Beware of the Cowboy Page 2

  “Cowboys?” Her head shot up from the mess and scanned the yard, seeing the two men heading around the backside of the barn, leading the colts away. “Cute?”

  “Oh yeah!” Liza pointed to a Beware of the Dog sign tacked on the red wooden planks of the barn. “They need to change that sign to, ‘Beware of the Cowboy’, ’cause that one’s a heartbreaker.”

  “Wow, you’re checking out the hired hands? He must have been something for you to go all doe-eyed on me.”

  Liza collected the last of the big glass pieces on a stray piece of fabric left over from the bows wrapped around the chair backs. “Here, dump it all on here. We’ll get the rental people to come get the rest. I’ll find us some scissors to fix the runner.” She started to head back into the house. “And I’m not doe-eyed, I’m horny.”

  “That cute? Sorry I missed them.”

  Chapter Two

  Liza gave herself a once-over in the mirror. She was still feeling light and a little sexy after a good self-induced orgasm—accompanied by fantasies of the dark-haired cowboy—while taking her shower. She’d decided to leave off the shirt and wear only the slacks and vest from her black pantsuit for the rehearsal dinner. The organizing was now complete and all she had to do was enjoy the weekend. Oh, she’d have last-minute details and decisions to make as the festivities proceeded, but the last two weeks of hard-core planning, ordering and constant consultations with Bobbie Dean were over.

  After getting slightly lost in the immense mansion while trying to find the huge dining room, Liza was exasperated but still smiling as she greeted a couple who had been clients in the past before heading for the bar. Yep, things were going well. They’d already made over forty thousand dollars for the SPCA and the write-up in this morning’s Dallas Herald had lauded the occasion, predicting it to be another winning charity event hosted by Main Events.

  Liza savored moments like this one. She looked around the room at the elite of Dallas society, all laughing, talking and enjoying themselves because of her efforts. And in the coming months, it was likely that many of them would be clamoring to secure her services. It was becoming very chic to have a DeLane-planned wedding or party.

  At times like this she could relax just a bit and let the past rest.

  She glanced down to the toes of her designer shoes. The marble flooring beneath was so polished she could see the reflection of the chandelier. How different her life was now. There had been no marble in the mobile homes she had lived in as a foster child, no glittering crystal chandeliers…

  “Liza, Liza!” Bobbie called, halting her slip into the past. “Come over here sweetie, I’ve got someone you just have to meet.”

  Bobbie Dean was standing in a small group, partially blocked by a large pair of shoulders. Liza quickly gazed longingly at the bar before heading toward Mrs. Dean.

  “Honey, I don’t think you’ve ever met my son, Blake. Blakely, honey, this is Ms. DeLane.”

  The shoulders turned as Liza stuck out her hand—and her chin dropped. The cowboy from this afternoon stood with his hand out and a teasingly smug smile. The absence of a hat revealed unruly dark brown curls, his strong jaw was now cleanly shaven, and the worn cotton shirt and jeans had been replaced with silk and linen. “We’ve met, Mother.” He took her hand. “Nice to see you again.”

  “I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Dean. I—”

  “Don’t mention it,” he cut in smoothly. “I like you all bossy.” He turned to his mother. “More wine?”

  “Yes, dear. Liza? Chardonnay, I believe?”

  Doing her best not to blush from embarrassment, Liza nodded then turned to Mrs. Dean as Blake walked away.

  “Mrs. Dean, I’m so sorry…” Liza steadied her shaking hands. Once more, she had proved to herself that no matter how good a working relationship she had with the Deans, she was still a hired hand. She desperately hoped that Blake Dean had not told his mother how she had practically thrown herself at a man she thought was a ranch hand.

  Now that she knew who he was, the resemblance to his parents was obvious. How could she not have seen it before? Probably because she was too busy drooling over him. That thought hit her and she swallowed, hard. How could she have mistaken the Deans’ son for a ranch hand?

  “I should have known he was your son,” she finished lamely.

  Bobbie raised her painted-on eyebrows, her shocking pink dress exaggerating her fair complexion. Her teased, chemically blonde hair was well coifed even though a few years out of style. Her round face was always wearing a smile and her eyes twinkled as if carrying some special secret known only to her. “Sorry, dear? You mean about fussing at him over his ponies?” She patted Liza on the arm. “Don’t be. He told me the story just as you came in. I couldn’t resist teasing you a bit.”

  “I don’t usually…fuss at my clients’ children, Mrs. Dean. I assure you—”

  “Goodness, dear. Mrs. Dean? Bobbie, please. And I’d have skinned the boy alive had I been there. You showed remarkable restraint if you ask me.”

  Liza considered how close she’d come to showing no restraint at all, and couldn’t help repeating the apology. “I’m very sorry, Bobbie.”

  “Really, my dear, stop apologizing. It’s good for him.” Her smile widened as she gave Liza another reassuring pat. “Very good for him.”

  Someone announced dinner from across the room before Liza could determine if Bobbie meant that she would be good for Blake or being fussed at was good for Blake. Surely, it was the latter.

  * * * * *

  At dinner Blake was seated across and one person down from Liza. Throughout the seven-course meal, she watched his big, rough-looking hands expertly navigate the silverware with grace and expertise. His dark brown hair was shiny and he’d obviously made a gallant but fruitless effort to comb it out of his face. His eyes were coffee brown, and he wore a lived-in, rugged face, devastatingly handsome, without the qualities of a pretty boy. Blake Dean was all man.

  His mother may have been extravagant in dress and personality, but underneath she had a subtle class. It showed in her home and she’d obviously passed that trait on to her son. He was polite, well mannered and graceful, not at all like the rough and tussled ranch hand Liza had bitched at earlier in the afternoon. The scoundrel hadn’t told her who he was as she lectured and fussed at him. He must think her a fool.

  The sound of her name brought Liza out of her thoughts. Blake and several other guests were looking at her. She felt a blush creep up her chest as she realized she had been caught daydreaming while staring at his hands.

  “After seeing your handiwork with my rope this afternoon, I’m guessing you’ve spent some time around horses?” Blake asked.

  The double entendre was not lost on Liza. “I’ve handled my share of ropes, Mr. Dean. It’s been a while, but that sort of thing stays with you.” Maybe he didn’t think her such a fool after all.

  Those brown eyes widened just a touch. “Lived on a ranch?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a ranch.” She heard the unintentional sobering of her tone as the memories rushed her. Painful memories of being moved from one piece of crap trailer park to another, her fate in the hands of an overworked caseworker who didn’t know Liza any better than the other kids in the system…

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the clinking of a spoon against crystal from the head of the table. She looked around the absurdly long table at the wealthy and powerful of Dallas.

  Blake watched sadness flit across her green eyes. He was relieved when no one pursued the subject. Watching her tip her glass after his mother’s toast, he wondered if that sadness was something permanent she kept hidden under that businesswoman veneer, or if he’d simply misread the expression. Then he wondered why he needed to know.

  At first, Blake thought this doggie wedding was another one his mother’s wild whims and flatly refused to have anything to do with it. After listening to his mother rattle on and on about Liza, and how they managed to turn it all into a charity event, he’d relen
ted and agreed to participate.

  Looking at the way that tight vest hugged Liza’s breasts, Blake was glad his mother was a tad bit crazy. He just needed this speech to be over so he could put his plan for the rest of the evening into action.

  After dinner, as the guests were moving into smaller conversations in the living room and library, Blake cornered Liza and her assistant. “So, Liza, what do ya say to a tour of the Dean ranch?”

  She looked from her assistant to him. “That would be nice. Your mother invited us for the entire weekend. Maybe tomorrow? We’ll be finished with the cleanup from the wedding by early afternoon.”

  “I was thinking a little sooner that that. I was thinking…” He stepped closer to her, ran his fingers over her bare shoulder and held her attention with his eyes. “I was thinking now.”

  This close, Liza got a good look at his features. He had a small scar across the bottom of his chin and the hair that had been tucked under his hat today was now slicked back on the sides. The loose curls on top ran riot and tumbled over his forehead. He smelled lightly of expensive cologne and his suit jacket hugged his shoulders almost as well as the old denim shirt had.

  What exactly were the cowboy’s motives? Was it a one-night stand with the hired help? And…so what if it was? A ride around the ranch could be fun. She could do this without letting herself get hurt. She could control the situation and everything would be fine. Couldn’t she?

  Liza peeked to the side to see Becky grinning madly. Go on, her friend mouthed.

  To hell with a raise, she needed to give Becky a partnership.

  She wanted to go, and why not? Becky was right—she needed to loosen up and live a little for herself instead of the business. “But it’s dark outside,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest in mock protest and shifting a hip to the side.

  “Exactly.” He took her arm and led her to the door.

  * * * * *

  “Where are we going? You know very well I can’t see the ranch from here. And as cute as it is, I’m way too old to be making out in a truck,” Liza said as Blake pulled the truck onto a dirt road that led away from the barn.

  “Don’t like surprises?” He didn’t look at her, but Liza could see his smile in the dashboard lights.

  She kicked off her shoes, put her feet on the dash and leaned her head back so she could look out the window at the stars. The ranch was huge and she was happy to bounce around the place in his truck. This was what she needed, to ignore the businesswoman and remember what she was like simply as a woman, to let herself have some fun and not feel like she was neglecting her work. “Oh I like surprises, unless they embarrass me in front of my clients.”

  Blake chuckled. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t resist. You were so sexy ordering me around like I was just another hand.”

  “So, spoiled rich boy likes to play at being a ranch hand too?”

  He slowed the truck to a stop and turned to face her. She was teasing, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help asking, “Would you be here now if I was just a ranch hand?”

  She smiled at him. Actually, if he were just another hand this would be so much easier. A simple quickie and then back to work. But Blake Dean—hot, sexy and rich Blake Dean—was another thing altogether. Would he still want to be with her once he knew her background?

  She glanced at him across the cab and for just a second, Liza saw vulnerability in his eyes. In his position, it would be hard to know if women liked him for his money or himself. How would he ever really know?

  In a way, it was so much like her own fears. Foster parents’ motives aren’t always noble. That people use and discard other people was a very hard lesson for a ten-year-old girl, but she had learned it well. True motives are difficult to discern. She certainly hid hers.

  Now all she had to do was decide what her motives were concerning Blake. She could get really hurt by this cowboy if she let him get too close, but she felt an overwhelming desire to indulge in what she’d been missing out on for years. She wanted to hold him and love him and prove that she wanted him just for him—not his money or his social status. Her body tingled with desire as she looked at his forceful chin and those deliciously full lips.

  “If you still had on those chaps…oh yeah, I’d still be here.” Following her body’s demands and ignoring her usual caution, she leaned over and lightly brushed her lips across his. They were soft and warm. She inhaled his scent. God! She missed the scent of a man, and his was raw and spicy. “When will we get to wherever it is we’re going, Blake?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before deepening the kiss, running her tongue across his bottom lip and then sucking on it.

  Letting her kiss him, Blake held one hand tight to the steering wheel. He was usually the one to make the first move, but this filly was making it clear she wanted him as much as he wanted her. When her tongue swept over his lips a second time, he reached for her and opened his mouth, letting his tongue meet hers. She tasted of red wine and apples. The feeling of her tongue meeting his made him rock hard instantly. Turning to get a better angle to devour her lips, he took her head in both hands and pushed his fingers through her hair, combing through it to get it out of the ponytail that held it. When he felt it fall free, he pulled away.

  He watched her face as he spread her hair over her shoulders. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see this loose.”

  “Since this afternoon?”

  “Nope, first time I saw you was at the last New Year’s bash. You were with some skinny guy. Then a month or so back, I was working in town when you came to see Dad.” He ran his finger across her eyebrow. “Oh, I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you. But I was hooked when you tied that halter out of a scrap of rope.”

  Liza sat back in her seat, satisfied that he’d gotten her message. “You like knots and rope, do ya?” She winked and put her feet back on the dash.

  “Somehow I always pictured you more of a city girl.” He put the truck in gear and started back down the gravel road.

  “I am now. But at one time I lived on a five-acre piece of dust in the sticks, out west of Ft. Worth, near Benbrook.” She watched his expression for any sign of condescension. She looked away when he only nodded.

  “A big shot in Dallas is a long way from a kid on a piece-of-dust farm in Benbrook.” This woman impressed him more by the second. He glanced across the truck to see her smiling out the window. Good. He liked a woman who knew her own worth.

  “I don’t know about big shot. We still have a lot of work to do. It’s not as if it will ever be Dean Petroleum or anything. I would say you’re the big shot around here.”

  “Hell, Dad’s the brains, not me. He made the company from nothing, which is just like what you’re doing. I study him every chance I get. I went to college but, even after all that, I learn more from hanging with the old man than I ever learned from my MBA.”

  “MBA?” She practically choked. This guy was amazing. Not only was he oh-so easy on the eyes, but she never imagined the hunk in the chaps would have brains too.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m more than just a pretty face you know.” They laughed as he pulled up to another big barn that was framed on either side by sagging mesquite trees. “The baby barn.”

  He got out and moved around to her door, stripping off his jacket as he walked. She was trying to get her shoes back on when he pulled it open. “Don’t mess with those.” He tossed his dinner jacket over the seat then scooped her out and carried her to the door.

  “What does it mean when you get carried across the threshold of a barn?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll just have to show you.” Setting her down on the soft loam of the walkway, he switched on the overhead lights before taking her hand and leading her down a row of stalls. No woman could resist the newborns. Hell, he couldn’t resist the cute little faces and tiny hooves of the foals. He slid open the door to the fourth stall, eased the mare to the back and clipped her halter to the tie-down on the back wall. �
��This one was born three days ago. Her name’s Tilly.”

  Liza fell to her knees by the tiny foal. “She’s so beautiful!” She held out her hand. “Hey, Tilly.” The mare nickered at them from the back of the stall.

  The foal had already been handled plenty by the ranch hands and didn’t shy away. Liza leaned in and nuzzled the foal, paying no heed to her designer clothes as she moved on her knees across the stall floor. He was glad his crew had done a good job mucking the stalls tonight. She was as graceful on the floor of a horse stall as she was in evening wear at a society dinner. Everything she said and did made him want her more.

  Not just that hot body—he wanted the woman inside.

  Leaving Liza baby-talking with the foal, Blake moved over to the storage area, pulled out a soft horse blanket and threw it over a pile of loose hay. He lit a battery-powered lantern and set it next to the blanket, calling out, “I’ll be right back.”

  Liza heard Blake move back toward the door and suddenly the barn was plunged into near darkness, leaving only a soft glow from nearby. Then he was back, holding out his hand. “Come with me.”

  Liza looked up from the foal, taking her time to follow the line of his slacks over his strong thighs and lingering on the nice thick tent in the loose fabric. She tarried even more, looking over his strong chest that the tailored dress shirt did such a wonderful job of highlighting. Then her gaze finally rested on the hungry look in his eyes, bedroom eyes that shimmered with desire in the dim lamplight. He wriggled his fingers, smiling wickedly. “Come on.”

  He helped her to stand but didn’t pull her closer. Reaching one hand up, he traced one side of the V-line of the vest she was wearing. When he reached the bottom of the V, he slid one finger between the vest and her skin and deftly unbuttoned the top button, all the while looking into her eyes. His face gave away his desire, his need. She held her breath, afraid to look away, afraid she might miss one tiny expression. The next button popped open.