Loving That Cowboy Read online

  “Hey, that was only a couple of days ago, how could I forget?” Cameron turned the sizzling steaks and Trisha wandered over to watch him, bemused by the attention he’d obviously paid her.

  “Beer or wine?” he asked as she stopped beside him.

  “White wine if you have it, please.”

  He opened a small fridge at the end of the counter and peered inside. “Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay?”

  “I’ll have the Chardonnay and have to say this is some restaurant.” She watched him expertly pull the cork and pour the wine for her as if he’d done it all his life.

  “People usually stay over when they come for a training clinic.” He handed her the glass and took a beer for himself. “I like to make everyone comfortable and give them a chance to relax after what often is a stressful day, especially for folks who either have problem horses or are just beginners.”

  “Do you get a lot of them?”

  Cameron considered her question while he placed the steaks on plates. “Usually there’s a couple every clinic. They often find that owning a horse is a very different ball game to hiring one for a trail ride or riding lesson. The smart ones do something about it.”

  “And the others?”

  “I feel bad for the horses.”

  They ate in silence and, when they were done, he refused her offer to help clear away the remnants of their meal but watched her as she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She obviously needed to relax and here, surrounded by whispering trees and with the open sky above her, he hoped she’d do exactly that.

  He picked up the wine bottle and in answer Trisha held her glass out for him to fill it. An owl hooted followed by a long drawn out cry that quavered on the night air. He saw Trisha stiffen, saw the startled look in her eyes.

  “Relax,” he murmured, hoping that his voice would calm her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms but he figured she needed her own space for a while. He’d seen her preoccupation on the trip home, sensed her doubt but wanted her to reach her own conclusions. “It’s only a coyote, probably be joined by one or two more yet.”

  As if confirming his statement one howl became two, then a cacophony of voices as more joined in the canine chorus. Trisha tipped her head back against her chair and listened. The uncanny sound chilled her bare arms and stiffened the short hairs on the back of her neck.

  Cameron left his chair and squatted beside hers. “Quite something, huh?”

  She looked up and saw the question in his eyes. Trust had nothing to do with the way her body responded and she took his hand when he offered it. He pulled her up to him and folded his arms around her, dropping a kiss on her head, feathering more kisses down her nose until his lips lingered over hers.

  The tip of his tongue searched the seam of her mouth and with a deep sigh she invited him in. He cradled the back of her head in one hand, threading his fingers through her hair. He held her close and one kiss became another, sweet and strong and driving all thoughts from her mind. When he did stop, he touched his fingers to her lips to prevent her saying anything and then drew her with him away from the patio.

  She couldn’t see a path, but knew there must be one as Cameron led her through the stand of trees behind the house. Moon dappled leaves rustled in the night breeze as they passed beneath overhanging boughs and then Trisha heard the soft babble of water.

  They emerged from the trees beside a shallow but swift running creek. She watched the rippling water for a moment and then knelt beside it, ignoring the dampness seeping into the knees of her jeans. She held Cameron’s hand for balance as she reached over and dabbled her fingers in the water.

  “It’s cold.” She shivered with the chill of it and shook the droplets off her fingers. As bright as diamonds in the moonlight they arced across the stream and fell back into the flow of the current.

  “That’s because it’s fed by mountain run-off,” Cameron explained. He kissed her again then pulled her down with him onto the grass beside the creek.

  Warmed by the comfort of his arm holding her and sheltered by his body, Trisha lay contentedly beside him, staring up at the night sky. The outline of leaves framed the brilliance of the canopy above her and took her breath away. She had forgotten how bright the stars could be, how dense the extent of the Milky Way. She tracked the steady path of a satellite and smiled when Cameron pointed at a shooting star. The moon rode high and full, its silver light competing with the stars surrounding it.

  The coyotes began to howl again and Trisha turned to Cameron. He shifted onto his side and his head came closer to hers, his lips brushed her temple, her cheek, before once more seeking her mouth.

  Trisha wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Oh Lord, but his hand felt so good as it slid up underneath her shirt. His fingers teased the edge of her bra then pushed it aside for his palm to replace the lace cup. She bit down on her lip to prevent a moan escaping as his thumb began to prescribe a slow, lazy circle around her nipple.

  Had he practised this move on a girl with long blonde hair and pink cowboy boots? Behind her closed eyes she felt a rush of tears.

  Don’t think of that now.

  Cameron shifted and buried his face in the warmth of her belly. She wound her fingers into his thick, dark hair and held on while he teased her belly button with his tongue. That small damp lick of heat set her body on fire as sure as a spark to tinder.

  Let him love you, just love him back.

  His kisses demanded more and Trisha gave it. She didn’t care if her lips would be bruised come morning or if she had the imprint of his fingers on her skin. His heart beat like a trip hammer under her hand and she loved that she had that effect on him. It had been so long since she had loved anybody, knowing that she didn’t deserve this most human of emotions. Was she wrong to want it so badly, even if only for a while because, sure as heck, he’d want nothing to do with her when he learnt the truth about her.

  And it would, she knew, be a matter of when not if. Damn the internet. He’d only have to plug in her name on any search engine as Brent Heywood must have done and it would give him hapter and verse on the part of her life she so wanted to close.

  Cameron trailed his fingers down her stomach and released the button on her jeans. His touch kindled every nerve in her body. When she drew in a sharp breath he slid his hand into the hollow between her waistband and her belly.

  “Black or burgundy?” he murmured as he eased her thong aside.

  “Neither,” she whispered back. “Want to find out?”

  “Not yet.”

  The night absorbed Trisha’s every gasp and sigh as they floated away on the breeze. Cameron’s fingers slipped lower and she parted her legs to ease his passage. The soft rustle of leaves above her head and the steady rush of water over the creek bed covered the sound of her moans.

  She could no longer think as his fingers stroked her slowly and gently. She didn’t want to think at all, only feel as a delicious all consuming pressure built between her thighs.

  Her lingering doubts slipped away in a haze of heat and wanting as she lifted her hips with increasing urgency while the coyotes yipped and sang at the moon. Their voices rose as surely as the deep need in her body and when their quavering notes tapered and faded into silence she collapsed, spent, in Cameron’s arms.

  * * *

  Contentment fit Trisha like a second skin as she lay in the warmth of Cameron’s bed, his arm heavy across her waist.

  He’d said nothing last night as he’d straightened her clothes then silently walked her back to the house and straight to his bedroom. He’d kissed her again, slowly stripped her and taken her to bed. The only sound he’d uttered was a soft shush when she would have spoken.

  She took her time opening her eyes to a room filled with morning light. The deep veranda roof prevented sunshine streaming in any further than the floor just inside the door.

  Cameron’s steady breathing told her he still slept and she did not want to disturb him,
so lay there in perfect peace matching her breath to his.

  She had no idea of the time, nor did she care. She simply relished being with him. For the first time in she couldn’t remember how long, a night passed without her sleep being disturbed by dreams. If she had dreamt, she had no recollection of it.

  Cameron’s arm tightened and he pulled her against him, evidence that he was waking firm against her bare buttocks. She turned to him in lazy delight, twining her arms about his neck and reaching to kiss his still closed eyes.

  He lifted her on top of him and she took her time loving him until the smile on his mouth told her he was fully awake. She kissed his face, his mouth, his neck while he guided her hips with his strong hands. Their breath shortened to quick, hard gasps yet neither spoke as their day started with complete and utter satisfaction.

  Trisha lay against him, loving the peace in their silence, not wanting to move or to have this moment end. Then Cameron scooted out of bed and strode naked down the hallway, leaving her in the rumpled cocoon of his bed. She pulled the sheets over her head to block out the sounds of cupboard doors opening and closing, the rattle of crockery and the buzz of the coffee grinder but when he came and stood beside the bed she knew she had to get up.

  He’d already pulled on a pair of clean jeans but held out his robe for her. She shrugged it over her shoulders and fastened the belt around her waist but it wasn’t until she once more sat on the veranda with Groucho on one side of her and Busby on the other that he smiled at her and whispered ‘good morning’.

  She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face as she took a mug of coffee from him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He raised his mug in a salute to her and then sat back in his own chair.

  She had no wish to break the magic of the moment but knew it would soon have to come to an end. It wouldn’t be long before he would want to be on the road to head back to Calgary. She heard him sigh and turned her head to watch him stretch out his long legs.

  “Do we have to go soon?” she asked.

  “Soon enough.” He stood up and stretched. “I’ve got a couple of horses to see to here then we’ll have breakfast.”

  Trisha nodded, in no hurry to offer to cook pancakes and eggs when she knew he could do it more quickly and fix a better meal than she could. She showered and dressed and with still wet hair waited for him on the veranda. The dogs had gone and she supposed they were with him. She wandered over to the barn but found it empty and quiet.

  He hadn’t said the horses were in there, only that he had to see to them. She stood in the doorway, looking down the driveway and across the corral. There was no sign of him and for a moment she thought she’d entered some kind of time warp. But then a movement in the tree covered slope behind the corral caught her attention.

  Her heart leapt at the sight of a pretty grey mare with a long-legged black foal alongside. She remembered another grey mare and another black foal, but pushed that painful memory aside and concentrated on Cameron instead. He rode the mare without saddle or bridle, and simply let her pick her way. The foal pranced ahead, then dodged between the slim trunks but rushed to its mother’s side again when they left the shelter of the trees.

  Cameron wore nothing more than his hat, jeans and boots. Sunlight gilded the dusting of hair on his bare, broad chest and her mouth dried at the sight as she watched him ride towards her.

  “You know each other pretty well,” she said as he halted the mare beside her.

  “Rosie’s home bred so I’ve known her all her life.” He drew his leg over the mare’s neck and slid off her back. “Her baby is just four months old now. She’s a registered quarter horse with the fancy title of Cash’s Dream Girl, but for now she’s my Sweetpea.”

  Shy but curious the foal nibbled Trisha’s fingers when she held out her hand, making her laugh. “Do you mind if I take some pictures?”

  “Be my guest.” Cameron draped his arm comfortably across the mare’s hindquarters.

  Not wanting to miss the best of the morning light, Trisha hurried to fetch her camera then squinted up at the sun to determine where the shadows fell and where would be her best vantage point. The mare watched her with mild curiosity from liquid-dark eyes as Trisha repeatedly snapped the shutter button, dropping to her knee for one shot or squatting down for another to make the most of angles and distance. At last she stopped and reviewed her shots. Cameron came and looked over her shoulder.

  “Damn, you are good,” he said admiringly as he watched her photos fill the viewing panel. In one shot she’d caught the full, dark globe of Rosie’s eye fringed by her long white eyelashes. In another she’d captured the delicate flare of Sweetpea’s nostrils. “These aren’t even posed.”

  “No, but if they were I’d have arranged a very different set up.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “For a start,” she explained, “I’d have you stand Rosie square on that level patch of gravel there, so I could see her feet clearly. I’d have you remove that baler twine from the fence, and move those buckets by the gate out of the way. I want to see the horse, not what’s around it and I’d use my Canon as it has a higher shutter speed.”

  Cameron laughed. “Now that kind of talk is as foreign to me as you say riding is to you.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek.

  Trisha nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His comment made her think she’d somehow given herself away. Or had Brent already set something in motion? Her doubts from yesterday swirled to the surface. In spite of the sunshine she shivered as Cameron gently hazed Rosie and Sweetpea into the corral. Rosie hung her head over the fence and Sweetpea reached up to nuzzle Cameron’s elbow as he leaned it on the top rail. She took one more photograph of the three of them.

  It might be all she had to remember him by.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’re like a damn genie in a bottle,” Samantha grumbled as they sat in her office. “Here one minute then poof, gone the next. Do I get brownie points for guessing where you were?”

  Trisha chuckled. “No, you don’t. And stop complaining. If I’m not here half the time it’s your fault for having connived to get Cameron to take me trail riding.”

  “Ah, the god in blue jeans. How is he?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “You’re still not going to tell me anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “You are so mean.” Samantha set down a stack of manila folders on her desk. “I’m aquiver with anticipation over your love life because mine sucks. Although, I must say you look very much better than the pale and pasty waif I picked up at the airport. I think you’ve put on a pound or two as well.”

  “Really? Where?” Trisha looked down at her still slim figure. “And for the record, you didn’t pick me up. Dee did.”

  “Oh, well,” Samantha hesitated with a frown on her face. “I meant to.”

  “She said you were having trouble with some girl over a contract.”

  “I’m always having trouble with contracts. Look at these.”

  Trisha picked up the top folder from the pile Samantha pushed towards her and leafed through it, surprised at the number of crossings out and hand-written side notes on the forms.

  “Everyone and his dog has a lawyer these days,” Samantha continued. “Lord knows I’m a very patient person but this is enough to drive a saint crazy.”

  “Patient? You?” Trisha raised an eyebrow. “Even on your best day, patience is not one of your virtues.”

  She continued to flip through the folders. Some of the demands were not unreasonable, others outrageous. A soft whirring sound made her look up in time to see sunscreens rolling down the windows.

  “Sensors,” Samantha explained. “They’re a god-send. Saves me a lot of time adjusting the blinds.”

  “All of six seconds I’m sure,” Trisha teased.

  Samantha made a face at her then looked up as Marguerite DeVries walked in.

  “You
called, I came.” Marguerite waved an imperious hand as she sank into a chair. “Oh, and I brought more photos of our models. I thought they might help Trisha pick her winner although I must say they all give me hot flashes and I’m not even menopausal.”

  She fanned her face as if to cool it off with a large, bulky envelope.

  Samantha took it from her and laid it on the desk. “What we have to tell you might give you a hot flash of another variety.”

  Marguerite raised an eyebrow as she looked at Samantha, than swivelled her chair and glanced at Trisha.

  “What’s going on here? Should I be worried?”

  “Possibly.” Samantha fidgeted with the edge of the envelope. “I may have been a bit hasty in putting Trisha’s name forward as your judge.”

  “It wouldn’t have been hasty had she told me exactly what she’d let me in for,” Trisha began hesitantly, still angry with Samantha but not wanting to start a blame game. “I’m sorry, Marguerite, had I known what was involved I’d have refused the offer because I’m best known for taking photos of horses, not people.”

  “I noticed you with a little group on Friday night. Samantha said they were friends of yours.” Marguerite gave her a calculating glare. “Was that guy you were with trying to influence you to pick his friend for first place?”

  “No, he wasn’t.” Trisha rubbed her clammy palms down her thighs, drying them on her jeans. She had to avert any suspicious thoughts Marguerite might have about Cameron. “But someone else is.”

  “Who?” Marguerite demanded.

  “Brent Heywood,” she admitted. “Believe me, it would be far better if I simply fade out of the picture. You can say I was sick or something. I know it’s far from professional but you don’t want Brent Heywood mouthing off about me. It would create bad press and question the validity of your event.”

  “Whoa. Just a minute, lady.” Marguerite pushed her chair back, got to her feet and strode to the window and back. “That’s a lot to hit me with the now the event is underway. What gives?”