Rodeo Heat Read online

  He took her small hand in his larger one and the touch of his flesh against hers sent the lust spiking higher. Good God. It had to be the damn pin. Maybe she should take it off before she did something embarrassing. Like throw herself at this man.

  No, not me. Pin or not, that takes more courage than I have at the moment.

  “Hello, Grace Delaney. I’m Ben Lowell.”

  “I got that much.” He was still holding her hand and, strangely, she had no desire to pull it away.

  “I guess I just sort of took things for granted back there,” he told her somewhat apologetically, “but it seemed as if you weren’t too anxious to hang around Melanie and Ross.”

  “She’s an old friend,” she told him, wondering how well Ben knew her.

  He peered at her over the rim of his cup. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, and no offense intended, but you and Melanie don‘t exactly seem like you’d have a lot in common.”

  “You’re right, but we’ve known each other most of our lives.” She saw the tightening of his lips. “Believe me, I know exactly who and what she is, but it doesn’t matter. She’s always been there when I needed her. That’s what counts.”

  He glanced across the room at the woman in question. “I guess sometimes strange friendships are the best ones.”

  Now that she was actually looking at her dream man in the flesh, Grace felt a bad case of nerves clutch at her, along with the most consuming flash of lust she could ever remember having. She took a sip of her drink to steady herself.

  “So. Are you competing in the rodeo?”

  His mouth thinned for a moment then he nodded briefly. “You’d think I’d have enough sense at my age to keep from getting knocked around anymore.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t be polite to ask how old you are.” Shivers rocketed through her as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a slow caress.

  “Thirty-two going on fifty.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Pretty young,” she teased then wondered why she’d said such a stupid thing.

  “Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I sure don’t feel that young. Would it be too rude if I asked how old you are?”

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he held onto it firmly. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Tit for tat.”

  Squirming on the bench, she said, “F-Forty-four.”

  “Just the right age,” he said in a soft voice.

  “For what?” Then she flapped a hand. “Never mind. Anyway, thanks for the rescue.”

  He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-grin. “No problem. You seemed a little desperate.”

  She knew she was blushing. “Sorry. You’d think I never got out of the house, wouldn’t you?”

  “Do you?” he teased. “Get out of the house, that is?”

  Grace sighed and took another swallow of her drink. “Yes, but not so you’d know it, I guess.”

  “Is there a Mr. Delaney?”

  “Not for the last twenty years.” She waited for the stab of pain that usually accompanied acknowledgment of Joe’s death, but somewhere in the past two decades it had disappeared. How had she not noticed? “He…passed away.”

  “*I’m sorry. Pardon me while I take my foot out of my mouth.”

  “No, that’s all right.” She waved a hand at him. “It’s a normal question.”

  “Any children?” he asked.

  “Two and they’re both out of the house and on their own, so it’s just me.” She shook herself. “Oh, Lord. I sound too pathetic for words.”

  Ben smiled at her. “Not at all. I’d say you had a pretty demanding life if you raised the kids yourself. And I’m guessing you worked?”

  “Yes. I started out doing freelance bookkeeping at home while I got my accounting degree. Now, I have my own business.” She dropped her eyes, unexpectedly embarrassed, wondering what he thought of a dowdy little accountant.

  “I’d say you did pretty damn good for yourself. What do you call your business?”

  “Delaney Accounting Services.” She made herself laugh. “Couldn’t get much more boring than that, right?”

  “Well, Grace Delaney, I have the feeling that you’re probably anything but boring.” His fingers on her skin, the warm sound of his voice made her pulse leap and strange feelings cartwheel through her.

  With her free hand, Grace lifted her cup and drank some of her soda, trying to cool her heated emotions. “But enough about me. Your turn. Is there a Mrs. Lowell?”

  “No. Like you, I’m unattached.” His eyes seemed to stare right into her. “Isn’t that convenient?”

  Grace couldn’t have said what they talked about for the next hour. She simply let herself be carried away by the sound of Ben’s deep voice and the erotic images of him naked that kept dancing in her head. She looked around the room once and realized Melanie and Ross had taken themselves off, but that was the only thing that registered on her consciousness.

  I really must be losing my mind.

  She vaguely remembered Ben telling her he had to get ready for the opening of the evening’s program, giving her the ticket and directions to the arena.

  “So.” He picked up her hand again. “Can I talk you into meeting me at nine-thirty when I’m through?”

  He was doing that thing with his fingers again, sending electric flashed along her arm. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Go off with him? Alone? Just the two of them?

  “Just drinks and dinner,” he added, as if sensing her uncertainty. Then he gave her his slow, sexy smile. “And, of course, anything else we might both choose to do.”

  She knew exactly what he was saying. She was so far out of practice with anything like this she didn’t know if she was supposed to play coy, hard to get, or what. She knew only that she had an uncharacteristic burning lust for this man that had zapped her from nowhere. If she made a fool of herself, at least no one else would know.

  “I came with Melanie. If I stay, I won’t have a way home.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that. I promise you. Tell you what.” He rose from the chair, bringing her with him. “I have to go. You think about it and if the answer is yes, you’ll be waiting for me at the work exit at the rear if the arena. If not?” He shrugged. “We can think about what might have been.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “But I hope you’ll be there. Take care, sugar.”

  She watched him walk away with that loose, swivel-hipped walk before dropping again into her chair, because she wasn’t sure her legs would support her.

  Could she do it? Go meet a man twelve years younger than she was? With sex the uppermost thing in both of their minds? Oh, God, was she crazy? But her body was rapidly winning the battle with her common sense. She was so aroused her nipples were like hard points thrusting against the soft fabric of her new shirt and she didn’t think her panties could get much wetter.

  Sighing, she reached up and rubbed the little pin on her collar. Was it sending her messages? Was that what the heat was all about?

  She finished her drink in one swallow, carried both empty cups to a trash can then looked at her watch. She had exactly three hours to decide if she was bold enough to take the next step to an adventure.

  Chapter Three

  Grace took off her cowboy hat, ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it out and replaced her headgear for the fourth time then looked at her watch again. Nine-thirty-one. Thirty seconds later than the last time she’d sneaked a peek. The wide roadway between the back of the arena and the barns was filled with the ebb and flow of the crowd and the chaos of shouting voices. She felt like a fish out of water, flopping around seeking a familiar environment.

  She’d just about decided to see if someone at the main gate could call a cab for her when the door opened and Ben strode out. He was still dressed in the brown twill pants and embroidered western shirt he’d worn for his events and the aroma of animal and dust still clung to him, but to Grace it was a heady perfume.

  “Sorry.” He closed hi
s fingers over her elbow and started leading her toward a parking lot at the end of the roadway. “Sometimes it’s hard to break away. Everyone wants to talk.”

  “I can understand why.” She settled the strap of her purse more securely on her shoulder. “You won both of your events. Everyone wants to congratulate a winner.”

  “So, what did you think of my ride?”

  She gave him a small grin. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  She had, in fact, loved it. The air had been charged with excitement as the bull riders had come out of the chute, each massive animal doing his best to dislodge his rider. Adrenaline had surged through her as if she herself had been mounted on the furious animal and her heart had pounded in cadence with the screams of the crowd. Leather, animal and sweat had tickled her nose, a potent aphrodisiac that sent a message straight to her crotch. Impossibly, she realized her panties were soaked as her feminine juices responded to the stimulation. Who had known that blistering hot cowboys and the ambience of the rodeo would elicit a greater sexual response from her than the few men she’d spent time with in recent years?

  “So which event was your favorite?” he asked.

  “I liked the calf roping, but I thought my heart would stop when I saw you on that bull. God, Ben. It was like being on there with you.”

  His chuckle held little amusement. “I think my heart was beating right along there with yours. Might be time for me to find a less dangerous line of work.” He steered her to a black dual cab pickup, dug his keys out of his pocket and pressed the remote to open the door. “Here we are. Watch your step. It’s a long way up.”

  When his hand rested on her hip to guide her into the cab, Grace thought the heat would burn the imprint of it into her skin.

  Does he feel this as intensely as I do?

  Don’t go there, Grace. At the very most, you’re just a good time for one night to him. And that’s about all you can handle. Have dinner, some drinks. Maybe let him coax you into bed. And don’t make a fool of yourself.

  She buckled her seat belt and leaned into the embrace of the leather seat. The truck was a reflection of him—big, dark, weathered, with the same intensity that beckoned to hidden desires. The leather was butter-soft wherever she touched it and the engine purred with an elegant sound.

  “I’m guessing Melanie had some snappy little comments to make when you told her not to wait for you,” he commented as he headed the big truck toward the exit gate.

  “Actually, I think she was just as happy to get rid of me. I don’t doubt that she and Ross have their own plans.” She pinched the top of her purse and a self-conscious laugh whooshed up from her throat. “Anyway, she thinks I need to loosen up a little.”

  “I’m sure she does. No offense, Grace, and nothing about you.”

  Grace slid a glance at him. “You don’t like her, do you.” A statement, not a question.

  “Let’s just say, I think Melanie’s a little too old to be acting like she’s twenty and playing musical beds.”

  “Oh.” So, what does that say about me?

  Ben reached a hand over and squeezed her thigh. “That has absolutely nothing to do with you, darlin’. I just don’t like Melanie’s style, and let’s leave it at that.”

  Grace chose her words carefully. “I suppose you get a lot of older women throwing themselves at you. Rodeo hounds, you know.”

  Ben’s hand on her thigh tightened. “Actually, they’re called buckle bunnies and if you think I’m lumping you in with everyone else, you can forget that right now.” They stopped at a traffic light and he turned his head to look at her. “The thing is, Grace, what attracted me to you is the fact you’re so different from the usual women I…run into.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing?” The butterflies she’d been fighting since the afternoon had decided to take full flight in her stomach. Why couldn’t she get a grip on her nerves?

  “You bet it is, sugar. You just bet it is.”

  Grace hadn’t paid much attention to where they were heading but now she saw them pull into the parking area of a brand-new three-story motel on the Interstate frontage road.

  “Um, is this where we’re having dinner?”

  Ben parked the truck and turned to smile at her. “Maybe. Or not. This is where I’m showering before I let myself get closer to you than I am now. I stink of rodeo. Shower first then dinner and drinks. Okay?”

  Grace nodded, gripping her purse and trying not to act like a nervous virgin. “Fine. That’s fine.”

  She looked every place but at him as they rode up in the elevator and when he unlocked the door to his room, she had to force herself over the threshold. She nervously scanned the area, noticing it was a suite, not a single room. Apparently, he took good care of himself on the road.

  Ben dropped his keycard and hat onto a round table by the window. He took her hat off and tossed it to the table next to his and unbuttoned his shirt. At the sight of the dark curls covering his chest, Grace’s fingers twitched with the urge to run through them.

  “Would you like something from the minibar to tide you over?” he asked. “Or maybe just a cold drink?”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  He picked up the remote, clicked on the television and handed the control to her. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out pretty quick.”

  Grace sat gingerly in a big armchair, clutching the remote. She couldn’t have said what was on the screen in front of her, because her brain was processing an image of Ben stripping off his clothes in the bathroom and stepping naked into the shower. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let her purse fall to the floor, forgetting where she was, thinking only of a naked Ben Lowell. She slid her hand between her thighs, caressing herself through the fabric of her jeans, a practice that was her release trigger when the spiral coiled too tightly. A way to satisfy herself without needing another person. Certainly none of the men she’d finally gotten around to dating lit one tiny sexual spark.

  Sometimes, especially when she was reading one of her new erotic romances, without even realizing it, she’d slide her hand down to her warm flesh. When she felt the moisture dripping in her pussy, as it was now, she’d rub her clit until she finally climaxed.

  Melanie had finally talked her into buying herself some battery-operated friends, but she didn’t exactly carry one around in her purse. Why should she? This was private, in the secrecy of her home.

  Over the years, she’d reached the point where suppressing her sexual urges had made her uptight and edgy, but nothing had ever brought her to her current state of arousal. Just looking at Ben, listening to him, sent her hormones racing around her body at an unfamiliar speed.

  She moved her hand in the familiar rhythm as she spread her thighs and gave in to the need driving her. When a large, warm hand covered hers and moved over the mound of her pussy with her, she was so startled she almost stopped breathing.

  “You should have joined me in the shower.” Ben’s gravelly voice was soft against her ear and his warm breath tickled her skin. “And here I had this big seduction scene all planned.”

  “Oh! My God!” Heat bloomed in her face and panic tripled her heart rate. How much more embarrassed could she be?

  She tried to jerk her hand away, but Ben closed his fingers over it.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I like to watch a woman touch herself.” He paused. “The right woman. I’ll bet this would feel a lot better without all these clothes on, sugar.”

  “Ben, I—”

  “Come on.”

  He tugged her up from the chair where she was sitting. That was when she realized he was wearing only a bath towel knotted at the waist.

  “You’re… You’re not…”

  He grinned at her. “I forgot to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with me. I thought I’d sneak out and get them, but the image that greeted me was more than I could stand.”

  His fingers were warm against her skin as he opened first one button then anoth
er on her shirt. He stared at the swell of her breasts for a long moment, hunger sparking in his eyes, before he lifted his hands to cup her face.

  “I know you’ll taste real good, Grace. Real good.”

  I have to get out of here. What am I thinking? Grace Delaney doesn’t do this. I’m not sure I even know how. Oh, God, oh, God. Brain, engage and let me think.

  But her brain had shut down for the night. And Ben, it seemed, was a man with a plan. Letting her pull away from him didn’t seem to be part of it. The touch of his lips against hers was gentle as a bird’s wing, pressing so lightly she wasn’t even sure of the contact. He traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, licking the corners and tasting the surface of her lips. When she opened her mouth on a soft sigh, he slid his tongue inside.

  Yes, warm honey, she thought. Then every inhibition, every defense she’d carefully built up over the years shattered and fell. She gave herself over to the heat coursing through her as he coaxed her tongue into a sensual dance with his, twisting and twining while he cradled her face so gently in his calloused hands. Her breath was clogged in her throat and her pulse was beating wildly. He took the kiss so deep, tasting every inner surface of her mouth and enticing her to do the same with him, that she was sure she was drowning in it.

  He tasted of mint toothpaste and just like earlier in the day, his clean male scent made her senses reel. When he eased his tongue from her mouth, she closed her teeth over it, lightly, unwilling to lose the intimate contact. He was pure sin, invading every inch of her body, and she didn’t want him ever to stop kissing her like this. Not ever.

  She gripped his wrists to steady herself, acutely aware of the fine, silken hair on his skin. At last he lifted his head, but he didn’t move away. Instead he trailed his mouth across her cheek then licked the sensitive spot behind one ear, drawing feathery little circles with his tongue. Shivers skipped along her spine and plucked at her skin.

  Now, he dropped his mouth to the edge of her collarbone, nipping here and there, pausing at the hollow of her throat where her pulse was beating so hard she was afraid it would burst through the thin layer of skin. Then down, down, down to the swell of her breasts, his tongue like a flaming icicle, hot and cold, skimming across the surface.