Hawk's Way Grooms (9 page)

“It's not that I'm not attracted to you,” he said.

He saw the look on her face and realized she didn't believe him. How could she not see the truth when it was throbbing like mad beneath the thin sheet that separated them?

“Then why won't you make love to me?” she challenged.

“Because…”

He couldn't tell her the truth, and he saw she believed the worst—that she had imposed herself where she wasn't wanted, and he was rejecting her as kindly as he could.

“Aw, Jewel,” he said again. His voice was tender, as gentle as he wished he could be with her.

She made a keening sound in her throat, a mournful sound that made him ache somewhere deep inside.

He realized he had no choice. He had to try to make love to her. He couldn't botch things much worse than he already had. He leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers, restraining the rush of passion he felt at the touch of her soft, damp lips.

She moaned and arched her body against his. Her mouth clung to his, and he felt her need and her desire.

Maybe it's going to be all right. Maybe I can get us both through this.

He tried to hold back, so he wouldn't scare her. Yet when his tongue slipped into her mouth it found an eager welcome. He thrust deep, mimicking the sex act, and she riposted with her tongue in his mouth.

He thought the top of his head was going to come off. He had never felt so out of control. His hands slid down her arms, feeling the goose bumps and her shiver of anticipation. She was as excited as he was. She wanted him, too.

His lips started down her slender throat, across the silky flesh that led to her breastbone and downward, giving her plenty of warning where he was headed. She could have stopped him anytime she wanted. He wasn't an animal. He had his desire on a firm leash.

She cried out when his mouth latched onto her nipple, and he sucked hard through the cotton. Mac knew it wasn't a cry of fear, because her hands grasped his hair and held him there.

Her moan of pleasure urged him on. He released her breast momentarily and kissed her mouth again, an accolade for her trust in him. “I won't hurt you, Jewel. I would never hurt you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I know, Mac. I know,” she replied in gasping breaths.

Their tongues dueled dangerously, inciting them both to greater passion. He clasped her shoulders, making himself go slow, telling himself
Go Slow.
He slid his hand across the damp cotton that covered her breasts all the way down to her belly, wishing the damned nightgown wasn't between his palm and her flesh, but feeling the heat of her even through the thin shift.

He grabbed the bottom edge of it, anxious to get it out of his way, and brushed her thigh with his fingertips. Just her thigh. She tensed slightly but didn't pull away. He managed not to heave a sigh of relief.

It's going to be all right. I'll be able to do this for her.

But he was overeager and excited, worried about whether he would be able to satisfy her, and a moment later his hand accidentally brushed against the soft mound between her legs.

She jerked away from him with a cry of alarm. But he still had hold of the nightgown, and the fragile material tore. He let go, but it was too late. She was already rolled up in a tight, fetal ball with her back to him.

“Jewel—”

“I can't!” she cried. “I can't.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she cringed away.

“Please don't touch me,” she whispered.

He lay staring at her in shock. He should have known better than to try this. He should have known he didn't have the experience to do it right. “What can I do?”

She turned to him, her eyes awash in despair. “I'm sorry, Mac.”

“Aw, Jewel.”

“I thought it would be all right. Because it was you,” she sobbed. “Because you're my friend.”

He would have to confess the truth. He owed her that much. “It isn't you, Jewel, it's me,” he said flatly.

“You're just saying that to make me feel better,” she said.

“No. I'm not.” He forced himself to continue as she stared up at him. “You mustn't be discouraged by what happened here tonight. I'm sure another man, a more experienced man, could have managed things better. I lost control and frightened you.”

“But I trust you,” she protested.

“All the more reason I should have kept my hands off of you.” He huffed out a breath of air and shoved a hand through his hair in agitation.

“When you find a man you love,” he said earnestly, “a man who loves you enough to take his time and do things right, I'm sure you'll be able to get past what happened to you.”

She sat up slowly, her chin sunk to her chest, her hands knotted in front of her knees, which were clutched to her chest. She swallowed hard. “What you're saying is that you're not that man.”

“No. I'm not.”

“I see.”

Evidently not. Evidently he hadn't hinted broadly enough at his inexperience for her to realize the truth.

Now it was too late. In the heat of the moment he might have confessed his virginity. But as his passion cooled, he felt appalled at how close he had come to exposing himself to her laughter.

And she would laugh. It would be gentle laughter, kind laughter, an effervescent bubble of disbelief. But he couldn't bear to hear it.

“If you won't do this for me, I don't know where to turn,” she said at last.

“There are lots of men out there who'd be attracted to you, if you'd let them see your charms.”

She shot him a twisted smile. “You mean my Enormous Endowments?”

“I wouldn't call them that,” he protested with a startled laugh.

“What would you call them?” She thrust her chest out, and his mouth went dry.

He hesitated a heartbeat and said, “Astonishing Assets?”

She laughed, the bubbly, effervescent sound he remembered from long ago. “Oh, God, now I've got you doing it!” She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight against her ribs, effectively hiding the Generous Giants.

“Look, Jewel, for a start, you're going to have to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding behind clothes, behind your hair, behind pillows.” He tugged on the pillow, and she reluctantly gave it up. He was immediately sorry, because it was hard to keep his eyes off her. He could see her brownish-pink nipples beneath the damp cloth.

“It was my breasts that got me into trouble in the first place,” she said. “Can you blame me for wanting to hide them?”

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But hiding your light behind a bushel is not the way to find your Prince Charming. You're going to have to want to attract a man to find the right one.”

“I'm afraid, Mac.”

He saw that in her shadowed eyes. In her drawn features. From the instinctive way she circled her arms protectively around herself. But if he couldn't help her out by making love to her, the least he could do was help her find another man to do it.

“You can start small—no pun intended—and do this in baby steps. You've got to crawl before you can walk.”

“Meaning?”

“Go back to basics, to flirting, to wanting to attract a man's attention.”

“I can't do that.”

“Can't? Or won't?”

“Won't.”

“You can start with me,” he coaxed. “I'll be your lab rat.”

She grinned wryly. “Hold that thought. Man as rat. I like it.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “The idea is for you to start seeing men as
men
—get it?”

“All right,” she conceded with a sigh. “I'll give it a try. Where do I start?”

“Wear some clothes that fit better. Something that shows off—”

“My Plentiful Peaches?”

He laughed. “Actually, yeah, that would do it.”

She slid her legs over the edge of the bad and looked back over her shoulder at him. “I'm not so sure about this, Mac.”

“Believe me, it'll work,” he said, wrapping the sheet around his waist as he rose to follow her to the door. “You'll have the guys around here on their knees begging to take you out.”

She arched a skeptical brow. “You really think so?”

“I guarantee it.”

She paused at the door and put a hand on his naked chest. His heart thudded. His loins throbbed. She searched his face, and he hoped his lurid thoughts weren't apparent.

“What if I attract the wrong kind of attention?” she asked. “What if someone…some man…”

“Start here on the ranch. I'll keep an eye out for you. If any of the cowhands or counselors makes a wrong move, I'll be there. You can use me as your guinea pig.”

“Hmm. Man as pig. I like that even better.”

He laughed and tousled her hair. “Cut it out.”

“You'll help me through this, won't you?” she asked, her heart in her eyes.

“If you want to try out your seductive wiles on someone safe, I'm your man,” he volunteered. He would keep his libido in check if it killed him.

“You don't know how much that means to me, Mac. You really think this will work?”

“It's sure as hell worth a try.”

“Thanks, Mac. Still friends?”

He wrapped his hand around her nape—to keep her at arm's distance—and said, “You bet. And don't worry. Anybody makes the wrong kind of move, I'll cut him off at the pass.”

“My hero,” she said, an impish grin forming on her lips.

“You bet.” He knew he should shove her out the door and put temptation from his path, but he couldn't resist one last kiss.

He leaned down to her, keeping their bodies separated and pressed his mouth against hers with all the gentleness he could muster.

Her lips were pliant under his, soft and supple and incredibly sweet.

“Good night, Jewel. Go to bed and get some sleep.”

“Good night, Mac. You, too.”

He must have nodded, or grunted an assent, because she left the room and closed the door behind her. But he knew damned well he wasn't going to sleep.

Mac replayed the events of the evening in his head. If only he'd had more experience. If only his hand hadn't brushed against her and scared her. If only he'd known what to do to reassure her.

What was done was done. He'd had his chance and he'd blown it. The least he could do was help her find another guy to help her out, while keeping his own hormones in check. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her again. Which meant he'd better make sure she never found out her Beautiful Breasts turned him hard as a rock.

If she was going to start wearing clothes that fit, he'd better go shopping for some baggy jeans.

J
EWEL DECIDED THE BEST WAY TO AVOID
hiding behind her hair was to remove that option. She drove to the Stonecreek Ranch at the crack of dawn to have her sister Cherry whack it off. She had known Cherry would understand what she wanted to do and help her because, of all her adopted brothers and sisters, Cherry understood best what it meant to feel different.

Cherry was the last Whitelaw Brat to be adopted and had come to the family when she was fourteen, an extremely tall, redheaded, blue-eyed Irish girl—and an incorrigible juvenile delinquent. Jewel had been closest to her in age, only a year older. After a rocky start, during which Cherry did her best to break every rule—and offend every member—in the Whitelaw household, they had ended up becoming best friends.

The night Cherry was accused of spiking the punch bowl at the senior prom and expelled from high school, she had eloped with Billy Stonecreek to avoiding facing Zach and Rebecca. Cherry had become an instant mom to Billy's twin six-year-old daughters Raejean and Annie. Three years later, Cherry was six months pregnant, and as far as Jewel could tell, happy as a cat in a dairy.

Cherry had made the Stonecreek Ranch a comfortable place to live, substituting leather and wood furniture for the silks and satins bought by Billy's first wife, Laura, who had died in a car accident. Jewel was surprised, when she showed up at Cherry's back screen door unannounced, to catch her sister and brother-in-law kissing in the kitchen.

It wasn't the kiss that shocked her. It was the passion behind it. Billy's hands avidly cupped Cherry's breasts, and her hands clutched his buttocks. They were pressed together like flies on flypaper.

She cleared her throat noisily. “Excuse me.”

Jewel imagined a ripping sound as they sprang apart.

“Jewel!” Cherry exclaimed, her voice revealing both relief and irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“Obviously interrupting something important,” Jewel said with a teasing grin.

Her sister flushed a delightful pink, and Billy stuck his hands in his front pockets, a move that didn't do as much as he probably hoped to hide his state of arousal.

Jewel felt a little guilty for intruding, and if it hadn't been an emergency she might have turned and left. But she was afraid she would lose her nerve if she waited. She stepped into the kitchen, careful not to let the screen door slam behind her and wake the twins. “I need my hair cut. Could you do it for me?”

“Now?” Cherry asked, her brows rising practically to her hairline.

“Yes, now.”

Jewel was wearing a sleeveless white knit shell and tight-fitting jeans that had been shut away in a drawer for six years. She watched as Cherry perused her attire and exchanged a look with Billy, whose eyes had opened wide with astonishment once she stepped inside. Jewel resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She was going to have to get used to men looking at her.

“Hi, Billy,” she said.

“Hi, Jewel.” It came out as a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You look…” He searched for a word and came up with, “Nice. What's the occasion?”

He was clearly curious, as she suspected her family would be, about why she was suddenly exposing assets she had kept hidden for the past six years. “No occasion,” she said. “I just want to get my hair cut. Can you help me out?” she asked Cherry.

“Sure,” Cherry said. She turned to Billy. “You don't mind if we postpone breakfast for half an hour, do you?”

“I've got some chores I can do in the barn. Give a holler when you want me.” Billy grabbed his Stetson from the antler rack on the wall and headed out the screen door. Cherry caught it before it could slam.

“All right,” Cherry said once she had scissors in hand and Jewel was settled in a kitchen chair with a towel around her shoulders. “Spill the jelly beans. What's going on?”

“Nothing much.”

“For the first time in six years I can see you have breasts,” Cherry retorted tartly. “Believe me, anyone seeing your breasts for the first time wouldn't say they're ‘nothing much.'”

Jewel laughed. That was why she liked Cherry so much. She didn't pull her punches. Cherry said exactly what she was thinking, even if it wasn't necessarily what you wanted to hear.

“I had a talk with Mac Macready last night,” Jewel said. “He convinced me it's time to come out of my shell.”

“I see,” Cherry said.

Jewel realized Cherry was
seeing
a great deal more than she wished or intended. “It isn't like that.”

“Like what?”

“It's not Mac I'm trying to attract.”

“It isn't?”

“No. Not that I don't love him dearly. I do. As a friend.”

“A
friend,
” Cherry repeated.

Jewel winced as nine-inch-long hanks of brown hair began falling to the kitchen floor. There was no turning back now. “A friend,” she confirmed.

“And this
friend
suggested you'd look better in skintight jeans and short hair?”

Jewel laughed. “Not exactly. He simply said I should dress to attract a man.”

“What you're wearing ought to do it,” Cherry confirmed.

“You think so? It's not too…enticing?”

“You're dressed fine, Jewel. Half the young women in this country are probably wearing similar outfits this morning. You can't help it if you have big breasts.”

Jewel noticed Cherry said it without the capital B's. Jewel automatically thought Big Breasts, something she was going to have to get over if she was going to have any hope of surviving this metamorphosis.

“There,” Cherry said, surveying her handiwork. “A few turns with my curling iron, and I think you'll be pleased with the result.”

When Cherry was done, she held a mirror in front of Jewel's face. “Take a look.”

Her hair swept along her chin in a shiny bob, with soft bangs across her brow. Jewel sighed. “Oh, Cherry, you're a marvel. I look—”

“Cute,” Cherry said with an irreverent laugh. “No getting around it. You're darned cute.”

“I'm twenty-two. That's too old for cute. Besides, my features are too ordinary to be—”

“Cute,” Cherry persisted with a grin. “Let me call Billy, and he can confirm it.” She called out the door for Billy, who bounded up the back steps and into the kitchen.

He paused in the acting of pulling off his leather work gloves as he looked Jewel up and down. “Who would've believed a haircut could make such a difference?”

“Isn't she cute?” Cherry asked.

“Sexy,” Billy countered. When his wife nudged him in the ribs, he amended, “Sexy and cute.”

Jewel's brow furrowed. She had never been pretty, and “cute” sounded like something you said about a one-year-old with a lollipop. One glance down explained the “sexy.” Jewel felt the heat start in her throat and work its way up her neck to sit like red flags on her cheeks. “Good God,” she said. “Have you got an extra shirt I can borrow?” she asked Billy.

“What for?” Billy said.

“She wants to go back into hiding,” Cherry said scornfully. “Well, we're not going to help you do it. You turn right around and head out that door with your head held high. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. What happened to you six years ago wasn't your fault. It's about time you shoved Harvey Barnes out of your life and started enjoying it again.”

“That's pretty much what Mac said.”

“Good for Mac,” Cherry said. “Am I going to have to go with you to make sure you don't cover yourself up like a nun?”

“No,” Jewel conceded with a chagrined look. “I'll be all right.”

“Stand up straight and enjoy the looks you get. Because you darn sure deserve them!”

“Thanks, Cherry,” Jewel said, giving her sister a quick hug. “Thanks for everything.”

Her brother-in-law gave her a quick hug and teased, “Definitely sexy. Go get 'em, Jewel.”

Cherry and Billy stood arm in arm on the back porch waving as she drove away. They were already kissing again as the dust rose behind her pickup.

It wasn't easy resisting the urge to slip a long-sleeved shirt over the figure-exposing knit shell the instant she returned home. It would have been easier if Mac had been there waiting, and she could have gotten that first meeting over with.

But he wasn't there.

She had left a note hanging on Mac's door when she snuck out to get her hair cut. The note she found stuck on her door when she got back said that he had taped up his ankle and gone walking despite the sprain. She left a third note for Mac saying that she was eating breakfast with her family and inviting him to join them, then left the cottage before she lost her courage.

Jewel figured it couldn't hurt to have a buffer between her and Mac when he saw her for the first time in her new guise. Not that she thought he wouldn't approve. After all, it had been his idea for her to feature her assets more prominently. But after last night…

In the bright light of day, Jewel found it hard to believe she had crossed the hall to Mac's bedroom last night. Or that she had actually asked him to make love to her. Or that he had refused.

She wished he had done it before kissing her. Good Lord. Who would have thought a kiss from Mac Macready could turn her to mush like that? His lips had been soft and slightly damp, and he had tasted…like Mac. Familiar and good.

If that was all she had felt, she would never have gotten frightened the way she had. But there had also been something dark and dangerous about his kisses. A threat of leashed passion that once freed might…When Mac had accidentally touched her, that awful sense of powerlessness had returned, and the bad memories had all come crashing down on her.

She couldn't blame Mac for backing away like he had. What man wouldn't cut his losses? Mac had gently but firmly told her to find somebody else to make love to her. He wasn't available for the job.

She didn't want somebody else, she had realized. She wanted Mac. Which was why she was dressed like this. Cherry had seen right through her feeble protests. The only man she wanted to attract was Mac Macready. She would never have found the courage to shed her protective skin of clothing if she hadn't conceded this was one sure way of getting Mac's attention.

He had certainly seemed interested last night. That is, before she had gotten scared and scared him off. Before he had accidentally touched her below the waist, everything had been wonderful. Her knee-jerk reaction had come before her rational mind could tell her it was Mac.

That had been followed by the disturbing thought that maybe even Mac couldn't make it all right. That maybe she would forever fear a man's touch in bed. She had kept herself curled up in a ball to avoid testing the truth. Because that possibility was too devastating to contemplate.

Jewel was determined to get over her fear. She was determined to give Mac another chance. And she wanted Mac to want another chance. She was understandably nervous about her next meeting with him. It made a lot of sense to diffuse the situation by including her family in the equation. Hence the unusual visit to her family's breakfast table. This morning she needed the support they had always given her. She wanted their reassurance that she looked all right, that she would not “stick out” in a crowd.

Jewel could smell biscuits and bacon through the screen door. She smiled and stepped inside, knowing she would find the warmth of hearth and home. She stopped just inside the door, enjoying the cacophony of seven voices—Rolleen was away at medical school—raised in excited chatter.

“Wow! You look different!”

Jewel smiled self-consciously at Colt as she settled into an empty chair at the breakfast table. She was tempted to slump down, but forced herself to sit up straight. This was the new and improved Jewel Whitelaw.

Her mom gave her a bright smile and said, “You look lovely today, sweetheart.”

“Why'd you cut off all your—”

Nineteen-year-old Jake elbowed fifteen-year-old Rabbit to shut him up. “You look real nice, Jewel,” Jake said. He exchanged a knowing look with their father at the head of the table.

Jewel felt her cheeks heating. They had noticed the difference, all right, but so far had avoided commenting directly on it. She decided to keep their attention focused on her hair. “It's been so hot lately, I decided to get a trim,” she said to appease the curious looks she was getting from sixteen-year-old Frannie and twenty-year-old Avery.

“Good idea,” her father said, buttering a fluffy biscuit.

“I've got some time this morning if you need any last-minute help getting ready for the first drove of campers,” her mother offered, as she set a bowl of scrambled eggs and a second platter of bacon in the center of the table.

“Everything's under control, Mom,” Jewel said.