Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? (17 page)

The warm tickle of his breath sent a tingle straight to her breasts, and her nipples tightened against him as a surprised huff of laughter escaped her.
You want him
, her inner voice said. The humor fled as quickly as it had come and reason replaced it. Out loud she mumbled, “Wait. Stop.”

He drew back, confusion replacing the desire in his eyes. Throwing herself back into his arms was definitely more appealing than what she had to say. “I want to make it clear—whatever we do here. This is not…I mean, I don’t…” She gritted her teeth. How to say this without sounding like an overeager slut? “I’m not expecting any kind of commitment from you.”

His eyes darted to the side and he rolled completely off her, leaving her cold where he had touched her. Ainsley realized commitment had never crossed his mind. At least he had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I should take you back to the ranch.”

Her blood screamed in her veins and she obeyed its command. “No. We’re staying here.” She straddled him, his erection pulsing beneath her, and splayed her hands on his chest. Leaning down, she whispered, “Very sweet of you to offer, though. Your mother must have raised you right.”

A growl rose in his throat. “My mother raised me to take what I want and the rest of it be damned. And right now, I want you.”

He moved so swiftly that Ainsley found herself beneath him again before she could say a word. His mouth moved along the column of her throat and down her shirt, agonizingly slow, until it reached a taut peak. He exhaled, hot air cascading over her breast, and a moan of pleasure escaped her.

Too many clothes. She fumbled at the hem of his shirt to get that skin-to-skin contact, to feel his rigid torso against her soft belly. All she wanted was to be naked beneath him.

A low chuckle came from deep in his throat, the rumbling zinging new sensations over her. Kneeling beside her, he lifted her shirt with agonizing slowness, exposing an inch of flesh at a time. Her stomach quivered under his intense gaze until she grabbed the material herself and flung it over her head, then reached for his buttons with trembling fingers. An ache of primal need blinded her to everything except having this beautiful man as he shrugged out his shirt. He lightly skimmed the two freckles above her breast, then slid his hands down to hold her by the hips.

“Touch me,” he whispered, his voice a physical caress that tugged at her heart. She stroked his chest, her nails causing his nipples to pebble, and he sucked in a quick breath but he held himself still. She lowered her hand and ran a finger between his heated torso and the top of his jeans before she unbuttoned them.

A groan escaped him and he grabbed her hand, raising it above her head while he covered her with his long body. “Not yet,” he whispered before he claimed her lips with a driven possessiveness. His hand cupped her right breast, his thumb rubbing through her bra, her nipple hard and craving his touch on her tormented flesh.

Still way too many clothes.

His other hand glided around her back and freed her breasts from their restraint. She shimmied out of her bra and his head lowered to catch one aroused peak in his mouth, licking and sucking while his hand gently skimmed her other breast, the dual sensations lighting a fire in her blood. She thrust her hips against him, a desperate fervor spiking through her at his sharp intake of breath.

His talented lips moved to her other breast while one long finger glided along the waistband of her jeans. Her body throbbed in anticipation of his touch. His fingers inched down the outside her clothes until they rested at the juncture between her legs and she moaned as awareness spread over her being. He flicked his fingers over the tight jeans, each small movement sparking darts of delicious shocks. The pressure and his pace, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, coaxed her body to lose control and she raised her hips, eager and wanting the final push that he gave, sending her tight muscles into a frenzy before leaving her breathless and dizzy with pleasure.

Pure masculine satisfaction thrummed through his blood as Ainsley’s body went limp against him, her breath ragged. He tucked her under his shoulder, the rapid beat of her heart pounding against his bare chest. Her hand inched down his torso. Blazing hunger shot through him, but it was more than solely physical need. She captivated him on a personal level, too, and he didn’t want that. He had no desire to have any woman permanently in his life. “I want you. Naked and writhing in my arms.” He breathed in her ear and stilled her hand with his own, enjoying the trembling that coursed over her body and the small moan that escaped her mouth. “But not here. When I take you, it’ll be all night.”

A
insley clutched Riley’s hand so hard it might lose circulation, but she needed his strength as they approached the house a half hour late for dinner. She ran her other fingers through her hair to get the tangles out before they hashed it out with the crowd, trying to hide all traces of their afternoon.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She stopped the movement and offered him a shy smile before he opened the door and followed her into the kitchen, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Hopefully no one would notice they were a little late.

They noticed.

Half-f plates sat in front of each woman. Openly hostile glares raked over Ainsley before shifting to Riley with sweet smiles and innocent eyes. Only Meagan’s smile looked genuine. Molly’s displeasure stood out in her narrowed eyes, though she struggled to speak with a guise of indifference. “You’re late.”

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” Ainsley said.

“We lost track of time,” he added to shoulder the blame. “The afternoon activities took longer than anticipated.”

She eyed the hot turkey and a bowl of stuffing, the bready fragrance making her stomach tighten. “Dinner looks delicious.”

“I hope you like it cold,” Jewel snapped. Ainsley pressed her lips together and said nothing more. The other woman threw her napkin on the table and stalked out of the room.

“Well,” said Jeanne, and Ainsley flinched when she spoke. “I hope at least you had a fun day?”

Hopefully she asked out of politeness and not because of any emotions on his face. She swallowed before answering. “Yes.”

“All right, then. Grab a plate,” Molly said.

Riley handed Ainsley a plate and she slid into a seat next to Meagan. The stilted conversation picked up again. Ainsley sneaked a peak at Riley. His sexy glint gave her a solid kick in her gut and she squirmed, the memory of their hot afternoon still imprinted on her body.

Only the remnants of the turkey and a few crumbs of stuffing were left when the doorbell rang and the Pommers exchanged glances. Molly excused herself to answer it.

“Oh, for the love of a hat rack,” Ainsley muttered when she saw Edward. She hid behind her hand, knowing it was futile but making the attempt anyway. It would make too big a scene if she tried to slide under the table.

“Darling!” Edward rushed to her side, nearly knocking over her water glass in his haste to be next to her. His pants were wrinkled from travel, but the knot in his striped purple tie and neatly combed hair showed he’d spruced himself up before he arrived at the house. Not that it mattered. “I came straight here from the airport.”

“Why?” she asked the table from behind her hand shield.

“Why?” His normally smooth and cultured voice sounded higher and laced with a desperation she had never heard from him. His eyebrows furrowed and he put a hand on her head, like a puppy to be trained and led. “To take you home with me.”

She squirmed away from his touch. “Not why did you come here. I meant, why me?”

Feminine chatter filtered into her ears, most of which sounded like “she already has a boyfriend” and “what is she doing here, anyway?” She closed her eyes, hoping Edward would disappear when she opened them.

“The accountant?” Riley asked stiffly from the head of the table.

She nodded. “Edward, please go home.” She peeked through her fingers. He was still there, solid and irritating and thickheaded. “Pretty please?”

“Sweetheart, you can’t possibly expect me to believe you’d rather stay and work on a ranch with odiferous animals than come home with me,” Edward stated.

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds to keep from screaming. “What about Cecelia?”

Anguish flashed through his eyes and he closed them. When he opened them, they held stone-cold determination and his voice was back to its practiced normalcy. “I have to admit I was a bit thrown when she showed up on the cruise instead of you, but don’t worry. She could never come between us.”

“I want her to come between us.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would you want that?” He knelt beside her and took one of her hands. “You’re perfect for me, Ainsley. I couldn’t imagine my life without someone like you.”

He continued talking but she blocked him out, her mind swirling with ways of getting him to leave from threatening him with her butter knife to feigning amnesia. Maybe she could strangle him with her napkin.

Riley spoke before she had a plan of action. “You heard the lady. Go home.”

“Riley, please. I can handle this,” she said. As well as she’d been handling it for the past few years. Which was not at all. The man was driven by the passions of her mother and the way he thought his life should be and nothing she said ever filtered into his dense skull. This time, however, she might be able to distract him with thoughts of her sister.

“You the self-important waddy who thinks he can steal my girl from me?” Edward rose, squaring his soft shoulders with his hands tightening into fists. He flicked a quick glance at Ainsley. His eyes held a firm resolve, but behind that shield was the pain of desperation.

He didn’t want to be there as much as she didn’t want him. “Edward, I’m not—” she started.

Riley rose slowly and stood so his chair was between him and Edward. “I’m the waddy who knows what the lady wants, the lady gets. And right now, she wants you gone.”

Ainsley stood up, too. “Riley, you—”

“You’re wasting your time, Cowboy. Ainsley belongs with me,” Edward said, reaching for her hand.

She plastered it to the table. “I don’t—”

“Ainsley belongs wherever she thinks she belongs, Hayseed,” Riley said calmly.

She pushed back her chair and stalked out of the house, letting the two men vent their testosterone-fueled discussion without her in the audience. It really wasn’t about her, anyway. She continued to her cabin, muttering. “Of all the high-handed, possessive, idiotic things.” She slammed the door to let out her frustration, but it wasn’t enough. Sofa cushions took the brunt of her animosity as she threw them around the room. She didn’t notice Meagan until her roommate hung up the phone.

“We’re going out,” she announced.

Ainsley stood amid the overturned cushions, panting with the exertion of working off her anger. “Where?”

“Cookie told me of a bar in the next town called Shy Ann’s. We can go there, dance, blow off some steam. One of the ranch hands makes extra money shuttling guests into town, so he’s going to drive us and we can call him when we’re ready to come home.”

“Wow. There’s something to do here after dark? I’m impressed.” Ainsley took in the scattered furniture and nodded. “I’m in.”

The two women trekked the distance to the ranch entrance where they met the worker. It was a quick jaunt, and Ainsley started to feel better after her adrenaline flowed out of her.

“I’ve always wanted to ride a mechanical bull,” Meagan said.

“Really?” Ainsley asked.

“No,” her roommate said. “But now that I’ve heard about it, it seems like fun.”

Ainsley took her friend’s hands. “I’m so glad you’re here with me. Parts of this so-called vacation would’ve been horrible if I had to go through it alone.”

The twenty-minute cab ride ended in a dirt parking lot filled with cars and trucks next to an old red building with white columns supporting the eaves. A painted yellow sign with a brown bison proclaimed the place was Shy Ann’s. The weathered wooden stairs popped and cracked with each step they took to the porch, and Ainsley was half afraid the boards would split beneath their weight. Meagan pulled open an old, banged-up six-panel door. Loud music vibrated the air and thick smoke distorted Ainsley’s vision. They scooted around the lowered wooden dance floor centered in the room and headed toward the bar. Couples danced choreographed steps, the twang of country music amplified in the small room. After getting a couple of beers, the two women sat and inspected the other people at the bar.

Ainsley took a long swallow and slumped back in her chair. “I needed this.”

“It’s been a crazy week,” Meagan agreed, sipping her own beer. She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Don’t look now, but that guy is totally checking you out. Five o’clock.”

“Yeah?” Ainsley stretched and peeked over her shoulder. A good-looking guy, maybe in his early twenties, in jeans and a plain white t-shirt swaggered over to them.

“Well, I thought I knew all the pretty ladies around here so how come you two have escaped my notice?” he asked, flipping a chair around one-handed and sitting on it backwards.

Meagan’s face filled with amusement and they both took time assessing him before she spoke. “Not bad. But the chair thing was a bit much.”

“Good delivery, though. Friendly, direct.” Ainsley nodded. “Clothing is understated. But your hair is nice and shiny.”

Meagan gave him a slow perusal. “I disagree. I like the clothes. I give you a nine point two.”

“Eight point nine.”

The man’s eyes flickered between insult and amusement and a slow smile spread across his mouth. “You both get a ten for originality, and point taken. I’m Dylan.”

Ainsley made the introductions as another guy came over to them. He reached for a chair and Dylan gave a quick shake of his head before he introduced his friend Justin. Instead, Justin held his hand out to Meagan and asked her to dance. She took it, raising her eyebrows at Ainsley as he led her away.

Dylan circled the water mark of a beer bottle on the table. “Would you, uh, like to dance, too?”

Her dancing came with a warning label. “I don’t move very well to choreographed steps.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” he said, raising his eyes and giving her a wicked grin. “I’m a really good teacher.” He led her to the crowded dance floor, staying out of the way of the quickly circling couples, and showed her the basic steps. By the end of the dance, Ainsley remembered most of the moves and had stopped stepping on his feet.

Meagan, however, was a much faster learner, and Ainsley admired her ease on the dance floor. The next song was much of the same, and she became more confident while Dylan twirled her around. However, when the music slowed for the next song, Ainsley held up her hand before Dylan could pull her closer.

“I’m having a really fun time,” she said, “but in the interest of fairness, I think I should tell you that I’m not looking to hook up with anyone tonight.”

“Boyfriend?” Dylan asked.

“Not exactly.”

“So there’s still a chance for me.” He grinned and pressed a light kiss on her knuckles.

“You’re welcome to try,” Ainsley said, laughing. “But I won’t be offended if you want to find some other pretty young thing to take my place.”

In response, Dylan fitted his hands around her waist, molding his hips to hers and swaying to the music. Ainsley resisted the impulse to lay her head on his shoulder. He was nice, but he wasn’t Riley.

When the song ended, the four of them went back to the table. “I hear that there’s a mechanical bull here,” Meagan said with sparkling eyes.

“There is,” Justin said.

“I must try it. You must, too,” she declared to Ainsley.

“No. No way.” Ainsley debated with herself while they followed Meagan to the long line. “Okay. Maybe. What happens if I fall?”

“Don’t worry—the floor is padded. Mostly,” Dylan said.

“And it can’t hurt any worse than riding around on a horse all day,” Meagan said.

“Okay. Where do I sign up?”

That accountant really was an idiot and Riley needed to smooth over his own territorial behavior. He went to her cabin. He went to the stables and the gazebo, but there was no sign of Ainsley or Meagan. Cookie met him on the path to the house and dropped the hint that they might be at Shy Ann’s. The fifteen-mile drive gave him time to decide what to say. He entered the bar and caught sight of Meagan atop the bull, waving someone’s hat in the air and squealing as the machine spun beneath her.

Ainsley stood next to the bull pen, cheering Meagan on, the man beside her resting a casual hand on her back. Frustration at seeing someone else staking a claim to her—again—nearly sent him back out the door. He took a deep breath. She wasn’t leaning into the pre-pubescent guy, nor maintaining eye contact. A streak of possessiveness ran through his body and he strode to the ring. Ainsley mounted the bull before he got there, her lithe body bucking with the movements of the ride, her right arm waving wildly in the air. Right before she fell on her backside.

He rushed to help her, but stopped short when she laughed and took the boy’s hand instead. The women went to a table followed by the boy and another guy. As the boy pushed in her chair, Riley claimed the seat next to her, her vanilla scent a beacon in the smoke-filled room.

Ainsley choked on her beer before regaining her composure. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man.” The guy put a possessive hand on her shoulder and stood between them. “You got a problem? You want to sit with the lady, you ask her, not take her date’s place at the table.”

“Date?” Riley asked him, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Ainsley said, rising. Annoyance heightened her color and made her green eyes fiery. “You are not doing this to me twice in one night. You came here to talk to me, you talk to
me
, not my…” she trailed off and flicked a glance at Dylan.

“Date?” he supplied.

“Don’t try to help.” She turned back to Riley. “Dylan and I are going to dance. You sit down and wait like a good boy. And if you ask me nicely, then maybe I’ll talk to you when I’m done.” She stalked off. Dylan assessed Riley and gave a curt nod before following.

Riley tapped his fingers against his leg until Meagan gave a gentle cough. She hadn’t hid her coming here from Cookie, but why was she hanging around this guy? “This is Justin.”

The two men eyed each other, then nodded. The three of them sat in silence, watching Ainsley and Dylan moving to the music and carrying on an animated conversation. Riley could just guess what the subject was. Meagan couldn’t sit still, crossing her legs one way and then the other, folding her arms, picking at her nails. “You didn’t have to come after us.”