One Wild Cowboy and A Cowboy To Marry

Chapter Five

“Looking at the Cowtown Diner is not going to make it disappear.”

Guiltily, Emily moved away from the front window. Five more minutes, and the Daybreak Café would officially be closed. But with the exception of the tall, handsome cowboy standing next to her, it had been a ghost town for the past hour.

“There hasn’t been a lull in the activity over there all day.” Utility trucks had come and gone for gas, electricity, water and sewer. Safety inspections had been done, a neon light on the front of the diner turned on and tested.

Emily wanted to protest the burnished bronze exterior of the diner didn’t fit in with the historic buildings on their side of the green, any more than proprietor Xavier Shillingsworth fit in Laramie. But the truth was the snazzy exterior and old-style-saloon design of the building added the kind of pizzazz that would have passing tourists stopping in droves.

Emily scowled. “There’s a lot to do if they’re going to open in two days.”

Dylan laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “You keep saying if.”

Emily blew out a gusty breath. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

Dylan said matter-of-factly, “People are going to go there, to try it out and see what they think.”

Their glances meshed. “You think I don’t know that?” She turned away from the window and headed back to the booth Dylan had just vacated. She picked up his empty coffee cup and dessert plate and carried both to the kitchen.

Dylan ambled after her. “Once the newness wears off, they’ll be back.”

The point was, Emily didn’t want to lose any customers in the first place. And really, how selfish was that?

Dylan was about to say something else, when the front door opened and slammed shut. Andrew walked in, book bag slung over his shoulder. “Mom!” he yelled.

Simone came out of the back.

Andrew thrust a paper at her. “I just got a job at the Cowtown Diner!”

Emily blinked in surprise.

“You already have a part-time job here,” Simone reminded him.

Andrew shot her a look. “No offense, Miss Emily, but the diner is a much more awesome place to work. All my friends at school are getting jobs there. Everyone who works there has to be either in high school or college.”

Or roughly Xavier’s age, Emily thought, not sure whether that was a good or bad idea.

“So...can I?” Andrew asked his mom.

Emily looked at Simone. She did not want to put her friend on the spot. “Look, it’s okay...”

“No,” Simone said firmly, “it’s not. Andrew, you have a part-time job here and you are going to honor that commitment.”

A mother-son stare-down commenced.

Simone won.

“Fine!” Andrew slammed out the back.

An awkward silence followed.

“Sorry,” Simone finally said, clearly upset.

“If you need to go ahead and leave for the day,” Emily murmured sympathetically.

“Thanks...I think I will,” Simone sighed, rushing out the back door.

Then things went from bad to worse.

The front door opened and Xavier Shillingsworth sauntered in.

* * *

HOW MUCH MORE was Emily supposed to have to take? Dylan wondered.

“Hi, Emily. Dylan—” Xavier paused dramatically. Furrowing his brow, he asked snidely, “—don’t you ever work?”

Dylan refused to pick up the gauntlet. “You’re not worth the effort, kid.”

Disappointed, but no less smug, Xavier turned back to Emily. “Andrew’s under sixteen so he’s going to need a work permit. His mother will have to fill the papers out and get them approved by the Texas Workforce Commission, before he can start.”

Emily continued wiping down tables. “They’ve already left for the day.”

Shillingsworth followed her, further invading her space. “Maybe you could give the papers to them for me, then?”

Whatever pity he’d felt for the kid the previous evening vanished. Dylan stepped forward. “You know Andrew was working here?”

Shillingsworth lifted an autocratic brow. “Yes. He told me that.”

Dylan studied him. “And you’ve got no compunction about trying to hire him away from Emily?”

“It’s business. I’ll hire anyone I want who wants a job. Even, say—” Xavier gestured lazily “—Emily...”

Oh, Dylan thought. Them’s fightin’ words.

Emily, on the other hand, stepped forward, fire in her gaze. “Well, kind as that is of you, Xavier,” she drawled, “I really can’t see that happening. Because I actually like to cook the food—from scratch—not just take off the plastic wrap and heat it in the microwave.”

Dylan threw back his head and laughed. Having had more than enough, he slapped Xavier on the shoulder and steered him in the direction of the exit. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “Looks like you’re outmatched and outclassed, kid. So you best be on your way.”

Xavier stepped sideways instead. “First of all, you’d be surprised how good our stuff is.” He squared off, indignant. “And second, Emily has not asked me to leave. So...”

Emily set her chin. “I’m asking you to leave.”

Xavier looked at Emily, ready to continue to push the issue. Emily remained unmoved and Dylan lifted a warning brow.

The restaurateur suddenly changed his mind and headed slowly for the exit. “My offer of a date is good anytime, Emily. ’Cause I still want a cougar for my trophy case.” The kid turned around and winked. “If you know what I mean.”

Emily’s glance narrowed. “Goodbye, Xavier.”

Reluctantly, he sauntered out, slamming the door after him.

Emily turned to Dylan. Instead of complimenting him on the great restraint he had shown, in not booting the kid out by the seat of the pants practically the second the interloper walked in, Emily glared at him. “You do not have to run interference between the two of us. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

Dylan was willing to be amenable, but only to a point. “Suppose I want to defend you. Me being your pretend boyfriend and all. What then?”

He had no idea what Emily was going to say. He didn’t want to know, either. All he wanted, at that moment, was to stake his claim in a way neither of them would ever forget.

He wound an arm around her waist and used the leverage to pull her intimately against him. He heard her soft gasp of surprise—and delight—as he threaded his hand through her hair and tilted her face up to his.

The first contact was soft and tender. Their lips fused together. And yet there was no surrender.

It didn’t matter.

Dylan had met with resistance before.

He knew gentleness and patience worked wonders.

As did a full-on kiss filled with passion and need.

He utilized both, grazing the shell of her ear, touching his mouth to her throat, the underside of her chin, her cheek, the tip of her nose, before moving once again to her lips.

And this time, when he fit his lips to hers in a soft, sure kiss, she was ready for him. Drawing him closer, she tangled her tongue with his....

The lines were blurring, Emily thought, as Dylan flattened a hand down her spine, pressing her body into his. Confusing her as to what was real and what wasn’t...what was possible and what was not...

It didn’t matter how hot and hard he was...or that she was the reason for it. It didn’t matter that his embrace was magic, or that this fleeting embrace had her experiencing more pleasure than she ever had in her life.

What mattered was that they weren’t in love.

Couldn’t be.

Wouldn’t be.

So even if it felt like something more, Emily told herself it wasn’t.

Shaken, she broke off the kiss and pushed away. “This can’t continue,” she managed, drawing a jerky breath.

Not without some sort of promise that their relationship would one day be as real and true as the physical passion they felt.

Sadly, no matter how much he lusted after her, she couldn’t see Dylan agreeing to that.

* * *

“I WASN’T SURE you’d show up,” Dylan remarked when Emily got out of the car several hours later.

She had known he had figured no affair meant no working together, but she hadn’t bothered to correct his misimpression at the time. “Then you must know even less about me than you think,” Emily replied.

Dylan laughed and favored her with his sexy, oh-so-male presence and what-I’d-really-like-to-do-to-you golden-brown eyes.

She drew a conciliatory breath. “When I want to do something, I do it.”

Dylan prodded devilishly. “And right now...?”

Emily settled her hat on her head. “I want to see you start Ginger’s training.”

Seeming pleased at that, Dylan dipped his head in a gallant bow and showed her the way. “Then let’s get to it.”

The horses Dylan was working with were housed in a maze of corrals and pastures, all feeding into a central alley. Salt and Pepper were in an adjacent paddock, grazing sedately. Ginger was by herself in another.

Dylan lifted the latch. Ginger took the opening he gave her and bolted down the aisleway. She took the first available exit and landed in a high-walled round pen. Dylan stepped in after her, closing the gate. Emily climbed onto the riser, above the pen, to watch.

“Easy, girl,” Dylan said, as the beautiful mustang pranced back and forth, eyeing Dylan nervously all the while. He unfurled a long cloth line and gently threw it in the mare’s direction. Ginger pranced away from it. Dylan pursued, calmly extending the line, forcing Ginger to go away from him again and again.

First in clockwise motion.

Then counterclockwise.

Across the center of the round pen.

Around the sides.

Again and again, they went.

“How long are you going to do this?” Emily asked.

Dylan cast her a look over his shoulder. He raised his hand—Ginger went faster. He dropped his hand to the side, she slowed. “Average time is about six minutes.”

And then what? Emily wondered.

Six minutes later, she found out.

Dylan stopped throwing out the cloth line and simply stood quietly in the center of the pen. Slowly, he turned, so his shoulder was toward the mustang. Head bowed, he waited.

Ginger stood, trembling with nervousness.

Emily wondered what was up now.

Still, Dylan stood, his body quiet, posture relaxed, head down.

Ginger edged closer. Closer still, until her elegant thousand-pound body was right beside him.

Ever so slowly, Dylan turned toward her. Keeping his head down, his gaze on the ground, he murmured, “That’s it, sweetheart. See? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your friend.”

With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed Ginger’s face, then moved around to stroke the sides of her neck, her back, the vulnerable skin of her stomach, and back around to her hips and flanks. Emily watched, mesmerized, as the once-wild horse leaned into his touch, completely accepting, trusting absolutely.

“That was amazing,” Emily said an hour later, when Dylan led the mustang back to the paddock where Salt and Pepper were pastured. So this was what horse whisperers did. “Do you use the same method every time?”

Dylan nodded, matter-of-fact in his expertise. “The horse has to go away from me before he or she can come back to me.”

“So you drove her away repeatedly,” Emily marveled. “And yet you knew she would come back to you in the end.”

Dylan inclined his head. “It’s basic horse—or herd—psychology.”

To want what you can’t have? To go where you’re not supposed to be? “Or psychology in general.” Emily paused. Suddenly suspicious as her next thought hit, she narrowed her eyes at Dylan. “So I have to ask—is that what you’ve been doing to me?”

* * *

DYLAN STARED AT Emily, hoping the conversation wasn’t headed where it appeared to be. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Emily gave Dylan a deliberately provoking look and smiled with all the steely resolve of a Texas belle, born and bred. “You pique my interest,” she observed sweetly. Then she looked at him in a way that made him want to haul her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Which maybe, given the heat between them, was not such a bad idea....

Emily stepped closer yet and continued with a cantankerous toss of her head. “You only let me—or any other woman for that matter—come so close.”

That was true of other women, he thought. Not Emily.

Her soft lips pursed in dismay. “Then you drive her away, again and again.”

Once more, she seemed to be watching and weighing everything he said and did.

“Waiting patiently,” Emily continued. “Knowing that she’ll come back and join up with you in the end, just the way Ginger did.”

If Dylan didn’t know better, he would think it was Emily’s heart that was hurting, instead of her pride. When the truth was, this was about something much more fundamental. He folded his arms and leaned against the fence. “You’re making it too complicated,” he said mildly.

She brushed past him, a censuring light in her eyes, a downward slant to her lips. “I don’t think so.”

He caught her by the arm and swung them both around so fast she stumbled into his chest. His own body humming with the crazy feeling of need running riot inside him, he steadied her, then planted his hands on either side of her and leaned over her, so she was pinned between his body and the smooth rails of the wooden fence.

He let his eyes slide over the inviting curves of her breasts, flat abdomen and sexy, jean-clad legs, before returning to her tousled hair, soft lips and wide blue eyes. “There’s nothing complicated about me wanting you, or what I need,” he told her frankly, not afraid to be bold if boldness was what was called for.

She released a breath. “Which is what exactly?”

Ignoring the flash of indignation on her pretty face, Dylan leaned even closer. He’d lost the battle to be a gentleman, but if nothing else, he would be honest. “To take you in my arms,” he said very, very softly, “and make love to you.”

Before Emily could do more than gasp, Dylan caught her beneath the knees, swung her up into his arms and strode toward the house. Resenting having his integrity and his actions questioned now—especially by Emily, who had spent enough time with him to know better—Dylan continued acting with the total freedom he’d enjoyed his entire adult life.

“What’s complicated,” he told her, as he mounted the steps and carried her on into the house, “is the notion of us being together.”

His point made, that if they so chose, the two of them could do anything they damn well wanted, he set her down inside the foyer.

Not sure when he had ever been so thoroughly exasperated by a woman, he gazed at her. “’Cause there is no way you’re ever going to want what I want—a no-strings affair that lasts as long as we want it to and still allows us to walk away, completely unscathed.”

And that was one heck of a shame....

Sparks gleamed in Emily’s blue eyes. “Want to bet?” she challenged.

* * *

DYLAN THOUGHT SHE was a chicken. That she’d never be wild and reckless and yes—courageous—enough to act on the needs of her body. He was wrong. And she was going to show him.

Giving him no chance to resist, Emily bounded up and leaped into his arms. She landed with her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, her legs locked around his waist.

Caught completely by surprise, Dylan stumbled backward, his weight falling against the wall. And then all was lost in the first thrilling rush of freedom and the impact of her lips planted squarely on his. Emily knew he didn’t mean to kiss her back. Any more than she could help kissing him. And somehow that made the culmination of their mutual desire all the hotter.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Yet it was.

She wasn’t supposed to be this reckless.

Yet she was.

“Emily. Emily...” Dylan groaned.

The rush of emotion overwhelmed her. In the feminine heart of her, the tingling started. “Don’t stop.” She caught his face in her hands, looked deep into his eyes and whispered, “Don’t stop.” She celebrated the victory of being together, of leaving constraints behind. Of daring intimacy...and sex...and the possibility that every fantasy she had about him just might come true...

And he seemed enthralled, too. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, leaving not a millimeter untouched. Sensation swept through her like a tsunami, followed by a tidal wave of need. It had been so long since she had been held and kissed with anywhere near this conviction. Never mind the pure physical need.

When his hand slipped beneath her blouse and cupped her breast through the lace of her bra, Emily arched her back and trembled with pleasure. She was drowning in the incredible sensations sweeping through her. Wanting more, Emily threaded her hands through his hair and held his head. “Let’s go to bed, Dylan,” she whispered, her breath coming raggedly. “Right now.”

Dylan paused, breathing hard. Clearly he wanted to take their lovemaking to the limit and beyond. He searched her face. “You’re sure?”

“Very.”

His glance dropped to the nipples protruding visibly through her blouse. He flashed her a debilitating sexy grin. His grip tightening possessively, he regarded her with a mock gallantry that kindled her senses. “Well, then, whatever the lady wants...”

He shifted her closer to his chest and carried her, still straddling his waist, through the hall and up the steps. He strode down the hall and lowered her, with surprising gentleness, onto the rumpled covers of his bed. Pausing only long enough to kick off his boots and take off hers, he stretched out next to her.

She flushed hotly as he unbuttoned her blouse, dropping kisses along the curve of her cheek, the slope of her neck, the décolletage of her bra. He looked at her lovingly as he traced the bow shape of her lips with his fingertip.

Then that, too, dropped to her breast.

He found the curve, the tip, the valley in between. Emily shuddered in response. She had never felt more beautiful than she did at that moment, seeing herself reflected in his gaze. “I knew we’d end up together,” he whispered, kissing her again, desire exploding through them in liquid, melting heat.

Then he was on top of her, his weight as welcoming as a blanket on a cold winter’s night, his mouth on hers in a kiss that was shattering in its seductive sensuality. He kissed her as if he were in love with her, and would be for all time. He kissed her as if he had always known they had something special and were meant to be together like this.

Emily had never before felt such deep-seated longing surge through her, driving her toward wild abandon. And these intoxicating emotions proved to be the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Feeling sexier, more adventurous than she had in her entire life, she gave herself over to the experience. Moaning softly as Dylan unclasped her bra and explored the tenderness of her skin. She arched in ecstasy with each caress of hand and lips and tongue. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and discovered the hard masculine contours of his chest. Lower still, she unzipped his jeans, releasing the burgeoning proof of his desire.

He was hot and hard all over. All warm satin skin and coarse wheat-blond hair. Determined to prove to him that she was as exciting and fiercely independent as he was, she held his eyes with the promise of the hot, languid lovemaking to come....

* * *

DYLAN HADN’T MEANT for any of this to happen.

He had expected to spend time with her. Maybe put on a little show of public ardor once or twice, do whatever it was she felt “couples” did together, until the facade ended.

But that was before he had watched her dare damn near everything and luxuriated in the soft, silky feel of her. Or looked into the turbulent sea-blue of her eyes and kissed her hard and soft and every way in between.

“You’ve got to promise me something,” he whispered, as he took her to the very edge of the bed. The need to make her his was stronger than ever. “No heartache. No regrets...”

“Just pleasure,” she whispered back, “in the here and now.”

And those vows were all it took, Dylan noted, to get her on the same track as he. She moaned against him, kissing him ardently. Even as she surrendered, she took. Even as he gave, he found.

Determined to set the pace, he parted her legs and slipped between her thighs. Holding her close, he pushed inside her, timing his movements as she wrapped her limbs around him and lifted her body to his.