Blame It On Texas Read online

  He had neither. The next kiss, heated and intense, meant business. He wondered how he’d survived so long without kissing her, without moving his hands to the back of her head to hold her mouth against his. Kate moved closer, kneeling to meet him as she had so many other times before so that their lips would be level, so that she could slant her mouth and part her lips and take his tongue inside her mouth to tangle and mate with his.

  He’d give all the cattle in Texas if he could keep kissing Kate McIntosh. It had been too long, a lifetime too long, since the last time he’d held her. Dustin managed to slide his hands to her back, skim her waist and dip under her T-shirt. Her skin was hot, reminding him of some pretty damn steamy nights in the drive-in. Reminding him of what it was like to be inside of her.

  “Kate,” he managed, lifting his mouth a scant inch from hers. His hands swept high under her shirt and touched the satiny fabric of her bra. “I don’t want to do this on the front seat of the truck.”

  “No?” Her hands dropped to his chest and fumbled with the buttons of his denim work shirt.

  “Not enough room,” he managed to explain.

  “I should have brought the Lincoln.” She kissed the dimple in his chin. “Bigger back seat.”

  “Next time,” he promised. The gods owed him this. Owed him time with the only woman he had ever fallen in love with. He wasn’t in love with her now, of course—he was too smart for self-torture—but his physical reaction to her was the same as it had always been: pure unadulterated lust, the best of all feelings.

  “Then where?”

  “On the grass.”

  “Uh-uh,” the lady said. “Rattlesnakes.”

  “The truck bed?”

  She slipped the last button through its hole and skimmed her hands along his bare chest. “Too hard.”

  “I have a sleeping bag behind the seat.” His hands moved higher, to cup her breasts, satin material covering what he wanted most to touch. It took only seconds to release the clasp so that those breasts spilled into his hands. Another practiced move and her shirt, along with her bra, ended up tossed over the gearshift.

  “Works for me.” Her bare breasts brushed his chest, her skin so hot and soft he thought he would explode right then and there. His hands rounded her shoulders, held her against him. “Still mad at me?”

  “Yeah.” His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the little pulse there beating rapidly beneath his lips.

  “I’m not too thrilled with you either,” she murmured. Her hand found the waistband of his jeans and tugged on the snap.

  “Wait,” he managed to say, though the word didn’t come easy. He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against hers. “If we don’t slow down we will be doing it in the truck.” It would be a bungled, hasty affair and not at all the stuff that fantasies were made of.

  “Yes.”

  He lifted his hands and released her, but her eyes were closed and she didn’t move right away. Dustin turned and fumbled behind the seat for the sleeping bag. “Come,” he told her, and she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “We’re crazy,” was all she said.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, opening the door. “I know.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OF COURSE THIS WAS crazy, Kate decided, as Dustin disappeared from view. She was naked from the waist up in Dustin’s truck. She was about to climb into the back of the truck and make love on a sleeping bag. It was the middle of the afternoon. A June afternoon in Texas. If the excitement didn’t kill them, the heat surely would.

  She was twenty-seven, not eighteen. But her age didn’t have anything to do with falling in love. And falling in love she was, all over again. Or maybe she had never stopped. She’d been home for a handful of days and here she was, half-naked and aroused, waiting for Dustin to make a bed. Waiting for Dustin to make love to her.

  Some things never changed.

  “Kate?” He opened the truck door. His chest, browned and muscled, filled part of the opening. Dustin held out his hand and smiled at her. “I’m ready if you are.” His gaze dropped to her bare breasts and then back to her face. “You’re more beautiful than I remembered,” he said.

  Her heart flipped over when he looked at her like that. Her heart remembered a lot of things, she realized, as she took his hand. She grabbed her shirt and climbed out of the truck and took a breath of thick, heavy air. “Are you sure no one will come by?”

  “I’m the only one who works this place, remember?”

  “But it’s not as if it was dark—”

  He sat her on the open tailgate and stood in front of her. “No one is going to bother us, Katie, but if you want to leave, just say so.”

  She sat naked from the waist up and eyed Dustin’s wide, bare chest. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” He stepped forward, easily moving Kate’s knees apart so he could stand closer to her. He took her crumpled blouse from her hand and once again tossed it aside. “You’d break my heart.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, as he moved closer and ran his index finger down her breast.

  “Why?” He didn’t look at her, but bent to kiss her neck. His lips descended lower, to tease her peaked nipple with his tongue. Kate thought she might fall over, so she reached for him, held his shoulders, ran her fingers along his neck while he explored each breast and sent tingling warmth along her already sensitive skin.

  She had no answer for him, of course. She couldn’t think, especially when his hands found the waistband of her shorts and unzipped them. His fingers slipped underneath the elastic of her bikini underwear with tantalizing slowness, teasing her, and then returned to her waist.

  Kate was lifted and set down in the middle of a fluffy blue sleeping bag, a place that looked like a virtual paradise compared to the front seat of the truck. It smelled of hay and horse, a combination she’d missed in New York. “You sleep here often?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, eyeing her as he climbed up and stretched out alongside her. “Alone.”

  She had no time to feel awkward, because Dustin reached over and lifted her on top of him. “There,” he said with great satisfaction. “That’s better.”

  She lay along the length of him, her breasts flat against his chest, her hair falling along his cheeks. She tucked it behind her ears so she could kiss him. He was hard against her thigh; she shifted so he pressed against the part of her that throbbed with anticipation.

  “You’re going to kill me,” he said, playing with a strand of hair that dangled near his mouth.

  “The sun might do that for me.”

  He shifted so they were on their sides, facing each other. “Better?”

  “Mmm,” she said, but not because she no longer felt the heat on her bare back, but because his hands were busy removing the rest of her clothing. She shifted to make it easier, wanting to feel the source of all that heat against her skin. Wanting him inside of her again, the way it used to be. They had never made love in the daylight before. She had never seen his body in other than shadows, in the light of the movie screen, and he had never seen hers.

  His hands skimmed her bare thighs, the dip of her waist and back again, as if he wanted to give her time to get used to his touch. He tilted her slowly onto her back and then, with great speed, removed his clothing and returned to her.

  Skin to skin was better, Kate concluded. Much better and infinitely more satisfying. She was wet and ready, though he took his time before entering her. Another difference, but not an unwelcome one. His hands were more knowing of a woman’s body, his instincts honed. She took him in her arms and into her body and knew that somehow this was right and real and exactly what she wanted.

  He filled her, inch by tantalizing inch, and smiled down into her eyes. “It’s been a long time,” he whispered, moving inside of her.

  Too long, she would have replied, but he took her mouth and her breath and every vestige of control she clung to. He fit inside of her perfectly, as s
he remembered. And made love to her, as she remembered. And her body hadn’t forgotten what it was like to tighten and climax around him. Her arms knew to hold him when he came deep inside of her, and her eyes sought his when it was over.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” was all he said, before he kissed her again.

  HE WAS IN DEEP TROUBLE.

  No doubt about it, this Texan was out of his league. Dustin looked at himself in the cloudy mirror above the bathroom sink and saw a man who was hopelessly and foolishly and once again in love.

  Nothing good could come of it. He rubbed shaving cream on his face and lifted his razor to the side of his face. He could end it all now and slit his throat, but Dustin Jones was no coward.

  “Daddy?” The boy peered into the bathroom and a look of relief crossed his little face. The kid always looked like that whenever he saw his guardian, like he was surprised that Dustin was doing something normal. Like he was surprised that Dustin was around at all.

  “What?” He continued to shave, rinsing the razor in the sink.

  “Can I go to Grandma Gert’s house tonight?”

  “Why?”

  The boy shrugged his skinny shoulders, trying to copy Dustin’s familiar gesture. “’Cuz.”

  “Because why?”

  Danny shrugged again, then scooted past Dustin to perch on the toilet seat lid.

  “Sorry, pal. You’ll have to do better than that.” He continued to shave. “Besides, no one’s home. The ladies have gone out to dinner.”

  “They have?”

  “Yeah.” Dustin splashed, making some shaving foam land on Danny’s knee. He giggled and scooped it up with his finger, then leaned over and placed it on the back of Dustin’s knee.

  Dustin turned and pretended to growl with outrage, but the boy’s eyes grew wide with fear and he scrambled to tuck himself into the small space behind the toilet.

  Dustin tried to reassure him while he quickly cleaned up. He coaxed the boy from his hiding spot and settled him at the kitchen table.

  “So I wouldn’t get hit,” Danny explained when Dustin asked him about his reaction. He still appeared wide-eyed, but was happy for chocolate milk and one of the cookies Gert had given him to take home. “It’s a good place,” he explained to his new father. “Mommy couldn’t get me there.”

  Dustin managed to hold back his rage at this latest revelation. “Mommy” wasn’t ever going to get her hands on this child again, not as long as Dustin was there to protect the kid. He wished he could put the woman in jail, but a lawyer had already told him that was a waste of time. There’d been few charges against her, and the child abuse couldn’t be proved. At least the boy was safe from his parents’ destructive influence now. The court had put Lisa in a drug rehab center; Darrell was in prison and would be for another ten years. Concentrate on the child, the man had advised. Make a home for him, so the judge will see he’s being taken care of.

  “Does Kate have kids?”

  “No.” This afternoon he’d concentrated on making love to Kate. Not on work and not on the boy, but on Kate. He allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if she stayed on the ranch, if she took over from her grandmother. If she loved him back.

  Oh, yeah. He’d fallen in love with her all over again, from the minute she’d walked into the grange hall in that fancy outfit and high-heeled shoes. Dustin grimaced, but the boy didn’t see. He was busy picking chocolate chips out of the cookie and lining them up on the table. For some reason that was big entertainment.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not what?” He opened the refrigerator and took out some eggs and bacon. Surely there was nothing wrong with eating breakfast for supper.

  “Why doesn’t Kate have kids? Doesn’t she like kids?”

  “I’m sure she does,” Dustin replied. She seemed happy enough to baby-sit the Bennett kids yesterday. And she was kind to Danny, even though she thought he was the reason she and Dustin had broken up.

  “Does she like me?” Now the chocolate chips were shoved into a pile, readied to be eaten all at once, Dustin supposed.

  “Sure she does.”

  He should tell her the truth, but would it make any difference? It may have been nine years ago, but the truth wasn’t going to change anything now. Let the woman think what she wanted. She would be gone in nine days and he doubted she would stay if he asked her. He didn’t have much to offer a woman who already had everything.

  But in his heart he knew Kate belonged here, belonged here with him and the boy.

  Too bad Kate was the only one who didn’t seem to realize it.

  “I REALIZE YOU DON’T approve, Martha, but I have to think of my career.” Gert shuffled through the stacks of papers spread over the kitchen table. “Now where did I put those pictures of my mother and father?”

  “Your career,” Martha repeated, praying for patience. If her mother was really delusional, she was going to need all the patience God could send her way. “You haven’t written the book yet, Mother. Maybe you should wait until you’ve finished it before you give interviews to—”

  “I’m ninety,” Gert snapped, fussing through a stack of old photographs. “How much longer do you think I should wait?”

  Until hell freezes over and the cows come home, Martha wanted to say. Until it snows in July and Texans quit drinking beer. She looked at her watch and realized she had little time to spend arguing with her mother over a newspaper interview. She’d come out to the ranch to see Kate, but the girl had gone off somewhere with Dustin and the boy again. “When’s Kate coming back?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Martha tried another tactic. “You know, Mother, it’s a wonderful idea to write the family history, but don’t you think telling stories about the folks around here might be considered an…invasion of privacy?”

  Gert snorted. “History’s history. No one can change it, no matter how much they want to.”

  Well, that was true. Martha thought of things she’d change and things she wouldn’t. Mostly she’d do things a lot smarter if she could do them over again. It was too bad she wouldn’t get the chance.

  She eyed the piles of papers on the table. With any luck, Gert would lose interest before it was done. “I’ll be out tomorrow. Did you write down a grocery list?”

  “Kate did.” Gert waved in the direction of the refrigerator, so Martha walked across the kitchen and found the list underneath a magnet shaped like Texas. “You have a date tonight, Mattie?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she admitted. “Carl is taking me to Marysville for the Friday night seafood special at Lou Lou’s.”

  “I’m glad you’re getting out.”

  “It’s nice to have a man around,” Martha said, which had to be the understatement of the summer. She had plans for tonight that had more excitement than the Super Shrimp Platter. She looked out the window in time to see Dustin’s truck, in a cloud of dust, arrive out back. “Here’s Kate. Do you think she’s serious about him?”

  “I hope so,” Gert said, joining her at the window. “I’d like to think she’s as smart as I think she is.”

  “That young man is trouble,” Martha muttered. “I just know it.”

  “Kate can take care of herself,” Gert declared. “The women in our family are good at that.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, but grudgingly. “Just be careful what you say to that reporter today. You don’t want folks getting all riled up.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna give ’em enough to whet their appetite, that’s all.”

  “Fine,” Martha said, knowing full well her mother would say whatever she wanted to say. She glanced at her watch again. She was getting her hair done at two, her nails at three and she still had to change the sheets on her bed and clean the bathroom before she headed to the beauty parlor. Tonight was the night to add a little romance into her own life.

  For the rest of this Friday she would pretend that her mother wasn’t going to air the town’s dirty linen and that her daug
hter wasn’t having an affair with the hired help. Besides, the construction of the Good Night Villas had progressed nicely, which meant there were some secrets in town that would remain buried.

  SURELY SHE COULD keep her jeans on tonight, Kate decided, looking at herself in the full-length mirror in the upstairs bedroom she’d claimed as her own this vacation. The red heels could be a little much, but the sleeveless red top with its pearl snaps and demure fringe was perfect for dancing.

  Perfect for driving her cowboy crazy, which was the real point, she knew, despite her good intentions. She wanted to look so damn good that the man would take her home early and make love to her all night.

  Which would be a dumb thing to do.

  Kate kicked off the heels and eyed her sandals. If she wore a long-sleeved denim shirt over a white tank, she would look sporty. If she went with red, she would look like she was asking for sex.

  And of course she was, but she didn’t have to be obvious about it. They hadn’t made love since the time in the truck on Tuesday. So obviously she did have to be obvious, or else she’d be forced to conclude that Dustin had gotten her out of his system.

  She hated to think that. Like she hated to think she was falling in love with him again. Like she hated to think the man would know she was falling in love with him again. Really, she wasn’t sure which was worse.

  Kate put the red heels back on and prepared to torture the man. It was the least she could do when, for the past three days, he’d acted as if they’d never made love. A woman had her pride.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE LAST CHANCE SALOON would never be the same. Dustin figured from the admiring looks that were coming Kate’s way that he’d be lucky if he didn’t get into a fight before the night was over. Protecting the lady’s honor could get difficult. Wearing that outfit—snug blue jeans, fancy red shoes and a top that fit her curves a little too well—Kate attracted a lot of attention. Oh, there were other pretty women showing more skin and wearing tighter clothing, but none were as beautiful as Kate.