Crazy For the Cowboy (22 page)

“You wouldn't be heading over to the Bickford Hotel for a hot night of sex—that's for sure.”

“No, I wouldn't.” She pulled her into another hug. “Thank you.”

“Sure you won't give me a postmortem tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then let's go to your room and organize your outfit.”

*   *   *

Georgie left the house on the stroke of midnight. It appealed to her sense of drama to walk through the front door as the grandfather clock in the entryway began counting down the hour. Dressed the way she was, she didn't feel like the woman who managed the Bickford General Store and took care of electrical and plumbing issues at home. She felt like a princess.

Anastasia had unearthed a white off-the-shoulder blouse trimmed with blue ribbon and a flowered skirt that swirled around her ankles. She hadn't worn either of them in years. Ditto the sandals with a three-inch heel and the white lace shawl. It didn't provide much warmth, but adrenaline had stoked up her inner furnace.

She barely noticed the cool night air as she walked down Main Street, lit only by its historic streetlamps. Even the signs for the hotel and Sadie's had been switched off. She glanced up at the crescent moon and glittering stars above her and realized she hadn't really looked at them in a long time. She'd been too busy and too worried about the town and Evelyn's control over her future.

Tonight she would forget all that and give herself the gift of pleasure. If Vince was willing, and she thought he would be, she'd continue her stealth visits until Charmaine arrived. This had been a brilliant idea and Anastasia was indeed a genius.

A small silk bag dangling from her wrist held the hotel keys and a small flashlight. But she wouldn't need the flashlight. The moment she'd started down the street she'd noticed a rectangle of light shining down from the second floor onto the pavement.

If she'd been thinking more clearly, she would have guessed he'd be in that street-view room. He'd made the original reservations, and he would have requested the hotel's finest. The room across the hall also looked out on the street, but it had two doubles instead of a king and wasn't furnished quite as nicely. Maybe Mac and Travis, who seemed to be more strapped for cash, had shared that one.

Her heart beat faster the closer she came to the hotel, and it had already been pumping hard. In her mental rehearsals, he'd answer the door groggy and a little disoriented from sleep. Sure, he'd probably switch on the bedside lamp before answering her knock, but it would give off a mellow glow. From the looks of the light spilling from his window, he was wide awake and had every fixture in the room blazing.

She gulped. When she'd first set out on this adventure, she'd felt powerful and sexy, capable of seducing this gorgeous cowboy. Now, seeing all that bright light made her feel suddenly exposed. She'd never done anything like this in her life.

Fear of the unknown made her hesitate. She could turn around now, walk back home, and nobody except Anastasia would ever know. But she'd give up the chance, probably forever, of feeling Vince's strong arms around her, his hot kisses searing her body, and his hard . . . yeah,
that.
Okay, she was going through with it.

CHAPTER 22

W
hen Vince heard a knock at the door, he put down his book. Could he have imagined it? Steve and Myra should be sound asleep in their apartment downstairs, and they were the only ones in the building besides him.

The Bickford Hotel was more than a hundred years old and built of wood, so it creaked and groaned whenever the wind blew especially hard. But there was no wind tonight. His new poker friends had spun a few yarns about supposed hauntings, but Vince didn't believe in that stuff. Yet a shiver went down his spine.

Until now, he'd kind of liked being the only guest. He didn't have to worry about disturbing anybody or having anybody disturb him. But that knock, if it really had been a knock, made him suddenly aware of how alone he was up here on the second floor. And how flimsy that old door was.

Ah, he was probably hearing things. Sometimes the ancient pipes rattled in the walls. But they didn't rattle unless someone was running water somewhere in the hotel. And everything was shut down for the night.

He'd seen
A Christmas Carol
, both the regular version and the Muppet one. The first ghosts had shown up after midnight. But he didn't consider himself particularly Scrooge-like, and it wasn't Christmas. Aw, hell, he was letting his imagination run away with him because it was late and he was tired. He should just go to bed.

The second knock sent him bolting from the chair, adrenaline pumping through his system. Then he heard a voice.

“Vince? It's me.”

The breath whooshed out of his lungs. “Georgie?” He crossed the room in two strides, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. “What's wrong?” And how the hell did she get in here?

“Nothing's wrong. Did I scare you?”

He tried to calm his breathing. “Uh, no. Well, maybe a little.” As he adjusted to the fact that Georgie was standing there and that she wasn't some apparition from the spirit world, he finally noticed how she was dressed.

Maybe he was dreaming this. He'd never seen her in a skirt and blouse before. And sexy heels. He scrubbed a hand over his face. That felt real enough. Same bristle that he usually developed by this time.

But technically she shouldn't be here unless she could walk through walls. “How did you get in?”

“I have a key.” She spoke fast, and she sounded breathless. “Steve gave me one to both the front and back when he and Myra went to their daughter's wedding, and I checked on things here while they were gone.”

“She wasn't married in Bickford? No, forget that. I don't give a damn where she was married. Now I know how you got here. But I don't know why.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. Her cheeks turned pink.

He stared at her. “Georgie?” Gradually it dawned on him why she might be standing at his door in the middle of the night, but he couldn't quite believe it. They'd been over all that. He'd told her where he stood. And she'd bitten him.

Yet here she was, dressed like a woman who might have certain things on her mind. His brain went on tilt and he had trouble organizing his thoughts. He could be on the brink of something incredible, but he didn't trust that concept. He'd wanted her too much for too long.

She cleared her throat. “Could I please come in?”

“Oh, sure! Absolutely!” He stepped back and watched her walk into his room. His
bed
room. Her hips swayed a little as she maneuvered on those heels. He could tell she wasn't used to them, and he found that touching.

She wandered over to the easy chair and glanced down at the book he'd left on the end table. “Is this one of the history books Ed loaned you?” With her back to him, she took off the lace shawl and tossed it over the back of the chair.

“Yeah, I'm rereading it so I can be sure to remember the important facts. Listen, Georgie, if you . . .” He lost his train of thought as she turned around and he saw what the shawl had concealed. The material of her blouse was thin. And she wasn't wearing a bra.

He swallowed. “You'd better be here for what I think you are, because—”

“I am.”

Excitement surged through him and he was almost instantly hard. “Thank God.”

“But I just thought of a potential problem.”

He groaned. “What now?”

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yes
.
”
Somewhere in his suitcase, which was tucked away on the top shelf of the tiny closet.

She took a deep breath. “Then I guess you should get them while I shut the door.”

He spun around and sure enough, the door stood open, exactly the way he'd left it. She made him crazy, but tonight he would return the favor.

While she closed and locked the door, he grabbed his suitcase out of the closet and threw it on the floor. Crouching was tough on his family jewels, but he had to accomplish this before he could do anything about that. He unzipped the little roller bag with shaky fingers.

Traveling with condoms had become an unconscious habit, but he didn't know how many he had. Or how many he'd need. The way he felt right now, he'd need a lot. He found them lying loose in a side pocket and grabbed out as many as he could hold.

She was here. She was really here. Soon they'd be naked and rolling around on his bed. He should probably ask some questions about what had changed her mind, but he didn't want to look too closely at this miracle and risk screwing up what appeared to be an incredible gift from the universe.

His breath hissed out between his teeth as he stood. His cock was in misery being squeezed inside the unforgiving denim of his jeans. It was fair to say he'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Georgie. That could be trouble. He might go off like a rocket with one thrust.

He turned to find her sitting in his easy chair unbuckling the straps on her shoes. Her blouse gaped open as she leaned down. If she'd been anyone besides Georgie, he would think she'd done that on purpose, but he figured she didn't know.

The view of her creamy breasts overloaded his already supercharged libido. Stuffing one condom in his pocket, he let the others fall to the floor as he walked over to the chair. He hauled her out of it without asking.

She gasped, which meant when he kissed her, he had easy access. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he pushed her blouse down over her shoulders and cupped those warm, quivering breasts. Somebody moaned. It could've been her. It could've been him.

It could've been both of them, because apparently he'd lit her fuse, too. She tore at his shirt, popping the snaps as it came open. Then she flattened her palms against his chest and curled her fingertips into his pecs. God, it felt great to have her hands on him, to have his hands on her.

Still kissing her for all he was worth, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. Her shoes clattered to the floor as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Her heat seemed to seek his through the material separating them as he carried her to the bed.

When he laid her across the mattress, he followed her down, unwilling to stop kissing her for even a second as he rolled slightly to one side and pushed up her skirt. Then he went very still. Lifting his head to gaze into her flushed face, he slipped his hand between her satin thighs and encountered nothing but warm, moist woman. “No panties, Georgie?”

Her brown eyes darkened as he caressed her there. “Less to take off.”

“True.” His fingers slid easily back and forth. He didn't need to make her ready for him. She was already drenched. He pictured her taking off her panties before knocking on his door. “Are they stuffed in your little satchel?”

“No.”

“Then where—”

“At home.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “You walked down Main Street without panties?”

Her breath caught as he circled her clit with his thumb. “Y-yes.”

“I underestimated you.”

“I hope I didn't . . .
over
estimate . . . you.”

He smiled at that. “Me, too.” Curving his fingers, he found her G-spot and watched her pupils dilate as he stroked.

His balls ached as if he'd taken a hit to the groin, but she'd walked down here without underwear. After a gutsy move like that, the least he could do was make sure he gave her an orgasm before he plunged into her and lost his mind.

“Let's start with this and see how it goes.” He teased her clit as he massaged with his fingertips. Yeah, this was a good place to start. Her thighs began to quiver. “Good?”

“Mm.” She closed her eyes and lifted her hips, participating again. “Faster.”

He loved it when she forgot to be shy and started giving directions. Apparently she had to reach a certain point of arousal before that happened. She was there, now. “I'll go faster if you'll open your eyes.”

Her lashes fluttered upward.

He locked his gaze with hers as he increased the pace. “Tell me how that feels, Georgie.”

Her lips parted as her breathing grew shallow and quick. “Like . . . like I'm a jet flying down the runway.”

“Nice.” He watched the pleasure build in her eyes as she tightened around his fingers. “Takeoff will be any second.”

She gasped and clutched handfuls of the bedspread. “Uh-huh.” She started to close her eyes again.

“Let me watch,” he murmured, coaxing her higher with firm pressure on her clit. “Let me share.”

She opened her eyes again.

He absorbed the hot passion reflected there and the anticipated thrill of release. He saw the shift in her expression, felt the first spasm roll over his fingers, and right before she arched upward in surrender, he glimpsed something deeper in her eyes. For a brief moment he felt as if she'd allowed him to see her essence, the truest part of Georgie Bickford.

That rocked him. Caressing her gently now, he helped bring her back to earth with soft kisses and murmured words. A tender emotion settled in his chest, a feeling so new that it almost hurt. It reminded him of growing pains when he was a kid.

He'd been to bed with women on many occasions, women he'd liked and admired. Yet he'd never experienced anything quite like this reaction. He had a sneaking suspicion of what might be happening, and it would be a first for him.

If he was right, then spending this time with Georgie might not be the wisest move he could make. Apparently he wasn't particularly wise. Easing from the bed, he helped her out of her clothes, what there was of them.

A blouse, a skirt, shoes, and a shawl. She'd obviously made the decision to have sex with him and she'd chosen an outfit that would present no challenges. He still didn't know why she'd made the decision to become his lover, but the question could wait.

After maneuvering her under the covers, he turned off all the lights except the one beside the bed, stripped off his clothes, and rolled on the condom. She'd watched him through the whole operation, and when he was finished, she folded back the covers and held out her arms.

He went into them with a sense of wonder and gratitude. He'd never expected to be with her like this, and whatever the personal cost, he'd pay it. But as he moved between her thighs, he thought a disclaimer was in order. “This might be over way too fast. I've dreamed about it for a long time.”

“So have I, but I never admitted it to myself.”

He sighed. “No pressure, right?”

“None at all.” Sliding her hands down his back, she gripped his butt. “I have
always
wanted to fondle you like this.”

“Too bad you didn't do it sooner. Then maybe I wouldn't feel like I'm going to explode right now.”

She wrapped her legs around his and pulled him forward. “Go for it. There's always round two.”

And three and four, he thought. Then he nudged her damp entrance with the head of his cock, found his place there, and pushed deep. All thought disappeared. Nothing mattered but this.

He never lost control with a woman. It was a point of honor with him, but he lost control with Georgie. He pumped into her with a wild joy that stole his breath, his words, his sense of where he left off and she began.

Dimly he heard her voice urging him on, and a jubilant cry that must have been when she came. He felt the tremors massage his cock, and some primitive instinct took over. He pounded into her with greater purpose then, and when he climaxed, he felt as if the top of his head was coming off. He shouted and cursed, and only later wondered if he'd been loud enough to wake Myra and Steve.

When it was over he staggered from the bed with the little strength he had left, because he wanted to cuddle with Georgie, and a guy couldn't cuddle when he had to dispose of a damned condom. He appreciated the reason for the little raincoats, but they sure could bust up a mood.

Turned out it didn't destroy this one, though. When he climbed back into bed, she was lying on her side, smiling at him.

She combed his hair back from his forehead. “Feeling better?”

“You have no idea.” Her touch was like rain on parched earth.

“I might.” She ran her fingers along his stubble. “I'm familiar with sexual frustration.”

“I guess so.” The scratchy sound of her fingertips on his beard made him study her face in the lamplight. “Damn it, I gave you razor burn.”

“I don't care.”

He leaned toward her and placed tiny kisses where he'd reddened her skin. “You will in the morning when you open the store. I doubt you want to advertise where you were tonight.”

“That's what makeup is for.” Stroking his shoulder, she gazed at him. “Besides, I have to admit that while at first I thought we should keep this a secret, now it doesn't matter to me.”

Instinctively he wanted to protect her from gossip, but it wasn't all up to him. “That's your choice.”

She caressed the nape of his neck in a slow, mesmerizing massage. “It doesn't matter to me, but it might make things unpleasant for you.”