Читать книгу The Boy Toy - Eugenia Riley - Страница 10
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Оглавление“YOU’RE GOING to get us a ticket!” Allison protested.
“If I do, I’ll pay for it,” Pete calmly replied.
They were literally bolting down the tollway toward Highway 290, Steppenwolf screaming in their ears. Allison judged Pete was driving at least eighty-five as he whipped through the rush-hour traffic. Her engine throbbed, roared with energy. Allison had no idea her sedate little sedan was capable of behaving like an Indy 500 racer, any more than she’d known that a sexy urban cowboy could make her own motor thrum this way….
But then, look who was behind the wheel. Sexual power seemed to radiate from Pete as he drove. Allison could see it in the intensity of his expression, the tautness of his muscled body, the strength and purpose of his large hands on the wheel, the gleam of pure animal pleasure in his eyes. He was as revved up as the car.
Oh, to have all that raw lust for life directed toward her!
And wasn’t it? The very question made her go weak.
Reining in her errant thoughts, she managed to say, “Okay, you’ve convinced me you’ve fixed my car.”
Pete zigzagged past two slow-moving vehicles. “That’s not all I want to do.”
“Oh?” She swallowed hard.
“I want you to appreciate her, see what she can do.”
Allison grimaced. “Have you ever been tested for mental illness?”
He chuckled. “I could tell when I was tuning her up today that she was dying for a good, hard ride.”
Suddenly Allison was strangling. Everything Pete said was rife with sexual meaning. And her nerves were hardly soothed by his breakneck driving as he vaulted them onto Highway 290 and shot down the freeway in a squeal of rubber.
In a near-futile attempt to keep her head above water, she changed the subject. “You take pride in your work, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
She offered him a conciliatory look. “Guess I was a little hard on you today.”
“A little? A grease monkey, a moron, a creep.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”
“Well, can you blame me for being suspicious after I’ve been screwed around by you guys?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Screwed around, have you, darlin’?”
Allison felt her face smarting. “You know what I mean! My point is, you did a good job, and that’s commendable.”
He tipped his hat to her. “Hot damn, thank you, ma’am.”
“Now who’s being prickly?” she accused.
“Actually, I appreciate the vote of confidence. And I do like my job.” With deliberate relish, he continued, “There’s nothing like getting your hands on a hot little engine, feeling it purr and throb to life, revving it up and feeling the power surging—”
Now Allison did groan aloud. “Will you stop it?”
“Stop what?” he inquired innocently.
“All the service bay sexual innuendo. I’ve had my fill of it.”
“Sex on the mind, eh, sugar?”
“You mean sex on your mind,” she shot back.
“Lady, I’ve been talking cars.”
“Cowboy, you’ve been talking smut.”
He grinned unabashedly. “But you’re with me, aren’t you?”
Oh, yeah, she was with him. “I’m not with you,” she denied aloud. “We’re taking a drive in the country, for heaven’s sake.”
“Getting hot under the collar, are you?”
She resisted the urge to comment.
“You know, in my granddad’s day, taking a drive on the prairie would’ve been grounds for marriage.”
“My God, you are a dinosaur,” she declared.
“Hey, I’m only twenty-six,” he protested.
“Me, too,” she put in, pleased to hear they were the same age.
He eyed her quizzically. “Really? When’s your birthday?”
“December.”
“Hah!” he declared, full of smug superiority. “Mine’s October, which makes me older and wiser.”
“Get out of here!” she declared.
“Can’t, ma’am, I’m driving,” he quipped, returning his attention to the road. They were heading northwest on Highway 290, leaving the suburbs behind at a fast clip. “You hungry?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He feigned a tone of exaggerated courtesy. “Has madam eaten? Does she have plans for the evening?”
Allison glowered. “No, I generally play catch-up on Wednesday nights.”
“You’ve got to eat, woman. As a matter of fact, there’s a place I’d like to take you to.”
“And where is that?” she simpered. “To a bordello in Hempstead?”
“No, to a genuine restaurant.”
“Aha! So that was your purpose all along? A date?”
“A date?” he mocked. “Hell, honey, you offered to buy me dinner.”
“Now you want me to pay?”
Pete’s expression gleamed with secret pleasure. “I’m not sure I should answer such a loaded question. But as far as buying dinner is concerned, it’ll be my treat.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Let’s just say I want to retain the goodwill of one of our valued customers,” he drawled with exaggerated courtesy. “So what do you say?”
She glanced out at a large, barnlike establishment looming ahead on their right, with a huge mural of a bull emblazoned on its side. “I say you’re as full of it as that bull.”
He roared with laughter. “And that’s just where we’re headed, sugar—straight to the bull.” In a cloud of dust, he turned them into the gravelly driveway, which was jammed with pickup trucks and horse trailers.
She stared skeptically at the sign. “Clem’s Corral? Sounds like a cattle lounge.”
He pulled them into a parking space next to a huge fire-engine red pickup truck. “My kind of place. Best chicken-fried steak this side of the Pecos.”
“Oh, brother,” Allison muttered.
CLEM’S WAS INDEED a redone barn, with sawdust on the floors and old-timers lounging at the antique bar. On a far dais, a small country and western band was playing, “The Devil Came Down to Georgia,” while a few brave souls struggled to dance the fast reel. Beyond them a group of cowboys was cheering, gathered around a lurching mechanical bull where one of their numbers was pitching about and waving his hat.
“My Lord,” Allison declared. “I thought Gillie’s burned to the ground years ago, and this kind of scene went out with Urban Cowboy.”
Pete solemnly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s a Dallas girl for you.”
“Oh, hush.”
As they passed the bar, the balding bartender waved to Pete. “Hiya, kid. The usual?”
“Yeah, Joe. Two specials. Two drafts.”
She turned to him. “Wait a minute. The usual? For two?”
His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Sugar, you can’t think I’ve never brought a woman here before.”
Allison waved a hand. “Your gall is unbelievable. I mean you ordered for me.”
He lowered his voice. “Honey, the special’s the only thing they cook here that’s palatable. They serve catfish, but they’ve been out of the tank long enough to grow new whiskers, if you know what I mean.”
“Whatever.” She glanced about, caught several gruff-looking characters staring baldly at her, and tugged self-consciously at her short skirt. “Look, I’m not dressed for this place.”
“Honey, you’re dressed to start a stampede,” he assured her. “Fact is, I’m gonna have to fight every man in here for you. Now let’s get settled at a table before the bulls get too restless.”
Allison shook her head, unable to believe she’d gone out with such a twang-spouting fossil—even if the man was incredibly gorgeous. They seated themselves at a small wooden table off to the side.
A buxom barmaid sauntered up with their beers. “Hi, handsome,” she greeted Pete.
“Hi, Willie. How have the saddle tramps been treating you?”
“Oh, fair to middlin’, and as full of sass as ever.” She inclined her head toward Allison. “See you got another pretty filly on your arm.”
Pete winked at Allison, then confided to Willie, “Yeah, but the lady’s miffed that I ordered her the special. Tell her about your catfish.”
Willie leaned toward Allison and whispered confidentially, “Honey, I wouldn’t toss ’em to a pack of starving coyotes.”
“Thanks, that’s so comforting,” Allison rejoined.
Undaunted, the waitress sauntered away with a swing of her ample rear. Shaking her head, Allison turned back to Pete. “Where did you dig up this place?”
“My folks used to bring me and my younger brother here. I was raised on a ranch in Fort Bend County.”
“Oh, were you?” Allison was pleasantly surprised. So, his cowboy act wasn’t fake. Erin had been right that she might have found the genuine article. It did make sense, she realized. There were a lot of small-spread ranchers in Texas, many of them managing to live just above the poverty level. A rancher’s son might well end up a car mechanic in a nearby large city.
“You know, my new assistant is from Fort Bend County,” she remarked. “Have you heard of the Freshausen family?”
“Rings a bell, but don’t believe I’ve met them.”
“Katie is a real jewel. Just out of junior college, still living at home. But she hopes to be able to move into an apartment in town by the fall.”
“Good for her.”
“And how about you? Where do you live—besides the back room at the dealership.”
“Oh, I got my own little place in town,” he rejoined modestly. “Weekends I generally go home to the ranch for some horseback riding, if I’m not rodeoing.”
“Rodeoing?”
“I ride the bull.”
“You dish it out, too.” Watching him grin, she hastily cleared her throat. Suddenly, she wanted to change the subject to something safer and blurted, “I work out.” Once the words were out of her mouth, she almost groaned—not a big improvement in subject matter.
Again his appreciative gaze raked her. “I can tell. You’re in prime shape, ma’am.”
“Will you stop it with this ‘ma’am’ nonsense? Makes you sound like Roy Rogers.”
“You don’t like me calling you sugar, either,” he groused.
She was about to scold him further when a pretty older woman strolled up, dressed in a blue jean skirt, matching vest, boots and a long-sleeved red-checked shirt. “Why Pete Chisholm, as I live and breathe.”
“Gussie!” he cried, standing and giving the dark-haired woman a friendly hug. “I swear, you’re as pretty as ever.”
Gussie waved a hand. “Oh, quit flattering me, handsome, and introduce me to your friend.”
Pete grinned sheepishly. “Gussie Gutheridge, meet Allison Tracy, lately come to our fair neck of the woods from Big D.”
Gussie offered the younger woman her hand. “How do you do?”
Allison shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Gussie frowned quizzically. “Would you happen to be related to Everett Tracy of Highland Park Trust?”
“You know my father?” Allison inquired in pleasant surprise.
“I met Everett at the governor’s fund-raiser a couple years back.”
Allison flashed Pete a puzzled look, and he spoke up. “Gussie is very active in politics in Fort Bend County, and she’s been the editor of the Fort Bend County Gazette for many years now.”
“Oh, yes,” Allison replied in pleasant surprise. “You know, I was just telling Pete that my assistant is from Fort Bend County. Katie Freshausen.”
“Why, of course, I’m well acquainted with the Freshausens,” said Gussie. “We recently covered Katie’s little sister’s piano recital.”
“I know. She showed me the article. Good work.”
Gussie beamed. “Why, thank you, dear.” Slyly she turned to Pete. “Is this something serious?”
“Gussie!” he chided.
Gussie winked at Allison. “Pete’s quite a catch, you know.”
Allison smiled. She was sure he would be, to the editor of a small-town newspaper. “Yeah, Pete’s a real gem.”
Gussie cast Pete a pointed look. “Should I tell that sweet little Mary Lou hello for you? I’ll be seeing her—and your folks—at church this weekend.”
Pete colored. “Sure. Why not?”
Gussie craned her neck toward the door. “Well, I can see Dan has paid the bill and is likely revving up the truck. Guess I’d best hustle if I want a ride home. Lord only knows where that man was in heaven when they handed out the patience.”
Pete laughed. “Good to see you, Gussie.”
She shook a finger at him. “Mind your manners, boy. Nice to meet you, Ms. Tracy.”
“You, too,” Allison rejoined.
Gussie walked off, and as Pete sat down, an awkward silence fell. “Who’s sweet little Mary Lou?” Allison finally asked, simpering.
“A very old friend,” came the tight reply. “Don’t concern yourself about her.”
“Why should I be concerned?” Allison retorted, too sharply. “I was merely curious. Besides, we’re just—”
“I know, out for a ride,” he interrupted, but with good humor.
The waitress swept back up, depositing their dinners. “Enjoy it, folks.”
Allison’s mouth dropped open and she stared bug-eyed at the huge plate, overflowing with the biggest chicken-fried steak she’d ever seen. The gigantic fritter spilled over the edges, smothered in cream gravy, as were the mashed potatoes and corn. Stacked on the sides of the plate were wedges of Texas toast, and the aroma rising from the combined feast was tantalizing.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Allison exclaimed. “You expect me to eat all of this?”
Obviously having the time of his life, he leaned toward her. “Honey, you shouldn’t discourage a man regarding your, er, oral capacity on a first date.”
She hurled a paper coaster at him, but the devil only grinned. “This isn’t a date. It’s a lifetime supply of cholesterol.”
“What do you care? You’re gorgeous.”
“How do you think I got that way? By eating at these kinds of greasy spoons?”
“No. You work out.”
“And you ride.”
His gaze flicked to hers. “Yeah.”
He was too much! If dinner was a tall order, this guy was Pikes Peak. Allison dove into her meal to hide her scalded cheeks. The food was wonderful. It melted in her mouth. She found herself eating ravenously while gulping down beer.
“You’d think I’d never had a meal before,” she confided.
“Yeah. You ladies with your salads and pasta.” Leaning toward her, he murmured, “I’ve always thought getting her hands on a thick piece of meat awakens a primal hunger in a woman—and I can see I’m right.”
Allison’s gaze snapped up to his. She was shocked and riveted by his loaded comment.
“See what I do to you?” he inquired.
What you do to me. Not about to respond, barely able to hear him over her pounding heart, Allison took another scrumptious bite. “My God, this is decadent.”
“Not quite what you’re accustomed to in good old Highland Park, eh?”
“You say ‘Highland Park’ as if it’s an obscenity.”
“Not exactly a ripe atmosphere for pickup trucks and barbecue—unless there’s a secret life shared by bankers’ daughters that you’re not telling me about.”
That comment touched a nerve, and Allison frowned at him. “No secret life at all. Just a typical Highland Park home. Two people who married more for business and social reasons than for love—and an older brother who was a bookworm.”
“Leaving you to be the wild child?” he asked with an unexpected touch of gentleness.
Realizing she’d confided in Pete more than she’d intended, Allison lifted her chin. “I don’t think I was any wilder than any other SMU girl. But then, you know the type, right?”
A sheepish look came over him. “Hey, Allison, I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound so jaded. And I’m sorry for what you missed as a child. I grew up in a very warm and loving home.” Abruptly his expression hardened. “The only problem being my shit of a younger brother.”
She laughed. “So that’s how you got the idea that younger siblings are trouble.”
He leaned toward her, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Honey, you’re trouble. But in the best possible way.”
Feeling too charmed by him, Allison took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Well, my parents certainly found me to be a real handful—in the worst way. Some of the stunts I pulled in high school—going to rave parties and heavy metal concerts—drove them up the wall. These days, they’re especially ticked off because I decided to move to Houston rather than marry one of several fair-haired sons of their wealthy friends.”
“Yeah, parents sure can meddle like that, can’t they?” he asked.
She eyed him curiously, wondering if he were again referring to the elusive “Mary Lou.” “Yes, they can.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m very glad yours weren’t successful. But then I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a headstrong creature, aren’t you?”
“Don’t forget it,” she advised proudly.
He gestured toward her plate. “Now that you’ve all but licked the plate clean, would you like dessert? They make a mean peach cobbler.”
“I think I’d give myself a heart attack,” she declared.
“Coffee then? Or another beer?”
“Another beer sounds good.”
He motioned for the waitress. “Wanna dance?”
“Sure. But the band is taking a break.”
“There’s always the jukebox.”
“Fine.”
They both stood. Allison was starting away when Pete caught her hand. “Wait just a minute.”
“Yes?” Her flesh seemed to sizzle where he touched her.
His gaze held hers as slowly, he began unbuttoning her suit jacket. Allison realized she should object, but she was just too intrigued. When he slipped the garment off her shoulders, his strong warm fingers brushed her bare arms, and she restrained a moan of treacherous longing. Gooseflesh consumed her as he devoured her shapely breasts clad in the skimpiest white cashmere tank top.
“Ah, that’s better,” he said huskily.
“It’s cooler,” Allison protested with a shiver.
“I’ll keep you warm.”
Indeed, her fingers seemed to burn as Pete led her out onto the dance floor. Stepping away briefly, he put some coins in the old Wurlitzer jukebox and punched some buttons. As he returned to her side, Sheryl Crow began to croon, “In Need.” Allison’s knees almost buckled. How could he know that was one of her favorite songs? And so very sensual.
To be honest, she was in need. In need of him. When Pete tenderly pulled her into his arms and his body heat inundated her, when he pressed his temple against her own, suddenly all of her seemed to ache for him. He was so powerful, so warm, so vibrant. So close to her. She breathed a sigh of mingled frustration and desire.
He swept her about in a slow, sexy two-step, the scent of him driving her crazy. His wonderful hands caressed her bare arms, her back. Gradually those skilled fingers slid down her spine until he cupped her hips. She shuddered with longing. His wicked, hot fingers seemed to brand her.
And wasn’t that just what she had yearned for earlier—liberated creature though she was?
Then he drew her closer still, until she felt his hardness. Whimpering softly, Allison realized she should protest his boldness—but Santa Anna’s army couldn’t have dragged her away from this sexy Texan at the moment.
Her languid gaze drifted up to his. “Where are we headed with this, cowboy?”
He gently touched her cheek. “I think you know, don’t you, sugar?”
Oh, yes. She knew.
PETE COULDN’T HAVE FELT more thrilled as he and Allison danced away the night—to the Soggy Bottom Boys and the Dixie Chicks, and to anything the band played, even old Hank Williams’s tunes. She felt so wonderful in his arms—warm, soft, curvaceous, and she smelled so sweet. Feeling her shapely bottom move against his hands, Pete was hard-pressed not to haul her even closer and kiss her senseless. After all, she must be willing, or she would have rapped his knuckles long before now.
She was a feisty one, all right. She’d certainly put him through his paces today, and he was pleased as punch that he’d managed to keep her on the hook. In fact, he remained a bit shocked that she’d gone out with him at all, when she’d so obviously assumed he was a hick.
Still, she was coming around. She’d warmed up to him a lot over the course of the evening. The encounter with Gussie had been unfortunate, especially the mention of Mary Lou. But thank heaven his old family friend hadn’t spilled all the beans. For he still had some surprises in store for the spirited Ms. Allison Tracy…
At eleven she stumbled slightly in his arms, and he looked down into her gorgeous, slightly dazed eyes. “Guess I’d best drive you home. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.”
“And you haven’t?” she countered.
Pete had to smile. Even slightly tipsy, she was full of spirit. “Two beers at dinner, and sodas ever since. One of us had to remain sober enough to drive us safely home.”
“Yeah. At ninety miles an hour.”
Chuckling, he leaned over to nuzzle her ear, and satisfaction surged in him at the sound of her breathy little sigh. “Now that we know what your little engine can do, we can take our time. My point is, honey, you’ve had three beers.”
“Counting the empty bottles along the road to seduction, are you, cowboy?” she quipped. But he could hear the huskiness of desire in her voice, and passion stormed through him with new intensity.
He paused as Garth Brooks began singing on the jukebox, “To Make You Feel My Love,” one of Pete’s favorite ballads. “One last dance?” he asked her wistfully.
“Sure,” she murmured.
As they slowly stepped about she clung to him as if his arms were the most comfortable place to be in the world, and tenderness filled him. Lord, to have this evening end with him making love to her. That would be more than heaven, a dream come true. Even now she was snuggled up to him so trustingly.
Trust me a bit more, angel, he silently entreated.
A shudder racked Pete. For once he was shocked by the level of his own cravings. He’d picked up this woman earlier almost on a lark; he hadn’t counted on how deeply she would affect him.
“You know, you’ve been pretty nice to me,” she whispered huskily, breaking into his thoughts. “Fixing my car. Buying me dinner. Now driving me home.”
Warmed by her praise, he murmured, “My pleasure, honey.”
“But how will you get home?”
“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem.”
She managed a mock scowl. “Confident, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” he admitted. “But if there is a problem, I’ll take a cab home, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll pay,” she offered in a rush of generosity.
He clutched her tighter, drowning in her scent, pressing his lips to her brow. “Oh, yeah, honey. You will.”
Pete realized that even in her dazed state, Allison knew his comment had nothing to do with carfare.
