he'd never been inside, he knew her unit was on the ground floor at the end. He didn't see her car and cruised past a U-Haul truck that was blocking his view.

Gunner slowed when he saw a young woman with dark hair carrying a box into the apartment. Mallory's apartment. His heart jumped a few gears and shot into overdrive.

When the woman emerged and headed to the U-Haul, Gunner lowered his window. “Excuse me. A friend of mine used to live in your apartment. Do you have any idea where she moved?”

She paused a moment. “I think Montana.”

Montana?
What the hell? Who did Mallory know in—

Shit
. “Hey, thanks,” he said, and pulled out. At the next corner, he stopped and grabbed his phone.

He didn't have many people on speed dial, but Ben Wolf was one of them. If Mallory had moved to Montana it was because of their friend Wolf. After Gunner got some answers, then maybe he'd be able to get a good night's sleep. Without dreaming of Mallory's long, slender legs wrapped around his waist.

* * *

“I
S
THERE
ANY
chance at all you can still get here by this evening?” Mallory Brandt asked, then held the phone a foot away from her ear. The man had to be near deaf. His voice was so loud she could've heard him from the back room.

“No, ma'am. It's my truck,” Dexter said. “The brakes are shot. Gotta get them replaced.”

“Okay.” Granted, she knew nothing about cars, but she suspected his brakes hadn't suddenly crapped out without warning. When she'd responded to his ad for the used mechanical bull, Dexter had promised he could deliver it by today. “So, that means...what?”

“Mebbe you can borrow a vehicle and pick Fanny up yourself,” Dexter said, a shrewd dip in his tone. “I'll knock off forty bucks.”

Mallory rubbed her bloodshot eyes. So that's what this was about...he'd decided he didn't want to drive the seventy miles to Blackfoot Falls. “Not possible,” she said, wondering if he knew that a bull was male. “New brakes can't be cheap. Maybe
you
can borrow another truck and deliver Fanny. That way you'll have money to pay for your repair.”

Dexter sighed. “Mebbe tomorrow.”

“Let me know.” She disconnected the call and kept her cussing to a low murmur.

She was alone in the front of the bar. Mike, the finish carpenter, was tending to a few details in the back where the bull would be set up. If the stupid thing ever made it. Damn, she'd really wanted it here for opening tonight.

Oh, well, she'd been warned that people operated at a slower pace here in northwest Montana. She shouldn't let a minor delay annoy her. Everything had gone smoothly with the renovations. The big old saloon had sat empty and neglected for fifteen years according to Sadie, who owned the Watering Hole, the only other bar for miles, and who was also the mayor.

When Mallory had questioned the need for another drinking establishment, she was assured she'd have all the business she could handle. Things were looking up in the small town. The ranchers who'd suffered from the poor economy had begun hiring men again. Other changes in the area had brought some tourism, and a film crew was shooting a Western miniseries around the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

After three weeks, she was still in awe of them. Of course she'd seen the Rockies many times in movies and in photos. But here, all she had to do was step outside the bar for a perfect view of the snowcapped peaks unfazed by the July heat.

No wonder the area drew directors and location scouts—with a little help from Ben, an ex-stuntman she'd gotten to know at the Renegade. He'd quit stunt work to buy a ranch and raise movie stock. He'd talked up the beauty of Montana and word had spread.

Kind of ironic, Mallory thought as she skimmed her hand over the newly varnished oak bar, that she had come fourteen hundred miles to get away from Hollywood and it just might be those same folks who'd keep her in business.

No, not true. She hadn't been trying to escape Hollywood. Just Gunner. And ridiculous California rents. Mostly Gunner, though.

God, she was such an idiot.

If she hadn't wanted to, there wouldn't have been enough tequila in the world to get her so drunk she'd have sex with him. Though she'd had no problem letting him think otherwise. But yes, she'd known exactly what she was getting herself into, and she'd done it anyway. Just yanked off her shirt. Let him peel off her jeans, then helped him pull down his.

And then she'd been in his arms, his strong, muscled arms, being lifted onto the pool table, his hot, demanding mouth making her his slave. Not for life. She had some pride.

But holy hell.

The very least he could've done was be a lousy kisser. How easily she could've pushed him away then. Kissing was key. If a guy didn't pass that test, he was dead to her.

Wow, but Gunner... What he could do with that clever mouth of his...

She gulped in a lungful of air. Great. She was getting warm just thinking about it. Which wasn't good considering she'd been trying very hard to forget that night.

She picked up the piece of notebook paper with her formidable to-do list on it and fanned herself. No use pining over him. Gunner was the type of man who belonged to all women, not just one. She'd known that even before she'd snatched that forbidden taste. And he didn't seem to mind taking advantage of the many offers slipped to him with a whisper or a glance, a blatant invitation.

In all fairness, she had to admit he never encouraged the attention. But at six foot two with those broad shoulders, wavy dark hair and that sexy baritone, women took notice.

Basically, he was one of those rare and fortunate men who didn't have to work at being hot. Yes, he took fitness seriously, but keeping in shape went with his job.

Well, she didn't have to worry about Gunner popping in and catching her off guard, or watching women throwing themselves at him anymore, now, did she?

Sighing, Mallory glanced around her new bar with equal parts satisfaction, anxiety and sadness. By working at a breakneck pace since day one, she'd fallen into bed each night too exhausted to allow for second thoughts.

But she had a few lurking in the back of her mind. While her LA customers weren't really friends, they were her
people
. She'd known many of the old scoundrels her whole life. And she missed them. Missed the same stupid jokes they'd told a million times, missed the teasing winks and good-natured arguing over darts or cards.

And she'd disappointed all of them. She knew that for a fact, and it hurt. Because all of this was her fault. No, she couldn't have afforded the new rent, but she hadn't even shopped around for a new place in the area or explored other options.

Whether or not she adjusted to life in Blackfoot Falls she was here to stay. She'd sunk everything she had into this place.

All because she'd crossed a line that night, a line she could never uncross. And now she wanted Gunner with a burning ache that wouldn't ease. Her only hope was that time and distance would cure what was seriously ailing her. And if she was really lucky, she'd stop feeling so shitty for not returning his calls.

“Things must be going well if you've got time to stand there gathering wool.” Sadie had slipped in without Mallory hearing the door. Which meant Mike must've oiled the hinges. The man was a godsend. Sadie frowned. “You poor child. You don't even know what that means.”

“Yes, I do. I was just...” Mallory sighed. “I don't know what I was doing. I'm probably in shock. If I pass out can I count on the honor system tonight?”

Sadie chuckled. “Everything looks real nice,” she said, inspecting the room, her gaze lingering on the Full Moon Saloon banner Mallory had put up above the mirrors behind the bar and, right under that, a sign that said No Fighting, or You Will Be Banned. Sadie smiled with approval. She might look like a classic grandma. Inside she was made of pure steel. “I'm glad you brought those oak tables and chairs with you. They match the bar like they were made for each other. I see the jukebox and pool table got here. What about the mechanical bull?”

“No.” Mallory pressed her lips together to stop a curse. Even though she'd heard Sadie cut loose on a cocky young cowboy at the Watering Hole.

“That might not be a bad thing,” Sadie said. “I'm guessing you'll have all you can handle tonight. Who have you got coming in?”

“Elaine. She's the only waitress I hired.”

“Oh, honey, my place is half this size and I have three gals. You'll be plenty busy, I can guarantee you that.”

“My old bar was about the size of the Watering Hole and I worked mostly by myself. Pouring, serving, you name it. But I'm pretty quick.”

Sadie gave her a dry look.

“No offense.”

She just smiled.

Mallory guessed the woman was about the same age as her mom. But Sadie had done more for her in the past three weeks than Mallory's mother had seen fit to do in the twelve years she'd bothered to stick around.

“Sadie, have I told you how much I appreciate what you—”

“Yes. About a hundred times. Now hush.” Sadie gestured at the floor. “Lord knows how you put a little gleam in that pine but it won't last long. Have you noticed some of the boots on these cowboys? I had to put down heavy-duty mats.” She snorted. “They wouldn't stop three seconds to stomp off the dry mud.”

Mallory grinned. “I bet you didn't let them get away with that.”

“Hell, no. I refused to serve them.”

“Now, I sure hope you're not talking about me, Mayor Thompson,” Mike said, coming from the back room with a loose stride and an easy smile.

Sadie turned to look at him. “Don't you Mayor Thompson me, young man. Sorriest decision of my life, running for office. I should've let that old windbag Leland keep the damn job.”

“Then where would we be? He would've shot down the Hollywood people. You're helping the town make some money without letting it be overrun.”

“You two might be the only folks who believe that.”

“Lots of people are on your side, Sadie.” Mike unbuckled his tool belt. “It's the naysayers making all the noise. Nothing new there. I need to grab some lunch. You wanna come, Mallory? I know you haven't eaten.” He glanced at Sadie. “You, too. I'm buying.”

Mallory pressed a hand to her nervous tummy. “No, thanks.”