Tempted by a Cowboy Read online

  “That’s for damn sure! Made that pie myself, just this morning!” the heavyset fellow at the grill called out.

  The guy smiled lazily. “How ’bout you give me the biggest piece you’ve got left? Warmed up, with a scoop of ice cream.”

  “You got it, hon. Comin’ right up.”

  As Gladys bustled away, Diana glanced sideways at the owner of that velvety voice. He wore a striped western-cut shirt so old it was nearly transparent, and so wet it clung to his muscles like white glue. His jaw rippled with an alluring masculine shadow her fingers itched to caress. Those lips made her hungry…and she suddenly wanted to be the first bite of the pie, sweet and spicy, that made him smile.

  Forget about that! And stop staring!

  Diana peeled the wrapper from her straw very slowly. The hands at the end of those wet shirtsleeves cradled a coffee mug…long, strong fingers with skin several shades darker than her own. Fingernails clipped short. No rings.

  Enough already! Take your Coke and go!

  Her peripheral gaze traveled upward to take in his long midnight hair, tied loosely at his nape with a leather thong. Something about the flex of his neck muscles sent her temperature through the roof…made her clench where her weight met the stool top.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” he crooned when Gladys topped off his coffee. He sounded…nice. Like the waitress was his grandmother, even though her platinum hair and pale skin had nothing in common with his Native American palette. Gladys must’ve thought he was nice, too, because after she slid the slice of steaming pie in front of him, she dipped out two generous scoops of vanilla ice cream.

  God, that looks good. Diana’s stomach rumbled as his fork parted the pastry. Peach goop oozed onto his plate. She’d been too antsy to eat breakfast, and an hour in the bank president’s office had tied her insides in knots. But now…now she could use a good, solid—

  “Want some?”

  Diana’s eyes widened behind her shades. What she wanted had nothing to do with food—and you’ve got no business thinking about sex when—

  The guy’s lips quirked as he looked at her straight on. He was maybe thirty. Had the same down-and-out air about him she was feeling these days, yet he exuded a cool, calm control. Smooth, smooth skin the color of coppery walnut. He held the bite of pie up for her, awaiting her reply.

  Diana sucked hard on her straw and then went into a panic of strangling. Soda spewed all over the counter and she couldn’t stop coughing or control the spasms that racked her shoulders—couldn’t get any air past the fizzy clot of liquid in her windpipe—

  “Easy now. Just relax. Stop struggling.”

  His voice was a silken purr, patient enough to gentle the wildest, most frightened mare. As his ebony eyes drank her in, Diana felt so, so humiliated and stupid. Another sip from her Coke didn’t help, and when her next round of coughing kicked up, the tall, dark stranger laid a hand on her back. He placed the other palm lightly against her throat, gazing directly at her.

  “Breathe in through your nose and hold it. Gently.”

  Diana fought the urge to struggle, or to run. Everyone in the cafe was surely watching this lunch-counter drama, but all she could focus on was the overtly handsome face in front of her…black eyes that didn’t waver…the lips that parted slightly as he softly massaged her throat. His palms felt warm and soothing. A strand of wet, black hair fell beside his eye as he held her loosely—yet with total control—between the flats of his hands.

  She did as he said, once her frenetic thoughts allowed his words to sink in. Diana relaxed…didn’t swallow or fight. Just held her breath and sat very, very still, to allow the stray cola to drain down her throat on its own.

  And then it did.

  Diana swallowed tentatively. Opened her mouth to thank him—

  “Don’t talk yet,” he whispered.

  If he was some magical, mystical witch doctor, he was a very, very good one. He knew all the right silences, all the right pauses…the perfect touch that allowed his pulse to throb lightly against her throat, where her own pulse answered it and then went into his rhythm.

  She let out her breath. “Thank you,” she rasped. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dessert.”

  “Not to worry. Nothing comes between me and my…pie.”

  Diana desperately wished she were the ice cream melting on his plate, being spooned up—

  Like he’d want a worn-down woman who resembles a drowned mouse.

  Exhaling carefully, Diana focused on the white plastic lid of her cup. Once again she was aware of the clinking of utensils against plates…the low chatter of voices, mostly male…the hisssss of meat on the griddle and the heavy scents of hamburger and bacon grease. Her wet clothes clung to her, yet she felt anything but cold.

  The guy beside her might as well have been making love to that slice of pie. His eyes closed with utter enjoyment as he savored each bite. Long, dark lashes fluttered on the tops of his high cheekbones. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple throbbed suggestively, which sent another wave of heat below Diana’s belt.

  This was insane, to pay so much attention to some stranger—especially considering the real issues she was dealing with today! Yet she squirmed; felt tingly when his elbow brushed hers as he dug out his billfold. He tossed a couple dollars on the counter and reached beneath the counter for a black broad-brimmed hat. With a quick nod at her, he rose from his stool.

  Diana tried not to gawk as he sauntered toward the cash register at the door. His soaked, faded jeans fit his hips like skin…showed off legs that went on forever, to end in square-toed boots that looked saturated. His black hair hung in a thick, wet column down his back—far too blatant to be considered masculine in this town. Yet not a man in the cafe would’ve challenged his sexual preference, and none of the women would’ve kicked him out of bed, either.

  Where are these thoughts coming from? They’re going nowhere, that’s for sure! With a sigh, Diana followed his backside out the door, where the rain still fell in torrents. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully, and she remembered again why she’d come here…and how hanging around would only give somebody a chance to pick at her emotional scabs. They knew her mostly because Garrison had come in for coffee on his way to the farm supply store or the gas station—but that hadn’t happened for nearly a year. Maybe they’d let her alone. Maybe her mood remained dark enough to ward off any would-be pity pushers, and that suited her just fine.

  She drained her cup and slid off the stool. Dug a wad of bills from her front pocket as she approached the cash register, but then Gladys jammed her ticket down the metal spindle without punching any numbers.

  “Your boyfriend picked up your tab,” the waitress announced. “Have a nice day now.”

  2

  Diana’s jaw dropped. Gladys hurried away to bus a booth on the outer wall, leaving her to wonder how many folks had heard that triumphant tight-lipped remark. The last thing she needed were rumors about a boyfriend in the wake of Garrison’s passing—especially with the bank board breathing down her neck about the back payments she owed on the ranch.

  But when she opened the door, there he stood. The cowboy glanced her way nonchalantly, waiting beneath the awning. He gave her a sexy, sexy smile ripe with promise—and then a suave nod—before he strode back out into the downpour.

  Diana gawked after him. “Hey—hey, thank you!”

  Mr. Mysterious glanced back and tipped his black hat, but kept walking.

  When he was past the line of parked cars, her senses returned and she didn’t give a damn who heard her. “Where’s your car? Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

  He stopped, silent as an ancient totem in the pouring rain, watching her with those dark eyes.

  Had she insulted the man, assuming he’d need a lift? Diana’s hand plunged into her pocket for her car keys as her gaze remained fixed on him, immovable and permanent like a post in the parking lot.

  Must be a nutcase, to stand out there in the rain, she thought as she
opened her car door and dove inside. Yet she recalled his patient way with Gladys…his light, effective touch on both sides of her neck when she was choking—

  And there was nothing nutty about that, was there? You were so damn hot you nearly melted into a puddle on the floor.

  She cranked the key and waited for the engine to catch. Pulled out carefully, straight back, so she wouldn’t hit him—and then there he was, leaning down to peer through the passenger-side window. Diana fell sideways to yank on the handle. “Get in here! You’re getting soaked!”

  With a single fluid movement he swung low and into the seat beside her. He closed the door with a solid whump. And then it was the two of them in her very small, steamed-up car, separated only by the console. Diana had never felt more at risk in her life—not from a man who’d do her harm, but from a predator of a different sort…a sensual, slithering, sinewy male whose intent shone hard in his obsidian eyes beneath his dripping black hat.

  “Can…can I give you a ride?” she asked again.

  His slow smile made her replay that line and hear it for the come-on he took it for. Damn. She’d left herself wide open—and suddenly envisioned herself open beneath his solid male body as he entered her with a long, hard—

  She exhaled. Couldn’t drop her gaze, and he wouldn’t, either. So damn sure of himself, this one was—but then, why wouldn’t he be? He was young and hot and powerful—

  And you, dear, are old enough to be his mom. Or you surely must look like it. You certainly feel like it…and it’s been so long since you had a man you might not know what to do with him.

  Diana nipped her lip. Tried not to cry, because damn it, over this past year she’d cried a deluge like the one that pounded the roof of her car.

  “My truck conked out down the road. Walked into town looking for a repair shop. Got in out of the rain when I didn’t find one. Found you instead.”

  His voice coiled around her insides and squeezed. Her breath came out as a pant despite her attempt at decorum. He’d paid for her Coke. She’d politely—with chaste intention—offered him a ride. He’d gotten in out of the rain. That’s all this was.

  The heat between them made parts of her flare and smoke. The inseam of her jeans cut into her as her nipples fought her bra…the raggedy-ass bra that matches your cotton panties with the worn-out elastic. You can’t let him see that—can’t let him—

  She snickered. This tall, dark and arrogant cowboy with the ebony hair plastered to his back wasn’t the sort to ask permission. Like she had any more control over what he thought or did than she had over her own wayward body parts right now.

  “What’re you thinking?”

  Diana’s jaw dropped and she frantically thought up a lie. “I…can’t help but wonder why you’d come into this town looking for a repair place, when everybody knows—”

  His lips quirked. “It’s not like I chose where to break down.”

  Her face flared ten shades of red. “I—that sounded really dumb, to insinuate—”

  “You weren’t giving me a straight answer.” He shifted closer, his obsidian eyes burning with dark fire. “If you’d told the truth, you wouldn’t be blushing. But then, I like your face with more color. What I can see of it.”

  Diana’s breath caught as his hands framed her face to remove her oversize sunglasses. The air thickened. She became very aware that she was sitting in the middle of the parking lot with her engine running, where anybody in the cafe could see this man was taking off her—

  Taking off your clothes. What happens then?

  Her eyes widened with the thought, and again the ruddy young stud in her passenger seat smiled. This time his entire mouth curved…lush lips carved into a face of mahogany granite, framed by wet strands of inky black hair her fingers longed to loosen.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “You wear your sorrow like a shawl, and I want to peel it away to find the strong, independent woman who waits for me inside.”

  “I—you can’t mean that! I look like a train wreck—”

  One long, calloused finger silenced her. “Never a good idea to squawk at a man who’s complimenting you.”

  “But I’m old enough to be your—”

  “Age is a relative thing.”

  “Mother! Or at least your aunt!” she spouted. “And when I asked if you wanted a ride, you know damn well I wasn’t talking about—”

  “You don’t want to take me to a repair shop any more than I want to go there, sweetheart.” His voice sounded husky now. His chest rose and fell beneath the shirt that clung to the darker skin beneath its thin old cotton.

  She swallowed hard. Gathered her scattered thoughts. “How can you sit here in my car and insinuate—”

  “You invited me.”

  Her mouth clapped shut. This desperado had an answer for everything, and he was so damn sure of himself…

  Who’s the desperado? And who’s two steps ahead of him, far as the wants and needs he’s talking about?

  Diana let her breath seep out. Any minute someone would come out of the cafe to see if she was having trouble. And she was. Trouble of the randiest, dandiest kind. Trouble in the form of temptation like she’d never known—even though she was alone now, and it wasn’t cheating.

  Was it?

  “What’s your story?” he asked quietly. “Why the shades hiding the red eyes? Why duck into a greasy spoon where you’re bound to know folks, without so much as nodding at any of them?”

  Her lips parted but the words fled. Just a moment ago she’d seen herself naked beneath this hot young man with the long legs and broad chest, and now her mind returned to the bank: Jerry Pohlsen and his insidious plan for the ranch…the house that would echo when she walked in…the home she was about to lose, mere months after she’d lost the man who’d built it. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yeah, I do. You’ve got a helluva lot more going wrong than a broken-down truck.” He tucked her sunglasses into her shirt pocket…made her squirm when his fingers flirted with the outline of her breast. Her chest thrust out of its own accord.

  His breath whistled between his teeth…teeth that looked strong and white against his russet skin. She suddenly wanted those teeth to tease her nipples until they stuck out hard and solid as he sucked them—

  Diana gasped and looked away, but the dark stranger placed his hand alongside her face. His pulse raced with hers as he brought his face within inches of hers…within kissing distance. His gaze dropped to her lips and then returned to her eyes.

  “You ever done it with a total stranger?” he whispered. “Just fast and hard, down-and-dirty fucking? No strings. No rules. No consequences?”

  Diana shook her head. Tried to figure out what the hell he saw in her that would make him want—

  “My truck quit a couple blocks from an old mom-and-pop motel,” he continued. “If it makes you feel better—gives you an alibi if folks get nosy—you can take me back to my truck. Just a good Samaritan giving a guy a lift on a rainy day. But it’s up to you. I’ll get out, if you want.”

  He dropped his hands. Settled back into the passenger seat. Watched her with eyes that missed nothing.

  Diana looked over her shoulder to be sure she wouldn’t hit anything—except the back windshield was as fogged as the front one. She cranked her wipers up, full tilt…let the rapid-fire sound of rubber on glass drown out the anticipation hanging between them like an invisible swarm of hornets. Never mind that the buzz was inside her, driving her nuts. What should she do? As the rain beat against her car, she heard the thrum of his body…and her own body’s urgent reply.

  She took her foot off the brake so the car drifted farther back, past the row of trucks parked along the front of the cafe. She turned the wheel slowly, so the car was pointed toward the road she could barely see through the rain. “Which way?” she rasped.

  He smiled and pointed. “Unless there’s someplace else you had in mind.”

  Diana’s laugh sounded sharp in the small ca
r. “It’s not like I go around looking for places to—”

  “Maybe that’s about to change. Are you okay with that?”

  She stopped at the edge of the graveled lot as a semi roared by, throwing a wave of water at them. “I…I guess we’ll find out. Won’t we?”

  3

  Michael White Horse sat tightly, trying not to bang his knees against the dashboard every time her car hit a rut. What the hell was he doing, coming on to this woman? Was he so hard up for—

  His jeans had the answer to that one, didn’t they? He shifted in the worn-down seat, aching with an erection that had nowhere to go. Truth be told, this woman wasn’t the type he usually came on to. He didn’t feel proud of propositioning her when she looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet.

  Yet that was exactly what appealed to him: that haunted look in her red-rimmed green eyes told the same story of separation and brokenness that had set him on the road to the rodeo. She obviously needed a white knight, and in his finer moments he took pride in rescuing women who’d succumbed to trouble. Helluva note, that he’d gotten less than a hundred miles before his truck died.

  But if he didn’t get any further with her, that was even better. Last thing he needed was another woman expecting things he couldn’t deliver, or somebody who wanted to be his mother. She had brought up the age thing, and he wasn’t in the mood to quibble. He was just needy enough, just horny enough, to take off some of this edge while he waited out the storm. He hadn’t expected her to go along with it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And this gal knew even more about desperation than he did.

  From beneath the brim of his dripping hat, he stole glances at her. Slim, strong arms…sturdy hands gripped the wheel to keep the car from weaving all over the road. She sat forward, squinting through the windshield…making lines around her eyes that shouldn’t be there, damn it. She was too young to be so carved up by life. Had a plain gold band on her left hand, yet her hesitant answers said the man who’d given it to her was no longer around.