How to Lasso a Cowboy (10 page)

There would be a slim selection of wagons left if the old buggy had been their best choice before. And she'd have to rig it herself, for the Andrews clan had been among the first to show up at the ball. By midafternoon Cooper had no doubt the children were instructed to eat their weight in food.

When he stepped into the livery, the sound of someone crying drifted around him seeming to come from no particular direction. For a moment, he thought it might be one of the Andrews kids who had been accidentally left behind.

He moved closer, hearing the jingle of his muddy spurs blend with the sobbing. Pausing, Cooper let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

Finally he spotted Mary, curled into a ball, arms hugging her knees, head down, hair wild around her shoulders. She was sitting in the back of a wagon that would have taken both a carpenter and a blacksmith a week to get in even fair shape to travel.

Cooper waited, knowing that if he took one step toward her the spurs would frighten her. “Evening, Miss Woodburn,” he said slowly. “Nice day for a ride.”

Mary's head shot up. Bright blue-gray eyes sparkled on a muddy face. When she spotted him in the doorway, she quickly shoved a tear, along with caked dirt, across her cheek.

Cooper couldn't help but laugh. “You look like a mud doll.”

Mary grinned back. “You don't look much better.”

He smoothed a layer of muck off his duster. “And I got all dressed up for the country ball.”

“Me too. Miles said I had to go for Winnie's sake, but my efforts to dress were wasted. I fell twice running toward town, trying to beat the rain. I'd hoped to find a rig that might make it out of the barn, but I've failed. Miles is stuck out on the road, unable—”

“He's on his way to my ranch,” Cooper interrupted. “I'm supposed to bring you along.”

“I'm not going.” She stared down at her clothes. “It's impossible.”

“Then the party will come to you.” Cooper took a step forward. “I don't care if I return or not. The whole thing is a hoax. After everyone stuffs themselves a few more times and dances a couple of rounds, they'll probably raffle me off to the highest bidder.”

“Oh. You think you'll go for a good price?”

“Of course. If you don't count the undertaker, who owns his own business, I'm the most eligible bachelor in this part of the state.” He laughed at his own lie. “I'm sure I'll go to the girl whose father can send the most acres along with his daughter's hand.”

Helping Mary out of the wagon, he added, “You look mighty pretty, Miss Woodburn.” To his surprise, he meant it. “Would you like to dance before I'm hog-tied and carted off to the altar?”

“I hate to turn a man down whose freedom is now counted in hours.”

He pulled her into his arms before she could say more, holding her far closer than he would have dared to in public. With her feet barely touching the ground, they twirled around the hay-covered floor as though they were at a grand ball.

When he slowed the dance, he realized she was soaked and shivering. In one swing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the door. “Do you trust me, Mary?”

“I think I finally do.”

“Then, let's get you into some dry clothes and try dancing again on my barn floor with music playing. We'll both catch pneumonia if we stay in this drafty place much longer.”

Before she questioned, he ran into the rain toward her store. By the time she unlocked the door they were both newly soaked.

Laughing for no reason other than it felt good, he followed her upstairs. Cooper hesitated only a moment when he reached the threshold.

She crossed into the darkness and returned a moment later to hand him a dry towel. “Come in by the fire. I'll change.” She hurried across the room and disappeared behind a door.

Cooper stood in the center of the small apartment and scrubbed the water from his face. Then he stirred up the fire and looked around the room. Hundreds of books lined the walls and art, fine art, blanketed every inch of space left. He knew, without having to ask, that these were the few, final treasures of what once must have been a grand home. He'd always thought of Southerners coming home to only the crumbs left of their former lives. He never thought of Northerners losing everything in the war.

Slowly, he realized what a joke it must have been for him to loan her books. She probably grew up with a real library in her house.

He pulled off his duster and damp coat, hanging them over chairs to dry. Unlike the store, the apartment above was neat, orderly, with a once valuable rug adding a warmth that made the small place a home.

He saw what must be Miles's room across from Mary's closed door. Maps and charts covered the walls of his chamber. A cot was crammed into one corner, making room for a huge desk weighted with books and papers.

“Your brother studying something?” he yelled toward the closed door.

Mary's muffled answer returned, “He wants to write a book about the battles in the war. He's already written several articles that sold back east.”

“And spent all the money on more books,” Cooper guessed.

“I'm afraid so.” Mary could barely be heard. “But it will all be worth it once he's published.”

Cooper couldn't bring himself to invade Woodburn's private space. He never would have guessed the cold man would have such a secret.

Mary's door opened, shining more light into the room. Cooper turned and watched her move about.

“I'll put on some tea.” Nervousness shook her words. “We can drink it while my hair dries.” She crossed into the tiny square of a kitchen and poured water into a pot.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Against her robe, he could see the outline of her body and the grace in each movement. She didn't belong in faded dresses.

After she handed him a cup of tea, she pulled a stool close to the fire and began brushing her hair dry in the warm air.

Cooper had seen his sisters do the same thing a thousand times, but as Mary dried her long chestnut mane, he couldn't stop staring.

“I'll only take a few minutes,” she apologized when she looked up.

“Take a lifetime,” he whispered. “It's beautiful to watch.”

Mary laughed. “If we're to be friends, Mr. Adams, you can't tease me. I'm fully aware that I'm plain. Miles says when we save enough money we can go back east and I'll become a schoolmarm. He says I have the look of one already.”

“You could teach school here,” he said more to
himself than her as he moved to the chair behind her stool.

She went back to pulling the brush through her hair.

“Mary, why'd you ask me to kiss you the other night?” he inquired after several minutes of silence.

“I don't know.” She didn't look at him. “Maybe I just wanted to know how it felt.”

“My kiss or any kiss?”

“Yours.” She stared into the embers. “I was kissed once and didn't like it. I thought that if you kissed me then I wouldn't think of it as being something ugly.”

She rose to her feet. “The rain sounds like it may have stopped. I should change.”

He stood, blocking her path. “Do you think I could try again? On the kiss, I mean.”

She stared at him with her wonderful, expressive eyes. He saw a question, but no fear. They'd finally gotten beyond her fright.

“No.” She shook her head, letting her curls tumble around her shoulders. “It is kind of you to ask, but . . .”

“I'm not being kind.” He swept a strand away from her cheek. “I'm being honest. There is nothing I'd like more than to kiss you right now.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek as he had almost a week ago. When she didn't retreat, he cupped her chin with his fingers.

His mouth swept over hers, forever erasing the bruising kiss she'd once endured. Mary had read about such a kiss. She'd dreamed about it, but she never thought anyone would kiss her so. She closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail.

“More?” he whispered across her lips.

“More,” she answered and rested her hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

This time, he leaned closer, his warm lips caressing her throat before he ventured to her mouth. She couldn't hold back the sigh that escaped as he found her lips once more. Never, not for one minute in her life, had she ever felt beautiful, but she felt so now.

A sensation of being cherished washed over her, filling the very depth of her soul. Her lifetime would now be measured in the before and after of this one moment. She'd never be the same. In the twilight hours she would think of this and at dawn, just before she awoke, she'd remember the way Cooper Adams tasted on her lips.

“More.” She repeated her request when he moved once again to her throat. “More, please.”

His words tickled her ear. “You only have to ask once, Mary.”

His arm curled around her back, pulling her close. He tried to keep it light, as he guessed a woman would want her first kiss to be. But when she came so willingly to him and he felt the length of her pressing against him, he deepened the kiss.

Heaven had stepped into his arms. The warmth of her, the fresh, rainwater smell of her surrounded him. How could he not have known she had been so near for years?

Her body fit against him perfectly. She was gentle, soft spoken, intelligent. In her arms his worries faded. The taste of her left him longing for more. The beauty in her could not be measured in just a pretty face. She had a beauty that settled against his heart.

As her arms circled his neck and her fingers crossed into his hair, he lifted her off the floor and opened her mouth with his tongue. He knew he was bold. She was a woman who needed to be treated tenderly. But he was starving for the taste of her.

She jerked in surprise.

He moved his hand along her back, calming any fears as he brought passion to her simple request for a kiss. If she had pulled away, he would have stopped, no matter how much he'd have hated to. But even in her shock, she clung to him.

One step at a time, he taught her. Kissing her deeply. Lovingly moving his fingers over her body. Letting her know the magic that happens when the senses overload with pleasure.

Her heart beat wildly against his and he knew she wanted his touch as dearly as he needed to feel her near. Her hand fumbled with the sash of her robe a moment before the heavy wool parted and her body, clad only in undergarments, pressed against him once more.

She gulped for breath as she leaned her head back. His kisses explored her throat. His mouth covered where her pulse pounded as his hand moved up to brush over her breast.

So great a pleasure exploded in her senses, she would have fallen had he not held her. His tongue journeyed along her throat until his kisses reached the bottom of her ear, making her forget to breathe. His thumb slid across the tip of her breast, caressing her until she ached for more. The taste of him was paradise. The smell that was only him filled the air around her. They were suddenly floating in a river without shores, without boundaries, and her only thought was that she wanted more.

She craved all there was of this lovemaking she'd known nothing of before today. Before Cooper.

Pushing him an inch away Mary tried to remember how to speak. She had to tell him of the wonder he'd helped her discover. He had to know what a gift he'd given her with his touch.

But before she could say anything, he whispered, “Dear God, Mary. . . . I'm sorry.”

 
COOPER STEPPED OUT
into the night air while he waited for Mary to finish dressing. He wished the rain still pounded. Hell, he thought, he wished lightning would strike him right now. Maybe if he got a strong enough jolt he would be knocked senseless and feel better.

Nothing could make him feel worse.

“I'm ready,” Mary whispered from behind him as she stepped out, then turned to lock the store door.

He glanced around. Back in her plain dress, with her hair pulled tightly in a knot, little remained of the passionate woman who'd been in his arms minutes before. He couldn't tell if she had been crying—she refused to look up at him. He wouldn't blame her. If she had not pushed away from him when she did he might have made love to her. He had never been so out of control, so mindless, in his life.