A Cowboy's Woman (20 page)

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Authors: Cathy Gillen Thacker

BOOK: A Cowboy's Woman
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“Definitely pineapple,” Greta said.
Shane laughed softly at their private joke. And then she was surging forward, brushing his chest with her breasts, linking her arms around his neck, and he was finding her with his hands, plunging inside her, commanding everything she had to give. Their mouths mated just as their bodies did, in one long, hot, deliciously passionate, incredibly endless kiss. Then Shane shifted again, so she was beneath him. Wanting everything he had to give, Greta arched and bucked and tightened around him. Wanting to give her everything she needed, everything she had ever wanted, Shane plunged and withdrew and plunged again. Timelessly, seamlessly, until for the first time, Greta knew what it was like to be free, to love someone—really love someone—without restraint.
And for the first time Shane discovered what it was like to love a woman, heart and soul. He hadn't known he could want a woman like this. Hadn't known he could need a woman the way he needed Greta. But he did, he thought, as her climax came, swiftly followed by his.
 
GRETA WOKE TO FIND the bedroom littered with clothes, the sunshine streaming in. The remnants of their post wedding feast and what was left of their “honeymoon kit” were spilled across the table. She had a champagne headache big enough to kill a wild boar. Worse, she'd forgotten to set her alarm, and today was Saturday. Saturday! Which meant the grand opening of her dance hall
was less than ten hours away. She couldn't believe she had been so irresponsible, unexpected wedding or no!
Doing her best to contain a moan of dismay, Greta slipped from a sleeping Shane's arms and headed straight for the shower. Doing her best to save time, Greta filled her toothbrush with toothpaste and stepped under the hot steamy spray. If not for the dime-store wedding ring still on her finger—the one and only accoutrement of a real marriage their mothers had forgotten—Greta might think this whole crazy week was all a dream. But it wasn't a dream. She had only to look down and see her finger was still turning green to know that.
Hastily, Greta finished brushing her teeth, rinsed her mouth, washed and conditioned her hair and soaped her body. The entire process took less than five minutes, and she had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped two thick towels around her—one on her body, one around her hair, when the bathroom door opened. Shane stepped in, clad in nothing but his sexy briefs. Even with very little sleep the previous two nights, he looked wonderful. His tall body was firm and fit. His dark-blond hair was rumpled, his gray eyes sleepy. He was definitely in need of a shave. Then a shower. So why did her pulse pick up and her heart turn cartwheels in her chest just looking at him? Why did, even now, she want nothing more than to make love with him?
To her dismay he took one look at her face and knew she was upset. “Worried about the grand opening of your club tonight?”
More like my heart and my emotional well-being,
Greta thought. But she was not about to tell him she'd been so foolish as to fall head over heels in love with him—when she'd known all along what the deal was, that this was but another one of Shane's legendary escapades
with a dash of unexpected but much-appreciated friendship and some passionate lovemaking thrown in.
She did her best to hide her feelings, watched him fill his own toothbrush and begin to brush his teeth. “That and about a million other things,” she said.
Shane finished brushing his teeth, rinsed and spit. “Such as?” Shane filled his palm with shaving cream. With slow, leisurely strokes, he spread it across his upper lip, face and jaw.
Greta watched Shane begin to shave. She didn't want to discuss any of this, but given how wildly exciting and romantic things had become between them, maybe they'd better. “I was just thinking that I need to find a place for me to live when I leave here in a few weeks,” she replied.
They also needed to fashion a graceful end to their marriage that everyone in the community and their families could accept. Determined to take charge of the situation and her feelings, she looked at him sternly.
“We need a definite end date for this, Shane.” Before she made even more of a fool of herself than she had last night. Dear heaven, when she thought of the wanton way she'd behaved... She would like to blame it all on an excess of champagne or the romantic aura the evening had created, even her long-held fantasy of for one day being a bad girl just to see what it was like. But she couldn't.
She had acted the way she had because she was falling in love with Shane.
What did she mean
falling?
Greta corrected illtemperedly. She was in love with Shane. Head over heels in love with Shane.
“Actually, Greta,” Shane shaved his jaw with long, clean strokes. He met her eyes in the mirror. “I'm wondering why we should end it at all.”
Chapter Ten
“W
hat are you talking about?” Greta asked, her heart leaping into her throat. “Surely you're not considering continuing this sham!”
“You can't deny we're getting to be very good friends. And the sex between us has been great,” Shane pointed out practically as he continued to shave.
It had been more than great, Greta thought wistfully, wrapping the bath towel more snugly around her—as if that would protect her from getting hurt. And if Shane'd said he loved her, or even hinted he might be falling in love with her as madly as she already was with him, then she would have jumped at the opportunity to take their relationship to the absolute limit—to make this marriage of theirs a real one in every sense—in a heartbeat. But the sad truth was, Greta reminded herself firmly, Shane hadn't said any of that, not even when they were making love again and again and again. And she wanted so much more from a mate than passionate sex and blossoming friendship.
Knowing it was time to give herself a much-needed reality check, Greta swallowed hard. “We had a deal, Shane. We were going to stay married approximately
one week or until our parents cried uncle and stopped trying to get us hooked up with someone.”
“And then we extended it for a couple of weeks,” Shane reminded.
“For practical reasons,” Greta pointed out. “So I'd have time to look for a place of my own and wouldn't have to move back in with my folks!”
Shane shrugged, still calm, cool and collected as his gray eyes lasered in on hers. “Now that we've proven we're pretty good house mates, why not just extend it indefinitely?”
He was making this all so logical. She hated it. She wanted tears and laughter and exuberance. She wanted him to shout it to the world and throw his damn hat in the air he was so happy to be in love with her. So happy they'd made love. But that wasn't happening, either. Here he was, turning what had started as one of his escapades into a business deal.
“And why would we want to do that?” Greta said coolly.
Shane finished shaving and rinsed his face with handfuls of water. “Because neither of us is getting any younger.” Shane blotted his face dry with a towel and rinsed his razor with water. He shut off the spigot, then turned to face her. “And neither of us has found his or her soul mate.”
But I have
, Greta thought,
and it's you, Shane.
Knowing she really would cry if they continued this much longer, she brushed by him and went into the bedroom to dress.
He followed her and took both her hands in his, as if possessing them would settle the matter without further dissension. “Because we've discovered that having a spouse who isn't really a spouse in the traditional sense
of the word is our best insurance against any future matchmaking.”
He had her there, Greta thought, as the dagger he'd just stuck in her heart went in a little farther still.
Shane used his grip on her hands to propel her over to sit with him on the edge of the bed. “Because we're both making our home in Laramie, and our marriage makes everyone happy—especially our families,” he continued gently, getting down on one knee in front of her. “Because we like being together.” He ran the tips of his fingers across her bare knee. “And it'll be cheaper to live together than to live apart.” He shrugged and smiled soothingly at her. “The list why you should stay is endless.”
And the list why she shouldn't was even longer, Greta thought.
“So you're suggesting we go on pretending to be married even though in our hearts we're really not?” Greta asked emotionally.
“I'm suggesting that we follow the advice we've been given about making the best of this situation we've gotten ourselves into,” Shane said firmly.
Greta bolted past him and went to find her clothes. Shane followed and leaned against the wall as Greta rummaged through the bureau, emerging with the most austere cotton panties and bra set she owned, then went to the closet and removed a short denim skirt, white T-shirt and embroidered vest.
“And how do we go about making the best of things?” Greta snapped, dropping her towel and beginning to dress.
“Easy.” Shane stepped behind Greta to help her fasten her bra. “We continue to have a hot, lusty love affair with each other, as well as stay married in the legal
sense. Granted, ours wouldn't be the usual marriage,” he continued as she stepped into her panties and then her skirt, “but there is nothing usual about either of us. We've both always marched to the beat of our own drummers. Why change now? Especially if we stay together, because then we won't have to change.”
Greta lifted a gaze to Shane. Even if
he
didn't, she knew they both deserved better. And because they did, because he hadn't said he loved her, or even might be falling in love with her, Greta knew what she had to do. “This is ridiculous, Shane.” She tugged her T-shirt over her head, straightened the hem and neck, slipped on her vest. “We are not staying married.”
Shane gave her a slow, sexy smile, the kind that never failed to make her weak in the knees. “Sure?” He laced his arms around her waist.
Telling herself no way was she falling back into bed with him now, Greta planted a hand across his bare chest and pushed him away. “I insist we stick with our original, amended plan and find a way to give everyone a reason to want our marriage annulled because we clearly are so mismatched.” Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the bathroom, picked up a comb and ran it through the damp strands of her hair.
Shane leaned against the bathroom counter. Greta knew if he came even one step closer, her restraint would vanish. “You can do whatever you want,” he told her in the softest, most seductive voice she'd ever heard. “But as far as I'm concerned, our marriage is a keeper.” He gave her his trademark bad-boy smile. “I see no reason to end what has become a very good thing.”
Greta swallowed, aware her heart was pounding so hard it was ready to leap out of her chest. “So what are
you saying—that you won't give me an annulment?” she asked, amazed.
Shane's face changed abruptly. He regarded her with a mixture of wariness and concern. “Why? So you can go off and be with Beau?”
“You're jealous.” And worse, in some sort of man-to-man competition with Beau.
Shane's jaw clenched. “Let's just say I'm protecting my turf,” he announced flatly.
“I want an annulment!” Greta said emotionally, knowing she had never been close to having her heart tromped to bits than she was at that very moment.
 
SINCE THE FIRST TIME they'd made love, Shane hadn't considered the possibility he would ever have to let her go. He didn't want to consider it now. Drawing on all the scrappiness that had seen him through as the “runt” of the McCabe litter, he braced a hand on either side of her, trapping her against the bathroom counter. “Get this through your head, Greta,” he told her implacably. “That's not gonna happen.”
Not now that I've made you my woman and my wife in every way that counts.
He would use whatever he needed to buy whatever time she needed to make him her man and her husband.
Greta regarded him mutinously. “And why not?”
The one thing Shane had never been comfortable with was his own vulnerability. And he was damn vulnerable when it came to Greta. She had his heart in her fist and didn't even know it. Shane survived the uncomfortable sensation the way he always had, by hiding his true feelings under the guise of something else—something easily disdained—like ego. “Because Bucklehead Chamberwaist isn't the only one with the hunky reputation to lose in this,” he retorted gruffly.
Greta's eyes sparked blue fire. Her lower lip slid out in a most-kissable fashion. “I know how you like to win, Shane, how you like to come out. on top,” she told him hotly. She shoved past him and stormed out of the bathroom. Hands balled into fists at her sides, she whirled to face him “But this is about more than your ego, Shane. A lot more.”
Shane nodded, aware he'd never been more afraid of losing someone in his life. “You're damn right it is,” he said, feeling both hurt and furious she could act this, way—like she was just itching to be free of him—after the two nights they'd spent together. And the very real vows they'd taken the night before. She might not have taken them seriously, but he sure as heck had. And he wasn't giving up on them now. Not yet.
“You're my wife now, Greta,” Shane told her sternly, wishing they could just go back to bed, spend the entire day there and forget all this. “And you're staying my wife!”
“Oh, really?” Greta shook her head, damp silky strands flying in every direction.
“Really,” Shane said.
“Well, we'll just see about that,” Greta murmured hotly and stormed out.
 
“ARE YOU TRYING TO HANG those streamers or strangle them?” Beau asked, a scant hour later. Greta looked through the open front doors of the Lone Star Dance Hall, at the wait staff busily setting up the tables for the opening that evening, as per her direction. All were out of earshot. Deciding she needed more tape to do this right, she climbed halfway back down the ladder, so she and was nearly at Beau's eye level. “You were right,” Greta sighed, glad he'd stopped by to check on her once
again. “It's all been an illusion. What Shane and I have, well—” Greta bit her lip uncertainly “—I don't know what it is, but it's no marriage.” They'd been as foolish as actors in a movie, who confused what they were pretending to feel for their romantic lead with what they really did feel in real life.
Beau tore off two pieces of tape, then handed them to her. “Did you tell him?” Beau watched as Greta carefully folded, then applied, the tape to the back of the streamers.
“I tried. He won't listen.” Feeling more dejected than ever, Greta climbed back up the ladder.
“He doesn't want to believe that he too, could have been mistaken about what he was feeling?” Beau asked gently as he continued to lend a hand with the red, white and blue streamers.
Worse
. Greta stuck the streamers where she wanted them, then pressed hard to make sure the tape stuck to the wall just above the front door. “He doesn't want to let me go,” she announced grimly. “Male pride. He thinks if he does he'll be bowing to you, and he's not about to hand me over to you.”
When she was halfway back down the ladder, Beau grasped her waist and swung her back down to the ground. “Did you tell him how it was with us?”
“Yes.” Greta frowned, thinking back to the emotional scene that morning in their bedroom, even as she studied the Grand Opening sign she and Beau had tacked up above the double front doors. “But he's been hurt that way before.” She sighed, feeling even more discouraged and disgruntled.
Beau's brow furrowed as Greta picked up the big red satin ribbon with the bow in the center and prepared to string it across the front door in preparation for the ribbon-cutting
ceremony later that evening. A ceremony she wasn't even sure Beau would attend.
Beau helped her unfurl the ribbon carefully. “What do you mean? Left by a woman for some other guy?”
Cuckolded
was how Shane'd put it. Cheated on. Betrayed in the worst possible way. Greta nodded, feeling weary from the top of her head to the soles of her feet in a way that had nothing to do with her lack of sleep. “So he doesn't believe me when I tell him I'm not going straight back to you.”
“There must be something you can do to convince him not to want to be married to you,” Beau said matter-of-factly.
It might have been easier if she weren't so foolishly head over heels in love with him and he so in lust with her, Greta thought cynically. Didn't Shane understand that passion alone would fade? That nothing was as simple as it seemed on the surface, especially marriage? Didn't he understand that the longer this went on—without them
both
being in love with each other—the stronger the likelihood they'd
both
be hurt before it was all over?
“Some way you can turn him off permanently,” Beau said.
“Yes,” Greta said slowly, as inspiration hit her with all the force of a Mack truck. “There is.” She turned her bright eyes to Beau, suddenly seeing a fast way out. “But I'm going to need your help,” she told him determinedly.
Beau put his arm around her shoulders. “Anything.”
Relief poured through Greta as she realized her time in this marriage—with her loving fiercely and not being loved in return—was about to come to an end. She wrapped her arm about Beau's waist and looked up at
him. “When you show up at the grand opening tonight,” she whispered in strictest confidence, “here's what I want you to do....”
 
SEVERAL BLOCKS AWAY Shane sat on an examining table in the emergency room.

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