The Heart Won't Lie Read online

  Michael took a deep breath. “I asked her to read a scene out of my current manuscript.”

  “You did?” Jack beamed at him as if Michael were a star pupil. “That’s great. She will totally love that you asked her to do that. What a way to make points. Well done.”

  “Yeah, but...” Michael settled his hat on his head. “What if she doesn’t like it?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? Is it too bloody? Did you have some bad guys hack up a sweet old grandma or something heinous like that?”

  Michael laughed. “I don’t write about sweet old grandmas getting hacked to bits. You should know that.”

  “You haven’t so far, but there’s always a first time. If you were dumb enough to let her read something like that, no wonder you’re falling off Finicky, here.” He reached over and stroked the horse’s nose.

  “It was a sex scene.”

  “Oh, well, then. You’re in high cotton, my friend. She’ll think she inspired you.”

  “She did.”

  “Then you can’t lose. She’ll feel a part of your creative process and get turned on in the bargain. I don’t know what you’re worried about. That was a brilliant move. If I’d have thought of it, I would have told you to do exactly that.”

  Michael scratched Finicky’s neck. “She said my sex scenes weren’t hot enough.”

  “Really?” Jack cocked his head as if mentally reviewing sex scenes by Jim Ford. “I thought they were fine, but I don’t read your books for that. I like the gunfights.”

  “She likes the sex.”

  “That’s natural, and there’s nothing wrong with making them hotter, especially for your female readers. You might increase your audience that way. You should listen to Keri.”

  “I did, but now I’m worried that she won’t like what I wrote.”

  Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you wrote that scene just fine. I guarantee she’s already read it, so you can’t change the situation now. What’s done is done.”

  Michael nodded. “You have a point.”

  “And this afternoon you want to impress her with your riding abilities, so you need to get back on that horse and think about what you actually did in bed last night, not how you wrote about it later on.”

  Michael tugged his hat brim down. “That’s good advice, Jack. Let’s try this again.” He swung into the saddle.

  “Now you’re talking like a cowboy.” He gave Finicky a whack on his flank, and the horse went back to work cutting cattle.

  Focusing on the sensation of moving effortlessly toward a climax with Keri, Michael began to sense the rhythm of the horse. He couldn’t carry that analogy too far. Keri was not a horse and he was certainly not her rider. But the cooperative effort had some similarities.

  Writing was a mental exercise, and he’d been thinking again. Once he settled back into his physical body, he could let go of the horn and shift his weight with Finicky’s abrupt changes in direction. After a while, it felt like dancing, except he was in the position of follower. That was new, but he’d get used to it.

  And sometime this afternoon, he’d put on a show for Keri. Jack had recommended it, and the more Michael hung out with Jack the more he saw the wisdom of following Jack’s recommendations. The guy knew about horses and women. Michael was more than willing to learn more about both subjects.

  * * *

  AS THE LUNCH hour approached, Keri struggled with logistics. She wanted time alone with Michael, both to tell him how great his scene had been and to satisfy her craving for at least one kiss. Reading that scene had made her want him with a desperation that was alarming.

  After much thought, she could see no solution other than taking Mary Lou into her confidence. They’d made a cowboy favorite—ribs, baked beans and coleslaw. The hands would file in any minute, and Keri needed an ally.

  She checked the simmering beans. They smelled wonderful, as always. Lately Keri’s senses had been more alert than ever in her life. Food smelled amazing and tasted even better. She paid more attention to the birds singing outside the kitchen window. Her skin was more sensitive to touch, and wherever she looked she saw beauty.

  Mary Lou pulled the first pan of ribs out of the commercial oven. “Bring me the platters, Keri. It’s time to get these ready to serve.”

  “You bet.” Keri took the platters out of a bottom cupboard and helped Mary Lou load them. “I have a big favor to ask.”

  “Sure, honey. Name it.”

  Steam from the ribs surrounded them. The kitchen was hot, and tendrils of hair had escaped Keri’s ponytail to curl damply at her neck. Ordinarily she’d be wishing for a cool breeze, but today the fiery need for Michael that burned within her made the external temperature unimportant.

  “I need a moment alone with Michael.”

  Mary Lou chuckled. “I had a feeling he’d be what the favor was about.” She used tongs to load another platter. “How can I help?”

  “When the hands start coming in, I’ll head out into the backyard. If you could tell Michael to come out and find me there, I’d be very grateful. We won’t be long. I won’t leave you in the lurch.”

  “You won’t.” Mary Lou took the last pan of ribs out of the oven. “I’ll get Watkins to help me put out the food. That man will do anything I ask him.”

  Keri moved the filled platter and replaced it with an empty one. “Really? How did you manage that?”

  “It’s very simple.” Mary Lou leaned close to murmur her secret. “Blow jobs.”

  Keri grinned. “You go, Mary Lou.”

  “Don’t tell him I said so.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Keri couldn’t imagine having that conversation with the stocky cowhand under any circumstances, but it was extremely cute that Mary Lou thought she might. “Thanks so much for letting me duck out for a minute.”

  “I’m glad to help. I like seeing two young people in love.”

  “Oh, it’s not love.” The minute she said that, the statement felt false. But she didn’t have time to mentally debate the issue.

  “In lust, then. One can look a lot like the other.”

  “Yes, it can.” Keri didn’t want to get confused about that.

  “I hear them coming in. Go on out back, and I’ll send Michael to find you when I see him.”

  “Thanks, Mary Lou.” Keri squeezed her arm. “You’re the best.”

  Mary Lou winked at her. “That’s what Watkins says, too.”

  Keri walked through a side door and out onto a little deck where Mary Lou often took her morning coffee break. A set of steps led down to the yard, where Mary Lou’s small garden was protected from critters by a chicken-wire fence and bird netting. Keri knew she would miss a great deal about the Last Chance when she ended her employment here, but leaving Mary Lou might be the hardest part of all.

  Her thoughts about her future were a jumbled mess. She wanted to move permanently to Jackson Hole, but she hadn’t decided where to look for a job. The city of Jackson was the logical place to start if she wanted a PR job, but she’d rather stay in a more rural area like this one.

  Oh, well. Her decision to stay was brand-new, and it wasn’t like she was leaving tomorrow. She’d figure it out. But her feelings for Michael complicated things. By remaining here, she’d put a lot of miles between them. If she returned to her old life, they could see each other on weekends.

  Much as she now wanted that, she couldn’t face living the way she had before, not even for the prospect of being closer to Michael. So while she’d worked today, she’d given more thought to what kind of job she could get here that would suit her training. One possibility would be perfect. But she didn’t know if Bethany Grace needed a personal assistant.

  The self-help author, who was currently honeymooning with her new husband, Nash Bledsoe, would eventually
return and set up housekeeping with Nash on the Triple G, a small ranch next door to the Last Chance. In addition to her writing career, Bethany planned to host retreats for burned-out CEOs.

  Nash would give riding lessons and lead trail rides for those who wanted that experience, and Bethany would conduct mini-seminars on living a balanced life. Keri could manage Bethany’s schedule and provide some PR for the retreat venture. But until Bethany and Nash came home, she couldn’t find out if her idea was viable or not. Bethany might already have someone in mind for that job. Keri decided to ask Jack and see what he knew.

  The back door opened and she turned as Michael walked out. He looked more like a broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboy every day. Even the tilt of his Stetson seemed more authentic.

  He smiled, crossed the deck in two strides and bounded down the steps.

  She hurried over to meet him. Wasting no time, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him so enthusiastically he lost his hat. He didn’t seem to care. With a moan, he pulled her close and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  She couldn’t seem to get close enough. Burrowing against him, she felt the rapid beat of his heart and the ridge of his cock. His breathing roughened and he cupped her bottom to press her tighter against his fly.

  Erotic visions flashed through her mind. Maybe, in the shadow of the trees, they could...no. She’d promised Mary Lou she wouldn’t be out here long.

  I like to see young people in love.

  Mary Lou’s words came back to her. But this was lust. This deep craving was about sex. Maybe, given enough time together, they’d—

  Michael lifted his mouth a fraction but held her firmly in place. His breath was warm on her kiss-moistened lips. “Let’s skip lunch.”

  “I can’t.”

  He groaned. “Damn. Guess I should be grateful for what I have, huh? One more kiss. Then we’ll go in and—”

  “Wait.” She pressed her finger against his mouth. “I need to say something, first. Your scene is wonderful.”

  He drew back to look into her eyes. “It is?”

  She nodded. “Women readers are going to love it. I loved it. Reading it made me hot.”

  The corners of his mouth tilted up. “I seduced you with a few paragraphs of my deathless prose?”

  “Yeah, you sure did.”

  “If this is your response, I’ll cancel my riding lessons and head back to the computer. Jack claims you’ll be turned on by watching me penning steers on Finicky this afternoon, but obviously he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “You want me to watch you ride?”

  “Not anymore. Writing a sex scene is a hell of a lot easier for me than trying to stay in the saddle of a cutting horse.” He nudged her gently with his hips. “And apparently the writing works just fine.”

  “But I want to watch you ride.”

  “No, you don’t. If I look like a fool, then I’ll lose all the ground I gained with that sex scene. Instead of watching me ride, go read that file again.”

  He sure could make her smile. She noticed that his eyes always seemed more blue than gray when he was teasing her. The longer she held his gaze the more she wanted to stay right here, tucked against his warm body. She plain liked being with him.

  He took a deep breath. “You need to get back inside.”

  “We both do. You have to eat lunch so you’ll be fueled up for your cutting horse demonstration.”

  “Let’s forget about that. It was all Jack’s idea, not mine.”

  “I want to watch. Tell me what time.”

  “He mentioned four o’clock, but—”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’d rather have you in my room, reading that scene. I look much better on paper.”

  “You look good no matter what you’re doing.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Thanks. You, too. We seem to have a mutual admiration society going.”

  “Seems like it.”

  He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice had lost every trace of teasing. “Maybe we should talk about that.”

  She’d meant to lead up to this subject, not drop it like a bombshell, but instead she blurted it out with no finesse whatsoever. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m moving here. Permanently.”

  Shock registered in his expression. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that is good to know.” The warm light had left his eyes. “Well, let’s get back, so we don’t cause any problems.” He released her and picked up his hat from the grass.

  “Michael, what we’ve shared has been...is important to me.”

  “I know.” His wry smile tore at her heart. “For me, too. But life goes on, doesn’t it?”

  13

  MICHAEL THOUGHT HE’D done a pretty good job of acting normal at lunch, but Jack had spent enough time with him to figure out something wasn’t right. He started asking questions as they walked down to the barn after the meal was over.

  “You had a chance to talk to Keri before lunch, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you ask her to come down around four and watch the team penning?”

  “I told her about it.” Michael kept walking. He felt like a first-class fool for thinking he and Keri were building a relationship that had potential. When she’d announced she was leaving her job here, he’d assumed she’d go home to Baltimore where she’d be a short train ride away. Apparently she’d changed her plans.

  “Is she coming or not?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “You’re mighty sparse with the info, buddy. What’s up?”

  Michael glanced at him. Keri had said she was moving here permanently, but she hadn’t said whether she planned to keep working as a housekeeper at the Last Chance. Even if she had said that, he wasn’t the person to tell Jack about it. “Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “She didn’t like your sex scene?”

  “Oh, no. She loved it. You were right about that. She appreciated being asked to read it and as a result of reading it, she was turned on.”

  “Excellent! So what’s the problem? When Mary Lou sent you out to find Keri you were riding high. Happy didn’t even begin to describe the expression on your face. Now you look as if you just finished watching Old Yeller.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Me, too. Finicky likes you a lot better when you’re cheerful.”

  That made him chuckle, in spite of himself. “I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of Finicky, that’s for damned sure.”

  “I didn’t think so. No matter what sort of misunderstanding took place out behind the house, you want Finicky to be in a good mood, so put on your happy face, little buckaroo.”

  Michael sighed. “Jack, did anybody ever tell you that you’re a royal pain in the ass?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “Well, I’m telling you again.”

  “Duly noted.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “I have an idea. Before we go back out to the corral, let’s muck us out a few stalls. You will be amazed at how that improves a fellow’s disposition. I’ve been remiss in not introducing you to that particular type of therapy.”

  “Is that what you call it? Therapy?”

  “I do, and I’m not the only one. You ask any cowboy how he works through his problems, and he’ll give you one of four answers. He rides like hell, gets drunk, picks a fight or shovels shit. Since we’re not going to run any of our horses in the middle of a hot day, and I’m not prepared to get you plastered or fight with you, that leaves us with mucking out stalls.”

  Michael considered that option. It sounded pretty good, actually. Something sweat
y and mindless. “How do you know there are stalls to be mucked out? Maybe the other guys have taken care of it already.”

  “My friend, when you own as many horses as we do, there will always be mucking to be done. Horses eat an uncommon amount of food and horses poop an uncommon amount of shit. The opportunity for that type of therapy never ends.”

  “Then lead me to it.”

  * * *

  AROUND THREE-FORTY-FIVE, Keri walked down to the barn and the corrals. She felt terrible about the abrupt way she’d informed Michael about her recent decision to stay in Wyoming. When he implied that they needed to discuss their future, she could have agreed with him and then waited until they had more time together before hitting him with her revised plans.

  Of course, if she’d told him sooner, instead of reveling in great sex and pushing that other issue aside, he’d never have made that comment in the first place. She wondered how much would have changed between them if she’d laid out her future plans earlier, as she’d intended to.

  Michael probably would have wanted to continue having sex. Guys seldom turned down that option if they were attracted to the woman in question. But he might not have been so open with her, and he might not have asked her to read the sex scene. Maybe he wouldn’t have written it in the first place.

  In her heart of hearts, she believed he’d created that scene for her, as a present. She’d asked for something, and he’d decided to grant her request. If that hadn’t been his motivation, why show it to her? It definitely had been offered in the spirit of a gift.

  Her heart ached when she remembered how his eyes had dulled when he’d heard her news. She didn’t think he’d reached the stage of wanting a commitment, but no doubt he’d hoped they could continue what was obviously working out well for both of them. He might have had a hazy idea that it could develop into something serious eventually.

  Her timing had been terrible, just terrible. First she’d kissed him as if she couldn’t imagine life without him, and then, when he’d naturally followed up on that enthusiasm with a rational statement about what might come next, she’d shot him down. Talk about mixed messages.

  She would apologize once she had a chance, but that wouldn’t fix anything. The damage had been done, and she’d been the one responsible. If he wanted to end their relationship now and save himself potential heartache, she wouldn’t blame him.