His Marriage Pact: The Rancher's Marriage Pact / The Rancher's One-Week Wife / Terms of a Texas Marriage. Kathie DeNosky
shops, I decided to go for the masters at a bigger university in Fort Worth.”
“Impressive. Why saddle shops?”
Recounting his history could calm his rowdy libido. “When I was growing up, a ranch hand named Gordy taught me how to tool roping saddles. I used his design, started my own line of saddles and began to market it.”
“Gordy doesn’t have a problem with that?”
“Nope. He’s happily retired living off the royalties.”
“You are a man of many talents, I must say. Do you have any sugar?”
Ignoring the urge to tell her he could give her something really sweet, Dallas nodded toward the cabinet behind her. “Right next to the coffee maker.”
She glanced over one shoulder before sending him another smile. “Oh. I didn’t see it,” she said as she slid out of her chair.
She sure had great legs, he realized, when she walked to the counter to sweeten her coffee. The robe was so short that if she lifted her arms, he felt sure he could see her bottom. He should’ve told her the canister was in an upper cabinet. He’d give a month’s worth of pay to find some excuse for her to bend over. He didn’t have to let go of a dime when she dropped the spoon on the floor and reached down to pick it up.
Damn if she didn’t have on a thing. Damn if she didn’t have one fantastic butt. And damn if he didn’t have the mother of all erections.
She turned around and leaned back against the counter. “What are your plans for the day?”
He could offer up a few that involved staying horizontal for the next twenty-four hours, but remembered his aim to take it easy. “I thought we’d go fishing.”
She sipped her coffee then set the cup aside. “Sounds like fun. When do you want to do it?”
Right now on the kitchen island. “We need to get going before it gets much later, while the fish are still biting.”
“Then I should hurry. What should I wear?”
Not a damn thing. “T-shirt and jeans, I guess. Or shorts. It’s going to be close to eighty degrees today.”
While Dallas sat there suffering from lack of sex, Paris rinsed her cup out in the sink and put it in the dishwasher, unaware of his predicament. “I’ll take a quick shower and be back in a few. Where should I meet you once I’m finished?”
In my bed. Your bed. Any bed. “The dock.”
“The dock it is. Maybe I’ll just show up without my top to save time.”
Taking Dallas totally by surprise, Paris untied the sash at her waist, turned around and let the robe fall from her shoulders onto the floor as she walked away.
The image of her slender back and shapely butt remained burned in his brain long after she disappeared.
Was she just trying to torture him, or give him a taste of his own medicine? He didn’t know the answer, but he sure as hell intended to find out.
* * *
Paris wondered what effect, if any, her little attempt at seduction had had on Dallas. If he only knew how difficult it had been to completely let go of her inhibitions, then maybe he might have said something. When she’d left him in the kitchen, she hadn’t had the fortitude to wait around. He certainly hadn’t sought her out in the shower, or showed up at the bedroom door. Only time would tell what he might have in store for her during their little excursion, and the closer she came to the dock, the more the excitement escalated.
She discovered him waiting for her, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a sleeveless army-green tank, revealing a pair of very masculine legs and muscled biceps that sent her heart on a marathon. A few moments passed before she noticed the sleek silver-and-red boat with the covered hull tied to the side of the pier.
After sliding her sunglasses into place, Paris stepped onto the creaky planks and made her way to her tour guide for the day. “Is this yours?”
“Yep,” he replied.
“How did it get here?”
“George.”
Clearly he’d decided to be cryptic. “Who is George?”
“My neighbor. He looks after the place when I’m not here, and in exchange I let him use the boat. I called and had him deliver it a few minutes ago.”
Evidently George wasn’t going to join them, a very good thing. “I see. I’ve never been on this kind of boat before. It looks like it costs a pretty penny.”
“About eighty grand.”
Paris nearly swallowed the gum she’d been chewing. “Eighty thousand dollars? For that price, it should clean the house, or at least do more than float around the water looking pretty.”
“It can fly,” he said as he held out his hand. “If you’re lucky, I might let you drive it.”
As long as he had sufficient insurance since she’d never been behind the wheel of a boat before. “I might take you up on that, if you’re lucky.”
He cracked a crooked grin. “I have a feeling we could both be lucky today.”
She returned his smile. “Could be.” Or not, depending on how far she wanted the seduction scheme to go.
After Dallas helped Paris down into the space-age looking seat, he untied the boat then claimed the space next to her. One hand on the wheel, he backed away from the dock slowly, said, “Hang on,” then turned the craft around and shot off into open water.
Yes, the thing could fly, and she couldn’t hold a conversation with him due to all the wind noise. She basically clutched the sides of the seats, gritted her teeth and only breathed easier when he navigated the boat into a secluded cove fifteen minutes later.
She pulled away the band securing her high ponytail and finger-combed her hair. “You need to turn around and go back.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I think I left my stomach a few miles back.”
He barked a laugh. “I take it you’re not much of a thrill seeker.”
Only partially true. She’d married him on a moment’s notice, hadn’t she? And she was definitely seeking some thrills today. “I’ve ridden a few roller coasters on several occasions, but I wasn’t quite prepared for this.”
Paris had prepared to turn on the charms and hopefully turn him on in the process. On that note, she crossed her arms, grabbed the T-shirt’s hem and tugged it over her head, leaving her clad in a red bikini top.
Dallas cleared his throat and shut down the ignition. “Didn’t know you had a swimsuit.”
“Actually, I didn’t either,” she said as she stood. “Jenny thought of everything.” Including massage oil and lubricants, a veritable sex shop in a bag.
“No surprise there,” he replied, his voice sounding somewhat grainy.
Paris realized she didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, so she pointed to the enclosed hull. “What’s under there?”
“A live well to keep fresh bait and fish and a place to store equipment.” He climbed over the smoked glass minidash and stood on the decking to toss an anchor overboard into the murky green water. “You basically turn on the trolling motor and stand here to fish, but we’re going to stay stationary until you learn how to cast.”
“Or I could sunbathe,” she said as she retraced his steps and stood before him. “I can do that while we fish, right?”
“Not a whole lot of sun with all the trees, but whatever floats your boat, pun intended.”
She shimmied out of the shorts and tossed them back onto the seat, revealing