Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel (25 page)

“The heroine chose the cowboy who made her fall in love with him with that story about his first bull ride.”

Slade’s eyes spoke everything he was feeling, even though he said only one word. “Good.”

Then his lips were upon hers, his mouth hot when his tongue sought hers. His hands roamed her body like he was trying to memorize every inch of her. Her hands did the same, missing him all over again after the months they’d spent apart.

“I want you to be mine, Jenna. I mean really mine. I know it will be tough long distance, but maybe I can visit between competitions, and maybe you can come see me too.”

“We can make it work, but you’re going to have to get a cell phone,” she warned.

Slade smiled. “Okay. Deal.”

Jenna nodded then she pulled away, frowning. “Will Mustang be okay with you and me, you know, being a couple?”

“He knows how I feel.” Slade laughed. “Mustang knew long before I did, or at least before I was willing to admit it.”

“He did leave us alone to talk, but does he expect to come back here and,” she motioned to the bed, “you know.”

“I think that’s up to you.” Slade watched her closely, his face suddenly a closed book once more.

“Is that what you want? I know you share a lot…”

“Jenna, I would be very happy to never share you again with another living soul. Hell, I’d be even happier if I could legally beat the crap out of every man who ever even looks at you.”

She laughed as her heart did a little tumble. No man had ever wanted to beat anyone up on her behalf before. “Okay.”

Slade’s face remained stoic. “But I want you to know this. I will do anything it takes to keep you in my life and if you want…if what you need…”

“What are you trying to get at, Slade?”

He let out a sigh. “I’m saying I know you enjoy being with Mustang, and if it means I have to share you with him once in a while, on occasion, rather than lose you completely, I’m willing to give it a try.”

Jenna felt her brows shoot up to her hairline. “That is quite an offer, Slade.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yup.”

Slade’s concession was both magnanimous and insanely intriguing at the same time. “You’d be willing to do that for me even though you’d rather beat him up for just looking at me?”

He dipped his head again. “Yup.”

There was the man of few words she’d fallen in love with. Jenna leaned in to him and rose up on tiptoe. “Don’t get scared, but I think I love you, Slade Bower.”

“I’ve never said those words before, Jenna. Maybe to my mamma, but not like that to a woman.”

Jenna drew in a deep breath, resigning herself after his confession that she wouldn’t be hearing them now.

His grip tightened on her arms. “I never said it because I never felt it. But I pretty sure I feel it now with you.” He laughed. “Wow. Saying that wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”

Jenna laughed too. “I’m glad, because it shouldn’t be hard, Slade.”

The hotel phone ringing interrupted the kiss Slade had been about to deliver. With a deep sigh, he released his grasp on her and answered it.

“Hello?” He listened for a second and then covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Mustang. He says some of the guys are going out and he needs to know if he should go with them or come back here.”

The question hung heavily in the air between them.

“Tell him that as a native New Yorker, I suggest he go out and enjoy the city. Just be careful.”

The look of resignation on Slade’s face disappeared as he broke out into a huge smile. He relayed the message, hanging up the phone afterwards and coming back to her. “So, does that mean the answer to the sharing question is no?”

Jenna nodded and Slade’s hands rewarded her by taking a journey down her back to settle on her butt.

“For tonight, anyway,” she added. Slade frowned and she laughed at him. “Hey. What women would totally close the door on an offer to have two cowboys dedicated to pleasing her in bed?”

Slade’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been writing too many of those naughty romance books, woman.”

“You should thank God I did write that book. It’s what brought us together.”

“Yes it did and for that I’ll always have a special place in my heart for naughty romance books.”

“And for naughty romance novel authors?”

Slade smiled. “Just the one.”

Jenna smiled, too. happier than ever. “Good.”

Cat Johnson is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance in genres including military romance, cowboy ménage and most recently paranormal. A Junior Leaguer and professional harpist, Cat uses her laptop so much she wore the letters off the keyboard within a year. Cat is known for her creative marketing and research practices; consequently she owns an entire collection of camouflage shoes, a fair number of her friends wear combat boots for a living and she’s the sponsor for a real live bull riding cowboy. For more visit
www.catjohnson.net

Send an email to
[email protected]
.

Now Available:

Rough Stock

A Prince Among Men

Crossing the Line

Model Soldier

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True Blue

Nice & Naughty’

Smalltown, U.S.A.

Red, Hot, and Blue

Opposites Attract

Coming Soon:

Studs in Spurs

Bucked

Just say “no” to your ex. If only it were that easy…

The Joy of Ex

© 2009 Brit Ryan

Lily McInness Mysteries, Book 1
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Bailing her ex-husband, Les, out of jail is the second stupidest thing Lily has ever done. The stupidest thing? Letting him spend the night in her bed. By the next morning he’s gone, and so is her emergency cash. She has no choice but to take over managing his restaurant. It’s her only hope of recouping her losses.

When Les’ “vacation” drags on and the mob starts making threats, the real reason for his disappearance becomes clear. She needs help—and she’ll take it tall, dark, and extra bulky, if you please.

Chicago Police Superintendent Paul Mascara won’t let Lily’s relationship with her multiple exes stop him from getting what he wants. Right now, that would be her in his bed. It isn’t long before their nights are as hot as the mob breathing down her neck.

In a dangerous game where the rules keep changing, there are only two things for Lily to do. Keep searching for Les. And show the real perpetrator how seriously she takes until death do us part.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Joy of Ex

“Lily?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Les.”

She delivered the next two words convincingly. “Les who?”

“Maybe this will help you remember. We were married once.”

“Longest ten minutes of my life.”

“Taken up comedy, sweetheart?”

She switched off the intonation in her voice. “What do you want, Leslie?” She hated girls’ names on men and, though his name was actually Lester, she called him Leslie just to zing him. A privilege earned after being married to the jerk.

He spilled it. “You’re my one phone call.”

“My my.”

“Twenty thousand will spring me loose. Can you help me out?”

There was something about that word “help” that always got to her. Go to the one who needs you most. “Where are you?”

He told her.

“Don’t leave before I get there.”

———

A plainclothesman was standing in the anteroom, talking to a bail clerk who was caged behind a bulletproof window. The plainclothesman looked sort of familiar but Lily couldn’t place him. Tall, dark, and extra bulky, with eyes that made her hope she’d put her nose on straight this morning.

She squeezed past him and tried to slide the bail receipt under the window, but he blocked her move and fingered the receipt. When the clerk didn’t object, Lily figured he must be the boss-man so she directed her question at him. “I’ve paid for him, so may I have him back? Please?”

“In a minute.” He read the receipt. “Wife?”

“Do I look that unlucky?”

So he looked, taking in her five-foot-five-inch frame with excruciating slowness—the sexy black heels, the shapely calves, the snug black skirt, the silk blouse buttoned low on the chest, and the shoulder-length hair the color of an Irish Setter’s fur. Once he reached the top of her head, his gaze went back to hers. “I’ve never seen eyes that color of green before. Contacts?”

Her flirt factor spiked and hit the ceiling. She slid a hand down her body and, using her haughtiest voice, said, “I assure you that the entire package is one hundred percent authentic.”

Grinning like a wild hyena, he told her in a very sincere voice that he believed her. Still holding the receipt, he had the clerk buzz him through the door that led to the jail.

Ten minutes later, when he returned with Lester’s belongings, Lily rummaged through them and put some well-contrived panic into her voice. “Where’s his leash? I can’t take him home without his leash.”

The plainclothesman let out a belly laugh that traveled down the corridor and took the corner without ever slowing down. She liked a man who knew how to laugh.

“He’ll be out after he’s had his rabies shot.” Mr. Extra Bulky left the anteroom. He had a sense of humor. She liked that too.

Before Lily could poke on the blinker and merge into the traffic, Les said, “I don’t smoke but I could really go for a ciggie.”

She took her hands off the steering wheel and set them in her lap. “You know something? So could I.” There was a tobacco seller across the street, and she pointed it out to him with her chin. “Get me something that’s long and slender and matches the color of my hair.”

“But they don’t make anything with black roots, sweetheart.”

Never in her life had she dyed her red hair. She reprimanded him with an efficient, “Shut up.”

Five minutes later, Les was tapping the tip of the Sobranie box against the dash like a pro. When he was satisfied, he pointed the package of multi-colored cigarettes at her. “A cocktail cigarette for my lady?”

They lit up, she with a lavender and he with an orange. She eased out the clutch and squeezed the Porsche into traffic.

A night in the slammer had done nothing to enhance Les’ personal hygiene and off-loading him would be her pleasure. Thank goodness the cigarette smoke temporarily masked his
eau de
jailhouse odor. “Where do you live?” she asked.

Practically choking to death on the question, he laughed and said, “That’s a good one.”

It wasn’t a joke.

“You know where I live,” he said.

She did not. “I stopped keeping track of you the day heaven dropped the divorce decree in my lap.”

He blew a perfect O at the windshield. “I know where you live.”

She really wished he didn’t. “Where should I drop you?”

“Your place is fine. No one will look for me there. They expect me to live somewhere with more class and not in some seedy on-the-fringe neighborhood.”

“Look, Leslie, I just paid twenty thousand dollars for you. That’s too much money to pay to have you lobbing insults at me. Why did you call me?”

“You’re the only one I know who would have that kind of the scratch lying around. I’ve been praying old habits died hard. You still keep twenty-five grand in your wall safe at home, don’t you, baby?”

He wasn’t a bad guy when he told the truth. She lifted her chin an inch but kept staring straight ahead and driving that way too. Don’t ask her why she did it, but she drove him back to her place.

———

She brought him upstairs and gave him some towels and a bar of antibacterial soap. “Take off your clothing,” she ordered.

But when Les got a little over enthusiastic about taking them off and began to do an impromptu striptease, Lily put on her stern voice and told him to finish his dance behind the bathroom door, please. He had gotten fat and even though her sexual drought had been rather prolonged, she had no desire to watch as this tub-of-lard unpeeled himself. Besides, she was working on maintaining her second virginity. Well, at least that’s what she kept telling herself it was anyway.

If she’d had some men’s clothing, she would have loaned them to him and sent him on his merry way. Unfortunately, Les was the first man to cross her threshold since she had moved here two years ago. She hauled his jailhouse rags down to the washing machine and did a load.

Later, when she brought the laundered clothing back upstairs, he was under the covers, in her bed, snoozing. She shoved him. “Hey.”

He woke up and looked at her through swollen slits. “I bet you never thought we’d be sharing a bed again, did you, sweetheart?”

It took two words to clarify things. “We’re not.” Nothing he did or said made her laugh, and she really could use a good laugh right now. She dropped the pile of clothing on his head. “C’mon, Les. It’s getting dark. Time to get this show on the road.
Hasta la vista
, baby.”

“Dark?” He bolted into a sitting position. “My dog has been alone since last night.”

“Then why don’t you go home?”

“I don’t want to. Can you pop over and get her? Please, Lily? She’s a nice dog. She really is.”

“I hate dogs.” She knew now that bailing him out of jail was the second stupidest thing she had ever done. She tried to slap a big fat “Congratulations Sucker” on her back, but her arm wouldn’t reach that far.

“Help me out on this. We’ll leave tomorrow. I promise.”

Why did he have to use the word “help” again? She shoved a pad and pencil at him. “Give me your address and give me your keys. Oh, and in case I forget to mention it later, let me tell you now, I hate you.”

He laughed, molded his head into her cushy, down pillow, and went back to sleep.

Son-of-a…son-of-a.

———

On the drive over, Lily realized that Les hadn’t even told her the dog’s name or the breed. Since most owners usually ended up looking like their dogs, she experimented with some visualization. After several long minutes, a barrel-bellied black lab that slobbered and sniffed in all the wrong places came into view. The next twenty-four hours were going to be hell. Pure hell.