The Maverick Meets His Match (31 page)

“This isn’t our room,” she said. “Least not anymore.”

His chuckle was warm and knowing, and he looked down at her with a wide smile on his face. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I should hope not.” Still holding her hand, he opened the door and gave it a little push so it swung wide.

There stood a crib in place of the twin beds. A beautiful walnut-tone crib with a curved backboard. Against the wall next to it was a matching dresser, and on top of it was a toy airplane.

He looked at her expectantly. She was literally speechless.

He frowned. “Did I get the wrong color or something?”

“No,” she said, finding her voice. “It’s just…when did you get this?”

“I went out today after…after we decided to have a kid. I took one of the ranch’s pick-up trucks. Only I didn’t realize you needed to put this stuff together. Took me the better part of two hours.” He walked over and touched the railing and gave a little shake. He turned to her. “See, it’s sturdy. It’s convertible too.”

“I see.” She was still amazed that he had done such a thing. She walked forward and touched the rail. It was real wood and looked expensive—and complicated to put together. She looked up into his eager face. “It’s beautiful.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it might be considered bad luck to buy things for a baby that was not yet conceived, much less born.

“I put the twin beds in storage in the basement and sealed up the mattresses in plastic covers.”

“And you bought a toy airplane.”

He nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “Boy or girl, I figure they’ll enjoy it. It has a remote control.”

The grin on his face was downright boyish. But when he turned to look at her, his expression had turned serious.

He cupped her chin. His hands were warm. His thumb brushed over her cheek, and he rested his forehead against hers, blocking out everything else, engulfing her and sucking up all the oxygen in the room. “I want everything to be perfect for our baby, Mandy. For as long as it lasts, I’d like everything to be perfect for us as well.”

Her heart swelled, and she tried to breathe, as it seemed her heart was pressed against her lungs. His mouth swept over hers. She wanted him. She wanted all of him. And she wanted more from him than she knew he was willing to give.

The kiss was deep, full, and with a tongue that performed a sensuous dance with hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on, giving as much as she could. There was no reason to hold back. They had successfully negotiated an agreement that would be a win for both of them, regardless of what he did to the company. She could finally let herself go, enjoy the guilty pleasure he conjured up every time she looked him.

While his one hand cupped her chin, his other wrapped around her and tugged her tight against him. She gave herself over to the sensuous pleasure of having a man make love with his mouth.

When he broke the kiss, he leaned back to gauge her reaction. She wasn’t sure what he saw, but his half-cocked smile said he was pleased. So did the hard rod tenting his jeans.

“You kiss like a fucking goddess.”

She flushed. He was to blame for making her feel sensual and wanton and wild.

“Hopefully you’re tempted,” she said.

“Tempted? I’m goddamn addicted.”

This time she initiated the kiss, caressing him with her lips, enticing him with her tongue, and wrapping her arms around him like a python hugging its meal.

His hands brushed down her back, pressing her closer, against his hard body, sending little shivers of anticipation through her. She wanted him. She wanted him inside of her. She wanted him deep inside of her.

Before she realized what he was doing, he’d lifted her off the ground, cradling her in his muscular arms.

“We’re going to bed,” he said, heading for the hallway. “We’ve got a crib to fill.”

Mandy stepped out of the office building and into the bright sunshine of a late September morning. Ty was off doing god-knew-what, and so it was left to her to decide what bulls would be used for next weekend’s rodeo. She headed toward the pens. This next rodeo was a big one, and they would be expecting Prescott’s best.

The days had melded into weeks, and the weeks into months, and she still wasn’t pregnant. The sex, however, was mighty incredible. The attraction she felt for Ty had grown stronger with the knowledge that each time could be the moment they conceived their child. She had tried not to get too hyper about the ebb and flow of her cycle. Her doctor had warned her to simply relax and let it happen, as it surely would, given they were both healthy and everything was working.

She had tried to push from her mind any idea Ty would sell her company. He’d promised to advise her if any realistic offer came their way, and so far, none had. And she’d asked. Though it was known on the circuit that Prescott might be for sale, apparently tight credit and a struggling economy were giving any serious buyer pause. And Mandy didn’t consider Stan Lassiter a serious buyer, given his lowball offer.

It was true that negotiations on future contracts had been hampered by the rumors, since the rodeo circuit was a small community. But in just two more months, it would be over, and Prescott would be hers, free and clear. She could endure until she could announce with certainty that Prescott was
not
for sale, was off the block, was staying in the family for good.

Surprisingly, Ty had thrown himself into running Prescott like it would always be his, and it had been weeks since he’d brought up the prospect of selling. He’d worked every rodeo, like he promised, and he actually seemed to enjoy it. While they both worked on contract negotiations, she had become the front person, building up the relationships with the rodeo committees and managing the crew at the site, while Ty did the backroom stuff, such as drawing up the contracts, working out the logistics, developing the budgets, and setting up the schedule, freeing Harold to concentrate on the breeding program and the quality of the stock for each event. Once the responsibilities had been sorted, Mandy was surprised at how well they worked together. When Ty left, she would miss his contribution. Who was she kidding? She’d miss him.

That knowledge had been creeping up on her for weeks now.

A fly buzzed around her head, and she swatted at the air, hoping the insect would move on.

She liked being married. She liked having someone to share the day with, having someone who cared about her, someone who noticed.

She liked being married to Ty. The fringe benefits were amazing. But he also understood the business, more than she expected from a mere lawyer. She could talk to him about everything and anything, and he was interested, knowledgeable, and helpful. And the crew seemed more accepting of him. He’d even been invited to one of their poker games.

It was all too easy to imagine they were really married. Really running Prescott Rodeo Company together.

He acted married. He’d take her out to dinner on a whim, just to give her a lift after a particularly hard day. When they weren’t on the road, he’d make coffee for them in the evening, and they’d sit together sipping their coffee in the library as they watched some silly show on TV. And almost always, he’d find some excuse to lean over and give her a sweet kiss. That kiss would lead to more kisses, and before the next commercial she’d be gathered in his arms and they’d be helping each other unwind.

A smile crept across her face as she ambled along the gravel path, past the small arena they used for exhibitions, to the horse paddocks and corrals where the bulls were kept. She waved away the horseflies in a vain attempt to keep them from biting her bare arms, since she had on a sleeveless top. There was a mild breeze today, a reprieve from the recent heat that made denims cling to clammy legs.

Life was surprisingly good. And she wanted it to continue, but how was that going to happen? Ty hadn’t said anything about the future. He hadn’t talked about his job, whether his condo had sold or even if it was still on the market.

And she hadn’t asked. She was too afraid of the answers.

Rounding the corner of one of the barns, she shaded her eyes against the sun and focused on the pens holding some of Prescott’s prize bulls. Standing at the corral gate was Ty with a man she didn’t recognize.

Why would a strange man be looking over her premier bull stock? Rodeo committeemen didn’t routinely visit rodeo suppliers. Her stomach did a somersault. What if Ty hadn’t given up on selling Prescott?

She marched toward the two. Watching them appraise her bulls caused an ache deep within her, as if someone had driven a blade into her stomach and was pushing on the heel of the knife, making sure it went in deep.

Engrossed in conversation, neither man noticed her until she was within a yard of them. Then they turned.

The stranger was probably midforties, if the lines on his face were an indicator, handsome in a boy-next-door kind of way, and wearing the denims and plaid shirt that marked him as a rancher—or rodeo supplier.

“Mandy? What are you doing here?” Ty asked. He sounded like she had just caught him up to no good. Her heart sank. Ty wore a black Prescott Rodeo Company T-shirt and a pair of leather chaps over dusty denims, with a cowboy hat covering his thick head of hair. The chaps were something new.

He might look the part of a PRC cowboy, but that was just an illusion. Just like their marriage. Ty was no more part of PRC than the stranger. Not if Ty could sell the company.

“I could ask you the same,” she said. “Hi, I’m Mandy Prescott…Martin.” She thrust out her hand. She still hadn’t gotten used to her full name.

Ty straightened. “My wife. Mandy, this is Cody Lane, livestock director for the AFBR.”

A rush of relief pulsed through her. The AFBR. Not a rodeo contractor. Someone who contracts
for
rodeos.

She shook his hand, the man’s grip firm and reassuring. “Pleased to meet you.”

As relief subsided, guilt took over. She’d actually thought Ty would sell her company—after all they’d done together these last four months. Only he wasn’t going to sell it. He was working to strengthen it.

“What brings you to Prescott, Mr. Lane?”

“Cody.” The cowboy smiled, showing a pair of fine white teeth. “Ty asked us to come by and take a look a while back, and since I was in Cheyenne at one of the tour stops, I thought I’d swing by.”

“Ty has rounded up some of our finest.”

“I was just giving Cody the rundown on some of these bulls, Mandy, but you know them as well as anyone.” Ty shot her an encouraging smile. Dusty boots, dusty chaps, dusty hat. Her cowboy husband. Just seconds ago, she’d been ready to believe the worst. Now she felt a warm glow suffuse through her. Was this love she’d been feeling lately? Was she falling in love with him?

The thought sparked along some invisible electric wire.

It took a beat before she could shift her gaze to Cody. Hoping the man hadn’t noticed and wondering if Ty had, she began to fill Cody in on each of the bulls, its pedigree, its bucking prowess, its stats, and its idiosyncrasies. As if cued, a few bulls started prancing around their pens, eager to put on a show.

“I wonder if someone’s around who’d be willing to give me a demonstration of these bulls’ abilities,” Cody asked when she’d finished.

“When you called this morning, I started rounding up some of the hands, just in case,” Ty responded. “We can stroll to the exhibition arena, and I’ll have the bulls moved over.”

Why hadn’t he told her someone from the AFBR was coming if he knew this morning? She supposed the important thing was they had an opportunity to showcase Prescott bulls for the AFBR. The fact Ty still operated, on occasion, like a lone wolf, well, that was a small price to pay.

Because if they got the AFBR contract, there could be no reason they’d have to sell, should sell. The fact Ty had pushed for this warmed her in ways that made her want to run into his arms and kiss him silly. But that would have to wait until after Mr. Lane took his leave. Still, she couldn’t keep her heart from floating.

It didn’t take long for the bulls to be shifted to the chutes in the small arena they used for bucking schools. Several cowhands, having heard about the demonstration, had wandered over to participate and watch. Mandy and Cody Lane hung by the back fence where they could get a good view of the action.

One by one the hands took a turn, and the bulls showed off, landing most cowboys in the dirt. Never one to miss a rodeo opportunity, Tucker was one of the last to ride. A bronc rider by trade, it took four seconds before he was unceremoniously dumped. Gratefully, Tucker had on his helmet, a safety measure insisted on by her mother if and when Tucker rode bulls.

One more bull left to ride, and it was the whirling dervish that had pinned her in the parking lot. Straining her neck to see who was getting set to ride him, her stomach lurched to her throat.

Donning Tucker’s helmet, Ty was taking instructions from the hands as he eased his strong chap-clad legs down and around the snorting bull.

Panicked, Mandy was set to run toward the gate and stop the craziness, when, with a terse nod from Ty, the chute gate opened and Mandy’s throat closed. Eight seconds was an eternity, as any rough-stock rider could attest.

The bull whirled to the right and then jumped, kicking its back legs out. Ty was still on, barely, as the bull switched direction and bucked hard and high. Ty flew through the air like a missile, landing with a thud on the hard ground. Things seemed to move in slow motion as Mandy tried to scramble up the fence. Any thoughts of the bull and the danger it represented had evaporated as soon as she’d heard the thud of Ty’s body hitting the ground. One of the cowboys distracted the bull as Mandy climbed toward the top rail. Her focus was on the heap that was Ty. But she stalled at the top. She saw a leg bend, then a torso lift, and Ty was on his feet. He unbuckled the helmet and swung it off, a big old grin on his dirt-streaked face.

The thin crowd of cowboys hooted and whistled. And that, Mandy realized, was the reason Ty had done it. To show the men he was one of them, that he had the true grit of a cowboy and wasn’t just some interfering suit. It was a lot to risk just to prove a point.