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His hands caught her hips as she pulled him deeper still. Their eyes locked and a mixture of tenderness and primal possessiveness filled his soul. He knew it was just friendship and sex, but it felt like more. Although he knew it would end, it felt like it never would. And then there was no more prolonging the inevitable. Trembling, they succumbed to the swirling, enviable pleasure.
* * *
EMILY LAY CUDDLED in Dylan’s strong arms for long moments afterward, still hardly able to believe what had happened. It was just sex. They’d both been very clear about that. Yet...the magic of his tender, amazing lovemaking left her feeling that Dylan intuitively understood what she wanted and needed in a way no one else ever had, or would. And that left her feeling oddly weak and susceptible.
Odds were, vulnerable was not what Dylan wanted to see from her. Hence, this was her chance to prove how detached she could be, too. Adopting a studied, casual look, she extricated herself from his warm embrace, rose and began to dress.
As always, Dylan saw way more than she would have preferred. He lay where he was, arms folded behind his head, seeming to intuit her emotions were in turmoil, even though his expression was inscrutable, too. “What are you thinking?” he asked finally, his voice as casual as her demeanor.
Searching for a decidedly flip remark, Emily shrugged. “The obvious.” She flashed a flirtatious grin. “That you’re not just a horse whisperer. You’re a woman whisperer, too.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, her backhanded compliment only partially satisfying him. He regarded her with rueful contemplation, something hot and sensual shimmering in his eyes. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”
His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.
Emily glanced down and realized she had buttoned her shirt incorrectly. Dismayed by the evidence of her disquiet, she opened the fastenings and started all over again. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her fingers trembled as much as her voice.
He threw back the covers and walked toward her in all his naked glory. “You’re not the kind of woman who can get involved with someone or have an affair without asking them to commit to something for a lot longer term—and to change into what you need them to be.”
Emily sent him the kind of offhand glance meant to presage a quick and uncomplicated exit. She moved away. “That’s not true.”
“I think it is.” He sauntered closer, studying the turbulent emotion in her eyes. “I think you’re waiting for some guy to come in and let you change him as much as you want, without demanding anything of you in return. And the two of you will marry and live happily ever after.”
Emily kept her eyes above the waist. “I don’t think that way!”
He shook his head. “The look on your face just now says otherwise.”
More attracted to him than ever, Emily wiggled into her jeans. “I admit, I’ve never had an out-and-out fling before.”
Dylan pulled on his clothes and boots. He gave her the same look her parents gave her when they thought she needed to delve deeper into the workings of her heart. “How many boyfriends have you had?”
Emily picked up his brush and ran it through her hair. “Casual?” Meaning the kind she left with a kiss, at the door? “Tons.”
He frowned. “Serious.”
Emily sighed. “Two. One in college. One about four years ago.”
Dylan took her hand and led her toward the hall. “What happened?”
Emily followed him down the stairs. “The first one felt it was his duty as my significant other to try and control me.”
Dylan let go of her hand as they wandered into the kitchen. “I bet that went over well.”
“You can only imagine,” Emily admitted drily.
He looked in the fridge. “And the second?”
Emily lounged against the counter, observing the enticing play of muscles in his chest and shoulders beneath his shirt. Within her, desire started all over again.
Forcing herself to keep her mind on the conversation, she replied, “He couldn’t get along with my family.”
He set a smoked chicken from Sonny’s Barbeque on the counter. Added flour tortillas and a hunk of Colby-Jack. “Why not?”
Curious—because she had assumed Dylan couldn’t cook—Emily moved back to give him room to work. “Ridge liked his family better. He thought they were superior to mine, and he wanted us to spend all our time—every holiday and a lot of other weekends, as well—with them.”
Dylan added olive oil to a cast-iron skillet. “Doesn’t sound fair.”
“It wasn’t.” Emily paced while Dylan chopped up an onion and green pepper and added those to the skillet, too. “I tried to get Ridge to be reasonable about the situation—to at least divide the extended-family time fifty-fifty, but he wouldn’t budge, so that ended that.” The kitchen quickly filled with a delicious aroma.
“And since then...”
“There’s been no one serious.” Emily hadn’t wanted to get hurt. “I haven’t wanted to put myself out there, emotionally, unless I knew everything else was falling into line, that we were going to be compatible in all the ways that mattered, even if that meant one...or both of us...had to change.”
Dylan wrapped the tortillas in foil and set them in the oven to heat. “And you were willing to do that,” he murmured, as he grated the cheese.
Emily nodded. “Sometimes the guys were, too. But ultimately, that didn’t work, either, because if you have to make yourself over to be with someone...you sort of start questioning if it’s worth it.”
Dylan brought out some premade guacamole, pico de gallo and sour cream. “I can understand that.”
“Anyway, I got frustrated with working so hard on a personal life and failing, so two years ago I decided to start pouring all my energy into my career.”
Dylan added smoked chicken to the sizzling vegetables. “And that’s when you started the café.”
Emily nodded, edging closer to the stove. She watched as he gave the ingredients a stir. “And then, it became my baby,” she said softly. “So to speak.”
Dylan brought out two bottles of cold dark beer. Emily set the table. Minutes later, they sat down to eat their smoked-chicken tacos. Emily was pleased to find the pulled-together feast was every bit as delicious as it looked.
Deciding to satisfy her curiosity as well as her appetite, Emily murmured eventually, “Okay, enough of a confessional from me. What is your romantic history like? Have you ever been head over heels in love?”
Dylan paused. “I thought I was at the time. Looking back, I’m not so sure.”
“What happened?”
“I was working on a horse ranch in Wyoming, and I fell hard for the boss’s daughter. Mariah was in college at the time. I only had my GED. She knew her parents wouldn’t approve, so we had to see each other on the sly.”
This did not sound good.
“She kept telling me that it would be all right once she finished her undergrad and got into vet school—that her parents would know she wasn’t going to give up on her dream to be with me.”
“But it wasn’t,” Emily guessed.
Dylan shook his head. “In her parents’ view, a line had been crossed. There is the hired help—”
“You.”
“And the rest of the cowboys and house staff. And then there is the landowner. In their view I was never going to be part of the latter.”
That had to have hurt. “Did they fire you?”
Dylan nodded. “Oh, yeah, and they refused to give me a recommendation, which made it hard as hell to get another job—at least a good one—for a while.”
“I see,” she murmured. “Employers want to know why you left.”
His face hardened. “I wasn’t going to lie.”
“But at the same time...”
“When you say you had to leave because of an unfortunate romantic entanglement with the boss’s daughter, it doesn’t look good.” He exhaled sharply. “And you can forget it, if the prospective employer has a daughter of courting age.”
“Which brings us back to that talk you had with my father...” she prompted gently.
Guilt flashed across Dylan’s handsome face.
Emily leaned toward him. “He wanted to know what your intentions were, didn’t he?”
Dylan’s expression grew cagey. “He didn’t put it like that.”
“But he said something in the vicinity.”
Dylan lifted an infuriatingly autocratic hand. “You don’t need to worry about it.”
“But I—” Emily stopped abruptly at the sound of high-pitched whinnying. “Dylan, did you hear that?” she asked in alarm.
“Yes.” Dylan rose. “I sure as heck did.”
Chapter Six
Emily and Dylan rushed out to find Andrew letting himself into the paddock with the three wild mustangs.
“Let ’em all out!” the rowdy boys shouted.
“Andrew, no!” Emily screamed.
Realizing they were busted, the three teenage boys on the outside of the corral left Andrew high and dry and bolted for the pickup truck in the driveway. Dylan and Emily made no move to stop them as they peeled out—their concern was for the trapped, shaking boy, and the three horses who sensed danger.
“Easy, now, Ginger.” Dylan entered the enclosure. Head bowed, Dylan turned his shoulder toward the mare and tried to draw her in. She was having none of it. Her eyes were on the quaking boy behind him. Emily opened the gate, moving slowly and quickly, and slid inside, too.
While Dylan talked to the mustangs, urging Salt and Pepper to stay calm, Emily grabbed a hold of Andrew’s arm. She guided him outside the corral and shut the gate behind them.
Dylan continued soothing the three mustangs. When all were calm, he eased out of the gate and strode toward Emily and Andrew.
“Keep him here,” Dylan ordered before striding into the house.
Embarrassed and surly, Andrew yelled, “Go ahead—call my mom. I don’t care.”
What had happened to the once-sweet boy, Emily wondered. Who was this angry, defiant stranger?
Andrew wheeled on her. “Maybe you’ll fire me from the café now, too.”
“Is that what you want?” Emily asked, shocked.
“I want to do what I want, when I want.”
“Andrew, you’re only fifteen. You don’t want to start doing things that will earn you a criminal record.”
Andrew shrugged. “Maybe it’s in my blood. Maybe I’m just like my dad,” he asserted, as Dylan returned. “Maybe I belong in jail, too.”
Was that what this was about? Emily shot a troubled look at Dylan.
Andrew glared at Dylan. “I don’t know what the big deal is,” he said angrily. “I didn’t really do anything.”
“You were trespassing, and you could have been killed,” Dylan reprimanded sternly. “That’s plenty.”
Andrew fumed. “What did my mom say? Is she coming to get me?”
“I didn’t speak with her.” Dylan looked at Andrew without apology. “I spoke with the sheriff’s department. They have a patrol car in the area. Deputy Rio Vasquez will be here momentarily to take you into custody.”
Custody! “Was that really necessary?” Emily asked Dylan, after Andrew had been cuffed, read his rights and taken to the station.
“What would you have had me do?” Dylan stalked back into the ranch house, as impatient with her as she was with him.
“You should have called Simone!”
“The sheriff’s department can do that.” Dylan shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and picked up his keys.
Emily followed him out to the pickup truck.
“This could have been handled privately.”
Dylan disagreed. “If we don’t hold him accountable, all this will be is a close call and an incentive to do more the next time.”
Dylan caught her by the shoulders and continued before she could interrupt, “And make no mistake about it, Emily, there will be a next time—unless something happens to shake some sense into Andrew and get him off this path.”
Her emotions in turmoil, Emily glared at Dylan. “What makes you so sure of that? Maybe what happened tonight is the wake-up call Andrew needs, to straighten up.”
Dylan let go of her, and stepped back. “I’m not changing my mind, Emily.”
She thought of all the devastation Simone had been through the past couple of years, first with the shock of her husband being arrested for masterminding a burglary ring and sent to jail, the resultant divorce, and now Andrew’s incessant “attitude” and rebellion. Surely, Simone didn’t deserve to relive the nightmare of her husband’s tangles with the law, with her only son. “Not even if I beg you to reconsider, for the sake of my friends?” Emily asked plaintively.
Dylan shook his head. “Not even then.”
* * *
“I’VE NEVER SEEN IT so deserted in here,” Hank remarked, when he came into the café the next morning, accompanied by a debonair gentleman she didn’t recognize.
Emily looked at her older brother. Since he’d gotten married, the ex-Marine had become as hopelessly romantic as their parents. Like Greta and Shane, Hank wanted to see everyone he loved happily paired up. Unfortunately, Emily thought, thinking back to her own love life—or sudden lack thereof—such a fate was not in the cards for everyone. Especially not her and Dylan Reeves, the spectacular sex they’d had notwithstanding...
“The Cowtown Diner is having its grand opening this morning,” Emily explained.
“Yeah,” Hank commiserated. “The line was around the block when the doors opened at six this morning.”
Emily bristled, the betrayal she felt as unexpected as it was intense. “Did you and Ally eat there?” she asked her older brother.
Hank frowned. “Of course not. But I probably will at some point. Got to support all the businesses in town, you know. And speaking of business...I’d like you to meet Aaron Markham. He’s a tax attorney and CPA from Dallas.”
Emily welcomed the nice-looking man in the gray suit. “Nice to meet you.”
“Since you’re not busy, maybe you could sit down for a few minutes and chat with us,” Hank suggested.
“How about I bring you-all some coffee and a few menus first?” Emily suggested.
She gave them their choice of tables and hurried off.
Aaron Markham seemed like a pleasant and personable man. Her brother meant well. She could not have been less interested.
Until the door to the café opened and closed and Dylan Reeves walked in, that was.
Their eyes locked.
Emily felt a thrill go through her, followed swiftly by anger.
She carried the coffeepot over to the table. Hank tracked the direction of her gaze. “Yeah...” he murmured. “I heard what happened at Dylan’s ranch last night.”
“Then you also know how wrong he was!” Not waiting for her brother’s take on the situation, Emily stalked over to Dylan’s table. “A word with you, please?”
Dylan gestured to the other side of the booth. “Have a seat.”
He only wished she were that malleable! Emily gritted her teeth. “I’d prefer to take this outside.”
Dylan rose with exaggerated chivalry. “After you.”
Emily ushered the incorrigible rancher through the back door, into the alley. She didn’t know why she was still so angry with Dylan. She had disagreed with others plenty of times, on a variety of subjects, and never been this emotional, but somehow this felt intensely personal. As if she should have been able to talk to him and effect some change. Instead, he’d been as immovable as a two-ton boulder and, from the looks of it, still was.
“Simone had to post bail last night to get Andrew out of jail,” Emily reported.
“It might have been better had she let him stay the night in a cell.”
She should have known Dylan would say that, Emily thought, with quickly mounting aggravation. And when had he gotten to be such a hard case?
Emily huffed and went on, “The arraignment was held this morning. Thanks to your statement and the recommendation of the sheriff’s department, the district attorney charged Andrew—and his three accomplices—with trespassing and third-degree burglary. His friends all had previous records and have been sent to juvenile detention. Only Andrew, thus far, has been released to parental custody. And rather than be relieved, he was resentful about that, too.” Emily paused, shook her head. “I’ve never seen Simone so upset.” She had told her to take a few days off—with pay—until she could get things straightened out.
Dylan listened quietly. “How’s Andrew taking it?” he asked finally.
“He’s angry and ashamed.”
“Remorseful?” he pressed.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Dylan nodded, not at all surprised.
Where was his compassion? Emily wondered in frustration. She knew he had it—he showed it to the horses he trained. He’d also bestowed it on her on more than one occasion.
“And don’t say I told you so,” Emily grumbled, actually as shocked as Simone that the trauma of being arrested hadn’t been enough to shake some sense into the fifteen-year-old boy.
Something inscrutable flickered in Dylan’s expression as he folded his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Emily studied Dylan, not about to let him off the hook for his part in this mess.
For a moment she thought he was going to put up the usual barrier to his private thoughts. Instead, something in his gaze shifted, became more intimate which, in turn, prompted her to admit, “I’m afraid this is going to backfire on everyone.” Emily sighed. “That all it will do is make a bad situation worse.”
“That’s up to Andrew.”
Emily wasn’t used to feeling this helpless. She wrung her hands. “I feel I should do something.”
Dylan placed a steadying hand on her elbow. “The best thing you can do is stand back and let it play out. This is Andrew’s life. These are his choices to make, his consequences to deal with.”
Emily forced herself to remain calm. “He hasn’t made the right choices thus far,” she warned.
“Let’s hope that changes,” Dylan said. “And soon.”
* * *
EMILY WAS NOT CONTENT to leave everything up to fate—or the impulsive emotions of a teenage boy in crisis. As soon as the café closed for the day, she drove over to the sheriff’s department, to see what she could do.
Luck was with her. Deputy Rio Vasquez, the officer who’d arrested Andrew the night before, was just coming on duty. Her cousin, Kyle McCabe, was also on shift.
The two deputies shared the same outlook. “Dylan was right to call us and take a hard line,” Rio said.
Kyle nodded. “I know it seems like it isn’t that big a deal. But it is. Pranks like this are gateway crimes. The kids don’t see it that way, of course. They think they’re just messing around and accepting dares and having fun.” He sighed heavily. “But things have a way of getting out of control—fast—with kids this age and before you know it, someone is badly hurt. Or there’s a fatal car accident. And then lives are really turned upside down.”
“Dylan knows this better than anyone,” Rio added.
Emily did a double take. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Rio and Kyle exchanged wary looks.
Whatever they knew, Emily realized in disappointment, they weren’t going to share.
“The point is,” Rio continued, sidestepping her question completely, “Dylan takes the situation very seriously. And that’s good. The worst thing any of you could have done is used your influence with the district attorney to try to have the whole matter dropped, before any real consequences were felt.”
Dylan had said as much, but somehow it helped hearing the same thing from two such experienced lawmen.
Emily thanked them both, and Kyle walked her outside. Because he was her cousin, and they’d grown up together, he knew her pretty well. “So does this mean it’s over with you and Dylan Reeves?” he asked curiously.
Emily could confide in Kyle the way she couldn’t confide in her brothers. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I could date anyone who is as intractable as he is, for very long.” Maybe it would be best to cut her losses while the potential damage to her heart was still small.
“So it’s not like the two of you are in love or anything?” Kyle teased.
Emily blushed. “Heavens, no!”
“You were just kissing him on the green, the other night....”
“You saw that?”
“Emily, everyone saw that. It looked pretty hot.”
It had been hot. Their tumble into bed the evening before, hotter still. But sex wasn’t everything. Even between friends. Emily bit her lip. “I’m just not sure we’re compatible in the ways that count.”
Kyle chuckled. “You mean he’s not makeover material.”
“I haven’t tried to make him over.” Not like she had in the past. She hadn’t gone clothes shopping with him, helped decorate his place or suggested a way to further his career aspirations—like she had with the previous guys she had dated....
Clearly not seeing the difference in her approach to this male-female relationship, Kyle lifted a skeptical brow. “Well, that’s good. Because unlike your previous boyfriends—who, by the way, were all way too malleable for their own good—Dylan is a man who operates on the strength of his convictions. And I don’t see that changing. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
* * *
EMILY HAD PROMISED herself she would not get enmeshed in any more dead-end romances. Which left her with only one choice.
“I think we should be friends,” she told Dylan, when she showed up at his ranch that afternoon.
“I thought we already were. Or at least were on the way to becoming good friends.”
“What I mean is,” Emily explained, aware her voice sounded a little rusty, and her emotions felt all out of whack, too, “I don’t think we should have sex again.”
Their glances locked and they shared another moment of tingling awareness. Finally, Dylan said, “It was that bad, hmm?”
Emily told herself not to read anything into the concern in his eyes. “You know it wasn’t,” she murmured, blushing. The truth was she had climaxed like crazy under his masterful touch. “But sex complicates things. I don’t need additional complications right now. My life is chaotic enough.”
Dylan rocked back on his heels. He tore off his leather work gloves and braced his hands on his hips. “Okay.”
Emily tore her gaze from his rock-solid chest and abs. She looked into his eyes, a little surprised he hadn’t argued with her. She cleared her throat. “You’re fine with this?”
The tension between Dylan’s shoulder blades eased. “You just told me no. I respect that, and I will honor that.” His gaze gentling all the more, he flashed her a crooked smile meant to conciliate. He stepped closer and lifted a hand to her cheek, briefly touching the side of her face. “That doesn’t mean I still don’t want to have sex with you. So,” he said, and slanted her a telling look, “if you change your mind and decide you would like to have sex with me again, it’s up to you to let me know.”
Emily wasn’t used to guys being this reasonable. Aware her face was still tingling from his brief, sensual touch, she drew a deep breath. “Okay, then.”
“Okay.” Another pause. He scanned her Western-wear-clad form. “Did you want to help with the mustangs?” he asked finally, as cheerful as ever when it came to his work.
Emily smiled, glad her efforts to redirect their relationship had worked out so well. “I would love to.”
Dylan turned and headed for the training area. “Salt and Pepper have already been put through their paces today.”
Falling into step beside him, Emily teased, “Saving the best for last?”
Dylan winked. “I figured you would show up, and since Ginger clearly is your favorite...” He walked into the round pen, motioning for Emily to join him.
This time, when he shut the gate, Ginger came right over to him. Everywhere Dylan went, the mustang followed. He petted her nose, her mane, her neck. Ran a hand under her abdomen, across her flanks and down her legs. The beautiful mare seemed to not just tolerate his handling of her, but welcome it.
A phenomenon Emily understood all too well...
“I noticed you’re not disagreeing with my assessment that you’ve been playing favorites with the herd,” Dylan said.