A Cowboy to Marry (14 page)

Still tingling from the tender warmth of his caress, Libby looked in the direction the handsome rancher had gone. “We're just…” she sputtered.

“Falling in love.”

Libby was so startled she practically dropped the blue-cheese dip. “No.”

Emily chuckled. “Deny it all you want.” She set out a fruit platter and yogurt dip, confidence radiating in her low tone. “I know what I see. And don't forget to sign up for your teams on the sheet and put ten dollars into the pot. The winner gets to donate the sum to the charity of his or her choice.”

Her excitement mounting, Libby did as ordered, making sure her picks were the opposite of the ones Holden chose.

And Emily was right, she soon found out. Ribbing Holden, and getting teased in return, garnered a great deal of enjoyment.

Unable to stop smiling, she headed to the kitchen between the first and second games.

Holden was pulling out trays of barbecue and all the fixings from Sonny's Barbecue Restaurant.

She marveled at his multitasking hosting skills. “How can I help?”

“Says the woman who whipped my ego in the first game,” he told her flippantly.

She came closer and taunted him with an impudent smile. “The day is young, or so they're saying out there.”

“They're right.” Holden paused. He favored her with a
sexy half smile, his eyes roving her face. “Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

Libby swallowed at the rough note of possession in his voice. He made her feel beautiful whenever he looked at her like that. She met his too-innocent gaze head-on. “You look mighty fine yourself, cowboy.”

He grinned wickedly. “Come closer and say that.”

Curious, Libby took two steps forward. All the humor left his gaze, replaced by something much more dangerous. She sent him a level look, aware her heart was racing again.

“Holden…your family…”

“I don't care,” he whispered ardently, fitting his lips over hers. “I need you. Need this.”

And so, it turned out, did Libby. Their days and nights apart—had been excruciatingly lonely.

And that pent-up passion came forth in their kiss.

How long it would have continued, had the wolf whistles and clapping not sounded behind them, Libby would never know.

Flushing, she pulled back. Turned to see that they had quite an audience. The McCabes chorused their approval with huge grins.

“And here we thought you were the least romantic among us,” Jeb drawled.

“Clearly, not anymore,” Hank ribbed.

Even Shane McCabe, who usually chose not to weigh in on matters of the heart, smiled. “Looks like congratulations of some sort are in order,” he declared.

 

“S
TOP GLOATING
,” Holden teased hours later, when the games were over and everyone had left.

Thanks to the use of disposable dinnerware, and the
McCabe habit of pitching in, cleanup was left to a minimum. That mostly consisted of straightening a few throw pillows and carrying the bagged trash out to the cans.

“You beating me every single time was merely a matter of beginner's luck.”

“Or,” Libby retorted, enjoying the bantering and camaraderie as much as she loved his kisses, “as your brothers put it, your inability to keep your besotted mind ‘in the ‘game.'”

Holden winked and lifted his hands in a humorous admission of defeat. “I am a little distracted these days.”

No kidding. So was she. “Speaking of which,” Libby chided, still feeling a little embarrassed at the memory of their recent public display of affection, “you didn't have to kiss me like that in front of your family.”

Holden scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “You're right.” He leaned toward her, planting a palm on the counter on either side of her and trapping her there. “I shouldn't have kissed you like that.” He fitted his body to hers, hardness to softness, until she sighed. “I should have kissed you like this.”

The next thing Libby knew she was in his arms. Holden took her lips with a rush of passion, kissing her long and hard and deep. And heaven help them both, she was clinging to him and kissing him back with the same need and intensity.

It had been a mistake thinking she could ever tame or restrict this man with a rebound-romance agreement, Libby thought, when she really had a tiger by the tail.

But maybe it was best this way. To not overthink this. To just feel….

Reveling in the euphoric feelings rushing through her, she let him lift her onto the counter and step between her
spread legs. “Now, where were we?” he teased, palming the weight of her breasts through her knit shirt, easily working her nipples to aching peaks. “Oh, yes, we were talking about what kind of kisses are suitable to give you in front of company.” He kissed her cheek, her chin, the hollow of her throat. “How about these?”

A shallow breath soughed between her lips. “Good,” she murmured back, kissing the strong column of his throat in turn. “All good…”

“How about this?” Holden demonstrated a very potent lip-lock with a lot of heat and pressure.

Libby's heart fluttered in her chest. Body pulsing, straining for more, she wrapped her jean-clad legs around his waist, scooting forward until his arousal pressed against her.

“Very nice, too…” She gasped as he slid his palms beneath her buttocks and pulled her even tighter against him. “But I'm not sure it's the kind of thing that's good for a PDA….”

“You're right.” He swept his tongue into her mouth and kissed her so deeply and rapaciously she moaned. Grinning with masculine satisfaction, Holden slowly ended the kiss. His gaze lovingly roved her upturned face. “We should keep this just for us.”

Holding her masterfully in his arms, he tugged her off the counter and carried her up the stairs to his bed.

He paused to turn the two battery-driven hurricane lanterns on low, infusing the room with a soft, ultraromantic glow. Then he returned to her side and gave her the kind of nothing-held-back kiss she had been wanting all evening. His mouth moved on hers effortlessly, demandingly, until she was lost in the sweet, wild wonder of his embrace.

Murmuring his name, Libby dragged him closer still,
burying both hands in his hair, opening her mouth to his, every feminine inch of her aroused by his unswerving resolve to possess her. Need swept through her, until her nipples budded and her knees weakened treacherously. They undressed each other and she started to sink onto the bed.

Holden, she soon discovered, had other ideas.

Kissing her all the while, he backed her to the wall and positioned her against it. Once there, he looked down at her with such intensity she almost couldn't breathe.

No longer content just to kiss her, he bent his head and moistened the delicate aureole of her breast. Suckled it gently. Then turned to her other breast, delivering the same patient adoration until she trembled, unsure how much she could take.

“Holden…” How was it possible that someone so big and strong and male could have such a tender touch?

“Let me love you, Libby,” he whispered as he replaced his lips with the pads of his thumbs and rose to kiss her again, deeply and erotically, as if she were his and always would be. “The way you were meant to be loved…”

Kneeling in front of her, he gently parted her thighs. Libby closed her eyes and moaned as he found her in the most intimate of caresses. Making lazy circles, moving up, in, out again. Just when she thought she could stand it no more, she quivered with pleasure and catapulted head over heels into bliss….

She'd barely stopped shuddering when he rose and situated himself between her thighs, pausing only long enough to sheathe himself, before kissing her on the mouth, lifting her and parting her, pushing past to the welcoming warmth inside.

They locked eyes and she offered herself to him com
pletely, giving him the kind of access to her heart and soul she had never permitted before.

She knew there were no guarantees in life; the past had taught her that. She knew that the chance to be with Holden like this might be as fleeting as the rebound-romance deal they had initially made with each other.

But if she didn't take advantage of the chance they were being offered, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Christmas came but once a year.

The chance to be loved like this, and love in return, even less frequently.

This man, this moment, were her holiday gift.

And she didn't intend to squander it.

Wanting to draw out the moment as much as possible, she explored his back and hips and thighs with questing caresses that had him arching in passion.

He surged into her, entering and withdrawing in slow, shallow strokes that soon had her moaning for more.

Trembling with her need, she let every part of her adore every part of him. Rocking against him, with him, urging him on until at last she surrendered to a wild, untamed pleasure unlike anything she had ever known.

 

H
OLDEN MADE LOVE TO
L
IBBY
two more gloriously satisfying times before they finally cuddled together, half-asleep.

“Holden?” she asked softly.

He loved the way she felt, so soft and warm and completely feminine. “Hmm?”

She rose slightly and propped her chin on her hand. Looking delicious ravished, yet heartbreakingly vulnerable, she continued, “You know what you said when Emily was teasing us about us being involved?”

He nodded, recalling the “announcement” to his family.

Libby raked her teeth across her lower lip, her uncertainty apparent. “Why did you make it—us—sound so serious?”

Her question was tentative, testing. Holden sensed one wrong move would have her dashing in the other direction. He could feel how wary she was. How unwilling to be hurt.

Determined not to let her shy away again, he said, “They can all see the same thing we can—that our relationship is likely to extend past the holidays.”
Well past, in fact.
“I wanted them to know this was no longer a six-week matchup. That it was more serious than that.”

And if he had his way, Holden thought, cuddling Libby close, they would soon be even more serious….

“Something sure smells good in here,” Holden said on Sunday evening. Someone sure
looked
good, Libby thought as she ushered him inside and took his coat. Instead of the usual jeans and shirt, he wore a pair of wool slacks and a V-necked sweater. His hair was clean and attractively rumpled, his jaw freshly shaved, and he smelled of a woodsy cologne. His handsome face bore the flush of the brisk winter wind.

Grinning in anticipation, Holden closed the distance between them with sensual grace. “My mouth is watering already.”

So was hers. But for a much sexier reason than the dinner she had so lovingly prepared.

Forcing herself to concentrate on the hunger of the man in front of her instead of on where she secretly wanted the evening to lead, she took his hands in hers. Her feminine intuition told her this evening could be a turning point for them. Take them out of rebound territory and into the future. So she wanted everything to go perfectly—which, under the current circumstances, could be a problem. Especially if the way to a man's heart really
was
through his stomach. She tilted her head to one side. “You're not just being polite?” she queried uncertainly, enjoying the way
his fingers immediately tightened around hers. “You really think dinner smells good?”

Still holding her hands possessively, he gave her a lazy once-over. “Yeah. Amazing, actually. Why?”

Her heart rate picking up another notch, Libby shrugged. “My sense of smell has been a little off since I was sick last week. Same for my sense of taste. Things that normally appeal to me, like coffee with cream, don't. In fact, I haven't had a taste for coffee at all since then.” The last time that had happened was during another very difficult time, just under two years ago….

Oblivious to the reason behind her concern, Holden tucked her in the curve of his arm and pressed an affectionate kiss on her temple. “It's probably better for you, not having all that caffeine.”

Libby sighed in relief and leaned into the warm, strong curve of his body. “That's one way to look at it.”

The other was not something she wanted to even consider. Not when her relationship with Holden was starting to go so very well….

Glad they were finally about to have dinner alone, after days of juggling and rescheduling, Libby led Holden past the temporary “children's library” room toward the rear of the house.

She had taken pains to set the table just right—with festive holiday dinnerware, cranberry-red linens, an intricate holly centerpiece and candles.

A vanilla-cream-filled dark chocolate Yule log chilled in the fridge. A hearty, homemade chicken potpie with a sage biscuit crust was keeping warm in the oven.

It felt pleasantly intimate, having him here this way. As if they were a real couple, and not just having a temporary fling.

“So. How was your day?” Libby went back to rinsing the salad greens, which she'd been in the middle of when the doorbell rang.

“Busy.” Holden lounged beside her. “I had a lot to get caught up on at the ranch.” He watched her snap the lid on the salad spinner. “How about you?”

She gave the handle a whirl. “I spent most of the afternoon with Miss Rosa and Miss Mim. We targeted another hundred charitable foundations to approach for help.”

His gaze tracked her movements as she reached up into a cabinet for the champagne vinegar. She felt his gaze on her breasts and ribs as surely as she would have his touch.

“Any luck with the ones so far?”

Admiring the way he looked in her kitchen, so big and sexy and male, Libby got Dijon mustard from the fridge and shut it with her hip. “We've heard back from only about fifteen of the original one hundred thus far.”

He studied her compassionately. “Not good, I'm guessing?”

Trying not to let her frustration bring her down, Libby measured vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper into a bowl. “Apparently, they all have local charities they support.” Which was, she told herself realistically, perhaps the way it should be. For who better to know the most deserving, than people who lived and worked in the community?

He moved slightly to the left as she reached for the tool jar. “Even the ones in Dallas and Houston?”

Emily whisked the ingredients together. “Especially those.” She paused to flash him a resigned smile. “It seems there are no shortage of worthy nonprofits doing good work, in need of funds to survive.”

“You can't get anyone to help you?” he murmured in concern.

“The universal response so far is that this is the Laramie County commissioners' issue. And should be solved by them.” Slowly, she whisked in the olive oil. “We've explained that waiting for that to happen will mean the library will likely be closed well over a year.”

Holden leaned against the counter, arms folded. “Let me guess. Not their problem.”

She affirmed it with a nod. Satisfied the dressing was properly emulsified, she dipped a spoon in and tasted it. Not sure if it was spicy enough, she offered it to him. “What do you think?”

His lips closed over the spoon with sensual reverence. Eyes locked with hers, he savored the taste. “Delicious.”

Libby flushed at the husky, intimate timbre of his low tone, and the desirous look in his eyes. She had the feeling he wanted to forgo dinner and take her to bed. Funny thing was, she wanted that, too….

The buzzer went off.

Jerked from her reverie, Libby went to get the potpie from the oven. Holden gave her plenty of room to maneuver as she moved the piping-hot dish to the trivet on the table.

“So what next?” he continued.

Libby mixed the salad and set the bowl on the table.

She had a few ideas brewing. But she was reluctant to disclose them, for fear they wouldn't work out any better than her idea to appeal to all the existing charitable foundations.

Cautiously, she said, “I'm still working on it. But enough about me and my problems.” She guided him to a chair, feeling glad he was there. “Let's talk about you.”

 

“Y
OU'RE NOT GOING TO TELL
me where you put it, are you?” Holden drawled three hours later.

Libby laughed, a soft, silky sound. Her sea-green eyes sparkling, she admitted, “I figured you'd have more fun finding the mistletoe than just standing under it.”

“Uh-huh.” He let his gaze drift over her, liking the way the trendy skirt and coordinating pine-green sweater gloved her slender form. Lower still, he liked what the black tights and the square-heeled shoes did for her show-girl-sexy legs.

Ignoring the fast-building pressure at the front of his slacks, he countered, “Well, it's not anywhere downstairs.”

A saucy smile tugging at her lips, she planted her hands on her hips. “Are you sure?”

Holden considered kissing her again—without standing beneath the holiday greenery. Deciding it might be more fun to wait, he shrugged. “Unless you anchored it under the sofa…?”

“No.” Coming closer, she regarded him in a deliberately provocative manner. Color flamed in her cheeks. Her breasts rose and fell with every excited breath she took. “It's up high. Tradition, you know.”

The only Christmas tradition he was interested in at the moment was kissing her. Long and slow. Deeply and passionately. And every way in between.

He held her eyes and prodded, “High meaning the second floor?”

Libby winked at him. “I guess we'll just have to see.”

This was a big deal, Holden knew. Prior to this, the only time she had allowed him to go upstairs with her was when she was sick. But now that the Lowell family photo gallery and a lot of other artifacts had been packed away and put in storage, it felt more like her house. And it looked more like her place, too, with fresh flowers and other feminine touches everywhere.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked her quietly. “We could go to my ranch.” The way they usually did when they wanted to make love.

Libby shook her head, looking happy and relaxed. “I want to be in my house tonight. Playing by my rules. So start searching, cowboy.”

Holden liked the mischief in her voice. It was a side of Libby he'd like to see more often. “Okay, then…” he teased back.

He headed up the front staircase, checking every nook and cranny in the high ceiling as he went. Down the hall, to a bedroom he didn't recognize at all. The feminine furniture, the ribbon-bouquet bedding and the flowery, pastel rug on the floor all said Libby.

With satisfaction, Holden noted that she had finally made the changes she should have long before, making this into her life, her house, her domain. Best of all, in front of her bedroom door was a sprig of mistletoe hanging in plain view. He touched the velvet ribbon holding it pinned to the door frame.

“Found one.”

Libby leaned against the portal the way a high-school girl leaned against her locker. Hands folded behind her, she tilted her chin up and taunted softly, “Seems like you owe me a kiss.”

Grinning wickedly, he positioned her beneath the green leaves and white berries and indulged, until she was arching against him.

Curious to see what would happen next, he released her.

Taking her role as seductress seriously, she said, “Keep going.”

Three steps into the bedroom, he found another. Holden kissed her again, the scent of her perfume waltzing through
his system. “Mmm.” He sifted his hands through the silk of her hair. Dropped his lips to the soft skin of her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. “This is fun.”

Libby sighed and wiggled her body sensuously. “You're right,” she murmured, enjoying the chase as much as he was. “And keep looking, 'cause there's one more.”

Holden glanced in the one direction she was avoiding. “Here it is.” Right over her brand-new brass bed with the very sumptuous-looking mattress and linens.

Playfully, she wreathed her arms about his neck and stood on tiptoe to better align their chests and thighs. “Finally,” she whispered, every bit the temptress. “We're right where I want to be….”

Right where Holden wanted to be, too.

He planted one hand at the base of her spine, the other at her nape. His mouth covered hers. Daring to put his feelings on the line, he kissed her, and felt her respond with an immediacy that stunned him. He shuddered as her tongue plunged into his mouth, hotly and passionately. With a soft moan, she threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his lips closer still.

Satisfaction roaring through him, he twined his tongue with hers, drinking in the sweet feminine taste of her lips. She trembled as his hands moved to her breasts, and he realized how much he needed her. And how much she needed him, too.

“Holden…”

He slipped his hands beneath her sweater and cupped the soft weight of her breasts. Her nipples tautened in response, and she swayed against him. His need to be close to her as overwhelming as it was inevitable, he continued kissing her, long and hard and deep. Then soft and slow.
Until the world narrowed to just the two of them once again, and he drew her toward the bed.

They undressed each other slowly, kissing and caressing as they went. All layers of restraint fell away, and Holden drew Libby down between the sheets.

Ever so delicately, he traced her curves, delighting in the way her flesh heated beneath his palms. Bending his head, he caressed her creamy breasts and kissed her peach-colored nipples, sucking and caressing them until her hips rose off the bed to meet him.

“Oh, Holden,” she whispered, clinging tight, “I want you so much.”

“I want you, too, sweetheart.” His own body shaking with the effort to contain his desire, he parted her legs, then rubbed and stroked. She caressed him in turn, bringing him to readiness.

“Now,” she demanded, pushing him onto his back and climbing astride him. He throbbed against her surrendering softness. The connection turned even more reckless. She drew him in lustily even as he found the soft, sensitive spot with his thumb. And then he was going deeper still, filling her to overflowing, as she rocked against him. She moaned and clung to him, kissing him even as she climaxed. He followed, hard and fast, taking everything she offered and giving her everything in return.

Knowing, if they were as smart as he intended them to be, that it would always be this way. He would be hers. She would be his. And together they'd find a way to have a satisfying future.

But for now, Holden thought, it was enough just to lie here with Libby wrapped in his arms, clinging to him, as if she, too, knew this was the way it was meant to be.

 

L
IBBY HITCHED IN A BREATH
, aware that, as always, Holden made her feel so warm and safe. Even when she was trembling and falling apart. And she knew, even if this wasn't the pact they had made, that it was what she wanted. Not just now, but forever. Holden. In her arms. In her bed. Making hers a life worth celebrating to the max.

Knowing that gave her the courage to ask the kind of thing she'd never been brave enough to venture before.

Libby rose up on her elbows.

Affection glowing in his eyes, Holden sifted his fingers through the mussed strands of her hair. “Something on your mind?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “This isn't the way I had planned to do it, but…” Usually, when it came to relationships, she let the man make all the moves, rather than risk rejection.

But she'd gone after what she wanted just now, in the bedroom, and succeeded. So maybe she could do this, too.

Misunderstanding her hesitation, Holden stroked his hands over her hair and teased, “Sweetheart, we can make love any number of ways….”

Libby chuckled. She knew that, too.

“It's not that,” she said.

“Then…?”

She gathered her courage and pushed on. “I want to invite you to the dealership Christmas party next Saturday evening. It's going to be a much bigger fete than usual, and definitely the last one I will ever host. So…”