Do Him Right (7 page)

“And one way is to stay away from alcohol?”

“Definitely. The docs say it changes the brain chemistry. I
know they’re right. After three years dry, I can’t say as I miss the taste. And
when I see someone like Troy, who might have a chance at a decent life if he
gave it up, I am never sorry I won’t take up the habit.”

The fiddler began and pretty soon the strains of a line
dance filled the hall.

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t look sad. We’re here to have a good
time and meet the ones who are going to buy tickets by the truckloads.”

He grinned so broadly, she had to smile back even if her
heart was broken for what she’d done to him. She had accused him of behavior
caused by the head injuries. Of course, she hadn’t known that. But she still
owed him for her mistake.

“Let’s dance.” He held her close a minute. “Then I want to
take you home with me and make love to you until the sun comes up.”

Surprised at herself, she laughed her way through the line
dance with him then waltzed around the sawdust-covered floors to a few standard
favorites. Chet, whom she expected might not be comfortable on the floor, was
graceful and commanding. “I’ve never known a man who can dance so well.”

“You can thank my momma,” he told her as he led her into a
turn. “And you?”

“My uncle.” She grinned. “He said it is the mark of a Texas
lady or a Texas gentleman that they dance well. And you, my dear, are the most
charming gentleman.” She leaned close so that he could hear her as they turned
again. “In my bed, out of it, anywhere, Chet.”

His green eyes darkened to a wicked hue. “Compliment me all
the time, and we won’t be winning friends and influencing people too long here,”
he said, paraphrasing what she’d told him earlier.

“But I—”
Love you.
She froze with the realization.
I
can’t say that to you ever. Not unless I have the courage to tell you
everything.

And if I don’t, I’ll lose you.

Hating herself, she deliberately squinted past the dance
floor lights toward the tables. “Who else do we need to shake hands with?”

He named three people. “One owns a big ranch, the other the
oil drilling company and the third one is the head of the county chamber of
commerce.”

“Hurry, let’s say hello now.”

“You’re in an awful rush, darlin’.”

“I know.”
I have to have more of you, all of you I can
take. I have to give you as much as I possibly can because I can admit to
myself now, I want you forever. I just don’t have the courage to make that
happen.

* * * * *

Her haste unnerved him. She could tell as he kept glancing
at her on their way home. His questions died down when she just shook her head,
unable to answer any of them. If she spoke, she’d cry. Or worse, she feared she’d
howl. So she just looked out her window and said nothing.

When he pulled into his driveway, she shoved open her door
before he could come around to open it for her. She tugged him along the path
and he came, but with apprehension in his every step.

After he put the key in the lock and pushed open the door,
she charged through and pulled him after her. Running her hands up through his
satin hair, she reached up and kissed him with all the desperate ardor of a
woman about to lose her man.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Tears leaked out of her eyes as she swirled away from him,
toward the bedroom.

She kicked off her boots, tore at the buttons on her shirt
and her jeans, dropping them, leaving them where they lay. She was naked when
he appeared in the doorway. He lifted his chin, motioning her toward the bed,
knowing by now, she guessed, that words weren’t going to work with her. She stepped
backward, her calves hitting the mattress and allowing her to sink slowly down
and push herself across its length.

He came to her, fully dressed, hovered over her like a
predator, his green eyes limpid but fierce with anxiety in the dim moonlight streaming
through the windows.

She whimpered, arching up, her sensitive nipples brushing
his starched shirt, her hands going around his waist. He caught one of her
wrists then the other and forced them above her head, his gaze searching hers
for clues to what was happening in her brain.

Whatever he thought he saw in her expression, he reached
down to unbuckle his belt. Whipping it from its loops, he circled her wrists,
then lifted her and shoved her up toward the head of the bed, wrapping the
other end of the belt to the iron posts and yanking tight. His body went rigid,
his eyes glazed.

Then he drew away.

Shocked that he would leave her, she groaned in objection,
but her fears were for nothing. He lifted one of her feet, stroked it, sole to
toes, massaged her ankle and kissed her arch. His mouth thrilled and tickled
then spread kisses on her knee as his splayed hand slid up the inside of her
thigh.

She bowed up, thinking she would come for him then and
there, but he surprised her and seized her other foot. This one he nibbled,
making her writhe and gasp as he nipped at each toe and her heel and scored her
sole with his fingernails.

She bucked, craving his possession. He drifted away, and she
cried out to watch him rummage in his closet. He came back with two more belts.
He quickly wrapped one around one ankle and tied the other in the same way. He
spread out her legs to secure her to the bottom posts. For each task, he seemed
intent, his features harsh in the soft shadows. With a gentle tug, he ensured
that she was bound well but not so tightly that she would be hurt.

He crawled over her again, supporting himself on his elbows,
his mouth loving hers, then taking her lower lip in his teeth and biting her.

This play she loved, and with her eyes and pouting lips, she
told him so.

He slid down and took an eternity while he gazed at her
pussy. Finally he touched her tender flesh and she quivered. He fingered her so
gently it seemed like the touch of a butterfly. Both hands to her inner thighs,
he pushed her open wider. Her head thrashed. Her cunt creamed. She swallowed in
electric excitement.

He stood while she undulated on the bed in sheer expectation
and he stripped. When he was naked, she swooned with the beauty of his abs and
the corded powerful arms that held her so well, so mightily, so often when they
made love. She admired his lean hips, the way the muscles bulged and pulled at
his taut stomach and pointed down to his dark thatch of hair and the long cock
that stood proudly reaching for her.

He climbed over her, hunched, his shaft pointing down to her
mouth, and slid a fingertip inside her lips. She knew what he wanted, though
she’d never tongued him at this angle. She didn’t need experience, just him.
And god knew, she’d give him whatever he desired.

She licked his length. He grunted, hands to his hips. She
lifted her head and swirled her tongue on his tip, dewy with drops of cum, all
for her. She sucked on him, over and over, as he gave her more and more. He
held her chin as he dipped into her mouth and she swallowed as much of his
length as she could. He groaned and pulled away.

He parted her swollen, tender labia, pinching her clit until
she gasped. Then he spread himself out on the bed between her legs and began a
thorough assault on her drenched, needy pussy. He kissed her, sucked her,
fingered her and pushed her lips together so that he could titillate her
sensitive little nub with his talented tongue and make her scream, “More!”

In two jerks, he had a condom open and on. The moment seemed
like a year. He sank into her like a long, hard pillar of steel, gripped her
hips in two hands and rode her like she’d seen him ride wild horses in the
ring. Indomitable and ferocious. With bared teeth and mad devotion to
conquering her body with every ounce of power in his own.

She came, gasping for air, grasping for memories to take
with her. Her cunt pulsed with clenching ripples of completion that blazed
across her consciousness.

He muttered something and drew out of her.

She screamed her objection.

But he loosened the belts at her feet and flipped her over,
sending the last air from her lungs in the impact. Her wrists twisted in the
belt that tied her to the post. He swirled his hands over her buttocks, and she
prayed she knew what he would do next.

Have me there. Finally.

But he kissed her on one cheek and the other. Caressed the
fullness of her ass and curled one arm around her hips to lift her up and back
to him. He sent his cock deep inside her pussy this way, and in the bliss, she
cooed utter nonsense.

He was gone before he gave her any time to build another
orgasm.

Instead, he hauled her hips up into the air, and she
trembled, expecting his caress. He spread her cheeks and massaged her asshole.
She heard him reach for the gel he kept by the bed for their forays into anal
sex play, and she wiggled her ass higher for him to get on with loving her, for
god sakes!

The cool lubricant he spread over her little hole and inside
had her sighing with his ministrations. He inserted a thumb, as he’d often done
before. And a long finger, as he’d done also. But when he withdrew this time,
she heard him putting the succulent lube on his cock. She arched.

Oh hurry, darling, please.

She felt the blunt tip of his rod at her opening, and she
caught her breath. But he was a lover who was kind and generous, slow and
careful, as he pushed one small iota at a time into her virgin channel and sank
ever so much deeper with each moment. He drove her to a mute O of delight. Her
fingernails digging up the sheets, she took the fullness of his shaft into her
and held on as he took his time to let her feel his might.

The pain was pleasure, and the joy more ecstatic than ever
before, as he plunged with deliberate care in and out of her. She’d whimper,
and he’d pause. She’d groan and he would plunge. The ecstasy was an eternity
and the climax all too brief.

He withdrew, pulled off the condom, rolled her over and, in
a few strokes, freed her arms. Limp with exertion, she reveled in his embrace,
his kisses to her eyes and her lips, his caresses of her nipples and her hips.

She drifted to sleep like that. Boneless with exhaustion,
she awoke once to burrow into him more, remembering his mastery of her and
letting herself go back to sleep, aware in the back of her mind that something
was dreadfully wrong. But when she woke again, she knew instantly what fear
stalked her.

She loved this man. Now, because of how she had so
recklessly printed things about him that were false and had nothing to do with
the head injury that caused his outbursts, he could never love her. She had to
accept that as cruel fact.

She’d done this to herself. Carelessly, willfully, thinking
that in the rightness of her youth, what she’d seen of him that day in the
ring, what she’d read about him being hot-headed, bore repeating. She had been
wrong. On all counts.

Except for one.

She needed to get her job done for him and build him up so
that no one—no one as foolish as she had been—could ever hurt him again.

The next morning, she awoke to hear him making breakfast in
the kitchen. The lure of coffee and his
huevos rancheros
were usually
enough to draw her out like a magnet, but this morning, she escaped to the
shower. When she
did
go out, she had her hair up, wet in a ponytail, and
her clothes on from last night. She was determined to be casual, normal and
their usual bantering selves. But one look at Chet and she knew today that wasn’t
going to work.

He put a mug of coffee in front of her then plunked the jug
of milk down too.

Her eggs came next, warm and fragrant with onions and
peppers, but served by a man who was stiff, silent and cold.

What was wrong? She knew him well enough by now to guess. He
wanted an explanation about her behavior last night. Okay, she could do that.

“Chet, I want to explain about last night.”

He loomed over her. Breathing heavily, he waited.

She looked up.

His jaw was set, his gaze weary and sad. “Go ahead.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy.

“I just got upset by Troy and his problems.” Which was true.

“I could see that.”

“You see, I know a lot about alcoholism.”

Chet scowled. “How’s that?”

“My father drank himself to death.” She stared at her hands.
“I grew up seeing him drunk and demanding and silly. He was a good man, funny
and kind, but he also wanted to be a bigger star on the circuit than he ever
was. And liquor helped him get over the fact he wasn’t going to be anything but
mediocre. You know why. You’ve worked the circuit. Bull riding eats up your
youth and your energy and your time. My mother, meanwhile, was lonely. With him
gone so often, so long, she would beg him to quit, come home. And one day, he
did. He’d gotten hurt, broken his leg. He was home, and of course, there was no
money coming in. My mother went to work. But he hated her doing it. She’d come
home, and they’d argue. That’s when he began to drink during the day. When I
came home from school, he’d already be drunk. And by the time my mother got
home, he was very drunk. They’d argue. And one day, he hit her. And kept on
doing it every time they disagreed. They could get very ugly with each other.”
She couldn’t bear to tell him the worst parts. The way her father would change
in an instant from hurt to irate to brutal. How her mother got worn down by the
insults and intimidated by the beatings. “Then one day, my mother decided
things had to change.”

Chet pulled out a chair and sat down. He covered her hand
with his warm one. “What happened?”

“She asked him to leave. He was furious, tore the house
apart, smashing furniture and china. She called the police and they arrested
him. Three days later he got out of jail and left us. But she didn’t tell him
the whole reason why she asked him to leave.”

Chet frowned.

“She had found out from her doctor that she had breast
cancer. Very advanced and inoperable, you see. She just couldn’t cope with my
dad’s problems and her own illness. So she asked him to leave, and when he did,
it killed them both.”

“That’s why you were brought up by your aunt and uncle,” he
concluded then raised her hand to his lips. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I do. I just don’t like
to be around people who can’t control their tempers. It makes me nervous.
Anxious.”
I can’t think straight. Or breathe.

“I get it. God knows, Troy is just not reliable.”

“I know. That’s what I want to say to you.
I know.
I
shouldn’t freak out when I see someone who has problems with alcohol and anger.”
She removed her hand from his grasp. “You see, that’s where I’m so much younger
than you.” She smiled sadly at him. “Ten years can be a big rift.”
Among
other things.

He stood and pulled her up into his arms. “I’m willing to
wait around and watch while you grow older, honey.”

“Jeez.” She gave a laugh. “I’ll never catch up to you.”

“You think I’m an old man, huh?”

“No.” She threw her arms around his broad shoulders. “I
think you’re a wonderful man.”

His expression turned to stone, and he jerked her against
him, raising her jaw so that she had to look him in the eye. She could see that
her words had been too banal and not what he’d needed at all.

“I’m your man, baby. Last night,” he voiced dropped an
octave, “I made you my woman. Completely.”

She stared up at him. Knowing he wanted her to affirm that
she was his. His and no other’s. But she couldn’t now, could she? Because if
she did, she’d put herself in deeper with him. She’d have to come clean about
what she’d done. He’d hate her and she would have to leave. She’d never thought
of herself as a coward. But she was the worst kind. The sort who knew what she
had to do and failed at every turn.

She kissed his luscious lips, pushed away and ignored the
way he blinked at her.

She sat down, ate her eggs and drank her coffee, then helped
him wash dishes.

In a few minutes, he got his hat down from the wall rack,
and the two of them headed for the B&B for her to change her clothes and go
to the office.

The trip was silent. The road long.

* * * * *

Time or circumstance didn’t change the way they related.
Five days passed, then ten more, and they worked together in the same airless
little office. She secured the details of Kylee Farrell’s appearance for the
opening, got the trail ride organizers on board, sent out press releases and
reported by phone to Jeff back in San Antonio on a regular basis. With each new
victory, she would rejoice and share her news with Chet. He’d grin, laugh, hug
her and take her out to the drive-in movie or to the Long Horn to dance in
celebration. At night though, when he took her in his arms and they made love,
his tenderness brought tears to her eyes. She was slowly, reverently saying
goodbye to him and perceived it.

She was leaving. Had always known it. The fact that Chet now
understood it too, made her days easier and her nights in his bed bittersweet.
She had never admitted to herself that she was such a coward. Instead, she
worked her tail off to ensure Chet Stapleton had what she’d originally come
here to give him. Not her love. Her recompense. Amends for the harm she’d done
him four long years ago. Professional success for the failure she had helped
precipitate.

Sam Trunbridge noticed the difference between them.

“What gives with you two?” he asked one morning when he was
in the office to review the monthly budget numbers. When he got a shrug from
Chet and a startled look from Shana, he persisted. “Fighting? Whatever it is,
don’t you think you could settle it with a good talk?”

Chet glanced at her, his brows arching. Across the room, she
felt his question and couldn’t find a suitable answer for either man.

“All right then.” Sam jammed his cowboy hat on his head. “Have
it your way. It’s only gonna get worse, you realize. But I want this solved
before it affects our work. Good day to you both.” As he marched out the door,
he said a few words to Chet’s receptionist Reata about the foolishness of men
and women who care for each other.

Chet stared at the door until Shana thought he’d burn it
down with his fury.

She’d seen him fight anger before but not rage. She stood
up.

He shot a glance sideways, his gaze landing at her feet, as
if to warn her to step no farther. Cursing, he jumped up, grabbed his Stetson
from the rack and headed toward the door himself. But when he flung it open and
it banged back against the wall, there in the portal stood an open-mouthed
Reata, her hand up ready to knock. A man stood right behind her.

“Jeff!” Shana knew his appearance would only make things
worse. Jeff could be very aggressive with anyone, especially men whom he deemed
his rivals. Though she had never given her boss any reason to think he
interested her romantically, the man could be antagonistic to any other who
appeared to be interested in her. “Come in, please. Chet, let me introduce Jeff
Wentworth.” She walked toward him and put a hand to his arm.

He stared at Jeff.

Jeff gave Chet a courteous smile, but turned up the wattage
when he looked at Shana. “How are you? You look good as ever. Wild West agrees
with you, I guess.” Then he stepped over to offer his hand to Chet. “How are
you, Chet? Helping our girl get acquainted out here?”

Shana bristled at Jeff’s tone. The man could be an ass.

Chet ignored the jibe at Shana, shook Jeff’s hand and
offered him one of the folding chairs.

Jeff considered it with disdain.

Shana didn’t try to cover her frustration as the two men
sized each other up, but huffed. “Have a seat, Jeff.”

Jeff glanced around, and his assessment had him nodding and
saying, “Wow, I can see why you need help here.”

Chet sucked in a breath and stalked back over to his desk. “Can
I have Reata bring you something to drink? It’s hot out there, and you’ve been
on the road for a few hours.”

“Coffee is great. Black,” Jeff told him, his brown gaze
falling over Chet’s form-fitting western shirt and massive shoulders. “Good to
meet you finally. I thought I’d come out and visit with you, maybe take Shana
out to dinner and dancing tonight. She hasn’t been home since she came here,
and I thought she’d need company.” His gaze met Chet’s and held as if to say
Jeff thought the reason she’d stayed here was Chet. “And I’ve missed her.”

Chet flexed his jaw. The rage she’d seen after Sam’s
statements was a flicker compared to the inferno she saw building in him now.

She hastened to douse the fires. “You didn’t have to come
all this way, Jeff. We’re doing well. I’ve told you.”
Can I sound any more
lame?

Chet punched the intercom with more force than the little
phone system needed. “Reata, please bring us in a new pot of coffee. Three
cups. Milk for Shana.”

Jeff glared at Chet. Of course, he had heard and noted that
Chet made a point of announcing he knew and remembered what Shana liked in her
coffee. Jeff brushed imaginary lint from his trousers as he crossed one leg
over the other. “So tell me, how are we doing today?”

Like hell.
She inhaled, accepting the fact that she
wasn’t going to change Jeff’s or Chet’s attitudes so she might as well get this
confrontation over with quickly. “We just had a meeting with the president of
the rodeo. You might have met him on your way in. You did? Good. And we went
over the month’s projects and budget. We can do that for you, if you like.”

Chet stood. Picked up his hat from his desktop. “You do
that, Shana. I have an appointment.” He shoved his hand out to Jeff. “Thanks
for coming. See you at the Long Horn tonight. There’s a good band, and I know
Shana likes to dance.”

He didn’t smile at Jeff and didn’t look at Shana as he
turned and left them alone.

“Rude bastard,” Jeff muttered and turned to examine Shana’s
features. “Has he been a pain in the ass to work with?”

Oh, Jeff. Ever the sly public relations man.
“No. He’s
been a gentleman.”

“How much of a gentleman?”

Outrage bubbled over. “None of your business.”

“Oh, but it is. My business. My employee. The woman I’d like
to get closer to.”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeff.”

“I haven’t even gotten started yet.” He leaned over and took
her hand.

She considered his, so much smaller and cooler than Chet’s.

“Shana, I missed you. I came not just to see this place, but
to see if we can get back on track with our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship and won’t ever have one.” She
glared at him.

“A stubborn woman.”

“Yes. I’ll stay that way too.”

“We’ll see.”

Shivering in the chilly certainty of his rhetoric, Shana
knew she’d have to find a permanent solution to his unwanted attentions. Truth
was, if she couldn’t stomach angry men, she couldn’t abide pushy ones. And she
could easily rid herself of this one, couldn’t she?

She rose. “Let me get the records for you.”

* * * * *

After the review of the books, she couldn’t dissuade Jeff
from going to the Long Horn that night. “You love to dance. What’s your
problem?”

But he knew. She saw it in his calculating eyes.

As a result, she took one step closer to ridding herself of
him forever.

“It’s okay, Shana. I just want to see what the local folks
look like. Are they well-heeled enough to buy tickets to our events?”

“You know they are. I did the demographic studies months
ago. You read them. What’s your question about them now?”

“Then let’s just say I want to dance.”

She wanted to stomp on his foot. “If I’m stubborn, you’re
not far behind.” She whirled away from him. “Dinner is at my place, but it’s no
grand invitation. You’ll eat with me because the only diner in town isn’t open
and won’t be for a few more weeks.”

“That doesn’t bode well. How will this town take care of
more travelers coming through for the rodeo?”

“They’re putting in an expanded kitchen and a bigger main
dining room now. It’ll be ready by the time we open. So we’ll be fine.”

He lifted his brows. “
We
will be fine? Is that you
buying in like a good PR person or are you planning on staying here?”

“Buying in, Jeff,” she bit off. “Just buying in. Come to my
rooms at five.”

“Great. What’s for dinner?”

Old shoe leather and kick in the pants.
“Barbeque and
beans.”

* * * * *

Both the beans and the BBQ sat like lead in her stomach
hours later as she and Jeff walked into the Long Horn.

“Hey, Shana,” Reata called to her and waved. Chet’s
receptionist sized up Jeff with critical gray eyes and cocked an elegant dark
brow at her. “Dancing tonight?”

If I liked drinking more, I’d do that too.
“Think so,
yes.”