One Hot Cowboy (2 page)

could happen out here if a person wasn’t

careful.

It took just minutes to get through the

fringe of cottonwood trees ringing the

swimming hole. Older than anyone now

living on the ranch, those trees had seen

plenty. His brothers had had a rope-and-

tire swing here. They’d spent hours

whooping it up, clambering into the tire,

soaring out over the water, and letting go

of the rope as soon as the swing was over

the center of the pond where it was the

deepest. That water was cold as hell, too,

because it came from deep underground.

As soon as he reached the edge of the

trees, his feet stopped moving; tonight’s

swimmer was unexpected. He’d
expected

to find a few high school kids. Maybe a

cooler of beer or a couple a little too busy

discovering each other.

Instead, there was a woman in the water.

A damned fine, completely bare-ass

naked woman.

She cut through the dark water with

slow, lazy strokes. Not too tall and real

damned curvy. He could see her sun-kissed

skin even in the silvery moonlight. Water-

slicked blond hair covered her bare

shoulders and back. He should have been a

gentleman, should have looked away. But

damned if her swimming bare-ass naked in

his swimming hole wasn’t the sexiest thing

he’d ever seen.

She dove beneath the surface, giving him

a spectacular view of her ass. He

swallowed hard. From where he stood,

those curves looked as soft as peaches and

just as luscious. He wanted to cup both

cheeks in his hands. Run his hands down

that skin and explore every inch of her.

Even the shadowed crease between her

cheeks. Yeah, there, too, if she’d let him.

He’d show her every dark, sweet pleasure.

A slow grin tugged the corners of his

mouth. Hell, she’d have been safer if his

hell-raising younger brothers had been the

ones to find her.

He’d never pretended to be nice. He

didn’t have to. His family owned this

ranch. This world, this place, was
his,
and

here she was, blatantly trespassing without

so much as a by-your-leave.

His sexy swimmer reached a rocky

outcropping and grabbed for a plastic

bottle of shampoo. The scent of green

apples filled the air as, with a little hum,

she treaded water and lathered up before

slipping beneath the surface of the water.

That body of hers was now slick with

foam and appley-ness.

Christ, he’d always loved apples.

And, even though he hadn’t seen her face

yet, she looked good enough to eat.

The cold water of the Blackhawk

Ranch’s swimming hole nearly numbed

Rose, almost making her forget everything

that had gone so wrong. The loss of Auntie

Dee was still there, a deep, sore spot in

her heart, but maybe now that wound

would finally be able to start healing.

Coming back here to Lonesome was a

good start, she thought, even if it was at

Cabe Dawson’s imperious behest. Here

she could revisit some of her happiest

memories of Auntie Dee.

“Here’s to you, Auntie Dee.” Getting

ready to emerge, she lifted the shampoo

bottle in a mock toast. Auntie Dee had

loved crazy escapades. Even after Rose

had left Lonesome, and they had to share

their latest adventures by phone, Auntie

Dee had sometimes one-upped her. She

always wanted to hear all about Rose’s

life, but always, always, the older woman

had had stories of her own to tell.

Of course, the plain truth was that Rose

wasn’t here at the old Blackhawk

swimming hole just to swim and remember

Auntie Dee. No, she was here to get clean,

too, because she’d lost the key to the house

she’d inherited from Auntie Dee. Until she

was ready to face Cabe Dawson and

retrieve a copy, she’d be camping out.

Frankly, camping out was easier than

facing down his disappointed stare when

she confessed her carelessness.

God, she needed that house.

She needed to come home.

The water was a familiar kind of cold.

She’d swum her heart out here summer

after summer, whooping and jumping every

chance she got because she’d loved the

adrenaline rush as the swing’s rope curved

up through the air, taking her higher and

higher until her fingers slipped free and

she was falling, flying through the air with

the water waiting beneath her. Falling.

Flying. She’d gotten those two mixed up

back then. Then, when she’d left

Lonesome, she’d done more than her share

of both.

She knew the difference too well now.

When she heard the soft crunch of

gravel, she didn’t think too much of it. This

far out on the ranch, there was wildlife. It

was part and parcel of the place, but there

wasn’t anything out here that could really

hurt her. Still, the sound had her head

turning instinctively, her eyes searching the

darker shadows of the trees.

Adrenaline pumped through her in a

sickening, dizzying rush of sensation. Oh,

God. That wasn’t wildlife. There was

someone standing there in the shadows. A

large, too-male someone who was

watching her. She wasn’t stupid. She was

out here alone, and she was giving some

stranger one hell of a peep show. And that

was the best-case scenario.

No way she would be able to get out of

the water, grab her keys, and run past him

to her car. She would put herself within

arm’s reach in the process, and she could

imagine exactly how that scenario might

end.

Badly.

Maybe she could wait him out. But when

she swam out to the center of the

swimming hole, the water suddenly

seemed too cold, too dark. God, she had to

learn to
think
first. She shouldn’t have

come here, and she definitely shouldn’t

have come alone.

Booted feet moved forward, not making

any effort to keep quiet. He didn’t care if

she knew he was watching; he was

warning her of his presence. She froze, her

fingers clamping down around the stupid

bottle of shampoo. Eight ounces of Suave

wouldn’t save her now.

A rough growl of a voice came out of

the darkness. “What do you think I should

do with a naked trespasser, darlin’?”

The man behind the voice stepped out of

the shadows, crouching down by the

water’s edge. She knew the legs in those

faded jeans and those hand-tooled cowboy

boots. Even with his hat pulled down low,

she recognized
him
. Cabe Dawson. He’d

been her nemesis from the moment she’d

set foot in Lonesome. Eight years in the

town had burned that hard-edged, darkly

handsome face and big, strong body into

her memory. He was authority in these

parts, and she’d spent every minute

breaking his rules.

So it just figured Cabe Dawson would

catch her red-handed in his swimming hole

with a shampoo bottle, bare-ass naked.

“Well, cowboy, I’m thinking you should

march on back to that pickup of yours and

drive straight to hell.” The woman’s voice

was feminine, husky. And familiar. Way

too damned familiar.

Hell.

Recognition jolted through him, tossing

a big dose of wake-up onto his fantasies.

He recognized that voice.

Christ. This wasn’t just another teenager

looking for a quick thrill.

Even wet and slick from water, her

features were so very familiar as she

turned toward him. He knew that honey-

colored hair that hit just below her

shoulders, knew the darker slash of her

eyebrows. He’d spent too many hours

wondering if she colored her hair, because

that

was

just

one

of

the

many

contradictions that made up Rose Jordan.

He knew
exactly
how her creamy skin

freckled in the summertime and the

message

those

gray

eyes

were

telegraphing. Defiance. Disdain. One big

fuck-you to the very idea of rules. She

swam like a fish—and like she damned

well belonged there.

And she’d been avoiding him for far too

long.

“Not a chance, Rose.”

“Really?” She smiled up at him slowly,

treading water while she plotted her next

move. Even now, in the dark, the water

wasn’t quite enough to hide her body from

him. The curve of her breasts was all too

obvious when her arms met and then

pushed the water away. His dick liked that

just fine, too, which reminded him how

wrong all this was. She was supposed to

get her fine ass back to Lonesome, but she

wasn’t supposed to be
here
.

He’d always had a prickly relationship

with Rose. When they hadn’t been locked

in a silent power struggle, they’d fought

outright. She didn’t acknowledge any

authority, even when she should. She’d run

with his younger brothers, got in trouble

with them, and, even when she’d done that

running on Blackhawk Ranch, she hadn’t

wanted to listen to his rules.

Hell, she hadn’t wanted anything from

him at all.

This time, though, he’d have to figure

out a way to make her take what he had to

offer. He didn’t want to break her heart,

didn’t want to tell her that Auntie Dee

hadn’t left her much of an inheritance, not

money-wise. It would be simpler and

easier to just write Rose a big check for

the old place and let her haul her sweet ass

back out of town. She wasn’t a stay-put

kind of woman anyhow, so she probably

already had her exit planned.

He shouldn’t feel guilty about what he’d

done.

Auntie Dee hadn’t had any biological

family left. Hell, that was why Cabe had

made her the offer he had—he’d reverse-

mortgage her place, give her the money she

needed to live, and he’d get her land when

she passed on unless her estate paid back

the money. She wouldn’t take his money

any other way, and Cabe figured he could

always use more land. Especially land

with an aquifer beneath it. Sure, he’d kept

their arrangement quiet, but that was

because it was nobody’s business but his

and Auntie Dee’s. Auntie Dee had had her

pride.

“You finally came home, darlin’. It’s

about time. Past time, actually.” He

drawled the words, wondering if he should

share the truth with her right now. That

Auntie Dee’s place was going to be his,

not Rose’s, unless Rose had a whole lot of

cash saved up somewhere. That wasn’t

fair, letting her come down here all

unawares, but she hadn’t returned his calls

and he wasn’t explaining this in an e-mail.

Now, it seemed even less fair to tell Rose,

while she was naked and vulnerable.

Unfortunately, the naked part still had

him thinking things he shouldn’t.

Naked
. This was Rose Jordan he was

thinking about. Rose Jordan he wanted to

scoop up out of that water and lay out in

the back of his pickup. He’d make her

holler as he ate her right up. He’d bet that,

when Rose Jordan came, she came as

wholeheartedly as she did everything else.

This was his land.

His territory.

And, whether Rose Jordan realized it or

not,
she
was now his, too.

Cabe Dawson, in the flesh, packed a

brute-force sensuality that made no bones

about the raw power of the man. Sure and

confident, he ran this ranch and everyone

on it. Cabe had been a mostly benevolent

dictator—Rose had always acknowledged

that—but he’d never forgotten he was the

man in charge, and he’d always done what

he believed was best for Blackhawk

Ranch.

There’d been no place for her in that

world of his.

She’d never belonged to Cabe Dawson

like that, and he’d never seen her as more