Wild for the Girl (11 page)

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Authors: Starr Ambrose

BOOK: Wild for the Girl
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“Uh, sure.” She looked at Lexie. “You got this?”

“No problem.” The girl released the clutch on the idling tractor and drove off as T.J. walked upstairs with him to the manager’s office.

She stole a glance at him. Reese had always looked out of place at the barn in his immaculate work clothes, but today it made her aware of how she must look to him. He’d never seen her in anything but blue jeans, except when she had on nothing at all. She wouldn’t change who she was for any man, but couldn’t help wondering what Reese thought of the contrast between her and the women he saw in Boston. Women with manicures and sexy high heels. She looked down at her short, unpainted fingernails and the scuffed boots that wouldn’t pass for sexy with even the grubbiest ranch hand. There was nothing she could do about the boots, but she shoved her hands in her pockets as they walked into the office.

“This must be important if you came down here in the middle of the day.”

“It is.” He closed the door and locked it.

His serious expression worried her. “Is something wrong?” She always hated to deal with employee problems, but it was best to get them out of the way before Tom, the new manager, started work next week.

“I’m afraid there’s a problem.” Reese took her upper arms and backed her into the desk. “A very big problem.” He leaned into her so she could feel exactly how big his problem was. The tight line of his jaw relaxed, and a smile curled the corner of his mouth. “I was hoping you could help me with it.”

Oh,
that
kind of problem. The spark in his eyes caught like fire, igniting a similar interest in her. “Now that you’ve, uh, raised the issue . . .”

“It’s raised.” He rubbed against her.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I believe I share your problem.”

He leaned forward, brushing his cheek against hers as he nipped at her ear. Delicious shivers raced down her back. “I was hoping you’d see it that way.”

She did, more and more every second. She couldn’t believe how fast he could get her there. “We should go someplace to discuss it.”

“Right here is fine.”

Here? Working in a barn hadn’t given her the chance to nurture any office-desk fantasies, but her mind was nimble enough to latch on to this one and run with it. The mental image of Reese bending over her on the desktop sent moist heat pooling between her legs. Hooking one heel around his leg for leverage, she pushed against his erection. “Start discussing.”

He kissed her deeply, swiping his tongue into her mouth as he slid his hand beneath her T-shirt and bra, bunching them high on her chest. His mouth followed his hands and she found his frantic lust contagious. The need to have him inside her shot up like a rocket. Frustrated by the barrier of his pants, she unfastened his belt and his fly, shoving them down along with his jockeys. His erection sprang free, hard and ready. She closed her hand over it, sliding up and down the length.

It took five seconds before he abandoned her breasts and went to work on her jeans. Caught up in the urgency, T.J. helped him get her left boot off, followed by the left leg of her jeans. It was enough. The need building between her thighs was hot and heavy, and driving her crazy. They were both breathing fast as he boosted her onto the desk. She guided him to the right spot, urging him closer with her legs. Without hesitating, he drove into her, burying himself in her heat. She groaned and lay back, digging her fingers into his biceps as he leaned over her.

His first thrusts were slow but hard, and each one made her gasp. What he was doing was enough to send her over the edge, but her imagination sent her there faster. She couldn’t stop picturing how he must look with his pants around his ankles and his tie dangling from his perfectly pressed shirt as he drove into her fevered body. With a sharp cry, she exploded. She sucked in a startled breath, then stopped breathing altogether as the spasms ripped through her.

He gave a few more thrusts then stiffened under the same consuming rush of pleasure. She held on to his arms as they braced on the desk, riding out the orgasm. What seemed like a long time later, his breathing slowed and a smile slid across his face. “God, that was great. Thanks.”

She laughed, flat against the desk with one leg still locked around his waist. “My pleasure.”

He kissed her, then stepped back and helped her off the desk. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said as they pulled their clothing back in place. “It was terrible.”

She tugged her bra into place and shot a glance at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t be thinking about you at work, but I couldn’t stop. I was at a meeting, and the head of housekeeping was explaining that we need to buy new mattresses and bedding, and thinking about beds made me think about you. In bed.”

“That’s better.”

“Yeah, but that’s not all.” He finished buckling his belt and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Maintenance wants to update the showerheads, so naturally talking about showers made me think about you in the shower.”

She grinned. “Naturally.”

He kissed her forehead, then her nose. “It was getting hard to pay attention. Then we talked about new carpet for the third-floor hallways.”

“New carpet made you think of me?”

“I thought about having sex on the floor with you.”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “We’ve never done that.”

“No, but it’s a good idea, isn’t it? After that, everything we talked about reminded me somehow of making love with you, and I couldn’t concentrate. I called a lunch break.”

“I’m lunch?”

“Best one I ever had.”

“I’d have to agree with that.” She leaned into him for a long, tender kiss. As she drew back, a loud ringing came from his pocket. He pulled out a Nextel phone and answered, “Reese.”

“Mr. Barringer, this is Kathy at the front desk. A guest is checking in, and asked to see you.”

He kissed her before responding, “Ask Debra to handle it. I’m having lunch.” He grinned and dropped another kiss on her lips.

“Yes, sir, I offered to do that, but she didn’t want to talk to Debra.” She sounded hesitant, then added, “Just a second.” They kissed through a moment of silence while Kathy apparently listened to the guest. “Mr. Barringer?” Her voice came back, more confident this time. “She said to tell you it’s your girlfriend from Boston.”

 

11

Girlfriend?
Caroline?

His initial surprise turned to irritation. What kind of game was she playing, coming out here?

Then the horrible implication hit and his gaze flew to T.J. Her stunned look set panic clawing at his heart. “She’s not, T.J.,” he said earnestly. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

T.J. stood perfectly still within his arms, but he’d felt her hands relax their hold on his upper arms and fall away, as if her muscles had suddenly gone limp. “You know who she is?” she asked. Her voice was guarded.

He’d tell her whatever she wanted to know—he had nothing to hide. “Yes, at least I think I do. I used to go out with her but I broke it off before I came out here.”

T.J. licked her lips slowly, swallowing once. “She doesn’t seem to think so.”

He’d give anything to know what thoughts were going through her head, but her expression had gone carefully blank.

He frowned, shaking his head as if it would shake Caroline loose from his life. Or negate the fact that he’d ever known her. “She’s like that. She hears what she wants to hear and creates her own reality. She’s
not
my girlfriend.” He dipped his head so she had to look at him. “T.J., I don’t have a girlfriend in Boston.”

She just looked at him. He could almost see her mind whirling behind those deep blue eyes, weighing what he’d said against what she’d heard, and against the fact that she’d only known him for three weeks. He added, “Please believe me, T.J. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Her nod was imperceptible, and her gaze was cautious, withholding part of herself. A desperate, sinking feeling stabbed at his chest. Part of him wanted to grasp her arms and shake her until the numb look fled, but he knew he couldn’t force her to believe him. To trust him. She had to come to that decision on her own.

The phone crackled. “Mr. Barringer?”

Without taking his eyes off T.J., he lifted the phone. “I’m coming. Five minutes.” He slipped it in his pocket and put his hands on T.J.’s shoulders. “I don’t know why she’s here, but I’m going to make it very clear that I’m not interested and that I want her to leave. Okay?”

She seemed to rouse herself, offering an emotionless “Okay.”

Damn it, it wasn’t okay. The sooner he got rid of Caroline, the better. He kissed her forehead. “I’ll find you later, promise.”

She didn’t respond, which felt like another knife jab to his gut. But he couldn’t begin to fix this as long as Caroline was here. Turning on his heel, he opened the door and started for the main lodge at a fast pace.

*   *   *

T.J. collapsed against the desk and watched him go.
His girlfriend
.

Or former girlfriend, depending on who she believed.

Emotions swirled in her mind—fear, anger, resentment, dread—churning and foaming like the water at the base of Lost Angel Falls. A rational part of her watched the turmoil from a distance, knowing she couldn’t give in to any of it yet. Her feelings didn’t matter. Either he had a girlfriend, or he didn’t. Either he’d been a dishonest cheat, or he hadn’t. Before she jumped into the cataract and let it batter her to pieces, she had to know which it was.

She’d give him time. Let him confront his
friend
from Boston and see what happened. Maybe she was the clinging, stalker type—T.J. could almost see how Reese might inspire that. He’d be hard to let go of, especially if they’d once had an intimate relationship.

She wouldn’t think about that.

Or maybe the woman was an innocent victim, hoping to pull off a romantic surprise by impulsively flying across the country to see him. The surprise part had sure worked—she’d seen his face go from happy to scared in two seconds flat.

Whatever the truth was, she’d find out soon enough. By now she knew how to judge men—what they said didn’t matter. It was what they did that counted.

It was a good thing she’d chosen to keep their relationship physical. She didn’t have to get hurt if he’d never belonged to her in the first place. That had been a smart move on her part. Things were far less messy this way.

And she wouldn’t think about the details, like the fact that she could still smell him on her skin. Still taste him. Still feel him inside her. Because then the churning waters came roaring at her, threatening to suck her under, where she might very likely drown.

*   *   *

Reese scanned the couches by the huge fireplace and the secluded seating areas around the lobby. Caroline wasn’t there. Striding to the desk, he caught Kathy’s eye. “Where is she?”

“Miss Milbourne said you should meet her in her room. Suite ten fourteen.”

The manipulation was obvious—make him come to her. Typical Caroline. And of course he did it, because the sooner she left, the sooner T.J. would know he hadn’t been hiding anything from her. He was still breathing hard, partly from anger, when he knocked on her door.

“It’s open,” he heard from inside. He gritted his teeth and opened the door, pissed that she couldn’t even manage to meet him at the door. He stomped across the plush wool rug and rustic wood-plank floor, giving the empty sitting room and stone fireplace a puzzled look before he saw the open door to the balcony. He crossed to it and stepped outside, ready to tear into her. And stopped.

Chaz Milbourne turned from admiring the rushing creek in the gulch below, and favored Reese with his smooth bank-executive smile. “Reese! Good to see you again, boy.” He crossed the length of the balcony while Reese stood frozen in place. Shaking his hand, Chaz clapped him on the shoulder. “Beautiful place your family has here! I’m glad Caroline talked me into coming.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you, sir.” His eyes darted to a movement behind Chaz.

Caroline swept past her father to lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. For a few seconds he was enveloped by her light, expensive fragrance. “Hello, darling. You didn’t tell me what a quaint place this was. And so remote and wild.”

Quaint? “It’s a four-star luxury resort.”

Her elegant nose wrinkled in distaste. She looked cute when she did it, and she knew it. “I guess everyone has different ideas of luxury, don’t they?”

He refused to give her the smile she wanted. “Actually, there’s a standard definition for hotels.”

Chaz’s grip on his shoulder tightened as he steered Reese back inside. “Well, it’s obvious your dad knows what he’s doing here, Reese. I’d like to meet him sometime.”

Sudden suspicion raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Hell would freeze before he introduced Chaz Milbourne to his dad. If Caroline was trying to arrange some sort of meet-the-future-in-laws scenario, things were about to get very unpleasant.

“I’m afraid Dad’s still suffering a lot of pain from his injury and rarely gets out of bed, but I’ll relay the compliment.” He stopped walking abruptly, forcing Chaz to turn to face him. Time to let the old man know he couldn’t be jerked around. “Mr. Milbourne, I’m afraid your visit has taken me by surprise, and my schedule is rather full, but if there’s anything you need, just let me know.” He’d have someone else provide it.

Chaz’s eyebrow twitched up, but his voice remained friendly. “Don’t trouble yourself, boy. Caroline told me how seriously you take your responsibilities. Heard the same thing from Brad, you know. Very commendable.”

Reese knew his boss’s name hadn’t been dropped casually; it was a reminder that Caroline’s father had Brad Cunningham’s ear. The hairs on Reese’s neck bristled again. He would have to tread carefully here if he wanted to keep his job, and not be as blunt as he’d intended.

“Go back to work, Reese.” Caroline smiled tolerantly at his amusing dedication to a job. “You can join us for dinner. I’m sure even resort managers get to take time off to eat.”

He couldn’t come up with a good excuse, and ground his teeth for several seconds. “I’ll call you later,” he said, then left the suite before they could sink another hook into him. He had several hours to think up a plausible excuse for skipping supper. He’d find at least three—it was always best to cover all options with the Milbournes.

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