The Fantasy Factor (9 page)

That’s what he told himself, but when Miss Marshalyn looked at him with that glimmer of hope in her eyes, he couldn’t seem to make himself say as much.

“I don’t think Imogene’s the one for me.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

Did he? “No. I’d like to just wait and see what happens naturally.” That meant following his heart, which meant he wasn’t settling down in Cadillac. He was headed for Vegas and his record-breaking win.

“But if you would just talk to her, you might—”

“She’s not the one,” he said, cutting her off. “So tell her to forget any connection.”

“I will not. You don’t want a date. You tell her. It’s that simple.”

“You’re the one who started this.”

“For your own good, dear.”

“Look—” he started, but she waved him silent as she always did.

“Okay. If you want me to tell her, I will. I just don’t know if my poor old heart can take the disappointment on that child’s face. Why, I’m liable to have an attack right there.”

“Your heart is just fine.”

“Now. But who knows if I put it under too much stress and upset that nice young woman?”

“But you’ll do it.”

“If you really want me to.”

“I really want you to.”

“If you’re absolutely, positively certain that this is the best thing.”

“I’m absolutely, positively certain.”

“If you’re—”

“Tell her.”

“If you say so.”

“Call her right now.”

“Of course, dear.”

S
HE DIDN’T CALL HER
.

Houston realized that a half hour later when he turned onto Main Street and passed the bed-and-breakfast. Imogene’s blue Pinto sat out front. He gave up the notion of picking up a change of clothes and taking a quick shower, slumped down in his seat, bypassed the B and B and hung a sharp left. Sarah’s nursery sat just up the street. He headed in that direction.

Imogene wouldn’t think to look for him at Sarah’s place. Not that that was the reason he was coming by. He actually felt bad about opening his mouth to Mr. Jenkins and talking Sarah into making the delivery. She was busier than ever—the morning rush he’d witnessed was testimony to that—and she could use an extra pair of hands. And a truck. And he could offer both.

He certainly wasn’t coming by because he actually liked spending time with her, talking to her, laughing with her. Their relationship was strictly sex, just as she’d said, just as he’d agreed. And he was eager to prove to himself that she was just as anxious as he was to get to number five.

They were going to make some definite plans for the encounter starting right now. He wasn’t scheduled to be out at Austin’s place—he’d been helping his older brother in the afternoons—until later that day. Not that he could take too much time out at the ranch. Tending cattle simply wasn’t his thing. He liked a more challenging pastime.

Soil and plants. Talk about a challenge.

He ignored the small voice. Keeping company with Sarah at the Green Machine was challenging because of the sexual tension that hummed between them. The anticipation. The heat.

It had been more than two days since they’d gotten busy in the shower, and he wanted her again. Hell, he’d never stopped, despite the shower. He could have kissed and touched and pleasured her all night long. He would have had she not looked at him with that closed expression and said goodbye.

It bothered him more than he liked to admit. But why? Was it hurt pride because she’d told him to leave and she’d been acting so distant since? After all, he was the one who walked away, who said goodbye, who kept his distance where women were concerned. He always had been.

Until last night.

She’d turned the tables on him and he didn’t like it.

But there was more to it than that. The closed look she’d given him after the shower had been the direct opposite of the raw hunger she’d directed at him in the dance hall. The kiss that had followed at the wedding reception had been as wild, as reckless, as overwhelming as he remembered from twelve years ago. And he’d expected their sexual encounter to be as wild. He’d expected
her
to be as wild, as open. Instead, she’d seemed almost as if she was trying not to react, to feel too much. As if she was afraid.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if she truly had changed. Because the Sarah he remembered would never have been afraid of her feelings. She would have wrapped herself around him and asked him to stay until the sun came up.

She’d wanted to. He’d seen it in her eyes, but she’d held back the emotion and sent him on his way.

So?

He never made sex an all-night deal. It was always temporary. Satisfying, yet straight and to the point. Because he couldn’t afford “all night.” Because that led to the next morning, and Houston Jericho didn’t do the morning after.

He never had and he never would.

That meant there was more to the sex than just lust, and he’d vowed a long time ago to keep his head, and his distance, where women were concerned. His lifestyle didn’t lend itself to a relationship. He was here and there and everywhere, always on the road, always focused. He didn’t have time for more with any woman. And he didn’t want more.

It was always about lust.

Now was no different. It’s just that he was stuck here and he had more free time, and so it stood to reason that he would want to see her again. To fill up that free time with a pleasurable act. Not to mention, Sarah was safe. She didn’t want more and he didn’t want more and so they were a perfect match.

For now.

He focused on the last thought and turned into the gravel parking lot. It was all about right here, right now, and spending his lust.

He frowned as he pulled around back. There was a beat-up white pickup truck parked in his spot. A wave of jealousy shot through him as he pulled up next to the vehicle and climbed out. He’d rounded the side and was headed for the door when Sarah walked out, a large potted eucalyptus tree in her arms.

“Could you pull the tailgate down for me?” she asked, motioning to the truck.

He pulled the lever and shifted the door down. “Who’s truck is this?”

“It’s mine.” She slid the potted palm into the truck bed, climbed in and pushed it to the far corner.

“You don’t have a truck.”

“I do as of eight o’clock this morning. I drew everything out of my savings account—what little I’ve managed to put aside—and I handed it over to old man Witherspoon.”

His mind rifled back through his childhood and he saw the familiar truck bouncing and jerking down a back dirt road, the bed filled with a large metal cage that housed the old man’s pride and joy—a pet skunk named Fifi.

“This is the skunk trunk.”

“Fifi passed away last year and he’s been trying to sell the truck ever since—it brings back too many memories and he wants to get on with his life. Anyhow, it’s mine now and I’ve invested in a heavy-duty air freshener. It hardly smells like skunk at all.”

He leaned in the window, took a whiff and winced.

“I just got it.” She came up behind him and winced herself before putting on a confident smile. “A few days and I’m sure the smell will start to fade.” She turned, walked back to the rear of the vehicle and lifted a potted plant. After climbing into the bed of the truck, she slid the large container to the rear and anchored it in place with a small piece of rope.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride if you have another delivery,” he told her.

She stood up in the bed and dusted off her hands. “Thanks to you I’ve got eight deliveries, and I promised Miss Esther I would go out and take a look at her place to offer some planting suggestions.”

“I heard this morning. You could have talked to me.”

“I was really busy. I’m still busy.”

“That’s why I’m here. I got you into this situation. The least I can do is help you out.”

“True, but you’re only here for two weeks, half of which is almost up. What am I supposed to do when you leave?”

The question hung between them like a challenge, and he knew then that buying the truck was her way of keeping her distance, and her control, where he was concerned. She didn’t want to need him. To want him.

But she did, or so he hoped.

“You could have found something a little more reliable,” he finally said. “And a little less smelly.” He held out his arms to help her down and she stalled, as if the thought of touching him suddenly made her much more nervous than it should have.

She pulled back for several heart-pounding moments before she seemed to think better of it. She braced her hands against his shoulders and let him help her down.

He slid his arms around her waist and hefted her onto the ground. But he didn’t let go of her. Instead, he stared down into her eyes for a long moment.

She had really beautiful eyes. They were a deep, rich brown that made him think of Miss Marshalyn’s mouthwatering brownies. Hunger shot through him, but it had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the sudden need to be inside of her.

Right here. Right now.

The sound of tires crunching gravel drew their attention. The front parking lot was still visible from their position, and they turned to see a silver Cadillac Town Car pull in. Houston quickly recognized the two women in the front seat as Martha Jane Miller, the police chief’s wife, and Jeanine Gilmore from the city council.

Sarah stiffened. “I really need to get back inside.” She stepped away from him and started to move past, but he caught her hand and drew her around.

“So do I.” He knew from the look on her face that she understood his meaning. “And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to slide a piece of popcorn down between those beautiful breasts of yours—” he flicked her top button for emphasis and let his fingers linger in the vee of her cleavage “—and play a little hide-and-seek with my mouth.”

Her gaze darkened at the prospect, and for the next few moments, her panic seemed to fade. “So your movie food of choice is popcorn, huh?”

“Actually, my movie food of choice is you, darlin’.”

“I—”

“Mornin’ Sarah!” Martha Jane Miller’s voice rang out, followed by the slam of doors as both women climbed from the car.

Panic lit Sarah’s gaze and she tugged away from him. “You have to go. I’ve got work to do.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When do we get together again?”

“I’ll call you.”

“You’re stalling.” He caught her gaze. “Don’t be afraid, Sarah.”

“I’m not afraid. Friday night,” she blurted. “The Majestic.”

“The Majestic?”

“One of the theaters over in Cherry Blossom Junction. They’re having a John Travolta film festival.”

“That’s a thirty-minute drive. Why don’t we go to the Twin Diamonds right here in town?”

“And have everyone in town see us?” She shook her head and tried to pull her hand free, but he wasn’t about to oblige her. Not yet. Not even with two of the city’s biggest gossips fast approaching. “That’s not a good idea.”

She was right, but damned if the notion didn’t bother him, anyway.

He grasped her hand firmly. “I’ll pick you up.”

She tried to tug free without making a scene. “I think it’s better if we just meet there.”

“There’s no reason for you to drive all that way by yourself. That’s crazy.”

She stopped trying to resist and leveled a stare at him. “This isn’t a date.”

“Damn straight it isn’t.” Houston Jericho didn’t
date.
Dating implied long term, at least in his book, and he didn’t have the time to invest in a woman for the long haul. “This isn’t about dating. It’s about safety.”

“Maybe so, but that’s not what everyone in town will think when they see us together. They’ll think ‘date.’” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “The less we confuse the two, the better for everyone. I don’t want to arrange anything other than when and where, and I don’t want to hold hands.”

She tugged loose and he let her go this time, despite the sudden urge to haul her into his arms, kiss her senseless and give the two old biddies a few feet away something to really wag their tongues about.

“The Majestic, then,” he said. “Friday. Eight o’clock.”

C
HERRY
B
LOSSOM WAS
a typical small Texas town located a good twenty minutes north on Farm Road 291. Small, but not minute like Cadillac. It had twice the population, as well as twice the number of grocery stores, feed stores and movie theaters—namely two of each.

The Majestic catered to an older set while the Big Bopper across town featured the latest teen movie. The billboard he’d passed on his way into town always had advertised the Big Bopper’s feature as a beach movie starring a current teen heartthrob.

Thankfully.

That put the Majestic’s parking lot only half full. He turned into a spot, killed the engine and climbed out of his truck. After rounding the corner of the building, he walked toward the marquis, where Sarah stood waiting for him.

She wore her usual subdued colors. Her navy skirt was soft and thin and fell in soft folds to mid calf. She wore a modest white blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked so sweet and wholesome and conservative…so unlike the wild girl he remembered, her hair hanging loose, her cheeks flushed from excitement, her jeans skin-tight, her blouses low-cut, her bright red boots polished to a fine sheen, and her eyes sparkling.

“I was starting to think that you weren’t going to make it.” She glanced at her watch. “The movie’s about to start.”

His gaze caught and held hers and he saw the fire in the warm chocolate depths of her eyes. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

For a split second, he thought she was going to shy away from him. She wore the same look of panic she’d worn in the shower. As if the chemistry between them was too overwhelming and he stirred a response that somehow frightened her.

The notion faded as she smiled. “Then we’d better get inside.”

“My plan exactly.” The comment drew a soft smile from her and she seemed to relax. “Now, let’s go. I don’t want to miss any of this.” He ushered her toward the ticket counter.

“I didn’t know you liked John Travolta that much,” she said.

“I don’t.” He slid the money across the counter, ignoring the five she held out, and then took the tickets and led her from the ticket counter. “This isn’t about John. It’s about sex.” He turned, his gaze locking with hers. “Isn’t it?”

“Um, yes.” She nodded and let out a deep breath. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. It’s really important that we keep things in perspective. I mean, it’s not that I don’t like you.”

“I say you like me a lot.”

“Maybe. And maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see that?”

He saw it, all right, and he didn’t like it one bit. And that was the damned trouble of it all, because Houston couldn’t afford to like Sarah. He didn’t want to like her any more than she wanted to like him.

It had to be just sex.

A few minutes later, he steered her into the dark theater. Sure enough, the place was only half full. Just enough people to make things interesting, but not enough to get in the way of what he had in mind.

He ushered her up the staircase to the last row at the very top. The lights dimmed just as they sat down. The screen came alive and sound poured from the speakers as the previews started. He had half a mind to slide his arm around her and pull her close. That’s what she expected. What he should have done. But the devil was in him right then and so he held back.

Waiting.

Letting the tension build.

The movie started, but he knew she wasn’t watching. He felt her gaze slide to his profile every few minutes, as if to say
Hurry up, wouldya?

He would. But not yet.

He settled back in his seat, willed his body to relax and fixed his gaze on the screen. They were a good halfway through the movie before he reached his limit and reached out.

He slid his arm around her shoulders and shifted in his seat. With his free hand, he reached over and touched her thigh. His fingers bunched, gathering the hem of her skirt until he’d pulled the material up over her knee. Fingertips touched warm, soft skin and desire bolted through him. She didn’t so much as look at him, as if she were dead set on ignoring him the way he’d ignored her.

She stared at the screen, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as if it was all she could do to keep still.

He trailed his hand up the inside of her thigh, relishing the warmth of her skin. His erection grew, pushing against the crotch of his jeans until he thought he would surely bust the zipper.

Under the demure skirt, she wasn’t wearing any panties. The realization sent a spurt of hungry desire through him and suddenly he couldn’t get to her fast enough. She was still every bit the wild child she’d been back then. She just hid it better now. From everyone except him.

He touched the wet heat between her legs. Her juices drenched his finger as he slid into her. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back and he waited to hear the familiar cry that had always driven him wild during the three encounters they’d had.

She hadn’t said a word during the shower enounter, but tonight would be different. He wanted to hear her, to know she felt as good as he thought she did.

He slid into her over and over, working the soft, tender folds. Her legs trembled and her fingers clenched the armrests, but she didn’t make a sound.

Tonight she wouldn’t hold back.

A rainbow of colors from the screen played over her expression, which left no question in his mind as to what she was feeling. Desire parted her lips. Excitement flared her nostrils.

“Move for me,” he murmured into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of her ear. She trembled beneath his touch.
“Move.”

Several heartbeats ticked by before she seemed to gather her strength. She shifted in her seat, drawing him deeper. He slid his finger in and out, making her squirm and gasp, over and over until she exploded. Her body milked his finger and tremors shook her, but she still didn’t so much as whimper. She held her bottom lip, her eyes closed, her face drawn in a tight, closed expression.

He withdrew and worked at the button of his jeans. The fastening popped open and he pushed the zipper down. His erection sprang forward. The seats in front of them hid everything below chest level and he knew that no one could see him. But they were there. So close. The notion stirred his blood almost as much as the beautiful woman sitting next to him.

He pulled a small foil packet from his pocket and slid on the condom, then urged her out of her seat and onto his lap.

She sank down onto him in one swift motion that stalled the air in his lungs and sent a burst of pleasure to his brain. He didn’t breathe for several heartbeats. He merely sat there feeling her pulse around him.

Her skirt fell around them, hiding the fact that he was deep inside her.

A groan rumbled from deep in his throat, so loud he knew someone had to hear. But no one turned around.

Not that he cared. With her so wet and tight around him, he didn’t care if the entire world looked on.

He slid his hands under her skirt and gripped her hips. He started to move her, but she took the lead. She moved her pelvis, riding him, her hands braced on the armrests on either side.

She rode him so hard and so good that he almost forgot his objective. Almost. But this wasn’t about his own orgasm. It was all about hers. About driving her over the edge and giving her such exquisite sensation that she would want even more. And more. And she wouldn’t—no, she couldn’t—hold back.

He slid his hands around and touched the soft curls at the vee of her legs. He explored her, feeling his erection where it disappeared into her hot, tight body. Moisture coated his fingertip and he spread it along the already slick folds. He stroked her, rasping her hot spot until it swelled and throbbed and her body tightened around his. She moved faster and he moved faster until she arched her back.

He pressed that sweet spot then and she cried out, the sound barely muffled as he twisted her around and caught her mouth with his own. He kissed her hard and deep as tremors racked her body and she climaxed. Her insides pulsed in a delicious rhythm that sent him over the edge into his own mind-blowing orgasm.

His heart thundered in his chest, the sound filling his ears and blocking out everything around them for several long moments. Then his breathing calmed and his blood slowed and the voices of John Travolta and his leading lady finally pushed past the frantic beat of his heart.

He didn’t want to move and he certainly didn’t want to move her. She felt too good surrounding him, her body warm and wet and…
home.

He pushed aside the crazy thought just as she pushed away from him. She settled back into her seat and straightened her skirt as he fastened his jeans and tugged his zipper back up.

And then she stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I’ve got an early shipment coming from Austin. Perennials.”

He caught her hand and tugged her around. “You’ve got to be friggin’ kidding me.”

“Our business here is finished.”

“The movie’s not done yet.”

“It’s not about the movie. You said so yourself.”

“Then I’m not done yet.” He eyed her. “Sit down and hold my hand.”

“This isn’t a date. This is number five.” She licked her lips still swollen from his kiss, and he barely resisted the urge to tug her down and kiss her again. And again. And again.

She would fight him. He knew it from the closed expression on her face and the determination in her eyes, and so Houston did the only thing he could at that moment.

He let her go.

H
OUSTON MEANT TO GO BACK
to the bed-and-breakfast, despite that it was early in the evening and the town was still alive. But when he reached the corner just a few houses away, he spotted Imogene pulling into the motel parking lot and so he turned his truck around and headed out to Hank’s.

He needed to focus in the worst way, to forget that he’d let Sarah walk away from him, to remember why.

Because it
was
just sex between them, and that’s all he wanted.

Harley was pitching hay in the rear of the barn when Houston arrived.

“Hey, there, Mr. Jericho!” the young man called out.

“Your dad around?”

“He’s up at the house. You here to ride?” His eyes lit with the same excitement Houston had seen that first day when Hank had told him they were firing up old Nell. A look that promptly faded when his dad rolled into the barn.

“’Course he is,” Hank said as he rolled up to them. “I saw you come up the road,” he said to Houston. “Let me get the generator cranked up in the tack room and you can climb on.” Hank disappeared into a nearby doorway.

“You can watch,” Houston told Harley when the young man turned back to his chores.

“That’s okay. I’ve got work to do,” he said, but Houston got the distinct impression that there was more than just a bale of hay holding him back.

“I don’t mind. It won’t bother me.”

“I’m not really into bull riding that much. My pa says he wants more for me than a bunch of bruised ribs and a mouthful of dust.”

“And what do
you
want?”

Harley’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve told me what your dad wants for you, but what do you want?”

“You heard my dad. I’m going to veterinarian school.”

“I heard him, but I didn’t hear you.”

“I don’t know the first thing about riding a bull.”

“Neither did I, but I learned.”

“I could never be that good.”

“You never know if you don’t try.”

The young man seemed to think for a minute, and Houston had the impression he was about to say something when Hank called out, “She’s ready to rip!”

Houston tied on the worn leather chaps he’d pulled out of the back of his truck. He dusted the legs and pulled his glove from his pocket. Stuffing his hand inside, he walked toward old Nell and climbed on.

“Open her up!” Houston yelled, holding on to the cinch strap for all he was worth with one hand, his other poised to counter his balance. The mechanical bull jerked this way and reared that.

He held on, his grip determined as the machine twisted and turned and jerked. His thighs were tight, his knees locked in the form that had won him so many championships as he focused his body on the ride. On getting faster. Better.

The damned thing was, he couldn’t focus his mind. He couldn’t think about the bull and nothing but the bull. Instead, he thought about Sarah, he saw her closed expression before she’d walked away from him. He felt the unease build inside him because he’d had half a mind to go after her.

She was pulling back on purpose. Pushing him away. Keeping her guard up with him the way she did with everyone else.

So?

So it bothered him. It bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have considering the only thing he wanted was to speed up his reaction time and sweep this year’s PBR finals.

Yep, that’s what he wanted, all right.

That and to complete the list with Sarah.

He sure as hell didn’t want to hold her hand in public just for the sake of hand-holding, or go to the movies with her just because he liked feeling her next to him, or help her out at her nursery because he actually liked the quiet and the calm of the damned place.

He lived for excitement. For fast times and fast women and the roar of an enthusiastic crowd—

The thought stalled as his body veered too much to the right, the bull went to the left, and he found himself airborne.

He slammed into the ground, but he didn’t stay down, despite his muscles that cried from the impact. Hauling himself to his feet, he turned toward the animal again.

And again.

And again.

An hour passed, then two, then three, until Houston was bruised and battered and felt as if he’d tangled with a real bull rather than a mechanical monster.

“Hold up,” Hank called out as Houston started to climb back on again. “It’s past midnight. I think we ought to call it a night. My arm’s tired and you have to be this close to passing out.”