Nothing Sweeter (Sweet on a Cowboy) (13 page)

Max’s arm came around her waist. “Bree? What’s wrong?” He pulled a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and held it out to her.

She wiped her mouth, then whirled to face him. “You idiot! You could have been killed! I don’t care about your stupid cowboy code. I’m
never
watching you do that again.”

His cocky grin pissed her off even more. “Darlin’, a bull is like a dancing partner—you have to let him lead.”

Her stomach lurched. She pushed him away, being careful where she put her hands.

“Come on. Let me help you.”

She sagged against the fence, head between her knees, pictures of what could have happened to him whirling in her mind. She waved her hands at him. “Do me a favor and stand downwind, will you?”

Max smoothed his hands over his hair, squeezing out the last of the water. Turning off the shower, he stepped out and grabbed a towel from the rack.

Bree was irked with him.
Nothing new there.
Although, looking back, he had to admit he’d been a bit rough around the edges when she first met him. Between Jo’s quitting him, his father’s death, and the ranch’s problems, he’d been on a six-month streak of foul mood. He now regretted the bad impression he’d made. He’d been touched by her misguided worry this afternoon. And then there was that smoking kiss in the barn.

So what’re you gonna do about it?

If she were a country girl, he’d know what to do. He’d take her to the Double Z for a beer and some slow country songs to snuggle up and dance to. But Bree wasn’t a country girl. He remembered her, perfectly coiffed, discussing wine with Wyatt at dinner while Max sat there like a clueless hick.

He pulled on his jeans and jerked open the door. “Wyatt!” He padded down the hall in his bare feet. “Where the heck are you?”

Wyatt’s bedroom door opened and he stuck his head out. “Is the house on fire?”

“No. I need your help.”

Wyatt stepped aside and waved him into the room that Max hadn’t been in since his brother arrived. A huge computer monitor with two towers on either side took up most of the desk space, wires snaking everywhere. Max noticed a framed photo centered on the nightstand. Wyatt grinned into the camera, his arm around a shorter brown-skinned man. Max’s face heated, and he averted his eyes, feeling like he’d just seen his brother naked.

“What wouldn’t wait until you fastened your jeans, Max?”

He looked down. “Oh.” He buttoned his Wranglers. “I need the name of a good wine.”

Wyatt looked over his reading glasses. “
That’s
what you’re in an all-fired hurry about?”

“I want to make up to Bree for scaring her this afternoon. I know she likes wine, and I thought I’d take her a bottle.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me for dating advice?”

Max felt the tips of his ears heat. “You’re right. Bad idea.”

Wyatt grabbed his arm as he tried to brush by. “Hold on, now. What did you have in mind?”

Max looked at his still wet feet. “I don’t know. I thought I’d buy a bottle and give it to her.”

“Oh, that’s smooth, Max.” Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Sit down. This may take a while.”

17

M
ax hesitated outside Bree’s closed door, a handful of wildflowers wilting in his sweaty hand.
Come on, Jameson. You’re not in junior high, for chrissake.
He forced himself to knock.

“Hang on.” Her muffled voice came through the door.

He heard the chain drop and the door opened. She looked great in a business suit, but this was his Bree: smiling, no makeup, hair barely restrained in a ponytail. Her creamy skin glowed smooth and perfect. Well, except for the scar. She wore nothing but a sports bra and a tiny pair of spandex shorts, her feet bare. A pink crystal in her belly button winked in the light. He swallowed. Audibly.

She smiled. “Come on in, Max.”

He thrust the flowers at her. “These are for you.”

Looking down at the ragged bouquet, her face flushed. Then she beamed up at him, as if he’d given her a winning lottery ticket. “Thank you.” Sniffing the air, she cocked her head. “Max Jameson. Are you wearing cologne?”

“I wanted to make a better impression on your nose
than I did this afternoon.” Not knowing what to do with his hands, he slipped them into his pockets, hopefully disguising the tent between them. He’d never understood body piercings, but he was starting to warm to the idea. He leaned against the doorframe. “Whatcha doing?”

“Yoga. It relaxes me.”

Funny, it’s having the opposite effect on me.

She poured water from a pitcher into a glass on the desk and settled the flowers in it before picking up an oversized denim shirt from the bed and shrugging it on.

What a shame to cover all that pretty skin.

“Aside from the finale, I think today went pretty well. I’d have liked to discover a bucker in your bull stock, but we did find quite a few good cows.”

He grinned. “The women on Heather tend to be feisty.”

“Good thing for you that they are.” She dropped onto the bed. “That solves half the equation. I’m going to use the last of my savings to send off for some semen straws, but we’re going to have to decide which PBR bulls we want to sire our string.”

He crossed the room to take her hand. “I didn’t come here to talk business, Bree.”

“You didn’t?”

“Come with me.” He led her to the door.

She tugged at his hand. “If we’re going somewhere, I need to put some clothes on.”

“You meet the dress code just like that.” He took his time, his glance wandering over her body. “Okay, maybe some shoes.”

He waited while she reached under the cot. When she straightened, she had loafers in one hand and what looked like a prescription bottle in the other. Before he could ask,
she dropped it in the trash can and dusted her hands. She stepped into the shoes. “I’m ready.”

Offering his arm, he led her around the rear of the stable to a grassy area between the building and the pasture fence. It was full dark and the damp grass released a cool, fresh scent. Hundreds of crickets chirped backup to a single locust’s solo. He heard her breath catch when she saw his surprise: a round café table for two, covered in white linen, and a vase full of wildflowers. All illuminated in the flickering light of half a dozen votive candles.

He escorted her to a chair and settled her in before pouring the wine.

No, decanting. That’s what Wyatt called it.
He sank into his chair.

Her smile was luminous, as if he’d poured her the moonlight. “This is some surprise, Max.” She sighed and reclined, tilting her head back. “I’d never seen stars like they are here. I go outside nights just to stare at them.”

Max pulled his focus from her lean abs and tilted his head back to share the view. “I go to nature to be soothed and healed and to have my senses put in order.” He dropped his gaze to find her studying him. “John Burroughs.”

“Yes. That’s exactly right.”

He raised his glass. “May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.”

The crystal rang as she touched her glass to his. “Amen to that.”

He’d seen a wince lots of times, but he’d never before heard one.

She swirled the wine, sniffed it and then took a tentative sip. “Hmmm. This is lovely. What is it?”

“Storybook Mountain Zin. I know you like Napa Valley
wines. It’s aged in barrels stored in caves on the side of a mountain.” Max took a sip. It would never replace a good Rolling Rock but he could choke it down.

They spoke of inconsequential things—the weather and local gossip. He discovered they both loved football, were ambivalent about baseball, and were bored to death by NASCAR.

Her eyes glinted like chips of topaz as she raised his dad’s cut-crystal wineglass to take another sip. He decided she belonged in the candlelight. Her peach-tinted skin glowed. The fine bones of her face and hands reminded him that she no more belonged in his stable than Ivana Trump. But just for tonight, he didn’t care what had brought her here. He was going to relish his good fortune.

They laughed, reliving the pratfalls of the day. When he picked up the bottle to fill her glass once more, he was surprised to find it empty.

She gave him a wistful smile. “It’s for the best anyway. We’ve both got to be up early.”

She reached a hand across the table to cover his. “Thank you, Max. This has been a perfect evening.” She closed her eyes and he watched her breasts rise with her deep breath. “And I haven’t had one of those in a long, long time.” After a handful of heartbeats, she stood and blew out the candles.

Somehow this woman had burrowed into his world and turned it inside out. Studying the silhouette of her face in the dark, he was overcome by a sense of rightness. She belonged here, with him. When he held his hand out to her, she entwined her fingers in his. She
fit
him.

They strolled in companionable silence to her room.

She stopped in the doorway. The light from the tack
room bathed her face as she turned to smile up at him. To say good night.

It was his move now, but for the first time since high school, Max didn’t have a smooth line. All the ones he used to charm buckle bunnies and barflies sounded to him like a fist against meat. Blunt. Wrong.

So instead he blurted the first thing that came to his wine-dampened brain—the truth.

“Bree, you’ve never gotten to see the good side of me. I’ve been mad at the world for quite some time now, and Jo’s leaving capped it all off. I realize that I took all that out on you. Because you were there, with your beauty, your red hair, and your sophisticated ways.” He took her hands in his. “I’m sorry, Bree. Sorry for all of it. If you’ll let me, I want to show you that there is a good side to Max Jameson.”

Her lips turned up, but when she would have spoken, he put a finger to them. “I’ve been thinking about your kiss all day.” Her smile slipped. “The feel of you through your jeans. You looking at me like you are now.” Her whiskey eyes darkened to molten honey, and her mouth opened a bit. “The truth is, since that first day, when I saw those long legs walking toward me, I just wanted to wrap them around me.” As he lowered his head to kiss her, he recalled her promise. “Is it later yet, Bree?”

He could hear her breath in the hushed barn. She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. “Oh yeah, Max. It’s definitely later.”

The anticipation in her kiss granted him admittance. A surge of joy hit his brain even as a lust spread downward. Kissing her, he nudged her farther into the room and kicked the door shut with his heel. Now that he’d gotten
through the part of the date he’d rehearsed, he felt twitchy. “It’s been a long time for me, Bree. I want to make this special—for both of us.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a sexy smile as she reached up to unsnap the top of his shirt. “I’ll try to go slow, Max.” The second snap popped. “But it’s been a long time for me too.” She grabbed his lapels and with a sharp tug, the remaining snaps cracked like pistol shots. “I’m not promising patience.” Her lips closed over his as she slid his shirt down, trapping his arms. The sexual tension that simmered in the air all day boiled up. He allowed her to lead the way for only a moment before he fought his arms out of the sleeves and tossed the shirt aside.

Her nails lightly raked his back as his tongue wrestled with hers, their breathing loud in his ears. Using his thumbs, he tipped her head back and trailed kisses over all that exposed tawny skin. As he approached the ropy necklace of scar tissue at the base of her neck, she jerked away.

His gut tightened. That this vibrant, beautiful woman would believe that a scar made her less gorgeous somehow made him want to go pound someone to mush.

He caught her chin, bringing her gaze to his. “You’re exquisite, Bree,” he whispered, “Every inch of you.” Her sad eyes told him how badly she wanted to believe, but didn’t. He lightly kissed the edge of the scar and then moved on, to run his tongue over the delicate ridge of her collarbone.

Bree closed her eyes and was lost. Her body now existed only where he touched it. He lightly nipped her shoulder, pulling her into the circle of his arms. Her skin, her lips, her heart, ached to make him hers, this cowboy who’d put the ground back under her feet.

Her shirt disappeared and then her bra. His strong, gentle hands rested on her waist as his gaze took her in. There was a look of wonder on his face and, for the first time since waking up in the prison infirmary, she felt whole.

His light touch smoothed over her rib cage to cover her breasts, palms sliding over her hard nipples. Electric signals shot through her as she arched to his touch. She wanted to bring this man pleasure. Wanted to give him—everything.

Suddenly he was gone. She opened her eyes to see him leaning to turn on the desk lamp.

“I want to see you.” His eyes were black smoke where they grazed her body. She reached for him, but he backed away. “Just let me get rid of some extra stuff.” He put the heel of one boot to the toe of the other to pry it off.

The last time she’d seen him shirtless, he’d been in the garden with Tia. She hadn’t been able to do any of the things she’d imagined. Now… she knelt, and when he pulled off the other boot, she unbuttoned his jeans. He went still and looked down at her. As she released the last button, his hard length sprang into her hands.

I should have known a cowboy would go commando.
She tugged his jeans down his muscled legs and he stepped out of them. Running her fingers lightly up and down his length, she reveled in his velvet hardness. It had been so long since she’d caressed a man. She’d almost forgotten…

He bent and lifted her to her feet. “Hon, if you want this to last any time at all, you don’t want to be doing that.” Cradling her to his chest, he ravaged her mouth, then settled her gently on the bed. She chuckled, reclining on one arm, watching the man who was about to become her lover as he divested himself of clothing. Desire pooled
in her belly as she took in the warm-toned skin sculpted by the harshness of working the land. Muscle corded his arms and legs, his stomach flat and taut.

A muscle deep in her core jumped as she melted in molten anticipation
. “Hurry.”
She stripped off her shorts and scooted to the far side of the narrow bed.

As he lowered himself to lie next to her, the heat of his skin seared her where it touched. Max’s eyes followed the path of his hand as it skimmed her torso. “God, you’re lovely.” He bent to whisper a kiss across her forehead; then he lowered her lips to hers.

The hot kiss sizzled as they lay plastered together on the narrow cot. Even on their sides, Max was perched precariously on the edge, not an inch between them.

Raising his head, he murmured, “I’ve got a better idea.” He pulled her over him to straddle his waist, and she moaned as her wet core made contact with his hot, smooth skin. The yellow light from the desk outlined the sharp planes of his jaw, his shoulder, his bronzed chest. She delighted in the change in texture as she ran her hands over as much skin as she could reach. Her skin tingled where his gaze roamed. His hands skimmed her ribs, encouraging her to raise her arms. She stretched, understanding that he wanted to see her that way.

“Free your hair,” he growled.

Bree tugged the band at her nape, and her hair tumbled down her back and, with a whispery touch, over her breasts. His hands tightened at her waist.

Modesty had no place here. She held his gaze as she leaned down to run her tongue over his nipple.

“Bree.” He brought her face to his to kiss her frantically. “Wait.” He stretched to reach his pants on the floor
and pulled out a condom. She took it from him and ripped it open with her teeth, hurrying to slide it over his pulsing erection.

“Bree, please…”

She smiled. Heady with the power she held over this hard man, she leaned down to tease his nipples with her own. She’d thought only to arouse him, but as her body glided, fissures of pleasure exploded between her legs. She moaned, sliding down until his jerking erection demanded entry.

His fingers squeezed her thighs, but he held himself still, jaw clenched, letting her take the lead. “Is this what you’ve been wanting, Max?” She slowly lowered herself and felt the head of him glide into her.

“Sweet Jesus,” Max growled as he grabbed her bottom, and bucking his hips, plunged into her.

Bree cried out as he filled her, the pressure of him making her frantic for more. As he massaged the sensitive bud in her soft folds with his thumb, bursts of pleasure shot through her. She leaned back and ground against him, to pull him deeper. Faster than she thought possible, an orgasm rocketed like fireworks through her body to explode in her brain. She swayed, keening, as her muscles clenched, milking him, unwinding her. He held her hips as he bucked, once, twice, and let out a hoarse shout.

She collapsed on top of him, dragging air into her starved lungs. She continued the lazy rocking, knowing the shocks that coursed through her traveled through him as well.

As his breathing calmed, the galloping heartbeat beneath her ear slowed. Her muscles were liquid. If she never moved from this spot, she’d die happy. He brushed her hair back for a kiss. A sweet, tender kiss that touched
her in places his fingers couldn’t. She folded her hands on his chest, resting her chin on them. Smiling, she said, “Well, now, cowboy. I’d say
that
was worth waiting for.”