Do Him Right (2 page)

“I do.” She flowed forward to press her breasts briefly
against his chest and wondered where her business manners had fled when she
added, “But I’m hungry now.” She struggled to look demure, for god sakes, when
all she really wanted to do was move closer into those muscular arms.

“No breakfast?” he asked.

“No.” She licked her lips and looked at his. “I ran out
early and wanted to be on time for you. It’s a three hour drive from San
Antonio.”

“Not good to starve,” he murmured, sounding far from
paternal as he braced her shoulders and pulled her so near they were flush
against each other from her rock-hard nipples to his long, steely shaft. “Are you
faint? In this heat, you’ve got to be good to yourself.”

She nodded, barely breathing. “I am. I mean…I do.”

“Let me help you take your jacket off.” His eyes sashayed
from her lips to her cleavage as his big hands gathered the fabric and slid it
down her arms.

She turned to let him have her coat. But when she faced him
again, he didn’t move away. Couldn’t, it seemed, as he bit his lower lip and
took in the size of her breasts then stepped backward.

“Drink your water.” He spun away from her, went back to take
his chair and examined the folder on his desktop. “Let’s talk about this, shall
we, Miz Carpenter?”

“Shana.”

“Shana,” he repeated slowly, squinting at her as if he were
determined to look only into her eyes. “Your proposal is a really fine one. Strong.
The budget’s good too. You’ve been direct and honest about what you can
accomplish with us way out here in no man’s land of west Texas. I like direct
and honest.”

Honest.
That’s exactly how she told herself she would
be with him. If he recognized her, if he asked about how and why she had
written what she did about him, she would say her peace, fair and square. Now
if honesty were to be served totally, she would have to declare how she wanted
him to gather her close, catch her to him like a second skin and pet her. She
pressed her cunt to the hard chair, her labia pulsing in pleasure. “Thank you.”

Her reason took flight.

I can’t get enough of you, Chet
, she’d tell him if
she ever got the chance to fall into bed with him.
I have never wanted
anyone like I need you.

I need you, too, baby
, he’d say while his strong
hands splayed against her back and crushed her breasts against his firm chest.
We’re
not talking about the past.
He’d loom above her and bend to kiss his way
down her throat to tongue her nipples. He’d pull them into the warm cavern of
his lush mouth and make them hard as stones.
We’re talking about now.
And
he’d take her other nipple and give it the same hot blessing.
We’re talking
about this.
He’d flick his tongue over her jeweled bellybutton ring.
This
rage of mine to be
here
.
He’d groan as he sank to his elbows and,
with careful fingertips, traced her seam, curled her heavy labia open and
licked her juicy folds with tender devotion.
You are so sweet, baby.
He’d
lave one lip with a slow and careful tongue.
Your cream is thick as syrup.
He’d love the length of her other lip then slide one blunt finger up inside her
cunt.
Your pussy tastes like August peaches. And you are all mine. Let me
show you.
And he’d curl two more fingers up inside her greedy little
channel.
I’m gonna fuck you now. Long and slow and easy.
To prove it to
her, he’d lift her hips and press up inside her in one, long glide to ecstasy.
He’d set a rhythm, steady and rigid and maddening. He’d tweak her nipples.
Circle his thumb over her clit.
You’re such a beautiful woman, Shana darlin’.
Inside and out.

She would cry out in delight, his words freeing her of how
she’d hurt him.
You forgive me
, she’d whisper in wonder and curl into
his powerful, hot body after their climax.

His green eyes became glass now, and he frowned. “Forgive
you? Why should I?”

Jolted, Shana glanced around at the dilapidated room. She
wasn’t in her bed with him, but here in his office. From the looks of him, he
appeared shaken and wary of her while he wore an indifferent mask of a cool
businessman.

“Forgive me…” She tried to repair her blunder, pushing back
regret that her fantasy was wishful thinking. Ducking her head, searching
inside her briefcase, she fumbled and found her papers. “Forgive me for
bringing only one copy of the proposal.”

“That’s okay,” he said, pursing his lips and scowling down
at the open folder on his desk. “Where shall we begin, Miz Carpenter?”

Here on your desk. Me under you. You inside me.

“The name’s Shana,” she got out on a smile, scolding herself
for her irrepressible dreaming. She powered up her professional forty-watt
grin, trying to destroy the chill she got from his no-nonsense efficiency. If
she was going to close this deal, she needed to warm him up.
If I don’t go
up in flames first.

His eyes locked on hers. He was playing tough again. Was he
testing her?

“Ah yeah, right, Shana,” he agreed at last. He hitched his
mouth up to one side as his sultry green eyes darted to her breasts where her
traitorous nipples blossomed at his regard. In a millisecond, he shook his head
and his gaze shot back up toward hers. “Good way to begin, with first names.”
But he didn’t say,
you can call me Chet
. Instead he said, “I’ve read
your proposal through a couple of times.”

“Good.”
You should.
“To get the Hayward Rodeo into
the public consciousness, a full-scale PR campaign is what you need.”

“Agreed. Starting yesterday too.” He sat forward, folding
his hands on his desk and looking her straight in the eyes.

She inhaled, overjoyed. “Absolutely.”

“Not.”

She blinked. Not understanding, not seeing.

Her gaze fell over his stern features. She’d never seen him
as a negotiator before. This look was so different from the charming cowboy and
the champion competitor. This man was feral, determined and every feature from
the jut of his cheekbones, to the symmetry of his square jaw and the fullness
of his let-me-kiss-you-all-over lips became stone barriers to her goals.

She had been ready for the congenial guy who appeared on TV
interviews, not this powerhouse administrator. Years ago, the very sight of his
pub shot had made her swallow hard and want bad. She had put that down to her
age and lack of experience. Now this man in the flesh made her yearn for his
strength in her bed and in her body. She wanted the ravishing man who had held
her close minutes before. But that man wasn’t here now. Her heart fluttered,
confused by her own wants as well as his words.

“What do you mean?”

“I like what you’ve got here.” He patted the proposal and
leaned back in his chair to rock. Man in control. Power behind the desk.

“Good.” She sat forward, determined to disarm him with
logic. “Tell me what you don’t like.”

His gaze mellowed, almost apologizing. “You’re too
expensive.”

She hated the irony. Chet Stapleton had once been known as
the country’s championship bronc buster three years in a row. He’d been known
to spend his winning purses on horses, cars, wine and women. All the most
expensive he could afford. Yet today he earned a meager salary, all because of
how she’d ruined his bronc-busting career. And she
would
make it up to
him.

“I can negotiate.” Her boss had granted her that ability. “Within
certain parameters.”

“I doubt we can bargain. My budget constraints are very
tight.”

“Try me,” she urged him, desperate to make this deal.

“No.” He smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t want to insult you with a
lowball offer.”

“You can’t,” she countered. “Five hundred a month less on
the retainer. My opening offer.”

He blinked. “Mighty generous. But it’s still too high.”

She did some quick calculations. She knew where the profit
margin was on this job. “Seven-fifty less per month but for a six-month
contract.” She would tell Jeff she’d cut her salary for that period. Working
with Chet,
for
Chet, made all of her sacrifice worthwhile.

He stared at her. “You want this job that much?”

“I do.”

“I can’t accept.”

She scooted forward in her chair and caught another whiff of
that citrus cologne. “But you knew your budget problems before I came here,”
she said, astonished.

Or do you really know who I am, and you brought me here
to confront me, belittle me, berate me?

She braced herself, waiting for his attack. “Then why am I
here?”

Go ahead, and get this over with. Yell at me, for god
sakes. Throw me out on my ear.

“Not my choice to bring you here.”

He’d called her. Or rather his assistant had. “Pardon me?”

He smiled sadly, his mouth going from grim to grimace in one
smooth glide. “I knew I wasn’t going to give you this contract. But the board
of directors wanted me to see you. Talk to you. Thank you. They liked your
ideas. And I made them promise me we’d hire you if we ever had enough profit.”
Chet’s eyes softened for half a second to sparkling pools of sympathy. “So I
promised I’d see you. But there’s no money. Well, to be honest, not the kind of
money you asked for in this business plan. And so you see, Miz Carpenter, or
rather Shana, I asked you here to thank you personally because I always keep my
promises. To myself and to those I work with.”

So her hope that she might work with him, build up his
rodeo, build up his reputation and forgive herself for how she had done him
wrong went up in smoke.

“I can’t believe this,” she murmured, lost.

He slapped both palms on his desk and stood up to tower over
her. “Well, you should.”

She gazed up into those stern eyes of his and pleaded, “Let
me help you.”

His expression dwindled to something akin to sorrow. “You
can’t, ma’am.”

“But I must,” she declared and knew she sounded like a crazy
woman. “I’ve seen the lineup you’ve got for the next season. I’ve seen your
list of headliners. I’ve studied the problems, read the newspaper clips and the
magazine articles. You’ve got to give me a chance.”
To prove I’m not a
monster who writes lies in newspapers.
“Let me.”

He straightened up, his face a grim façade, his mood
unforgiving. “Why?”

“I want to.”

“I can see that.” He folded his arms, looking like a
colossus she could never move. “But why?”

“I can. I’m free of major clients for the next three months
and I can do it.”

O
nce Jeff hears what I’ve done, I might have no clients.
But I’d be here with Chet, and that would be just the ticket to solving his
problem and mine.

“But I can’t afford you.”

“Two grand a month for three months, plus my living
expenses. You can afford that. I’ve seen the balance sheets you sent for our
use to build the campaign.”

He whistled. “That’s damn low.”

And you are damn stubborn.

“I need the experience.” Her persistence in the face of his
recalcitrance startled her, but then she had to find some peace for what she’d
done to him. Helping him was her only out. Her only redemption.

“I’ve read your resume, Shana, so saying you need more
experience is a damn lie.”

The truth then. Okay.
Watching his jaw muscles twitch
in anger, she stood and raised her chin at him.
Maybe he does know who I am.
And he hates me.
Still, she’d come here to try to wipe that mistake away.

“I want to leave my firm.” That was true, even if she hadn’t
planned to do it for a few more years. “I want to build my own PR company, and
the only way I can make it happen is to build an expertise.”

“And the rodeo is your choice?” he asked as if she were
nuts.

She nodded. “You are my first choice.”

“How could
that
be?”

Suddenly, she was positive he knew who she was. Knew why she
was here.
Really
here. If that were so, she’d better get on with her
plan and her apology. Direct and honest, that was the way to start. “Because,
Chet, after you quit the circuit and came here, no one thought you’d do as well
as you have.”

He curled out his lower lip, surly, brooding. “True. And?”

“Because now you need to do more to make Hayward a first-class
event. I can help you do that. I’ve got the connections in my firm to bring in
country and western singers to headline Saturday nights. I know the groups to
set up a western trail drive for you. I can launch children’s competitions with
miniature horses. And we’ll start an annual chili cook-off with big prizes.”

“All for the Hayward Rodeo,” he said as if she needed her
head examined.

Maybe she did. To hell with whether he knew she’d hurt him.
She wanted this job for more than one good reason. She stepped around the
rickety desk to face him. Lifting her face to his, she admired his mouth and
eyes, both with stress lines she wanted to eradicate. “Yes. All for you. I’ll
make your new job so secure that no one will ever mess with you again. You’ll
become the most prosperous, most famous rodeo executive in Texas.”

Stepping near her, he wrapped his huge, warm hands around
her upper arms. The electrical current between them buzzed and hummed, uniting
them like magnets. “Are you sure the heat wave hasn’t fried your brain?”

“No, Chet. It hasn’t. What’s wrong with my plan? Rodeoing is
a great business. Growing too, since the sports cable channels show the
competitions.”

“True. But your price is so low, I’ll be taking unfair
advantage of you.”

Like I did of you. S
he stared at him, shocked at the
force of her need to make her offer a reality. “Say you want me.”

He threw back his head and whistled. “Miz Carpenter. Shana,”
he crooned in his darling bass and made her pussy pulse with wet demand, “how
will your boss take it that you’re doing us such a favor?”