Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? (22 page)

Lauren allowed herself to respond to his smile. A knot of tension uncoiled in her stomach. He’d handled the lunch as smoothly as she had, turning a potential disaster into an intriguing set of possibilities. She should be proud of him for reacting so well instead of criticising him for keeping a business secret from her. And he did have a point. She might have baulked at getting involved with someone on her client list.

She grabbed his hand, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. A group of construction workers whistled and bawled out lewd suggestions to Grayson as he kissed her back. He held her close and stared down into her eyes.

‘Does this mean you’ve decided we can be lovers
and
business associates?’

Lauren smiled. ‘As long as we keep our priorities in order, I don’t see why not.’ She gasped as he picked her up and twirled her around in a circle. The construction workers went wild and some tourists paused to watch the show.

When he put her down, she laughed out loud and they walked hand in hand down to sample the delights of Pier 39.

When her alarm clock rang, Lauren allowed Grayson to roll over and switch it off. Evening shadows crept up the pink silk walls of her bedroom enhancing the gilt fixtures and fairy-tale setting. After their exhausting morning, they’d decided to spend a couple of hours in bed before getting ready for dinner with Lauren’s parents. To Lauren’s amazement, she’d slept, cradled in Grayson’s warm embrace.

He set the alarm clock on the bedside table and grinned down at her. Lazily, she raised her hand and rubbed his roughened cheek with her knuckles. He grimaced.

‘I know, I need to shave.’

Lauren bit her lip and slid her other hand up his muscled bicep until she reached his neck. ‘Could you shave a bit later?’

His blue gaze sharpened and he smiled. ‘What do you have in mind, honey?’

In reply, she pushed him down until his face grazed her stomach. He rubbed his cheek against her soft skin and she purred in delight. His fingers slid between her legs and discovered just how wet she was. She gasped as he probed her belly-button ring with his tongue and then moved lower.

‘Open your eyes, Lauren. Watch me enjoy you.’

Grayson used his wide shoulders to open her legs. He pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed and slid it under her hips, presenting her woman’s softness to his mouth like an appetiser on a plate.

Lauren shivered at the first delicate lap of his tongue against her sex. He licked her again, the tip of his tongue hard against her swelling arousal. As he continued to caress her, his fingers slid in and out of her sheath in a complementary rhythm.

Soon, all she could think about was the slick sound of Grayson’s mouth and fingers working her towards a climax. She reached down and grabbed his shoulder. ‘I want you inside me when I come, please.’

He chuckled against her thigh and scraped his chin over her most sensitive parts. ‘Next time. Come for me now.’

She tried to hold back, to deny herself the gift he offered her, but her body clenched around his thrusting fingers. He took her into his mouth and suckled hard. She bit back a scream as her climax shuddered through her.

He continued to lick and stroke her gently as he changed position. Lauren lay back on her pillows, too exhausted to protest. He crawled towards her, one hand wrapped around the base of his huge erection. Lauren reached out and laced her fingers with his.

‘We’d better make this quick. I don’t want to be late for dinner.’

Grayson settled himself over her and looked disapproving. She bit her lip as he slid slowly inside her. ‘Quick’s not a word that works for me right now, Lauren. Let’s just agree to take all the time we need.’

He hooked her feet over his shoulders and knelt up, angling her pussy so that his cock rubbed hard against her sensitive flesh. He withdrew until she tried to follow him with a jerk of her hips. Holding her gaze, he licked his middle finger and probed the tight bud of her back passage.

‘Has anyone had you here, Lauren?’

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on his.

‘I’m going to.’

He added a second finger. ‘I like the thought of you being filled with my come in every possible way.’ He pressed his cock fully into her pussy, felt his own fingers through the thin wall as he slid past. ‘If I had my way, you’d always have my come somewhere inside you.’

Her pupils widened until there was almost no colour left. He eased another finger in, felt her tight muscles clamp around him. She didn’t need to know the full extent of his macho territorial thinking. He wanted his scent on her when they met her father. He wanted the old guy to know that Lauren belonged with him now.

‘Would you like that, Lauren?’

She came suddenly, surprising him with the extent of her passion. He held still and gritted his teeth against the desperate urge to spill in her. When she finished shuddering, he withdrew his cock and stared at his fingers still embedded in her.

‘You’re too tight for me to get into today. But we’ll work on it.’ He reluctantly removed his fingers. Ignoring the frantic ache in his cock that demanded completion, he went to the bathroom to wash up and then returned to the bed.

Lauren rolled onto her side and watched him return. He fitted her body against his and slid back inside her. She was so wet his cock almost slipped out of her with every stroke. He kissed her and deepened his thrusts until she moaned into his mouth and dug her nails into his back. He felt his come travel up his shaft and a heaviness in his balls.

As he released into her, his sexual glow was enhanced by the thought that there was no way Lauren’s parents would be able to ignore her ‘I’ve just been fucked by a cowboy’ smile.

Lauren frantically dabbed concealer over her flushed cheeks as Grayson shaved beside her. He caught her eye in the mirror and winked.

‘I bet you wish I’d shaved first now, don’t you?’

‘How did you guess,’ Lauren muttered as she studied her neck. Her fingers connected with a sore spot. She turned and glared at Grayson.

‘Did you have to give me a hickey as well? How old are you, thirteen?’

He grinned and slapped on some aftershave. Not hard enough for Lauren – if she’d been in charge of the bottle, his ears would be ringing by now.

‘Thirty-five this year but thirteen’s close enough for me.’ He bent to kiss the small mark on her neck, engulfing Lauren in a wave of citrus fragrance. She poked him in the chest and searched in her make-up drawer for heavy-duty concealer.

Grayson put on charcoal-grey pants and an aqua-blue shirt and tie which contrasted well with his eyes.

Lauren fiddled with mascara and blusher, too aware of him standing behind her. She glanced at her gold watch and screeched, ‘Oh my God, it’s well past seven. We’re supposed to be there by now.’ She glanced back at Grayson who was putting on his jacket. ‘Did anyone call?’

He shrugged. ‘How should I know? I’m not allowed to touch your phone any more am I?’

Lauren stuck out her tongue at him, then walked into her closet and studied the row of dresses. What should she wear? Her father would expect something smart and expensive. He’d bought half the clothes in her closet after complaining that she looked too weird in her business attire and too scruffy in her jeans.

She tried her usual trick of closing her eyes and sticking her hand out. She pulled out a short black dress covered in jet beads. Great. Black suited her mood. It complemented the impending storm she imagined gathering on the horizon of her personal life.

‘Don’t wear that.’

Lauren turned and bumped up against Grayson. Damn, the man looked great in a suit and even better out of one. Her body leant into his as if seeking the source of the sexual explosion he’d put her through earlier.

‘What’s wrong with it?’

Grayson took the hanger out of her hand and slotted it back on the rail. ‘Black’s not the best colour on you.’ He smiled at her, his left hand caressing her butt. ‘I wish I’d brought your cowgirl outfit along with me.’

With the air of a man with a purpose, Grayson flicked through the row of dresses. He continued talking as he looked. ‘I bet you didn’t buy any of these. They just don’t seem to be your style.’ He stopped and studied her expression. ‘Daddy bought them, right?’

She nodded. ‘But I need to wear one tonight, Grayson. I don’t want to . . . disappoint him.’ She hated the way his expression changed when she said that. He obviously thought she was a weak-minded idiot. Of course, he had no idea what her father was capable of. And perhaps he was right. She tried to make a joke of it. ‘Look, we’re already going to be late and Dad’s preprogrammed to hate you on sight. If I wear something he approves of at least I’ll get brownie points for that.’

Grayson turned back to the rail. ‘OK, but let me pick the dress, please?’ Within seconds, he handed her a sage-green chiffon dress with subtle gold embroidery on the bodice and hem. ‘Try this one.’

He helped her into the dress, zipping up the back, kissing her shoulder as he connected the last hook and eye.

Lauren studied her reflection in the mirror. She’d never worn this particular dress before. On the hanger, it looked flowery and insubstantial. To her surprise, it brought out the unusual colour of her hazel eyes and the A-line skirt emphasised her narrow waist. She smiled into Grayson’s eyes. ‘It’s all right. I look OK.’

He wrapped his arms around her waist and put his chin on her shoulder. ‘No, you look beautiful.’ He kissed her throat. ‘The trouble is now I want to tear it off you and take you back to bed.’ He hesitated. ‘Hell, I’m not your father. I’m not supposed to dictate what you wear. If you hate it, take it off and wear the black.’

Lauren elbowed him in the ribs and he stepped back. She found some gold sandals and a small matching evening purse, and then went to put on her lipstick.

Grayson leant against the wall and watched her. ‘The dress you wore last night, was that one of your father’s presents?’

‘No, that was from Ella. She found it for me in a thrift store in Berkeley. It’s one of my favourites.’

Grayson looked pleased. ‘I’ll have to thank Ella. I liked that dress. It had distinct advantages.’

She darted him a reproving glance. ‘For you, maybe. I felt half-naked.’

Grayson closed his eyes and smiled as if remembering something good. When he opened them again, Lauren had to force herself to stop looking at him. She dabbed face powder across her cheeks and picked up her purse.

‘Are you ready?’ Grayson asked. ‘I’ve called a cab. It’s going to be OK, Lauren.’ He strolled towards her carrying her long black coat. He helped her into it, his fingers warm on her bare arms. ‘Trust me, I can be very charming when I want to be.’

Grayson studied the brightly lit hall as Lauren took off her coat and handed it to her father’s butler. The butler, of course, had an English accent and referred to Lauren as ‘Miss Laurie’ as though she were still ten years old.

The circular hallway was paved with cream limestone tiles. A crystal chandelier hung from the fifteen-foot high ceiling illuminating the genuine French antiques positioned in the enormous space. Grayson studied a portrait hung in between the double staircase. Paul Redstone stood behind a chair, which contained his wife and a little blonde-haired girl. Mr Redstone’s aggressive stance dominated the picture as he appeared to dominate his family in real time.

Grayson touched Lauren’s elbow and pointed at the portrait. ‘Is that you?’

‘Yes, although the artist made me look more angelic than I ever was. My mother had to bribe me with candy to make me sit still for more than five minutes.’

Grayson tightened his grip on Lauren’s arm. If he had a daughter wouldn’t he want to protect her from any man who even dared to look at her? He suddenly felt some sympathy for Lauren’s father.

‘Shall we go up?’ Lauren said. ‘My parents are waiting for us.’

Lauren took his hand and Grayson allowed her to lead him up the white-carpeted stairs. A couple stood framed in the double glass doors leading to a drawing room. Grayson deliberately focused his attention on Lauren’s mother. She was slender for her age, her body shape reminiscent of Lauren’s. The only things that jarred were her features, which had obviously been improved upon by a plastic surgeon.

She wore a short green suit and several gold necklaces. When she held out her hand to Grayson, it seemed weighed down by the huge rings and chunky bracelets which adorned it. He smiled reassuringly into her wary eyes as her hand trembled in his.

‘I’m Grayson Turner. Thank you for inviting us here this evening.’

He turned to greet Lauren’s father. They were much of a height, although Paul Redstone was heavier in build. His hair was silver, his eyes the same volatile hazel as Lauren’s. His handshake bore none of the timidity of his wife’s. It was a true politician’s handshake – just enough pressure to command respect and not enough to overwhelm. It reminded Grayson of his father.

‘Grayson Turner, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

He met Mr Redstone’s aggressive stare straight on. He’d learnt long ago how to judge an opponent. From his belligerent expression, Grayson knew that Lauren’s father considered himself one of the big sharks. In his world, Grayson probably figured as a bottom feeder.

‘Mr Turner. I’ve heard so little about you.’

‘Please call me Grayson, sir.’

Grayson stepped back as Mr Redstone allowed Lauren to kiss his cheek. He frowned as he looked at her dress.

‘Why did you wear that old thing? It’s two seasons out of date.’

Lauren smoothed down her skirt and gave her father a bright smile. ‘Then it’s a classic. I like it. You know I never wear anything new. Who cares?’ She gave Grayson a sidelong glance. ‘At least it’s not black and boring.’

Mr Redstone ushered them into the drawing room. Again Grayson was assailed by the unobtrusive smell of too much money. Everything in the room had been chosen with exquisite care to display quiet wealth and opulence. His gaze settled with deep appreciation on an original Picasso hung over the fireplace.