Rawhide and Roses (8 page)

Kim prodded his chest with her finger, punctuating each sentence as she spoke. “I’ll do my job, Mr. Winchester. I’ll pull my load as you have already instructed. And whether you believe I can, or not, I don’t care. But I tell you what. By the time I have supper ready, I expect my tent to be up, my gear stowed inside, and my sleeping bag warm and ready and waiting. I’ve had a long day and I don’t feel like waiting around to do it myself. Got it?”

She punched him in the chest one more time. It was high time she started making demands!

His eyes glinted like sparks off steel. His broad jaw was set firm, his high cheekbones like chiseled marble until a sly grin broke his face.

It was the only part of his body that moved. The next instant he reached up, swept off his hat, and bowed in front of her in a sweeping motion. “At your service, Ma’am,” he taunted, mimicking her mock salute of hours earlier. In the next second, he brushed past her and coolly strode toward the other men.

Kim swirled her body toward Jillie, then did a one-eighty to rivet her gaze on his backside. She hated the way that man looked from the rear. The way his jeans were stretched tight across his ass. The way the muscles in his back rippled under his plaid western cut shirt. Yes, she hated what the sight of those things did to her. Her anger took hold a little deeper.

He was the original horse’s patoot!

Kim irritably turned back to the task at hand. Damn sure that he wasn’t going to make a fool of her, she decided to throw herself into her work. Besides, somewhere she’d heard that hard work was an excellent remedy for sexual frustration.

Sexual Frustration?

“Hop to it, Jillie!” she demanded.

Jillie joined her and in no time they had untied and separated the contents of the manties, located all the kitchen supplies, and had informed Mack that all they needed to do was set things up. But all Kim could think about the whole time her fingers where fumbling over ropes and unpacking their gear was why in the hell the thought of her being sexually frustrated even entered her mind!

It was true. She’d hadn’t dated in a while. Hadn’t had what she would call a serious relationship in about a year. And even though she didn’t normally dwell on the subject, she suddenly realized that it had been quite a while since she’d...been, um, sexually unfrustrated.

But Thad Winchester? Surely to goodness her body was playing tricks on her. She’d never in her life ever dreamed, ever imagined herself being attracted to the likes of...of a rancher? A cowboy? A man like Thad Winchester. A man who held no respect for her as a human being? A man who had eyes like the dark depths of a black cup of coffee and skin tanned and etched with life stretched across high cheekbones, a ridged brow, and a firm, square jaw? Lips thin and smooth. A thick mustache over the upper one. Suddenly, she wondered if he kissed her, would it tickle her nose?

Kissed her?

Kim stood and moodily folded the last of the manties, tossing it onto the heap to the side. Why in the world would she wonder what his mustache would feel like if he kissed her? That, clearly, would never happen! She’d make certain of that. Thad Winchester wouldn’t even get close enough to even think about kissing her!

Irritated, she looked back to Jillie, who was conversing with Mack. Suddenly impatient with herself, and everything else around her, she stomped over to a pile of gear, picked up a small shovel and a roll of toilet paper, and angrily brushed by the two of them. Her body was sending her all kinds of signals: aching muscles, a growling stomach, her pituitary gland shooting raging hormones through her body, and her bladder screaming that she’d waited entirely too long to empty it.

And now, considering her frustration with herself and her surging libido, she felt it time she handle the one thing that was in her control at the moment. Embarrassed or not, she had to do it. Trudging off toward a wooded area, feeling like every single person in the camp had his gaze trained on her, knowing what she was setting out to do, she found herself a large tree several feet into the small wooded area, feeling disgustingly out of her league. And embarrassed.

She started digging a little hole as Thad had instructed them to do before the trip. She glanced around her, never realizing how dark the woods could be near dusk. Quickly, she took care of her business, then headed back to camp, hoping she’d not need to visit the woods again until daybreak.

****

Camp was set up by the time she’d finished supper. With Jillie’s help, Kim had prepared a supper of meatballs and gravy, mashed potatoes, three-bean salad, coffee and a small chocolate cake for desert. Actually, once Mack and Thad had set up the cook stove under the dining fly and left her alone, it wasn’t a difficult task.

Mack had lit a fire for her in the stove while suffering Thad’s glare. She sensed Thad wanted her to make a mistake, to fumble around with the equipment until she had to ask for help, but Mack obviously was tiring of Thad’s manner as much as she. When Thad turned on his heel and left to help set up the remainder of the tents, Kim stifled a small grin.

After digging through the food boxes, she’d found a list and instructions from Sarah. Once she’d determined how the packing had been done, along with the menus for the next two weeks, she realized that being cook was going to be a relatively simple task. Sarah had written that the meat on the outside of the box was to be used first, because it would thaw first, and she was to work herself into the middle by the end of the week. Halfway through the trip someone from the ranch would be bring them fresh food supplies.

She also found that Sarah had already made the three-bean salad, still chilling in with other refrigerated items next to the meat packed with dry ice. All she had to do was put on the coffee, heat the pre-cooked meatballs and gravy, boil and mash the potatoes, and slice the pre-baked chocolate cake. It didn’t take long and supper was served within forty-five minutes.

Thad made no comment as to her culinary expertise, or the lack of it, throughout the entire meal. He simply ate, then left the party, walking out into the dark night, alone. Kim shook her head to his indifference, then started scraping plates and boiling water for washing the dishes.

Everyone else pitched in. Tim suggested that each should wash their own eating utensils, which they did, and then he hung around to help Kim wash the pots and pans. Mack and Jillie had wandered off to together—she didn’t want to know where. The wranglers and Aaron had all gone their separate ways for the night, she welcomed the help, but found Tim a little annoying.

Tired, she was appreciative of his help and told him so, although it was a little aggravating. She wasn’t in the mood to be charming and entertaining. She just wanted to get the dishes washed and go to bed.

She was dead tired, so after they’d secured the equipment as per Mack’s instructions and turned on the battery lantern under the dining fly, Kim again told Tim thanks. Feeling like she was giving him the big brush-off at the door of the dome tent Mack had pointed out as hers earlier in the evening, she quickly unzipped the opening, stepped inside, and closed it securely behind her.

In the dark, she could see nothing. Tim’s flashlight had lit the way to the tent, but now, it was going to take her eyes a few moments to adjust to the black cavern in front of her.

She sank to her knees and groaned. Never in her life had she been so exhausted. Never. Not even during sorority rush week in college. Not even during the horse shows. Not even during late nights of grading semester exams.

Having never slept in her clothes before, she found the idea extremely tempting. She didn’t feel like fumbling around in the dark for the sweat suit she’d been given and knew that she really didn’t even have the energy to search. All she wanted was to snuggle down deep inside her sleeping bag and sleep, oblivious to everything around her, until morning.

It was warm outside, she justified. The sleeping back would ward off any night chills, so she quickly slid her fingers down the placket of her borrowed western shirt and sloughed out of it. The bra came next. Then after unbuckling the too-large belt she unzipped the jeans, shoved them half-way down her hips, then realized she hadn’t take off her boots.

“Damn boots,” she whispered to herself in the dark. “Too stinkin’ big. My feet hurt, by butt hurts, my thighs hurt. Damn old trail ride. Damn Jillie Abernathy,” she mumbled angrily. “I’ll tan her hide when I get hold of her. Where in the hell is she with that salve, anyway?”

Kim moaned as she squirmed around to sit with her legs in front of her. Fumbling with the boots, she finally removed each, one by one, pulling and tugging until at last, with a grunt, each came off her sweaty feet. A wadded up sock flew out of one and hit the opposite side of the tent with a pop, then slid to the floor.

“Geez. Now I’ll have to find
that
in the morning.”

Finally, she removed her jeans, left her panties on, and crawled around on hands and knees trying to find the sleeping bag. Within a few seconds, she touched the edge of the thing.

“Well I’ll be,” she exclaimed. “He unrolled it for me and everything. I guess something finally sank into that thick, stupid skull of his.”

Kim let her fingers work over the zippered edge, making her way to the top. Finding it upzipped, she grasped the bag about half way down, breathed a long sigh of relief, and flipped the top toward the wall.

Nearly falling into it, she expected her flesh to meet with warm flannel. But that wasn’t exactly the case. Her flesh met with warmth, all right. Warm, hairy flesh. Her body shivered at the heat that flesh radiated to hers.

“My skull isn’t the only thing that’s thick at the moment. And if you don’t move pretty damn quick, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

Kim started to scream and jump back, but a firm hand clasped over her mouth before she could. Another dragged her back down against him, a hairy arm encircling her waist, grazing her nipples as he grabbed her, sending tentacles of anticipation through her body.

She was trapped against hot male flesh which smelled slightly of perspiration, coffee, and wood smoke. And something spicy. Another tremor passed through her body and ended in the pointed peaks of her nipples, recalling the sensation of his skin against them seconds earlier.

“Don’t scream,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and husky. “Or the whole damn camp will come running. I really don’t think you want them to find us in this compromising position, do you?”

Anger boiling inside her, Kim silently and wholeheartedly agreed with the familiar voice—then sank her teeth deep into the thick, fleshy meat of Thad’s palm.

****

How in the hell Kim Martin had ended up in his tent, and his sleeping bag, Thad had no idea. But here she was, his arm wrapped around her almost nude body; her teeth sunk deep into the palm of her hand.

He’d woke to the sound of softened voices coming toward the tent. When he recognized Tim Rumer’s mingling with Kim’s, he’d cringed inwardly, wondering if Kim had intentions of letting Tim keep her company throughout the night. After all, they had seemed to quickly become cozy earlier in the day. At that point a glimmer of something he didn’t want to define sliced through him. If he had to put a name to it, he would have called it jealousy, but he wasn’t going to name it. There was no reason for him to be jealous of Tim Rumer or anyone else.

Kim Martin was off limits. Period.

She’d crept in like a cat and hastily zipped the tent closed behind her. He’d breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he’d have to deal with just her and not the two of them. As he watched her in the dark, Thad let his eyes adjust to the tent’s blackness—obviously quicker than hers had—for he had to garner every bit of self-control he could muster to not move a muscle.

His cheeks heated as he watched her hands flutter to her neck and hastily work their way down the front opening of her shirt. His stomach tightened as she jerked it away from her body and tossed it aside. His blood thrummed in his ears when she reached up between her breasts and quickly unclasped the front closure of her bra, allowing her ample mounds of flesh sudden freedom.

Like radar, his gaze zoomed in on the rounded globes. The only thing that broke his concentration of imagining how they would feel in the palm of his hand, was the fact that her own hands had traveled lower to her jeans.

At the familiar ripping sound of the zipper, he’d felt all the blood in the lower half of his body zing to his already swollen groin and had to stifle a moan.

God, how he hated himself at that moment. But as much as he hated himself, for laying there so still, feeling rather voyeuristic, he still imagined his hands snaking inside the front of her jeans, smoothing his palms around her hips and inching denim and lace away from her body very slowly, savoring every sensation of the feel of her rounded buttocks and her soft skin in his hands.

Yes, he knew she would be soft. A woman like her had to be soft.

Damn!

By the time she’d taken off her boots and whooshed her jeans off her body, his blood was boiling in his veins from the sensuality of the moment. Just what in the hell did he think he was doing? If word of this got out, his reputation as a solid businessman would sail away on a
Rocky
Mountain
breeze.

He had to get out of here—and fast!