Читать книгу Texas Outlaws: Billy - Kimberly Raye, Kimberly Raye - Страница 9

3

BILLY HAD RUBBED bellies with more than his fair share of women over the years. But none had ever felt as soft or as warm as Sabrina Collins.

The notion struck him the moment he pulled her close and felt her pressed up against his body. He trailed his fingertips down the side of her face, under the curve of her jaw, down the smooth column of her throat, until the silky fabric of her blouse stopped him.

“You don’t look like much of a rodeo fan,” he murmured.

She shrugged. “Rodeos I can do without. Cowboys are a different matter altogether. I need as many as possible.”

“I’ve heard a lot of pickup lines, but that’s a first.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She licked her bottom lip and he had the urge to lean down and catch the plump flesh between his teeth and nibble. “This is all about business. My business. FindMeACowboy.com.”

“Sounds highly illegal.”

A grin tugged at her full lips. “It’s a dating service.”

“Why cowboys?”

“Because they’re generally hard workers, trustworthy, loyal.”

“You don’t sound one hundred percent convinced.” There was a cautious air about her and she seemed to stiffen as he stared down at her.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.” She shrugged. “It’s about the three thousand, four hundred and seventy-two women that we polled last year. So?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever thought about meeting someone online?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I meet plenty of women as it is, and I barely have time for any of them. I ride bulls for a living and this is my year. This rodeo is the first step to my very own championship in the fall. I don’t have time for dating.”

“Yet here you are dancing with me.” Despite the stiff way she held herself, there was just something about the way she looked at him with those deep blue eyes that said she was hungry for more than she wanted to admit. “One would be inclined to think you’re looking for someone.”

“Maybe, but this isn’t about a date.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s about sex, darlin’.” He pulled her closer, plastering them together from chest to thigh, holding her securely with one arm around her waist. “Lots of breath-stealing, bone-melting sex.”

Billy’s words slid into her ears, coaxing her to soften in his arms the way the warm heat of his body urged her to relax and let her guard down.

Fat chance.

The last thing she needed was to wind up in bed with a cowboy. For all her determination to find as many hunky, Wrangler-wearing hotties as possible, she wasn’t looking for one for herself. Sabrina Collins didn’t do cowboys. She’d seen firsthand just how unreliable they could be, and she certainly wasn’t interested in spending the rest of her life with one.

Then again, Billy Chisholm wasn’t exactly proposing marriage.

“You smell like cotton candy,” he murmured, his rich, deep voice sizzling over her nerve endings.

“A cotton-candy martini. The out-of-towner special over at the bar. About the sex thing, I’m really not interested.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t you like sex?”

She gave him a pointed stare. “Maybe I don’t like you.”

“Sugar, you don’t even know me. I’m a great guy. Awesome.” The teasing light in his eyes eased the stiffness in her muscles and she felt the flutter of butterfly wings in her stomach. A good sign if she’d just run into a nice-looking guy at her local Starbucks. But Billy Chisholm wasn’t your average Joe and she wasn’t letting herself get sucked in by his Southern charm.

Still. He talked a good talk. She arched an eyebrow. “Awesome, huh?”

“In bed and out.”

“Most men who walk around talking about how awesome they are in the sack usually aren’t much to talk about.”

“I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

She wanted to.

Her hands crept up the hard wall of his chest, her arms twined around his neck and she leaned closer.

His heart beat against her breasts. His warm breath sent shivers down the bare column of her neck. His hands splayed at the base of her spine, one urging her even closer while the other crept its way up, as if memorizing every bump and groove, until he reached her neck. A few deft movements of his fingers and the tight ponytail she wore unraveled. Her hair spilled down her back.

His hand cradled the base of her scalp, massaging for a few blissful moments, making her legs tremble and her good intentions scramble.

For the next few moments, she forgot all about her website and the all-important fact that she was supposed to be working right now.

She tilted her head back and found him staring down at her, as if he wanted to scoop her over his shoulder and haul her home to bed.

She had a quick vision of him wearing nothing but his cowboy hat, looming over her, his muscles gleaming in the moonlight as he loved her within an inch of her life.

And then walked away the next morning.

And that was the problem in a nutshell.

Sabrina had been there and done that. After she’d left home at eighteen, she’d been hellbent on not falling in love, and so she’d focused on lust. She’d indulged in too many one-night stands during those slutty college years, and beyond. Until she’d watched one of her roommates, Kat, meet the man of her dreams and fall in love. That had been two years ago when Kat had been a kindred spirit. A faithful believer in one-night stands just like Sabrina. Until she’d met Harry. He was an accountant by trade and living proof that there were a few good men out there. He didn’t lie or cheat or try to charm his way out of a difficult situation. He relied on honesty and integrity and he made Kat feel like a queen.

Sabrina wanted a Harry of her own and so she’d stopped wasting her time with one-night stands.

Sure, she liked sex, and she sure missed it after eleven months of celibacy—the amount of time since her last relationship—but she also liked camaraderie. She wanted a man to make her pancakes the next morning. A man who called if he was running late after work. A man who wouldn’t turn tail and run at the first sign of commitment.

A man who could give her more than just a really great orgasm.

Not that she minded a really great orgasm. But she preferred the friendship that came with an actual relationship. And when she wasn’t in a relationship like now? She had a vibrator that could deliver without all the awkwardness that followed a brief sexual encounter.

No fumbling for clothing or making promises that would never be kept. A vibrator was simple. Easy. Honest.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea. If you’ll excuse me...” She didn’t wait for a response. She darted away from him and left him staring after her.

His gaze drilled into her, and it was all she could do to keep from running back and begging him to give her the ride of her life.

He could. She knew it. She felt it.

She headed for the rear exit. Out in the parking lot, she climbed behind the wheel of her ancient Bonneville. She gave one last look at the exit door, half expecting, half hoping that he would come after her. He didn’t, and a swell of disappointment went through her, quickly followed by a wave of relief.

The last thing, the very last thing she needed in her life, was to fall into bed with the exact type of man she’d sworn off of years ago.

Her father had been a cowboy. A charming, salt-of-the-earth type, who worked from sunrise to sunset and never complained. But while he had a strong work ethic, his moral code had desperately lacked. He’d had an easy grin and a weakness for loose-looking women. He’d cheated on Arlene Collins regularly, always smooth-talking his way back into the house after a night of carousing with every female in their desperately small town. Arlene had forgiven him, catered to him, loved him, in spite of his good-for-nothing ways. She’d been a minister’s daughter who’d taken her vows very seriously. Therefore, she’d stuck by him through all the bad times, eager to keep her marriage together and make it work. But she’d never really been happy because Dan Collins hadn’t been a forever kind of man. He’d been the play-the-field, charm-you-out-of-your-panties sort. The one-night-stand kind.

Just like Billy Chisholm.

Sabrina wasn’t making the same mistake her mother had. At this point in her life, she was done with just sex. When she invested herself in a man, it would be one who would—could—love her and only her. A man who wouldn’t spend every Saturday night cruising the local honky-tonk, picking up women, propositioning them.

Eventually, that is.

At this point in her life, she was busy with her career, dedicated to making her online-dating service a huge success. She needed a big payoff so that she could pay off her student loans, get herself out of debt and get on with her life. As a serious journalist. The website would give her the financial stability she needed right now. That’s why she was here in Lost Gun—for the money. Not to find a date, much less a one-night stand.

Especially a one-night stand.

Sabrina didn’t do one-nighters. And she most certainly didn’t do cowboys.

Not now. Not ever.

No matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

* * *

HER CAR WOULDN’T START. The truth sank in after Sabrina cranked the engine a record ten times, until the loud grumble turned into a faint series of clicks that filled her with a sense of dread.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened. The car was over ten years old. A clunker she’d inherited from her grandfather before leaving town all those years ago. While she did her best to keep up the oil changes and take care of her one and only means of transportation, she’d found herself stranded here lately more times than she could count. She needed a new car. Even more, she needed the money to afford a new car. She rested her forehead on the wheel and cursed the pile of junk for several seconds before gathering her resolve and popping the hood. Outside, she lifted the heavy metal, grabbed a rag she kept stashed in the front grill and started checking her battery connections.

Corrosion had built up and she damned herself for not shelling out the hundred bucks to buy a new one before leaving L.A. But she was on a budget. One that barely allowed for the secondhand shoes on her feet and the designer skirt she’d picked up at a thrift store in Hollywood. Clothes that made her feel like a million bucks even though her bank account reflected anything but. Still. If she’d learned anything from marketing guru Livi, it was that success was all about projecting a certain image. About building a brand.

And her brand as a high-powered executive for the next big website did not involve shoving her face under a hood and praying for divine intervention.

She thought about going back inside and hunting down Livi. Her friend, never short on cash thanks to a decent trust fund from her parents, had picked up her own rental car when they’d arrived in town so that they could split up and cover more territory. The rental wasn’t anything extravagant—this was Lost Gun, after all—but it ran. They’d met here at the kick-off dance after Sabrina had spent the day at the fairgrounds while Livi had visited a nearby working ranch rumored to employ the hottest ranch hands in the entire county. Livi would give her a lift back to their motel.

Sabrina weighed her options. Calling or texting were both out because Livi was notorious for ignoring her phone when in the arms of a hot, hunky man. That meant Sabrina would have to go back inside and risk running into Billy Chisholm again.

She ditched the idea and fiddled a few more minutes with the connections. Sliding behind the wheel, she cranked the engine again.

Click. Click. Click.

“It’s flooded,” Billy’s deep voice slid along her nerve endings and put her entire body on instant alert. He leaned down, his handsome face filling up the driver’s window. The scent of clean soap and raw, sexy male teased her nostrils. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

She blew out an exasperated breath and reached for her cell phone. “I guess it’s time to call a tow truck.”

“Good luck.”

She eyed him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That there’s only one tow truck in town, sugar, and it belongs to George Kotch,” he murmured as if that explained it all. When she didn’t seem the least bit enlightened, he added, “He’s about a hundred years old and tires out real easy.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s already after ten. By now, he’s already eaten his bowl of ice cream, taken out his dentures and called it a night. Hell, he’s probably been asleep a good five hours or so.”

“Lovely,” she muttered.

“On the bright side, he’s up at the crack of dawn. He’ll surely have you out of here and over at the filling station by the time they open. You’ll get first dibs in the garage.”

“Lucky me. What about a cab service?”

He shook his head. “Red’s got a thing for TV. Started with soap operas and progressed to late night TV.”

“Good Samaritan?”

His grin was slow and extremely sexy. “At your service.”

“You want to give me a ride?”

His grin grew wider. “In the worst way.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about more than just driving me somewhere?”

“Because I am.” His expression grew serious and his eyes glittered. “I want you and I’d bet my next buckle that you feel the same even if you don’t seem all that anxious to admit it.” He glanced around at the parking lot full of cars. Yet there wasn’t a soul around. Everyone was back inside, dancing and drinking it up. “Seems like fate if you ask me. You run off in a tiff and bam, the car won’t start. Maybe someone upstairs is trying to tell you that I’m not such a bad guy.”

“No, you’re a cowboy.” Which was worse. Much worse.

At the same time, there did seem something almost inevitable about the way he’d shown up right when she needed a hand. That, and he was right. She did want him. More than she wanted her next breath. Her last relationship had been nearly a year ago and she’d been flying solo ever since. She craved a little physical contact in the worst way. So much so that she found herself thinking about him and the way he smiled and smelled and looked so indescribably good. And all when she should have been thinking about the website and how they were going to make their quota.

Yep, she had a craving, all right. One that wasn’t going to go away unless she satisfied it in a major way.

“I’m staying at the Lost Gun Motel,” she heard herself murmur.

Something dark and dangerous and oh so mesmerizing sparked in his violet eyes. “Well, what do you know? So am I.” He opened the car door. “My pickup’s just right down the row.” His grin faded and a look of pure determination carved his expression. “Let’s go.”

Warning bells clamored in her head, but the only thing she seemed conscious of was the frantic beat of her heart.

The excitement.

The anticipation.

The need.

“Just so we’re clear,” she managed to say despite the heat zipping up and down her spine, “this is just sex. We won’t be exchanging phone numbers or going out on a date or anything like that.”

He nodded. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“I’m not interested in getting to know you as a person. This is just physical.”

He nodded. “Purely physical.”

She squelched an unexpected rush of disappointment at his words and concentrated on the trembling in her hands and the desire coiling in her belly. “Then lead the way.”