Seduction, Cowboy Style

Silver surveyed his profile as he drove through the city. The man talked less than anyone she’d ever met. Did he do it on purpose or was he just that reticent? She’d told him numerous little snippets of information in the few times they’d met, and she still knew next to nothing about him. Well. That was about to change.

“So tell me about yourself,” she said.

Silence. Finally he looked across at her and she caught the first glint of humor in his eye that she’d seen since she met him. “You first.”

“Okay.” If that would get him talking, she’d be glad to start. “You know I have a half brother. I was born in Virginia, raised near Charlottesville as an only child until Cal came to live with us when I was twelve. I studied for four years to get a teaching degree I’ve never used. Cal invited me out here when he bought his father’s place. I’m spending a month or two helping him get the house in order.”

“And then what?”

“Pardon?”

“Will you go home again?”

She shook her head, smiling. “How did you know that’s the one thing I can’t answer?”

He arched an eyebrow, his gaze still on the street, but he didn’t say anything.

She didn’t say anything, either, for a moment. But eventually she couldn’t stand the silence. “I don’t really want to go home. I’ve been thinking of visiting a friend in London.”

“Why don’t you want to go home?”

She shrugged. “I feel sort of in the way if you want the truth. Mother and Daddy are retired, ready to travel and enjoy life, but I think they feel that if I’m around they still need to be there. Plus they’re determined to marry me off.”

He glanced at her, one long arm draped over the steering wheel with utter assurance. “Anyone in particular?”

She laughed but she didn’t really think the question was funny. “Oh, they’re particular, all right. Particularly determined to find me the perfect Southern gentleman. Yuck.” She crossed her arms. “That’s the big reason I don’t want to go home.”

“So get a job and get your own place.”

She wasn’t about to tell him that she could afford several of her own places without ever lifting a finger. “That’s sound advice.” She paused. “Your turn.”

“My turn to what?”

“Talk.” She shook a finger playfully at him. “I just told you my life story. Now it’s your turn.”

He lifted a shoulder as he flipped on the turn signal. “My brother Marty and I inherited the family ranch when my dad passed away nine years ago. Six years ago, my mother married a widower from Sioux Falls and they moved to Florida. She’s still there enjoying the sunshine.” He braked and shifted the truck into park, gesturing out the window with his hand. “Let’s get something to eat.”

She hadn’t been paying attention and she was startled to see that they were parked in the lot of a bar and grill kind of restaurant. She glanced down at the ratty old clothing she’d been wearing since the early-morning hours. “I hope they don’t dress up in there.”

“Smile at them,” Deck advised as he came around and opened her door. “They’ll never know what you’re wearing.”

In the act of sliding down from the seat of the truck she paused, looking up at him with surprise. “Thank you,” she said. “That was a lovely compliment.”

Deck’s lips twitched. She wondered what it would take to get him to smile. “Enjoy it. I’m not much on flowery talk.”

“I’m not one who needs it,” she told him.

To her shock, he lifted a hand and smoothed a quirky tendril of hair back from her cheek, his rough fingers brushing over her sensitive skin. “Maybe not, but you deserve it.”

She opened her mouth, realized she had no earthly idea how to respond to that and closed it again.

Deck stepped away and took her elbow as she slipped down from the high seat, then slammed the door and started toward the restaurant, still cupping her elbow. A low sound caught her ear, and she glanced at him, surprised and startled. “Are you laughing?”

He shrugged, his expression a perfect poker face. “It’s good to know that paying you a compliment shuts you up.”

They ate sitting at the bar in the big room in the front of the restaurant, and she was grateful to Deck. The other patrons looked as if they’d come straight from their barns and her faded clothing wasn’t a problem at all. There were several cowboys there who knew Deck, and if she was the only one who noticed he barely had to utter a word in all the chattering the other men did, nobody said anything. Then again, if he was always like this, they’d be used to it, wouldn’t they?

While she drank a cup of coffee to help ward off the exhaustion that was rolling over her, Deck slid off his stool beside her and walked a few feet away to talk to a couple of men seated in one of the booths.

A jean-clad thigh pressing against hers jolted her out of her stupor. Startled, she slid her leg away, but the man who’d plopped himself down on the next stool only spread himself out more until his thigh pressed against hers again, leaning one elbow on the bar and smiling at her.

He was young and cocky—that was the first thing she noticed. Definitely a bad case of the “what-a-prize-I-am” syndrome.

The second thing she noticed was his hand. It hovered over her thigh for a moment, then settled just above her knee as if it belonged there. Without thinking, she reached down and picked it up, deliberately placing it on the bar. “Excuse me, but I’m not part of the furniture.”

“I didn’t think you were, sweet thing.” He leaned closer, smiling at her with big blue eyes that probably got him results most of the time. “I’m Jeffery. Can I buy you a drink while we get to know each other?”

“No, thank you.” She turned back to her coffee, hoping he’d take the hint, but of course someone so sure of his own charm couldn’t believe she wasn’t interested.

“Okay. How bout we go dancing? You look like a girl who’s got rhythm.”

She was tempted to tell him his pickup lines needed serious work. Instead, she kept looking into her coffee.

“Aw, come on, gorgeous, I can tell you and I have a lot in common. My truck’s right outside—”

“And if you want to live to drive it again you’d better get your ass back in it now.” The voice came from behind them, low and flat and deadly serious.

Jeffery turned around belligerently, but when he saw the tall, dark-featured cowboy in the black hat, he held up both hands in a placatory gesture. “Sorry, buddy. She was sitting here all alone. I didn’t know she was taken.”

“Get out.” Deck’s voice cracked like a whip.

The younger man’s eyes flared wide, and he scrambled off the stool so fast he nearly fell. As he beat a hasty retreat, Deck’s eyes met Silver’s. The deep black anger in them shocked her. “Are you about finished there?”

She nodded. Her legs were trembling, but she stood obediently and let him lead her out of the bar. There was an aura of leashed violence that surrounded Deck in an almost tangible manner. Still, she was a modern woman.

“I could have handled him, but thank you for your assistance. Your method undoubtedly worked faster than mine would have.”

They walked across the gravel to his truck as she spoke. Leading her around to the passenger side, he opened the door and she slid in quickly, avoiding his eyes. He still didn’t speak. What was he thinking? He was definitely annoyed—he wasn’t angry with her, was he?

“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded as he paced back to the driver’s side and slid in. “You’re acting like I did something wrong.”

He shook his head and slid the key into the ignition, then fired up the engine.

“Wait a minute.” She grabbed his arm before he put the truck in gear. “Don’t you ignore me!”

The words had barely left her mouth before he reached for her, taking her upper arms and hauling her over the seat into his lap. Tipping her backward so that she had to clutch at his shoulders for balance, he looked down into her startled face. “I don’t like seeing another man’s hands on you.” His voice was deep and harsh, his features fierce.

The words would never qualify as romantic, but his rough, matter-of-fact statement touched a waiting heat deep in her body. Her heart seemed to drop to the pit of her stomach and she inhaled a sharp breath, her heartbeat speeding up until it hammered in her throat like a trapped bird at a window.