Читать книгу One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 11
ОглавлениеShock rendered Emily completely still. She couldn’t believe Dylan was about to kiss her, but she could not deny the electric jolt of the first brush of his lips. Suddenly breathless, she found herself closing her eyes and parting her lips. Darn it all, this reckless cowboy was one fine kisser. And she was susceptible as could be to the seductive heat of his mouth, combined with the masculine certainty of his tall, strong body pressed against hers. Despite her efforts to remain immune to this ridiculously false display of affection, she impulsively wound her arms around his neck. And still he kept on kissing her, until she shivered with sheer pleasure and the rest of the world literally fell away...
Dylan hadn’t meant to get so caught up in the moment. And maybe he wouldn’t have, had Emily’s lips not been so incredibly sweet, her body so warm and womanly.... This was supposed to be his chance to put the audacious heiress in her place and make sure she never made false claims about the two of them again.
And yet, the kiss that had started out merely as a way to knock her off balance and show her who was boss swiftly turned into much, much more. It was an invitation to delve further into the chemistry between them. A lightning bolt of desire that instinct told him neither of them would soon forget.
He might not be the right kind of guy for her, or she the right kind of woman for him, but the passion between them was potent. Too potent, Dylan decided, for the kiss to continue.
It took everything he had to let the passionate embrace come to a halt. And a second after that he was reminded that they had an audience.
All three of her big brothers looked at him as if they wanted to clock him.
Dylan could hardly blame them.
Had Emily been his wildly impetuous baby sister...
Blushing, Emily stepped back slightly, grabbed Dylan’s sleeve and held on tight. “You know,” she said, seemingly making up words on the fly with the same impetuousness that had him kissing her, “that wasn’t the smartest move either of us has ever made, Dylan. But,” she continued before any of the four males around her could interrupt, “that’s what happens when you’re in love.” She paused to beam at him. “Right, Dylan?”
Once again, he had a chance to put her in place. All he had to do was disavow having any feelings at all for her. Tell the truth about their “date.”
Certainly, it would have been the wise thing to do—if he wanted to end this craziness.
For some reason, he didn’t.
Dylan rocked back on his heels, braced his hands on his waist and shrugged in the direction of her outraged brothers. “I’m not sure there are words that would ever adequately explain this situation,” he said.
“You’ve got that right,” Emily concurred. “Besides, we should get a move on. We have to go back to the café and pick up the rest of the desserts for the buffet.” She dropped her grip on his sleeve, clasped his hand in hers and tugged Dylan away from her still-scowling, perplexed brothers. “See you later, guys!” She tossed the dismissive words over her shoulder.
Seconds later, Dylan felt Emily begin to disengage her hand from his.
Loath to let her go—because that would have meant he was letting her call all the shots, which was not a good precedent to set—Dylan held tight.
She turned, flashed a smile that did not reach her pretty eyes and then whirled around and kept going.
Half a block of historic downtown buildings later, she had unlocked the front door to the Daybreak Café, stormed inside and shut the door behind them. Still fuming, she promptly wrested her hands from his. “All right, cowboy!” she snapped, pausing only to give him a long, withering glare. “You have one heck of a lot of explaining to do!”
* * *
EMILY EXPECTED AN APOLOGY. It was, after all, the only decent thing to do, given the outlandishly passionate way Dylan had just kissed her. In front of an audience of her family and countless others, no less!
“Hey.” Dylan mocked her impudently. “I’m not the one still claiming to have a date with a person who’s already rejected me!”
Indignation warmed Emily’s cheeks. “Claim what you like, cowboy, if it soothes your ruffled feelings, but there was nothing ‘rejecting’ about that kiss you just gave me.”
“I never said I didn’t desire you,” Dylan volleyed back in a low, rich voice that practically oozed testosterone.
He was acting as if their madcap embrace was a good thing. “How dare you, anyway!”
He stepped forward and further invaded her space. “How dare you?”
With effort, Emily ignored the sexual tremors starting deep inside her. Determined to get command of a situation that was fast escalating out of control, she extended her index finger and tapped him on the center of his rock-solid chest. “Let’s get something straight, Dylan.” She waited until she was certain she had his full attention. “My request for help did not include anything sexual.”
He winked at her facetiously. “Too bad, ’cause if it had, I might have said yes.”
Emily curtailed the urge to deck him for that remark. She didn’t know what he was up to now, but she did not like it one bit. “Furthermore, you are incredibly ill-mannered.”
“Never claimed to be otherwise,” Dylan said with a careless shrug.
Emily arched her eyebrows and ignored his pronouncement. “And you owe me an apology for that kiss.”
“You owe me an apology for that kiss!” he countered just as emphatically, even as her knees grew weaker still.
“Really.” She lifted her chin, drew a deep breath. “Really?”
Dylan looked at her as if he already knew what it felt like to make love to her. “You bet your hot temper you do!”
“Listen, cowboy, I did not start that!”
He moved closer, once again towering over her. “You sure continued it enthusiastically though, didn’t you?”
Darned if he hadn’t made her flush all over again.
Emily’s spine stiffened. “Only because I didn’t want to make my brothers suspicious,” she retorted, hanging on to her composure by a thread.
“Yeah, well,” he pointed out glibly, “you sure failed on that count.”
Emily blinked. “Are you kidding? They thought our embrace was so genuinely hot they wanted to punch you out.”
And whether Dylan wanted to admit it or not, their clinch had been genuinely hot. As well as definitely misguided, Emily thought, pushing aside the potent fantasy this discussion was evoking.
The last thing she needed to be thinking about was kissing him again, she reminded herself firmly.
And she certainly didn’t need to be imagining Dylan’s beautifully muscled body stretched out alongside her own.
Or fixate on the fact that everywhere she was soft, he’d be hard. Everywhere he was male, she’d be female....
He regarded her with a devil-may-care glint in his eyes. “Your siblings wanted to throttle me because they suspected it wasn’t a real date and therefore felt I had no place making out with you—on the town square no less.”
“They had a point about that, Dylan. You did not have a right to haul me into your arms and plant one on me.”
Dylan exhaled. “You reap what you sow, sweetheart.”
The warning in his tone sent a chill down her spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dylan narrowed his eyes. “I’m not interested in being one of your little projects.”
Despite her desire to stay cool, calm and collected, Emily’s heart beat faster. “Excuse me?”
Dylan eyed her seriously. “I wasn’t in town five minutes before I heard all about how the beautiful Emily McCabe likes to bring home ‘strays’ and fix ’em up...and then gets them to fall in love with her before she dumps them.”
More like the guys dumped me, Emily thought glumly.
But not about to correct Dylan on that, she let the misconception stand.
She gave him an arch look and started to turn away. “I don’t deny I was trying to help you, too.” My mistake!
He caught her by the elbow and reeled her back. “By ensnaring me in your web so you could make me over, too?”
“You could use a few more manners, not to mention a haircut and a decent shave,” she said tartly. “But that’s hardly the point.”
He snorted in exasperation. “Then what is?”
“Your horse-training business here in Laramie is only a couple of years older than my business.” Searching for a theory he might accept as plausible, she continued making it up as she went. “I know you’re constantly trying to improve the facilities and equipment on your ranch, and I thought free meals here might help your bottom line.”
He glared at her. “First of all, I’m paid very well for the problem horses I diagnose and train—and I have no shortage of work coming my way. So my bottom line is fine, thank you very much.”
And yet, Emily noted, she had somehow struck a nerve with her mention of money....
Her pulse inexplicably picking up, she angled her head at him. “If business is so good, why don’t you hire some cowboys to help you?”
Dylan grimaced. “I like working alone. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s livelihood. And most important of all, I don’t ever want to invest so much in a piece of property that I can’t pick up and move the whole operation if—and when—I feel like it.”
Emily had the feeling he was talking about much more than just his ranch now. She shook her head in mocking censure. “That’s a crying shame, cowboy. You’ll never put down roots that way. Never belong. Probably never marry and have a family, either!”
Although why that should bother her, she did not know. It wasn’t any of her business!
Dylan’s broad shoulders stiffened. “I don’t want roots. Or marriage. Or any of the happily-ever-afters you’re peddling, because that’s never been for me, either. I want my freedom. Which is why I would never—and I repeat, never—hook up with a down-home family gal like you.”
Emily inhaled the sandalwood-and-spice fragrance of his cologne. “I don’t deny I love my family, but I am my own person.”
A victorious light gleamed in his golden brown eyes. “Then how come they all feel they need to find your boyfriends for you?”
Emily bit down on a most unladylike oath. She threw up her hands in frustration, hating the fact she had to practically beg this temperamental cowpoke to cooperate. But the fix-up currently being engineered by her parents—not to mention those of her three brothers’ machinations—remained a very big problem. One she was determined to solve.
Hopefully, with his help.
Emily inhaled deeply and said in the softest, most feminine voice she possessed, “Look, Dylan, all I ask is that you pretend for just a little while longer that you and I are an item.” She added persuasively, “It shouldn’t be that hard, after the way you just kissed me.”
He lifted an eyebrow, said nothing.
“My offer for free meals at the café still stands.” Telling herself the end justified the means, this once, Emily lifted a hand airily and recklessly gave herself permission to go crazy. “You can have as many breakfasts and lunches as you like...as long as you cooperate with me.” There, that ought to do it. A gal couldn’t get more magnanimous than that.
He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and rocked forward on his toes. “That’s very generous of you, Miss Emily.”
Emily flushed at the sudden moniker of respect. “Thank you.”
He lowered his handsome face until they were nose to nose. “But if I were to agree—and that in itself is a long shot—that is not the payment I want.”
Oh, dear heaven.
How was it he knew just what buttons to push with her? “Then what compensation do you want?” she asked sweetly, fearing she already knew.
“This.”
Bringing his lips even closer, he cupped a hand beneath her chin. Emily could not believe he was about to kiss her again. Or worse, that she was welcoming his attentions! What kind of fool did that make her? She knew this didn’t mean anything to him. Not what it should have anyway, for someone kissing her with this much passion.
Behind them, a bell rang.
Abruptly aware they were no longer alone, Emily turned her head slightly without actually stepping out of the circle of Dylan’s arms. To her dismay, her parents walked in the door.
* * *
DYLAN STEPPED BACK as Shane and Greta McCabe stared at him in mute amazement. He could hardly blame them. What had gotten into him? He was usually so controlled.
Whenever he was around Emily, he acted like a hormone-driven teenager—and she was behaving just as badly. Except right now, she looked as if she wished a hole in the floor would open up so she could sink right through it.
He felt the same.
This was not the way he wanted the respected horse rancher and his accomplished wife to see him. Especially given all he now had at stake, with a soon-to-be-announced deal Emily apparently knew nothing about. Otherwise, Dylan was sure she would have mentioned it.
Not about to apologize for kissing Emily—even if it would smooth over what was an incredibly awkward situation—Dylan nodded at the older couple. He said formally, “Mr. and Mrs. McCabe. Nice to see you.”
“Good to see you, Dylan,” Shane and Greta McCabe replied, in unison.
“Emily.” A cautioning lilt was in Greta McCabe’s tone as she took in her daughter. “Your father and I just met the proprietor of the new restaurant.”
“I hope he’s not the guy you’re planning to fix me up with,” Emily said.
For some reason, Dylan noted, that notion seemed to amuse them.
“Ah—no,” Shane said finally.
Unconvinced, Emily narrowed her eyes at her parents. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely,” Greta said, her tone definitive.
“Because I can see how that would seem to make sense to you,” Emily continued, working up a head of steam. “Me and the new diner owner, becoming a thing.”
“Believe us,” her mother said firmly, “the two of you are not a match your father and I would ever try and make.”
“That’s too bad,” said a smug teenager with trendy, bleached-blond hair, catching the tail end of their conversation as he sauntered in to join them.
He was just under six feet tall, wearing a burnt-orange Cowtown Diner T-shirt, jeans and the most ridiculously expensive and ornate pair of ostrich boots and gold belt buckle Dylan had ever seen.
Ignoring him, the kid grinned at Emily and extended his hand. “Because I would very much like to get to know...and date...you!”
* * *
EMILY’S JAW DROPPED even as she did the polite thing and accepted the proffered greeting.
“Xavier Shillingsworth, owner of the soon-to-be-open Cowtown Diner.” The teen continued holding her hand long after it would have been polite to let go. He leaned in even closer, inundating Emily with expensive cologne. “And you must be the Emily McCabe, head chef and owner of the Daybreak Café, that I’ve heard so much about.”
Emily forced a smile and wrested her hand from the young man’s grip. “Yes. I am.”
Xavier continued sizing her up with undisguised interest. “I hear we’re going to be in hot competition with each other—since our two restaurants are the only table-service establishments in Laramie that serve breakfast.”
Emily had been brought up to be courteous, even to those who were pushy and borderline rude. And that rule went double in business situations. “I’m sure there is room for both of our establishments,” she said pleasantly, injecting the situation with the down-home hospitality for which Laramie, Texas, was known.
“If not, may the best restaurateur win,” Xavier taunted. Grinning confidently, he aimed a thumb at his chest and proclaimed, “I know who my money’s on!”
The look in his eyes briefly telegraphing he’d had enough, Dylan stepped forward, putting his tall body between Xavier and Emily. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dylan Reeves. One of the ranchers in the area. And I know a lot of people here tonight who would like to meet you, too. Especially Emily’s three brothers. So why don’t we go—” Dylan slapped a companionable hand on Xavier’s shoulder and spun him around toward the door “—and talk up your new establishment.”
Quick steps were made, and the door shut behind them.
“That was nice of Dylan,” Greta said.
“No kidding.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief.
Shane shook his head. “Shillingsworth is going to be unpleasantly competitive.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“So, if you need help putting him in his place...” Shane growled, all protective father.
Emily lifted a palm. “I can handle the situation, Dad. Just like I can figure out, on my own, how to rev up my personal life.”
“So it’s true?” her mom interrupted, with furrowed brow. “You do have a date with Dylan this evening?”
Talk about putting her on the spot! “In a manner of speaking...” Emily cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t need any help finding a man to hang out with. So I’d rather not hear any suggestions on who I should be seeing. And I certainly don’t want to be fixed up on any dates by anyone in the family!”
Finished, Emily braced herself for the emotional argument sure to come. Instead, to her utter amazement, her mother completely backed off. “You’re right,” Greta murmured, looking at Shane for verification, as if wanting to make sure they were on the same page.
Shane locked eyes with Greta. Something passed between them. “It would be a mistake for us to try to matchmake at this point,” Emily’s father concluded finally.
Well, that was easy, Emily thought with relief. Astoundingly...almost suspiciously...so.
“We came in to tell you that the opening ceremony is about to start,” Greta said.
“I’ll be right there,” Emily promised. “I just need to get a few trays of chocolate and lemon-meringue pies.”
“We’ll all help,” her dad said.
Five minutes later, the pies were set out on the buffet tables. Shane and Greta—the charity event’s hosts—were stepping up to the microphones. They spoke about the Libertyville Boys Ranch, and how much the facility helped juvenile delinquents turn their lives around.
“The institution has been so successful, they are expanding again. The problem is, they need more therapy horses for the kids to care for. So,” Shane said, “I’ve made arrangements with the Bureau of Land Management to purchase three wild mustangs for training. Dylan Reeves—the renowned horse whisperer in the area—is going to be doing the schooling.” Wild applause erupted. “When they are ready, the horses will go to the boys ranch, where they will be adopted into a very good home....”
Incredibly impressed, Emily made her way through the crowd to Dylan’s side. In shock, she murmured, “I had no idea you were a philanthropist.”
Was it possible the two of them had more in common than they knew?
Not surprisingly, Dylan looked irritated by her compliment. “Don’t view me as some sort of saint. I’m not,” he muttered gruffly, and then for good measure, added, “I’m being paid.”
“Just not your normal rate,” Emily guessed.
Dylan scowled. “It’s a challenge,” he said flatly. “I like working with mustangs. I like the fact the horses will find a good, loving home at the boys ranch.” He regarded her, all tough lonesome cowboy. “Don’t make more of it than that.”
* * *
HOURS LATER, EMILY turned to Simone, as the after-event cleanup commenced. Emily followed Simone’s gaze to where her son, Andrew, stood talking with that same group of boys.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” The kids were from a neighboring town and looked like bad news.
Simone stacked serving platters onto a wheeled cart.
“I have a feeling he’s going to ask me if he can go out past his curfew tonight.”
“If it’s not a good idea,” Emily counseled, “you have every right to say no.”
“I know that,” Simone sighed. “It just seems like that’s all I say these days.”
The group of kids were edging toward a late-model pickup truck with extra lights mounted across the top. They seemed to be encouraging Andrew to ditch the cleanup, forgo getting permission and just take off.
Emily touched Simone’s arm. “Why don’t you go on?”
Simone’s posture relaxed with relief. “Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.”
“No problem.”
Emily cast a glance at Dylan, who was busy helping a group of ranchers disassemble the bandstand. Her brothers were off with her dad, in another direction, taking down the strings of banners and colored lights.
Pleased the event had turned out so well, she finished loading up her cart and wheeled it in the direction of the café.
No sooner had she gotten inside than a light rap sounded on the door. Xavier Shillingsworth stepped in, all young bravura. “I was thinking...the two of us should go out on a date.”
Emily did not like hurting anyone’s feelings. Still, this was ludicrous and she had to make her would-be suitor realize it. “How old are you?” she asked gently.
“Nineteen.” Xavier slicked back his hair with his free hand. “But that shouldn’t matter.”
She arched a brow. Was he talking down to her?
“You can’t be that old.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” Emily said drily. “That’s nine years older than you. It’s a big difference.”
Xavier shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ve always wanted to go out with a cougar. And you’re hot!”
Was he serious? Apparently so.
Emily went back to loading dishes in the machine. “I’m curious. You are obviously a smart guy with a lot going for him. Why aren’t you in college?”
Xavier seemed flattered by the attention. “I didn’t want to go. So my dad bought me a franchise restaurant to run instead.”
Of course. Can’t solve a problem so throw money at it instead. And while you’re at it, get the problem kid out of the picture, too.
Emily smiled with encouragement. “You both may want to rethink that. College can be a fun, exciting time...with lots of girls your own age who are dying to go out on dates.”
“I don’t want a girl. I want you!”
Emily sighed and walked toward the exit. “Well, it’s not going to happen.”
“See?” Xavier caught up with her as she reached the dining room. He clamped his arms around her and crowded her all the more. “That’s what I like about you. You’re a real spitfire.”
Not about to let him so much as try to kiss her, Emily stomped on his toe with all her might. “And you’re a real horse’s rear end,” she spat out.
“Ouch!” Xavier hopped up and down in pain.
The door to the café opened and Dylan strode in. It took him all of two seconds to size up the situation. “Allow me.” He grabbed Xavier by the back of his Cowtown Diner T-shirt and escorted him to the door.
Dylan let him go just inside the portal. “If you ever touch her again, you’re going to have to deal with me.”
“On what grounds?” Xavier straightened his shirt. He regarded Dylan pugnaciously, clearly spoiling for a fistfight.
She was afraid there just might be one if the kid didn’t cut it out.
“I don’t see an engagement ring!”
Eager to be rid of the callow youth, Emily swung open the door to the café and glared at the teenager. “I don’t need a ring to be his. Now go.”
“You heard the lady.” When Xavier didn’t immediately comply, Dylan shoved him out the door and shut it firmly in his face.
Emily turned to Dylan. She knew it was unnecessary and politically incorrect of her, but she really liked the idea of Dylan jumping to her defense. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an action she could let stand as precedent.
She rolled her eyes comically. “Obviously, I was exaggerating...about being your woman.”
The way Dylan was looking at her—as if he didn’t know whether to kiss her or chide her—forced Emily to remember exactly how good it had felt to be held in his embrace.
“I am aware of that,” he retorted.
“And for the record,” Emily continued stiffly, telling herself she and Dylan would not end up kissing again, no matter what, “I don’t need you to come to my rescue.”
The corners of Dylan’s lips twitched. “It would appear you did.”
Was it possible he had enjoyed defending her honor as much as she had? Emily pushed the bothersome thought away.
“No,” she corrected forcing herself to stay on track. She needed to keep her emotions under wraps. “I didn’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Dylan came closer, all sexy, determined male. “If you change your mind...”
Emily’s pulse jumped. “Why would I do that?”
“Because guys like that don’t like to be told no,” Dylan said in a low, cautioning tone.
Emily had been successfully fighting her own battles for as long as she could recall. “Well, in this case the kid is going to have to get used to it, because I am not interested in being his cougar.”
One corner of Dylan’s mouth curved upward at the notion. “He actually said that?”
So, she wasn’t the only one who found the teen’s proposal to her completely ludicrous!
“It was part of his come-on,” she explained. “I think in Xavier’s teenage fantasy I was just supposed to melt in his arms or something.”
Dylan grunted in response, his disapproval evident.
“Anyway,” Emily rushed on, anxious to put the embarrassing situation behind her, “I’m sure that after what just happened he’ll leave me alone now.”
Dylan’s expression was suddenly as inscrutable as his posture. Deliberately, he inclined his head. “If he doesn’t...you’re welcome to be ‘my woman’...anytime.”
