Cowboy Casanova (13 page)

“You look ready. Knock ’em dead, tiger.”

“Aren’t you coming in with me?”

“Have you taken a good look at me? The last thing you need is them seeing me tracking mud and shit across their brand new carpet. I’ll stay in the truck.”

Ben sank into his leather seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes, wishing he could take a catnap. He’d had a restless night, thinking about Angel. Wondering if he’d recognize her without that funky-ass wig. Wondering how her real hair would feel wrapped in his fists as he fucked her mouth. His flashbacks made the crotch in his jeans uncomfortably tight, forcing him to redirect his thoughts.

He studied the building’s clean lines. He’d built his log house himself and appreciated how form and function affected design, yet retained an artistic feel. As he thought about art, he remembered his cousin Carter had been commissioned for a large sculpture for this bank. Ben always loved seeing what works his crazy-talented cousin created. He was already here. He might as well sneak in and have a quick look-see.

The inside of the bank was as impressive as the outside. The place was busy and no one took notice of him as he stopped in front of the massive sculpture, prominently displayed beneath a circular skylight. A rusty chain enclosed the art—a horse head carved from wood, surrounded by twisted sections of metal of varying heights, sizes and finishes that gave the impression the horse was running through tall, native grasses.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

He recognized that sultry voice immediately. Ben spun around so fast he made himself dizzy and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Angel?”

Her jaw nearly hit the floor. “Bennett? You… What are you doing here?”

Before he could answer, a hearty hand landed on his shoulder. “Ben! I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”

Dazed, he glanced at Bill, his insurance agent, who’d inserted himself between him and Angel.

Bill said, “What brings the elusive Ben McKay to town?”

“Checking out Carter’s latest piece of art.”
Now go the fuck away.

“So you’re not shopping for a new bank?”

“Maybe.” Ben kept his focus on the woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.

Bill kept yapping. “I reckon Steve Talbot would take issue with that, since the McKays have always banked with Settler’s First. Although this bank president is much prettier than Steve.”

“You’re president of this bank?” Ben said with total shock.

Her eyes turned frosty.

“Look, Bill, how’s about you don’t mention to Steve you saw me in here and I won’t mention to him I saw you?”

“Deal. See ya around, McKay.”

Ben moved close enough Angel had to look up at him. “We need to talk, Madame President.”

“I’m very busy—”

“I don’t wanna make a scene, but I will.”

The pink on her cheeks deepened.

Ben’s gaze wandered over her tousled golden-brown hair, streaked with amber, that fell past her shoulders. “Don’t ever wear that ugly-ass wig again. Jesus, woman, I like the look of you. So real. So pretty and soft.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Pay you a compliment?”

“Don’t come into my place of business and act like you control me here.”

Stung, he bit off, “Then I would appreciate ten minutes of your time in private.”

“No.”

“Really? You’re gonna turn away business? Because I want to open an account.”

“Fine. Bonnie can help you with that—”

“Nope. I want you to help me. Only you. So we doin’ this or what?”

Her eyes still held a warning. “Five minutes.”

As they headed toward her office, a voice called out, “Ben?”

He faced a miserable-looking Rielle. “You done already?”

“Yes.”

“Give me ten minutes.” He extracted his keys from his pocket and handed them over. “You can wait in the truck.”

Rielle’s gaze moved between them. “Okay.”

Inside a glass-fronted office, she skirted the desk, offering a curt, “Shut the door and have a seat,” and slid into an oversized chair.

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

“I’d think you were a gentleman, saving the chair for your wife or girlfriend, if I didn’t just see you order her to sit alone in the truck.”

Any veneer of calmness fled. Ben cut across the room and placed his hands on her desk, looming over her. “First off, I wouldn’t have been in the Rawhide Club screwing around with other women if I was married or seeing someone.”
Breathe, man
. His gaze dropped to the nameplate. Whoa. Her name wasn’t Angel? “Maybe I oughta be questioning you and your motives, since you, oh,
lied
about your damn name and wore that ridiculous wig.”

“Given my occupation, I’m sure you understand why I disguised myself. Plus, I had no idea what to expect from an establishment like the Rawhide Club since it was my first foray into such a place. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Fine. I guess I can buy that.”

She fiddled with a pen. “Can you please sit down?”

“Am I makin’ you nervous?”

“We already established last weekend that you make me very nervous, Bennett.”

“Call me Ben,” he corrected, perching on the edge of the floral-covered wingback chair. “I only use Bennett at the club. Or my mom uses my full name when she’s pissed off at me about something. Which you can imagine is all the damn time.”

Ainsley smiled.

“I like it so much better when you’re smiling at me, angel. The name fits you, although that’s not your name.” His gaze tracked over the engraved nameplate. “So, Ainsley Hamilton, you’re a bank president.”

“So it would appear. You surprised?”

“No. I knew you were sharp, and I figured you had a job where you were used to bein’ in charge. You haven’t been in Sundance long.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve lived in this area my whole life. People talk when a hot single lady moves into town. I’ve haven’t been in town in recent weeks… Shame on me for not introducing myself earlier.”

“You’re part of the infamous McKay family.”

“Infamous is an exaggeration.”

“Not from what I’ve heard. Anyway, I haven’t been out and about Sundance. There’s a lot to micromanage when opening a new branch. I spent the first weekend unpacking and last weekend—” Her blush seemed to annoy her. She squared her shoulders. “I don’t need to give you a play-by-play of last weekend’s events.”

“No, you surely don’t, because I’ve been reliving them in my head every damn hour for the last day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Were you gonna show up Friday night? Or stand me up?”

“I hadn’t decided. It was all so…surreal.” She rolled the pen between her palms. “But having you here in my office is surreal too.”

But damn fortunate in his opinion. “You can’t deny something clicked between us last weekend. How about if we talk about it tonight over dinner?”

She gave him a questioning stare. “Dinner? Where?”

“Without adding more fuel to the infamous McKay fire, we’d better stick to my place, because wherever we go in Sundance or Moorcroft, chances are high we’ll run into one of my family members. I’m not sure the new businesswoman in town wants to be associated with a McKay.” When more suspicion flared in her hazel eyes, he realized he’d have to take extra care with her, given how they’d met. “No one knows about my life at the Rawhide Club.”

“You sure?”

“I make sure. I promise. It’s only between us.” He leaned closer. “Have dinner with me tonight, Ainsley. It’ll just be us talkin’. That’s all.”

“None of that tying me up and spanking sex stuff?”

Was there disappointment in that snappy answer? “If that’s the way you want it.” Ben tried hard to reconcile this polished, professional woman with the submissive he’d had beneath his hands only two days ago.

“You can cook?”

“I’m a bachelor. Be pretty sad commentary on my life if I didn’t know my way around a kitchen.”

Ainsley smiled again. “Give me your address and I’ll be there after work.”

“It’s fourteen point eight miles south on Bridger Gap Road. Turn left at the cattle guard. It’s a log house. Can’t miss it.”

Three knocks and Ainsley said, “Come in.”

A tall brunette sashayed into the office. “Public relations from the main Denver branch called. I told them you’d call them back as soon as you finished with your client.”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

Ben bit back a groan. The brunette was none other than Jenny Timsdale. Town beauty queen, hardcore partier and the last-call bar hookup for his cousin Tell. Or his cousin Dalton. Or both, to hear Dalton brag.

She feigned surprise at seeing him. “Ben McKay. Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven’t seen you at the Golden Boot, Ziggy’s or the Twin Pines in forever.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Your cousin Tell hasn’t been too busy to come out and whoop it up with me once in a while.”

He muttered, “I don’t doubt that.”

Ainsley said, “Jenny, is there anything else you needed?”

“No.”

“Would you be so kind as to ask Bonnie to start the new account process? Mr. McKay will be right there, as he’s decided to open an account with us.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Jenny flitted out.

Ben couldn’t help but grin. Ainsley was no pushover. But she’d soon learn he wasn’t either.

“Thanks for the hard sell, Miz Hamilton. I look forward to you meeting my needs.”

“Your banking needs,” she corrected.

“That too,” he murmured. “See you later.”

His week was looking up.

About fifteen minutes after Bennett—Ben—moseyed out of the building after opening a new checking account, Ainsley called Jenny back into her office.

“You buzzed me?” she inquired with fake sweetness.

“Yes. Do you have that number for the PR department? There are four different extensions.”

“Sure. No problem. Be right back.” Jenny’s small, perfectly pear-shaped ass didn’t bounce in the skintight pink leopard print skirt.

Ainsley sighed and swore she’d eat like a bird tonight.

Jenny handed over a slip of paper. “Here you go. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything between you and Ben.”

“No, we were just finishing up. But as long as you asked, what can you tell me about him?”

“Besides he’s as hot as fire? Mama, those blue eyes of his just like…look right into you, know what I mean?”

Yes, she’d been on the receiving end of those soul-pondering looks.

“He’s pretty quiet compared to the rest of his family. But like the rest of them, he’s involved in the McKay ranching operation. He’s not much into the bar scene around here. He probably gets sick of women hanging all over him, but he’s too polite and gentlemanly to say anything, know what I mean?”

No, that didn’t ring true. Ainsley clearly remembered Bennett telling her exactly what he wanted her to do.

“He doesn’t really date, definitely not like his cousins do. Because of that, some nasty people around here whisper he’s gay, but I don’t believe that for a second.”

That man was far, far from gay.

Evidently Jenny realized that Ainsley hadn’t responded to anything she’d said. Her baby blues widened. “You aren’t involved with him or something? Because aren’t you, like, a lot older than him?”

Ainsley let the snarky comment slide. “We were just talking about his cousin’s art. He had a couple of general questions about the bank and I convinced him to open an account.”

“It’d be a big deal if you could get all the McKays to switch their banking business here. I’ll bet you can be very persuasive.”

Not nearly as persuasive as Bennett could be

And that scared the bejeezus out of her.

Chapter Ten

Ben’s charming, rustic house looked nothing like Ainsley had pictured a big, bad Dom’s swinging bachelor pad.

Cradling the bottle of wine, she tiptoed up the flagstone walkway, cursing her high heels, wishing she’d changed clothes after work.

Soon as she neared the door, she heard barking. Snarling barks. And thumps. Like the dogs were throwing themselves at the door to get to her.

Ben’s voice boomed. “Dammit, shut up. What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

The dogs whimpered.

“Hang on a sec while I put the dogs out back.”

She adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse, watching through the screen door as Ben dragged the dogs by their collars.

He trotted back, swinging the door inward. “Sorry about that. Don’t know what got into them. They’re usually so friendly they slobber all over ya.”

She handed him the wine. “They probably smelled my cats.”
And my fear.

“Can I take your coat?” He set the wine bottle on a beautifully crafted side table.