Do Him Right (3 page)

“Jeff won’t like the idea.”
In fact, he’ll hate it,
unreasonably jealous as he is of anything in pants that comes near me. But I
want you.
“I want this. And I am the woman who can make this a success for
you.”

Chet Stapleton looked at her. Every feature. Every contour.
She felt caressed and consumed by him.

Beneath his breath, he cursed. “I’m crazy to even consider
this.” He hauled her flush against his chest. Through the thin cotton of her
tank top, she felt the overpowering strength of his body and the lure of his
easy charm. “We need to shake on this deal.”

The urge to throw her arms around his neck was the most
powerful impulse she’d had in years. And when she gave into it and felt him
crush her closer, she knew she’d made the right decision.

“What if I don’t want to shake?” She grinned up into his
gorgeous eyes, impatient to celebrate her victory.

He examined her as if he were going to have her for dinner. “What
if I don’t want to talk?”

“What if,” her lips strayed over his, open and taking in his
scent, “I’d agree?”

His fingers dug in to her waist and drifted lower to cup her
ass. “I’d rather kiss you.”

“I’d rather you hurried.”

“Oh, lady,” he whispered as his mouth seized hers. His claim
of her was nothing like she’d ever imagined him to be. He wasn’t gentle, but
fierce as he swept his tongue around the inside of her mouth.

She could hardly breathe. She tore away and her head fell
back. “Is this lunch?”

Against her throat, he chuckled. “If you say so.”

“What’ll your assistant say?”

He whirled with her in his arms, her legs going up around
his waist, as he took two steps to the door and twirled the lock.

“She’ll say nothing, darlin’.” He eyed her swollen mouth,
and her disheveled hair. “What’re you gonna say if I tell you I want you here
on my desk?”

“I’ll say you better have me quickly, because I’m coming
soon. And I do want you to come with me.”

He growled and stepped to his desk. With one sweep of his
arm, he sent things scattering across the top and dropping to the floor. He
laid her back as if she were made of new-spun glass. “You sure about this,
Shana?”

She let each of her high heels thud to the floor then reached
for the top button of his soft denim shirt. “Let me show you how sure I am.”

He bent, and she worked at the other buttons while one of
his big hands cupped one of her breasts. “I want to see these. Taste them.” His
green eyes shot to hers. “Look at me. Tell me if I go too fast? I don’t want to
scare you.” He cupped her chin. “I scare myself, I want you that badly.”

She trembled, grasped his silver belt buckle and paused to
cup his erection. “I’m terrified, but not of you and not of this.”

His eyes darkened with to an emerald joy. “Well then, we
better get you naked, darlin’, because I’m going to enjoy loving you.”

She scooted to a partial sitting position and, in a flash,
reached down to strip herself of the top and undo her bra.

His hands covered hers. “For me to do.”

Reverent in his care, he pushed her hands away from the cups
of her bra.

“Let me see these,” he whispered and reached inside the
frilly fabric to lift out her one breast. “A beautiful little apple. I have to
have a bite,” he pleaded and bent to nip his teeth over her tip.

“Ah god, Chet!” She flung back her head, seared by the heat
of his lips and the nip of teeth on her nipple. “You’re going to destroy me.”

He caught her head in his hands and pressed his mouth to
hers. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He arched her up so that he could suck
her other nipple into his mouth. As he pulled away, he blew cool air on her
areola and gave her little licks on her navel. With his other hand, he fondled
her diamond tummy ring.

“All this.” His gaze swept her body. “The platinum hair. The
puma eyes. The sharp cheekbones. Your lips. Your breasts. And this…” He cupped
her at the apex of her thighs to make her squirm. “You are one stunning woman,
darlin’.” He kissed her then, his tongue invading her while his hand, palming
her cunt, squeezed her hard.

She squirmed to get closer to his hand and cried out for
more of him.

“You bet. Let’s take this off, baby,” he gripped her skirt
and pulled it down the length of her legs.

But when he came back up and stared at her, she watched him
register shock as he saw her naked pussy.

“You don’t wear panties?” he asked, his gaze running over
her pale curls.

“Not today,” she admitted.

He couldn’t take his eyes from her short blonde hair as he
sank his palm against her. “Christ, you are on fire.”

“Oh yes.” She undulated against his caress then slid open
her legs to let him feel more of her.

He sank one finger inside her with such ease, he moaned. “Shana,
baby, did you get that wet just talking to me?”

“Oh, I did,” she admitted and widened her legs more. “I
wanted you. Needed to have you.”

“But you don’t know me,” he said, sounding foggy. “How could
you know you wanted to get naked with me?”

She leaned up and held his jaw. “I’ve read about you. Famous
rodeo star. Spokesman and fundraiser for disabled competitors. Now manager of
the Hayward Rodeo. I know you. Who doesn’t?” She kissed him, cuddling close,
her breasts abraded by his pecs and making her liquid with want. She squeezed
his fingers between her labia. “Don’t you want me, Chet?”

He pushed her back to the desktop, ran his hands over her
nipples and the hollow of her bellybutton then over her hipbones to her pussy.

“I want this.” He spread her lips, and she wiggled as the
air hit her hungry cunt. “I want to taste this.” He licked the inside of one
lip then the other. “I want to tease this.” He stabbed his tongue against her
clit. “I want to suck this.” He put his lips to her small bundle of nerves to
pull her into the torrid cavern of his mouth and she cried out.

Humming in delight, she pulled her labia wider for his ease.
“Do you have any condoms?”

She could feel him smile against her pussy as he said, “What’s
your hurry, darlin’? I’m having a wonderful time sucking you.”

“I know. I
know
! But I’m coming soon!” she blurted.

He chuckled against her wet flesh.

“No, really, don’t you have any?”

He was busy sending his scalding tongue deeper and deeper
inside her.

She clamped a hand over her pussy to stop him.

“Ah baby, don’t do that.” He kissed her fingertips. “I can’t
drink your cream if you hide this pretty kitty from me.”

“Condoms!” she insisted. “Here? In the office?”

He went on blithely nipping her and licking her. When she
wiggled like a fish, he held her hips to the desk. “Yeah, okay, honey. Open the
top drawer. On your left, baby. Christ, you’re giving off more juice. No, baby.
To your left. That’s right. Good girl.”

“Hurry,” she demanded, almost whimpering, as she opened her
labia to tap her clit while he tore at the packet.

“No fair.” He stayed her hands. “I’m doing this naughty cat.
Not you. Never you while I’m around. Hear me?” He snapped on the condom and
leaned over her. His eyes were green pools of fire. “Want to feel my cock?”

“I do.” She licked her lips and reached out her hands.

He led her to his shaft.

“Oh god.” She craned her neck to see him. Huge. Jutting from
his groin like a long, pink rod. “Just like I always thought.”

He snorted. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you in the saddle. You always seemed so big. Too big
for an ordinary woman to handle.” She ran her hand over his length. “I want you
in my saddle.”

“Happy to oblige.” He spread her juicy channel wider. “Let
me make really certain you’re fired up enough to have me, baby.”

She pounded her fists on his desk. “Chet, I’m going to be
cinders and ashes if I get any hotter.”

He laughed against her clit, and the vibrations had her
groaning. “Not to worry, darlin’.” He flicked the crest of her nub with the
talented tip of his tongue. “I’m going up in flames with you.”

“Like now?” She keened.

He plunged into her with one long hard drive. “Like right
now.”

She opened her mouth in a silent scream of fulfillment.

“Oh, I hear you, baby,” he growled as he gripped her hips
with powerful hands, flung his head back and set a jolting rhythm for them
both. “Christ, where’ve you been all these years?”

At his question, a warning bell rang in her head, but she
couldn’t care, didn’t dare move as he penetrated her over and over with speed.
Wanting more, she moaned and pleaded for him, “Come closer, farther.”

He rammed inside her and she thrilled at his strength as he
rocked her in a faster pulse that made her yell for more.

He gave it. With fast, sure stabs, he claimed her. She
spread her legs, lifted to meet him and reveled in his ferocity. Pulses of
pleasure built inside her like a hurricane, taking her up and making her keen
as she came in waves of release.

With a shout, he followed her up into the storm, broke and
fell over her.

When he lifted his head, he examined her features. His body
was tense, his expression raw with worry. He caressed her cheeks and lips with
careful fingers. “That was rough. You’re good?”

“Very good,” she breathed.

He grinned, passion hooding his gaze as he took his time,
caressing her nipples, sucking them into points over and over, massaging her
belly and giving her minute orgasms with his touch. “You come for me so easily,
darlin’.”

She let out a giggle. “Who knew I could do that?”

“Why? Haven’t had many men?”

“No. No, not like this. Not like you.”

“Well then, let me take my time and apply all my talents to
loving you often.”

She looked Chet in the eye. “Good, because now that I’ve had
you—I’d hate to let you go.” She squeezed his shaft with her vaginal muscles.

He groaned. “Who says you have to go anywhere?”

“You’re going to let me stay?”

He stroked her channel with a long swath of his heavy cock. “Oh,
you’re staying.”

“I’m hired?” She could barely believe her good fortune.

His eyes laughed as they delved into hers. “Seems like the
best way to keep you.”

“Well,” she demurred, teasing him, “I can’t just stay in
town and say I’m here to make love to the famous Chet Stapleton.”

His brows furrowed. “No, certainly can’t do that.” He
caressed her stomach, lost in thought. “But if you do stay, you
are
making love to Chet Stapleton.”

“I wouldn’t stay if I couldn’t.”

He examined her then. Long and hard, he looked her over,
from her swollen mouth to her pebbled nipples to her wet bush, his cock still
buried deep inside her. He combed her pussy hair with two gentle fingers. “I
want you often. In a bed. Down in the river. On the bank on a blanket.
Everywhere. Every day.”

“At night, too,” she insisted and let him know she was adamant
about it with another pulse of her powerful walls.

He hooted. “You bet. But this is a small town and folks have
proprieties here, so you’ve got to have a room. We’ll set you up at Troy
Mallard’s B&B.”

“You’ll visit?” she asked, eager as a teenager with a new
boyfriend.

“Ha! I’m gonna be around you so much, you’re gonna get tired
of me.”

She grinned, bold as brass that he could care that much. “I
want to be tired
because
of you, Chet Stapleton.”

“Oh, trust me.” He pushed inside her once more, his eyes drifting
closed in the move. “You’re gonna have to find ways to get your work done fast,
Shana. Cuz, I’ve got a taste for you now and my appetite is only gonna grow.”

She tossed him an impish grin. “Chet, that’s a promise, I’m
gonna see to it you keep.”

“Mornin’, Troy!” Chet greeted the owner of Hayward’s only
bed and breakfast as they stood in the reception hall of the huge, old
Victorian house. “This is Shana Carpenter, she’s going to be working for us at
the rodeo.”

“Welcome, Miz Carpenter.” Troy took a limping step forward
and reached across his reception desk to shake her hand. In his early thirties,
he rivaled Chet for tall, rugged and drop-dead gorgeous. With his silky black
hair and chocolate-brown eyes, he was definitely as handsome as Chet. His gaze
danced down her body. “I see that my buddy Chet, here, has good taste.”

“Thank you,” Shana responded with a professional smile.

“Shana needs a large room, Troy,” Chet announced, his gaze
rising slowly from Troy and Shana’s hands. “I hope you have the biggest casita
in the back available.”

“Sure do, Chet. I can fix you up.” He turned to take a key
from the pigeonhole slots behind him. “The one with the kitchen, right?”

“Yep and the hot tub in the back.”

Troy took his time admiring Shana’s lips, making her wonder
if he could tell what she’d been doing with them only minutes ago.

“What’s the rental fee?” she asked, careful to sound
professional.

“How long will you stay?” Troy asked. “I can quote you a
really good rate if you’re here for a long while.”

“Three months,” she told him before Chet could get a word
out.

“Wow. That long? Terrific. Means we’ll get to know you
really well.”

Chet smiled, but his expression was more rueful than pleasant.
“Easy, boy. Shana’s here to help me make strides with the rodeo.”

Troy examined Chet in fine detail. Shana figured it had to
be Chet’s proprietary tone. “Is that right? Well then, you do need the biggest
little house in the back.” He fastened his dark gaze on Shana and quoted her a
rate per month.

“Sounds like a deal,” she told him with a grin. “Do you want
me to sign an agreement for that?”

“No, but you could give me a credit card. Usual check-in
practice.” He seemed more businesslike now, less predatory male. “I can bill
you monthly. First month in advance.”

“Wonderful.” She searched in her briefcase for her wallet,
lifted out her personal card and let him complete the registration forms. She
signed and turned to Chet.

He took her arm.

Troy examined both of them with a critical eye. “If you need
anything, Shana, just call us here at the desk.”

Chet stared at him and shook his head. “Troy prides himself
on doing everything for the single women who take rooms in his establishment.”

“Oh.” She tried to be polite, side-stepping any words to
deepen the men’s tension. “Good to know. Thanks, Mr. Mallard.”

“Troy,” he corrected her with laughter in his voice and his
eyes. “We don’t get many good-looking single women coming into town.”

“Troy it is then,” she acknowledged. “Hopefully when we get
more people coming to town for the rodeo, there’ll be a bigger selection of
single women.”

He laughed. “That would be great for the likes of me because
I see Chet here has already staked his claim.”

She blushed.

Chet let out a laugh. “Okay, man. We’re gonna settle Shana
into the back casita.”

“Call me if you need help getting the air conditioner or the
whirlpool going.”

“I think I’m capable, buddy,” Chet called over his shoulder
as he headed them out the front door. “I love the man. He’ll walk over hot
coals for his friends, but I have to tell you, ever since he got discharged
from the Guard, he’s an alley cat,” he told her as they took the sidewalk toward
the back of the property.

“So was he in Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Yeah. Iraq. Hell in the sand. You saw him limp, right?”

“What happened?”

“Roadside bomb. Took part of his left foot. He’s still in
physical therapy. Goes twice a week into the VA Hospital in Kerrville for
treatment. He’s getting better slowly. Too slowly for him. His biggest problem
is not the foot.”

“It’s his head?” she speculated.

Chet didn’t respond but seemed lost in thought.

“Does he have psychological problems, or did he get a head injury
from the blast?”

“Some of both,” Chet snapped. “Sorry. This is tough for me
to talk about.”

She stopped and he turned to face her. With her heart
pounding, she opened the subject that could ruin the good things she had going
here with him. “Because of your own disability.”

It wasn’t a question, and his wince told her he was
surprised she knew the truth about his condition.

“I have read your bio in various press clips,” she admitted
her research on the traumatic brain injury that had changed his personality
more than five years ago. “That’s how I knew.”

“Yeah well, it’s true. I have head injuries from my years of
bronc riding. You get thrown off once, no big deal. Twice, hey, you’re getting
good at scrambling up. But three, four, fourteen times and suddenly you’re
screwed. Your body recovers but you are not acting right.” His green gaze bored
into hers. “We are not going to talk about this. Not now.”

She bit her lip.

“Come on.” He tugged at her arm. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay.
Let’s get you settled in this little house. I’ll get your car and drive it over
so you can unpack your suitcase. We’ll talk about the rodeo. I’ll give you the
fifty-cent tour then,” he beamed at her, his mouth lush and generous with his
grin, “I’m going to cook you lunch.”

* * * * *

But Chet wasn’t his same congenial self. The fact that she’d
brought up his head injury had doused their easygoing relationship. He didn’t
smile, didn’t tease, didn’t touch her as they rode through the giant wrought iron
gates of the Hayward Rodeo.

“Built in 1950,” he told her as they jounced along the rough
macadam up to the main arena in his serviceable old 4x4. “One hundred pens in
the back, lots of road access for horse trailers and cattle cars. The arena
seats five thousand. The roof was new after the last bad hail storm in ’99. The
paneling on the inside and the plumbing is all brand new last year. So we look
good, and we have capacity to grow in this arena.”

“The outside does look good.” She pushed her sunglasses up
her nose. She figured she’d go on with the business stats, learn something
about what she had to do here, before she went back to worrying that he might
not want her anymore, might truly know who she really was, and not want to talk
about the head injury which was the cause of his outbursts she’d witnessed four
years ago. “A seating capacity of five thousand means we can alternate this
with activities in the open-air ring. Which is where?” She swiveled in her seat
to look around.

“Over there.” He pointed to their left and as she came nearer,
he went quiet and his glance drifted down to her lips. “What do you think?” he
asked, husky and warm. “Want to go see it?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled up at him, eager to have him back
inside her, needing to reassure him that his head injury did not worry her, did
not make him less of a whole man.
I did you a more lasting injury by
misrepresenting what your outbursts really were.

His green eyes twinkled with renewed interest. “It’ll be a
quick tour.”

“Lead on, then! I need to do my research before I can suggest
anything.”

He chuckled, then shifted the gear so that they jounced
forward toward the outdoor arena. “Let’s see. What other facts can I tell you?”

“Hmm. Aside from when is lunch?” she teased.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Lunch is in five minutes.”

He kept his word. Instead of getting out of the truck, he drove
her around the arena’s circumference. Pointing to the ticket gates, he told her
they were on track to be replaced next month. “The interior seats are good for
another five thousand. And they’re comfortable too. But the biggest problem is
that in Texas’ summer heat, spectators can fry at one hundred degrees. This
arena is better for night events.”

“What about the opening parade of color guards? Do you still
do that here or over in the covered ring?”

“Here. We do it early in the morning. Nine o’clock. Early by
most standards. But it works for us. For now. Until we need to find the money
to build a bigger covered main ring.”

“Cost efficiency,” she agreed. “It’s what we’ll work on.”

“Good. So now lunch?” he asked, his eyes lit with childish
glee.

Breathless, she licked her lips. “I’m starving.”

He almost stripped the gears getting the truck in reverse.
He chuckled all the way down the rock-strewn drive. “I’ve got to fire up the
coals. Want a salad too?”

“Yes. I’m delighted to know one more man in the world can
cook.”

“Oh?” He had his eyes on the road as they made a turn onto
the highway. “How many men have you known who can cook?”

“My father. My uncle.”

“That all?” he asked, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He
was tense. Not a happy sign.

“That’s all,” she told him, but she knew he was fishing for
more information about men she’d known, men she’d dated, men she liked. She
wasn’t going to give it to him. Because this, coupled with the way he had reacted
to Troy Mallard’s interest in her, told her that kind of knowledge was not what
she needed to offer Chet. He could get jealous. Angry. That she would avoid at
all costs.

“I have a lot of good recipes,” he told her, eyes on the
road, one hand taking hers into his lap.

His playfulness had her sighing in relief as she caressed
the muscles of his thigh. “Tell me.”

“Steak. Salad. Baked Potatoes. Chili that’ll roll your
mother’s stockings,” he told her with a grin as he took the exit ramp. “And
cereal.”

She feigned a shiver. “Cold?”

“You hate it, huh?”

“I like something hot.”

He shot her a sensual grin.

She pinched his thigh. “Eggs. Or oatmeal, hot with brown
sugar and maple syrup. And if you can’t make it, I can,” she told him as he
pulled off the main road down a pebbled drive to a one-story, white-stone ranch
house.

He pulled up the drive to the front door and turned off the
engine. “Is that an invitation to have breakfast with you?”

She widened her eyes at him. “If you’d like.”

He curled a long, strong arm around her, hauled her across
the shifter and, on her mouth, vowed, “Oh, Shana Carpenter, I do like.” His
kiss was searing and brief.

He pulled away, hopped out of the cab then came around to
open her door and hold up his arms for her to fall into. Opportunist that she
was, she took advantage of his embrace to put her own mouth to his in a claim
that made them both moan.

“Come inside before we do things out here others will
applaud.” He took her briefcase from the floor of the cab and put his arm
around her waist and led her to the porch.

When he opened the front door, he stood to one side to let
her precede him. She stepped into the cool living room, done in rust-colored
leather and brown-and-red Navaho carpets. On the mantel was a large old clock
and a huge contemporary iron sculpture. But on the walls he’d mounted
memorabilia of his life. Certificates, awards, a few pictures of a family of
four from maybe twenty years ago.

“I love it,” she told him as she saw him watching her
reaction to his taste.

“I rent the house. Option to buy if I make enough money as
rodeo manager.”

She inclined her head toward the large family picture of
mother, father and two teenagers, one of whom was clearly a younger Chet. “Your
family?”

He nodded, put his keys down on a side table then glanced at
his wall. “Yes. All gone but me.”

His grief was almost palpable. She swallowed hard. “I’m
sorry.”

He winced. “I lost my parents five years ago. My brother the
next year.”

She felt sick to her stomach with the coincidence of the
timing.
My god and I ruined him at the same time.

He gazed at her while some inner conflict contorted his
features in grief and anger.

“Chet,” she began, devastated by her own guilt, not knowing
what in hell she could say to him now. Except the whole truth, for which she
hadn’t summoned enough courage. Yet.

He stepped toward her, pushing his hands up through her
hair, pressing her to him like a second skin and branding her lips with fierce
kisses, once, twice, three times.

“We’ll wait for the steaks,” he told her and bent to gather
her up into his arms and march with her beyond the living room into a shadowed
hallway toward the back of the house.

She hung on to him, shaking at his demand and thrilled, but
not quite knowing this Chet who commanded her. At the end of the hall, he
kicked open the door and carried her to a king-size bed covered in a rust and
brown silk coverlet. He laid her down and rose above her, tangling his fingers
in her long hair as he plundered her mouth. His kisses, filled with languor and
nuance, caressed, brushed and crushed her lips. His tongue speared into her
mouth, and she groaned, needing more of this man who was so controlling and yet
so sweet.

He hauled her up to a sitting position. “I need you naked,
baby.”

She kicked off her shoes then reached for her tank top the
same time he did. The two of them pulled it up to throw it aside.

“Christ.” He kissed the tops of her breasts as his hands
lifted under her bra and made them plump up out of the cups. “I love these.
Your big nipples. Pink satin,” he licked one tip with the edge of his tongue, “and
hard. They like to be nipped.” He bit each one in turn and made her buck. “And
tweaked.” He did each delicately and whispered against her ear, “I could play
with you all day.”

She writhed in excitement. “We’re not getting any work done.”

“But we are. We’re learning how to work well together.” He
cupped her mound with one big hand. “I’m finding what makes you hot and wet.
How fast. And Jesus, are you soaked.” He reached for her waistband.