Read The Last Cowboy Standing Online

Authors: Barbara Dunlop

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women

The Last Cowboy Standing (8 page)

BOOK: The Last Cowboy Standing
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Their departure spurred Danielle to action. “I’ll say good-night as well,” she told Caleb, glancing briefly to Travis as she backed away.

“We can talk tomorrow,” said Caleb.

The words brought Danielle to a halt. “Were you looking for me today?”

She and Caleb had met briefly when he arrived Thursday night. But she’d understood he was going to be busy all day. At least that’s what Katrina told her. Now she realized she’d never actually checked with Caleb.

Caleb shook his head. “I’d have called you. Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Okay,” Danielle nodded, relieved. “I’ll be there.”

“I’m done, too,” said Travis, breaking away from his brother, and coming up next to Danielle.

Her stomach gave an involuntary quiver of excitement.

Caleb glanced back at the closed door. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I think the party’s winding down.” He started forward.

Reed and Katrina were far ahead in the lobby, disappearing around the central fountain.

“Thanks for entertaining Katrina,” said Caleb. “I know Reed appreciates it.”

Danielle gave a short laugh. “Katrina entertained me. I feel like I’ve been playing hooky all day long.”

“You put in way too many hours,” said Caleb.

“A lot of lawyers put in more hours than I do.”

She couldn’t help thinking about Randal and the others at Nester and Hedley. How hard did they work? What was the pace like in D.C.?

“I’m in the north tower,” said Caleb, pointing to an elevator sign, and turning toward the hallway. “’Night.”

“Good night,” Danielle called after him.

She and Travis walked a few feet in silence.

“I’m west,” she told him.

“I know.”

She remembered he’d walked her to the elevators that first night.

“How was the bachelor day?” she asked.

“No insurance claims from the dune buggy races,” he said, reminding her of the policy she’d reviewed for him yesterday.

“That’s good news. Who won?”

“Alex.”

Danielle gave him a suspicious look. “The groom? Was the fix in?”

“Maybe a little. Reed and I rocked at paintball. We took it for the yellow team.”

Danielle couldn’t help but smile at the pride in his voice. “First the bull riding, and now paintball. There’s just no stopping you, is there?”

“No, ma’am, there is not.” There was a wry note in his voice, as he reached out to press the call button for the west tower elevators.

Two older women joined them waiting.

“You don’t need to wait for the car,” said Danielle.

“My suite’s up there, too.”

Six

T
he middle elevator car pinged, the red up arrow lighting. Three men strode with them into the elevator, along with the two older ladies. Danielle pressed eighteen and moved into a corner, while Travis pressed thirty-four, the top floor, and shifted to stand beside her.

One of the three men took a lingering, visual tour of her white slacks and blue tank top. She ignored him, but Travis stepped in front of her, lifting his chin and folding his arms across his chest.

She couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. For some reason it sent a shot of warmth through her chest. It was gentlemanly, she told herself, kind of sweetly old-fashioned.

The men filed out on the fourteenth floor, and she stepped out from behind Travis, smiling and shaking her head. “You didn’t have to—” As she moved farther, her shoulder bag snagged on the elevator rail, jerking out of her hand, clattering upside down to the floor.

Danielle swore. Travis turned at the sound. And the two older ladies stared at the items bouncing on the floor.

Travis crouched to help, while Danielle scooped up her wallet and cell phone, snagged a makeup bag, her keys and a hand mirror. She stuffed them into the open bag, checking the floor to make sure nothing more embarrassing had slipped out.

Then she realized Travis had gone still. She twisted her neck to look at him, freezing in horror when she saw the envelope in his hands. Her boudoir photos had fallen halfway out, and he was staring, eyes wide, at the magenta teddy photo on the top of the stack.

He rose, silently sliding the photos back into the envelope and refolding the flap.

Danielle couldn’t speak. She couldn’t look at him. The embarrassing shot scuttled through her brain. It was her worst nightmare come true.

He handed her the envelope as the elevator pinged on the eighteenth floor. But, before she could exit, his hand wrapped around her upper arm.

The women glanced at her in puzzlement.

His grip wasn’t tight. She could have easily pulled away, darted for the door, escaped and left town, finding a way to never, ever face him again.

But she didn’t. She complied with his unspoken request.

The door slid shut, and the elevator rose.

While they moved, Danielle turned hot, then cold, then hot again.

The doors opened on twenty-three, and the two women got off. Travis kept hold of her arm. He stayed silent until the doors had shut completely.

When he spoke, his voice was guttural. “Tell me they’re not for Randal.”

The question surprised her so much, she forgot to answer.

“Tell me,” he repeated with an edge of desperation.

“They’re not for Randal,” she quickly told him. “They’re not for anybody. They were a lark, a silly, stupid idea that I regret already.”

He nodded sharply. His hand slipped from her arm. “Okay.”

That was it? One word? What did he mean?

The elevator pinged on thirty-four, the doors opening yet again.

Travis crossed the car. He pressed eighteen again then moved through the doorway.

Danielle’s knees went weak with relief, or maybe it was disappointment. She couldn’t quite pinpoint which.

But then he stopped. The doors started to shut, but he stuck his arm out to block them. He turned fully around, gaze intense, seeming to drink in the sight of her and swallow it whole.

“I’ve tried so damn hard to ignore this,” he rasped.

Heat and desire washed over her again. She told herself to shut up. She told herself to stay still and let it pass.

“So have I,” she confessed in a small voice.

He didn’t move. He waited.

Her stomach contracted. Her blood pounded in her ears. She struggled to suck in oxygen.

Stay put,
her logical brain ordered.

There was absolutely no mistaking the hunger in his expression. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched tight. His entire body seemed poised to pounce.

If she moved, she was done for. They were done for. If she took one step toward him, she’d be in his bed in minutes. And nothing would ever be the same between them again.

She moved one foot, and then the other. In seconds, she was out the door and into the hallway.

He turned beside her, released the door, silently took her hand in his and made his way along the short hallway.

Neither spoke as he swiped his key card in the double doors at the end. One door swung open, soft music greeting them, warm air, thick carpets, soft lighting, scented oil wafting through a richly appointed living room.

They walked inside, and the door clicked shut behind them. Astonishingly, her trepidation disappeared. Her uncertainty and fear vanished. She knew she was right where she wanted to be. She was alone with Travis at last, and all the reasons to keep her distance seemed to evaporate into thin air.

He turned to face her, his own expression relaxing. He smiled gently, blue eyes softening in the dim light. He smoothed back her hair. And with the opposite hand, he twined their fingers together.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispered.

“How did this happen?” she breathed, wondering if this might be a dream.

“My guess is good genes and healthy living.”

She couldn’t help but smile.

His own smile faded, his gaze zeroing in on her lips, his hand moving to cradle her cheek.

“I’m about to kiss you,” he warned.

“I’m about to kiss you back.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He leaned in, voice deep and low. “This is going to be fun.”

Her laughter was quickly lost in the touch of his lips. They were smooth, firm and hot. He smelled of male musk, tasted of smoky scotch whiskey. He deepened the kiss, and she welcomed him in.

He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, pulling her against him. Her bag dropped to the floor as she reveled in the heat of his steel hard thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her head fall back, drinking in the magic of his kiss and letting waves of passion wash through her.

His thumb slipped beneath the hem of her tank top, stroking the bare skin of her back, tracing the small bumps of her spine, first up and then down.

Feeling her way, she flicked open the buttons of his shirt, sliding her palms along his washboard stomach and the definition of his chest, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. She found a small scar near his left nipple, tracing the ridge with her fingertip. She eased back from his kiss, dipping her head to kiss the scar. Then she kissed a path to his shoulder, pushing off his shirt.

He shrugged out of it, finding her lips, kissing her deeply as his hands skimmed her bare skin and cupped her breasts through her lacy bra. He groaned again and scooped her into his strong arms. She clung to him, still kissing as he carried her across the suite, through a set of double doors, and into a massive bedroom with a four-poster bed.

The room was lit softly by a bedside lamp. The French doors were propped open, sheer curtains billowing in the warm breeze.

He set her on her feet. Then he peeled off her tank top, pulling it over her raised arms, tossing it on a nearby chair while his gaze feasted on her snowy white bra.

“You get more beautiful by the second.”

She splayed her hands across his tanned chest. “So do you.” She found the scar again. “Bull?” she asked.

“Don’t remember.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve got a few of them. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. They make you seem rugged and sexy.”

He gave a playful grin. “I am rugged and sexy.”

“That you are,” she agreed. Then, feeling bold, she reached back and released her bra, letting it fall away. “I’m not exactly rugged.”

He drank in the sight of her bare breasts. “I’d hate it if you were. You’re soft and sexy, exactly how you’re supposed to be.”

She watched as his tanned, callused hand closed over her breast. His palm was warm, but her nipple beaded hard in reaction.

He curled an arm around her waist again, drawing her close.

“Soft,” he whispered as his lips came down on hers.

She inhaled his scent, drank in his taste, tangled her tongue with his. He felt so incredibly good pressed against her. She gave her passion free rein, letting the rest of the world fall away.

He seemed content to kiss her forever. But the heat was building inside her, and she was impatient to feel all of him. She slipped her hand between their bodies, popping the button on the top of his jeans.

He copied her move, releasing her button.

She slid down his zipper.

He sucked in a breath, and did the same.

She pulled back and smiled. Stepping away, she kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans.

He did the same, standing in black boxers, staring at her skimpy, white lace panties.

She hooked her thumbs into the thin strip of fabric.

He snagged his waistband.

“Shall we count to three?” she joked.

“Three.” He stripped down his boxers, kicking them across the floor.

She waited, just to see what he’d do.

He crossed the small space and drew her into his arms. His hands skimmed down her back, cupping her buttocks while he kissed her neck. His magical lips made their way to her shoulder, across her chest. Then with excruciating slowness drew one nipple into his hot mouth.

She groaned with pleasure, scraping her fingernails across his thick hair. He moved to the other, and she gripped his shoulders to steady herself. A craving pushed its way through her bloodstream, peaking her nipples and pooling in her lower belly.

She gasped his name.

He instantly scooped her up, lifting her to lay her on the soft, satin bed. He reached for her panties, drawing them slowly down the length of her legs. Then he rose above her, all sinew, strength and power. It was by far the sexiest moment of her life.

Without hesitating, she eased her legs apart.

“More beautiful by the second,” he rasped, bending lower to kiss the inside of her knee.

As he worked his way up, she couldn’t hold still, twitching then squirming, then gasping and arching off the bed as he reached home. He kept going, kissing her belly, making her quiver as he reached her breasts, then her neck, then finally her mouth.

She slid her hands down his back, over his buttocks, around to grasp him, reveling in the hot texture and her own anticipation.

“You in a hurry?” he rasped in her ear.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He reached for the bed stand, producing a condom.

In moments, he was above her again, kissing her deeply, kneading her bottom, adjusting her thighs, pressing against her, slipping inside her, deeper and deeper. He felt so incredibly good.

She groaned in satisfaction, tipping her hips, wrapping her legs around him. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth. Her hands gripped his back, tighter and tighter. Desire coiled in her belly, while his long strokes and satisfying rhythm spiraled her higher and higher.

The room grew hotter, and moisture beaded across her body. Traffic sounds blended to a roar in her ears, while the breeze teased her damp, sensitized skin. Then time and space disappeared, nothing existing except the pulse of Travis and the primal urge of her own body to reach for the pinnacle of release.

Color glowed to life inside her brain, shooting sparks of light along her synapses while pleasure built along her limbs, curling her toes and drawing moans of intense desire from her deep in her chest. Travis echoed the sounds, increasing his pace, his breathing speeding up, his heart thumping strong against her chest.

Then, her body roared and her world convulsed, and she cried out his name while waves of pure pleasure raced through her body. His kiss deepened, and he grasped her tightly to him while his own body shuddered with completion.

She spent long minutes drawing in deep breaths, her chest moving up and down. He shifted his weight, easing partway off, one leg staying over hers, his hand splayed across her stomach. The ornate, white pine posts of the bed came into focus, then the paintings on the wall, mounted above a cream-colored sofa and two peach armchairs.

She pushed her damp hair back from her forehead and stretched the kinks out of her legs. “Probably a good thing we didn’t know that.”

He kissed the tip of her shoulder. “Didn’t know what?”

She turned to look at him, not feeling remotely coy or shy. “How it would be between us. We might not have waited two years.”

Comprehension dawned in his eyes, and his mouth crooked in a wry smile. “I might not have waited two minutes.”

* * *

The first thing to enter Travis’s sleep-filled brain was the scent of wild flowers. His thoughts wafted to Lyndon Valley, the springtime colors, the rolling hills. But then he felt the satin skin of Danielle’s stomach, warm and soft under his rough fingertips. He heard her breathing and realized the scent was her shampoo.

This was better than home, so much better than home.

He blinked his eyes open to gaze at her delicate profile. Her hair was mussed from sleep, her eye makeup slightly smeared, her cheeks flushed, and her dark lips parted.

She’d stayed.

He smiled at the knowledge that she’d slept in his arms.

“You’re awake early,” came her husky voice.

“So are you,” he whispered in return.

“You woke me up.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You moved your leg.”

“I didn’t mean to do that, either.” He’d have stayed perfectly still for hours if it kept her in his arms.

She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, opening her dark fringed, coffee-brown eyes to look at him. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe seven.”

She shifted up on one elbow, the drape of the white sheet covering her rounded breasts. “Do you have to get up?”

“Not yet. You?”

She shook her head. “I need to meet with Caleb, but my flight’s not until noon.” Then her expression faltered, and she sat up, bringing the sheet with her. “Unless you want me to have to get up. I can’t tell, was that a question or a hint?”

He reached out to slide an arm around her waist, tugging her back toward him. “It was definitely a question. And I was absolutely hoping you’d say no.”

BOOK: The Last Cowboy Standing
6.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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