One Hot Cowboy (10 page)

and awed him at the same time. Rose had

always been game, always up for a

challenge. That was something special.

She
was special.

The rain soaked her tank top, plastering

the thin fabric against her breasts. As far as

he could tell, she was wearing a bra—

barely. The delicate little lace cups were

more perch than ledge, though, the rain

outlining every flourish and curlicue in the

fabric that barely contained her. It was one

hell of a view.

She danced toward him, looking so

damned happy and he had no idea why.

Hell, he should have told her the truth

about her place when he’d had the chance.

Time to face the truth himself, too. He

wanted Rose. Badly.

When he reached out to her, she didn’t

hesitate, just put her fingers in his as if

accepting his invitation to waltz. He tugged

her closer and caught her, depositing her

on his thigh.

“Cabe! This is . . . unexpected,” she

gasped. Her fingers curled into the soft

cotton of his T-shirt, clutching his

shoulders. She was as off-balance as he

was.
Hell, yeah
.

“You wanted to help,” he pointed out

gruffly. “This works for me.”

“Cabe . . .” She watched him, laughing a

little, but he didn’t miss the note of

uncertainty there. She didn’t know what he

wanted. Well, he planned to show her.

And then he’d make her want it, too.

Wrapping a hand around the back of her

neck, he gently urged her face closer to his.

“How is . . . this . . . helping?” she

whispered.

“You have no idea.” His mouth formed

the words against hers. Her lips tasted like

the strawberry lip gloss she’d used. Sweet

and soft and slick. He rubbed his thumb

over those lips, wanting more. “But I’ll

show you, Rose.”

She leaned in to his touch, and he

wondered if she realized what she was

doing. She was driving him crazy, the way

she seemed to want to get closer. Getting

both hands wrapped around her, he cupped

her neck and her cheek, pulling her mouth

down onto his. She could still leave. It

wouldn’t take much effort. Those fingers

curling into his shoulders could push, and

he’d let go.

When their lips met, he took control

ruthlessly. He wouldn’t pretend this was

anything but what it was. The two of them

wanting each other.

The rain coming down around them was

slowing now. He should have gotten her

inside the truck and out of the rain, but all

he could do was kiss her and kiss her, his

mouth devouring hers, his lips parting hers.

She opened up for him, and he swept

inside. Stroking and tasting. Learning every

inch of this part of her. His Rose was so

damned sweet.

The scent of her wrapped around him,

surrounding him every bit as much as her

sexy little whimpers. She liked this. God,

Rose liked this, and that set him on fire.

When she finally pulled back, sucking in

air as if to clear her head and get free of

the sensual snare he’d set, he held on tight.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t stop, Rose.”

She gazed at him in misty confusion.

That kiss had changed everything.

“We’re not just friends anymore,” he

warned, and he saw the small shock of

surprise in her eyes.

“Friends?” she echoed.

He shook his head. Hadn’t she realized

he considered her a friend? Certainly a

friend of the family, at least.

“No . . . no, I guess we’re not,” she said

softly. Then something mischievous lit up

those gray eyes of hers. “Friends with

benefits?” she whispered against his

mouth, her arms around his neck.

The rain was disappearing, sweeping

over the next hill. The low growl of the

thunder faded, and all that was left was the

scent of wet ground and wet metal and the

very wet woman in his arms.

She watched his face, and he didn’t

know what she expected to see there.

They’d shared a kiss, more than a kiss, and

now she had one hot cowboy on her hands.

He didn’t know what she wanted. All he

knew was that this was one of those

moments he’d always remember. She was

making a memory for him, for
them,

whether she knew it or not. And he’d do

his damnedest to make certain that memory

was a good one. Scooping her up, he set

her on her feet.

“You wanted to dance,” he said. “So

dance with me, Rose.”

Pulling her up into a slow, sensual two-

step, he danced her in a slow circle as the

last of the raindrops came down around

them. It was just the two of them, the

lowing cattle singing them a little song in

the background, and that metallic scent of

the pickup wet with rain. The rain wasn’t

enough to solve his water issues, but right

now, for just this moment, he didn’t give a

damn.

“Cabe . . .” she got out. She was looking

for words, an explanation for this sudden

shift in their relationship, and maybe she

was right. Some things had to be said, no

matter how much he wished they didn’t.

He gave her as much honesty as he

could. “You’re so damn beautiful, Rose.”

And even that was an understatement, he

thought, smoothing the damp strands of hair

away from her face. “You always have

been.” Was that a flash of surprise in her

eyes? Did she want him to say something

else?

“You never seemed to think so before,”

she pointed out. She hadn’t let go of his

shoulders, though, so he figured he still had

a chance.

“Hell, Rose,” he growled. “You wanted

me to tell one of my kid brothers’ friends

that I thought she was the prettiest girl I’d

ever seen? That wouldn’t have been

appropriate, and we both know it.”

“So now I’m older, it’s all okay?” Her

eyes laughed quietly up at him. “We

probably shouldn’t . . .”

There was no
probably
about it, but, if

she’d let him hold her, he’d be holding.

And doing whatever else she’d allow.

Her leg—her
bare
leg—shifted, rubbing

wickedly against the erection straining

against the buttons of his jeans.

“Then I guess we have a whole lot of

lost time to make up for.” What that sexy

little rub of her leg was doing to him

belied her prosaic tone.

There was nothing civilized or decent

about how he felt, about how her rain-

soaked body moving against his felt. This

was raw. Earthy. Christ, yes, he wanted to

sleep with her, lose himself in her. She

was old enough, and, just maybe, she

wanted him, too. But that wasn’t all he

wanted. He wasn’t sure what the something

more
was that he craved, but he knew for

damned sure he wanted more than sex, no

matter how hot.

“Don’t overthink, Cabe.” She placed her

hand on his mouth. “This is simple. Do we

. . . have something here? Yes or no.”

He gave in to the temptation to press a

kiss against her palm, to inhale the sweet,

clean scent of her. When he moved his

head, her hand slipped down to his jaw.

“Yes,” he growled. “Goddamn it, yes,

Rose.”

“No more talking. Not now. Let’s just

dance.”

He slowly swung her around, holding

her in his arms. Taking a long second to

savor the heat and scent of the woman.

He lowered his mouth slowly this time.

Giving her time to anticipate. To move

away if she had to, because he needed this

to be as perfect for her as he sensed it

would be for him.

His mouth captured hers, gentle but

inexorable. His first kiss was just a warm

brush of his lips against her closed mouth.

Just feeling the soft skin beneath his and

the sweet promise of more.

“You’re perfect, darlin’,” he whispered.

He kissed her again, harder and deeper.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her

up against him so that he could feel all of

her as he explored her mouth and lost

himself

in

her

sweet,

wet

heat.

Somewhere, somehow, their kiss changed.

Became hotter. Her hands slid up his arms,

locking behind his neck and pulling him

down in to her as she met him touch for

touch in a blaze of sweet heat spiraling out

of control.

Chapter Four

“L
ast chance.” The pickup roared beneath

the

hand-lettered

sign

announcing

Blackhawk Ranch. Usually, when he drove

beneath that sign, he couldn’t stop the little

flare of pride. His daddy had done his best

to run this place into the ground after their

mama died, but Cabe had held on. He and

his brothers had made the sign themselves,

burning each letter into the wood, one by

one.

Now, that sign meant there was half a

mile left until he’d have Rose where he

wanted her. Where he’d dreamed of having

her. He turned his head and stared at his

companion in the front seat beside him.

She watched him right back, looking

hungry.

“You’re not getting off that easy,

cowboy,” she teased bravely. “If you’ve

got cold feet, let me know.” Curling her

legs up on the seat, she leaned into him.

He’d turned the heater on, soaking the cab

in warmth, and now her drying hair curled

wildly. He put a hand on her leg, needing

to touch her just that little bit, even though

he could see the house now. Just a few

more minutes, and he’d have her home.

Home
. She’d come back to Lonesome,

expecting to inherit a home. Instead, she’d

inherited a mortgage she couldn’t possibly

pay back. He was going to take that home

from her.

After he had
her
.

Yeah.
He shouldn’t be doing this.

Shouldn’t want her like this, but he did,

and bringing her here felt somehow right.

“There’s nothing cold about me,

darlin’.” He grinned and threw the pickup

into park.

“So,” she asked, leaning toward him

before he could get his hand on the door.

“Are you still mad at me for making you

wait so long for me to get here?”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of

his mouth. If they sat there much longer,

half the house would be out to see what

was up. He didn’t want an audience for

what he had in mind. “You did take six

months,” he drawled.

“I thought about taking seven,” she

admitted.

His hand closed over hers, tugging her

close for a quick, hard kiss. “Why didn’t

you?”

An impish smile claimed her face as she

kissed him back, her tongue tracing his

bottom lip. “I got laid off,” she admitted.

“Lost my job and couldn’t keep up with my

expenses, so I figured it was smarter to

come back here now, where I had the

house, even if I couldn’t afford to fix it up

yet.”

When she smiled and talked about

Auntie Dee’s house, her whole face lit up.

He’d spent his life here, working his ass

off to keep the ranch going. He’d seen the

life sucked out of good men who’d poured

themselves, heart and soul, into their

places. His Rose was so alive. She played

by an entirely different set of rules. Maybe,

just maybe, Rose Jordan was a chance at

pleasure, a different kind of living. He

couldn’t pass her up.

“I would have come for you,” he

promised. “I wouldn’t have let you stay

away from me forever.”

“Promises,” she said lightly, but he

could see the hunger in her eyes as she

shifted away from him, reaching for the

door. She had always been impatient,

never able to wait. He was looking

forward to making her do some waiting

now. “You want to spank me, Cabe, for

misbehaving?”

Hell, now
there
was an image to make a

man think twice. He could just see her, her