A Cowboy to Marry (11 page)

Holden grinned and paid for the wreaths. From there, they drove to the arts-and-crafts store. On a Saturday evening so close to Christmas, it was crowded with shoppers eager to pick up what they needed to complete their own decorating.

Libby headed straight for the yuletide aisles. She filled her shopping basket with red velvet ribbon, pinecones, and silver and gold ornaments while Holden stood patiently by.

Finally she turned. “Aren't you going to get anything?” she asked in consternation.

He regarded her with the same indulgence doting men used for their wives. “I was waiting for you to finish.”

Libby swallowed, pushing the idea of marriage away. “I've got what I need. So you better get a move on, cowboy.”

Grinning, Holden headed off to the college-sports section. He picked up a University of Texas banner, miniature longhorn cattle mascots, and footballs and basketballs.

“That's not Christmassy,” Libby said with a perplexed frown.

He laughed, soft and low. “It is to me.” Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Where's your school spirit? You're a UT grad, too.”

Tingling with desire, Libby straightened. “Men!”

He regarded her with comically exaggerated exasperation. “Women!”

And they were on.

After Libby paid for their purchases—over Holden's protests—the two of them went back to his ranch and spread their purchases out on the family-room floor. Holden turned on a Chris Botti Christmas CD. As the sexy trumpet music filled the room, they began working in earnest, ribbing each other all the while.

An hour later, they took their creations out to the driveway. Using coated wire, they attached three points of the wreaths to the front grilles of their respective vehicles, then stood back to judge their handiwork.

As Libby admired his breathtaking creation, she had to admit Holden had done a stellar job.

He had passed on a bow, and instead threaded the evergreen wreath with burnt-orange and white ribbons, the university colors. The official Texas banner was wired to the center of the wreath. Miniature longhorn mascots, footballs and basketballs served as ornaments.

Hers was equally gorgeous, though. She had tied a fancy, red velvet bow to the top of her wreath and studded the evergreen boughs with pine cones, and gold and silver ornaments.

“Much as I'm loath to admit it, I think yours is better,” Holden said finally.

Libby shook her head. “Yours is definitely more original.”

They exchanged grins.

He held out his hand. “A tie, then?”

She fitted her palm against his. “Agreed.”

Their fingers remained entwined. “So…who makes who dinner?” he asked eventually.

Who cared about eating, when her date for the evening looked so sexy?

Telling herself all good things come to those who wait, Libby reined in her skyrocketing desire and suggested cheerfully, “Suppose we do it together?”

A sensual smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He seemed as eager to spend time with her as she was with him. “Good idea. Although I have to tell you, my fridge isn't nearly as well stocked as yours.”

He wasn't kidding, Libby soon found out.

There was part of a chocolate-peppermint pie from his sister's restaurant. A gallon of milk, another of orange juice, a six-pack of Bohemia beer. A package of hot dogs and buns, mustard, ketchup and pickles. The pantry held a bag of chips.

“Looks like we're having an indoor cookout,” she sighed.

“Sounds good to me.”

As Holden built a fire in the fireplace, Libby located the long-handled forks for grilling. They set up picnic-style in front of the hearth. When he smiled at her, she suddenly realized that nothing was as simple as it seemed.

 

M
OST WOMEN WOULD HAVE
turned up their nose at the meager offerings in his fridge and insisted he take them out for a proper Saturday-evening dinner. It was only eight-thirty. There were plenty of places in Laramie still open.

But Libby seemed content to rough it right along with him. He was content just sitting there in the soft light, listening to the music and watching her.

“You keep smiling,” he said after a while, aware that there was magic in the air and it was all due to her.

“I was just thinking about how happy I am right now.”
Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I haven't felt this much Christmas spirit in a long time.”

Holden fitted a hot dog on a long-handled fork and gave it to her. “What were your holidays like as a kid?”

She shifted closer to the fire and held the meat over the burning oak. “Memories of the holidays with my parents are a little fuzzy, since they died when I was in elementary school, but I can remember them taking me to see Santa Claus at the mall, decorating a tree, having Christmas dinner in a restaurant.”

There was such warm affection in her voice. “And after that—with your aunt Ida?” Holden prodded.

Libby moved over slightly, so he could cook his hot dog, too. “Aunt Ida was all about the little things,” she reflected fondly. “Perfectly decorating the tree and the rest of the house, baking gifts for all the neighbors, caroling…. After she passed, the holidays lost a lot of its joy for me. But maybe that's because I let it…”

Holden's shoulder nudged hers as they both tried to keep their hot dogs from getting too close to the flames. “I remember Christmas with Percy's family was always a little tense.”

“And for good reason.” She handed Holden her fork and then set about opening up two whole-wheat buns. “All his parents ever wanted was to spend time with him. And all Percy ever wanted was to head for the slopes.” Libby squirted on mustard. “He loved his folks, but he still had one foot out the door all of Christmas Eve, much to their displeasure. We usually left for New Mexico or Colorado right after present opening on Christmas Day.”

Holden helped transfer the deliciously charred hot dogs to the buns. “And once you were there?”

She added potato chips to both their plates. “He skied
every second he could on the black diamond runs, which were way too difficult for me. So—” she sighed wearily, munching on a dill pickle “—we usually spent a lot of time apart. Although we'd usually meet up for a late dinner in a restaurant.”

Holden opened a beer for her. “Did you ever try to change that?”

“You know Percy.” Libby took a sip of the golden liquid. “He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it…and that was that.”

And, Holden was willing to bet, she had never complained.

He had loved his late friend, but in this respect, Percy had been a donkey's rear end, because Libby had deserved so much better.

“What about you?” she asked as they began to eat. “What were your Christmases like as a kid?”

Holden watched the play of firelight on her honeyed hair. “Just what you would expect.” He shrugged. “Fun, loving. All the traditional stuff. Lots of family.” He sobered. “That changed when Heidi and I got involved.”

Libby finished her hot dog and munched on a chip. “How so?”

“The first December Heidi and I were together, we were just beginning our relationship. Heidi learned she was pregnant. The crisis colored the holiday.”

“She wasn't happy?”

“Not really. Not the way I was.” Again, Holden's shoulder touched Libby's as they turned their attention to the flames. “Looking back now, I realize she wasn't over her ex. At the time it happened, I thought it had to do with the fact that she was expecting a baby and we weren't married.” Wearily, Holden continued, “Heidi knew her family
wasn't going to like that—or the fact we had been dating only a couple of months. So we went to Cabo, to elope.”

“And then in March, she miscarried,” Libby recalled.

Holden nodded, the memory making him grim. The six months he had been married had been the unhappiest of his life, yet he'd felt like an utter failure when it all fell apart.

He swallowed and pushed on. “In June, Heidi told me she didn't love me, was never going to love me, asked for a divorce and left town.”

A compassionate silence stretched between them. Libby reached over and took his hand and Holden exhaled. “Our marriage ended in September.”

She looked down at their laced fingers. “And then you and Percy went off on that last trip, and he died later that month.”

Holden gave her hand a squeeze, let go. “I haven't felt a lot like celebrating the holidays since.”

Another silence fell, this one not so easy to bridge. “I understand,” Libby said softly at last. “I used to feel the same way.”

Holden noticed her use of the past tense. “And now?” he pressed, suddenly realizing how much was hinging on her answer.

For the first time in a long while, Libby looked at peace. “I'm thinking it's time to turn the page, start over,” she said emphatically. “Really enjoy the holidays for a change.”

Absorbing the sight of her, so lovely and intent, Holden grinned. Together, they stood and carried their dishes into the kitchen. “That being the case, maybe we should do something about that.” He took her arm and led her back toward the living room.

“Like what?” Libby asked, her eyes sparkling as they settled back on the floor before the fire.

Desire welled inside him. “Like this.”

The next thing Libby knew, Holden's arms were around her and his head was lowering to hers. She gasped as their lips forged. Waves of anticipation swept through her and then his mouth was locked on hers in a slow, sexy kiss that stole her breath. She melted against him, her breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest.

He was so warm and so strong. So unbelievably tender in his pursuit of her. She felt completely overwhelmed by the exciting masculine taste of his mouth, the tantalizing stroking of his tongue and the sweet, evocative pressure of his lips. She sighed in contentment as he deepened the kiss even more, commanding and seducing. She felt the sandpapery rub of his beard, inhaled the unique leather-and-soap fragrance that was him and sank ever deeper into his embrace.

Still kissing, they shifted. He guided her backward, so she was lying on the rug before the fire. He was beside her, his leg wedged between hers.

Libby loved how he challenged her to stop trying to please everyone else, and worry instead about pleasing herself. She loved the reckless, womanly way he made her feel.

He wasn't afraid to take desire to the limit, and for the first time, he made her want to do the same.

It didn't matter if they loved each other, although she was beginning to feel as if she might be falling for him in a major way. It didn't matter if this was meant to work out for the foreseeable future, or just the holiday season. Libby wanted Holden. She wanted to feel alive. Blessed. And joyful. She wanted this gift of time and caring and passion. The intimate emotional connection only he offered. And this one holiday, she was going for it all.

 

H
OLDEN HADN'T MEANT TO
kiss Libby this evening.

Oh, he had known he would hold her in his arms again. He had known from the way she looked at him, whenever she thought he didn't see, that she felt the new yearning between them, too.

He
hadn't
planned to let his passion for her get ahead of him, or risk having her feel that this was something that translated only into physical needs.

He lifted his head. “I want to take it slow.”

Libby flashed a sultry smile and kissed him again, seeming as enthralled by the free-flowing desire between them. “So do I.”

Tenderness surged through him. He wanted to honor and cherish her in a way she truly deserved. And that meant taking his sweet time pursuing her. He wanted to give her all the consideration and latitude that she had so obviously been missing. “You know what I mean.”

She looked up at him with misty eyes, making no move to pull away. “I know what would be wise, and I know what I want,” she murmured, her heart pounding in cadence to his. “And they aren't the same things at all.”

She kissed him once more, surrendering even as she was seducing.

Gathering her close again, he gave in to the feelings surging inside him. He kissed her long and hard, slow and deep, reveling in their burgeoning passion. Until he felt her trembling and drew back once again, wanting to make sure. “Libby…”

She arched against him. “Make love to me, Holden. Right now and right here. And I'll make love to you….”

The steadiness in her voice and eyes was all the invitation he needed. He swept off her sweater, her bra, her jeans. With her help, he dispensed with his shirt. Bare-chested, he stroked his hand down her body, charting the dips and curves. And still they kissed, the connection getting hotter and more erotic. Libby was wild in a way he could never have imagined, free and sexy and celebrating what they felt.

She made a muted whimper of pleasure when he captured her breasts. Luxuriating in the silky texture, he palmed the softness of the feminine globes and rubbed the erect tips with his thumbs, caressed them with his lips and tongue.

Determined this night would be every bit as memorable as he could make it, he moved back to her mouth, putting everything he had into the kiss. Her lips were pliant beneath his, giving and testing, her body soft and surrendering.

Aware that nothing had ever seemed as right as this, he set about exploring the rest of her. Removed her panties. Slid a throw pillow beneath her head, and stretched out beside her on the rug, knowing that every moment they delayed, their mutual gratification would be multiplied tenfold.

Libby locked eyes with him and reached for his fly. “I want you naked, too.”

Not about to let himself get ahead of her, he chuckled. “In due time.”

With a mixture of tenderness and primal possessiveness filling his soul, he kissed his way from the nape of her neck, across her breasts, to her navel.

The need he wanted to see glimmered in her eyes.

Feeling a little like a conqueror who had just captured the fair maiden of his dreams, he moved lower still. She gasped as he found the silkiest, sweetest part of her, the softness of her body giving new heat to his. Loving the fierceness of her response to him, he kept right on tantalizing her, until at last she fell apart in his arms. Satisfaction rushed through him, along with raw, aching need.

He moved upward, rubbing his chest against her bare breasts, savoring the feel of her budding nipples, then took her mouth in a slow, hot mating dance.

Libby moaned and shuddered once again. “Holden…” The sound was part praise, part plea.

Her palms slid around his back, massaging the muscles on either side of his spine, then dropping to the waistband of his jeans.

“Naked,” she repeated insistently.

He grinned as she rolled him onto his back, moved over him and divested him of his jeans and briefs.

He caught his breath as she straddled his hips and moved slowly, provocatively lower. Found him with her hands and lips, kissing and caressing him in all the ways he had fantasized her doing. With her hair falling across his abdomen, she enticed him further, whispered playfully, “See? This is nice, too.”

“Really nice,” Holden agreed.

And then there was no more waiting. For either of them.

Not about to climax without her, and needing to possess her, he pulled her upward. He shifted her onto her back and stretched out over her, taking control once again.

“We can try something else later. Right now, I want you this way.”

Her head fell back in an age-old gesture of feminine surrender that heightened the excitement between them even more. “I want you this way, too.” Murmuring in pleasure, she wrapped her arms and legs around him and lifted her hips to his.

“I'm glad we agree.” He penetrated her slowly, sliding his palms beneath her, lifting her and filling her as she opened herself up to him even more.

And then they were one, kissing each other hotly, moving urgently, coming together again and again until there was only this moment in time. This heat. This passion. This connection that neither one of them had expected to find.

Thrills swept through them, again and again, until there was nothing but this gift as they writhed together. Until there was no more denying their ardent yearning for each other, no more delaying the inevitable. Spirits soaring, they succumbed to the swirling pleasure.

And Holden knew what he hadn't before. He no longer saw Libby as his rebound romance, but as the woman he wanted—the only woman for him.

 

“C
OME WITH ME
,” Holden urged early the following morning, as Libby gathered up her belongings and prepared to head back to her house.

“I already told you I was planning to attend. Your mother sent me an email invitation for the brunch.” It was
going to be held at Shane and Greta's ranch. The only people who were attending, aside from herself, was their immediate family.

She hadn't been slated to go as Holden's date, Libby thought as she sat down to pull on her boots. More like an “informally adopted” member of the family. This was part of her and Greta's strategy to take some of the responsibility of looking after her from Holden's shoulders.

And had Libby not followed her own swiftly building desires and made hot, passionate love with Holden, the strategy might have worked.

Regret that she hadn't exactly done everything she could to make sure Holden was relieved of his feelings of guilt and responsibility toward her filled Libby's heart.

She was being selfish again. Reaching out to him, letting him be her lifeline and a way out of her own residual grief and loneliness. When what she should have been doing was helping him extricate himself from the promise he had made to her late husband.

Holden held out his hand to assist her to her feet. “I want us to go together.”

Together, they headed down the stairs to the foyer. “And make a statement,” Libby guessed, not sure how she felt about that. On one hand, she was as thrilled by the possessive note in Holden's low, sexy voice as she had been by the way he'd made love to her.

On the other…she had become involved with Percy far too swiftly, and look how that had turned out in the end. Holden had done the same thing with Heidi. Again, with disastrous results.

When it came to relationships, going slow seemed to be necessary for success. What she and Holden had done the night before—passionately making love and then falling
asleep wrapped in each other's arms—was anything
but
cautious.

Undeterred, Holden helped her into her coat. “I want everyone to know we're dating.”

Libby adjusted her scarf around her neck. “They already know that.”

He lounged against the banister as she searched for her keys. “They knew we were on…and then off.”

“And now we're on again.” Flushing at her presumptuousness, Libby abruptly stopped talking. The last thing she wanted to do was take too much for granted here and end up being a burden to him in much the same way she had been to Percy. Belatedly, she looked at Holden in apology and amended, “Through the holidays, anyway.”

The inscrutable look was back on his face. “How about as long as this works for both of us?” he suggested amiably, after a moment. “No need to put a time limit on it.”

As he sauntered closer, Libby struggled not to notice how sexy and self-assured he looked.

He took her in his arms. “And, instead, let's take it one day at a time.”

Which would give him an out, should he want one, she supposed. It was sort of a guarantee she wouldn't become a burden, once the initial excitement of their sexual coupling passed, and she was more than okay with that.

Telling herself she was doing this as much for herself, as for him, Libby murmured, “Okay.”

 

“D
ON'T YOU LOOK PRETTY
today,” Greta told Libby two hours later, when she and Holden arrived at the Circle M for brunch.

Libby hugged Holden's mother warmly. “Thank you.” She felt as if she was glowing, inside and out. And not
just from the lovemaking. It was the sense of family she suddenly had, too. The knowledge she no longer had to be alone.

“Holden, you look happy, too.”

He winked. “I am happy, Mom.”

“I can see that,” Greta said thoughtfully, giving her son a meaningful look.

Seconds later, they were surrounded by the rest of the clan. Hugs and hellos followed.

Holden went off for a word with his dad, ostensibly to help him empty ice into big, stainless-steel tubs, but it was clear more was going on than that.

Emily frowned at the tense exchange, visible through the kitchen window. “What's going on between Dad and Holden?”

Jeb's wife, Cady, shrugged. “No clue.”

Hank's wife, Ally, kept a poker face. “I'm not sure, either,” she said eventually.

Maybe not, Libby thought, studying Greta's careful, polite expression. But Holden's mother knew something.

Even if she wasn't about to reveal what, in front of Libby.

Just that quickly, the warmth Libby had felt when she'd joined the family gathering faded.

She'd had a glimpse what it would be like to be a McCabe. But she was a far cry from ever really being part of the clan. No matter how hard Holden's mother was trying to bring her into the fold.

“What happened?” Holden asked later, after the gathering had broken up and they were driving back to her house.

Libby turned to him. “Maybe you should tell me.”

 

H
OLDEN HAD KNOWN
it was a bad time to talk, but his dad hadn't wanted to put it off. Holden turned his glance away from the wheel of his pickup long enough to ask, “You saw me outside with my dad?”

Libby folded her arms in front of her. The action served to emphasize the lush curves of her breasts beneath her open coat and Christmassy sweater. “All the women did.”

That didn't necessarily mean anything.

Pink color sweeping into her cheeks, Libby continued her inquisition. “Was your father warning you not to get involved with me?”

“Is that what you thought?” Holden asked in surprise.

Her lips set in a feisty pout, she tossed her head. Strands of silky hair, already tousled from the wind, swished about her shoulders. “It would make sense.”

“No, it wouldn't,” he told her frankly, glad they were nearly at their destination so he'd be able to stop driving and focus all his attention on her. “My dad likes you. He wants to see me married again, and so does my mom.”

Arms still folded militantly, Libby settled deeper into the bench seat. “Then…?”

Struggling to contain his own emotions, Holden turned on his left signal light. “I asked him—and my uncles—to do me a favor.” Obviously, not a good move on his part. Holden slowed his truck as they reached the town limits. He grimaced, bracing himself for the fireworks ahead. “I'm not sure you're going to like it.”

She released an indignant breath, looking so pretty that all he could think about was kissing her again. “Tell me anyway,” she demanded.

He stopped at a traffic light. “I asked them to talk to everyone they knew in the business community throughout the state and find out what they could about Jeff Johnston.”