Читать книгу A Cowboy In Paradise - Shana Gray - Страница 11
ОглавлениеJIMI STOOD IN front of this mountain of man, staring up at him as he glowered down at her with an intensity that made her shiver. Her mind went nuts with the possibilities of all the good bad things they could do together. Something about this man made her want to be bad. Naughty. While not a prude about sex by any stretch of the imagination, it just wasn’t often that her body made the decision before her brain did.
His calm silence couldn’t hide the passion she saw brewing in his eyes. She wondered if he would be just as intense and quiet if they fucked. Yes, that was how she’d look at it. Not making love, no way. Love was something she’d given up on a long time ago. Anyone she’d ever loved had left her. But that hadn’t stopped her from searching for it—God, how she’d searched—and in all the wrong places, too. To distance herself from the unorthodox way she was raised had been her driving force. She’d navigated through the concrete jungle of New York City’s fashion world and made it. At times, though, her past came back to haunt her, like it seemed to be doing here, today. So many little reminders. It was unsettling.
She didn’t feel guilty for seeking out men she could influence, manage to her liking. It meant she didn’t have to let her guard down. It was purely physical. No entanglements. No talks of the future. Just the present. She’d learned long ago that the only person she could trust and count on was herself.
Jimi eyed this bad boy in front of her. He clearly fell into the physical-satisfaction category, and for a moment she wondered if he would be putty in her hands. His gentlemanly nature wasn’t something she was accustomed to and would likely be his weakness.
“What kind of name is Jimi?” His deep and velvety voice captivated her. It held a hint of cowboy twang, which she liked.
“My parents were old hippies, commune types. They had a thing for Jimi Hendrix.”
“Is that so? Then I expect you had the most unusual upbringing.”
Jimi couldn’t believe she’d told him that, and without any thought at all. It just tumbled out of her mouth. Usually she gave a bullshit story that they named her Benjamina and never ever said her parents were hippies. That usually led to all kinds of questions that she refused to answer. But he zeroed right in on what she needed to hide the most. Her upbringing and fallout from it. Surprisingly, he didn’t inquire further or say anything more, and she hoped to quell any future questions.
“To say the least. Something that I try to forget.”
He nodded and glanced down at her feet. “I guess some things are hard to leave behind.”
She furrowed her brows and wondered what he was talking about, until she looked down at her bare toes. No way would she admit he was right. She’d buried her feelings deep where her childhood was concerned, but it seemed some things were hard to shake. “No. It’s something I have most definitely left behind. My suitcase didn’t arrive with me, so I’m at a loss for footwear other than my heels. Which appear to be completely inappropriate for this wedding trip.”
“Ah, you’re the one.”
Jimi furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
“The one with no bags. The one that thought this destination wedding was at a beach. I barely recognized you.”
Now he was making fun of her. She let go of his hand and was struck by the odd emptiness and feeling of distance that replaced the zing she’d felt from him just moments ago. The warmth of his fingers gone, a shiver ran through her even with the Hawaiian heat pressing down on them. She frowned, not liking how off balance he’d suddenly made her feel.
“It was my fault for not paying more attention. The norm for destination weddings is usually on the beach. At a resort. The last thing I’d expect here is a destination wedding on a ranch.” She waved her hand to indicate her surroundings and nearly smacked one of the horses on the nose. The horse snorted and tossed his head, startling Jimi. She jumped and let out a cry when her bare feet landed on sharp stones, making her stumble. She used the opportunity and in that moment decided to go with stepping up her game. So she let herself fall headlong into the cowboy. “Ow.”
She was confident he’d catch her. She expected no less from this gentlemanly cowboy.
“Hey there, whoa.”
She clutched at his arms, trying not to notice the strength under her fingers. At the same time, he wrapped his arms around her. Tight.
Regardless of whether she’d instigated this little event, she really had hurt her foot.
“Oh, my God, it feels like my foot shredded on glass.” Yet the pain in her feet paled with the powerful response she had to him as he gathered her close.
“Exactly why you shouldn’t be trotting around here without shoes on. Regardless if you’re a hipster or not.”
“I’m not a hipster! All right...enough. My feet are crying.” The cowboy swung her into his arms. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“Taking you to fix your foot.”
Jimi halfheartedly struggled in his arms, but the way she fit against his wide chest was far too comfortable. And wasn’t it just where she wanted to be? Her foot was stinging, but the warmth of his body almost had her forgetting about it. “You know I’m quite capable of getting to my tent.”
“I’m sure you are. But I don’t need you leaving the scent of blood everywhere. Besides, the cuts will get full of dirt.”
He took a path behind the rows of tents. She was glad he kept out of sight of other guests, because she already felt stupid enough with her dumb comments earlier. Jimi decided to just enjoy being carried. It wasn’t every day a girl was in strong, muscular arms. She looped her hand behind his neck. His hair tickled her knuckles and she looked up, seeing under the wide brim of his cowboy hat for the first time. She swallowed when he looked down at her. All thought and words vanished under the heat of his gaze. And when he smiled—oh, God, when he smiled—she liquefied inside. What had she been thinking? No way would he ever be putty in her hands. Jimi feared it was she who would be putty in his hands.
He shouldered his way through a tent flap and Jimi glanced around. “This isn’t my tent.”
“I know.” He set her down on a cot that looked surprisingly cozy and was very comfortable.
“Why am I here? I wanted to go to my tent.” She was grappling with her rioting emotions, and being carried by him had thrown her totally off balance.
He pulled a chair in front of her, then turned around to a chest-high cabinet. “Does your tent have the first-aid kit?”
“Oh. I could have washed my foot off well enough,” she argued rather unconvincingly.
“I’m sure you could’ve. But somehow you leapt into my arms, so I figured you wanted me to take care of things.”
“I did not leap into your arms!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Why did she feel defensive? Right from the minute she’d laid eyes on him hours ago up until now he’d had her completely off-kilter.
“Lift your foot,” he instructed.
She did and watched in fascination as he cradled her heel in his big, tanned hands. He was so gentle as he tended her.
“Is it bad?” If it was, part of her hoped she might have to head back down for stitches. The other part wasn’t so sure. He took off his hat and set it beside her on the bed, so close to her fingers that she touched the brim. A thrill ran through her. It was almost like touching a part of him. Almost.
He raised her foot a little higher and peered underneath. His dark hair appeared longer without his hat, and when he tipped his head, a strand fell across his forehead.
“Nope. Just a little cut. Nothing a Band-Aid and antiseptic won’t take care of.” He looked up at her and she drew in a breath.
He had the most intriguing eyes. Neither was the same color, but a myriad of sea greens in one, and arctic blues in the other. Jimi leaned forward slightly, as if magnetized to him.
“Your eyes.”
“What about them?” He held her foot a little tighter.
“They’re beautiful.”
Jimi was surprised when he burst out laughing. The deep booming sound filled the tent and she blinked. What was so funny?
“They’re just eyes, hemahema.”
“But so unique.”
“I can thank my mother for them.” His smile was wide, and Jimi saw his Hawaiian ancestry in the bold and strong features, dark hair and deeply tanned skin.
“Was she Hawaiian?”
“My grandfather was. Now, let’s get this foot cleaned up.”
“What’s hemahema?” Jimi asked. “You said that a couple minutes ago.”
“Clumsy, awkward.”
“Humph. Nice.”
He chuckled and then spoke in a low voice she could barely hear. “Your clumsiness got you in my arms, though. Didn’t it?”
He glanced at her from under his dark eyebrows and her world tilted. The corner of his mouth lifted on one side and she was enchanted. That simple, seductive glance was full of so many promises. Promises she had every intention of making him keep.
“Yes, it did,” Jimi whispered. “And I don’t even know your name.”
“Shall we keep it a mystery?”
Jimi gave him a seductive smile. “That would make it very interesting.”
He looked back at her foot. Jimi drew in a soft breath as he carefully cleaned the cut, applied ointment and then a bandage before glancing at her. Jimi’s heart fluttered when he smiled, tightening his fingers a little more on her foot.
“All done. You’ll live.”
Sensing the impending end to their intimate moment, Jimi decided it was time to make her move. She slid forward and, not breaking eye contact with him, reached out and curled her fingers around his neck. His muscles under her fingers were hard and his skin warm. As if her fingers fused to him and captured his energy, their connection crackled with electricity. He seemed to resist against the pressure of her hand. Jimi was insistent. When she pulled him toward her, she saw a myriad of emotions race across his face, and for a moment she thought he would pull away. But he didn’t and gave her that crooked smile again. Her gaze dropped to his lips. His enticing and oh-so-kissable lips. Lips she wanted to taste, feel, explore.
When he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her, Jimi gasped. He curled his fingers around her ankles and pulled her closer, holding her ankles behind him before letting go. Jimi hooked them together around his hips and shivered as he ran his hands over her calves, along her thighs, and grabbed her waist. Jimi wiggled to reduce the distance between them. The urgency to feel him next to her had her strung tighter than a drum.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered, and lowered his head so his mouth brushed tantalizingly close to her earlobe.
“I—I know.” Jimi could barely form words, he had her so spun.
“I like that.” His lips pressed in the curve of her neck.
“Oh, you’re killing me.”
She moaned as his lips tickled along her neck, his breath warming her skin until she thought she might melt right into him. He was everything male. His essence enveloped her and she craved more of him. A totally random thought flitted through her brain. I’m made for him. Then it was gone when his hands roamed over her, stealing all coherent thought. One hand went up to the back of her neck, under her hair to swipe it aside, the other down to her butt. She gasped as he pulled her tight, his fingers digging almost painfully into her flesh. But that pain brought such sweet pleasure she wanted more.
Jimi tightened her thighs around his hips, pressing into him, until her breasts were mashed against the unbelievably hard chest. He groaned and she thrilled to the sound. His fingers thrust into her hair, fisting the strands, and the sting in her scalp was another welcome burst of pain that almost kept her grounded.
He pulled her head back gently, forcing her to look at him. Jimi was at an utter loss for words. She wanted him, and he gave every indication he wanted her, the evidence of that pressing hotly between her thighs and only separated by the layer of their jeans. Jimi tipped her hips and sighed when he responded by thrusting into her.
“I can tell you’re going to be all sorts of trouble,” he growled.
“Is that a good or bad thing?” Jimi murmured, not breaking their gaze.
Her heart hammered so hard it hurt. This man—she still didn’t know his name—held her hair tight while his other hand scorched a path from her ass up her side. He hesitated ever so briefly with a gentle caress at the side of her breast before cupping her face, holding her in his large, warm, rough...but so tender hands. She welcomed the control he was taking. Needed him to force her to let go. Her brain shut down when he pulled her head to him and crashed his lips over hers.
* * *
DALLAS TASTED HER as if a starved man. Her lips were soft and deliciously plump. He found her tongue with his, which was his undoing. Heat erupted inside him, flowing through his veins like thick, heavy lava. The sweetness of her mouth made him want more.
Her arms tightened around his neck. Dallas took her face between his hands, holding her firm. No way was he letting this seductress out of his arms just yet. Dallas opened his eyes to watch her, keeping his mouth fused with hers. The strands of her hair twined with his fingers, so palupalu, soft, he wanted to draw the curls over his face. He inhaled, taking in her scent. Fresh and clean, with a hint of flowers. Her eyes were closed, and he lifted his mouth from hers and waited to see if she’d open her eyes. She didn’t, and he decided the eloquent curve of her brow needed to be kissed. Her gold lashes fanned across her pale skin. Never had he seen anything more beautiful. Sexy. And wanton.
Dallas nuzzled her under the sharp arch of her brow. She sighed. His cock swelled when she wiggled closer, tightening her thighs around him. He could easily push her back on his cot. Flick open the buttons of her shirt. Whisk off the jeans and take his pleasure. Pleasure she seemed very willing to provide.
Pleasure he’d be more than willing to reciprocate.
Jimi leaned into his fingers when he teased the buttons open. She trembled and he yearned for her. This strange and beguiling city girl who did not fit into the wilds out here. Or with a man like him. Perhaps that was what made her so much more tantalizing. Why not have a vacation fling? What happened in Kona stayed in Kona. No one need know. It would be over after the wedding. He’d keep it secret, knowing he was breaking his own rules.
A shiver rumbled through his muscles when her fingers tracked across his back, pressing and stroking as if she were trying to imprint him. Then they locked behind his neck and she burrowed against his chest. His hand was trapped between them in the wonderful firm softness of her breasts. Their clothes were in the way and he wanted to rip them off her in this frantic moment of passion. Period. Nothing remotely close to making love. Yet, if he thought of it as lust, an unsettled feeling grew in him.
Dallas pushed it aside. Being with a beautiful, alluring woman with no expectations or ties was just how to lose himself. There was no crime in that.
Jimi sighed as he nibbled the edge of her jaw. Dallas growled in to her and inhaled her wild and exotic scent that was just like his island. He’d learned long ago to seek out those special little places on a woman—it was so worth the extra care—and he found the delicate spot just behind her ear. Jimi’s body went lax in his arms. She ran hands down his back, leaving a trail of heat that spiked into fire when she linked her thumbs through the belt loops and pulled him to her. He settled between her thighs, her heat searing him. Sound dimmed. All he heard was the thumping of his heart and her soft, breathy sighs. Jimi dropped her head back, giving him more access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity to search for her trigger spot, smiling when she shivered as he licked along her collarbone.
Voices pierced his lust haze. He tried to ignore them, but when he recognized the laughter, Dallas swore and sat bolt upright, pushing her away. Regret washed through him at the confusion on Jimi’s face and he wanted to explain but couldn’t. She stood and shoved her hands into the jeans pockets.
She was mad—that was good. It made things easier. He’d been ready to take it just a little too far with her. Now wasn’t the time or the place. He stepped back and tried not to notice her passion-filled gaze, now tinged with anger. Or the way her hair was mussed and the plump pout of her mouth...all beckoning him like a siren, calling him back to her.
“What...?” Her voice was soft and sultry, but he heard anger around the edges.
“You’d better leave.” Dallas did his best to keep his voice unemotional, but he sounded like a bullfrog croaking.
“What happened? I don’t understand.” Yep, she was mad.
Before he could answer, a loud, booming voice from outside the tent announced his brother.
“Dallas, you old dog, are you in there?”
Dallas stepped in front of Jimi to shield her while she fumbled with her shirt buttons. The tent flap was yanked aside and his brother filled the opening.
“Hey, bro! What the frig...” He gave a knowing nod, raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “...ahh.”
Jimi stepped around Dallas and he bit back a smile when he saw her lift her chin and shake her head, making her curls flutter around her shoulders like a lioness’s mane. She flickered her gaze to Dallas, but he couldn’t read the expression. It was as if a shutter had closed, hiding the light that had been shining from her only moments before. Strangely, it saddened him. He turned to Tucker and sent him a warning look.
“Excuse me.” Jimi took a step and winced. Dallas reached for her elbow, but she shook him off.
“Don’t let me interrupt things,” Tucker said, his mouth curving up on one side.
“Yeah, yeah, enough of that. Tucker, this is one of our guests. She cut her foot on a stone and I was just doctoring her up.”
“Yes.” Jimi looked down at her foot. “It doesn’t pay to not wear shoes around this godforsaken place. What a big mistake it was coming here.” Without a second look, she pushed past both the men and sailed out the tent opening.
They watched her go and remained silent for a few seconds. Tucker turned to Dallas and burst out laughing.
“What the hell was that all about?”
Dallas thinned his lips and glared at his brother. Ever the loud one with no tact. “Nothing,” Dallas snapped. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his actions to his brother. The less he knew the better, and no way would he let on what had almost happened.
“Well, bro, it certainly didn’t look like nothing to me.”
Dallas turned his back on him and grabbed the first-aid paraphernalia, holding it to Tucker as proof, then put it back where it belonged.
Dallas ushered Tucker to the tent opening. Time for him to leave. “Wasn’t sure you’d actually show.”
“You know me—I’m like a bad penny. Always turning up.”
“You got that right. When you’re needed, you’re not here. When you’re not needed, you turn up and usually with complications.” Dallas followed Tucker from the tent. “So what brings you up here? Did you drive or ride?”
“Drove. I need to make myself scarce.”
Anxiety squeezed Dallas’s chest. “And you have to do that...why?” He’d had about enough of bailing his younger brother out of all the trouble he was good at getting himself into. Did he really want to know what he’d done this time?
“Oh, nothing. Just a little misunderstanding.” Tucker drew in a sigh and stopped, turning to face Dallas. “Do you really want to know?”
Dallas narrowed his eyes and planted his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared hard at his brother before answering. “Unless it’s got something to do with jail, murder or losing the ranch, then no. Fair warning, though—don’t make a fool of yourself or the family. I’ve—we’ve—worked too hard to keep our upstanding reputation. I don’t need you to bring it down by doing anything stupid.”
The look that flashed through Tucker’s eyes wasn’t what Dallas expected. He saw relief, pain in them and something else...defeat? Ah, shit, maybe he did need to know. He was his brother, after all. Under his cavalier and crusty exterior, Tucker was a softy. To the bone. Dallas had been hard on him, hoping the tough love would work. Last thing he wanted was his brother to fall down the rabbit hole again. “Like I said. Not unless it falls into any of those categories. But know that I’m here for you.”
Tucker nodded and Dallas was relieved to see the stress ease a tiny bit from around Tucker’s eyes. “I brought the truck. A few bags straggled in and Larson sent up some more wedding trinkets.”
“More wedding crap? Take a look around—there’s enough lace and ribbons and girlie stuff to sink a ship. What more could possibly be needed?”
Tucker shrugged a shoulder. “Who the hell knows. It’s chick stuff. Anyway, we need to get it unloaded.”
Dallas followed his brother to the half-ton dually. The wranglers had unloaded most of the additional supplies and late luggage, and carried stuff into the storage tent under Samantha’s care. He checked the labels on the suitcases. Nothing for anyone named Jimi.
“Did Larson say anything about the other suitcase coming?”
Tucker shook his head. “She said something about a woman upset her bag hadn’t arrived.”
“Yeah, she’s already made her displeasure known. Hopefully it turns up in the morning,” Dallas muttered.
“So what’s first now?” Tucker inquired.
“We should get the coals lit. Easy dinner tonight—everything’s on the grill.” He checked his watch and then looked to the sky. “Probably should get the guests out to Bridge Rock. The first night is supposed to be a sunset-cocktail thing.”
“Seriously?” Tucker shook his head and gazed around the camp. “This really is a stretch for us, isn’t it?”
Dallas nodded in agreement. “All I can say is thank God for Samantha. I didn’t want any wedding responsibilities. This is important, though. If we can pull this off, it could open up a whole new niche for us. Weddings and glamping. I think there’s a market.”
Tucker gave him a skeptical look. “Where did you get that idea? I thought all brides wanted to be pampered, five-star, not roughing it like we are up here.”
Dallas shook his head. “Apparently not, according to Sam. If there’s a need, I will provide. Be warned and on your best behavior. Nothing is to go wrong. And no fraternizing, either.”
“What, moi? Fraternize?” Tucker gave him a devilish look, but Dallas kept his demeanor stern. Tucker had to understand the importance of professionalism, something Dallas would have to remind himself where Jimi was concerned.
“So who is this wedding planner?” Tucker asked.
“Haven’t you met Samantha Ray? She’s Larson’s friend.”
Tucker shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“They met at college, but she’s not like Larson at all.” Dallas looked over Tucker’s shoulder. “Well, speak of the devil.”
Tucker turned around as Samantha approached. She was a small thing. With red hair that hung in a riot of organized ringlets almost to her hips and pale blue eyes under ginger brows that easily drew you in, she exuded a serenity unlike Larson. Sam was calm, where Larson was wild.
“Well, well. No, I haven’t met her,” Tucker muttered in a low voice. “She might be worth a little bit of a chase.”
Dallas found that funny and chuckled. “I think she’d run you a merry chase, that’s for sure. She’s way out of your league, bro.”
Tucker ignored him, but Dallas saw the muscle in his jaw twitch, usually a sign he’d been offended. But sometimes the truth hurts and it needed to be heard.
“Hey, Sam, everything good?” Dallas asked.
“So far so good.” She gave a bright smile and turned to Tucker, sticking her hand out. “Hi, I’m Samantha, wedding planner extraordinaire.”
“Tucker, the evil brother of Larson and this paniolo here.”
Dallas watched him take Sam’s hand. They both fell silent and stared at each other for a little bit too long. Samantha’s Tinker Bell mannerisms were momentarily quiet as she gazed up at Tucker. Dallas looked from one to the other. He sensed the attraction between them. They were polar opposites.
“Right, then. Anything else we can help with or do you just want us to disappear?” Dallas nudged Tucker out of the way, which forced him to drop Sam’s hand. “Here, you take this last box, Tucker.” He pushed the box with his boot until it was between him and Sam.
“Um, thanks.” Sam’s gaze lingered on Tucker as she bent to reach for the box.
“No, let me. I insist.” Tucker reached and scooped it, hefting it into his arms. “Now, Miss Samantha, if you’ll just show me the way...”
Her smile was bright as she spun on her heel and walked off, fingers sweeping her phone, red curls bouncing jauntily. But not without a little side glance and cute smile at Tucker.
Dallas sighed as he watched the two of them stride off. He wondered what sort of catastrophe was waiting to rear up next.
