KISS ME, COWBOY Read online

  Frustration bubbled inside Nora. Not that she'd been all that excited about being kissed by Bill Hammond. Actually, just remembering the feel of his mouth on hers was enough to give her a cold chill. But he had, after all, been the only man offering. She swiped one hand across her forehead, pushing that one drooping curl back into place, and as she did, her brain seemed to clear briefly.

  "What was I thinking?" she muttered.

  "Sort of what I was wondering," Mike said.

  She looked up at him, grateful to see that he was just a shade less blurry than before. But blurry or focused, he was more than worth a look or two. And it wasn't just his good looks or forest-green eyes. There was just something about Mike. Something … solid, dependable. As sturdy as a brick wall and just about as funny. Mike generally wasn't much of a smiler. "Okay, fine, Bill was a mistake."

  "Granted. The question is, why were you about to make it?"

  Nora huffed out a breath. "It's not like I had a lot of choices, you know."

  Mike shook his head. "I still don't have a clue what you're talking about."

  "What I'm talking about is, you ruined the plan."

  "What plan?"

  "It's your fault," she said again. "You messed it up, so you owe me."

  "I peeled a jerk off you."

  "Exactly," she snapped, and narrowed her gaze on him as he swayed back and forth. "And stand still."

  "I'm not moving."

  "Oh, boy. That can't be good." She frowned at him. "Are you laughing at me?"

  He held both hands up in mock surrender and shook his head, while managing to hide his smile. "Not a chance."

  "You have to promise to help me."

  "Help you what?"

  "I'll tell you after you promise to help."

  "I don't do blind promises."

  "But you owe me."

  "Stop saying that."

  "Then promise."

  Mike glanced around. Everyone else was still inside, but he didn't know how long that was going to last. Nora was still unsteady on her feet and her blue eyes were just a little hazy from too many margaritas. Plus, it seemed as though she was willing to stand here and argue forever. He figured the only way out of this was to promise to whatever it was she wanted. Then he could pour her into his car and take her home. Hell, she'd probably forget all about this mess when she sobered up, anyway.

  "Okay, fine. I promise." Taking her arm, he steered her toward the parking lot again.

  She pulled free.

  Stubborn, he thought, and waited for whatever was coming next.

  "Oh." She blinked, then smiled. "Well, good then. That's better." She reached out and patted his chest with the flat of her hand. "You are a prince among tides … no … a prince among … princes!"

  "That's me. Prince Mike." He took her hand in his and tried not to think about the flash of heat that stabbed through him with that simple touch. It had been way too long since he'd felt the kind of electrical charge that was even now sizzling along his bloodstream. Hell, until that moment, he'd have been willing to bet his "lust-o-meter" was broken. But apparently not. Oh, yeah. Best to get her home fast. Best for both of them. She was too tipsy for him to be thinking what he was thinking. "Now. I'll take you home before you get into more trouble."

  "I wasn't in trouble," she argued.

  "Not what it looked like to me."

  "Hey, you think it was easy for me, flirting with everybody in the room?" Nora pulled her hand free of his and poked him in the chest with the tip of her forefinger. "You think it's easy to pretend to be interested in how Adam Marshal tunes an engine? Or to look fascinated when Dave Edwards described his white-water rafting trip for the fifth time?" She sighed heavily. "And that's not even counting the times I had to hear the mayor practice his Founders Day speech."

  "Sounds pretty bad."

  "You have no idea."

  "So why do it?"

  She shifted her gaze to look out over the darkened clubhouse grounds. "Because I'm twenty-eight-years-old and the kid I used to baby-sit just got married."

  "And that means…"

  Disgusted, she turned her gaze back to his. "It means, that unless I make some changes, I'm looking at old-maidhood."

  "Are you nuts?" Mike took a good, hard look at her. Every one of her curves was outlined to perfection. Her blue eyes flashed in the dim light tossed by the lamps overhead and her honey-blond hair shone like gold.

  "Nuts? Probably," she said on a heavy sigh "But this is so much worse. I am the last of a dying breed. A dinosaur. A … what else is extinct?"

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I'm a virgin."

  "A virgin?" Well, she had his attention now. He took an instinctive step backward, as if trying to keep a safe distance between them.

  "Say it a little louder. I don't think the folks in the back row quite caught it." Then she laughed, but there was no humor in the sound as she studied his expression. "Ah, and there's the 'look.' Honesly – honestly … poker? Not your game. All of you guys react to a virgin like a vampire to sunlight." She turned her back on him and started off down the walkway toward the parking lot again, muttering with every step. "That is so like a man. Say the word virgin and he leaps out of the way as if a bullet's aimed at his heart."

  "I didn't leap."

  "Hah!"

  Mike followed after her and when he caught up, he grabbed her upper arm and spun her around to look at him. Then he reached up, shoved one hand through his hair and tried to concentrate. But hey, it wasn't easy. He hadn't guessed there were any virgins over the age of twenty.

  "You caught me off guard, Nora."

  "Yeah," she said glumly, lifting her gaze to his. "It's a real icebreaker." Sucking in a gulp of jasmine-scented air, she continued. "Anyway, the point is, I was trying to find someone to help me with my … situation."

  "Bill?" he asked, astonishment coloring his tone. "Bill's the guy you picked?"

  Instead of answering that question, she asked one of her own. "I look pretty good, right?"

  His gaze swept her up and down before settling back on her face again. "Oh, yeah."

  "I'm reasonably intelligent."

  "I thought so, until a few minutes ago."

  She gave him a tight, un-amused smile. "So getting rid of my … problem should be fairly easy, right?"

  He wasn't so sure about that. Speaking for himself, he wasn't about to get too close to a virgin. For her, sex would take on more meaning than it should. It would evolve into white-picket fences and family dinners and babies and – he slammed a mental door on his thoughts. No way was he going to get wrapped up in this. Nora was a nice-enough woman and, God knew, she filled out a little black dress better than anyone he'd ever seen before, but he just wasn't the man for her.

  For anyone.

  "Nora…"

  "You said you'd help."

  Panic reared its ugly head. "I promised to help," he qualified. "Not to—" He stopped talking and stared at her for a long minute.

  But she wasn't listening. Stepping up close to him, she fisted both of her hands on his lapels and went up on her toes until she was looking directly into his eyes. "I don't wanna be an old maid. I don't wanna bunch of cats. I want babies. I want family. I—"

  Even in the dim light, he saw her face pale and her eyes go wide and round. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh," she said softly, letting him go and lifting one hand to cover her mouth. "I am so far from okay."

  Nora's stomach roiled uneasily and she swallowed hard, fighting for control. Deep breaths, she told herself, and tried to put that thought into action. But it didn't seem to be helping. Her head was swimming, and her stomach pitched and dived as if it were a tiny boat in the middle of a stormy sea. "Oh, boy," she muttered, concentrating on the misery sliding through her body.

  "Maybe I should just take you home."

  "Yeah. Good idea."

  With his warm hand cupping her elbow, she focused on the heat of his skin to fight against the chi
lls sweeping through her. Tipping her face back into the breeze, she pulled in several deep breaths and told herself silently that nausea was just mind over matter. Mind over matter. Mind over—

  "Oh, God." She pulled away from him, leaned into the shrubbery and was thoroughly, violently ill. Her brain raced, pointing out all the ways she'd managed to humiliate herself on this one glorious night.

  She'd flirted shamelessly – and badly. She'd allowed Bill Hammond, of all people, to kiss her. And, to put a cap on the evening, she was throwing up a lung in front of Mike Fallon. Oh, yeah. This had gone well. She might as well go buy her first starter cat.

  Her big night of seduction had turned into a cautionary tale.

  But as the spasms of sickness slowly passed, Nora became aware of a cool, dry hand on her forehead and the sound of Mike's soft, soothing whispers. As embarrassing as this moment was, she was glad he was there. The only thing worse than being sick in front of someone was being sick all alone.

  Straightening up, she inhaled deeply and noticed that the haze in her brain was completely gone. It had been replaced by a pounding bass drum, but at least she could think and see again.

  Mike handed her a handkerchief. As she took it, she smiled. "Thanks. I didn't think anyone carried these anymore."

  He shrugged. "Just an old-fashioned guy, I guess."

  And, apparently, a nice-enough guy to completely avoid mentioning her most recent humiliation.

  "So," he said. "You still want that ride home?"

  "Yeah. Thanks."

  On the short ride to Nora's place, Mike studied her. With most of the alcohol out of her system, he was guessing she was beginning to regret telling him all about the whole "virgin thing." And frankly, he'd be just as happy to forget about it himself. As it was, he'd been doing too much thinking about Nora now that he'd seen her out of her jeans and into something he couldn't help imagining getting her out of.

  Hell.

  His fists tightened around the steering wheel and he told himself to just keep his mind on the road. To not think about the swell of her breasts above the low cut neckline of that dress. And, while he was at it, he really should keep the image of her legs out of his brain. And just to be on the safe side, he figured he'd start forgetting about the curve of her rear and the soft shine of her hair and—

  Hell.

  He steered the car down her street and barely glanced at the tidy lawns and picture-perfect houses as he drove down to the middle of the block. Pulling into her driveway, he threw the car into Park, cut the engine and turned in his seat to look at her.

  Damn. Even in the shadows, she was way too pretty for his peace of mind.

  "Thanks," she said, turning her head to look at him.

  "Want me to arrange to get your car back tonight?"

  "No," she said, opening the car door and stepping out. "I can walk into the bakery tomorrow and then pick up my car later."

  Mike got out of the car and walked up the driveway, just a step or two behind her. She'd left the front porch light on and a soft, golden glow streamed from the Tiffany style glass shade and dazzled the small space with slices of color. He noticed some kind of flower trailing from a series of hanging pots and a short glider swing that was dotted with comfy-looking cushions.

  Sort of made him curious as to what the inside of her house looked like. But it wasn't likely he'd be finding out. She might not want to think about what she'd said when the margaritas were doing her thinking for her, but he remembered it all.

  She wanted love. Family. Babies.

  And that was enough to convince him to keep his distance.

  Nora opened her front door and more light spilled into the darkness, like a warm, golden path laid out to welcome him. This could be serious trouble.

  "I'm going to make me some strong coffee," Nora said, looking over her shoulder at him. "Want a cup?"

  Say no, his brain screamed. One last stab at rational thinking echoed over and over through his brain, and for some unknown reason, Mike vetoed it. "Sure."

  He followed her inside and she shut the door behind him. Mike fought down the feeling of being a prisoner hearing a cell door slamming closed.

  Nora walked past him and headed down a short hallway. Mike stayed right behind her, and when she hit a switch, he blinked at the bright light ricocheting off the kitchen's sunshine-yellow walls. A white pedestal table surrounded by four captain's chairs sat in front of a bay window. Plants lined the windowsills, and the gleaming countertops boasted an assortment of top-of-the-line appliances.

  She moved around the room in her stocking feet as Mike watched her. Every movement was smooth, no motion was wasted. This was a woman who spent a lot of time in her kitchen. She seemed far more at home here than she had at that party.

  Something they had in common.

  When she had the coffee brewing, she turned around to face him. "I'm just going to go freshen up. Have a seat, I'll be back in a minute."

  As she left the room, Mike glanced at the table and chairs and beyond the shining window panes into the darkness outside. A cozy setup, he thought, and told himself again he should be going. After all, Emily was at home with a baby-sitter and he had an early day waiting for him tomorrow. But, for some reason, he wasn't ready to leave yet. He told himself he was only sticking around to make sure she was all right.

  But even he was having trouble believing that.

  "Sorry I made you miss the reception," Nora called from the other room.

  "No problem," he answered. "I'm not really much of a party guy."

  "Well, duh."

  He smiled to himself and took a seat at the table.

  A few minutes later, Nora breezed back into the kitchen. She'd changed into a pair of denim shorts and a short-sleeved, deep blue T-shirt that clung to her body with the same tempting allure that black dress had displayed. Her legs looked long and lean and slightly tanned. Her bare feet were decorated with a silver toe ring on her left foot and pale pink polish on her toenails.

  And Mike knew he was getting in deeper here every damn minute.

  The coffeepot hissed and steamed, sounding like an old woman shushing a crowd. Nora pulled two thick yellow mugs out of a cabinet and poured them each a cup of coffee.

  "You take it black, right?"

  He arched a brow. "Impressive."

  Nora smiled, sat down opposite him and pushed one hand through hair that now looked soft and untamed. "Hey, a good businesswoman remembers how her customers like their coffee." She took a sip, closed her eyes and said, "Let's see, you prefer the cinnamon buns and Emily loves my chocolate chip cookies and you come in every Wednesday afternoon when you pick her up from school."

  He didn't know whether to be further impressed or a little irritated that he'd become such a creature of habit that a storekeeper could set her watch by him. When had that happened?

  "So," Nora was saying, and Mike listened up. Already that night he'd learned that it was important to stay on his toes when she was talking. "You've seen me at my worst tonight, that's for sure."

  "Nora," he said, fingering the handle of his coffee cup, "why don't we just forget about everything that happened and—"

  "No way."

  "What?"

  "You heard me," Nora said, leaning back in her chair to give him a slow smile that damn near set fire to his insides. "You promised to help and I'm holding you to it."

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  He squirmed uneasily in his chair. Now that he knew just what she was looking for, he was a little warier than usual. There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to get involved with a virgin looking to explore sex. Down that road lay – well, all kinds of things he wasn't interested in.

  "Exactly what kind of 'help' are we talking about here?" Mike asked, determinedly keeping his gaze locked with hers. Despite the fact that her blue eyes looked soft and tempting, it was still safer than letting his gaze drift over that body she'd managed to hide until tonight.
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br />   Nora laughed, the sound rising up, filling the quiet room and settling over him like a promise.

  "Jeez, relax, Mike." She lifted her cup and took a long sip of the fragrant coffee. "You look like a man who's just been stood up against a wall, given a blindfold and asked for his last words."

  "No, I don't." He was better at hiding his emotions than that, wasn't he?

  "Right." Nora shook her head, and he refused to notice how many different colors of blond her hair really was. Besides, she was talking. Again.

  "It's not like I want you to do the deed personally."

  In fact, she sounded pretty damn appalled at the notion. "Well," he said, pretty sure he'd just been insulted. "That's good."

  Nora got up, walked to the cookie jar and filled a plate with a dozen or so of her fresh baked cookies. Carrying them back to the table, she set them down in front of him, took one for herself and sat down again.

  Mike glanced at the plate. Chocolate chip, peanut butter, cinnamon sugar. If he was looking for a wife … which he wasn't … he'd still avoid Nora. Being married to a woman who could bake like this could put five hundred pounds on a guy.

  "I mean, everyone in town knows that you're not interested in women."

  He froze, startled. "Excuse me?"

  She laughed again. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I just meant that you're not interested in commitment. I mean, ever since Vicky left, you've practically had Stay Away tattooed on your forehead."

  Everything inside him went cold and still. It took every ounce of his self-control not to crumble the cookie he held into a pile of crumbs. He wasn't going to get drawn into a discussion about his ex-wife. Not with anyone. And apparently, Nora could see that fact in his expression as well.

  "Oops." She covered a flash of embarrassment by taking another gulp of coffee. Then cradling the cup in her hands, she lifted her gaze to his and, wincing, said, "Sorry about that."

  "No problem."

  "Yeah, so I see. Look, I didn't mean to mention the V word."