Hotter Than Hell (23 page)

A small grove of cottonwoods crouched over an unexpected green jewel nestled in the brown setting of the plain. Cat thought gratefully of water, even if it wasn’t sterilized and out of a tap.

Another dozen yards revealed a tiny pool and the bubbling of a spring. A pair of pronghorn antelope sprang away from the bank, white rumps flashing. The stallion ignored them and paced to the water’s edge. He twisted his head back to look at Cat.

His message was clear enough. Cat slid from his back, staggered a little as she got her land legs again, and sat down under the shade of a cottonwood. The stallion dipped his muzzle into the pool and drank.

“I can’t just keep calling you ‘the stallion,’ you know,” Cat said. “You’re black as a storm cloud. Let me see if I can remember…” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. What about
trueno
? That’s ‘thunder.’ Nice and succinct.”

Trueno bobbed his head. Cat chuckled and stretched out on the green grass. It was well into mid-morning and not by any means hot, but Cat keenly felt the confinement of her clothing. She removed her jacket and scarf, undid the top several buttons of her shirt and kicked off her boots.

She should have been thinking about where she was and how she’d get back to the ranch. She should have asked herself a few more questions about why the stallion had behaved as he had, why she’d climbed onto his back with a complete lack of the most basic common sense.

But she didn’t. She closed her eyes, blissfully relaxed, and dozed while Trueno grazed nearby. Once or twice she woke, noted vaguely that the sun had moved again, and sank back into sleep.

The forest closed in around them, a perfect bower for secret lovers. Firm lips pressed against hers, demanding entrance. She opened her mouth in a cry of surprise and a warm, insistent tongue thrust into her mouth, hungry and caressing. She felt calloused fingers inside her blouse, circling her nipples. She gloried in the heat of a hard, lean body stretched out beside her. Wetness pooled between her legs.

“
Sí
, my beautiful one,” he said, running his tongue over her lips. With long, lean fingers he pushed her blouse above her breasts. “
Muy linda
,” he murmured.

She gasped as he bent and took her nipple in his mouth. Dark, unruly hair brushed against her face and shoulders. She whimpered while he suckled her, licking and kissing and grazing her breasts with his teeth.

She was so close, so close to something wonderful. Somehow she knew that if she opened her eyes, the pleasure would stop. If she dared to question, even for a moment, it would all go away….

Cat opened her eyes. The sky was dark and studded with stars. The branches of the cottonwood shivered overhead. And she remembered.

The man didn’t resist as she pushed him away. In one fluid motion he detached himself and settled into a crouch, pale eyes catching moonlight.

Oh, God.
She’d seen him before. He was the cowboy she’d met last night. And he had been…doing things to her. While she slept. And in her dreams.

With trembling fingers she buttoned her shirt. Her nipples were wet from his kisses. Her mouth throbbed. She nearly groaned with the intensity of her arousal. She stared at the stranger’s lips and slowly raised her eyes to his.

“
Señorita,
” he said, his voice husky and low.

Cat scooted away. “I warn you. I can fight. If you try anything—”

He shook his head. “Oh, no,
señorita
. I will not do anything you do not wish me to do.”

His long hair drifted across his face, softening the angles of his cheekbones and jaw. Cat’s heart was beating hard enough to be heard in California. She had been lying there, doing nothing, believing it was all another dream. But
he
was real. And she’d wanted him to keep on doing what he was doing, both in the dream and in reality. She still did.

“Where is my horse?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

He stood up. Her eyes were level with his hips. There was no mistaking his impressive erection.

“Don’t worry,
querida.
He is here.”

Cat glanced around. If the stallion were more than a few feet away, she wouldn’t be able to see his black coat in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Cat demanded. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head. She saw that he wore the same shirt as he had last night, but it was unbuttoned almost to his waist. Sleek black hair dusted his chest. His pecs were beautifully developed, his stomach ridged with muscle.

“My name,” he said, “is Andrés. And you are Catalina.”

The sound of her name on his tongue left her shaken. God, he was beautiful. All she had to do was hold out her arms, and he would take her. Just like that. A stranger she wanted with every fiber of her being.

Not a stranger
, her heart insisted. You know him. You
know
him….

“You aren’t afraid,” he said. “You will never be afraid of me.”

“I…” She swallowed. “I’m going to find my horse and leave.”

“It would be far wiser for you to remain here until sunrise.”

He was right, damn him. She couldn’t risk letting Trueno hurt himself as Kelpie had, presuming she could get the stallion to come to her in the first place.

Andrés dropped back into a crouch, his arms draped over his knees. “You will suffer no harm from me,
señorita,
” he said. “Or is it
señora
?”

Cat couldn’t quite believe that he was asking her such questions after what he’d been doing. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

His smile was devastating. “You are no virgin, Catalina. Your response was…most satisfactory.”

Satisfactory. Cat suppressed a moan. “You…you don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you deny your own passions,
mi gatita
.”

“I don’t deny anyth—” Cat stopped, stung with outrage. “Gatita”—kitten—was what her grandmother had called her when she was a child. Andrés whoever-he-was had no right to use that nickname. No right.

“I don’t generally welcome the advances of total strangers,” she said.

“And if I were not a stranger?”

His question compelled her to relive the dream in all its astonishing detail. Why did it seem almost like a memory? Why was part of her so convinced that she had lain in Andrés’s arms in another life?

Cat dug her fingers into the bark of the tree trunk. This was ridiculous. The dream didn’t mean a thing, except that her fantasy life had become a little too vivid. Vivid enough to make her lose her hard-won control. Here she was, holding a normal conversation with a stranger who was clearly crazy and possibly dangerous.

Except he hadn’t hurt her. He’d backed off when she told him to. For all her legal expertise, she couldn’t define the man who crouched before her.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked.

“Follow you,
señorita?
But I did not.”

“Are you saying you’ve been here all along?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

“On my own feet.”

Hostile, indeed. “Where do you live?”

“I call no place home.”

No horse, no home, apparently no vehicle or significant belongings. But if he were truly an indigent, he’d probably be in much worse shape than he was. No one could claim he was anything but hardy, healthy, and unmistakably virile.

He could still be certifiably insane.

She folded her arms tightly across her chest. She’d slept through most of the afternoon and a good portion of the night, and yet her legs were growing heavy and her thoughts were sluggish. She was very much afraid that she’d begin to ramble if she tried to keep the conversation going much longer.

“You are tired,” Andrés said. “Sleep,
gatita
. No harm will come to you.”

Laughter bubbled out of her throat before she could stop it. “I think I’ll stay awake, thank you very much.”

Andrés stretched out where he was and made himself comfortable, resting on his elbow. “You were not always so frightened,” he said.

Cat straightened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You are from
la ciudad
, are you not?”

“I’m from Los Angeles. What of it?”

“I have heard that your great cities have no soul, that those who live in them have forgotten the look of the sky and the feel of the earth.”

“That’s crazy.”
Careful
. “Haven’t you been to a city before?”

“Sí.
Long ago, in another place.” His gaze turned inward, remembering. “I had no love for them, even then. It is why I came to this continent.”

“You’re not from Mexico?”

His eyes cleared. “Did your own people not come from
Méjico
?”

“My grandmother was born there. She journeyed alone to the United States when she was sixteen.”

“Was it she who named you?”

“Catalina was her name.”

“Ah.” He plucked a blade of dry, fringed grass from a clump near his shoulder. “Do you know its meaning?” He twirled the grass between his fingers. “Pure. Innocent. When did you lose your innocence,
mi gatita
? What is the name of the man who hurt you?”

“No one hurt me.”

“Your eyes betray you,
querida
. Was he your
esposo?
”

“The subject is private.”

He got to his feet with that same feral grace and approached her, hands loose at his sides. “He was not the man for you. He mistreated you. He gave you no pleasure.”

Cat blinked, startled to realize that she was on the brink of tears. “He didn’t…It had nothing to do with—”

“You would blame yourself?” He stopped with the tips of his boots touching hers, such gentleness in his expression that she could hardly bear it.

“No. I should never have…I thought I knew what I wanted.”

“And still you do not know.” He lifted his hand, his fingers lightly touching her cheek. “I could teach you.”

Her mind told her to jerk away, but her body held her captive to his caresses. “I came here…to be alone.”

“So alone.” He leaned into her, lips parted. His body pressed her thighs and hip and breast. His mouth closed over hers, tongue seeking.

Cat plunged into a maelstrom of desire. She returned the kiss, panting with excitement. She had no defense when he seized both of her wrists and pulled them up above her head, trapping them against the cottonwood’s trunk. He held her easily with one hand while his other stroked her face, trailed over her breasts and paused to unfasten the button of her jeans.

The rational part of Cat’s brain knew how simple it would be for him to complete what he’d begun while she slept. How easy it would be to give in.

His fingers slipped under her panties, teasing hot and swollen flesh.

“So wet,” he murmured into her ear. “So ready for me.”

“I…I don’t…”

He traced her lips with his tongue while his fingers circled. “You do,” he said. “Tell me,
gatita
. Tell me what you want.”

She tried to answer, but he didn’t wait. He withdrew his hand and began to push her jeans down her thighs, working her panties off as he cupped her bottom. He released her hands and held her with the weight of his body while he unzipped his jeans. The heat of his cock caressed her inner thigh, eased over slick flesh, thrust aggressively against her damp curls.

Sanity returned like a blast of icy wind. Panic gave Cat strength she didn’t know she had. A sharp shove was enough to throw Andrés off balance. Cat stumbled away from the cottonwood and stopped, frozen by emotions that demanded more of her than she could ever give.

Andrés turned to face her, his expression unreadable. Slowly he bent and picked up her jeans. He tossed them toward her, and she caught them reflexively.

“I see that the time is not yet right,” he said. “But it will come, Catalina. It will come.”

Without another word he walked into the darkness. Cat pulled on her jeans, fingers numb and trembling. She could think of nothing but getting far away from this place, even if she had to walk all the way back to the ranch. It wasn’t fear of Andrés that drove her. It was fear of herself.

With only the vaguest idea of direction, she began to run, her ears straining for sounds of pursuit. Andrés didn’t follow. After ten minutes Cat’s legs were aching and her lungs burned for air. She slowed to a jog and then a fast walk. The vast sky had paled to sapphire, the stars flickering out one by one.

She estimated that she’d gone about two miles when Trueno reappeared. He trotted up alongside her, neck arched and hooves dancing as if he had nothing for which to be ashamed.

Cat stopped, chilled by the sweat cooling on her body. “Where have you been?” she asked, more weary than angry. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to disappear.”

Trueno gazed at her without the slightest hint of shame. Cat laughed. “Of course not. You’re only an animal. I was the stupid one.”

The stallion shook his head with broad movements of his neck and shoulders.

“Yes. Stupid. I guess I’ve learned my lesson.” She began walking again, already contemplating what Turk and Pilar would say when she finally appeared at the ranch, windblown and limping from a bootful of blisters. Trueno slowed his walk to keep pace with her, occasionally lipping her collar or nickering in her ear. She pushed his head away.

“Someone must be missing you,” she said. “Go home, horse.”

He cut in front of her, pivoted around and butted her in the chest.

“Sorry. I’d rather walk this time.”