Million Dollar Cowboy Read online

  He paced, thinking of her clad only in a robe. Stop it. No expectations. She’d come here for coffee, not sex. But he couldn’t help wishing and hoping that she had ulterior motives.

  To what end? A onetime sexy romp?

  Kaia deserved better than that. She deserved happily-ever-after, and he was not the guy who could provide that. He was going to China for six months, and in the fall she’d be headed back to College Station to finish her schooling.

  Bad timing all the way around.

  Ah hell, how had he gotten himself into this situation? Ridge ran his palm up the back of his neck.

  Better question, how was he going to get himself out?

  Chapter 15

  Ridge was waiting for Kaia in the living room when she got out of the bathroom, her skin damp from the shower.

  The sight of him slid into view before she had fully braced herself for it.

  He was leaning back in the expansive leather chair, holding a tumbler filled with an inch of Baileys Irish Cream over ice. He sat in a relaxed posture, but his eyes were sharp, focused, a blue-jeaned executive in his Texas tuxedo. Sharp as a honed blade in a suede sheath.

  She opened her mouth to say just that, but then stopped, put the tip of her tongue to the apex of her upper lip. He might take it the wrong way and that bothered her. Why?

  Unless …

  Kaia shook off the thought and tightened the belt on the oversized terry cloth bathrobe. Felt completely naked underneath the heat of his frank perusal.

  “Have a seat.” He waved at the matching chair next to him.

  Not really knowing why, other than he’d issued an edict, she sat.

  He stabbed his fingers through his hair. Showing his nervousness for the first time. Ah, the iron man did have a chink in his armor.

  The air between them was thick with tension a chain saw couldn’t whittle.

  He lifted his head. Slammed his gaze into her like a head-on collision.

  Kaia realized she was trembling. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she said, “You didn’t put my dress in the washer, did you?”

  “No. I was going to wash it, but realized it was dry-clean only.”

  “Oh whew. That dress cost me two weeks’ salary.” It dawned on her then that she had nothing else to wear home. It had to be either the coffee-stained dress or the bathrobe. Clearly, she’d go with the coffee-stained dress.

  “I poured you a drink.” He nodded at a second tumbler of Baileys sitting on the small circular table situated between the two leather chairs. “Figured you could use it.”

  “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed. “I don’t like the way alcohol makes me feel.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Different. Unlike myself.”

  “Isn’t that the purpose of drinking?”

  “But I like being who I am,” she said.

  He snorted, as if he was jealous of that or didn’t believe her, and took another swallow of the Baileys.

  This wasn’t smart. She shouldn’t have come here. She had no idea what he wanted from her.

  Or what she wanted from him. It was all muddled. Her childhood crush mixed with this overpowering, but momentary lust.

  And the Song of the Soul Mate. Don’t forget that.

  “Screw it,” Ridge said, set down his drink, reached across the space between them, and yanked her into his arms.

  Kaia gasped, startled and thrilled at the same time. Her head swam. She loved being in Ridge Lockhart’s take-charge embrace.

  His mouth hovered above hers, full and lush and beautiful. He smelled of Baileys, coffee, and the cinnamon mints served at the wedding—strong, bracing, and spicy sweet.

  The moment his lips touched hers, that crazy swell of humming buzzed along the back of her brain again, louder and more insistent than it had been the night before.

  It was a steady throb. A relentless river of vibration. A sweet rhythmic whir that simultaneously lulled her and shocked her into alertness.

  Him. Him. Him.

  Kaia couldn’t quite remember how they got from the living room to his bedroom. Kissing was involved, and a slow two-step to the tune of the humming in her head. She floated on a current, every murmur, every caress, every sigh, colored with dreamy magic.

  “I’ll take that Baileys now,” she said, once they were in his bedroom.

  “Do you want to feel like someone else?”

  She already did, a strange new woman eager to explore a provocative land. “Liquid courage,” she clarified.

  He stared at her a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. “We don’t have to do this.”

  It wasn’t a question of want, but rather, pulsing, unrelenting need. She needed to be sated. She needed to be with this man. Hungered for him and him alone. Craved him.

  “Yes,” she croaked. “I’m sure.”

  “Be right back.” He vanished and quickly returned with the tumbler of Baileys.

  Their fingers brushed in the handoff. Kaia inhaled a sharp, urgent breath.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

  The glass trembled in her hand. She held on tightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Once she’d regained a modicum of control, she brought the drink to her lips, took a bracing sip. Winced at the cloyingly sweet, creamy taste.

  She set the glass down on a dresser, felt the warm liquid slide through her bloodstream, closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing.

  “Kaia?”

  Gradually, she fluttered her eyes open, shifted her gaze to meet his, and the world stopped spinning. Either that, or it sped up so fast it felt like it had frozen still.

  The humming in her head spread, blooming, growing until it filled her entire skull with ethereal song.

  This was insanity.

  She knew that. It was simply ringing in her ears. Except the noise wasn’t coming from her ears. It emanated from the base of her brain. A primal, eternal sound, heavenly as harp music.

  Having sex with Ridge would be a game changer. He would mark her indelibly. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

  There was danger here. She could fall in love with him. He could break her heart. Mostly likely would break her heart. He could break her in a way from which she might not ever recover.

  And yet, she wanted him. Uncontrollably. The need was relentless, pushing at her with gusto and force.

  He opened his arms and she threw herself into them. She could no more resist him than the ocean’s tide could resist the pull of the moon.

  So she just surrendered. Let the tide come in. Allowed the waves of emotion, need, and longing slap her into swiftly moving currents.

  He pulled her against his chest and his mouth claimed hers again, and sweet joyous relief surged through her.

  She felt a click, a solid settling in. As if they fit like puzzle pieces. It felt so right in his arms, and wrong for her to be anywhere else but here.

  Desperately, she reached up to cradle his cheek with her palm. He made a guttural noise low in his throat and deepened their kiss.

  She thirsted for him, for his touch, for his taste, for his sound. She was the lock and he was the key and together the entire world was open to them.

  The strangest, inexplicable sensation came over her, a feeling that without him she would forever surf adrift on the ocean. A rudderless boat lost at sea.

  “Kaia,” he whispered into her mouth. “My sweet, sweet Kaia.”

  She tugged his head down, encouraging him to take the kiss as far as it would go. Frantically, she helped him get naked, stripping off his jacket, pawing at the buttons on his shirt.

  It felt both odd and comfortable to be standing before him, working at his clothes with hot, fumbling fingers. As if they were lovers.

  Could she use the word lover for a onetime hookup? Probably not. Lovers suggested a long-term relationship, and that’s all this was, a onetime thing. Soothe the ache.
Scratch the itch. Douse the fire.

  The front of his white cotton shirt parted, giving her a glimpse of his tanned skin, toned muscles, and a sprinkling of dark chest hair.

  She twirled a finger in the soft springy tuft; his golden muscles tensed beneath her touch. She heard his harsh intake of breath, and the thrum of her pounding pulse.

  His warm skin turned silky beneath her palms as she slid them up his chest, hooked her thumbs into the seams of his shirt at the armpits, and stripped the shirt from his broad shoulders. Let it drift to the floor.

  And there she had it, an unobstructed view of his gloriously ripped torso. Heat radiated off him in waves, blistering into her, burning her up.

  Hot desire hummed at the base of her brain. Swelled. Grew. Vibrated down her spine and throughout her entire body until she was nothing but a single quivering string of sexual energy.

  “Unbelievable.” She exhaled a puff of pent-up air.

  “You’re what’s unbelievable,” he said in a dusky voice full of hidden meaning and dark mystery.

  She sighed. It was a shaky sound, uncertain and nervous.

  He ducked his head, peered down at her. Smiled a devastating smile that sent her heart skip hopping. Checkerboard heart.

  Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Queen me.

  Ridge laughed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and his navy blue eyes churned, mystic and dark as the night sky.

  “Your laugh sounds rusty,” she said, wanting the emphasis off her. “Like you don’t use it enough.”

  “I don’t,” he admitted. “I’m serious about my business, and I work eighty hours a week. Not much time for laughter.”

  She wanted to tell him how sad that was, but she hated to derail what was happening between them. Especially when he was looking at her as if he couldn’t wait to eat her up.

  Yum.

  He cradled her jaw in his palm, tilted her face up, and feathered a line of blazing kisses from her earlobe to her chin.

  Kaia moaned softly at the sweet tingles spreading throughout her body. She parted her lips, leaned into his hard, delicious chest.

  More. She wanted more. Needed so much more from him.

  Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, entwined her fingers, tugged his head lower, and planted her mouth against his. A groan of pleasure escaped him, and she could taste the sweet flavor of Baileys on both their tongues.

  With each sip from her lips, he tantalized her with a sequence of leisurely kisses, escalating pressure and heat. This was different from the hot, urgent kiss they’d shared beside his plane. That had been frantic, spur-of-the-moment, fueled by the fire of secrecy and situation.

  But these kisses? These here? They were an invitation—a tantalizing temptation, a slow seduction, an unhurried waltz. These kisses suggested dazzling possibilities of cool sheets on a sultry night and infinite, wide-open bliss.

  At once, they pressed closer into each other, the material of her terry cloth robe rubbing against his bare chest. Her breast growing warm and heavy, her nipples hardening.

  He eased the robe down, planting kisses from her neck to her shoulder as he went, first one side and then the other. A crop of kisses, planting seeds of lust she knew he would be harvesting soon.

  She shivered.

  “Cold?”

  “Hot.”

  “Like a fever shiver?”

  “Like a fever shiver,” she echoed.

  “Good.” His smile was wolfish in the dim light, and then he kissed the hollow of her throat.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Do you need to get that?” she whispered.

  “No,” he said, finding the cell in his pants pocket and switching it off without even checking the caller ID.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. Right now, you’re the only thing that matters.”

  “I don’t mind if you need to take the call.”

  “I mind.” He kissed her again.

  She drowned in the sweetness of his heat, the haunting humming in her head, the heartrending beauty of here and now.

  “What do you want?” he whispered, brushing his fingers against her temples and peering deeply into her eyes.

  “I want you.” She snuggled against his chest.

  He kissed her forehead, his lips warm on her skin. “No. What do you really, really want?” He placed a hand over her heart. “Deep down inside.”

  “Sex!”

  “Don’t be glib.”

  “Why not? You’re glib. In fact, you’re the master of glib.”

  “But you’re not. Tell me, Kaia. What do you want?”

  “You,” she said. “I want you to take me to bed and do all kinds of naughty things to me. Make no mistake, Ridge Lockhart. I’m not some fragile thing. I like a good time as much as the next woman. This is about sex. Let’s just have a good time. I don’t want anything more from you than that.”

  “As you wish,” he said, took her hand, and led her toward the bed.

  Chapter 16

  Kaia didn’t want anything more than sex.

  He should have been relieved. If any other woman had said that, he would be relieved. Instead he felt …

  Ridge searched his brain, looking for the word that described what he was feeling. He was such a master at sweeping emotions under the rug he often had trouble identifying them when they cropped up. He was fairly familiar with anger, but with subtler emotions, tender emotions? Well, he was inept.

  Then he saw an impish smile tug the corners of her full mouth. Overwhelmed, he caught sight of their images in the bureau mirror on the other side of the bed.

  Finally identified what he was feeling.

  Disappointment.

  He was disappointed with her for not wanting more, and with himself for not protesting when she said she only wanted sex. Because he wanted more than sex, had known it, and denied it, from the second he’d seen her again.

  That split-second clash with his mirror doppelgänger opened his eyes, his mind, and his heart and triggered a sudden, staggering question.

  Who was he?

  A man who skimmed along the surface of life, collecting, achieving, constantly chasing success, but finding it was never enough? Or he could be the man who searched for something deeper, more meaningful?

  Was he the guy who forever bailed out when relationships got complicated? Or could he be the man who dug in and found a way to make things work when he finally found the woman he wanted?

  Was he going to let fear of intimacy define his life? Or could he take a chance, go out on a limb, and commit to something that scared the hell out of him?

  A terrifying thought swirled through his head.

  What if he’d avoided love for so long that he couldn’t undo the pattern? What if his path was carved in stone, and he could not veer from it even if he wanted to? What if he laid his heart on the line and Kaia ultimately rejected him?

  What if he was incapable of love?

  What then?

  Before he could fully explore the stunning new realization, she was nibbling on his chin, driving all thoughts and fears from his mind. All except one.

  Kaia.

  He had to have her.

  No woman had ever derailed him like this. He was crazy with need for her, blind and deaf with it.

  He’d even turned off his cell phone for her. And he hardly ever turned off his cell phone for any reason.

  She sank against his chest. He could feel the steady beat of her heart pounding into him.

  The robe hung halfway down her shoulders, still held in place by the tie at her waist. His fingers reached for the sash, and he slowly unknotted it.

  A soft sigh spilled from her lips as the sash slipped to the floor, a sweet sound that stirred the air and his arousal. One flick of his finger sent the robe falling, pooling around her feet, and exposing smooth creamy flesh.

  Leaving her wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy white lace panties and the gold heart-shaped necklace at her throat.
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  Pure.

  She looked so pure. Pristine. Perfect.

  He stepped back to admire her in the light. Felt his pulse quicken. Damn, she was beautiful. How had he gotten so lucky?

  Her eyes smiled, gentle and accepting and filled with kindness.

  Ridge rested his hands on her hips, felt her body heat seep through his palms. Holding her steady, he slowly sank to his knees, tasting her with hot, damp, openmouth kisses. Gliding from her pert nipples, to her taut belly, on down.

  God, she was magnificent, with her curvaceous hips, firm thighs, shapely calves, and coltish ankles.

  And scarred hip.

  He drew in a deep breath at the sight of the long, purplish scar, a bifurcating scar that ran from her right hip bone down to the top of her right thigh.

  His heart ached for her. Felt the squeeze of her pain deep within his soul. Life was so damn unfair. Such a wonderful person like Kaia should never have to know this level of misery. More than anything in the world, he wished he could erase the suffering she’d gone through. Make it disappear.

  Tenderly, he pressed his lips to her scar.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, shifting away from him.

  He raised his head. Looked up into her face, saw fear, uncertainty, and hesitation in her eyes. “Does it still hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. I don’t want or need your pity.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “Don’t you?” Her tone turned accusatory.

  “No,” he said, mildly surprised by her reaction. Where was this coming from? “Why would you even think that?”

  She closed her eyes, swallowed visibly.

  “I …” Eyes still squeezed shut, and breathing shallowly, she licked her lips.

  “Yes?” he whispered.

  She shook her head.

  Okay, clearly she wasn’t ready to talk about what was bothering her. She didn’t owe him an explanation. He wouldn’t push her. Letting the topic drop, he went back to kissing her and found his way to where he’d been before, this time avoiding her scar.

  His lips hovered at the waistband of her panties, the last thin barrier of her modesty. He was on his knees now, pressing his face against her, smelling her, the fresh, glorious scent of his woman.