“That horse nearly throd you clean into the funeral parlor, boy.”Whoops of cowboy laughter cut through the dusty air.Gemma Jansen hung on the edge of the trash-talking bronc riders, waiting for a break in the conversation. The rodeo announcer’s voice reverberated through the arena stands as he pumped up the crowd for the next event: steer wrestling.“I didn’t break nothin’, but he shore loosened my jaw so’s I tasted some dirt.”Another round of male laugher.A baby-faced kid shoved a plug of tobacco in his cheek. “I’d rather have a bucker like him than the last one I had. Shoot. That bronc couldn’ta tossed off a baby blanket.”Gemma jammed her hands in her jeans pockets and sauntered closer to prop a hip against the muddy tailgate. “Afternoon, boys.”Immediately slouched postures straightened. A couple of the younger fellas even removed their hats. Aw. Their mommas would’ve been proud at their show of respect.Still, it made Gemma feel…old.Feel? Hell, she was old enough to be any o
“You don’t owe me nothin’, Cash. Just forget it.”Cash grabbed the young woman’s hand, dragging her front and center. “I’d love to milk this jealous side of you for all it’s worth, but I ain’t that mean. Or that patient.Gemma, meet my daughter, Macie Honeycutt. Macie, Gemma Jansen.”*********Relief swept through Gemma.“Ah. She’s the one you told me about,” Macie said with a charming grin exactly like her father’s.“Daughter?” Gemma repeated.Cash kept his gaze on hers. “Yep.”“I-I didn’t know you had any kids.”“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gem.”A pointed silence thickened the air.“Well, this is fun… not,” Macie said.“Macie, darlin’, I know you just pulled in and we’ve got some catchin’ up to do. But I’d appreciate it if you’d run along for a bit and wait for me by the main entrance until after I have a private word with Miz Jansen.”“Fine. I hate being a third wheel anyway. But don’t be surprised if I make a few new friends on my own.”He shot his daughter a warning l
“But—”“Would it matter if I was older than you?”“No.”“Then it don’t matter that you got a few years on me.” He kissed her hotly, a drawn out seductive promise. “Besides, you’re sexy. Kinda remind me of Madonna.”“Madonna the pop singer? But she’s—”“The same age as you.” He squinted at her. “Yep, definitely. You’re like Madonna in a cowgirl hat. And if I had my pick of any of the ladies—including the material girl, I’d still choose you.”“I forgot what a sweet-talker you are.” She steered the conversation back to business.“I’m heading back to my ranch today. When can you be there to start?”“Damn.” He frowned and shuffled back a step. “One kiss and my mind is on a single track.”“What?”“Macie. We’d planned to spend the summer traveling together. Since her momma died a coupla years back, she ain’t got no one else. I can’t just shove her aside, especially when I been doin’ that to the poor kid her whole life.”Without conscious thought, she smoothed the guilt from his puckered brow
For the past week he’d been finishing sculptures for his gallery showing. A series of interconnected Western pieces, different styles, including clay pieces slated to become bronze statues, and welded metal works using rusted sections of discarded farm equipment. So far the only concrete images on canvas were landscapes done with oil paints. Boring. He needed inspiration, something new and different. The only way to find the passion that defined his quirky artistic style was to start at the source of all things Western: rodeo. The salt-of-the-earth people—spectators, families of the cowboys and cowgirls, and the iron will of the competitors themselves. The livestock—angry, slobbering bulls, high-strung broncs kicking at the metal chutes, the bellow of steers, the nervous tamping of hooves behind the gates. The low bellow of the steers and calves in the pens. The rich scents of sweat and leather, mud and manure, the choking heat and the constant buzz of insects, hay and linament, toba
He cocked his head. “Interestin’.”“What?”“That you have the face of an Indian princess and the mouth of a truck driver.”Against her better judgment, Macie smiled. “I’ll admit that line was better.”“I ain’t usin’ a line on you.” Serious once again, he stared at her steadily. “What’s your name?”“What’s yours?” she countered.“Carter.”She mimicked his posture and cocked her head. “Interestin’.”“What?”“That you have the face of a Viking warrior and the name of a Georgia peanut farmer.”His enormous grin, with a side of deep-set dimples, nearly knocked her off her game.Damn. This Carter guy was trouble with a capital ‘T’.“You always such a smart-mouth?”She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”“Or a curse.” Still smiling, he leaned closer. “So, what is your name?”“Macie.”“Pretty. A little odd, a little flowery, but it fits you.”Macie frowned. “Was that an insult?”“Not at all. Anyway, Amazin’ Macie. You from around here?”“No.”“Just passin’ through?”“Yep.”“With who? By yourself? Or wit
“That’s not a good idea.”“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time. Be ready.”“For what?”“For me to be the man to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”******Gemma and Carter were lost in their own thoughts on the way back to the Bar 9.Once they hit the sagebrush and wide-open spaces of Wyoming, Gemma sighed. “Sorry to spring this on you, Carter. I was afraid if you knew I was lookin’ for another fulltime foreman—”“—that I’d bail on you? Come on, Gemma, you know me better than that. I promised I’d be here all summer. Despite the shitty opinion Cash has of the McKays, you know we always keep our word.”“That you do.”“What’s really goin’ on?”She didn’t take her eyes off the gray ribbon of bumpy road. “I wasn’t sure he’d say yes.”“So? It ain’t like he’s the only man for the job. Shoot, there’s lots of guys around here more than qualified.”Gemma angled her chin from Carter’s shrewd eyes so he couldn’t see her blush.“Hellfire and damnation. He is the only one you wanted, ai
“What’s that?”“A blindfold. Then you won’t know if you’re in the kitchen, the living room or the bedroom. You’ll be so busy feelin’ what I’m doin’ to you that you won’t have time to think. Now close your eyes and turn around.”Gemma knew his wasn’t a request. If she refused he’d take it as a sign she wasn’t ready for this intimacy, and he’d leave her house and her employ. But she was ready. It’d taken her a full year to get to this point and she wasn’t about to back down now. Blood pounded a warning in her head not to be stupid. She slowly spun toward the window.The dense cloth covered her eyes and she felt a pinch in the middle of her skull as he tied it. He turned her back around. “Can you see?”Gemma’s heart rate kicked up as she opened her eyes to complete blackness. “No.”“Good. You’ll leave it on? You won’t make me tie your hands too?”A picture formed in her mind of being trussed up, naked and at his every wicked whim. The thought made her absolutely dripping wet.He chuckled
Cash plopped on the couch, keeping her straddled across his lap.“Can I take off the blindfold now?”“No. But let’s get rid of the shirt. Lift.” In one quick movement her tank top disappeared. He eyed the front closure on her pink bra. Well, well. This presented an intriguing opportunity. “Lean back and put your hands on my knees.”She did so without arguing.Cash nibbled on her lips, not quite kissing her as he unhooked her bra. The cups split and he slid the straps over her shoulders and down to her wrists. Three quick twists and he lifted his foot to step on the thicker back strap, leaving her wrists trapped in the stretchy arm bands.Gemma froze. “What are you doing?”“Makin’ sure you can’t get away. I wanna take my time tasting these.” He flicked his tongue across her nipple. “And I know you’re a little squirmy.” He blew on the wet spot he’d created and watched the coral-colored skin tighten into a pointed tip.She jerked back.“See? I gotcha right where I wantcha.” His hands cur