Authors: Jade Allen
****
Later that night, Leila climbed onto the stage at
the fair organized for cowboys in the rodeo and sang her heart out. She was
wearing a sheath leopard skin gown that accentuated her curves and clung to her
so tightly it seemed she had been poured into it. She also had a very large
sunhat perched atop her head that added to her air of mystery and made her feel
even sexier than ever.
Her voice was a lilting soprano as she crooned,
tantalizing everyone and drawing them in. She sang about unrequited love and
loss of innocence and betrayal in such haunting tunes that by the time she was
finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Her gaze met Jason’s once across
the crowded room, but she simply looked through him as though he didn’t exist.
She bowed low, accepting the praises and whistles
from the gathered crowd, painfully aware that in a corner of the room, Jason
sat, silently watching her. His eyes roved languorously over every inch of her
body with such bold intensity it was almost as though he had touched her
physically.
Leila felt a flush work up her cheeks as she pretended
not to notice that her breasts had beaded into hard little points of desire
beneath the thin lace of her bra.
So that was what she meant when she said she
was going to ‘perform’ to make up for broken furniture
, Jason realized as
he watched her drink in the adulation of the excited crowd. She was a country
singer, and a damned good one!
His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he
watched her accepting praises from several patrons at the bar. She was the most
beautiful woman he had ever met, he decided trying to ignore a surprising stab
of jealousy as he watched her grin at a gap-toothed octogenarian. Heck, the man
was old enough to be her great-grandfather and here he was, wanting to knock
the old man’s teeth out for smiling at Leila.
He had fallen for her, he realized. It didn’t even
make sense since he hadn’t gotten to know a lot about her, but he felt strongly
attached to her. Before he was even aware of moving, he was standing in her
path.
He saw her green eyes narrow with a flash of
intense hatred and he knew genuine sorrow.
“You sing very well,” he said. “You have an
amazing voice.”
Leila didn’t say anything, just regarded him in
wary silence.
What more does this jackass want from me?
she wondered.
“I’m sorry,” he got out before she could escape
him. “I’m a monster. I feel sick about this situation, and I haven’t eaten in
days. I’m so sorry I hurt you, Leila.”
Cold anger darkened her eyes and he realized he
was digging his hole deeper.
“Leila—” he began.
Without a word, she yanked her arm from his grasp
and melted into the crowd.
Jason bowed his head in defeat, but this time, he
didn’t try to stop her. He let her go.
The fair had opened up into a party of sorts with
dancing and drinking going on. Rock and rolled strummed from the speakers as different
cowboys shuffled with their partners on the dance floor.
Jason sipped his beer, sitting in a corner of the
room as his eyes scanned the crowd for signs of Leila’s leopard skin dress.
He heard a throaty laughter and looked in that
direction; Leila was being twirled about by one brawny cowboy with his hat
pulled low over his forehead as he dimpled down at her.
They look so perfect
together
, he thought feeling something suspiciously like jealousy eat away
at his insides.
He watched as Leila’s laughter turned into girly
giggles as the wonder-cowboy bent her backwards over his strong arm. Impatience
strummed along Jason’s veins and in a flash, he was beside the laughing couple.
His heart constricted in his chest as he watched Leila’s happy smile dry on her
face as she caught sight of him.
“Mind if I cut in?” he said gruffly, his eyes
daring the other man to challenge him.
“As a matter of fact I do!” Leila spat.
Jason grinned at her. “I was talking to the man
darlin’. Jesse?” he asked.
Jesse Catalona grinned and quickly released Leila
into Jason’s arms.
“That’s not even remotely funny,” she growled.
“Tell me about it. How did you manage to keep your
toes intact? Catalona is notorious for having two left feet!”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her eyes
flashing fire at him as she stiffened in his arms. “I like Jesse!”
“As do half the gay men in Texas! He’s gay,” Jason
lied baldly.
He watched the confused expressions play across
Leila’s features and he hid a grin. Jesse, who also happened to be a good friend
of his, would skin him alive if this got back to him. Jesse was straight, and
unless Jason missed his guess, was as interested in Leila as he was.
“You have an amazing voice,” he told her softly.
“Thanks,” she muttered, ducking her head as she
hid a blush. Her eyes sparkled at him, lively and vibrant.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.
His head descended slowly and his mouth melded
with hers. Passion sparked immediately and with a groan that was part-triumph,
part-longing; Jason deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked hers, sending shivers
of excitement down her spine, and without thinking, Leila arched into him, her
breasts shoving against the hard wall of his chest.
Jason’s hands tightened around Leila’s waist and
the feel of his wide palm caressing her ass drew her back to Earth with a thud.
She jerked out of his arms and glared at him as she furiously rubbed the back
of her hand across her lips.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she spat, her eyes
glittering angrily at him.
She spun around, and for the second time that
night, melted into the crowd.
****
Leila whistled to herself as she strolled towards
her new hotel after the rodeo activities two days later. Jason had performed so
badly again that some people had actually accused him of deliberately throwing
the match. She had learned so much about the cowboys just sitting in the stands
and her ears were still ringing with tales of his sexual conquests, financial
triumphs and saddle skills. Evidently, he had been a playboy extraordinaire for
years and no one was surprised to see him with two women at a time. He was even
more popular in cowboy circles because he was a bronc-riding champion ten years
in a row.
Well, what most of those people didn’t know was
that he was a jerk and a heartless libertine. She had learned that lesson
firsthand. He’d been sending a dozen roses to her place of work every day for
the last two days. She had blushed mightily when the first set was delivered,
drawing whistles and calls from everyone in the bar. But the second night, one
look at the roses and she had stolen outside to weep silently, her anguish
rocking her body. She loved him, she knew; but that also meant he had the power
to hurt her.
A prickling sensation at the back of her neck made
her pause in her strides but when she turned around, the hallway was empty. She
needed to freshen up quickly and rush downstairs to perform. Being a country
singer certainly had its perks—for instance, it put food on her table—but when
she was depressed, singing was the last thing she wanted to do. She just wanted
to curl up in a ball and sob her heart out.
“Sobbing doesn’t pay the bills, honey,” she
murmured to herself as she hurriedly shrugged out of her tattered jeans and
tee-shirt and slipped into a slinky black dress that hugged her body like a
second skin and heavily pronounced all her curves.
Leila bit her lips as she turned this way and that
in front of the mirror. It was a decent enough dress, but was it too revealing?
A harsh knock sounded at the door and she rolled
her eyes. The manager at this hotel was a royal pain in the ass, and he seemed
to think that she was supposed to be the very first person to arrive for the
performance.
“Leila,” the unsmiling man on the other side
breathed the moment she opened the door.
“Jason! How the hell did you find me?” she grated,
her heart clutching painfully in her chest as she glared at him.
Was it her imagination, or was he somewhat thinner
than she remembered?
“I just wanted to explain what happened. It was a
misunderstanding, nothing more.”
Leila glared back at him, “Good for you. Now get
out!”
“I didn’t forget that night. I knew something good
and profound had happened I was just fuzzy on the details.”
Just like that, her anger returned. Her eyes
glittered at him as she pouted, “You couldn’t remember we slept together! It’s
in the past. No need to rehash that now.”
She turned her head away, waiting for him to walk
out of the room and out of her life. She wasn’t going to give him the
satisfaction of seeing the tears glistening in her eyes.
“What I mean is, I took a lot of booze and then
you must have given me aspirin at some point—”
“I gave you aspirin for the bump on your head,”
she said defensively, leaning back to put some much-needed space between them.
“Now you’re going to hold onto that?”
His turquoise gaze slanted over her smooth
features, her sad eyes, her pouty mouth and he felt his heart tighten in his
chest.
“Give me another chance Leila,” he said softly.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. That was the first
night I slept peacefully without any nightmares.”
Leila chewed at her lips. He looked honest enough
that she wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t let go of something that was
eating away at her.
“Who the hell is
Fiona
?”
Unbearable sadness crossed his features, and then
he said, “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this somewhere else? Like over
lunch?”
“No. Here!” she insisted with childish petulance.
He grinned. She was as cute as a button.
“Fiona was my wife who ran off with my best friend
and got killed in a freak accident as they drove off.” He waited to feel the
familiar pain in his chest, but all he felt was just a hollow sadness at two
lives wasted and nothing more. No bitterness; nothing.
He looked at her, “I was bitter for a long while.
Hell, I was bitter until I met
you
. But somehow you healed me. You are
good, pure, smart, funny and sexy as hell.”
Leila blushed. “Oh stop. I’m fat.”
“You’ve got a body that could tempt a eunuch and
make a monk stare; and I love you just the way you are. You are the sexiest,
most beautiful woman alive.”
Leila stared into his eyes; sincerity blazed back
at her.
He loves me? How?
Jason seemed to read her mind because he said
softly, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Is it any wonder
that I love you?”
Leila’s reservations melted away, as she leaned
into him and lifted her face for his kiss.
That was all the encouragement Jason needed. With
a rough hungry sound, he tumbled her onto the bed and rolled her onto her back,
easily fitting his slender hips between her legs. Leila inhaled sharply at the
feel of his hard masculine length against her. Their hands jointly made quick
work of their clothes and they were naked in each other’s arms in record time.
Then she instinctively pushed her breasts into his
face, wanting to feel that exquisite sucking he did so well. Jason obliged
immediately, his lips licking and flicking over her nipple.
Frenzied need pulsed through Leila as Jason’s
callused palms caressed every inch of her satiny skin in a mixture of wonder
and desire. She writhed against him as craving roared through her before
pooling in her moist center.
Leila cradled his head, holding him tighter
against her breasts as she pleaded, “Fuck me now, Jason!”
That was all the encouragement Jason needed as he
thrust into her in one sure masterful stroke that joined them perfectly and
sheathed him to the hilt.
“I love you,” he murmured, his blue eyes clashing
with her green ones.
Leila grinned at him, her heart bursting with
happiness as she said the words he longed to hear, “I love you too, Jason.
Always and forever.”
THE END
Brooke Jordan swore softly as she stubbed her toe
against a loose piece of rock lying beside her car. This was an assignment from
hell and if she hadn’t talked smart to her boss last week, she knew she
wouldn’t now be traipsing through some backwater ranch in six-inch heels and
city clothes that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the vast collection of
jeans, cowboy hats and boots milling around.
She couldn’t help it though; Henry Collins rubbed
her the wrong way. He was the new editor-in-chief at
De Luxe Magazine
and he seemed to think he was God’s gift to women. If the rumors were true, he
had already slept his way through half the bullpen staff in less than two weeks
which was quite a feat when one considered that there had to be at least thirty
women in the bullpen of the large office in New York.
He had never made any overture to her--which was
too damn bad because she would have slammed him with a sexual harassment suit
so fast it would make his ancestors dizzy--but he had shown a decided penchant
for verbally filleting her in front of her colleagues instead. She had borne
his unfair put-downs as long as she could until one day when she had decided
she’d had enough; she informed him, in full view of everyone, that she thought
he was a ‘chauvinistic Neanderthal who didn’t have the good taste to appreciate
talent.’
Henry had been cool to the point of being almost
arctic when he had calmly informed her that she had just bought herself two
weeks on a farm as appreciation of all her ‘talent’. She had called his bluff
and now here she was! She was supposed to interview Tyler Harding and also
stick close to the man for a minimum of two weeks to make certain she had
gotten enough materials to complete the article
De Luxe Magazine
was
doing on “Twenty Rich and Famous Bachelors of 2015”.
Brooke whistled now, low and long under her breath
as she took in the opulence of her surroundings. She had known Tyler Harding
was one of the few billionaires around but she hadn’t really appreciated how
rich he was until she was looking at the evidence of his wealth up close and
personal. The ‘ranch’ had to be the size of at least 50 golf courses with a
huge sprawling mansion sitting at the end of the drive. Tyler was the debonair
head of the ‘Oil Hardings’, a family known for owning just about half of Texas.
They were so wealthy, it was rumored their wealth rivaled that of one-third of
the world’s countries put together. Orchids and some very expensive looking
flowers lined the driveway, circled the fountain and ended up inches from the
door.
Wealth screamed from every inch of the mansion and
the surrounding premises; cowboys strode in and out of out-buildings which she
assumed were stables or something.
“Mr. Harding?” she said, grabbing the arm of one
surly-looking cowboy as he strode past her.
“Best check the stables,” he grunted shortly
before continuing on his way.
Brooke blinked. He hadn’t even exchanged
pleasantries; so much for Southern hospitality, she thought. She pursed her
lips as she walked. At five-eight she was considered tall for a lady. She had
ash-blonde hair that someone once said made her look like a porcelain doll with
large green eyes and full red lips. She was beautiful, with an hour-glass
figure that made her the recipient of many a male's attention--like now. But
perhaps she should not have worn the six inch heels currently digging into
every inch of loamy soil spread around the stables.
As she traipsed towards the stables, trying
valiantly to walk in heels that kept digging into the soil beneath her feet, a
little yip drew her attention to the animal racing towards her and she did a
double-take. Was that a wolf?
Horror skittered down her spine as she turned and
ran the rest of the way into the stables, shrieking like a banshee from hell.
She saw two men raise their heads in surprise to look up at her and, without
stopping to think about it, Brooke flung herself straight into the arms of the
taller man and wound her legs around his hips, safely out of reach of the
animal.
“Who the hell are you?” the shorter man grated.
“It’s alright, Roy. It’s not every day a beautiful
woman climbs right up my legs and into my arms,” the other man laughed
good-naturedly.
Brooke didn’t have time to be embarrassed; she
clung tighter to him, plastering her breasts against his chest as her eyes
fearfully flew over her shoulders to the wolf. It wasn’t snarling anymore
though, instead it was rubbing up against the legs of her ‘savior’ and almost
purring.
What the hell?
“Isn’t that a wolf?” Brooke asked, her voice a
little more than a petrified squeak.
The man chuckled as he gently unwound her long
legs from around his narrow hips and urged her to her feet, “Shelby would be flattered.
She’s a dog, not a wolf. She’s also a bully though; she sensed your fear which
was why she chased after you.”
Brooke stared disbelievingly as the tall man
stooped down to caress Shelby. She shifted, keeping as far out of reach of all
that fur as she could. The ‘dog’ had to be at least part-wolf!
“I need to find Mr. Harding,” Brooke said.
“You've found him already, ma'am” the man quipped,
looking over his shoulder and blasting her with the full force of his
languorous dark eyes.
Brooke stared, her heart skipping a beat as she
got her first good look at the man Collins had described as an ornery and
eccentric oil tycoon. He had to be the most handsome man this side of the sun!
He had a strong chiseled jaw, sexily tousled black hair, intense black eyes and
sex appeal out the wazoo. If that wasn’t enough, he also happened to have deep
slashing dimples in either cheek, so prominent they were on display whenever he
moved his lips. His skin glistened with sweat from his work in the barn and his
muscles bunched with every movement, revealing hard, sinewy strength, and a
beautifully chiseled stomach. He was insanely hot and more than a little
dangerous to any woman; worse, she suspected he knew it.
She swallowed. Dear lord, how was she supposed to
get through two weeks beside this man?