"Barbara Lane.” Her angry voice sounded almost sexy with its raspy tone.
"You're Buster's daughter?"
"No. I just told you. I am Joseph Lane's daughter. Do you have a hearing problem?"
Apparently she never knew her father was known around these parts as Buster, not Joseph. He smirked at her comment, chuckling to himself. That snippy attitude would help him keep his cock under control. She was far too tempting under him. He could feel every curve of her, his groin nestled into hers as if it belonged there, and the way she wiggled made him loathe to make a move to get off her.
Begrudgingly, he got off her, and noticed she was suddenly aware of his near naked state. She gawked at him before turning away with a blush to stare at the ground. He stretched out his hand to help her up to a sitting position and she reluctantly took it.
It was plain to him that she was an innocent. She looked at him as if she had never seen a naked man before, and Vincent didn't mind the way her gaze had drifted curiously over his body. He knew he turned most of the ladies’ heads, but she was different somehow in the way she tried to keep her eyes modestly avoiding him. Though he could tell her body was reacting to his as well, and not from fear.
He pulled her close to him, but not touching her intimately. Making him acutely aware of her body.
"It's my pleasure to meet you, my dear. My name is Vincent Waverly."
* * * *
Irritated, she blew out a breath with a huff. The man was making it impossible not to like him. Worse, her body was responding to the proximity of his as if she were a common doxy. She placed her hands between them, pushing up against his chest. He had to leave. He didn't belong here, and she did. So, it was time to rectify the situation. “I wish I could agree, Mr. Waverly, but I am not fond of trespassers, and you are trespassing."
He rolled over, placing a hand over hers and pulling her on top of him. She sat on his lap as he lay there under her, just enjoying the view of her full breasts rising and falling with each breath. He withdrew his hand from hers before crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest. One eyebrow raised high in amusement as she spoke.
"Mr. Waverly, I don't know how long you have been living in that house, but it is my house now. So now that I am here, I would appreciate if you gather your things and leave."
"Really?” he questioned, his voice lightly mocking.
"Yes.” She swallowed hard. What if he refused her request? He didn't look like he wanted to leave. She would have to go to the sheriff and get him thrown out. There was just no way he could go on living with her in that house. No respectable lady would even consider it. So what if the idea made her pulse pound in her ears. So what if he had one of the most attractive bodies she had ever seen.
All the more reason for him to leave now.
He didn't belong here and she did.
"Too bad, lady. I am not leaving.” With that, he shoved her away from him, walking past her and straight back to her house.
That defiant action fueled Barbara's anger.
It was her house.
What did he mean he wasn't leaving?
Her sharp intake of breath wasn't enough to get his attention, so she let out a cry of frustration, before running after him. Her feet barely touched the ground in her haste.
Barbara clutched his arm. “Why not? It's my house."
"It's also my house. Buster and I were partners, my dear.” He carefully unlatched her fingers from his arm. “I own half that house and half of that claim and you aren't getting rid of me that easily."
Barbara's legs froze in place, shocked. She watched his solidly built body disappear into the house. She wasn't prepared for this revelation. She wanted to see proof of what he said was true. How could this have happened? Nothing in her father's will had said anything about him having a partner.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Four
Vincent woke to a warm female body next to his. Soft, long legs intertwined with his. Her skin carried the clean scent of honey and lavender. He was tempted to touch her and pull her into his body, but thought the better of such wicked ideas.
She would be hell to live with if she thought he had taken advantage of her, and right now it was more like she was taking advantage of him. He grinned, nuzzling his face into her soft hair. She was the one who sought out his body heat in the night. She was the one who kicked her skirts up, and she was the one who made the decision to sleep in the same bed. So, it was her fault their legs were now intertwined, and their bodies were so very close.
Last night he thought about being the gentleman and giving up his bed to her, but he was damned if he was going to let some female into his life and turn his world upside down. It was his bed, damn it. She came in here demanding he give up his house and when she asked him for the bed there was no way he was about to give it to her. Not after the condescending way she treated him. She could sulk all she wanted, but a man had limits. Buster and he had been able to share the full-size bed, and he was fine with it. Barbara could act like an adult about it, too. It wasn't like he planned on seducing her or anything.
She had fallen asleep long after him. Now he was taking advantage, savoring a slow perusal of her body when she still had an angelic look on her face from her dreams, not those pursed lips and devilish tongue that lashed out at him. She didn't have that constant frown on her face and she wasn't glaring at him for once. Instead, soft eyelashes brushed her skin. Her full chest rose and fell in gentle even breaths.
God, and what a delicious chest it was. Full, ripe, womanly breasts that were generously overflowing her chemise. She could get a job with the saloon in town as soon as they took one look at those beauties. She had assets that would draw a crowd, and keep business coming back for more. He would certainly pay to have her. Although, bringing her to Annie's Saloon wasn't something he wanted to do anytime soon. Sharing her with another man didn't appeal to him, and Vincent was a frequent visitor to the saloon. Barbara wasn't the type of lady who would understand about his dalliances.
He frowned at that thought. It wasn't like he planned on changing his life around for her, but sure enough, the changes had already started. He was going to have to not do the things that could offend a delicate woman. Which meant too many changes in his life.
No more whoring.
No more gambling.
She probably would try to put an end to his drinking, too.
Damn women always want to change a man.
Which was a very good reason not to have just one woman in his life.
Women complicated things.
She murmured in her sleep, nestling into the crook of his arm, and he stopped resisting the temptation to put his arm around her. He cradled her with his other arm. Damn, but she was a tempting wench. Such a soft delicate flower would be snatched up in no time if any of the men from town knew she was here. Especially if she did not have a husband.
That thought put a foul taste in his mouth. Somehow he didn't want to believe that she was another man's wife. Certainly a husband wouldn't allow such a woman to go unaccompanied into the west? No, she could not possibly be married. A snake of worry worked itself into his stomach, twisting his gut.
Not that he should be concerned about that. Where had that thought come from? He was not a jealous man. He had no intention of marrying her or anyone else. Marrying was the end of a man's freedom, and he intended to be free as long as possible. He chuckled softly to himself. That was when the sleeping angel turned into the hellion he met last night.
Her eyes flew open and he watched the emotions cross her face, reading them as plain as any book.
First there was alarm, then shock, then she had to be remembering what passed between them last night, because finally the only expression left on her face was that same evil glare he remembered from the night before.
Wild and untamed.
Those were the words that came to his mind to describe her. Her hair fell softly around her face, like a gold
en halo, and her angelic face hardened into the perfect seraphim, God's warrior. Her fair features, stood out as perfect as those of a doll. Although her blue eyes were icy, and her lips pursed shut, she was still too beautiful to resist.
He felt an intense need to tame that wild spirit of hers. He wanted to kiss her. Break her like a wild horse. He doubted that any man had tamed her.
Only an innocent would blush at the sight of seeing a man's naked chest. Or wake up indignant to find herself wrapped up in his arms, when she put herself there. One side of his mouth kicked up as he entertained the delightful thought of teaching her what it meant to submit to him.
"How dare you!” she hissed.
He grinned at her, amused at her sudden viciousness. “Good morning, sugar. Just when I thought there may have been a nice side to you—you go and spoil it."
"You—you—you irritating man!” She attempted to wriggle out of his legs and free herself, but he locked his legs together tighter, denying her any escape. She pushed at his chest, her hands splaying in his chest hair as she cried out, “Let me go!"
"Maybe if you tried asking nicely."
"You don't deserve to be asked nicely.” She stilled her wrestling for a moment before gritting out the word, “Please."
Suddenly he released her and she darted up off the bed, muttering under breath, “You are such a horse's ass."
"Now that doesn't sound very much like the polished young lady I imagined you to be.” He sat up slightly on one elbow.