Beware of the Cowboy (5 page)

As the two men stood together, Blake noticed that his
father’s eyes roamed the room constantly, but always landed back on his mother.
The woman wore her hair in an outdated puffy uplift of some sort, her clothes
were bright—no,
loud
—and she was outspoken and funny, all in stark
contrast to the man standing next to him. Gerald Dean was a quiet, intellectual
cowboy, wearing a tuxedo with pugs on the pants.

Liza walked across the far end of the tent. Gerald chuckled
as Blake watched her every move. “You know, son, when I met your mother, I
thought to myself, ‘Now that’s a fine-looking woman’.” He glanced at his son
and back to Bobbie. She was laughing, the sound of her joy rising above the
music. “But, once I kissed her, well…let’s just say I was hooked. I asked her
to marry me on our second date. Haven’t looked back since.”

Blake nodded, understanding. He’d known last night he was
hooked and Liza DeLane would be his. He was tired of the manipulative games of
most of the Dallas society set. He loved reading history books and fancied that
his dating life was not very different from that of some duke in regency
England, except in his case, instead of delicate flowers, society mommas pushed
their over-bleached, fake-boobed daughters at him every chance they got. Many
of the older, married socialites had thrown
themselves
at him as well.
He was tired of the superficiality and the not-so-secret agendas of the Dallas
elite. He wanted the real thing. Wanted to look at his wife years from now and
have the same look of satisfaction his father carried.

He looked over to Liza again—there was no denying he wanted
her
.

“That one,” Gerald gestured toward Liza with his beer
bottle. “I’ve worked with her for five, maybe six years now. I’ve never seen
that woman let one little detail fall through the cracks. That’s why we’ve done
so much business with her. She controls everything and everyone around her.
Damn fine qualities for a business partner.”

Blake pulled his hat off, ran a hand through his hair then
shoved his hat back down. Gerald kept talking, ignoring his son’s sudden
discomfort. “A woman needs that kind of control for a reason, son. Doesn’t
matter what it is. If you want to get past it, you’re going to have to show her
she can trust you. Yep. That one needs to trust her man. Chocolate hearts and
flowers aren’t going to do it.”

Blake set his beer down and put his hands in his pockets,
shuffling his feet before picking the beer back up and taking a long, slow
swig. He rocked back on his heels and rubbed his chin, before turning back to
his father. The man hadn’t changed in Blake’s eyes in all these years. His
complexion was as dark as Blake’s regardless of time spent in the office, but
his eyes were steel blue instead of dark brown. He was still well built from
his time working on the ranch. The only thing that truly showed his age was a
hint of gray hair at the temples and a few lines that outlined his eyes. Blake
admired him on so many levels and trusted his judgment. “And how do I do that?”

“Haven’t got a clue.” He laughed as his son’s face fell.
“It’ll come to ya, boy.” He clapped him on the shoulder and headed toward the
crowd and a dancing Bobbie Dean.

* * * * *

“You know, I’ve been trying to catch the eye of a very hot
woman this evening and she’s pretty much ignored me.”

Liza didn’t have to turn to know who that rugged voice
belonged to. He moved up behind her. The heat from his body out-burned the
humid Texas night, his breath a mere flutter across the little hairs on the
back of her neck. She should walk away now, while there was time to keep Blake
Dean at a comfortable distance, while she still had her control. Having him
this close made her palms sweat, her body hum. The logical part of her brain
protested, urged her to turn and run for the hills, but her body had firmly
decided to stay where it was.

She giggled. “The woman’s a certifiable fool. My suggestion,
cowboy…ditch her, and let’s you and me go see what’s in that garden.”

He leaned down and pressed a single wispy kiss to her neck.
“Do I get to take that hair down?”

She smiled and tipped her head to the side, giving him
better access. “You’re easy to please.”

Warm, soft lips skimmed her neck as he made his way to her
ear. Goose bumps spread over her back, making her tighten her grip on her
champagne glass.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” The low, gravel-filled taunt made
her close her eyes.

No, he’d not be easy to please. And Liza didn’t think she
could give him what he would ultimately want.

* * * * *

It had been a year or so since he’d even been in his old
room. His mother had redecorated it, but many of his old things were still
there. Team roping buckles and football trophies accented the bookshelves and
the college portrait still hung above his desk. He ushered Liza past the old
photos, pushed open the French doors that opened onto a balcony and was pleased
to find the furniture still there. He led her out and watched her face as she
took in the view.

Below them, across two formal gardens and a swimming pool,
the party was still in full swing. Far enough away that they were completely
alone, but close enough that they could se the twinkling lights of the gazebo
and the tents. And beyond that lay only big, open Texas sky, an ocean of
midnight purple and sparkling stars no amount of party planning could have
conjured. The band had switched to sultry jazz that drifted in the humid air.
Blake set down the bottle of champagne and glasses he’d grabbed on their way up
as Liza moved to the rail.

Blake moved in closely behind her, wrapping his arms around
her waist. “I loved hanging out on this balcony when I was younger.”

Liza stiffened. He’d grown up with all this. She’d been
shuffled from foster home to foster home, never knowing where she’d be dumped
or when. She leaned back, laying her head on his chest and squeezing her eyes
shut, attempting to relax. He pressed closer, his body warm and solid behind
hers. She fit there perfectly against his chest. Her ear rested just over his
heart. She wanted this, wanted
him
. She just didn’t know how to let
herself believe in it, believe in him without the overwhelming fear.

Blake felt her tremble against him. Never had he felt such a
strong connection with a woman. He didn’t completely understand it, but he knew
that he and Liza were in it for the long haul. He just needed to settle the
filly down enough to convince her of that.

“Tell me Liza,” Blake asked as he stroked her hair. “What is
it that makes you push so hard?”

Liza gave him a questioning look over her shoulder.

“Dad tells me you’re a perfectionist. I see it too. I also
see a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes. Who hurt you?” He felt her stiffen
at his words, and kissed her head and ran his fingers over her shoulders to ease
her, to let her know he was with her. He didn’t want to scare her. He needed
her to open to him. He wanted her to trust, to let herself go completely.

The feel of her body against him was heaven. His father was
right. He had no problem imagining that years from now he would be the one
smiling over a dance floor as Liza danced. Know that he would still be as in
love as he felt right this minute. He didn’t understand how it could be so
strong so fast, but he trusted it. Blake had always trusted his gut instincts.
Following his gut had never once let him down. He was not about to ignore it
this time.

He ran his fingers up her arms, raising goose bumps on her
skin and drawing a small shudder from her. Those reactions to his touch pleased
him greatly.

“What is it Liza wants out of life?”

Liza looked back over her shoulder, surprised by the
inquiry. “That’s a hard thing to answer.”

“Try.” He didn’t ask. His tone commanded her to think on it
and answer.

She shifted her weight, brushing her ass against his strong
thighs. They both shuddered slightly at the movement. It didn’t help her
concentration. “Well, I want what most people want.” She knew that would not be
enough for him.

He brushed the back of her neck with those big fingers and
followed the sensation with a light brush of the lips. “But you’re not most
people. Tell me what you want.”

Liza had to draw in a deep breath to concentrate. Her
thoughts were all spinning around in her head and she was unable to draw a
single thing out. Warm lips then traced the curve of her shoulder. She had to
lean farther into him to steady her knees.

“Family, children?” he asked, the words a breath on her
skin.

“To feel safe.”

Blake froze at the simple three-word response. It touched
him. The pleading in her voice told him things that days of conversation would
never reveal. He knew she had some issues with her past and worked hard to make
sure she was financially independent and strong, but she wanted protection and
love more than money—and he was just the man to provide both.

He’d fantasized about pushing Liza DeLane’s buttons, but he
hadn’t imagined trust would be the biggest. Not only a need to trust him to be
there for her, but also to trust him to understand her need for control. And he
needed to push a little at that trust. To let her see that if she put herself
in his hands, she’d not only be okay, but there were pleasant rewards for such
trust. It would take time, but he was patient and he had an idea. Wild fillies
were his expertise.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Get another glass of the bubbly.”
He retreated before she had a chance to argue.

Liza poured another glass, knowing she shouldn’t. She
shouldn’t be drinking anymore and shouldn’t be putting herself in a position
for disappointment with the unpredictable Blake Dean. Cursing her lack of
willpower over either, she sipped and listened to the echoes of laughter and
music from the party in the distance.

Liza knew he’d returned when she felt his heat behind her
once again. His arms came around her and his hands gripped the metal of the
balcony railing. “Put the glass down and place your hands on the rail.” His
voice was calm, authoritative and provocative, all driving her senses in
different directions. She giggled in order not to immediately obey his command.

Blake took the glass from her and set in on the table. He
resumed his position, in effect trapping her against the rail. “I’ll try again.
Take off your clothes.” This time it was whispered against her neck. Liza
quivered at his command and was unable or unwilling to resist. She took her
time unbuttoning her jacket and shirt, before pushing them over her shoulders
and letting them fall to the ground. He stayed still. She reached back and the
skirt button and zipper were undone next. She let them fall to the ground as
well and shoved the pile over to the side with her foot. She stood facing the
yard in nothing but her thigh highs and heels.

“Put your hands on the rail.” He stood stock-still, not
getting any closer or moving any farther away. The anticipation was a physical
stroke she could feel between her legs. She tentatively put one hand on the
rail to see what his response would be.

Liza gasped as he leaned close and traced the line of her
jaw with a hot, flat tongue. He hovered at her ear, slow, warm breaths also
sending signals to her increasingly wet pussy. Unable to stand the
anticipation, she placed her other hand on the rail.

“Hmmm.” He growled and nipped at her ear. He let go of the
railing and reached around her, placing his big hands on her thighs. One after
another, hot, wet kisses trailed down her neck. As his lips moved down, his
hands slowly moved up her thighs.

“Blake…” Liza let go and turned, running her hands up his
chest and burying them in his hair. She wanted him, to touch him, to fuck him.

“No, baby.” He took her hands from his chest. “Shh.” He
turned her back toward the party and replaced her hands on the rail. “You just
feel. That’s your only job tonight. I’ll take care of everything else.” He ran
his fingers down her backbone.

Liza had to fight the urge to turn again and take control.
That’s what this was all about. She knew that now. She looked over her shoulder
as she gripped the metal. He understood it too. With every commanding move, he
was teaching her to trust him, to see that if he took control, things would
still be okay. He wanted her to understand that his control could be a very
pleasurable thing.

Biting back a surge of fear, she gripped the rail harder,
looked out into the night and bent forward slightly in invitation. Blake drew
in a heavy breath, understanding her acceptance. She jerked when he draped a
scrap of fabric over her head, moving it down to trail over her breasts before
lifting it to cover her eyes. She shuffled her feet and tightened her grip on
the railing.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered as he kissed the side of her
face.

Those three words, somehow so intimate, soothed and
reassured her. Searing kisses traced down her spine. She stepped away from the
rail, bending deeply at the waist in response to the varying pressures and
tickles of his lips and tongue. He hesitated, lingered over the dimples above
her ass and trailing little circles between them. She moaned as he grasped the
cheeks of her ass in his rough hands and squeezed. Her fingers started to
tingle, numb from holding on so tightly.

“Easy, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need a death
grip.”

Liza relaxed her grip, her body so ready, her mind spinning
in turmoil. She heard the soft whisper of jeans as he sank to his knees, could
feel the humid night air moving around them, hear the partiers and the music.
“Please, Blake.”

“What do you want, Liza?” The words were a warm breath on
her pussy. He was right there.

“Oh God!” The teasing was too much. The lack of visual input
enhancing her other senses for too much. The abandonment of control was too
much. She groaned, pushing back toward him and brushing her wet flesh against
his face. His tongue flicked over her clit just a few times before she
shattered. The stars in the endless Texas sky could not compare to the lights
she saw behind that blindfold.