Slow Ride Home (The Grady Legacy) (15 page)

She made a soft needy sound that shot right to his groin.

Note to self:
go online and order some leather restraints.
Though if he started viewing online sex shops he’d probably end up having to give himself a hand job. A small sacrifice to make in the long run. Okay, he hated to ask, because he really didn’t want details, but he needed to know what her limits might be. “You’ve never tried being tied up before?”

“Um, not really where I want this conversation to go right now, but no. Lewis wasn’t exactly adventurous in the bedroom.”

Idiot. Allie had been unafraid to try anything when they’d dated. The first time they’d made love had been in the back of his truck, and most of the times after too—what country kid hadn’t gone for a few rolls in the hay? She’d been on board for getting it on with him in front of Logan, and getting it on with Logan too, which he doubted many women would have been so happy to oblige.

What else could they try? He wasn’t exactly into role-playing, though she’d gotten turned on when he’d worn just his chaps that one time. He wouldn’t mind seeing her wearing a pair herself, especially if he bent her over a table and took her from behind.

The haunted look in her eyes disappeared, and the corners of her lips curled into a smile. “Uh-oh. You’re thinking of all the different things you want to do with me now, aren’t you?”

“Darlin’, you can’t tell me your ex wasn’t adventurous and not expect me to see it as a challenge.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure just how adventurous
I
am anymore.”

“Says the woman who just admitted she liked being tied up and didn’t object for a second to ditching her clothes out on the porch.”

“That’s different.” She waved her hands in exasperation. “You know what I mean.”

“Not in the least. If you expect me to do it missionary only from here on in, we’re gonna have a problem.” He clasped her shoulders. “You were fearless when we were together, Allie. I loved that about you. You didn’t care what anyone thought about you. You just wanted to have fun.”

“And then I grew up and realized that in this world you need to worry about what people think about you.”

He wanted to call bullshit but she did have a point. “Okay, yeah, so you shouldn’t wander down Main Street buck naked, agreed. And it’s probably not a good idea to get on your knees and give me a blow job in the middle of Carter Valley Bank, but when we’re in the bedroom or somewhere private, like out in my truck the other day, when it’s just the two of us doin’ what comes natural, it doesn’t matter what other people think.”

“Technically that’s true—”

“Of course it is.” If he let her think about it too much, she’d talk herself right back to Houston and her safe unimaginative life. “Tell me you’ve used a vibrator before.”

The prettiest blush crept up her neck, the curse of a redhead she’d once called it. “I may have once or twice, yes.”

Once or twice? “You own one?”

She may have ducked her head but it didn’t stop him from seeing her blush deepen. “Yes.”

“Vibrator or plain dildo?”

Her blush forgotten, she lifted her head to stare at him. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Now what toys do you own?”

“I’ve got a selection of vibrators, if you must know.”

A selection. Hot damn, he knew it! If he could have jumped up and clicked his heels he’d have been airborne in a second. The adventurous Allie hadn’t been banished, she’d just been hiding. Lust and need zinged through him as a picture formed of her bound and... “You got any nipple clamps?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh God, I’ve unleashed a monster, haven’t I?”

“Nope. Just a red-blooded man, darlin’.”

* * *

The room was completely dark when Allie roused next. It took her a second to remember where she was and then another minute to realize Ben was moving about the room. At least, she thought it was Ben. Without the streetlights she was used to in Albany and Houston, she couldn’t see her own hand.

“Shh, it’s all right. You can go back to sleep for a few minutes more. I’ll wake you when I’ve got breakfast ready.”

She hitched herself up on her elbows and peered blearily for a clock. “What time is it?”

“Almost four-thirty.”

Shoot, she couldn’t even afford a few minutes more. She should have been on the road home long ago. “You can turn on the light if you need to.”

“Nah, I’m pretty good at getting dressed in the dark.”

She’d known he must have dated since they’d broken up—hell from his improved techniques, she’d known it, but she really didn’t want to think of how many women he might have snuck out on.

She rolled over and flipped on the light, taking pleasure in Ben’s groaned complaint. “You coulda warned a guy you were going to turn that on. Damn, that’s bright.”

“Serves you right. You’re the one who woke me up at one a.m. because you were horny.”

Giving a groan that felt like it came up from her toes, she forced herself upright. “Coffee, I need lots and lots of coffee.”

“I have travel mugs you can use. Fill a couple and take ’em with you to keep you awake on the drive,” Ben called as she shuffled into the bathroom.

When she emerged, the bedroom was empty, but Ben’s voice drifted up from downstairs. Wondering who the hell dropped in at such an early hour, she followed his voice to find him in the kitchen, talking on the old-fashioned wall phone, holding the receiver a few inches away from his ear. “You got the AI gun?”

Even from across the room, she could hear the other man’s voice booming through the line.

He gestured to one of the cabinets when he noticed her standing there, miming drinking from a mug. Ah, the travel mugs for the coffee. She grabbed two and filled them from his machine—thank God he had one of those new machines that didn’t have to deal with grounds and filters and wait times for brewing.

“Good. I’ll meet you out there in about forty minutes. Oh, and Dale? Bring the notes we made the other day, will you? I left it in the breeding books—it’s in the top drawer of the file cabinet next to the desk.”

As she placed the lid on the second mug, he hung up the phone.

“Sorry about that.”

She grabbed another travel mug and filled it, handing him one of the already filled containers. “No problem. I’d forgotten it was breeding season.”

“Thanks, and yeah, nothing says sexy like having your hand in a plastic bag up the ass-end of a cow.”

She snorted. “And on that note, I’m heading out to enjoy one of the few perks of city life.”

“Hey. Hang on a minute.” He caught her arm and drew her against him, nuzzling the smooth skin of her neck. The fragrance of his soap and his own scent wound through her head and made her want to drag him back upstairs. “How’d you like to meet me in Dallas on Friday? Have lunch, maybe dinner? Come back here and stay the weekend?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, cowboy?” She wound her arms around his neck, wondering if she could arrange to work from here for the rest of the week.

“Would you say no if that’s what I called it?”

“I haven’t said no.” Damn it, why couldn’t he just ask straight out? They’d had sex four times now—well, seven for her and six for him if you went by orgasms. Which she did.

“You haven’t said yes, either. If you want to explain why you need to go to Dallas to your boss, you could stop in and talk to Charlie about Gramps’ history.”

“Every time we’ve contacted him so far he refuses to talk to us.”

He cringed. “Sorry. He can be obstinate, I know. It’s a Carter trait, I’m afraid.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s a Grady trait too.”

“Hey, pot meet kettle. You’re stubborn too.”

“Yes, I am.” How had they gotten so off track? “Maybe he’ll talk to us if you’re along. Now about that date in Dallas?”

He blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Well, I’ve got to drop some cow semen off at a friend’s just outside Arlington so I’ll be in the area anyway. I figured maybe we could get a hotel room. Have us a night out. Or maybe stay in and order from room service?”

Her face relaxed into a smile. “So you do want a date. You could have just said that right from the start.”

“I was afraid I might scare you off.”

“I stayed with you when I should have gone home last night.” She tugged on his shirt until they were nose to nose, then pressed her lips against his in a slow drugging kiss that had her wondering why she was in such a hurry to leave. “I can rearrange my schedule. But I won’t make it to Dallas until eleven at the earliest.”

A look of relief flashed in his eyes. “Good. Otherwise I was going to drive down there and haul you off over my shoulder.”

“As a lawyer,” another kiss, this one lighter since she couldn’t stop smiling, “I am required to inform you that those actions would get you arrested for kidnapping or at least forcible confinement, so I recommend you don’t try that action.”

“Oooh, I love it when you get all lawyerly on me.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Sexy.”

“You like it, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am. I sure do.” He cupped her ass and pulled her so she could feel his burgeoning erection.

“So tell me, cowboy.” She leaned up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Do you get a hard-on when Logan talks shop too? Or is it just me?”

“Just you, darlin’. Believe me, I do not get a hard-on around Logan. Ever.”

She released him with a laugh. “I gotta get going before you convince me to hang around and talk shop with you all day.”

He walked her out to her car, his arm tucked around her waist, and insisted on carrying her computer case for her. His expression was serious when he opened her door. “You drive carefully, you hear? If you get tired, you pull over. Don’t try to force yourself to keep driving.”

Her heart ached at his reminders, for she knew he was thinking of the driver of the eighteen-wheeler who’d fallen asleep and crashed into his father’s truck. “I will.”

“Text me when you get there. So I know you’re okay.”

“I will,” she repeated. She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, wishing the door wasn’t between them. “And you be careful if you’re driving any tractors today too.”

As she drove away she watched his image grow smaller in her rear-view mirror and wondered if he’d ever get rid of the ghosts who followed him, or the burdens they’d left him.

Chapter Nine

Four days later, Ben eased his truck between a sleek black Lexus and a shiny black Escalade. His white dually would have fit right in if he’d parked in the public parking lot in Fort Worth, but it sure did stand out amongst the various Mercedes and Bentleys in Carter, Murphy & Scott’s parking lot. As he rounded the truck, he glanced in the back to figure out what had been rattling whenever he took a corner and realized it could have been either the fence post or the shovel, and from the looks of it, the bag of cattle cubes had fallen on its side. Maybe in addition to cleaning out the truck bed, he should have given it a good spray with a hose to remove some of the muck clinging to the wheel wells, too.

“Ah hell, it’s a working truck. Let ’em live with it.” He headed to the front of his uncle’s Victorian red sandstone building to find Allie waiting in the lobby.

She was back in one of her prim business suits, her hair tucked back into some fancy ‘do. “Hey, you. You look—” edible, fuckable, “—fantastic.” Though he’d intended to give her a light kiss, he ended up taking his time and only barely remembered they were in the middle of a lobby and stopped himself from grabbing her ass. “You’re going to wow Uncle Charlie and end up with a job offer, you realize?”

“Only if you haven’t smeared my makeup.” Despite her complaint, she leaned up on her toes and kissed him again. “I’ve missed you.”

She removed a mirror and her lipstick from her purse, then slapped it into his hand. “Here, hold this for me while I repair the damage.”

What was it about women expecting guys to hold their purses? Couldn’t they leave a guy a little dignity? Even though he was tempted to drop it at her feet, Ben held her purse and pretended not to notice the looks of commiseration from one of the men leaving the building or the smirk of another. The minute she closed up her lipstick, he handed it back as if it were about to catch fire. “Just remember, Uncle Charlie can come off a bit high-handed at times, but he’s kin and he knows you’re lookin’ out for me so he’ll probably go easy on you.”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. It’s business, and I know what I’m doing.” Tucking her purse under her elbow, she strode confidently across the foyer.

He found himself hanging back, enjoying the view. Especially the way her hips swung, thanks, no doubt, to the pair of fuck-me high heels almost as high as the ones she’d worn the first day she’d arrived. Black and shiny, the toes were sharp enough to cause major damage if they hit a man’s softer parts, but the heels of this pair showed off her calves and ankles to perfection.

When he realized they’d be riding the elevator alone, he couldn’t resist asking, “How about I hit the emergency stop button and you give me a repeat performance of the Aerosmith concert?”

Her response was to hit him in the chest with her purse. “Crass, cowboy. Real crass.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Allie arched him a look then walked out, as poised as a runway model.

“You made it.” Logan strode toward them. “Allie, nice to see you again.”

Ben suppressed a snort when his friend took Allie’s hand in his and lifted her knuckles to his mouth. Considering this was a man who had told him to keep his distance, Logan was laying it on a little strong.

From the tight smile and the way she freed her hand, Allie thought so too. “Thank you for arranging the meeting with Mr. Carter today.”

“Anything to help speed this case to its conclusion. Come on, Mr. Carter’s office is upstairs.” As he led them toward the back of the foyer, he gave Allie a running commentary about the wood paneling (oak reclaimed from the ship that had brought the first Carter over from England) and the marble (found during a tour of Italy by the original Mrs. Carter), about how Carter, Murphy and Scott had been together since the turn of the previous century and had served state senators as well as three U.S. vice presidents. By the time Logan launched into a discussion on the art deco characteristics of the building Ben had zoned out.

Where the hell had the kid he’d wrestled with in the hay fields gone? The kid who wouldn’t have used terms like panache or rococo detailing? What had happened to the Logan who didn’t give a fig about getting grass stains on his hand-me-down jeans instead of this get-up that looked like he’d stepped off some magazine cover? And how come he hadn’t noticed before?

Allie appeared to be interested in whatever Logan was talking about. They’d both changed. If he didn’t know them, he’d think they’d make a good couple. Up-and-comers in Dallas’s high society.

Yet here he was, wearing a pair of jeans he’d bought on sale at the nearest big box department store and a pair of scuffed work boots. Oh sure, if someone asked, he could tell them he was part owner of a seventy-one thousand acre spread, with oil and gas wells, a hunting lodge that slept twelve (although they hadn’t opened it to hunters since his father’s death) and three thousand head of cattle. On paper it looked fine. But it didn’t mean he had millions in his bank account. Not that some of the women he dated believed him—most of the local women thought Bull’s Hollow was built of gold nuggets. Until they realized that some days he came home stinking of cow shit and blood and all sorts of other fluids, especially if it was calving season. That everyone on the ranch, including his mother and grandmother, had been expected to pitch in, whether it was so cold frost coated your eyelids or when the mercury hit over a hundred and the humidity resembled a greenhouse.

They’d also quickly discovered that the money the ranch made in selling cattle at the end of the year was pretty much the only paycheck he got in a year and it had to be reserved to pay the hands their salaries through the year and buy medicine and feed and everything else it took to keep a ranch running. And if they expected witty conversation, he’d be more likely to wonder aloud if Jake had managed to roll out of bed and make sure the cattle in Juniper pasture were accounted for. If Gabe had checked on Miree to make sure she hadn’t foaled overnight. If the order he’d called in to the feed store would be delivered and put away properly in case the rain the weatherman was calling for hit before he got home, or how many ranch hands would still be working for him at the end of the day. Yeah, ranching was real glamorous.

By the time they reached his uncle’s outer office, Ben had convinced himself he shouldn’t have come into Dallas at all, that Allie could have handled this meeting by herself.

His uncle appeared, wearing a suit that looked even more expensive than Logan’s. He grabbed Ben’s hand in a bone-crushing grip that surprised anyone expecting such a thin man to be weak. “There’s my great nephew. How you doin’, boy? How’s your momma?” Without waiting for Ben’s response, Charlie eyed Allie in a shrewd assessment. “This must be Ms. O’Keefe.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and then Charlie led them into his massive corner office with its windows overlooking Turtle Creek on one side and Dallas’s downtown district on the other. Once again Ben found himself letting the conversation drift over him, until Allie explained Tank’s claim.

“Of course George never had a child with any woman other than my sister. George was a God-fearing man. He honored the vows he took with my sister. He wouldn’t have stepped out on her.” The liver spots on Charlie’s hands tightened as his fingers curled into fists. “If you don’t mind, while you’re here I’d like to get a deposition of what you’ve told me so we can sue this Panola for defamation of character.”

In one of his famous ways to throw an opponent off, Uncle Charlie switched topics, inquiring about Allie’s law school degree and what she’d been doing since she’d graduated. The talk dragged on as they discussed various other defamation cases, then diverged into a discussion of the New York bar exam versus Texas’s exam. It rankled that Charlie twisted her words in an attempt to pick apart her arguments. His chest swelled in admiration at her ability to deftly turn them back on the wily old coot.

As Allie replied, Uncle Charlie leaned across the desk and pressed a button. Without saying a word, his assistant quietly appeared with a cup of coffee and a file folder, handed them both to her boss, then just as quietly disappeared. He leafed through the file folder and without looking up, said, “I understand your former employer is refusing to give you any sort of reference.”

“My former employer is my former father-in-law,” she said tightly.

“Hmm, tricky business, that.” Not looking up at her, he continued his examination, picking away at her work. Asking about what cases she’d handled in Albany. The more he poked and prodded, the straighter Allie’s spine got. Finally he put the file down and leaned back in his chair. “You like working’ with SSTG, Ms. O’Keefe? Busting your butt on insurance claims all day instead of solving real legal cases? Don’t you think that’s a waste of your degree?”

Allie’s nose tipped a mite higher. “Not at all. It’s just applying the law in a different way.”

“No, it’s pushing papers. Being a flunky for someone else. There’s nothing like the satisfaction of standing up in front of a judge in court, pleading your case or negotiating a contract for a client.”

“I get the satisfaction of representing my clients and making sure their cases are properly represented. And I’ll be responsible for the paperwork when we sue Mr. Panola for clouding the title.”

“But I bet that when you win a case for SSTG, you don’t get a cut of the share, do you?”

When Allie narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond, Charlie made a patronizing sound in the back of his throat then stood. “Well, if we’re done shooting the breeze here, I’ve got work to do. Thank you for coming in to speak with me in person. I appreciate that I didn’t have to deal with your boss—I can’t say I’ve met such an unpleasant woman.”

He walked to the door and continued right out past his assistant, leaving the three of them looking at each other.

Logan recovered first and escorted them back down to the lobby. “I made us reservations for lunch. Hope you’re both hungry, because the chef’s a good friend of mine and he makes a wicked quinoa and shrimp stir fry that you’ll love.”

What the hell was quinoa? Ben wondered as he took Allie’s hand and followed Logan out of the building.

* * *

Allie sampled one of the dishes Logan had ordered for them, paying little attention to the flavors bursting on her tongue. Instead her mind dissected the meeting with Charles Carter and how Ben’s mood had soured. At first she’d figured he was hungry, or bored listening to Charlie and her discussing points of law. She enjoyed the retorts and ripostes with Charlie—he had a sharp mind that challenged hers. She figured when they got to the restaurant Ben would relax, but instead he’d gotten grumpier.

He’d snarked about the Bentleys and Mercedes filling the lot, complained how the tie the maître d’ had made him wear felt like a noose, his shoulders hunched over as another wait staff in an old-fashioned white shirt, black slacks and white apron, with a white towel flipped over his arm, filled their water glasses and arranged their silverware. When they’d handed him the menu written in Italian, he’d managed to figure out most of the dishes, although he had questioned the ingredients of aïoli and groused about the lack of a plain old steak and all the fixings; He’d closed his menu, pointed to Logan and said, “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

She leaned over to touch Ben’s arm and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“I figured we’d eat somewhere normal. Somewhere with burgers and...” He leaned closer. “I didn’t know I’d need a suit to eat lunch.”

* * *

She squeezed his hand, to let him know she understood his discomfort. “We can stop off for a burger and fries once we leave.”

“Gonna have to.” He prodded the two-inch-wide square stack of quinoa with his fork, toppling the dozen edamame and strips of red and green pepper onto the single grilled tiger shrimp. “This wouldn’t be enough to feed a canary.”

Even Logan must have realized Ben’s mood because as soon as they finished eating, he called for the check. Ben offered to split the tab only to be refused, so the moment Logan paid the bill, Ben jumped to his feet. “Thanks for arranging that meeting with Uncle Charlie, Lo. But we gotta go.”

Allie had to sprint to keep up with Ben, as his long legs ate up the sidewalk in his race to get into his truck. “Hold up. I’m wearing heels here.”

He stopped to face her and blew out a breath. “Sorry, I just felt...”

“Out of place? Like you didn’t belong?”

“I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Just a little.” She looped her arm with his as he began walking again, slower this time. “That was me when I first started dating Lewis.”

“He wanted you to get all gussied up? Pretend like his shit don’t stink?”

She laughed at the sideways look an older woman gave them as they passed. “Sort of. His family had money—his father’s firm was very similar to your uncle’s. He’d been raised to know what fork went with what dish and I...well, I didn’t.”

“And you let him beat all these fancy manners into you and everything else out.”

“He never beat me.”

“You know what I mean.” They’d reached his truck but before she could open the door, he slapped his hand on the top and held it closed, trapping her between them. “You fit right in. You and Logan both.”

“I didn’t always fit in. It took a lot of hard work.”

“Do you like it?” Frustration filled his voice. “All this small talk and fancy dressing?”

“It’s how some of the world works. If I want to be good at my job, I have to fit in. I have to play their games. Whether I like it or not.”

His eyes searched hers. “I’d rather just be me. Feel comfortable in my own skin and be able to speak my mind without having to carry a damned thesaurus. Sure doesn’t seem worth giving up who you are to please others. Far as I’m concerned, they either like me or they don’t. Their choice.”

“I’ve not given up who I am.” Except she had, hadn’t she? She’d not seen how she’d changed until she’d accompanied Lewis to a restaurant on their third anniversary and found herself air-kissing one of his friends and talking about Botox treatments and listening to complaints about how their SUV’s heated seats didn’t warm fast enough for the woman’s liking. Later that night, she and Lewis had undressed and carefully folded their clothes, climbed into bed and turned the lights out before discussing if they needed to have sex as part of their celebration. It had been the epiphany that she hated her life, hated who she’d become.