Cowboy at Midnight. Ann Major
ridiculous. Your heart wouldn’t break.”
“Darlin’, you misjudge me.”
The bar was filling up fast. Voices and laughter buzzed around them. A dozen couples joined them on the dance floor. She thought of her empty apartment, of going home alone, of her memories attacking her, when she could have this gorgeous man all to herself.
It had been eight years since the accident. Eight long years since she’d slept with anyone. Not that she’d ever even considered bedding any man this fast. She barely knew Steve, and yet she wanted him so badly she hurt.
This couldn’t just be sex, but if it wasn’t, somebody would get hurt. Probably him, because she was damaged.
Lexie was dead, and it was her fault.
If I could cause something that terrible, I don’t deserve him or even a shred of happiness ever again. Guilt crept over her. How could she forget, even for one night, what her careless, wild behavior had cost?
“What are you so afraid of?” he muttered, ripping at the studs so that his shirt came apart and he stood before her with his hard tanned torso partially exposed. “Touch me. Put your hands on me. I need to feel them on my naked skin.”
When still she hesitated, he grabbed her hands and placed them on his chest, on the coarse black hair. Then he began moving them across his hard body until she broke free and clasped him to her around the waist.
He felt as hot as fire, as unyielding as granite.
“I…I don’t think we should,” she whispered softly, barely able to breathe.
“You think too much.”
His voice was anguished rather than angry. She felt his pain. Touching him made her want more, too. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she stood on her tiptoes and moved her arms upward until they circled his neck. With lightning quickness she pulled his face down to hers eagerly and kissed him on the mouth lingeringly. In the next instant he hauled her higher against him, crushing her breasts into his naked chest and her hips against his fully aroused male hardness. If her heart beat wildly against his chest, she felt his pulse thudding even faster than hers.
Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she was aware of his muscles straining on her arms and waist. Then she realized he was half dragging, half carrying her on her tiptoes across the dance floor to the darkest corner in the bar. Once there he pushed her against a wall as if she were no more than a doll and pressed his body into hers.
Again she knew the sweet, dark heat of his mouth as he pleasured her with more kisses, each one more passionate than the last. He was soon rasping deeply between every breath like a hard-run athlete. Nobody had ever kissed her half as greedily. Powerless, she kissed him back, caught in the storm of her own needs. She felt unleashed after years and years of restraint.
Was it him? Was he special? All she knew was that she wanted him. She wanted him so much she couldn’t bear the thought of not having him.
One night. Only one night. A birthday present to myself. Then never again.
With a little moan she parted her lips, and his tongue slid inside. Soon his swollen manhood was a growing pressure against her abdomen. He was huge and tall, and when he held her ever more tightly, she felt her body quiver.
“I want you. I want you more than I ever believed it was possible to want a man.”
And you don’t even know my real name.
His hands moved over her breasts, and she let him touch her wherever he wanted, her breasts, her buttocks, until she lost all sense of place and time.
“I want you,” she repeated.
“You’re so beautiful, darlin’. So damned beautiful.” He rocked his hips into hers. Arching into him, she felt dizzy and on fire, drunk with the need for more of him.
Suddenly, as abruptly as he’d enticed her, he withdrew, pushing her away, spinning on the tall heels of his black boots and stomping five feet away from her. Quickly he buttoned his shirt and stuffed his shirttail into his jeans. He combed back his hair with quick, rough fingers.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, aching for more kisses as she watched his shaking hand sweep rapidly through his dark hair.
“Pass or fail?” he muttered savagely.
“What?”
“We can’t do this here in front of—”
“You’re right, of course,” she agreed, shamed to the core.
“I own this place,” he said.
“You do?”
“All those guys in the white aprons drilling holes in our backs work for me.”
“What?”
“I’m done putting on a show for my employees. Besides, if I kiss you, or even so much as touch you again, I don’t know what I might be capable of.” His dark eyes flashed.
“Then we’d better go,” she said, giggling with delight and excitement.
“Pass or fail?” he muttered brusquely.
“How can you ask a dumb question like that when my heart’s racing?”
“That’s a yes, I take it.”
She laughed. “If you don’t know that by now, you’re not too smart, cowboy. I can barely breathe much less stand.”
She slid up beside him, stood on her tiptoes and grabbed his hat, which she put on her own head. Holding the brim, she raced for the exit sign, laughing at him still.
Rasa yelled, “Way to go, Amy.” But all Amy focused on was Steve’s heavy strides quickening behind her.
She was making a spectacle of herself and of him, and she didn’t care. For the first time in years she felt almost her old, young, carefree self—wild and alive and real, free and young and happy.
She didn’t deserve real happiness. She knew that. Just as she knew it wouldn’t last.
In the morning, this would all be a dream…like it never happened, she promised herself, the demons and Lexie.
She was damaged. The only way to protect her birthday lover would be to leave him.
Outside, hidden in the dark shadows caused by the lush plantings and the wide overhang of the roofline of the Shiny Pony, which was an old Victorian building doing time as a trendy bar, she watched three drunk men shouting at each other in the early-summer heat. She waited until Steve dashed outside and caught up with her.
Sixth Street was iffy at this hour. A woman alone might be okay wandering the streets back to her car. But then again, she might run into an unwanted admirer or several unwanted admirers. Years ago when she and Lexie had sneaked out together to roam the street, they’d been separated. Amy had found herself in a dark alley and had nearly been raped by two young drunks. But Lexie had found them and pounded Amy’s attackers in the head with her bag. When that hadn’t worked, she’d sprayed them with pepper spray, causing them to run.
The memory made Amy wary. A woman had to be careful. She took off his Stetson and handed it to him. Watching her thoughtfully, he took it and placed it on his head.
“Why the frown?” He touched her elbow, and she jumped back.
“What if I’m not ready to go to your hotel room yet? What if I want to talk?”
He sucked in a breath. “Okay. Where?”
With his brilliantly lit eyes on her, she felt self-conscious all over again. “Over there maybe. The Lonesome Saloon.”
Now it was his turn to look wary. His handsome face darkened. “I have a better idea,” he said rather edgily. “I’ll walk you to your car, and I’ll follow you in my truck to the Hyatt. We can have a drink at their bar or walk on the jogging path