A Cowboy for Christmas Page 17

  “It’s only braggin’ if you can’t back it up, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart.

  That simple word stilled something inside her. As if a loudly ticking clock had suddenly stopped, leaving everything in mysterious silence.

  “Hmm. We’ll see.”

  “You seem skeptical.”

  “I know how men like to blow smoke—”

  “There you go with blanket statements. Don’t reduce me to a label, Lissy.”

  She liked it that he was no longer coddling her as he’d done the first two days he’d been here. The kid gloves were off. He no longer treated her like a victim of circumstances. Not the widow of a soldier. Not the mother of a deaf child. But a woman. He was challenging her, teasing her, showing her another side of his personality, and she liked it.

  A lot.

  She woke Kyle up and fed him breakfast, and then put in an Elmo DVD for him to watch. She hated using the television set for a babysitter, but they wouldn’t get anything done with him crawling all over them.

  “Turn on the closed captioning for him,” Rafferty suggested.

  “He can’t read yet.”

  “No, but it’s a good habit to get into.”

  He was right.

  Just as when they’d Skyped Guillermo, Lissette had to sit right beside him so they could both see the computer screen. His delicious masculine scent invaded her nose, took her hostage with its pleasant potency, and his shoulder—mother of all things holy—his broad shoulder brushed lightly against her arm as he leaned over and tapped a URL into the search box on the browser.

  Lissette gulped, closed her eyes, tried to fight off the heat twining through her at the lightness of his touch. It should not feel this good. She should not be making such a big deal out of innocent body contact.

  “There we go,” he said, and leaned away, giving her some breathing room.

  Yes. That was better. No touching.

  Why then did she feel robbed?

  The computer screen filled with a high-tech video of a man riding a horse. Not just any man, she realized, but Rafferty decked out in full cowboy regalia—Levi’s, cowboy boots, double-yoked plaid shirt, chaps, and a lariat slung over the horn of the horse’s saddle.

  Seeing him like that made her heart go pitter-pat. She so loved the sight of a cowboy at work. Here was her secret fantasy, the one she’d thought she was getting when she married Jake too soon after meeting him.

  Those romantic notions had led her astray before. It was nothing but a myth. Still, she couldn’t shake the way he made her feel. Turned on and ashamed of it. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, shot him a sideways glance and caught him looking at her.

  His stare was steadfast, curious.

  Quickly, she yanked her gaze back to the screen.

  The Web site was slick and polished. It looked like a professional Web designer had done it. Rafferty’s voice narrated the recording. He spoke of his techniques for training horses. How he eschewed rough training practices in favor of a gentle touch. Lissette fell into the narrative. His pitch made her long to visit the ranch. She wanted to ride horses, to teach Kyle to ride.

  “You built this site yourself?” she asked in awe.

  “Yup.”

  “How did you learn how to do it?”

  “When I first started, I was on a shoestring budget. It’s amazing what you can learn when you put your mind to it.”

  “Where did you learn HTML?”

  “Self-taught. Got books from the library.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”

  “There’s plenty of things I don’t know how to do, but I learn best by breaking things down to their basic components in order to reassemble them. Take things one step at a time and it will all work out.”

  “You’re detail oriented.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “I’m more big picture. I imagine what I want, then start making it happen. Like with a cake. I visualize the finished product, then I backtrack from there to find the steps to get to where I need to be.”

  “Organic,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your process. You’re more organic. I’m step-by-step. You let things happen as they come.”

  Lissette dared to meet his eyes again. She was getting into this deeper with every passing moment and the thing of it was, she liked it. Liked being with Rafferty. Liked his approach. Liked the way he made her feel.

  And that’s what was so upsetting.

  “Let’s get down to brass tacks,” he said. “You visualize what you want your Web site to look like and I’ll get you a URL and we’ll progress from there.”

  An hour and a half later, they were deeply into setting up Lissette’s Web site. Rafferty had already completed the basic template design and they were going through the trial and error process of finding the right images and color scheme. Lissette had kept a photograph portfolio of the pastries she baked, so now it was about showcasing her work in the best possible light.

  They tried out different color combinations. She’d point to the palette and he’d put it up. Then one or the other of them would shake their heads, and he would discard it.

  If she were doing something like this with Jake, they would have been bickering constantly as he would have questioned every decision she made until she just gave in and let Jake have his way. But Rafferty tried out everything she suggested without offering an opinion first. He patiently allowed her to experiment and stretch her wings.

  And then she went and spoiled the peace by noticing how they were breathing in tandem, simultaneously pulling in air, letting it out in slow, steady exhales. Calm. His breathing not only calmed her, but regulated hers.

  The rhythm was hypnotic. Sexual. Almost like foreplay.

  She was taking on his breathing pattern. Letting him lead the way, just as she always had with Jake. Rafferty’s way was more subtle, but clearly more insidious. He might not be outwardly trying to control her, but she had surrendered her power to him all the same.

  Disconcerted, Lissette broke the pattern. She held her breath, waiting to exhale when he was inhaling.

  Rafferty stopped breathing too. He looked over at her, his stare startling, bold, and intimate. A sharp crackling of erotic energy shot from him to her and back again. The hairs on her forearm lifted. She shifted on the couch cushion, trying to put some distance between them. He was too close. Things were moving much too fast. She did not want to be on this thrill ride after all. She let her gaze drift back to the computer screen, assessing the latest mock-up.

  “Looking good,” he murmured, but he was not studying her homepage. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. He was studying her. “Real good.”

  Those last words were spoken so softly, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  Real good.

  Closing her eyes, she willed herself not to shiver, but quickly opened them again. “Nice.”

  He reached out and put a hand on her knee. His touch seemed to burn right through her pants and she felt him as acutely as if he’d stroked her bare skin.

  “I need to stretch my legs,” he said. “Clear my head. I’m getting cross-eyed staring at the computer screen. You want something to drink?”

  She nodded.

  He stretched, lifting his arms over his head. His shirt rose up, revealing a peek at his tanned, muscular torso, and her mouth went instantly dry. It was probably because all the moisture in her body was pooling in a fine stream of perspiration between her breasts. The room wasn’t hot, but the man in front of her surely was.

  The Elmo DVD had finished and the television screen was blank. Kyle had fallen asleep on the floor, his thumb in his mouth. She thought about moving him to his bed; he’d probably wake up in the process. No harm letting him finish his nap on the floor.

  Rafferty came back from the kitchen with two cans of Dr Pepper. She didn’t drink soda a lot, but she had it on hand because one of the offerings in h
er Texas-theme bakery menu was a Dr Pepper pecan praline cupcake. Dr Pepper had been invented in Waco, Texas, and made for a supremely moist cake.

  He popped the pull top from the can and walked across the living room toward her. He moved with an easy-legged lope that came across as a slow pace, but was surprisingly brisk.

  The soda was cold and damp in her hand. She took a sip. It was very sweet, but refreshing, and she drank it faster than she should have. Without ever taking his eyes off her, Rafferty tilted his head and took a long swallow from his Dr Pepper.

  Her gaze tracked from his lips to throat. She watched his Adam’s apple work, and this time, she shivered. Perspiring one minute, shivering the next. Was she coming down with something?

  Anxiously, she shifted her attention away from him, looking for something else to focus on. She surveyed the Web site.

  It looked simple and beige and . . .

  Stark.

  He’d used the color palette she’d selected. This wasn’t his fault, but hers.

  “What’s the matter,” Rafferty asked, coming to sit back down beside her.

  “It’s blah.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I assumed you were going for the crisp, professional look—clean lines, fresh, classic. Something that will make your photographs pop when we get them all uploaded.”

  “The Web site looks so generic. Like it could be any Web page. I want it to be warm and welcoming and inviting.”

  “Like you,” he said huskily. “You were playing it safe when what you really wanted was to let your personality shine through.”

  “Yeah.” She ran her palms over the tops of her thighs. “That’s it.”

  “No problem,” Rafferty said. “I can change it in an instant. Speak up, Lissy. Tell me what you really want. I’m listening.”

  “You don’t mind changing it?”

  “Why would I mind?”

  “I’m wasting your time—”

  “Shh. Consider my time as your time. What do you really want?” he asked, challenge in his eyes.

  She gnawed her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

  He took her by the shoulders and turned her on the couch to face him. He placed his hand over her heart. It thumped erratically. She was sure he could tell exactly how much he affected her. Who could miss the wild galloping?

  “Listen to your instincts,” he murmured.

  “Yellow,” she said. “I really like yellow. It’s bright and cheery, but Jake didn’t like it so he wouldn’t let me paint the kitchen yellow. He said it was too bright. He didn’t want the walls looking like one of those yellow smiley face stickers.”

  “Yellow it is.” Rafferty tapped a few commands on the keyboard and boom.

  Sunflower yellow replaced the beige. Just looking at the color made her smile.

  “What contrasting colors do you want?” he asked.

  “Green.”

  “Any particular shade?”

  “Olive.”

  The color appeared on the page and it looked so great she hugged herself.

  “Considering these colors I have a suggestion for the font, but if you don’t like it, please say so.”

  “Okay.”

  He changed the font color from black to a dark, rich burgundy. The combination of those colors transported Lissette back to the Loire Valley French kitchen where Madame Boulanger had taken the students for a two-week field trip during Lissette’s pastry school education. Those two weeks had been some of the happiest of her life and she’d almost forgotten about them. Now, every time she looked at her Web site, she could remember the happy woman she’d once been.

  “I love it!” She put her palms together. “L. O. V. E. Love it.”

  “Keep in mind I can always change it if you don’t.”

  “No. Leave it.” She put a restraining hand on his wrist and instantly regretted it. Every time they touched, something deep inside her unraveled a little bit more.

  “Yes, ma’am. Let me know exactly what you want.” He laughed, and the sound made her feel warm and toasty right down to her toes.

  His grin was cocky and his eyes glistening with the same out-of-control impulses that were simmering through her blood. He leaned closer. She did not shy away.

  “If we were in a romantic movie,” Rafferty said. “This would be the point where I’d kiss you.”

  “But this isn’t a movie.”

  Their gazes fused.

  “No.

  “And you’re not going to kiss me.”

  He leaned forward until his lips were almost touching hers. “I’m not going to kiss you.

  “That’s very good,” she said, “because it’s not like this relationship could go anywhere.”

  “I know.”

  “You do want to kiss me,” she said. “Admit it.”

  “Woman,” he murmured, “you have absolutely no idea how much.”

  A thrill blitzed down her spine. His warm breath tickled her skin. He smelled so good Lissette could scarcely remember her name.

  You can’t let Rafferty kiss you. You mustn’t let him kiss you. This cannot happen.

  She raised her hands and clutched them together in front of her chest, building a barrier between them. It was weak, but it was all she could come up with.

  “Please . . .” she whispered, meaning to add don’t, but her throat was so tight and his eyes were so dark and she was caught up in the strange magic surging between them.

  “You’re vulnerable,” he said. “I want to kiss you so much I can’t stand it, but I don’t want to take advantage.”

  Take advantage of me. Please!

  “And I seem to have this need to protect vulnerable people. It’s probably not a healthy situation. You and I.”

  “You’re just as vulnerable as I am, Rafferty Jones. It couldn’t have been easy for you coming here.”

  “I don’t shirk my duties.”

  “And I’m a duty?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Do you think . . .” Lissette paused, cleared her throat. “That if we’d met in some other way, before I met Jake, that we would have been attracted to each other?”

  “Lissy.” He breathed. “There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind.”

  She touched Rafferty’s shoulder.

  He looked at her and their gazes merged.

  She felt everything all at once.

  It was like an earthquake rocking her chest, lust and chemistry, longing and yearning, guilt and loneliness. Hunger and sadness and hope. It fell in on her, heavy and warm and too much too soon, and at the same time, not nearly enough.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  His gaze was like a lightning strike.

  Her lips tingled.

  He cupped his palm under her chin and tilted her head, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She stiffened. Wanting to taste him but terrified of where all this was leading.

  He dropped his hand.

  No! her body protested.

  Compelled by a force she couldn’t understand or explain, Lissette leaned in toward him. She just knew that she had to kiss him or die, but it wasn’t in her nature to act so boldly. She was accustomed to finding roundabout ways to meet her needs. She couldn’t bring herself to initiate the kiss, but she could make him kiss her.

  Brazenly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.

  He arched his eyebrow, making sure he understood what she was asking. Are you sure?

  She swallowed, moistened her lips. Nodded.

  His eyes lighted up and a smile tipped his mouth. It was like watching a drawbridge drop, and behind the door of the fortress, hidden beneath the strong, silent cowboy persona, lurked a heartbreaking tenderness. This man cared deeply about the world, and it hurt him that he couldn’t cure all the ills of it.

  “Sweet Lissy,” he murmured, and lowered his head.

  Her pulse skipped.

  The kiss was quiet, languid, and deep. He took slow opportunity to taste
and smell and feel. His tongue drew a hungry response so acute that she felt like she was falling through time and space.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, hung on to him, increasing the pressure.

  He kissed her harder, deeper, and more intensely.

  The taste of him! Like sunflowers and rainbows and clouds on a soft summer day. It was as if she knew every part of him—a weary traveler returning home from a long, arduous journey.

  While the world shrank down into the minute width of mouths, she opened herself up to possibilities as yet undreamed. She was completely disarmed. With any other man the stunning intimacy and astonishing sensuality would have unbalanced her, but with Rafferty everything was different.

  Her lips shuddered against his mouth and her body molded to his.

  His hands roved over her spine and she strained into him, her breasts crushed against his chest as he fell back against the couch. In his arms, she felt not only incredibly sexual, but oddly at peace. A peaceful roller coaster. Was there such a thing?

  She had to ask herself some hard questions. Was she attracted to him simply because her life was falling apart and he seemed to know exactly how to put her back together again? In her need to find her way in this new chapter of her life, was she grasping at straws? Was she mistakenly reading something into these impulses that wasn’t really there? Was she confusing sexual desire for something more substantial? How could she even be thinking such things about a man she’d known only a little over a week?

  Lissette dithered, caught between doubt and desire. She did not like this push-pull of emotions. For years, she’d been living life on autopilot, melding with Jake’s wishes, putting on a pleasant face, getting through life by putting things in soft focus. She always did what felt safe, but the power of her attraction to Rafferty drove home that she’d done so at the price of her independence. That’s what scared her most. This arousal of the self buried deep within her.

  Panicked, Lissette pressed a hand to his chest, pushed away from him, broke the embrace. “We have to stop.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”

  But he did not.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rafferty didn’t mean to claim her mouth so roughly or insistently. Hell, he hadn’t meant to kiss her at all, at least not initially, but when she’d taken that step toward him, his restraint had dropped away and he’d just acted.