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  “Who?” Denny stood and glanced around. “What real man? All I see is a broken-down, bandy-legged cowpoke making way too much noise.”

  Bill grinned. “Yeah, and all I see is a sad-looking saddle tramp who’ll be mucking out stalls while yours truly is taking a bite out of the Big Apple. Isn’t that right, Meg?”

  “My lips are sealed until tonight.” But she thought both Bill and Denny would end up making the top three. Bill had a little too much swagger to suit her, but his blond good looks would play well on camera, and he did great things for a pair of jeans.

  “Come on over and sit down, Bill,” she said. “And tell me all about yourself. And thanks, Denny.”

  “My pleasure.” Denny left, giving Bill a good-natured punch on the arm on his way out.

  Meg settled in for her next interview. But all through it, and the six that followed, she thought about Clint, the perfect candidate. She had to talk him into it.

  Then, after the last contestant had left, and she was headed to her bathroom to take a shower, inspiration hit. She ran for her cell phone and dialed Sharon, catching her out having a drink with some girlfriends.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.” Meg had to raise her voice so that her executive producer could hear inside the noisy bar. “But I need permission to add something to the contest.”

  “Like what?”

  “In case I come across a situation when I can’t narrow the field to three, I want permission to add a fourth. I’ll only do it once, and he’ll be called Meg’s Pick. Can I do that?”

  “Sure, why not?” Sharon sounded in a good mood, as if the ratings news had been good.

  “Thanks. Talk to you later!” Meg hung up feeling as if she’d saved the day. Clint wouldn’t have to compete, wouldn’t have to be a stallion forced into parading around a ring with ribbons in his mane. He could simply become Meg’s Pick. How much easier could it be than that?

  CLINT WALKED BACK into the house at five. The living room was empty, and the only noise came from the shower in the second bathroom. He didn’t have to think very hard about who was in there.

  He’d known they would likely end up alone in the house again, probably tonight after the shindig at the Steak Out. After three hours of riding across the foothills of the Mustang Mountains, he still didn’t know the best way to handle whatever time he had left with Meg. Part of the answer was up to her, of course, but if she asked for more of what they’d had the night before, could he handle that?

  He wanted her desperately, and that scared him. One more night in her arms would probably make him feel worse when she left. And they continued to run the risk that someone would find out.

  But as he stood listening to the shower run, knowing she was in there naked, he realized he wasn’t strong enough to turn her down. If she wanted to crawl into his bed again tonight, he’d welcome her there and deal with the consequences later.

  For now, he’d head for his own shower. With only an hour before they had to be at the Steak Out, he’d be a fool to go into that guest bathroom. But how he wanted to. How he wished that he could shuck his clothes, step into that tub with her and do what he’d been thinking about all day.

  Instead he walked into his bedroom, peeling off clothes as he went. Damn, he was hard already from the knowledge that the only thing separating his naked body from hers was willpower. He was running low on willpower.

  But he forced himself to climb into his shower. The shower head still dangled free, and he reattached it to the bracket before turning on the water. The pulsing jets came on, and he twisted the outer ring until he had a fine spray again.

  Tough guys with an erection were supposed to take cold showers. At least that’s what he’d heard. He hated cold showers, so he reached for the soap and tried to ignore his very stiff buddy.

  Instead of the soap, he touched the condom packet he’d laid there the night before and never used. With a snort of frustration, he threw the packet out onto the bath mat. Now he was harder still.

  Hell, this was no way to take a shower, with one very sensitive part of him sticking out like a riding crop. He had an option, but he hesitated to take it. He hadn’t locked his bedroom door, and he couldn’t be positive that she’d have sense enough to stay in her part of the house until they were safely on their way to the Steak Out.

  However, with the pressure he felt down below he could finish himself off in no time. And if he didn’t do something to remedy the situation, he wouldn’t be able to get his jeans buttoned. He gave up and took a firm grip on the problem.

  “Clint?”

  His hand stilled. She sounded as if she might be standing right outside the shower. “Uh, yeah?” Life didn’t get much crazier than this.

  “I came out of the bathroom and heard your shower going.”

  He took a breath and tried to forget about orgasms. “I needed to get cleaned up for tonight.”

  “Me, too. But I…had an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can’t speak for you, but I’m feeling a little bit on edge.”

  You want to talk about feeling on edge? Try teetering on the brink of a climax while trying to carry on a normal conversation.

  “So I wondered if you might be in the same fix.”

  He swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Well, I found this.” The condom packet came sailing back into the shower and landed at his feet. He turned to find her standing at the entrance to the shower, her hair slicked back from her face and not a stitch on.

  Her glance moved downward and she smiled. “It’s nice to know I’m in good company.” Then she joined him in the shower.

  11

  ALTHOUGH THEY HAD no time to waste, Meg cautioned herself to let Clint make the next move. His body was doing plenty of talking, but he hadn’t said a thing out loud. If he told her this was a bad idea, she’d accept that and leave the shower.

  She hoped he wouldn’t. Being in this shower aroused her like an intimate caress, and she trembled with longing. The familiar scent of soap and desire stirred memories of a fabulous orgasm. The rush of water had become a sexual signal, as had the smooth tiles beneath her bare feet and the riot of colorful flowers painted on the clay.

  He held her gaze. “We can’t forget the time. People will get suspicious.”

  “I won’t forget the time.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “This won’t take long…for either of us.”

  He was breathing hard, staring at her with heat in his eyes. “So you want efficiency.”

  “Something like that.”

  “All right.” He broke eye contact long enough to reach for the condom packet at his feet. Then he pinned her with his gaze, not bothering to look at what he was doing as he tore open the packet and rolled on the condom. Now that was talent.

  Then he grasped her hips, his grip firm with purpose as he backed her up against the wall. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Looking deep into his eyes, she rested her hands on his shoulders as if they were about to execute a complicated Latin dance step. His skin was wet and warm. She loved feeling his muscles move as he tightened his hold on her hips.

  “When I lift you, put your legs around my waist.”

  She nodded, her heart beating furiously, her body aching and quivering with anticipation. Then he picked her up, and in one fluid motion she wrapped her legs around him. At nearly the same moment he slid smoothly inside her.

  Oh, yes. She vibrated with pleasure, and a soft hum of delight rose from her throat.

  His pupils dilated until his eyes were more black than blue, and his voice shook with emotion. “I’ve thought about this all day.” He adjusted his stance, which allowed him to probe even deeper.

  “Me…too. Oh, that’s good.”

  “Meg, you turn me inside out.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. Now hang on.”

  She tightened her grip on his shoulders. “I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, y
ou are. I’ve never felt so welcomed.” His fingers flexed against her bottom as he began to thrust, slowly at first, then faster.

  Propped against the hard tile, she became pliable dough he kneaded and shaped into the perfect receptacle for the rhythmic motion of his penis. Her body responded to each stroke with another layer of delicious pressure. Soon. Very soon.

  His breath came in ragged gasps. “Close?”

  “Yes.” She began to pant. “Oh, yes…now…now!” She bucked in his arms as a climax overtook her.

  With a groan he pushed home and closed his eyes. Then he held on tight as his body shook and he gulped for air.

  At last his body stilled and he opened his eyes. “Incredible,” he murmured.

  “I know.”

  “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  She struggled for breath so she could speak. “About that…we need to talk.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “No, we don’t. I didn’t mean that to sound like I expected more.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I—”

  “Let’s get dressed.” He kissed her lightly again. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Maybe she should postpone what she had to say. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to rush through. “Okay, we’ll get dressed. We can talk later on tonight.”

  He smiled. “Sure you want to waste time talking?”

  She started to tell him it wouldn’t be a waste, that their discussion could change their lives. But now wasn’t the time. “I promise not to waste a single minute of being alone with you,” she said.

  “That’s all I ask.”

  BY SOME MIRACLE Clint and Meg left the house and climbed into his pickup truck at ten minutes before six. She’d insisted on returning his hat, so he wore it and she went bareheaded. The hat smelled of her hair spray, and ordinarily he’d be ticked off about that, but she had the power to do just about anything and get away with it.

  But now that they were in the truck and on their way, he was worried that she’d use this time to get into her “discussion.” He had a good idea how that would go. First she’d tell him how much this time together had meant to her. He believed it had meant quite a bit, so that was fine.

  She wouldn’t be able to leave it at that, though. Eventually she’d begin to apologize because she couldn’t keep seeing him, and to hear her laying out all the reasons would depress the hell out of him. Intellectually he understood the problems. If his heart didn’t get any of it, too bad. He’d deal. She didn’t have to rub his nose in it, though.

  “This is perfect,” she said as they started down the dirt road to the highway. “My stay wouldn’t be complete without a ride in a pickup.”

  “This isn’t just any pickup, either,” he said, switching on the headlights. “Allow me to introduce Esmerelda.”

  “Really?” She laughed. “I’m glad to meet you, Esmerelda. I’m dying to know how you got your name. One of Clint’s old girlfriends?”

  “I wish I’d had a girlfriend as reliable as Esmerelda. It’s a Greek name that means emerald. This truck’s green and she’s a gem.”

  “That’s wonderful. I love it.” She hesitated. “I don’t suppose…”

  He could predict what was coming.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me use that in tomorrow’s broadcast?”

  Yep, just what he’d expected. He glanced at her. “I don’t suppose I would. Low profile, remember?”

  She sighed. “I remember. But I don’t see how talking about your truck would be such a big problem. I don’t have to say it’s your truck.”

  “Everyone around here would know, anyway.”

  “So why not let me talk about it? I don’t understand why it would bother you.”

  In some ways he was closer to her than to any woman he’d known. In other ways they were oceans apart. “That’s because you’re used to having lots of people know what’s going on in your life. I’m not. To me it would feel like an invasion of privacy.” He changed the subject, determined to steer the conversation away from any unwelcome topics. “Have you decided on the three finalists?”

  “Yes, and I don’t know if I can stand seeing the faces of the guys who aren’t chosen. Between now and the time I end this trip in Wyoming, I need to toughen up.”

  Although he was touched that she cared that much, he thought her concern was unnecessary. “You don’t have to worry about cowboys, Meg. They’ve competed in roping and riding events ever since they were kids. They can handle rejection.” And so can I, so don’t think you have to mollycoddle me.

  “I’m sure they can, but this might be different than going for a trophy or a cash prize. Besides the cash award, this is a chance to be on national TV.”

  “Trust me, although they’d be thrilled to make it, TV isn’t their life the way it is yours. They won’t react like you would if you lost a chance like this.”

  “You don’t think any of them want a shot at doing something else?”

  Clint waited for one lone vehicle to pass before turning onto the paved two-lane highway. “Nope. They just want something to brag about to their grandkids.” He gestured toward the darkening landscape, where rolling hills gave way to the jagged silhouette of the Santa Ritas on the far side of the valley. Pinpricks of light were just beginning to flicker in the navy sky. “See that?”

  “See what? It’s all dark out there.”

  “Exactly. Only a few lights from ranch houses scattered here and there, which means lots of open space, the exact opposite of a big city. We all live here because we crave room to roam around.”

  “But don’t you get bored? There’s not even a movie theater.”

  “I guess it’s all in what you get used to. You’re used to living at top speed, keeping yourself entertained all the time. Out here things go a lot slower. We watch sunsets. We take long horseback rides. We sit around the fire and talk. Or not talk. There’s a whole lot of silence out here in the country, and that’s how we like it.”

  But even as he described his idyllic picture of Sonoita, he admitted it was more of a sentimental memory than a promise of what was ahead for this area. The sprinkling of lights on the landscape had become more dense just in the past year. Not so long ago none of the streets had been named, but now they all had some kind of designation so they could have 911 emergency response.

  “I have to admit I haven’t missed the sirens,” she said.

  “But you’ve missed the excitement of the city?”

  She laughed. “No, not with you around. You’re Bloomie’s, Saks and Late Show with David Letterman all rolled into one.”

  He put on his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the Steak Out. The place was packed, which didn’t surprise him. “That’s probably because I’m new and exotic. Another few days with me and you’d discover all my bad habits.”

  “Like what?” She made no move to unlatch her seat belt and get out.

  He shut off the motor and turned to her. “Oh, the usual. I squeeze the toothpaste in the middle and leave the coffee grounds in the pot for hours. I sing off-key and hog the covers and cut articles out of the Sunday paper before anybody else has read it. Stuff like that.”

  “Sounds kind of nice.”

  “Then you must have lived with some real losers. The dirty-underwear-on-the-floor and greasy-dishes-in-the-sink category of guys.”

  “I’ve never lived with a guy,” she said softly.

  “Never? I thought that was what everyone did in the big city. I know what you said about your recent situation, but before that—”

  “Before that I was so busy climbing up the ladder I didn’t have the time or patience for a full-time relationship.” In the pale light filtering into the cab from the restaurant windows, her expression grew wistful. “I’ve told myself I didn’t need that, at least not until I’ve secured my spot.”

  “And you’re probably right. Sex is one thing, but you don’t need somebody hanging around all the time, mangling y
our toothpaste tube.”

  “You know what one of my favorite parts of this trip has been so far?”

  The conversation was getting dangerously intimate, but he didn’t know how to sidetrack it without sounding as nervous as he felt. “Let me guess. Something to do with my latest home improvement project, aka the shower.” He didn’t think she meant anything sexual, but he would try and make a joke, anyway.

  “You have an awesome shower, and I’ve loved every minute of getting naked with you, but do you remember when I first arrived, and we sat out on the porch?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” He remembered every waking second with her.

  “Nobody sits on porches where I live, obviously. If anyone had told me it was fun to sit on the porch and stare out at a whole lot of nothing, I would have laughed. But I keep coming back to that porch thing. While we sat there talking, I felt…relaxed. I’m thinking it might have something to do with staring at nothing.”

  “Could be.” His chest felt tight. She was beginning to fall in love with the wide-open spaces, but she wouldn’t have the time or luxury to complete the process. They would never know if she might eventually get hooked on staring at nothing. But knowing that she might, if given a chance, filled him with regret. “Listen, we should go in. I’m sure everyone is impatiently waiting for the honored guest.”

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Let’s have a signal for when one of us is ready to leave.”

  “Okay.” He would be ready five minutes after they walked in the door.

  “How about scratching our noses? If either of us scratches our nose, that means we want to go. But if it’s bad timing for the other one, the opposite signal is running your tongue over your lower lip.”

  “That’s no good.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you run your tongue over your lower lip, I’m going to want to rip your clothes off.”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “Okay, then how about eyebrow lifting? Will that get you hot?”

  “Watching you walk across the room gets me hot.”

  “Yeah?” She sounded delighted with the news.