Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (Rough Riders 2)

“No.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“The reason I came here is to offer you a job. I had another foreman quit on me last week.”

“Tell me you ain’t doin’ everything by yourself.”

“Most of it. Carter McKay is helping me out this summer. But he’s just part-time.”

“Carter McKay? One of Colby’s brothers?” His eyebrows knit together. “I don’t know him.”

“He’s the youngest. Been away at school for a number of years. He’s a hard worker, but his heart ain’t really in it. I need someone I can count on.”

“And you think that someone is me?”

“That’s what I’m asking. You know how to handle livestock. You know that ranching is hard work. And I could use an expert opinion on some of the young, untried broncs I’m hopin’ to get into the circuit. Not that those smug bastards calling themselves promoters are giving me a chance.”

Cash frowned.

“Plus, I’ve discovered I need testosterone around. Things run smoother even if a man just stands there lookin’ pretty with his mouth shut while I do all the negotiating.”

He stared at her without speaking for the longest time.

“What?”

“I ain’t pretty, and I ain’t interested in standin’ around with my mouth shut. That ain’t who I am.”

“I didn’t say that you were.”

Cash raised his eyebrows.

Two short horn blasts signaled the start of the wild horse race in the arena. “Anyway, I can’t afford to pay more than two hundred dollars per week. But you’d get room and board. Including any horses you might want to stable. I assume you don’t need a truck?”

“Nope.”

“We’re talking seven days a week. No days off at least until late October and haying season ends.”

“I know. Ain’t the first time something like this has been offered to me.”

“Recently?”

“Yeah.”

Damn. Was she already too late?

“’Course. I turned ’em down flat.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t interested in their offers.”

“So does anything I’ve offered interest you?”

Cash kicked a clod of manure under the trailer. “Depends.”

“On?”

“On whether the only thing you’re offerin’ me is a job.”

Her pulse jumped. “What else would there be?”

“Gemma, you know what else I want. What I’ve wanted since the first time I clapped eyes on you. And if bein’ in your bed—whether or not anyone else knows I’m there—

ain’t part of the deal, then I’ll have to pass.”

No way to misinterpret that.

Lord. Was she prepared to let the past fade? She and Steve Jansen had been happily married for twenty-six years. She’d been widowed for the last three. In recent months she’d grown tired of being alone and in her heart she knew Steve wouldn’t want her to mourn him forever.

But why did Cash want her? When he could have any woman? Young, or old, or in between? Was it a simple case of lust? She didn’t kid herself she was an aging beauty queen. Neither was she a spring chicken.

What if the reality of sharing her body and her bed with Cash Big Crow didn’t hold up to her fantasies? Worse, what if she disappointed him?

There was only one way to find out.

Gemma locked her gaze to his. “Just as long as you know that bein’ in my bed doesn’t change the fact that I will be your boss outside of it.”

“Yeah? Just as long as you know I will be the boss in the bedroom, no matter if you do write my paycheck.” He angled his head until they were only a breath apart. “Tell me somethin’.”

Being this close to Cash sent her senses into chaos. “What?”

“What changed? Last summer when you and I fooled around a little, you stopped it cold.” His brown eyes searched hers expectantly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t ready to move on.”

“And now?”

“I am.”

“For everything that bein’ with me means?”

“Meaning what, Cash?”

“I ain’t some mild-mannered gentleman rancher. I’ve been called a savage. I have savage appetites. Think you can handle it?”

She nodded with more confidence than she felt.

“Then you know what to expect from me when that bedroom door closes?”

“Ah. Um. No. Maybe you’d better spell it out.”

“Obedience. Trust.” He skimmed a finger up her cheek. The casual touch held just enough of an erotic edge that she trembled. “I heard you talkin’ to Channing last summer.

I know there’s a…wild streak inside you. I wanna be the man to tap into it. I wanna give you something he never did.”

Her whole body heated as she remembered the heady feeling of surrendering all control in the name of pleasure. “Okay.”

“Good.” Something primal glittered in his eyes. “It’s ’bout time. I’ve been waitin’ for this day for two damn years.” He hauled her against his body and settled his mouth over hers.

Gemma expected a hard, demanding kiss. But Cash merely pressed his lips to hers and held them there. One callused hand slid up her neck, his thumb tracked the pulse in the hollow of her throat, where her blood beat wildly. The other hand cupped her cheek.

His firm lips indulged in little nips of her trembling mouth. From corner to corner, from top to bottom, a leisurely, teasing glide.

“Let me in,” he whispered, seductively brushing his mouth back and forth against hers. “Kiss me back, Gem.”

Her tongue darted out and traced the seam of his warm lips. Mmm. He tasted as tempting and hot as she’d remembered.

Cash groaned, backing her into the trailer as the gentle kiss turned ravenous.

She latched onto his belt loops and held on for dear life.

Her head spun like a windmill. The way her skin vibrated, it seemed he was touching every inch of her bare flesh, yet his hands hadn’t strayed. He took his own sweet time exploring her mouth. Gauging the change in her heart rate with just a flick of his thumb as the deep kiss became wetter. Hotter. As she became wetter and hotter.

Cash backed off in increments, muttering softly spoken words against her inflamed lips.

Good thing her spine rested against the camper or she might’ve fallen face-first in the creeping Jenny vines covering the rocky ground. She blinked up at him.