Steal Me, Cowboy (6 page)

I followed him through the dining room and into a large dimly lit room, the wine cellar. “We have a good list,” he said, “a lot of people fly in just for the wine.”

“They’re fools if they leave without eating.”

He smiled and didn’t argue with me. “Why don’t you pick a bottle for dinner. Any bottle.”

“I don’t know much about wine except that I like it white and cold.”

“Ever had a really good cab before?” He ran his hands over a row of bottles, like he was just itching to pick one for me, or hoping I chose wisely. But I knew more about lampshade origami than I knew about wine.

“Probably not. I might like them better if I had.”

He grabbed a bottle off of the rack. “This Scarecrow is excellent.”

“The label’s not very pretty, and I do like a pretty label. Maybe you should sell me on it.”

“Madam—.” He picked up a pen and started drawing little hearts and flowers on the label of what I was sure was a very expensive bottle.

“Rainey,” I corrected, trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard with Flirty Beck.

“Rainey, this Scarecrow is a 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa.” He cradled the bottle in his hands, presenting it to me. “It opens with a black cherry and raspberry bouquet with traces of vanilla and oak. The finish is remarkable with hints of dark chocolate and plum.”

“Sounds good, but I’m still not sold.” I laughed because I thought we were playing a game, but then he was serious. Skimming his thumb over the hearts and flowers he’d just drawn.

“You need this Scarecrow to complete your dinner. You’ll miss it if you don’t have it.”

“I don’t think so,” I laughed, reminding him this was just a game. This wasn’t a date. “Guess I can’t know what I’m missing if I never have it.”

“I think you will.”

He wouldn’t let it go, and he wasn’t talking about wine anymore. The walls felt like they were closing in, but they weren’t. I felt like Beck was in my face, whispering against my lips, but he wasn’t. I snatched up what I hoped was a very cheap bottle of chardonnay and hurried out of the wine cellar. Beck followed after me with the Scarecrow.

He led me through the kitchen and then back to his home and seemed to have dropped the innuendos. I was white knuckling my wine bottle and was more than ready for a drink when I pushed through his front door.

The whole house smelled delicious. I was officially starving, and food seemed to be a safe subject, unless we were talking grilled cheese. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“The house specialty. Pan seared elk chops.”

Well, maybe this wasn’t a date, because elk sounded like the least sexy food on the menu. “Elk?”

“I wanted to give you something you’ve never had before.” Oh shit, there he goes again. “Who knows—you might like it.”

“How do you know I’ve never had elk before? Maybe it’s a southern staple like grits. Maybe southerners like grits and elk. Together. All the time.”

“Have you ever had it before?” He turned on that flirty grin that said he had me.

“Open my wine for me? Please?” He opened the red and the white and gave me a little taste of the Scarecrow. It really didn’t taste anything like the cheap reds I’d tasted before. It was good, but the not-expensive chardonnay was buttery and delicious.

While Beck was busy in the kitchen, I grabbed my phone out of the car and checked my messages, earning an
I told you so
smirk. I sat at the bar and watched him cook, with my phone at the place beside me, like it was Adam’s place. I sipped my wine and nibbled on a little brioche Beck had put out for me. It was topped with some things I didn’t recognize and some things I did… like lobster and a yellow thing that looked like a little tiny fried egg.

“This is wonderful, Beck. What is it?”

“Toasted brioche, lamb prosciutto we make at the restaurant, foie gras, with a little poached lobster and finished with truffle hollandaise sauce.”

I popped another piece in my mouth. “What’s the little fried egg-looking thingy?”

“A sunny side up quail egg.” Quail egg? As in little baby birds? Part of me wanted to spit the little yellow thing into my napkin, but the way all the flavors came together made that impossible. “Good?” he asked.

“You always ask questions you already know the answer to?” He grinned and turned his attention to plating our dinner. “What can I do to help? Can I set the table?”

“Already have. Take your wine into the dining room.” He nodded toward a pocket door off the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

I opened the door and sucked in my breath not knowing what was more beautiful, the stunning view of the mountains and the lake or the room itself. The room had the same vaulted ceiling and rustic beams as the rest of the house. A long antique farm table sat atop a gorgeous rug of turquoise, reds, and browns woven in an intricate Native American design. The two end chairs were upholstered in a soft nubby turquoise fabric. The six side chairs were all different, all antique and perfectly restored in varying shades of natural finishes to complement the deep rich honey-colored beams.

In the middle of the table was a huge round wooden tray with a dozen flickering oil lanterns of various sizes. The chandelier that hung over the table was a tangle of antlers wrapped in tiny white twinkling lights.

“You like it?” He set the wine bottles on the table.

“There you go again with those questions. Of course, Beck, it’s gorgeous.” He seated me in one of the end chairs, then made another trip to the kitchen and put our plates on the table.

“Tonight madam,” he put my napkin in my lap, making me giggle. “We have a pan-seared Rocky Mountain elk chop, with Marietta Montana russet potato puree, lemon roasted cauliflower with crispy shallots, and a red wine demi-glace.” He filled my water glass. “Bon appetit.”

I was ready to dig in when my cell rang. Adam’s ringtone. For four years, every time I heard that sound, my heart would beat faster. On the rare occasion I didn’t have my phone with me, I’d move heaven and earth to find it, excited it was Adam and always snapping it up before the second or third ring. This time I froze.

Beck seemed to know this and put his fork down to watch me. Still, I didn’t move. The phone went silent and then started up again. He pushed back from the table, went into the kitchen and brought it to me. Adam and Buster’s picture was on the caller ID. Beck was daring me to answer it.

Don’t you
ever
dare me to do anything. “Hey.” I breathed into the phone.

“Hey. You still coming?” He still sounded slightly less pissed off.

“Yeah, if everything goes the way I’ve planned, I should be in Missoula Saturday night.” Beck watched me, sipping his ruby red wine, not mad but not thrilled I’d taken his dare.

“Where are you now, babe?” He grinned knowing full well I wasn’t about to tell Adam Harper where I was.

“I’m eating dinner.”

“You stopped for a meal? Good, but you really shouldn’t be out on the road alone, Rainey. You never know what might happen.”

“I’m a tough girl,” I said, and Beck raised his glass to me.

“The place must not be very good, sounds like nobody’s there.” Beck raised his eyebrows, but that wasn’t a dare I wasn’t going to take. “You the only person in the dining room?”

“Yes.” I could feel the blush from the lie across my face. “Adam, my food’s here. Can I call you later?”

“Sure, babe. Be safe. Love you.”

“Me too.” I ended the call and froze. What in the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t a
me too
kind of girl. And I wasn’t the kind of girl to go on a date with someone who wasn’t my boyfriend.

I expected Beck would make one of his patented smart remarks, but he just started eating, chatting me up about South Carolina. “You haven’t touched your elk.”

I put my fork down in surrender. “I love deer. They’re sleek and beautiful. If this is like Bambi, I’m not sure I can eat it.”

“Only if Bambi weighs seven hundred to a thousand pounds and could kill or seriously maim you. Just taste it, if you don’t like it, I’ll fix you a grilled cheese,” he grinned, obviously aware of my weakness. “Promise.”

I nodded and cut a little piece off and ran it around in the sauce. “It’s good, tastes like beef. And you’re sure it’s not Bambi?”

“Maybe Iron Bambi or Super Bambi. I would say Bambi on steroids, but our elk is farm raised, naturally, with no chemicals.”

I cut a bigger piece. “Bon appetit.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Beck was smart enough not to mention the phone call from the asshole, even smarter to keep the wine and the food coming. “So what’s South Carolina like?”

“You’ve never been?” She feigned being shocked.

“Wasn’t on my list.” Until now.

“I live in Columbia. It’s the capitol city, smack dab in the middle of the state. Columbia’s hot as pure T hell in the summertime, but it’s a nice town. It’s also great because it’s two hours from the beach and two hours from the mountains, with a bunch of lakes in between. That’s probably one of the best things about South Carolina, you can have the best of both worlds.
And
we have Charleston, which everyone knows is the most romantic city in the world.”

“Not too sure about that. Have you ever been to Paris?”

“You ever been to Charleston?”

“Okay, you win the geography round.” He liked her laugh and the way she made her point wagging her fork at him. “Brothers? Sisters?”

“Nope. Just me. My parents have a little country store in New Zion, a farm community about an hour from Columbia.”

“I bet they spoiled you rotten.”

“Just the opposite. It was a hard living for them then, it still is. But they grew up there. Haven’t had a desire to do anything else. How about you?”

“I’m an only too, and was definitely spoiled by my mom. Always wanted a brother though. When I was little, I told everyone I had a big brother. It was kind of pathetic.”

“I think it’s sweet.” He started to pour her more wine and she put her hand over the glass. “I have work tomorrow. Better not.”

Beck nodded. “So the dog, on your phone—.” The blush traveled down her face, her long neck and disappeared under her dress. God, she was beautiful. He wanted to make her blush more, without the dress, trace it wherever it went.

“That’s Buster. He’s my baby. My best friend, Antwan’s keeping him while I’m gone.”

“So, he’s
your
dog?”

“Adam and I got him a couple of years ago.”

The asshole probably got her the dog to keep her company when he wasn’t there. What an idiot for giving her a substitute when he could be with her. But it looked like Rainey got the good end of that deal because the Lab looked sweet.

“So he’s the married dog?” Beck asked

“What do you mean?

“You know, the dog couples get to make sure they can actually do the parent/kid thing before marriage.” She all but winced at that last word, making him want to dig a little deeper. “So four years? That’s a long time, you and—Adam is it? You must be close to taking the plunge.”

“Didn’t you say you made dessert?” She gave him her best smile, trying to distract him.

Beck didn’t budge. “So tell me about, Adam.”

She let a few beats pass. “I met him when I was on vacation in Florida. He’d just been drafted by the Tampa Yankees.”

“That’s Class-A-Advanced, isn’t it? He must be pretty good.”

“It’s hard to make it to the major leagues.” It was obvious she didn’t want to talk about this now. “So he’s coaching now.”

“Must be tough. Commuting,” he grinned at her.

“Yes. It is.” She traced the rim of her wine glass. “Now, about that dessert.”

She loved his tiramisu, although her cute little nose turned up a bit when he presented it as tiramisu banana pudding.

“I love a good tiramisu, Beck, and banana pudding’s right up there with grits and elk, but I don’t know about tiramisu and banana pudding together.”

“You might like it, it’s the classic version with a southern twist, a little bit of banana liqueur in the filling topped with paper thin slices of brûléed banana.”

I took a small bite and moaned. “God, do you serve this at the restaurant?” It was to die for.

“The classic, yes, but I wanted to see what it would be like to blend the west and the south. What do you think?”

I blushed hard again, wanting to rave about how perfect it was, but I was wary of the messages Beck was sending with his food. Thank God he didn’t just come out and say what he was implying, because I might have said or done anything for another piece of dessert.

But dinner was over and we were to the point in the evening where he wanted to sit out on the deck and look up into that beautiful Montana sky—with me. And I had a boyfriend to call.

“Dinner was amazing, Beck, but I’d better get back to the motel.” He looked disappointed for a second, like he might just let everything that had happened tonight go. He pulled my chair out but didn’t step aside when I stood up. I was close enough to touch his soft cotton shirt and smell his clean, earthy scent. Close enough that looking into his eyes seemed dangerous.

“Rainey, I’ve got no right to put my arms around you,” his voice was low and husky. “I wish I did. There’s something here, between you and me. I know you feel it too.”

“Please, Beck.” I’d been faithful to Adam for four years; I wasn’t going to screw that up now. Yet, Beck hadn’t even touched me and my skin tingled like he had. And I was beyond aroused.

“Rainey, just give me a chance to change your mind.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Then one kiss.”

The only thing more intimate than eye contact was a kiss, and I couldn’t give him that. But I wanted to kiss him, ached to kiss him. And I couldn’t deny that my body responded to him, to his voice. He was gorgeous, what woman in her right might wouldn’t want him? “No, Beck. Take me back to the motel. Please.”

He stood there for a moment, then got his keys and I followed him out to the car. I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or angry, and to be honest he didn’t seem like he was any of those things, most likely because he knew he was right. There was something between us.

Relief flooded me when I closed the motel room door. I slipped into Adam’s T-shirt and sat on top of the covers with my ankles crossed, wondering if Adam had those kinds of temptations too. I had always guarded myself against situations like that with smart remarks or just flat out walking away from seduction, and yet I’d walked right into Beck Hartnett’s place. Pretending it was just dinner.

My cell phone rang. Adam. “Hey, baby, you still driving or are you bedded down for the night?”

“Already in bed with your T-shirt on. How was your day?”

“I don’t want to talk about that now. Put your phone on speaker and tell me what you are wearing under that T-shirt.”

It had been a couple of weeks, but I knew this game. Adam would have me panting in a matter of minutes. My body was conditioned to respond to his voice, nipples already hard. That ache for him to be inside me that would soon be replaced by my fingers. But something didn’t feel quite right.

“Do you have on that tiny black thong I bought you?”

The edge of my pink cotton bikinis peeked out from under the shirt. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes, baby.” I let his voice take me where I belonged. “God, you’re beautiful. I am so hard for you. Touch yourself the way you want me to touch you. Tell me what you feel.”

I pushed my shirt up. My fingers skimmed over my ribs and made lazy circles around my breasts. I was starved for this and getting into it the way I was supposed to. “My nipples are hard.”

“Tug on them. Feel my mouth on you. Licking. Sucking. Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” The invisible line that ran from my breasts down to my core was electric.

“Are you hot for me?”

“Yes.”

“Let your fingers trail down your belly, baby. Feel my tongue.” I could see his face tracing the line down my center. My legs instinctively opened to him, my fingers pumping where he would soon be. “God you taste good, baby. How many times can you come for me?”
My guy, always keeping score.

“As many times as you make me.” My thumb brushed my clit, almost pushing me over the edge.

“My cock is so hard for you. Do you feel it?”

“Yes. I want you inside me.” He was panting now.

“I am, baby. I’m inside you. I’m all over you, eating you up. Come for me, baby.”

My body unleashed every ounce of wanting inside me. And when we went over the edge together, I screamed Adam’s name. But it was Beck’s face I saw hovering over me, smiling. Gorgeous.

What the hell was I doing? Granted, we’re talking imaginary lovers, but why had my brain replaced Adam with Beck? Was I punishing Adam for ignoring me, for leaving me with so many unanswered questions, questions I was afraid for him to answer? God knows Adam deserved to be punished eight ways to Sunday for that. Or was Beck right about him and me?

The last thought brought on a heaping portion of good southern girl guilt, which is every bit as potent as anything the Baptist
s or the Catholics can dole out.

What the hell was I doing? I’d better straighten up. I’d make it up to Adam when I saw him. Of course he would never know I was giving him mind-blowing
penance-filled sex. And to be honest, as committed as I was to the task, I don’t think he would care if he did.

“Wanna go again?” He asked after some pillow talk.

“Babe, I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I should probably get some sleep.” And scold myself some more.

“Rainey, I’m sorry I was a jerk. It’ll be good for you to be here.”

“I’m glad, baby. You okay?”

“Yeah. Kind of. I’m not sure about this coaching thing. I was used to being one of the players, so I tried to act that way with the guys. That doesn’t work so well if you want them to listen to you. Then I tried to act more like a coach and now they think I’m a dick. So, I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Adam. I wish I could help.”

“You do help babe. You’re my backup.” For a man who always spoke in sports clichés, you’d think he could have chosen a better one. Was I a backup? Just a replacement for whatever he didn’t have at the time? But before I could protest, he said, “You’re always there for me, Rainey. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I ended the call and lay awake, my body still faintly humming, trying not to think about Beck Hartnett.