Cowboy Payback (8 page)

“And choking me,” he said, voice strained, throat working against her arm hugging him tight.

She loosened her hold. “Sorry, sir.”

“You need to get down.”

“No. I’m good.”

He chuckled. “You’re also shirtless and clinging to my back.”

She glanced down at her chest. Shoot. She’d forgotten that part. Still…“Yeah, but I’m also
spiderless
, so it’s all good.”

In a few, economical movements, the captain twisted her around until she was clinging to the front of him like a pretzel.

“Not that I don’t like the view, because believe me, I really,
really
do like the view,” he said, glancing down at her breasts spilling out of her lilac lace bra. “But you should probably do something about it.”

With her whole body suddenly aware of every hard inch of the man, Trisha unhooked her ankles from behind his back, and slowly slid her feet to the ground, her body brushing incredible, rigid, tight muscles along the way.

Muttering an oath, her C.O. tightened his grip around her waist, but didn’t release her. “You can’t stay out here shirtless.”

Talking her legs into not buckling, she pushed out of his arms then took a shaky step backward. Her chin rose despite the heat in her cheeks. “It’s still better than wearing that spider-infested shirt.”

“I disagree. You can’t stand here like that,” he repeated as he scooped up her top, shook it out, then handed it to her.

Trisha backed up, shaking her head. “No way, sir. I’m never wearing that again.”

“Dammit, Corporal, you’ve faced down insurgents, defused bombs, rushed into abandoned buildings not knowing if the enemy was inside…and never batted an eyelash. How the hell can you be so freaked out over such a little pest?”

“Little? That thing was huge…and on me…crawling a-and on me and…and who knows what?” Her voice rose along with her pulse and anxiety level. Thanks to her brothers terrorizing her when she was a kid with fake ones, and dropping a few real ones on her. She was a no-spider zone.

“You can’t go around without your shirt.”

“Yes, I can. We’ve parted ways. We’re history,” she insisted, backing up until she felt the warm pelt of a horse on her back.

The captain’s gaze dropped to her chest, and she watched as he struggled to draw in a breath. Her skin tingled and nipples peaked, begging for his touch.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll go back and get another one.”

“Hell no, you’re not.” His voice came out rough and deliciously low; aggravation and heat smoldered in his eyes. “You can’t walk back to the cabin like that. Someone might see you. Here, take mine.”

Before she could reply, protest…suck in much needed air…he ripped his navy T-shirt over his head and shoved it in her hands.

“Put it on.” When she hesitated, he added a stern, “Now.”

“Okay.” Jeez, he was darn bossy. Shrugging into the over-sized shirt, Trisha inhaled. The scent of soap, mountain air, and heated male surrounded her in an envelope of sensual warmth.

She hoped the tremor racing down her body went unnoticed under the bulk of material. And because she was nervous and stupid and it had been too long since she’d spoken, she twisted around with her hands out and asked, “Better?”

He let out a breath and chuckled. “Looks better on you than it does on me.”

His unexpected compliment made her smile, and heat up from the inside out. Or maybe that was from gazing at his now shirtless form. Liquid warmth spread through her body and grew hotter as she settled her gaze on his naked pecs, then traveled a dangerous path down his rigid abs, and followed the happy trail until the waistband of his jeans stopped her view.

He stepped back. “I’d better go. I have a few things I need to do before the guests arrive tomorrow.” Swinging his large frame effortlessly into the saddle, he stared down at her. “Bugsby told me he has something special planned for us tonight in the dining hall at six thirty, and not to be late. I tried to get out of it, but couldn’t. So, if I don’t see you sooner, then I’ll meet you there.”

Before she could mutter a syllable, he twisted his mount around and rode off. Galloped away. Left her standing in the middle of the dirt road, mesmerized by the muscles in his back rippling in tandem with his horse as the two magnificent males raced across the field.

Once she picked her tongue up off the ground, Trisha heaved a heavy sigh. The image of the sexy cowboy half-naked on the horse was going to stay with her forever.

And it did.

An hour later, her mind still held the glorious image as she sat across from his mother, sharing a pitcher of iced tea on the woman’s deck.

“Thank you for the drink, and for being so understanding about this mess I’ve made with my parents.”

“Oh, it’s okay, dear. Sometimes, our expectations don’t match our children’s, and it takes a shake up to bring it to light.”

She nodded to the pretty woman with dark hair and blue eyes, and who looked more like her C.O.’s older sister than mother. “Well, the capt…I mean, your son and I have talked, and we’ve decided to wait until after my parents visit before we
shake
things up. I hope that’s okay?”

“Of course. I’d actually love for you to stay the whole summer,” her hostess added with a soft pat to the back of Trisha’s hand. “One thing I’ve learned from having Cammie around, it’s nice to not be so out-numbered by testosterone.”

She chuckled. “I can see where that would be a problem.” At times, her captain had enough to supply a whole platoon. Toss in his equally alpha twin brother, and they might as well change the name of the ranch to
Royal Pains
.

“I’m hoping once Cammie comes back next week, the three of us could have a girls’ night, or something.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled. “I haven’t done anything like that since college.”

“And I haven’t done it, well, ever.” Mrs. Brennan laughed, then sobered. “I’m really glad you’re here, Trisha.”

Her heart swelled, and eyes teared at the honesty in the woman’s heartfelt words. “Me, too, Mrs. Brennan. Me, too.”

It had been far too long since her presence was desired for friendship instead of duty, safety, to fill a roster, or a dinner table at one of her father’s many functions. It was high time she got back in touch with
her
needs, and at that moment, Trisha was glad she’d uttered Captain Brennan’s name to her parents a few days ago. Not because she needed him, but because she needed his
home
for some quality
me
time.

****

After spending half the day trying to rid his mind of the image of Trisha standing in the field shirtless, her gorgeous, full breasts standing at attention behind that lacey purple bra, Brett somehow managed to finalize plans for tomorrow’s guests, and was now getting ready to meet the corporal for dinner. Thank the stars and stripes she’d been gone by the time he’d entered the cabin. The woman was becoming too tempting.

As he finished his shower, his mind wandered—without permission—back to the field, and his body remembered how the woman felt clinging to him, all soft and curvy. Too bad he hadn’t been shirtless then, too. Instinct told him skin-on-skin contact would’ve been memorable.

Damn.

He gave himself a mental shake and once again, reminded himself Corporal Jennings was one of his own. His body had no right responding to her generous figure.

A brisk drying off got his mind back to the plan. Pretending to be her fiancé in public was fine, but when they were alone, he’d drop back to Captain/Corporal mode. No room for deviation.

Feeling better and more in control, he donned one of the few pairs of dress pants and button-down shirts he owned. He was a jeans and T-shirt type of guy. No need to get fancy on the ranch. But tonight was an exception.

Stetson on his head, he strode out of the cabin and across the drive, picking a few spiderless wild flowers growing near the porch, knowing better than to show up empty handed. His momma had raised him better.

With smile in place, he entered the lobby and stopped dead.

Holy hell…ooo.

Thumping a loud cadence, his heart jumped into his rapidly drying throat as he gazed at his stunning fake fiancée. The corporal was chatting with Mrs. Laramie and Stacy, the activity director, at the front desk, looking like…like…
Damn
. The woman was a grade A knockout. How did this happen?
Hell
.
When
did this happen?

He’d never seen the morale officer with her hair loose before. He had no idea it was long enough to fall halfway down her back. Or that her blue eyes popped with all those auburn waves surrounding her delicate face.

And her outfit.
Hot damn
. Brett decided then and there it had been created to drive him mad. Stark raving mad. The silky material, in cobalt blue, clung in all the right places with a fantastic dip in the neckline, showcasing her mouthwatering chest.

The dress designer had to have been a man. That view was exactly what a red-blooded male dreamt about. Just enough creamy, rounded skin and beckoning valley showed to capture and hold a man’s attention. Not the blatant display of nudity some of the newer styles revealed. A guy, at least
this guy
, preferred an outfit that hinted at the wonderland hidden under the garment.

And from what he could see from the sexy dress gracing her curves, Corporal Jennings had a hell of a wonderland. Her earlier shirtless form flashed through his mind, and his lower body promptly tightened.

So much for not deviating.

Catching sight of him, she straightened and smiled. Now his ears were ringing, and he had no idea how the hell to answer them. Somehow managing another smile, he raised the hand with the flowers, but that was all his muddled brain would allow.

Shit
. She was walking to him, the silky material teasing as it hit her curves, then released them, making him want to rip the dress off so he could get a complete view of the treasures hidden beneath.

Correction. The dress had to have been designed by a woman. A vixen. Evil…and wicked…

“Thank you,” she said, heart-stopping smile still tugging her glossy lips.

He continued to grin, but had no idea why the woman was thanking him, until she reached for his hand
and
the flowers bending in his tight grasp.

Idiot.

Brett released the bunch, a little worse for wear, and wondered what the hell was wrong with him? He’d been out with plenty of beautiful women before. He was a react-to-the-attraction kind of guy. Made it perfectly clear he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and had no problem sticking to a two date rule.

The unsettling feelings the corporal caused were completely new. And unwelcome.

If this was how Finn felt with Cammie, then Brett had a new appreciation for his brother’s strength.

With the silence turning awkward, and knowing they were the center of attention from his nearby staff, Brett offered his elbow. Relief flooded his veins when the bombshell slipped her arm through his without waiting for him to reply. His tongue was so swollen it stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t talk if his life had depended on it.

Not good. This ruffled, chaotic thought process was annoying as hell and too far out of character to be adaptable. Something had to give.

Smile still on his face, he started to lead her toward the dining hall and instantly realized he had another problem. His tongue was not the only part of his anatomy that was swollen.

Chapter Six

“It’s beautiful in here, sir. Your staff must really care about you,” the corporal said as they entered the dimly lit dining hall, a small section partitioned off just for them and blanketed in more of those damn candles.

How in the world was he going to keep things businesslike with the corporal dressed to kill and the room set for seduction?

Clearing his throat, Brett nodded, then led her to the lone table in the middle of the room where Bugsby stood patiently waiting.

The smiling chef had outdone himself. Adorned with a white tablecloth and red rose centerpiece, the table was the epitome of romance with another bottle of champagne chilling on ice while a Chris Young song played softly in the background.

Under normal circumstances, he would’ve used the ambiance to his advantage, but not tonight. Not with Corporal Jennings. He needed to keep things platonic.

Why?

The stray question shot through his mind. She wasn’t one of his men anymore.

Yes, she
was
and always would be. Now was not the time to get technical.
She is one of your marines, therefore, you will treat her as such.
He repeated the silent order several times in his head, and each time his libido calmed a little further.

“Everything looks great, Bugsby,” he said as they reached the table, happy to regain the use of his tongue.

The corporal nodded. “Yes, thank you. It’s beautiful in here.”

“You are both quite welcome.” The chef beamed, then motioned toward her flowers. “Let me put them in water for you. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the kitchen with the flowers, leaving them alone.

The beauty glanced sideways at him and smiled. “He sure is quick on his feet.”

“Yep.” He held out her chair. “You should see him in the kitchen.” Brett waited until she was seated before he removed his hat, set it aside, and took his own seat.

The corporal’s gaze ran over him, her appreciative gleam heating his insides.

Platonic.
We’re going to keep this strictly platonic.

“I must say, you clean up nice, Captain.”

He leaned closer and smiled. “Same goes for you, Corporal. It’s strange to see you out of uniform.”

“Strange? But I haven’t been in uniform this whole trip.”

He nodded. “True.”

“So, I look strange in civilian attire?”

“No, I mean, yes. But a nice strange,” he added quickly when the light started to fade from her eyes. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied just as Bugsby appeared and replaced the rose centerpiece with her flowers.

The chef’s eyebrow lifted, no doubt finding her endearment odd for a newly engaged couple, and Brett realized they were going to have to work on not being so formal.