Only Skin Deep (4 page)

He was in the process of unhitching his boots from his stool when a big cowboy tipped his hat in Lauren's direction and made his move to cash in on the drinks he'd bought the two women earlier. Travis shouldn't have been so surprised to see that Lauren could hold her own on the dance floor. Anyone who could survive a two-step with Fenton Marsh should manage well enough with the kind of men who frequented The Alibi. Such hard-drinking skirt chasers were often deceptively light on their feet.

Travis watched closely to make sure no one slipped anything into her drink. Unfortunately, date rape drugs were no longer confined to big cities.

He saw her laugh as her partner spun her around, caught her in the crook his arm and dipped her precariously close to the floor. As the final strains of the song died away, Travis could hear her deep-throated laugh and watched in disgust as men lined up like dominoes for an opportunity to gain her affection. Had Lauren known the score, it might have been amusing to watch, but he doubted she could figure that particular number with a preprogrammed calculator. She didn't have the chance to make it back to her table before another guy tapped her on the shoulder and asked her for the next dance.

“The lady's with me,” the big cowboy grumbled threateningly.

Because Lauren was after maximum exposure tonight, hoping to get her name circulating among the single men in the community, she wasn't about to limit herself to just one suitor so early in the evening. She smiled sweetly at the cowboy who'd bought both Claire and her yet another round of drinks so that it would be hard for him to think he'd wasted his money.

“I'll save the next dance for you,” she promised.

While Lauren had been dancing, Claire had connected with one of the pool players who'd caught her eye and now was leaving with him. Lauren waved goodbye as she made her way back to a table now loaded down with a wide assortment of drinks. She was startled to see Travis sitting there frowning at her.

“Grab your coat,” he growled, scooting his chair right up next to hers so he didn't have to scream to make himself heard. “I'm taking you home.”

Thinking he was worried that her friend had left her stranded, she hastened to assure him. “I have my own vehicle.”

She enunciated each word carefully so he wouldn't suspect that she'd had a teensy bit too much to drink already. The best cure for that, she was sure, was to burn off any excess alcohol on the dance floor.

“You can leave your car here overnight.”

Wondering why her powers of invisibility were suddenly failing to protect her from someone who'd never hesitated to look through her before, Lauren shook her
head to the contrary. Not wanting to appear ungrateful for all the money that had been spent on her over the course of an hour, she took a sip from every drink lined up in front of her. The variety of alcohol was working its way though a body unused to more than an occasional glass of sherry during the holidays.

Travis was feeling the heat of at least half a dozen other men glaring at him. He fixed a deceptively neutral smile on his face. He'd timed his request for Lauren to get out of Dodge to coincide with Ox's trip to the bathroom, and her stubborn refusal to leave while she was having so much fun was jeopardizing his careful planning.

“Stick around, doll,” interjected a swarthy guy from the next table. “I'll take you home whenever you want.”

Barely an inch separated the man's head from his shoulders.

Travis's muscles tensed. Whether Lauren knew it or not, she was in way over her head. If his own sister Callie ever found herself in such a predicament, he hoped to hell someone would step in and save her from herself. Of course with spitfire Callie the likelihood was that somebody just might need to save the stranger
from
her.

Still, Travis would never forgive himself if a woman came to harm and he'd stood by and done nothing to prevent it. His mother had drummed it into his head that it was a man's obligation to protect a lady. No matter how crazy that lady might be acting….

A meaty hand came down on Lauren's shoulder.

“Forget it, buddy. She's going home with me,” a hostile voice announced from behind Travis.

Apparently having finished up his business in the men's room, the cowboy was not at all happy with the prospect of being shot out of the saddle. Though not as stocky and compact in build as this one, the guy at the next table was by no means a weakling. When he stood up to kick his chair out of the way, Travis recognized him as Toss Weaver. He had come by his name in this very establishment—by tossing a competitor in a strong man competition across the ring. To this day the other man remained disabled.

Toss's favorite way of provoking a fight was to knock a Stetson off some drunk cowboy's head and stomp it into the ground. As a preventative measure, Lauren's suitor took off his hat and set it in the middle of the table.

“There's no reason to—” Lauren began to say.

“Shut up!” Toss said, not so much as glancing at her.

That was as far as Travis was willing to let things go. Dropping a hand beside his thigh, he grabbed the leg of Lauren's chair and, doing his best to avoid drawing attention to the act, dragged them both several feet back from the table. Having suffered more than his fair share of black eyes over the years in the name of chivalry, Travis wasn't particularly inclined to step between two giants who looked as though they belonged in a Grimm's fairy tale.

A second later, the cowboy lunged over the table. Beer flew everywhere. Taking hold of Lauren by the wrist, Travis pulled her out of her chair.

“What do you think you're doing?” she protested.

So much for the eternal gratitude of a damsel in dis
tress,
Travis thought as he hauled her out of harm's way, a direction that happened to take them toward the dance floor.

The sound of vile swearing, tables breaking and glass shattering immediately drew a crowd. Unfazed, the band played on, if anything more loudly than before. Tightening his grip, Travis swung his free arm around Lauren with the easy familiarity of a man claiming his woman. Then he unobtrusively proceeded to waltz her around the few remaining couples on the dance floor toward the back door. A siren wailed out front.

“But shouldn't we—”

Travis cut the question off by gently pressing her head against the hollow of his shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair and inhaled the scent that had haunted him since the last time she'd worn it for his benefit. It was far more intoxicating than anything he'd had to drink.

Lauren snuggled up against him and followed his lead. Considering her alcohol consumption for the evening, she moved well to the beat of the music. That she felt even better than she smelled said a lot for his restraint at the moment.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

Goose bumps rose along Travis's neck. A dimly lit exit sign glowed through the haze of cigarette smoke less than a dozen steps away. He barely had time to react to the surge of tenderness that welled up in his heart and sent an unmistakable tingling sensation to a part of his body even less inclined to follow the rules of logic.

Cool air hit them both in a refreshing blast as Travis maneuvered his way out of the hot bar and into the night. Cat eyes that seemed more magical every time he looked into them widened in surprise as Lauren realized with a start that she was no longer inside. It was hard to think that just a couple of days ago Travis had considered this woman plain. Then again, a couple of days ago he'd also acted out of a sense of almost brotherly concern when he'd offered to rent Lauren a place for next to nothing.

Studying her flushed face in the glow of the moon and the reflection of flashing police car lights arriving on the scene, Travis realized with a start that he was no longer feeling the least bit fraternal toward this woman. And that was far more intimidating to him than any Neanderthal who might be waiting for him inside the bar.

N
ot quite sure what to make of the feelings she stirred in him, Travis grumbled, “Lady, why is it I always end up with drinks spilled all over me whenever you're even close to a dance floor?”

Lauren leveled a scowl at him. “Maybe because you keep getting in my way.”

Travis took a step back. After risking life and limb for her, he couldn't believe Lauren actually had the audacity to be angry
with him.
Thinking he could coax an apology out of her, he tried making his point with sarcasm.

“Given the way you're feeling, I take it that a thank-you is out of the question then?” he asked.

Lauren's eyes glittered. “For what? Cutting my evening short?”

Too much of a gentleman to simply walk away and leave her to catch a ride home in the back of a cop car, Travis was nonetheless tempted to let Pinedale's finest see if they could talk any sense into this confounding woman. One minute Ms. Lauren Hewett was as bland as vanilla pudding, the next so damned hot half the men in town were crawling and brawling all over her. And she was treating him as if he were some kind of wet blanket. It was too damned bad that Lauren didn't realize she should be grateful that he was around to keep a watchful eye out for her. That he cared enough to stick his neck out on her behalf. That he'd rushed to her rescue.

“For saving your virtue for starters,” he ventured to explain.

Given his usual nonjudgmental attitude toward sex, those words sounded stilted even to his own ears. He knew what century this was. Maybe he thought such old-fashioned values would appeal to the type of woman he'd always assumed Lauren was. Maybe he just needed to believe that there was at least one single woman left on the planet worthy of being placed on a pedestal.

But Lauren didn't think twice about jumping off that shining platform and hitting him full in the face with her own version of reality.

“It isn't my virtue that's in jeopardy, you fool! It's my future.”

Travis shook his head at the benign insult she hurled at him. She looked mad enough to march straight back into that full-blown barroom fray just to prove her point. He had to fight back a grin at the thought of her taking
on Toss Weaver single-handedly—and winning. When Travis put a restraining hand on her elbow, she threatened him with the kind of seething look that had the power to quiet an entire room of rowdy students.

“Listen,” she explained in a rush of exasperation that actually ruffled her bangs. “I suppose you think I should feel indebted to you for ‘saving' me in there. But the truth of the matter is I had more fun tonight than I can remember having in a long, long time. Maybe it's wrong of me to feel a tiny thrill that a couple of brawny guys actually got into a fight over me, but I can guarantee you it was a whole lot more exciting than anything that was going to happen at the church social tonight.”

Captivated by the sparkle in those green eyes, Travis nonetheless felt obliged to point out the most obvious flaw in her logic.

“Your plan to march one of those drunken cavemen to the altar would work better in Vegas,” he snapped. “Here, it'll just lead to a cheap hotel room or the back seat of a car parked far enough out of town so that nobody can hear your screams.”

Shaken by the warning and hurt by Travis's assumption that she was desperate enough to marry just
anybody,
Lauren fumbled for the keys in her purse.

“Why don't you just let go of my arm and any preconceived notions about my virtue before you tuck yourself in for the night?” she snapped.

Her words were slightly slurred, and Travis questioned her articulation of the word “tuck.” Whatever in
sults she hurled at him didn't warrant letting her behind the wheel of a car in her condition.

“Friends don't let their renters drive drunk,” he mumbled to himself.

Lauren jerked her arm out of his grasp.

“Let go of me!”

The confrontational act drew a nearby policeman's attention. The next thing Travis knew the officer was heading in their direction, presumably to check out the typical domestic disputes that occur outside of bars late at night. Keeping a cool head about him, Travis did what he had to do to quell any suspicions that Lauren needed to be saved
from
him.

He kissed her.

An act intended only to shut her up blossomed into something far less practical as Lauren proceeded to dissolve in his arms. Travis had been preoccupied with kissing her again ever since she'd shocked him with that sweet little peck at the wedding reception. Seizing the opportunity to simultaneously satisfy his curiosity and allay the officer's concern, he cradled the back of her head in one hand, covered her mouth with his own and effectively stifled any protest she might have been about to make.

She tasted even sweeter than he remembered. But behind that sweetness burned a red-hot appetite. Far away from the constraints of proper society, Lauren yielded to his demands without a fight. The teacher proved an apt pupil, letting out a tiny gasp of surprise when Travis's tongue parted her lips and exacted a full re
sponse from her. As her gasp quickly turned to a satisfied moan, a stab of desire pierced his groin.

The kiss was purely sexual, wet and full of reckless desire. And it happened so fast that Lauren simply responded.

With every ounce of her being.

Melting against him, she inadvertently forced him to pull her so snugly against the length of his body that there was no doubt left just what power she exercised over him. Mating her tongue against his, she stoked the fire that threatened to destroy all rational thought and made it impossible for him to turn back. Travis tightened his grip around her waist at the thought of some bully from the bar taking advantage of her. A surge of possessiveness engulfed him as he proceeded to devour her.

 

It wasn't the night air alone putting goose bumps on Lauren's bare arms. Nor the alcohol making the ground move beneath her feet. She had dreamed of this moment since she was a dewy-eyed freshman in high school. But none of her adolescent fantasies measured up to the reality of kissing Travis Banks. Achingly, painfully wonderful, his kisses defied description.

Lauren didn't notice the streetlamp dimming in seeming deference to the electricity arcing between them. Nor did she pay any attention to the fact that her expensive little purse slipped from her grasp and found a home at her feet. She was too preoccupied with the way Travis's big, masculine hands were so thoroughly exploring her curves and turning her bones to liquid.
How his tongue explored the inner texture and curve of her lips. How hers slid in and out of his mouth, sharing the taste of fine whiskey and making her feel light-headed and giddy.

Pressed against the hard plane of his chest, her breasts tingled, and her nipples hardened into tight buds. Blood pounded in her ears, and a demanding primal sensation tugged at the muscles of her belly. Her knees turned to jelly. She tried steadying herself by wrapping her arms around Travis's chest but discovered that she could not lace her fingers together to span its impressive width. Raising her arms to let them rest on his broad shoulders, she feathered fingers through hair as silky as his kisses. By the time he had his fill of her, Lauren felt perfectly ravaged.

Perfectly.

When finally Travis pulled away, he took a deep breath before resting his chin on the top of her head. A purr of pleasure rumbled against Lauren's throat as she braced her hands against his chest. Heat radiated from beneath a shirt damp with sweat, and she felt the play of muscles under her fingers before finally letting her arms fall to her sides.

Travis waved at the policeman who had been stopped in his tracks by the amorous display. “Everything's under control over here, Officer.”

Having felt his heart beating so wildly against her own, Lauren was not fooled by the remark. Travis was no more under control than she was. A bubble of feminine pride caught in her chest at the telltale bulge behind the button fly of his jeans.

By the time she retrieved her purse, their conscientious policeman had returned to his squad car and turned his attention to less lusty matters—like assisting an enraged Toss Weaver into the back seat of his free “tipsy taxi.” The effects of too many sips from too many drinks combined with the lingering intoxication of Travis's kisses left Lauren ready to call it a night. It would be pointless to go back into the bar now thinking she could possibly find anyone who could kiss better than the man who still had his arms around her. Putting a hand to her head, she tried to steady the world swimming about her.

Suddenly meek she asked, “Are you sure you wouldn't mind taking me home?”

Travis stated the obvious with a relieved smile. “You're right on my way, darling.”

He guided Lauren over to his pickup, opened the door for her, swept her off her feet and proceeded to set her into the front seat as easily as he might a rag doll. He then grabbed the seat belt and dragged it across the front of her body to buckle her in. His touch burned through her clothes. Completely innocuous in nature, the act of his forearm brushing against the swell of her breast felt so very intimate that it sucked the breath right out of Lauren's lungs. She attempted to resuscitate herself while Travis walked around the vehicle and settled himself behind the wheel.

Despite the cool night temperature and the fact that the heater was shut off, the air in the vehicle was warm, charged by some unknown completely unpredictable force.

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” he asked.

“By all means.”

Travis might need the noise to keep him from falling asleep, but Lauren had never felt more alive and awake in her life. She was too pumped up by the events of the evening to so much as close her eyes.

Sexual tension crackled like the static accompanying the country song playing on the radio. She studied the masculine hands draped over the steering wheel. Hands that propelled a football so powerfully down a field all those many years ago were scarred by hard physical labor. Everyone knew Travis to be a wealthy man. Lauren always thought of him as a gentleman rancher who parceled out the most demanding jobs to his hired hands. Scrutinizing those hands that she had once fantasized all over her body made Lauren realize that she had grossly oversimplified his life since she knew him in high school.

Resting her head against the leather seat back, she ventured where angels dared to tread.

“Do you mind telling me exactly what happened between Jaclyn and you? Everyone thought the two of you were the perfect couple.”

Jaclyn had been model-thin and gorgeous. Polished and sophisticated. Lauren couldn't imagine a scenario in which two such beautiful people faced any problem so insurmountable that it ended in divorce. The silence that followed her question was long but not particularly sharp.

“I guess we just wanted different things,” Travis fi
nally answered under cover of darkness. “Different lives.”

Though his words were spoken softly, they failed to hide the bitterness he felt over his failed marriage. He surprised himself by continuing.

“In the end, we couldn't seem to agree about anything.”

“Like what?”

Travis sighed.

“Like whether children are a blessing or a curse. Whether Wyoming is heaven or hell on earth. Whether or not she could make me jealous. Whether marriage is a true partnership or a license to change one another. And whether any amount of money could ever settle our differences.”

“I guess that's what they call irreconcilable differences,” Lauren said in a small voice. It hurt her to hear the angst and self-recrimination in his voice, and she wished there was something she could say to lessen his pain. She wondered which of them had been opposed to having children.

“That's what the divorce papers said, and I'd just as soon leave it at that as pick away at the scars looking for blame.”

Though Travis had barely scratched the surface of his complicated relationship, Lauren recognized his anguish in the way he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that it made his knuckles turn white by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Impressed that he hadn't used the opportunity to vilify his ex-wife like so many divorced men who enjoy wallowing in that game, she was
moved to reach across the seat and pat Travis's leg reassuringly. The harmless gesture sent a frisson of electricity through her entire body, reminding her that the man she used to dream of was no figment of her imagination but truly made of flesh and blood.

Just like her.

Travis took a hand from the steering wheel to cover the one resting on his thigh.

“Darlin', do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”

Torn from a throat raw from secondhand cigarette smoke, the question held a tacit threat.

And an unspoken promise…

For the second time that evening he addressed her by the endearment. Both times it reduced her to a puddle of goo. Supposing that he flung that word carelessly at many women, Lauren reminded herself for the hundredth time that this outspoken bachelor wasn't the settling down kind of man that she was looking for. Just because her long-ago crush called her “darling” didn't mean she should go throwing away a well laid out plan for her future on a night of cheap thrills.

Except that Travis didn't make her feel cheap. He made her feel like a precious object worthy of being protected at all costs. That he had rushed in to rescue her from a couple of liquored-up strongmen, albeit unnecessarily, indicated he wasn't trying to take advantage of her.

Since she refused to respond to the question he'd posed to her, Travis answered it himself by dragging her hand up his thigh and guiding it to the juncture between
his legs. Lauren struggled for composure when he covered the swollen bulge there with her hand.

“Just in case you don't know, here's all the proof you need.”

As tempted as Lauren was to pull her hand away, she was equally tempted to leave it right where it was and see how long it would take to force him to either pull over or wreck. Torn between wanting to discard the good-girl image that had long held her hostage and her desire for a committed relationship with a loving man, she didn't know what to do. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself fondling Travis Banks as he drove her home—a mere stone's throw away from his sprawling ranch house. Leaving her hand right where he had put it, Lauren moved closer and decided to satisfy her curiosity once and for all.