Hugh's Chase Page 15

  How could she argue? She’d wanted him in a very bad, but also a very good way. “Believe what you wish.” She sniffed loudly and walked ahead of him, knowing he watched her closely. She put an extra amount of shake in her sashay just for show.

  “Face the facts, Violet. You nearly jumped my bones back at the restaurant. Good thing I got us the hell out of there or we'd be sitting in a jail cell for indecent exposure.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Keefer. It makes you look very ugly.” Liar! As angry as she was, she still thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. Her attention automatically drifted to his calloused hands that could offer lots of pleasure for her sensitive flesh. Even with the ego that stretched for miles, he could still make her libido hum a melody. Maybe it had something to do with his bad-ass quality. The deep, white scar on his left cheek made him look dangerous. A good girl always liked a challenge, however, she was far from being a 'good' girl.

  “And like your snooty attitude makes you look any better.” He snorted. "I do believe the witch forgot her broomstick."

  She stopped and jabbed her finger into the middle of his chest. “I might be a witch, but I have good reason. You try walking a mile on gravel in these heels and then we'll see how you feel! Until then, stick your opinion where the sun doesn't sh—”

  He pressed his finger against her lips. "Let's not make things worse. Okay, darlin'? The sexual attraction is already off the charts and your anger only gets me hotter." She swallowed loudly. Holy mother of all that is real. “I know this isn’t the most romantic date, but we could make the best of what we’ve been dealt. It’s a nice evening and no threat of rain.” His pale blue eyes seemed to nuke her bloodstream like a powerful narcotic.

  “These aren’t walking shoes.” She dangled her heels from her finger, giving them a quick shake. “I know that you probably want to come back with some poke about women wearing heels, but please save your breath. I’m tired and I have to be back at the hospital tomorrow for a double shift. So forgive me if it’s hard to find the rainbow on this road tucked in the middle of nothing.”

  Keefer pulled out his cell from his pocket, held it up high and moved it through the air. “Damn network!” he growled.

  “It didn’t work the last five times so what makes you think it’ll be any different now?”

  “Maybe your phone would have had service, but, oh yeah, that’s right, you forgot to charge it.” The sarcasm in his voice made her spine stiffen. She left him standing.

  “Okay, I’ll take the blame for my phone going dead and the fact that I should have never agreed to a second date with you.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait! What?”

  Violet turned to look at him. “You heard me. I shouldn’t have agreed to the second date.”

  He chuckled. “This should be interesting. Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Because you and I…well…we don’t have a lot in common.” She tried her best to keep the tone of her voice indifferent. He didn’t need to know that she’d counted down the seconds before he’d pulled into Stone Hedge Ranch to pick her up. At the restaurant, his dashing blue eyes and beguiling smile had made her giddy. His strapping, line-backer shoulders and the spectacular way his Wranglers fit his tight, bull-riding ass made her full of desire. He’d made reservations at a five-star restaurant and they’d walked in together, her arm tucked in his elbow. He’d surprised her when he’d asked her to dance before they’d even ordered and things heated up like the fourth of July. There was no denying that she’d wanted to explore him, inch-by-tough-man-inch. So when he’d asked if she wanted to get out of the restaurant, she’d eagerly said, “Yes.”

  And that’s what landed them thirty miles out of the city on some godforsaken country road where the only speck of life was a frog that had hopped by some twenty minutes ago. What man takes a woman in the country and gets her stuck? Hell, what sort of woman gets into a truck with a practical stranger and lets him take her on that so-called country drive?

  What had come over her? Her sisters Ruby, Sapphire and Crystal would shake her by the tail feather if they knew what she’d done. They were always telling her to be careful, think ahead, and the biggest, keep her phone charged. For goodness sakes, she’d failed on all counts. She groaned. She was capable of handling herself. She wasn’t a child, no matter how much they treated her like one. Even being out on a secluded road with a cowboy who looked like he could carry the world on his shoulders she knew she’d be okay. Working as an emergency room nurse, she’d gotten pretty good at warding off drunken brutes and hostile patients. However, Keefer wasn’t neither of those. In fact, he’d been a perfect gentleman since he picked her up for the date. And he hadn’t been wrong about her touching him once they’d left the restaurant. The cowboy could kiss, and boy did he have a body. She should have never danced three songs with him—slow, romantic songs—because suddenly she’d grown sticky fingers and couldn’t keep her hands off him. What was it about the singer John Vesely’s voice that could make a woman melt into a man’s arms? Warm, muscular arms. She dared a peek at Keefer. His shirtsleeves were rolled up high.

  “So when did you figure this out? That we shouldn’t have gone out on a second date. During the dance when you whispered that you wanted me? Or when you practically pushed your hand down my pants?”

  Her mouth fell open and she quickly snapped it shut. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, did I not speak English?” He brushed past her.

  She had to hurry to catch up with him. “Is that really how you see things? First, I didn’t whisper that I wanted you! I said that I wanted to leave after you suggested that we should!”

  He laughed. “And that’s not the same thing?”

  Violet opened her mouth to argue, but what could she say? At that heated moment on the dance floor, she’d wanted to leave so they could—she shook the thought right from her head. “I didn’t have my hand down your pants!”

  “That’s why I said ‘practically’. If it wasn’t for my jeans, we’d found out just what connection we have between us.” He snorted. “And how the hell do you know if we have anything in common. The first night we went out we talked until the waitress kicked us out. What was that?”

  She was beside him now. “Fine, I’ll tell you why I shouldn’t have said yes. You are on a one way track into danger every time you walk into the arena to ride a bull. I help heal people. I can’t stand to see people live dangerously, regardless how precious life is.” Lifting one shoulder, she let it slump. “Well, I could never be with an adrenaline junkie.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart.” He gave her a quick glance. “You’re a nurse because you like the adrenaline rush. Can you deny it?”

  Wow…he was right. “But I’m not putting my life on the line. What can you offer long-term?”

  “I asked for a dinner date, not marriage.”

  She moistened her lips and placed her hands on her hips. Her shoes banged against one thigh “And I couldn’t be with a cowboy. I grew up around them and they’re just not—”

  “Rich enough? Refined enough?” His jaw hardened.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” He flicked up a thick brow in accusation. “I meant, available. Work is their number one priority.”

  “And how many cowboys have you dated?”

  “None.”

  “Then how can you lump us all together?”

  “I grew up with them around all of my life. My sisters and I were out on the land more than we were in the house and many of the hands became like brothers. I also saw all of the arguments they got into with their spouses over time management and priorities. My mom and dad even had a few of those spats.”

  “You can’t use that as a gauge unless it happened to you specifically,” he huffed. “Any other reasons in that stubborn head of yours why we shouldn’t date?”

  “I do have the right to my own opinion, you know.”

  “Or you just don’t have a val
id answer so you’ll change the subject.” He shrugged. “No worries. I wouldn’t have asked for a third date even if things had gone great, so you’re safe with that crazy opinion of yours.”

  She thought he was joking, but his expression remained serious. “Well, it sure seems like you’re trying to talk me into a third date.”

  “We probably are too different to be a match.”

  “You’re just saying that because that’s what I proposed.”

  “No, I made my mind up the second you almost fell on your ass a half mile back and then called me a jerk,” he said.

  “I said that under my breath.”

  “And that makes it less offensive?”

  The man never ceased to irk her. “That was when I thought that maybe you brought me all the way out here to take advantage of me.”

  “So you think I’d go to the trouble of driving over an hour from home with some sappy story of stars and a clear night sky just to go to bed with you?” He laughed hard his face turned red as he smacked his hand against his thigh. She didn’t find any of this humorous. “I’ve heard it all now.” He dragged off his hat and ran his hand through his thick, black hair.

  He was making fun of her and she didn’t like it, not one bit. “You’ve never lied or came up with some clever ruse to get a woman into bed?”

  He scrubbed his jaw, not looking so confident now. He mashed his hat back on his head. “I’ve never had to lie, darlin’.”

  “Yeah…right.”

  “Don’t start believing for a second that I’d have gone out of my way with a trick to get you, lady. Fact is, I wouldn’t have to come up with a trick.”

  “Are you insinuating something?”

  “I’m saying that you were all but squirming with need, wanting things to go to the next level. I could nearly smell the desire. Thankfully, I brought us out here, otherwise I think you’d be singing an entirely different tune right now—maybe screaming my name. One of us needed to keep things in perspective and manage the heat.”

  Now she laughed. “Seriously? You’re trying to tell me you didn’t have one intention of sleeping with me tonight?”

  “Yes, I can’t deny I wanted to sleep with you, but I wanted to come out here to—”

  “To what?”

  He shrugged. “See the stars, sweetheart.”

  Her chest tightened. Why did secret parts of her throb? She hated the way her body succumbed to him. “How romantic it’s turned out to be. Take me on a trip just to screw me in your truck. Your rodeo bunnies might like that treatment, but I do not!” She marched down the road, hearing his boots pounding the road and kicking up pebbles.

  “You’re a real treat, Violet. You were so hot at the restaurant that I thought you’d set the place on fire, and now you’re making out like I had some secret goal to take advantage of you? Either you don’t get out much or you think way too highly of yourself. I’m leaning toward both at this point.”

  “I get out plenty, thank you!” she snapped.

  His smirk jumped right through her skin. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.” She stomped faster on the road, not caring that the small rocks poked at her bare feet. “I think we should just stop talking. Agree to disagree. Otherwise we’re going to be out on this road until morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Because you think we should stop talking then by all means, let’s stay quiet. Whatever the princess wants.”

  “I’m not going to let you get a rise out of me.”

  “Too bad I can’t say the same.” The latent meaning to his words and the twinkle in his eye did magical things to her nerve endings.

  Violet continued ahead until a sharp pain radiated through her foot. “Ouch!” She stopped, immediately realizing she’d stepped on something, more than a pebble.

  “Wow…so you don’t like to be called princess, huh?”

  “It’s not that, you oaf! I have something in my foot.” She favored her wounded foot, keeping it from touching the ground and balancing on her toes.

  “Who had the bright idea to take her shoes off?”

  She hopped to the side of the road and into a patch of thick grass, afraid to sit down because who knew what crawled through the weeds. If she made it through the night she’d be one lucky lady. “Yeah, because it would have been better if I’d broken an ankle. Explain how I’d get around at work, taking care of others when I can’t walk?”

  “Wait.” He strolled to her, bending at his knees, looking up at her. “Hold on to my shoulder so you don’t fall.” She did as requested while he examined her foot closer. “You’re bleeding.”

  “What?”

  The creases around his eyes deepened. Was he actually concerned? “The blood is dripping.”

  “That means there’s something still in the cut.” She wiggled her foot, attempting to see the damage for herself.

  “Have a seat. I’ll take a closer look.”

  “I-I’m afraid to sit. I do have a skirt on.” It only took him a second to understand. He stood up, holding her arm, and started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. Her breath caught. “What are you doing? Nothing has changed between us.”

  “Again, that ego is growing a devil’s head.” Once the last button was undone, he dragged the cotton material from his shoulders, letting go of her long enough to slide it off his arm, and shook it out like a matador to a bull. She automatically skimmed his broad shoulders, wide chest, and the trail of dark crisp hair from his navel disappearing into the low waist of his jeans. Breathing became very difficult and her heart took on a faster pace. Why did he have to look so good without a shirt? She’d never seen a better set of abs or obliques. Or biceps. And the scars that were proof he’d been thrown a few times in the arena.

  A breeze swept across them and she got an overwhelming whiff of man—spice, leather and sweat. She imagined that was how he’d smell if they were stripped and going at it like—

  “Don’t fall. I’m letting go.” He brushed around her, spreading his shirt in the patch of grass. “There you are, princess.”

  Biting off a four letter name that wasn’t jerk this time, his kindness taking off some of the edge, she eased down onto the make-shift blanket. She clutched the soft material, a desire to lift it to her nose swarming her insides, and she immediately scorned her misbehaving thoughts. His warm gaze settled on her legs and she swallowed hard as her skirt shimmied up her thighs. She tugged at the stubborn hem, jerking it down as far as the cotton/spandex would allow. One corner of his lips curled into a mischievous smile. Being hurt didn’t mean she could ignore modesty.

  A low sound came from him. A groan maybe?

  She closed her eyes, gaining her internal balance, but only to have her axis tilted again when his calloused touch came at her ankle. She jerked open her eyes, a squeal falling off her lips. He smiled bigger—in a way that she knew he realized what he did to her. The cowboy didn’t need his giant ego boosted. He probably had every available, and some not, female this side of Texas lining up to get his autograph, and anything else he was giving away. She knew his type all too well. “Be careful.” The words slipped out before she could reel them in.

  “No, worries, sweetheart. I’ll be very gentle.”

  He misunderstood, thankfully.

  She almost choked on her saliva. Yeah, she’d bet her eyeteeth that he’d be anything but gentle and that only made her inner thighs tremble like a shack in an earthquake. Her last lover liked the missionary position, nothing but, and his endurance in running marathons didn’t show up in bed. She ached for a man who wasn’t afraid to show her what he liked, to heat up the sheets, and tell her what he needed. She wasn’t talking kink—just a man who wasn’t bashful when it came to matters of lust. In turn, she wanted to trust. The familiar ache in her throat returned. That T word always seemed to spoil things.

  Although she had baggage, she was still a woman who craved a man’s touch, but a relationship, not so much.

  A man who could ride seventeen-hundred p
ounds of bull would have no problem riding her one-hundred twenty pounds. Realizing she was smiling, she met Keefer’s gaze. Nope. Not going to happen no matter how much her body disagreed. “Let’s just get this over with,” she muttered.

  His fingers moved across her sensitive flesh effortlessly, igniting sensations underneath her skin with his long, wide fingers and rough palms. She watched his hands move, gliding, striking up her nerve endings. His skin tone made her look pale. Examining his fingernails, she’d expected them to be dirty and ragged, but surprisingly, they were a nice square shape and not a speck of dirt under any of them. An image of those fingers touching her in secret places made her panties wet and her clit pulsate in urgency. Yeah, this was dangerous. Six months without sex made her a raging libido.

  He lifted her leg higher and another yelp slipped from her. The temperature picked up by ten degrees and her skin became slick under his touch. They could have a quickie, right here alongside the quiet road, and no one would know. It’d only take a tug of his buckle, a slide of her skirt and—

  “What are you smiling about?” The corners of his eyes crinkled.

  “I’m smiling?” Now her facial expressions were out of control.

  “Yeah, you are.” He reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone and clicked on the light, using it to inspect the wound. "Looks like a piece of glass. Hard to tell how big with all of the blood.”

  Dragging her brain onto something other than his tight, solid muscles and deft hands, she remembered she had makeup removers in her purse. “Here. I have something.” She reached inside, took out the mini packet of cloths and handed one to him. “These should help to clean the area. Hold the cloth against the cut firmly for a minute and the bleeding should stop.”

  “Won’t it hurt?”

  “Probably a little. You’re not a wienie when it comes to blood, are you?”

  “My own, no.” He did as she asked. A pain shot through her heel and she involuntarily jerked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”