Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (5 page)

“Oh,” she
sputtered, stomping the ground with her foot, “you’re impossible!”

Why did this man
get to her so? He was a hunk—no question about that. But hunks had never
mattered before. He was conceited and always bothering her. Well, he had been
helpful tonight. Why did her muscles tense and then turn to mush whenever he
smiled, which wasn’t often, but still?

Damn, he looked
good. Her brain seemed to do a double click. It had been a while. Had she
forgotten the alarm bells? Could her body be telling her it was ready for a
safe, out of the way fling? No muss, no fuss. Just good uncomplicated sex. Clint
stood with hands on hips grinning crookedly at her as if he were inside her
head. Never mind, she told herself, it wasn’t a good idea anyway.

“Guess we might as
well go,” she fumed, kicking at a flat tire. “Maybe it won’t look so bad in the
morning.”

“My truck’s right
over this way,” Clint said, leading the way. “Is it okay with you if we stop by
shedrow? I’ve got a horse to medicate yet.”

“Sure,” she agreed.
“That’s fine. It wouldn’t hurt for me to check on Hope’s knees again.” Being
with her horse might help take her mind off the night’s events and off her
escort.

Once in the truck,
Cassie couldn’t figure out what to say. Maybe she was coming down from the
adrenalin rush caused by her would-be tormentors. The silence hung between her
and her driver like a heavy quilt.

At last, Clint
asked, “I’ve been wondering—is Cassie short for Cassandra?”

She laughed easily.
“No. I’m not a Cassandra. It’s short for Cassidy. My dad was a huge Hopalong
Cassidy fan.”

Clint looked
sharply her. “I’ll be damned. Cassidy. I like that. Your dad must be quite a
character.”

“That, and more. He’s
the reason I’m here. For his whole life he’s chased the dream of having a
stakes contender. Hope came along with a lot of potential.” Leaning her head
back, Cassie relaxed. “In March, Dad had a pretty bad stroke.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, that’s
why I got recruited for this job. When Hope had troubles in her first two
races, Dad encouraged me to bring her out here so she could regain her
confidence.”

“I think she found
that today. So you’re doing all of this as a favor to your dad.”

“Mostly. I doubt
any of us always understand our motivations for doing things.”

“True enough. But
what you’re doing requires a kind of courage and loyalty that’s rare. Don’t
suppose many social workers trade in their desk jobs to be at a track at five
in the morning until who knows when.”

Cassie didn’t
respond to this sudden praise. She was struggling to control the toasty feeling
rushing through her veins. She hadn’t predicted that he could be kind and
gentle. Powerful. Sexy. Demanding. But not kind and gentle.

“Well, here we are,”
Clint said, pulling to a stop in front of a row of horse stalls. “Let me change
a poultice on old Storm Jet, and then we can see how Hope is doing.”

“Okay,”
Cassie concurred, aware that without saying so he didn’t want her walking
shedrow alone. Given her earlier evening experience, she swallowed whatever
pride was left and waited. Besides, she enjoyed watching the tall tough cowboy
speak tenderly to his horse. His fingertips moved gingerly up and down Storm
Jet’s foreleg, feeling for anything hot or out of place.

Cassie had seen
many men and women do the same thing to horses hundreds of times, if not
thousands. Why were his movements so erotic? She felt as if he were touching
her leg, her thigh, her breast. She shivered.

Clint glanced at her
standing in the doorway. His nostrils flared. He looked quickly back his work
and continued rubbing his hands over the leg and knee.

She thought she heard
him say, “Damn, you’re tempting.” Which didn’t make sense at all.

“What did you say?”
she asked.

“Just talking to my
horse. There.” He stood and looked at his handiwork. That should hold her until
tomorrow. I’ll stop by in the morning before I head home. Guess we ought to
check in on your winner.”

Cassie nodded,
grinning broadly. “Winner—that’s an intoxicating word!”

- o -

As they walked to
Cassie’s horse, Clint felt her tug at his arm to stop him. She scanned the starry
sky. She seemed to stop breathing for a long moment.

“Damn,” she said in
a hushed tone, hugging herself, “we don’t see a sky like that in Chicago. Looks
like you could pluck your own personal star.”

“Yeah, it’s
fantastic. I never tire of watching Father Sky change hour by hour and season
by season. Here, put this on,” he offered, taking his heavy jacket and draping
it around her shoulders. “Wyoming evening air can get nippy.”

“Thanks,” she said,
shuddering. He watched her breathe deeply. He’d swear she was savoring his
scent. Abruptly, she scurried toward Hope’s stall.

Clint lengthened
his stride to keep up, painfully aware of her sensuality. While unable to read
her thoughts, he sensed the electricity pulsating between them. He’d been attracted
to the firebrand since he first saw her rear end sticking out beside her filly
as she bent over a hoof. But now he was having second thoughts. She had
beware
of danger
written all over her. He doubted she’d had many casual
relationships.

If he didn’t watch
it, he was going to willingly fall into a snare large enough for any man, and
he didn’t even know who’d set the trap. Was it her? Was it him? Was it the
universe? This woman wouldn’t be satisfied with just sex. And he certainly
needed no emotional entanglements, particularly with a temperamental woman from
the big city.

After running her
hands up and down Hope’s front legs and knees, Cassie announced, “They’re cool.
That’s a relief.”

She stepped out of the
filly’s stall and turned toward him. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask. What did
that guy mean tonight when he talked about me being saved by an Indian raid?”

Clint glowered at
her. Her blank look told him everything. He spun as if to bolt.

 She caught him by
the arm. “What did I say wrong now? I can’t ever seem to talk to you for more
than five minutes without one of us getting upset.”

He grimaced. “I don’t
mean to insult you, but you are beyond naïve at times. Did you think this skin
was created by the sun? I’m half Ute. My mother is a full blood. My father was
a mixture of all those things whites tend to be.”

“Oh.” Her eyes
widened. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I work with people of color all the time—guess
maybe I’m sort of color blind.”

He had a difficult
time believing her, yet he knew intuitively that the outspoken, fiery Cassidy O’Hanlon
did not lie. She might have many faults, but he was sure lying was not one of
them.

Narrowing her eyes,
Cassie quipped, “You know, tonight I think I’m very pleased to have been
rescued by an Indian raid rather than by the local cavalry.”

Clint smiled at the
mischievous woman. One moment she hissed at him and the next she tempted him. She
never ceased being provocative. He could almost feel her surging heat. When she
was busy he took the opportunity to rearrange his erection, which had become
incredibly hard and uncomfortable.

- o -

Cassie stepped into
the next stall, bent over, and rummaged though a pack. Finally she emerged with
a tube of ointment.

She turned and
fixed her green sparkling eyes on his. “Caught you gawking at my butt. See
anything you like, Mr. Travers?”

“I’ve wanted to see
your hair down,” he said softly,  “since I first saw you. Do you always keep it
in a ponytail?”

“No,” she responded
weakly. She wet her lips. Was this it? Was he going to kiss her at last? Was
she ready for him? She didn’t do flings. But she was a thousand miles from
home. So, why not? Her nipples hardened. She felt the sure sign of wetness in
her pussy. She had her answer—she was more than ready. Her fingers trembling
slightly, she removed the band holding her hair in place and shook out her long
tresses, letting them fall loosely over her breasts. Smiling, she arched her
back and thrust her pelvis forward in silent invitation.

“Sweet Jesus,”
Clint muttered, closing the distance between them. Gently, he ran his fingers
through hair, grazing her breast in the process.

Cassie’s eyes went
wide and she bit her lower lip.

He smiled and bent
his neck, leaning toward her.

She stood on
tiptoes, raising her lips to meet his. Their lips brushed. His tongue sought
her mouth and she opened to him, chasing his probing tongue with her own. Suddenly
overwhelmed, Cassie slid off his lips gasping for air. She shook her head
trying to find clarity. Spasms of desire raced from her toes to her most
private place. His arousal pressed against her tummy; his hands clutched her
buttocks. Thinking was a nearly impossible task. If she wanted to change her
mind, this might be her last chance.

He held her tight
as if he feared she’d run. He seemed to be smoldering just as much as she was. Were
they ready to chance a wildfire?

She was certain of
only one thing: she’d not had enough. Not hardly. Crushing her lips against his
again, she tried to swallow his tongue as it searched her mouth. They fell to
their knees. She slipped a hand inside his shirt and massaged his rippling
chest muscles.

Clint cupped a
breast. She moaned softly. Quickly, together, they unbuttoned her blouse,
giving him more access. Her bra fell away, an easy victim before their quest.

“My god, you’re
beautiful. Your breasts are so exquisite,” he whispered, cupping one in each
hand and tapping the nipples with his thumbs.

His words
enthralled her. His caresses sent a jolt of fire straight to her loins. “Not
too small? Most guys seem to prefer big tits.”

“Perfection,” he
murmured, lowering his head.

She looked down to
watch him surround her nipple, then felt a jolt of electricity as he began to
suckle. Her hands ruffled his thick black hair while she muttered
unintelligible sounds. Her body was no longer her own. There was only an urgent
demand for fulfillment. Her pussy throbbed with need. Her panties were already
sticky from her juices.

Cascading her hair over
her face as if attempting to hide would make things easier, Cassie let her
thumbs pop open the buttons holding her jeans together. Determinedly, she
pulled the zipper down. She stood and he helped her step out of boots, jeans
and panties.

He remained
kneeling before her. His gasp thrilled her. Only dimly could she see him
through the fall of her hair, but she felt his ragged breath as he covered her
mound. His fingers explored her heat. Would her rubbery legs give way? She
leaned into him for support.

His tongue grazed
her clit. Her hips swayed under the onslaught. Her fingers tightened around his
head. His fingers, his tongue drove her to the brink. She rose on her toes and
arched against him driving his fingers and tongue deeper.

“I’m coming,” she
squealed. “Oh god, yes.”

And then her juices
spilled over. His mouth covered her. She felt him swallowing and purred his
name softly. Her muscles seemed like just so much loose powder.

Keeping his mouth
in place, coaxing even more from her, he clasped her torso with both arms, or
she would have certainly fallen.

She smoldered,
savoring his touch, his strength, and his protective instincts. Shattered, but
not lifeless, Cassie gradually came back to him. She traced his neck cord with
her tongue silently thanking him.

“You are something
else, Cassidy O’Hanlon,” Clint groaned, his voice laced with awe.

She chuckled. “Me? You’re
the one who made me fly among the stars. This horse stall may not be the most
romantic setting one could imagine, but it seems to be doing just fine.”

“Uh huh. More than
fine.”

“I do believe there
is some unfinished business though,” Cassie said, smiling as seductively as she
could. “We need to set you free,” she whispered, unbuckling his belt.

- o -

Gently, Clint laid
the beautiful trainer from Chicago on the thick straw-covered floor. He took
his time admiring her trim body. He’d been right. Her breasts were perfection,
large enough to fill a hand yet small enough to fit into his mouth. Her bare
pussy was one of the tiniest he’d ever seen. Its swollen lips remained wide
open from his tonguing. Its redness and scent attested to Cassie’s recent
orgasm and her anticipation of more. He gripped his cock and grinned a devious
smile. “I’m sure you’re used to a bit more luxury than this, but this will have
to do. There’s no time for waiting now.”

“No, this will do. I’ll
probably have red blotches tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow and this is now. No
more waiting, please. Hurry. I need that big thing you’re holding in me. Protection?”