Corralled
Authors: Lorelei James
a blacktop cowboys novel
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LORELEI JAMES
a signet eclipse book
Praise for the Novels of
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“The down-
and- dirty, rough-
and- tumble Blacktop Cowboys
kept me up long past my bedtime. Scorchingly hot, wickedly naughty.”
—Lacey Alexander, author of
What She Needs
“Hang on to your cowboy hats because this book is scorching hot!” —
Romance Junkies
“Definitely a cross- your- legs- and- squeeze kind of book . . . sexy and highly erotic.”
— TwoLips Reviews
“Incredibly hot.”
— The Romance Studio
“[A] wild, sexy ride.”
— Romantic Times
“Plenty of steamy love scenes that will have you reaching for your own hottie!”
— Just Erotic Romance Reviews
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a blacktop cowboys novel
9
LORELEI JAMES
a signet eclipse book
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Copyright © Lorelei James, 2010
All rights reserved
SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data James, Lorelei.
Coralled: a blacktop cowboys novel/Lorelei James.
p. cm.
ISBN 1-101-45852-6
I. Title.
PS3610.A4475C67 2010
813'.6—dc22
2010010433
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
publisher’s note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third- party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
9
To all the cowboys and cowgirls who follow the black roads
and back roads in pursuit of that gold buckle,
and along the way provide hours of entertainment
for rodeo fans such as me
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4
crewing two guys doesn’t make you a slut.”
Lainie Capshaw darted a quick glance at the crowd in Bucky’s Tavern. Luckily none of her coworkers— her male coworkers—lurked about. “Maybe you could’ve said that a little louder, Tanna.
I don’t think they heard you on the dance floor.”
“
Puh- lease
. The men in this joint are too busy gawking at the cocktail waitress with the watermelon- size tits to be eavesdropping on us.” Tanna sucked down a healthy swig of beer. “Twenty bucks says ol’ monster jugs pops a strap in the next ten minutes.”
“No dice. If I take that bet, you’ll sneak up behind her and slice the damn strap just so you can win.”
“You’re no fun.” Tanna sighed dramatically. “I’m bored.”
Lainie rolled her eyes. A bored Tanna was a dangerous Tanna.
“So let’s talk about Lainie’s lewd love life.”
“Let’s not.”
Tanna wagged her finger. “Ah, ah, ah. Suck it up, chickie. You walk the walk, you gotta talk the talk. Besides, who cares if you’re boning two guys? Cowboys are notorious for having a different buckle bunny every night, in every podunk rodeo town on the circuit. It pisses me off there’s still a double standard for women.”
LORELEI JAMES 9
“True. But . . .”
“But what?” Tanna looked at her quizzically. “You aren’t feeling guilty, are you?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Wouldn’t you?”
“Hell, no.”
Bull. Lainie called Tanna’s bluff. “So if the buff babe in the yellow shirt sauntered over and said, ‘I wanna screw your brains out against my truck right now,’ you’d follow him out into the parking lot without question?”
“Or hesitation. Well, besides checking my purse for condoms.”
“Even when you’re already making time with that studly bulldogger from Austin?” Lainie challenged.
Tanna planted her elbows on the table. “I’d do it in a heartbeat, Lainie. What would
you
do if both your men showed up here tonight?”
Wet myself.
“Umm . . . I’d probably run.”
“Like a contest to see who wanted you more? Whoever catches you first wins?”
Good Lord. Talk about an overactive sense of drama. “No.
More like running from my problem.”
“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me. Two sexy men angling to thrill you between the sheets.” Tanna smiled brazenly. “Or against the bathroom stall, in Kyle’s case.”
Whoo- ee. Just thinking about the hot tryst with Kyle still fried Lainie’s circuits. Never in her life had she warranted an I- need-you- right- fucking- now bout of raunchy monkey sex. So yeah, it’d earned her bragging rights. Even been- there- done- that Tanna had been impressed by Lainie’s balls- to- the- wall behavior.
Tanna’s cell phone vibrated on the tabletop. She squinted at the number and snapped, “ ’Bout time, you dumb bastard,” before she flounced out the side door, chewing the caller’s ass.
9 CORRALLED
Lainie hunched over the table to discourage any cowboys from asking her to dance. Probably an unnecessary precaution, since tantalizing Tanna usually garnered that type of male attention, not her.
Which was why it was so twisted that Lainie had captured the interest of not one, but two men. Two very hot, very alpha men on two different circuits.
Lainie liked working the rodeo circuits, even though the pay was crap. As a med tech for Lariat Sports Medicine, she split her time between the two largest rodeo organizations: the Cowboy Rodeo Association, known as the CRA, and the Extreme Bull Showcase, known as EBS.
The CRA was comprised of rough stock events: bareback, saddle bronc, and bull riding; as well as timed events: calf roping, team roping, steer wrestling— also known as bulldoggin’— and barrel racing. The EBS had just one event— bull riding.
The CRA bull riders didn’t compete in the EBS and vice versa.
Which was how Lainie ended up with a hot cowboy hookup on both the CRA and the EBS.
Fraternizing with cowboys could be career suicide for a woman in the male- dominated sport, especially when her job was to examine those glorious bodies. Lainie prided herself on avoiding the sexual temptation for damn near two years.
Until she’d met Hank Lawson.
She’d encountered the intense CRA bullfighter after he’d pulled his Achilles tendon during a CRA event and grudgingly limped into medical services. After she’d fixed him up, he asked her out on a date. Lainie refused— tempting as it’d been. Not only was Hank a hundred percent real Wyoming cowboy who handled bulls with ease and panache, but at six- three, with inky black hair and ruggedly masculine features, he embodied tall, dark, and handsome.
LORELEI JAMES 9
She kept refusing until Hank invited her to dance at a sponsors’ dinner. A simple dance— what could it hurt?
If she appreciated Hank’s moves in the arena, his moves on the dance floor were equally fine. Whenever hard- bodied Hank studied her with those eyes the color of new denim, she experienced a rush of adrenaline that must have been equal to spending eight seconds astride a two- thousand- pound bull.
Two weeks later, Hank asked her to two- step at another rodeo event. Too much wine and too much Hank went straight to her head. One slow dance led them directly to Hank’s motel room for a little mattress dancing.
Revisiting that romp with Hank caused Lainie’s thighs to clench with want. Intense concentration and instinctual reaction were the hallmarks of good bullfighters, and Hank had both in spades. No surprise his single- mindedness carried over into the bedroom.
The man took his own sweet time making love; it was as maddening as it was arousing. Leisurely undressing her. Running his work- roughened fingers over every inch of her bare skin. Kissing everywhere his hands roamed. Wringing at least two explosive orgasms from her before he rode her hard and fast, or slow and sweet.
As phenomenal as the sex was, Hank rarely deviated from missionary position. Even if Lainie started out on top showing off her excellent riding skills, she’d end up underneath Hank at the big finish. She’d shoved aside her niggling doubts about Hank’s lack of sexual spontaneity because he made her come so many times she saw stars.
So why had she hooked up with bull rider Kyle Gilchrist from the EBS circuit? True, Kyle and Hank were opposites. Physically, Kyle was wiry rather than overly muscular. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, not intensity. With Kyle’s blond locks and golden facial hair, he resembled a Viking.
9 CORRALLED
After taking a year off due to knee surgery, Kyle returned to the EBS with a vengeance. He’d started dropping by the sports medicine room to chat, in the guise of having his previous knee injury reexamined. Very polite. Very much interested in showing her in explicit detail how a modern- day Viking would utterly ravish her.
Her resistance lasted two months. The square- jawed, sloe- eyed sweet talker had literally charmed the pants right off her in a bathroom stall at Denny’s outside Chula Vista. That first weekend she’d had sex with Kyle six times— not once in missionary position.
It’d been freeing. Fun. Hot as sin . . . until the weekend ended.
Away from the temptation of Kyle’s consuming kisses, she questioned whether she’d become as loose and easy as the buckle bunnies trailing after the circuit cowboys.
But mostly Lainie wondered whether she could juggle both men at the same time.
She and Hank hadn’t discussed exclusivity. For all she knew, Hank could be sleeping with half the barrel racers on the CRA circuit. Kyle hadn’t demanded promises either. Given Kyle’s charm and good looks, she doubted he spent his nights alone watching Country Music Television.
So it wasn’t the “cheating” factor that bothered her. It was the fact that she really liked both men and she didn’t know who she’d pick if she had to choose.
Luckily, Lainie was in the catbird seat for a while. In the big world of professional rodeo, the EBS and CRA circuits rarely intersected geographically. Chances were slim she’d run into Hank if she was with Kyle or vice versa.
Feeling a little cocky, she sipped her beer.
Lainie’s smugness lasted all of thirty seconds before two roughskinned hands covered her eyes and a deep, sexy male voice murmured, “Guess who.”
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LORELEI JAMES 9
Kyle Gilchrist could not believe his luck. Mel was here. Right here.
Her wild curls tickling his cheek. Her powdery scent teasing his nose. The sight of her lithe little body hardened his cock.
And to think he’d dreaded spending the eve of his CRA debut in some dive bar in Lamar, Colorado.
Cool fingers circled his wrists. “Kyle?”
He removed his hands and spun the bar stool, forcing Mel to face him. “Hey, sugar. Surprise.”
“Oh, my God. It is you. What are you doing here? This isn’t your circuit.”
“Came in to have a beer and coerce a pretty woman into dancin’ with me. And look who I found first thing— the prettiest lady I know.” Kyle’s palms slid down her bare arms to grasp her fingers.
“Come on.” Allowing her no chance to argue, he tugged her to the dance floor, right into the thick of the crowd.
“Kyle, this isn’t a good idea. What if—”
“It’s the best idea I’ve had in weeks. Come on. Admit it. You missed me.”