Beware of the Cowboy (2 page)

Finally, when he thought she wouldn’t be able to take any
more teasing, he’d slide lower, spread her with his thumbs and spear her tender
flesh with a pointed tongue. He’d lap at the soft lips and flick lightly over
her swollen clit. He’d make her beg. Push her past spikes of pleasure she’d
only ever imagined. But he wouldn’t let her come. He’d pull back, ease her
down. Again and again, he’d bring her to the brink of orgasm. Would she scream
his name or exhale a sexy sigh when he finally let her come?

Blake readjusted his jeans, slid back in the saddle to ease
the pressure on his crotch and turned back for one last look. Yep, he wanted to
push Liza past her limits, and he looked forward to discovering just where
those limits were.

Still watching the ranch hand, Liza took a steadying breath
as the cowboy rode away. All that gorgeous muscle had her rattled. She hadn’t
reacted to a man this strongly in a very long time—and wow, what a reaction!
The cowboy was stunning, with chaps tightly fitted over sturdy thighs, a faded
button-up denim shirt…and that dingy old hat was so cute the way it tilted just
to the right. He filled out every inch of the cotton and leather, leaving
little to a woman’s imagination. Shoulders, stomach and thighs sculpted from
years of throwing hay bales and riding fence lines. Ranch work does wonderful
things to a man’s physique. And she had almost lost her ability to bitch when
she got a look into those dark brown eyes as he’d held her. She realized with a
bit of shock that if the Deans weren’t her biggest clients, she might have let
the mess go without a word, sat back and simply admired the man while he caught
the colts. She shook herself and assessed the damage.

“Damn, what happened here?” Becky eyed the mess as she
walked down the aisle toward Liza. “The runner!” She had spent two days finding
someone to paint that thing. “What are you smiling about? The runner is ruined.
And what happened to the flowers?” She gestured to the altar.

Liza shook her head to clear her brain of the sexy man.
Dark, mysterious cowboy or not, they had some cleaning up to do. She shrugged
and motioned to the broken vases. “Spread out the other arrangements so the
missing ones aren’t as noticeable. Shorten the runner a bit and cut it off at
the tear. No one will ever notice.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes…why?” Liza asked, puzzled.

Becky eyed Liza for a minute then started to rearrange the
huge vases of pink and lavender roses on the right side of the altar while Liza
adjusted those on the left. “Because, Miss Perfectionist, you’re not having a
fit over this, whatever
this
is.” She nodded toward the broken vase at
her feet.

“Just a small problem with a couple of loose colts. Those
cowboys came and got them. They were just a few minutes too late to save the
flowers, though. You’d better check the hydrant on the left side too. One of
them took a bite out of the rhinestones.”

“Cowboys?” Her head shot up from the mess and scanned the
yard, seeing the two men heading around the backside of the barn, leading the
colts away. “Cute?”

“Oh yeah!” Liza pointed to a
Beware of the Dog
sign
tacked on the red wooden planks of the barn. “They need to change that sign to,
‘Beware of the Cowboy’, ’cause that one’s a heartbreaker.”

“Wow, you’re checking out the hired hands? He must have been
something for you to go all doe-eyed on me.”

Liza collected the last of the big glass pieces on a stray
piece of fabric left over from the bows wrapped around the chair backs. “Here,
dump it all on here. We’ll get the rental people to come get the rest. I’ll
find us some scissors to fix the runner.” She started to head back into the
house. “And I’m
not
doe-eyed, I’m horny.”

“That cute? Sorry I missed them.”

Chapter Two

Liza gave herself a once-over in the mirror. She was still
feeling light and a little sexy after a good self-induced orgasm—accompanied by
fantasies of the dark-haired cowboy—while taking her shower. She’d decided to
leave off the shirt and wear only the slacks and vest from her black pantsuit for
the rehearsal dinner. The organizing was now complete and all she had to do was
enjoy the weekend. Oh, she’d have last-minute details and decisions to make as
the festivities proceeded, but the last two weeks of hard-core planning,
ordering and constant consultations with Bobbie Dean were over.

After getting slightly lost in the immense mansion while
trying to find the huge dining room, Liza was exasperated but still smiling as
she greeted a couple who had been clients in the past before heading for the
bar. Yep, things were going well. They’d already made over forty thousand
dollars for the SPCA and the write-up in this morning’s
Dallas Herald
had lauded the occasion, predicting it to be another winning charity event
hosted by Main Events.

Liza savored moments like this one. She looked around the
room at the elite of Dallas society, all laughing, talking and enjoying
themselves because of her efforts. And in the coming months, it was likely that
many of them would be clamoring to secure her services. It was becoming very
chic to have a DeLane-planned wedding or party.

At times like this she could relax just a bit and let the
past rest.

She glanced down to the toes of her designer shoes. The
marble flooring beneath was so polished she could see the reflection of the
chandelier. How different her life was now. There had been no marble in the
mobile homes she had lived in as a foster child, no glittering crystal
chandeliers…

“Liza, Liza!” Bobbie called, halting her slip into the past.
“Come over here sweetie, I’ve got someone you just have to meet.”

Bobbie Dean was standing in a small group, partially blocked
by a large pair of shoulders. Liza quickly gazed longingly at the bar before
heading toward Mrs. Dean.

“Honey, I don’t think you’ve ever met my son, Blake.
Blakely, honey, this is Ms. DeLane.”

The shoulders turned as Liza stuck out her hand—and her chin
dropped. The cowboy from this afternoon stood with his hand out and a teasingly
smug smile. The absence of a hat revealed unruly dark brown curls, his strong
jaw was now cleanly shaven, and the worn cotton shirt and jeans had been
replaced with silk and linen. “We’ve met, Mother.” He took her hand. “Nice to
see you again.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Dean. I—”

“Don’t mention it,” he cut in smoothly. “I like you all
bossy.” He turned to his mother. “More wine?”

“Yes, dear. Liza? Chardonnay, I believe?”

Doing her best not to blush from embarrassment, Liza nodded
then turned to Mrs. Dean as Blake walked away.

“Mrs. Dean, I’m so sorry…” Liza steadied her shaking hands. Once
more, she had proved to herself that no matter how good a working relationship
she had with the Deans, she was still a hired hand. She desperately hoped that
Blake Dean had not told his mother how she had practically thrown herself at a
man she thought was a ranch hand.

Now that she knew who he was, the resemblance to his parents
was obvious. How could she not have seen it before? Probably because she was
too busy drooling over him. That thought hit her and she swallowed, hard. How
could she have mistaken the Deans’ son for a ranch hand?

“I should have known he was your son,” she finished lamely.

Bobbie raised her painted-on eyebrows, her shocking pink
dress exaggerating her fair complexion. Her teased, chemically blonde hair was
well coifed even though a few years out of style. Her round face was always
wearing a smile and her eyes twinkled as if carrying some special secret known
only to her. “Sorry, dear? You mean about fussing at him over his ponies?” She
patted Liza on the arm. “Don’t be. He told me the story just as you came in. I
couldn’t resist teasing you a bit.”

“I don’t usually…fuss at my clients’ children, Mrs. Dean. I
assure you—”

“Goodness, dear. Mrs. Dean? Bobbie, please. And I’d have
skinned the boy alive had I been there. You showed remarkable restraint if you
ask me.”

Liza considered how close she’d come to showing no restraint
at all, and couldn’t help repeating the apology. “I’m very sorry, Bobbie.”

“Really, my dear, stop apologizing. It’s good for him.” Her
smile widened as she gave Liza another reassuring pat. “Very good for him.”

Someone announced dinner from across the room before Liza
could determine if Bobbie meant that
she
would be good for Blake or
being fussed at was good for Blake. Surely, it was the latter.

* * * * *

At dinner Blake was seated across and one person down from
Liza. Throughout the seven-course meal, she watched his big, rough-looking
hands expertly navigate the silverware with grace and expertise. His dark brown
hair was shiny and he’d obviously made a gallant but fruitless effort to comb
it out of his face. His eyes were coffee brown, and he wore a lived-in, rugged
face, devastatingly handsome, without the qualities of a pretty boy. Blake Dean
was all man.

His mother may have been extravagant in dress and personality,
but underneath she had a subtle class. It showed in her home and she’d
obviously passed that trait on to her son. He was polite, well mannered and
graceful, not at all like the rough and tussled ranch hand Liza had bitched at
earlier in the afternoon. The scoundrel hadn’t told her who he was as she
lectured and fussed at him. He must think her a fool.

The sound of her name brought Liza out of her thoughts.
Blake and several other guests were looking at her. She felt a blush creep up
her chest as she realized she had been caught daydreaming while staring at his
hands.

“After seeing your handiwork with my rope this afternoon,
I’m guessing you’ve spent some time around horses?” Blake asked.

The double entendre was not lost on Liza. “I’ve handled my
share of ropes, Mr. Dean. It’s been a while, but that sort of thing stays with
you.” Maybe he didn’t think her such a fool after all.

Those brown eyes widened just a touch. “Lived on a ranch?”

“I wouldn’t call it a ranch.” She heard the unintentional
sobering of her tone as the memories rushed her. Painful memories of being
moved from one piece of crap trailer park to another, her fate in the hands of
an overworked caseworker who didn’t know Liza any better than the other kids in
the system…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the clinking of a spoon
against crystal from the head of the table. She looked around the absurdly long
table at the wealthy and powerful of Dallas.

Blake watched sadness flit across her green eyes. He was
relieved when no one pursued the subject. Watching her tip her glass after his
mother’s toast, he wondered if that sadness was something permanent she kept
hidden under that businesswoman veneer, or if he’d simply misread the
expression. Then he wondered why he needed to know.

At first, Blake thought this doggie wedding was another one
his mother’s wild whims and flatly refused to have anything to do with it.
After listening to his mother rattle on and on about Liza, and how they managed
to turn it all into a charity event, he’d relented and agreed to participate.

Looking at the way that tight vest hugged Liza’s breasts,
Blake was glad his mother was a tad bit crazy. He just needed this speech to be
over so he could put his plan for the rest of the evening into action.

After dinner, as the guests were moving into smaller
conversations in the living room and library, Blake cornered Liza and her
assistant. “So, Liza, what do ya say to a tour of the Dean ranch?”

She looked from her assistant to him. “That would be nice.
Your mother invited us for the entire weekend. Maybe tomorrow? We’ll be
finished with the cleanup from the wedding by early afternoon.”

“I was thinking a little sooner that that. I was thinking…”
He stepped closer to her, ran his fingers over her bare shoulder and held her
attention with his eyes. “I was thinking now.”

This close, Liza got a good look at his features. He had a
small scar across the bottom of his chin and the hair that had been tucked
under his hat today was now slicked back on the sides. The loose curls on top
ran riot and tumbled over his forehead. He smelled lightly of expensive cologne
and his suit jacket hugged his shoulders almost as well as the old denim shirt
had.

What exactly were the cowboy’s motives? Was it a one-night
stand with the hired help? And…so what if it was? A ride around the ranch could
be fun. She could do this without letting herself get hurt. She could control
the situation and everything would be fine. Couldn’t she?

Liza peeked to the side to see Becky grinning madly.
Go
on
, her friend mouthed.

To hell with a raise, she needed to give Becky a
partnership.

She wanted to go, and why not? Becky was right—she needed to
loosen up and live a little for herself instead of the business. “But it’s dark
outside,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest in mock protest and
shifting a hip to the side.

“Exactly.” He took her arm and led her to the door.

* * * * *

“Where are we going? You know very well I can’t see the
ranch from here. And as cute as it is, I’m way too old to be making out in a
truck,” Liza said as Blake pulled the truck onto a dirt road that led away from
the barn.

“Don’t like surprises?” He didn’t look at her, but Liza
could see his smile in the dashboard lights.

She kicked off her shoes, put her feet on the dash and
leaned her head back so she could look out the window at the stars. The ranch
was huge and she was happy to bounce around the place in his truck. This was
what she needed, to ignore the businesswoman and remember what she was like
simply as a woman, to let herself have some fun and not feel like she was
neglecting her work. “Oh I like surprises, unless they embarrass me in front of
my clients.”

Blake chuckled. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist. You
were so sexy ordering me around like I was just another hand.”

“So, spoiled rich boy likes to play at being a ranch hand
too?”

He slowed the truck to a stop and turned to face her. She
was teasing, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help asking, “Would you be here
now if I was just a ranch hand?”

She smiled at him. Actually, if he were just another hand
this would be so much easier. A simple quickie and then back to work. But Blake
Dean—hot, sexy and rich Blake Dean—was another thing altogether. Would he still
want to be with
her
once he knew her background?

She glanced at him across the cab and for just a second,
Liza saw vulnerability in his eyes. In his position, it would be hard to know
if women liked him for his money or himself. How would he ever really know?

In a way, it was so much like her own fears. Foster parents’
motives aren’t always noble. That people use and discard other people was a
very hard lesson for a ten-year-old girl, but she had learned it well. True
motives are difficult to discern. She certainly hid hers.

Now all she had to do was decide what her motives were concerning
Blake. She could get really hurt by this cowboy if she let him get too close,
but she felt an overwhelming desire to indulge in what she’d been missing out
on for years. She wanted to hold him and love him and prove that she wanted him
just for him—not his money or his social status. Her body tingled with desire
as she looked at his forceful chin and those deliciously full lips.

“If you still had on those chaps…oh yeah, I’d still be
here.” Following her body’s demands and ignoring her usual caution, she leaned
over and lightly brushed her lips across his. They were soft and warm. She
inhaled his scent. God! She missed the scent of a man, and his was raw and
spicy. “When will we get to wherever it is we’re going, Blake?” She didn’t give
him a chance to answer before deepening the kiss, running her tongue across his
bottom lip and then sucking on it.

Letting her kiss him, Blake held one hand tight to the
steering wheel. He was usually the one to make the first move, but this filly
was making it clear she wanted him as much as he wanted her. When her tongue
swept over his lips a second time, he reached for her and opened his mouth,
letting his tongue meet hers. She tasted of red wine and apples. The feeling of
her tongue meeting his made him rock hard instantly. Turning to get a better
angle to devour her lips, he took her head in both hands and pushed his fingers
through her hair, combing through it to get it out of the ponytail that held
it. When he felt it fall free, he pulled away.

He watched her face as he spread her hair over her
shoulders. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see this loose.”

“Since this afternoon?”

“Nope, first time I saw you was at the last New Year’s bash.
You were with some skinny guy. Then a month or so back, I was working in town
when you came to see Dad.” He ran his finger across her eyebrow. “Oh, I’ve seen
you. I’ve watched you. But I was hooked when you tied that halter out of a
scrap of rope.”

Liza sat back in her seat, satisfied that he’d gotten her
message. “You like knots and rope, do ya?” She winked and put her feet back on
the dash.

“Somehow I always pictured you more of a city girl.” He put
the truck in gear and started back down the gravel road.

“I am now. But at one time I lived on a five-acre piece of
dust in the sticks, out west of Ft. Worth, near Benbrook.” She watched his
expression for any sign of condescension. She looked away when he only nodded.

“A big shot in Dallas is a long way from a kid on a
piece-of-dust farm in Benbrook.” This woman impressed him more by the second.
He glanced across the truck to see her smiling out the window. Good. He liked a
woman who knew her own worth.