Valentine's Cowboy

Valentine’s Cowboy

By

Starla Kaye

©2013 by Blushing Books® and Starla Kaye

Copyright © 2013 by Blushing Books® and Starla Kaye

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Blushing Books®,

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Kaye, Starla

Valentine’s Cowboy

eBook ISBN:
978-1-60968-241-5

Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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Starla Kaye

“Live, love, laugh… such simple words, but words I take to heart.  There are never enough hours in my day to do even half of the things I would like to do.  But no matter how crazy my life get, I try to incorporate my words to live by (live, love, laugh) into each day.”

Visit Starla’s website here:

http://starlakaye.com

Visit her blog here:

http://starlakaye.com/category/blog
/

Don’t miss these other exciting stories by Starla Kaye:

All He Wants For Christmas

Bah, Humbug Cowboy

Cupid’s Mistake

If You Loved Me

Chapter One

What she needed was a big Cupid dartboard on her office wall and a few darts. Then she could toss the darts at some strategic places. The vision almost made Valentine Hart smile.
Romance, patooi!
Probably a bad attitude for a professional romance therapist, but there it was.
Romance sucked!

If she was really lucky she would never receive another overly mushy card that professed how wonderful or how beautiful she was—in the most generic ways. She would never sit through another candlelight dinner for two where the man insisted on choosing her meal, unconcerned with what she really wanted. She would never endure having another handsome man seduce her with sweet talk, and then attempt to make her “see the stars” as he had his way with her body.

She sat back in her big leather executive chair, swiveled it to look out the window of her corner office, and tried to force the memory of the night before far from her mind. Not possible. It had been too awful. The blind date from hell, even if that was a bit cliché. It was such a shame, too. At first glance of the GQ fashioned stockbroker she’d had such hopes for the evening. Hopes that were dashed almost from the moment he sat down across from her in her favorite, very romantic little Italian restaurant. It would be a long time before she’d feel up to going there again. He’d soured her on that, too.

She squeezed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head at the sadness of it all. Shoulder-length hair dusted her shoulders. The effort didn’t get rid of the memory, but it did make her slightly dizzy. Or maybe she was dizzy and light-headed from lack of sleep lately, or from frustration. How about all of the above?

Why did the men she dated forget about her being a highly skilled professional and only see her blond hair, only think of her as ditzy? Why couldn’t men see past her unfortunate perfect Barbie doll figure? Weren’t there
any
men—make that
available
men—out there who thought with more than their dick? Men whose blood actually flowed all the way to their brain and could make conversation. Decent conversation, that is. More than about their flashy, over-priced car or their high-tech apartment with a playboy’s dream bedroom. Wasn’t there any man who could talk about more than his amazing skills between the sheets?

She heaved a disappointed sigh and looked again out at the sky burdened with thick gray clouds holding the promise of another depressing winter day. Perfect. She was already depressed about the whole issue of romance. Okay, she had to admit that never wanting any of those romantic things again was a bit dramatic. Normally, she liked all of that. But she hadn’t had much luck with any of it, beginning with her failed marriage.
Insert heavy sigh here
.

She was a professional, an independent woman quite capable of running a business and handling her life. She had a sensual, loving side that was apparently going to waste away if she continued in her rut of dating the wrong men. She didn’t want to be a man’s substitute mother, major “oh yuck!” Or be his caretaker. Too many of the men she’d dated in the last year seemed to be looking for those skills in a woman. If not those traits, then they wanted a brainless playmate in bed, particularly one who praised their super-stud abilities. As far as she’d been able to tell “super-stud” merely meant the man had a penis and knew where to stick it in his partner of the moment for his pleasure alone.

Okay, she was in a seriously bad mood.

Her thoughts returned to the male Cupid dartboard idea. She smiled wickedly, knowing exactly where she would toss that first dart.

Then the image of Cupid changed to her ex-husband. She cringed and quickly put many layers of clothing on “Cupid.” How could she
not
have sensed he was at heart a gay man? Why had she had to catch him enthusiastically having at it with their former neighbor before she slammed into the wall of reality? That was so not an image she wanted to keep in her mind! Even worse, why hadn’t she been horrified, angry, felt betrayed? She’d simply given him the divorce and wished him happiness in his next relationship.

And she’d not found a really hot relationship of her own since then.

Her breath caught in her throat as she figured it out.
I’m a lesbian!
That had to be the answer. But she didn’t remember ever paying all that much attention to what another woman looked like. She didn’t remember ever wondering what another woman would be like in bed. Maybe she’d been suppressing those things because she’d been married. Yes, that had to be it.
No. Well, maybe
. Oh, she was confused.

Feeling a headache coming on, she swiveled her chair back around to face her desk and the reality of her daily world. Her appointment schedule covered the monitor. No sign of a blank hourly space for the next month. Business was booming, which should make her feel great. Unfortunately, as a momentarily romantically challenged partner in a romance therapy business, she felt stressed instead. She couldn’t handle clients right now. She couldn’t find a way to offer advice to improve a relationship, or to suggest intimate little rendezvous ideas. She couldn’t face another hopeful couple seeking romantic bliss.

She needed a vacation. Now!

She glanced down at the wedding invitation from a sweet young couple she’d counseled the last couple of months. Shelby Thompson had absolutely blossomed during the sessions. Shelby had come completely out of the passion-suppressed state she’d been in due to having been raised by a stuffy, strict, domineering older brother. He wouldn’t even leave his precious ranch to go to the wedding in Maui. Boy, if she could get her hands on the man…or maybe toss a couple of darts his way.

Maui! Perfect
!

Before she could talk herself out of it, she punched the line for the firm’s receptionist. “Tracy?”

“Yes, Ms. Hart?”

“Clear my schedule for the next two weeks, beginning today. I’m going on vacation.”

Her heart raced at the spur of the moment decision. For too long the business had consumed her. She’d worked hard to help get the firm established. She’d sacrificed a lot of personal things, including her dream of opening a bed-and-breakfast and hosting retreats for women recovering from bad relationships. She was the reigning Queen of Bad Relationships. She’d been spinning out of control for too long.

It was time to get away, time to calm down, and time to figure out her life. Maybe even come to grips with her momentary sexual-orientation confusion. Something made only more confusing when her next mental image was of a darkly tanned, muscled, male luau dancer. Then another image popped into her head, one of a cowboy sitting atop a powerful horse, the cowboy’s well-defined chest was shirtless. She was a bare chest lover. Well, a nice taut butt was pretty intriguing also.

What was she thinking! The cowboy looked suspiciously like the photo Shelby had shown her of the doesn’t-have-a-clue-how-to-raise-a-sister older brother.

She forced away the image and reiterated her message to the receptionist, “Rearrange my schedule. Now!”

“Val? Val, what are you talking about?” came the horrified voice of one of her two partners, Abby Tarrington, obviously standing near the front desk. “You can’t leave! That’s just nuts!”

Valentine supposed the decision could be seen as “nuts,” but she didn’t actually care. She’d been working a ton more hours than either of her partners. Her choice, yes. But now she was making a new choice.  “I have two partners—of which
you
are one—who are more than capable of handling the firm’s appointments. I’ve covered for both of you many times.”

“Yes, but—”

“No
buts
about it, Abby! The beaches of Maui are calling me far away from Kansas City. Far, far away from Greg-of-bold-hands, and Thinks-he’s-super-stud-but-isn’t Paul.”

She cringed at the mention of her last two dates, especially GQ guy. Again wondering how it was that she attracted such jerks? Was there something on her forehead that flashed:
Need laid. Accept all ridiculous come-on lines.

She sensed Abby getting ready to launch into a lengthy protest and cut her off. “I’m burned out, useless as a romance therapist. I’m taking a break. Taking it now! Figure out how to deal with the schedule.”

* * *

Nine freaking hours on an airplane. Sam Thompson hated cramped spaces. He hated flying and everything about it. You didn’t even get decent meals anymore. A pitifully small bag of dried out pretzels, maybe. Or you could pay for a snack, which he refused to do. The cost of the ticket was bad enough. And there were crying babies with frustrated mothers. The flight attendants weren’t much better, after the first couple of hours they were pretty harried. Never again would he go through this kind of hell. His sister owed him big for this! It was bad enough she wanted him to put on a tux and give her away in marriage. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn a suit.