That Last Night In Texas

She bathed in the heady delight of his touch, his scent, the nudge of his thighs against her legs. Her body hummed and sizzled, sparked by nothing more than simple contact, and he knew it instantly because he kissed her again, more slowly, more thoroughly this time.

She nestled against him, and when his hands pushed under her thin blouse, cupping her breasts, she almost stopped breathing. He was coaxing her body to life, his eyes speaking volumes of need and want and desire, and Cassie couldn’t help but answer.

Slowly, savoring every murmur and sigh, she let her head fall back. She clutched his dark hair in both hands, bringing his head down. Ethan’s mouth came against the pulse point at her throat, stroking with his tongue, teasing, raking his teeth lightly against her skin until she felt consumed by fire.

She let her fingers trail along his strong back, thinking of all the ways she’d daringly slide her hand down his body the next time they made love. They’d been intimate twice before, but she had been embarrassingly unskilled and nervous. Tomorrow, she would find the courage to be the aggressor.

She adored the weight and shape of him, the coiled strength of his biceps and the taut muscles of his stomach. His fingers were callused, and their texture as they moved over her body made a quick, jittery thrill trip through her.

She wanted more. She wished desperately for it.

But when Ethan’s hand slipped to the top button of Cassie’s jeans, her hand stopped him. She straightened as best she could, and though her body protested the separation, her brain demanded they go no further.

“We can’t,” she whispered against his ear. “We have to leave.”

“You’re early.”

“I’m on time,” she said as she shifted her clothes back into order.

“I hate a clock watcher.”

“You should have thought of that before you proposed.” Ethan’s one failing—at least the only one she’d found so far—was that he was seldom punctual for anything unless it was a direct order from her father. “Still want to marry me?” she asked, smiling up at him and trailing a finger across his bottom lip.

He growled low and brushed his stubbled chin gently against her cheeks, as though branding her. “Yes, I want to marry you. I want to make love to you. I want to make babies with you and watch them grow up to make babies of their own.” He caught her face in his hands so that their eyes met. “Good enough for you, princess?”

“Yes.” She exhaled with a happy sigh. She loved this about him—the secret, tender sincerity beneath the rough, sexy exterior that everyone else saw. She liked to think that she was the only one who knew the real Ethan Rafferty, though the truth was, she’d fallen so quickly, so hopelessly in love that she knew little more about him than the most basic facts.

He talked so seldom about his past. She knew only that he’d walked away from an abusive home when he was eighteen and that his father had been a horse trainer in Kentucky, a great one, but that talent had drowned in buckets of booze.

For three years Ethan had drifted, but the talent with horses that he’d inherited from his father had made him believe he had a future. Someday.

Just who was this man she intended to marry? Was she really willing to walk out of the pampered life she had known, cut herself loose from her youth and the adoring shelter of her father’s love to set her future on this unknown path?

Yes, she thought. It didn’t matter. She knew enough. She knew the essentials of Ethan Rafferty, the shape of his courage, the depth of his heart, that quiet confidence that could make her believe that anything was possible. And it pleased her to think that she’d have an eternity to find out everything else about him.

He had latched on to one of her long, red curls, rubbing it between his fingers as though testing it somehow. He loved playing with her hair. She pulled the lock through his fingers. “Stop that. I want it to look halfway decent tonight.”

His fingers cupped her face. “Decent is much too ordinary a word to describe what I see when I look at you.”

She lowered her head, embarrassed by the way his eyes caressed her.

A slow smile twisted his lips. “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

She had no illusions about her looks. She might be blessed with her father’s dark red hair, but she could never do anything with it thanks to the humidity of East Texas. She had inherited her mother’s ready smile, but her lips lacked that full, pouty look that seemed to make men drool. For a while Cassie had actually prayed to have a perky cheerleader’s nose, but with her Scottish heritage there was little chance of that.

As for the spunky personality she’d longed for to offset her mundane features, it had never developed. The truth was, most of the time she was shy, contemplative and given to playing it safe. Only Ethan seemed to bring out her wilder side, her adventurous spirit. She knew her weaknesses. That he seemed to find her remarkable in any way both delighted and surprised her.

Feeling awkward, she gave him one last kiss and stepped back, suddenly all business. “Enough flattery. You’ve already won me over. Dad’s at Josh’s place, but I don’t know how much longer he’ll be there. We need to get on the road.”

“We should just wait for him,” Ethan said. “Tell him we’re getting married, and we hope we’ll have his blessing, but—”

“Are you insane?” Cassie exclaimed. “We can’t do that.”

He tilted his head as though examining her closely. “Why?”

“Because he’d never give his blessing.”

“Because you’re too young to get married? Or because you want to marry me?”

“Trust me. I know Dad.” She stroked her hand along his arm, hoping to ease the slight trace of hurt she thought she saw in his eyes. “Please, Ethan. Let’s just go.”

He grimaced, then nodded. “I’m almost ready. I’m just leaving a note for Hank to check Cisco in the morning. I think he’s coming down with thrush again, and I want to suggest a new treatment.” When she gave him a look, he waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll only be a minute. Go check out your dad’s new toy. He’s a beauty, and he’ll probably be glad to see a friendly face. Last stall on the left.”

Her body still humming with the residue of passion, Cassie took the suggestion and wandered down the barn’s dimly lit corridor. No point hanging over Ethan like a puppy. Besides, she was curious about Bandera.

The end stall was slightly larger than the rest, but the chestnut stallion within made it seem small. Bandera was tall for a quarter horse, at least sixteen hands, with deep, muscular shoulders and the powerful hindquarters so common to the breed. In the diminished light he looked almost bloodred.

He was magnificent, and Cassie regretted that she wouldn’t be here to see her father’s first real contact with the animal. They were definitely going to make a striking pair.

The hayrack overhead was nearly empty. Bandera nibbled halfheartedly at the remaining flake of Bermuda grass, but pawed the floorboards as though annoyed there wasn’t more.

“You’ve got quite an appetite, don’t you, fella?” she said, holding out her hand.

Bandera’s ears pricked forward, and he turned in Cassie’s direction to rub his face against her palm. She wished she had some treat to give him.

To make up for the fact that she didn’t, she spent a minute or two stroking his head and raking her fingernails gently under his chin. He was calm and well-mannered, very sweet really, for a stallion. The big horse blew out a contented snort. Evidently the second tranquilizer Ethan had given Bandera had the animal under tight control.

“You’re just a big baby,” she whispered to him. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it here.”

The stallion turned away to pull the last of the hay out of the rack. Cassie glanced down the aisleway. Still no Ethan.

Spotting a pitchfork nearby, she retrieved it and speared a fresh flake of Bermuda grass. Might as well make herself useful while she waited.

She swung the hay up and over the stall wall, hoping it would drop squarely into the rack. It didn’t. Instead, it landed on the stall’s floor and broke apart.

Damn. As a kid, her baling arm had been pretty good, but she supposed it had been too long since she’d had to use it. Bandera would trample the sweet-smelling strands to dirty straw in no time, and the stallion shouldn’t eat compromised hay.

Wishing Ethan would hurry, Cassie pulled the latch on the half door and entered the stall. Bandera’s ears pricked forward in attention, and he eyed her curiously. She nudged the animal aside with her shoulder so she could reach the hay to repitch it.

This time her aim was better. It went right into the rack, and immediately the horse stretched his neck to pull down a mouthful.

“How’s that?” Cassie asked as she stroked his powerful neck and crooned soft words. She had her father’s love for horses. Standing this close, Bandera was even more beautiful. A coat like warm silk. Proud head and sleek lines. She’d bet he’d have the gait of a rocking horse.

“Cassie, get out of there!”

A male voice behind her made Cassie and Bandera both jump. Ethan was at the stall’s entrance, already sliding back the latch. He looked surprised and angry, as though she had no right to be inside.

She made a face at him as she entwined her fingers around the stallion’s halter. “Ease up, cowboy. We’re just getting acquainted.”