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- Herausgeber: Vanessa Vale
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
The ultimate boxed set! All 6 USA Today Bestselling Bridgewater County series books in one!
Included:
Ride Me Dirty
Claim Me Hard
Take Me Fast
Hold Me Close
Make Me Yours
Kiss Me Crazy
The ultimate cowboy ménage experience! The steamy contemporary series that has it all, including two cowboys in every book!
Ride Me Dirty:
Catherine is forced to choose the life she really wants: the big-city lawyer or the small town cowgirl with two men who want to take her for a very dirty ride.
Her life’s in New York. The property she’s inherited is in Bridgewater, Montana. Going back to the town she visited every summer as a child stirs up long forgotten memories and a girlhood crush, on not one teen-turned-hot-cowboy, but two. Jack and Sam. Fortunately for her, in Bridgewater, one cowboy’s never enough.
*
Claim Me Hard
They’re going to claim her, even if they have to do it the hard way…one seductive kiss at a time.
Hiding from a crazy ex-boyfriend, Hannah Winters is determined to keep her head down and her heart locked safely away. Burned out from practicing medicine and dealing with a controlling jerk, her interest in romance is at absolute zero…until she sees them. One look at Cole and Declan and Hannah is going to have a very hard time keeping the ice around her heart from melting.
When her past catches up to her, it’ll be Cole and Declan who convince her to stop running, from her past, and from the desire burning white hot between them.
*
Take Me Fast
They claimed her once. After seven years in the military, they’re home. Now, they’ll claim her again.
Rory and Cooper haven’t forgotten Ivy. She’s the one for them, the one who became theirs one starry night before shipping off to boot camp. They didn’t expect so much time to pass before they saw her again. She’s left Bridgewater County. Changed. But they don’t care. They’ll do everything they can to make her theirs… and the baby she kept a secret.
*
Hold Me Close
Rachel wants one thing in life, a baby of her own. Now she has not one, but two cowboys, willing to help.
They may have ruined their chances in the past, but Matt and Ethan know Rachel’s the woman for them. When they discover her baby-making plans, they’ll offer to give her exactly what she wants. The old fashioned way. Because once they get their hands on her, they’ll hold her close and never let go.
*
Make Me Yours
A movie star heroine who wants to hide herself from the world and two obsessed alpha cowboys who find her. Claim her. Make her theirs.
Lacey has fame and fortune. That’s everything she’s ever wanted. Right? When she becomes tabloid fodder, she’s had enough. She needs a break. No more limelight. Escaping to a guest ranch in Bridgewater is the perfect place to hide. But when two hot cowboys do everything they can to make her theirs, are they seeking fifteen minutes of fame or because they want a forever with her?
*
Kiss Me Crazy
One night with two cowboys. It’ll never be enough.
A wild, snowy night stranded in a hotel room with two sexy men is perfect for Avery. She believes in flirting and flings, not relationships. Except those two cowboys aren’t strangers, they’re from her Montana hometown. When they see her at her sister’s wedding, they try to change her mind about the one “f” word she avoids: fiancés. Because they’ll do everything they can to make her theirs. Permanently.
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BRIDGEWATER COUNTY BOXED SET
BOOKS 1 - 6
VANESSA VALE
Ride Me Dirty: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
Claim Me Hard: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
Take Me Fast: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
Hold Me Close: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
Make Me Yours: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
Kiss Me Crazy: Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Vale
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design: Bridger Media
Cover graphic: Deposit Photos: Veneratio
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CONTENTS
Ride Me Dirty
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Claim Me Hard
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Take Me Fast
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Hold Me Close
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Make Me Yours
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Kiss Me Crazy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Note From Vanessa
Join the Wagon Train!
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Also By Vanessa Vale
About Vanessa Vale
RIDE ME DIRTY
PROLOGUE
CATHERINE
The hallway was dark, the pulsing beat of a new dance number thumped through the wall at my back as he held me there, trapped between the unforgiving plaster and his hot, lean frame. His lips were hard and dominant, demanding my surrender, even as I squirmed in his hold. He was the only man that I wanted to disembowel with my stiletto and fuck with equal need.
“Don’t move.” He pressed forward, his solid body pinning me to the wall, his rock hard cock a temptation I couldn’t ignore as I ground my hips against him, trying to get closer. God, yes. More.
“Does this bossy shit work with all the girls?”
“Your pussy's all hot and wet, doll. Don't deny it.”
His dark eyes met mine and the look I gave him should have withered his balls. Instead, it made him grin and I swear I felt his cock pulse. “Shut it down, doll. Every thought in your head. Work. Life. Everything but my dick pressed against you. Shut it the fuck down before I take you over my knee.” I narrowed my eyes and was equally appalled and aroused. “You wouldn't.”
The thin material of his suit pants was almost no barrier between us as I raised my legs and wrapped them around his hips like a woman in heat. I had no idea arguing would be so fucking hot. My skirt slid up and I rubbed my bare inner thighs against his hips, eager for more.
Lifting my arms over my head, he trapped my wrists in one hand, freeing the other to slide to my waist as he kissed my neck, licked it. Sucked on it. There was going to be a mark there come morning. I arched to give him better access as his fingers left a trail of heat on their way to cup my full breast beneath my blouse. He shoved the thin material up his calloused palms on my flesh. My hard nipple begged for his attention.
“Yeeees.”
Holy shit. Was that me? I didn’t recognize that voice. I’d never sounded that desperate to be touched, that needy. And work… what work? Nothing turned my mind off faster than a man gently biting my nipple. And not just any man. Sam Kane. God, he'd been a childhood crush, the star of my schoolgirl fantasies, but that had been fifteen years ago.
He'd been a boy then. Now, now he was all man and I was climbing him like a tree. We'd spent the past hour arguing and he instinctively knew how to push every one of my buttons. Instead of kneeing him in the balls, I was in the hallway of a public place letting him touch and taste and lick me.
“That's it. The only thing you should be thinking about is this.” His lips claimed mine as his free hand slid lower, down my abdomen. His blunt fingertips slipped over my skirt to my thigh, then up, higher, and stroked along the lace of my panties.
His hand tightened around my wrists, his tongue plundered my mouth and two fingers nudged my panties to the side and slid into me. I was so damn hot for him I nearly came from that one rough thrust.
I couldn’t stop the throaty moan that escaped me as he pulled his fingers free and fucked me with them again. He was opinionated, bossy and annoying as fuck. He even stole my cell to keep me from working. So why was I panting his name as he did what he wanted?
Grinding on his hand, I tried to get him to stroke my clit, to take me the rest of the way, but he broke off our kiss and bit my bottom lip lightly, just enough to let me know he was in charge. “Not yet, Katie. Not until I give you permission.”
Permission? How dare he! I dripped all over his fingers.
My pussy clenched and he pulled back, thrusting twice more, ever so careful to keep his hand away from my clit. I moaned in frustration and he nibbled at my jaw. “That’s the sound I want to hear from you.” He fingered my clit once, with a swift, light touch that just drove me higher. I whimpered and he returned to take my lips, speaking against them as his fingers moved in and out of my wet pussy gently now, so damn slowly I wanted to cry.
He kissed me, hard, then unwrapped my legs from his waist, then moved lower. Letting go of my wrists he knelt in front of me and lifted my skirt to my waist. My lace panties he simply shoved to the side as he held me in place with one hand on my abdomen. The other he used to spread me open for his mouth.
“Oh shit,” I murmured, staring at his dark head between my thighs, feeling his hot breath fan over my pussy.
I should tell him to stop. We were in the damn hallway of a bar. True, a back hallway, but anyone could walk in at any moment. I should behave like a proper professional and tell him no, tell him to wait until we were somewhere more private, more—
He sucked my clit into his mouth and flicked the nub with his tongue and I tangled my fingers in his hair. Head back, I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes until I heard a soft chuckle coming from my right.
Shocked, I turned to find the hot cowboy I’d met on the plane earlier watching us with an interested glow in his eyes. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. How long had he been watching? Too shocked to move, instead I whimpered as my clit was released, then sucked back into Sam's mouth. Did he know we weren't alone? If he did, he was just too damn skilled to even think about being ashamed. Pushing at his head, I wanted him to move away, then with one little flick of his tongue, I tugged on his hair, holding him closer. I was on the brink, teetering on the edge of my orgasm.
The cowboy smiled and closed the distance. The hallway felt crowded. No, I felt crowded with two men paying very close attention to me. One guy had his head between my legs and making me come with just his tongue, the other blocking out the world with his broad shoulders. He lifted his hand to my cheek, then stroked his thumb over my bottom lip. “I see you’ve met my cousin.”
Cousin? He grinned, then he kissed me, hot, wet and deep as Sam worked my wet pussy with his tongue, pushing me right over and into an earth-shattering orgasm.
As Sam got me off, his cousin, Jack, stifled my screams with a kiss. I was in deep, deep trouble here.
1
CATHERINE
Ten Hours Earlier…
“This is the captain speaking. We're in line for takeoff, but as you can see out the window, the weather isn't playing nice and the tower has put a ground stop on all flights. Not sure exactly how long this thunderstorm will hold us up. Looks like we’ll be here for at least half an hour, folks. We'll keep you posted.”
Great. Peeking out the airplane's small window, I could see the roiling charcoal gray clouds that prevented us from leaving Denver. I'd dashed from one gate to the far distant commuter area to reach my connecting flight in time, only to be waylaid like this on the tarmac. I glanced at my watch, then sighed. I didn't have time for this. Hell, I didn't have time to go to Montana, but I was going just the same.
Leaning back into the uncomfortable headrest, I shut my eyes and tried to breathe away my frustrations. I was up half the night finishing the depositions that had to be filed this morning, then spent another two hours closing out as many emails as possible. By the time I'd finished that, I still had to pack. I had nothing, nothing, that was appropriate for the Wild West besides a pair of jeans and running shoes, so after an hour of fretting, I just threw a little bit of everything into a bag.
I'd slept a measly two hours when the alarm went off at four-thirty, only to find the bridge from Manhattan to Queens was having overnight repairs and the traffic was backed up. Then airport security was long and I'd suffered the up close and personal pat down because of the titanium pins in my leg. When I had finally reached the gate, my boss had called to complain about my lack of face-time with my current client list. I wanted to make partner badly enough that I actually considered abandoning my suitcase and just heading into the office, but when my flight was called to board, I knew I had to get at least one mess in my life cleaned up. And now I was stuck in a thunderstorm.
As I tried to rub away the sandpaper feel behind my lids, I attempted the deep breathing techniques I’d learned in yoga class. The classes were supposed to be calming, but they never worked. I was never calm. And right now, the canned air inside this tiny airplane was getting hotter and hotter, sinking into my lungs, suffocating me. I was stuck and there was nothing I could do about it. Shit. I hated things that were beyond my control. I wasn't claustrophobic, but I felt trapped just the same. A huge clap of thunder shook the plane, just before rain pummeled the metal like a thousand tiny hammers. Was God trying to tell me something?
Breathe.
Breathe in slowly through the nose, hold it, hold it, let it out through the mouth. Breathe in…sandalwood and leather with just a hint of warmth I was sure had to be completely unique to him. I sat next to Mr. Cowboy Hottie and he smelled too good to focus on anything else—especially with my eyes closed. The scent wasn't cologne, soap maybe, and had me completely distracted. How could anyone concentrate on yoga breathing when Tall, Dark and Handsome and I were bumping shoulders?
I'd almost swallowed my tongue when he'd walked down the narrow aisle, put his cowboy hat in the overhead and took the seat beside me, all but folding his large size into the small space. He'd offered a quick smile and a polite hello and opened his book. I'd been texting on my phone at the time, but my thumbs had frozen in place as I ogled him. Blatantly. I figured I owed it to all womankind to look my fill as my heart started once again.
He had fair hair that was a little long and curled at the ends. Combed, but untamed. His eyes were equally dark and piercing, but the way his full lips quirked up at the corners indicated he wasn't as intense as he seemed. Tanned skin proved to me he didn't work in an office. As did his big hands with short, well kept nails and a fascinating play of muscle that shifted just beneath the surface. Strong hands that made a woman beg to be touched. Most importantly, no wedding ring either.
I was a total perv thinking about my seat mate like this, but holy shit. He was pumping out the pheromones or something because suddenly all I could think about was climbing on his lap and taking him for a ride. My brain had stalled and my ovaries had taken over.
There weren't any cowboys in New York. And I had to admit, there was nothing like a man whose size and corded muscles were brought about by hard work, fresh air and sunshine instead of daily trips to the gym. No man could wear a snap button shirt, a pair of jeans and worn boots like a cowboy. And this man? He was all cowboy. Holy hell, I'd always thought the urban businessman was hot, but they were pale weaklings in comparison. They might be able to make a billion-dollar deal over lunch, but I'd turn a blind eye if they tried to get me in bed. But Mr. Hottie? He could ride and wrangle me into submission any day.
Since I wasn't going to tell him that, I glanced at my watch again. Three minutes had passed since the captain's announcement. I should use this dead time to my advantage. Bending forward, I tried to reach my bag, but the seats were too close together. I had to lean sideways to do so only to find the side of my head bumped into Mr. Hottie's rock-hard thigh. Rock hard and warm thigh.
Abruptly, I sat up and flicked a gaze his way. “Sorry!” I blushed furiously and bit my lip.
Oh shit, he had a dimple. He smiled, showing off that perfect indentation in his right cheek and I just stared at it, my mouth open. He had a five o'clock shadow, and I wondered if his dark whiskers would be soft or scratchy. Would he run them across his lover’s skin? Use that slight abrasion to tease the inside of my thighs before tasting me with his—
“No problem. Anytime,” he murmured, his voice deep.
Was he insinuating I could put my head in his lap anytime? Did that mean he wanted me to…
My eyes dropped to his lap and I quickly observed those well-worn jeans molded him in all the right places.
Mortified I was ogling his very large package, I looked away, not before he winked and grinned.
Trying to keep on my side of the arm rest, I used my foot to hook my bag and pull it forward—bending in ways that I was thankful for hours of yoga to achieve—to finally get my hand on my laptop and cell phone and setting them on the tray table. Taking my phone off airplane mode, it rang right away.
Wanting to silence the ring, I answered it.
“Don't think you can sneak off and sell your uncle's property without me knowing.”
Just hearing Chad's voice grated on my already frazzled nerves. Since I'd blocked his cell number, he was probably calling from his office. Why couldn't he leave me alone?
“I don’t need to sneak. I’m selling my uncle’s house. Now you know.” I kept my voice low so I didn't bother anyone else.
“And keeping the profits for yourself? Not going to happen, sweetheart.”
“I'm not your sweetheart, Chad. I doubt I ever was,” I grumbled. When I'd discovered him in bed with his paralegal, I had to assume she was his sweetheart instead.
“You are my wife and that entitles me to half of that inheritance.”
I glanced out at the rain dripping down the window. My emotions were the same as the sky, dark and threatening to unleash. “You've been in bankruptcy law too long. We're not married anymore. Which means you’re not entitled to anything.”
“Says the woman who, four years in, still hasn’t made partner.”
Wow, that was a low blow. Chad had been made a junior partner in his firm after eighteen months, and never let me forget it. I glanced at Mr. Hottie and discovered he was looking at me, watching me with an intensity that made me squirm in my seat. Was that concern on his face? God, I didn't need him to hear me fighting with my asshole ex-husband.
“Chad, I'm sitting on a plane and can’t talk. We have nothing else to say to each other. Stop calling me.”
I hung up and just stared at my cell. We'd been divorced for almost two years and he was still trying to fuck with me. It had been a stupid marriage and the fallout from that hasty mistake still lingered.
Yoga breathing wasn't going to calm me down from this one so I had to shift my thoughts. Work. Work would make me focus on something besides my lying, cheating, backstabbing asshole of an ex.
I pulled up the brief I was writing and got to work while Mr. Hottie read his book. After a few minutes, an instant messaging box appeared in the lower corner of the screen.
Elaine: Saw your name pop up. You're there already?
Me: Stuck on grounded connecting flight in Denver. Thunderstorm.
Elaine: That sucks.
There was a minute delay, then she wrote again.
Elaine: Remember your primary mission! Find a hot cowboy and engage in monkey sex!
My eyes widened at the message in the corner of my laptop's screen.
Flicking my gaze toward Mr. Hottie, it didn’t appear that he had noticed my friend's racy note. The type was small and while the seats were close together, I had to hope he was extremely nearsighted. And focused on his book.
Me: Waste of time. I have too much work to do.
Elaine: Famous last words of a woman who desperately needs an orgasm. Chad was an asshole with a pencil dick. You need to find a man to rock your world.
Elaine had no filter and that's what I loved about her. She didn't mince words. What she said about my ex's dick was probably true. Sadly, I'd only been with him so I didn't have tons of dicks for comparison but he certainly didn't know how to use it. As for having my world rocked, well, I doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. I was too busy. Work, work out, more work. Occasionally, I slept. As Chad so kindly pointed out, I hadn’t made partner. Yet. If I wanted to be one, I had to clock the hours.
Me: Sex won't get me that partnership.
Elaine: You've got warped priorities, woman, if you think you can't have both. You think Mr. Farber doesn't get laid?
I wasn't sure if I should laugh or throw up in my mouth. My boss was in his sixties and far from attractive. And a misogynistic hard ass.
Me: Funny.
Elaine: A one-night stand. I'm not saying marry the man, just fuck him. Then find another and fuck him, too.
I sighed, trying to figure out how I was going to find a guy to fuck. I wasn't exactly a model with my short stature and curvy body. And one-night stands weren’t exactly my style. How did one go about doing that? Was I supposed to just walk up to a guy at a bar and tell him I wanted to have sex? Drink and act silly until the man made a move, go home with him and sneak out as soon as we were finished? The whole thing made me uncomfortable. The thought of turning from an uptight, workaholic divorcee who’d only ever slept with one man into a sultry seductress in the wilds of Montana just didn’t seem feasible.
Me: Fine. The first man I see when I get off this plane, I'll just ask to fuck me. That should work, right?
I could have sworn I heard Mr. Hottie grumble, but when I glanced at him, he was still reading.
Elaine: It's worked for me. Seriously though, find a hot Montana cowboy and go for it.
Mr. Hottie still hadn't moved and I inwardly sighed. This conversation was not something he needed to see.
My phone chimed.
Me: Gotta go. Mr. Farber is texting.
Elaine: He can text? LOL.
I rolled my eyes and shut down the messaging window. Grabbing my phone, I read my boss's text.
Farber: Hearing date for the Marsden case changed to Tuesday. In your absence, Roberts will take over.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my hand tightened around the phone case until my knuckles were white.
I stared at the words and wanted to throw the phone across the plane. Eric Roberts was vying for the same partner spot I was and he was a total asshole. Besides having a law degree, he had a Masters in brown-nosing and a PhD in poaching cases. I'd been gone half a day and he was already taking my biggest case. I could only imagine what he'd accomplish in the week I'd be gone.
Normally, I would have smiled politely and bitten my tongue. But not today. I muttered to myself as I answered Farber’s text with a polite recommendation that he send Martinez instead. Martinez, at the very least, thought with something other than his penis. Roberts had fucked his way through the entire paralegal department and had now moved on to the receptionist in the orthopedic office on the fourth floor. “Roberts. You asshole. Think you’re going to ruin me.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?”
I turned my head and looked up at Mr. Hottie.
“I'm sorry?” I asked, confused. My brain was still processing how my career was going into the toilet at an alarming pace.
“I just wondered if you always talk to yourself this much.”
Reality crashing back in on me, I blushed hotly, then looked away, seeing the flight attendant work his way down the aisle.
“Oh, um. Only when stressed.” I laughed drily. “That means yes. I talk to myself all the time.”
A little V formed in his brow, then glanced at my computer. “Stressful job?”
The flight attendant came to our aisle. “Since we're stuck here, drinks are on us, folks. Beer, wine, liquor?”
“Liquor,” Mr. Hottie and I said it at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled.
“Name your poison then,” the flight attendant replied, pencil and paper ready, looking to me.
“Vodka tonic,” I said. “Make it a double.”
“Same,” Mr. Hottie replied.
When the flight attendant moved down the line, Mr. Hottie turned back to me. “You seem to need that drink.”
“Or ten,” I muttered.
“That bad?” he asked.
“Drowning my problems in alcohol is the only thing I can do at this point. Since I've been on this plane I've had a phone call from my ex, an IM from a coworker and a text from my boss. On top of that, I won't make my appointment in Montana on time.” I waved my hand toward the plane's window and the water streaking down it. “I can't go back to New York and, after months of hard work, they’re giving my case to an ass—” I bit my lip. “An associate because I'm stuck here.”
Mr. Hottie's dark gaze was focused on me. Like a laser. It was as if he couldn't hear the storm brewing outside or the screaming baby two rows back or the conversation of the couple in front of us. He was listening solely to me, and the attention made me hot all over. I had to fist my hand at my side to keep myself from finding out just how soft his hair would feel sliding through my fingers.
“Being stuck isn't so bad,” he told me.
I arched a brow, my gaze flying to his lips as he spoke. Lingering because I couldn’t seem to remember that it was impolite to stare. “Oh?”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Being stuck with a beautiful woman? Every man's dream. Aren't I lucky?”
2
CATHERINE
I licked my lips and forced myself to face forward, like a reasonable, logical woman. How many times was this man going to make me blush?
“I'm Jack, by the way.”
I licked my lips again, the slight dampness left by my tongue teasing me with possibilities as I answered. Maybe this was how it worked, picking up a man. Maybe Elaine was right. Maybe I could do this. “Catherine.”
Jack shifted his legs so they stretched out into the aisle a bit. “What is it you do that has you so stressed?”
I considered lying for a split second, but my instincts rebelled at the thought. If he couldn’t handle a woman with a brain, I wasn’t interested anyway. “I'm an attorney.”
“My cousin's a lawyer, too. I usually crack jokes about lawyers, but I don't think they pertain to you.”
I laughed and nodded my head. “Yeah, I've pretty much heard them all.” I tugged at one of my wayward curls. “And I'm blond, too, so I'm pretty much doomed in the bad joke department.”
“So what's the big issue that has you so wound up?”
He placed his hands on top of the book in his lap, interlaced his fingers, clearly settling in to the wait. I just looked at him for a minute, trying to figure out why he cared.
Perhaps he sensed my thoughts, because he said, “Look, talking to you is much more enjoyable than my book. Besides, we've got nothing else to do. You might as well tell me.” When I still paused, he said, “What happens on the plane, stays on the plane.”
“I thought that was only for Vegas,” I countered, then grinned. “Fine.” I turned so my back was against the bulkhead of the plane and I faced him.
“My biggest issue is that I'm up for partner and an ambitious co-worker took over my biggest case. I've been gone—” I glanced at my watch and did the math on the time change. “—six hours and he’s poaching my clients.”
“Partner. That's impressive, especially for someone so young.”
I frowned and looked at him carefully. “Thanks. I’m not that young and I don’t think you’re old enough to claim old age just yet.”
“I don't dare guess a woman's age. My mother taught me better manners than that, but I'm thirty-two.”
“Then I'll just say you've got a few years on me.” Five to be exact, but he didn't need to know that.
“Like I said, impressive.”
I looked down at my short nails. “Making partner has been a goal for ten years. I’ve worked my tail off and the thought of the jerk in my office stealing the partnership out from under my nose makes me want to strangle things.”
“You always wanted to be a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s that? Someone in your family put away for a crime they didn't commit?” The corner of his mouth tipped up and his dimple appeared. I stared. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to kiss him there, find out what his skin tasted like.
Holy shit. Elaine was right. I needed to have sex. The long dry spell since my divorce was making me lose my mind. “Um… no. My father's a lawyer. My mother's a lawyer.”
“Following in their footsteps then.”
I thought of my parents. Not warm and fuzzy, not loving in general. But, they'd put me through college and law school so I shouldn't complain. “I guess. I never really thought about it. It was always just what I was going to do.” I'd said enough about me. Time to turn the tables. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I'm a rancher.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Ever been to Montana before?”
“When I was young. My uncle lived there.”
He gave a slight nod. “I run a horse ranch.”
“I pegged you for a cowboy.”
“I pegged you for a city girl.”
I glanced at my laptop and my phone. Saw my crisp white blouse and slim jeans. “Yeah, you can take the girl out of the office, but you can't take the office out of the girl. Right?”
He looked at me for a minute. “I don't know about that. Maybe you just need to try.”
I bristled at his words, then sighed. “Believe me, it’s not that easy. I've been trying my whole life.” I’d done everything the books said to do to relax. Beach vacations. Yoga. White noise machines and a monthly massage appointment. All they got me was stacks of unanswered emails, a sore shoulder from too much downward dog, nightmares about buzzing insect attacks and complete mortification as a stranger rubbed lotion into my less than perfect body while pretending not to notice how utterly far from perfect it truly was.
The flight attendant brought our drinks on a tray, handed me mine, then Jack his.
I took a swig of the frosty drink and felt the alcohol sit on my tongue, then slide coolly down my throat.
“Headed to Montana to visit your uncle?” he asked, adept enough to know he needed to change topics.
“My uncle died a few months ago.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” he murmured.
I offered a small shrug. “I was twelve the last time I saw him. My parents had some kind of falling out and we never went back.”
“Falling out?”
I took another sip of my drink. “They never told me. I asked, believe me, but they wouldn't say. Surprisingly, he left his house to me and I'm going up there to clean it out and sell.”
“It's in Bozeman then?” If this plane ever took off, we'd land there.
“No, Bridgewater. A small town about two hours away.” Was it my imagination, or did his eyes narrow at the mention of the town? I was about to ask, but the buzzing of the airplane’s intercom system drew my attention.
“Okay, folks.” The captain’s voice boomed through the overhead speaker, preventing Jack from saying more. “While you can see it's still raining, the storm's headed east and the runway's open. We're fifth in line for takeoff.”
The flight attendant came around then to collect the cups. Not wanting to waste the drink, I downed the rest in two gulps before handing it over. I had no choice but to put my laptop away since the tray table had to go up. We started to move then, slowly up the line as one plane took off after another. Quicker than I expected, we were in the air and the effects of the alcohol were kicking in. Now I was buzzing on both his scent and the vodka, and all I could think about was finding out more about this sexy cowboy.
“I never thought to ask, but are you heading home to your ranch in Montana or is it in Colorado?”
“Montana,” Jack replied. “Born and raised. I was in Denver for business. My turn.”
When I frowned in confusion, he said, “My turn to ask a question.”
“Okay. Shoot.” The alcohol was filling me with a warm fuzzy feeling and I knew I wouldn’t normally open up like this. But what the hell? I’d never see him again anyway.
“I don't see a ring. You mentioned an ex?”
“Divorced. You?”
“Never married.”
“Girlfriend?” I was dying to know and the liquor was loosening my tongue.
“No. Boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “Not enough time. My friend says—” I cut off my sentence, realizing I was sharing too much. It didn't matter that I would never see this man again once the plane landed in Bozeman. It didn't matter how easy he was to talk to. There were some things a girl just didn't share. Like the fact that I needed wild and crazy monkey sex up against a wall and at least five orgasms.
“Your friend says…?”
I looked at his gorgeous face, his very broad shoulders, the entire package. I could just tell him what Elaine said. I could proposition him, tell him I wanted to have monkey sex with him. He was single, had said I was beautiful. While I doubted we could be in the Mile High Club—the bathroom on this plane was barely big enough for one, let alone two people—we could easily find a hotel near the airport when we landed. I bet he was good, too. Really good. Those hands, the cock that was clearly outlined in his jeans. He could easily rock my world. The words were right there on the tip of my tongue. Are you interested in a one-night stand?
Elaine so would have done it. But I chickened out. Hell, I didn't want to be rejected. Chad had found me lacking. If Jack did, it would be crushing.
“Nothing.” How could I get out of this conversation? Bathroom. Every woman needed to powder her nose, even at 35,000 feet. “Um, if you don't mind, could you let me out?” I pointed toward the back of the plane.
Jack unbuckled his seat belt and stood, moving out of the way in the narrow aisle so I could walk to the back of the plane. When I shut the lavatory door behind me, I laughed out loud. How anyone had sex in a space this small was beyond me. It was so tiny and definitely unsanitary. I took a second to look at myself in the mirror, to see what Jack saw. My blond hair was wavy and hit my shoulders, my bangs long and combed off to the side. It was somewhat untamable in the east coast humidity, which wasn't all that great for the corporate look. I'd resigned myself to that a while ago, but I was pleased that the color didn't come from a bottle. I tucked it behind my ears and wiped my fingers beneath my eyes, ensuring my mascara hadn't moved downward.
“You're talking to a hot guy. He's interested in you, regardless of your quirks and insanity. He's not going anywhere so get out there and talk to the man.” I stared at myself, then frowned. “Yeah, right. As if he'd be interested in me.”
Working my way back down the aisle, I discovered Jack asleep. He had his head tilted back, mouth open slightly. God, what would those full lips feel like on mine? I couldn't keep standing in the aisle and stare, but I didn't want to wake him because he looked completely out. The only way to get to my seat was over him. Putting one hand on the seat back in front of me, I lifted my leg and winced as I stepped over his. God, he was big. I put my foot down on the floor, leaning my weight on it to bring the other one over, but my legs were too short. I'd totally miscalculated and I was stuck straddling his thighs. Oh shit.
Jack startled and shifted his legs, which lifted my toes off the floor. I lost my balance and fell forward, my knee landing on the empty seat next to him, and my bottom landing firmly on his lap. This, along with my little squeak, had his eyes popping open. Instinctively, his hands went to my waist. Being as small as I was, his thumbs brushed the bottom curve of my breasts which were pressed to his chest.
My eyes widened in alarm as I felt the hard length of him at the juncture of my thighs. If the thin barrier of our clothes weren't in the way, that hard length would be sliding through my folds right about now. Naked, I could ride him like this, right here on his lap, my breasts pressed to his chest, his mouth just out of reach. If I just lifted my chin—
Our eyes met, held. I was frozen in his lap, like a frightened rabbit. My brain completely shut down and I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. I had no witty comment to smooth over the situation. No. Not me. First in my class on the trial advocacy team, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nope. All I could think about was getting a complete stranger naked. Monkey sex.
His gaze narrowed and was filled with heat and intensity. His pale eyes were a stormy gray. Like the clouds beneath us. I shuddered.
I finally got my voice back. “Oh um, shit.” I leaned toward my seat and tried to lift my other leg over, but his hands held me in place. “Sorry, I… um… didn't want to wake you.” I knew my face was fifteen shades of red, but there was nothing I could do about it.
He grinned then, easily lifting me so that I could swing my leg over and turn to sit back in my seat.
“Anytime, Catherine, anytime.”
I could still feel the squeeze of his hands on my sides, the hot—and very hard—press of him on the backs of my thighs. Mortified, I felt my cheeks burning and I looked everywhere but at him. With fumbling fingers, I put my seat belt on. God, how does someone survive such embarrassment? I had to do something, anything, so I didn't have to talk with him anymore. Elaine had wanted me to throw myself at a man. Well, I’d done it. God, not that I wanted the plane to crash or anything, but I could die of embarrassment right now. Nothing had changed. I sucked at flirting. Always had. Give me a rule book or a procedure manual and I was a genius. But this? Flirting and sex? Yeah. Not so much.
“I… um… I better get back to work.” While the words were for Jack, I spoke to the seat back in front of me.
In my periphery, I could see he lifted his chin once in acknowledgement, pressed the button on his chair to go back the measly two inches and closed his eyes once again. I could look at him unaware. He wasn't flustered like I was. He wasn't embarrassed or mortified. It had been nothing to him. I was nothing but an amusement on a delayed flight.
To me, that was the closest I'd probably get to riding a cowboy in this lifetime.
When he shifted in his seat, I turned away, afraid he would open those intense blue eyes and see me staring. After the falling in his lap incident, I couldn't be caught ogling.
Hooking my foot to pull my bag out once again, I spent thirty minutes typing up the remainder of the brief. With Jack sleeping, I was able to forget my blunder and focus, glad that I couldn't get any internet or cell service on the plane. My work insanity was at a minimum, but my to-do list simmered in the back of my mind. I might be in radio silence, but that didn't mean my world wasn't falling down around me. I could only imagine what I'd be in for when I got to Bridgewater.
3
JACK
“How was your trip?” Sam asked, tossing his pen onto his desk.
I never could understand how a man could work at a desk all day. But that was my cousin, and it made him happy. I thought of Catherine from the plane and realized she and Sam probably had a lot in common.
“Uneventful.” I hung my hat on the coat rack by the door, then settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk. I'd gone to Denver to sell one of the quarter horses. While it hadn't been necessary to meet the buyer in person, sometimes it took a face-to-face to close the deal. The arrangements for transfer from my ranch to the one in Colorado could be handled by phone. “The return flight, though, was anything but.”
Sam leaned back in his chair and put his boots up on the antique desk. You can take the boy off the ranch, but can’t take the ranch out of the boy. “Did the plane hit another bird?”
“What?” I realized he was referring to a flight a few years ago when, on takeoff, a bird had hit the windshield of the plane and the pilots had aborted the flight. Not fun. I could laugh about it now, but I'd been stuck at a hotel by the Denver airport overnight because of a damn bird. “Shit, no. Thunderstorm this time, long delay, but that's not it. I met someone.”
Sam's fair brows drew together and I could practically feel the judgment oozing from his skin. “Oh, yeah? Who's going to be in your bed this time?”
“Don’t give me your bullshit, Sam, about having no-strings sex. She’s just in town for a few days and looking for a good time. She’s from New York. I sat beside her on the plane. Talked with her for awhile. Practically the whole time we were delayed a friend of hers was messaging her, telling her to find a hot cowboy and have some fun.”
Was that a grin teasing at the edges of Sam’s mouth? “I don’t know how you find them, Jack.”
“She needs me. Her pussy needs me. I can’t just walk away.” I sat down in the chair opposite my cousin in his big, fancy lawyer’s office and couldn’t keep the happy grin off my face. “One, she’s sexy as hell. Curvy, blond, and strung up so tight she’ll probably pass out the first time I make her come.”
“I don’t need to know.” Sam was shaking his head now, but there was laughter in his eyes. Which was good to see. He hadn’t quite forgiven me for costing us the woman he wanted us to marry all those years ago, before he left town. Sweet Samantha Connor. She’d been eighteen at the time and everything Sam wanted. What he wanted, I hated: innocent, sweet, dependent. Needy. I’d felt myself suffocating the closer Sam got to proposing. Hell, I'd only been fucking eighteen myself. I’d refused to marry her, she’d cried a river and married the MacPhersons six months later. Sam left town two weeks after the wedding and stayed gone for more than a decade.
“Hell, cousin. If anyone needs to get laid, it's her.”
I grinned, thinking of her computer and cell and instant messaging and her full inbox and… hell, the seventeen other things she probably had going through that pretty head of hers. It was amusing to see her so intense and serious. On the plane, I'd had a semi since I first sat down and had to pull out my book to try and cover it. When she'd gotten up to use the lavatory, I'd enjoyed the view of her curvy ass as she walked down the aisle, which had only made me hard as a rock. I'd had to sit there, eyes closed and think about mucking out stalls and root canals to will it away. But when she'd surprised the shit out of me and tried to climb over my lap, I instantly imagined her riding my cock up and down, shifting her hips to get herself off as she fucked me. There was no question she'd felt how hard I was for her as I savored her warm curves beneath my hands, the soft feel of the underside of her breasts, her thighs pressing into mine the instant before she leapt off.
My cock stirred at the memory alone. Her body… lush and round. Perfect.
Now Sam’s brows winged up. “Haven't seen that look on your face in awhile. That good, huh?”
I nodded and grinned, envisioning Catherine's blouse as it strained from her full breasts, her blond curls, the soft weight of her thighs on mine, her surprise at being caught straddling me. “Hell, yeah. That good.”
Sam leaned forward and picked up a softball he had on his desk and started tossing it up in the air. We were on a summer league through the recreation center, and Sam liked to keep his hands busy. “If she's that good, then she's better than a quick fuck.”
I shook my head. “I'd be game for more, but she just wants sex. Lots of sex. Needs it, in fact.”
Sam caught the ball and looked at me, wide eyed. “How the hell did you learn that from the plane? And don’t tell me she actually said that to you.”
She’d been about to, that's for damn sure, but she’d changed her mind. I’d watched the battle rage behind her expressive blue eyes, and nearly groaned with disappointment when I saw the cool, logical mask she wore drop down to hide her desire. “I peeked at her instant messaging conversation with a girlfriend. She was practically ordered to have a fling. She’s divorced and looking for a good time.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why would she need a fling? What’s wrong with her? If she’s as hot as you claim, she should have men lined up wherever she’s from.”
“New York. And nothing’s wrong with her.” She was one perfect little package with curves I itched to hold again. “She's just got a type-A personality focused solely on the corner office. Uptight. Conservative. A lawyer, just like you.”
“Ah, one of those.” Sam had walked away from a big-time partnership in San Francisco, very similar to the one Catherine so desperately wanted, for the slower paced life in Montana. No more eighty-hour work weeks for him with his private practice.
“She's wound up tight. Real tight.” I steepled my fingers. “From the IM conversation, I'd say she hasn't gotten any in awhile. If we got our hands on her, she'd probably go off like a rocket.”
“We?”
“Yes, we,” I countered. “She's not Samantha and I'm not eighteen anymore. I know what I want now.”
Sam stiffened. We didn't talk about what happened all those years ago. It was a sore subject. Fuck, it was a huge fucking elephant in the room and it never went away.
“She wasn't the one for us,” I added, referring to Samantha. “We weren't the men for her. She's married to the MacPhersons. Happy.”
The town of Bridgewater, Montana was founded on the principals of plural marriage. Two or more men for one woman. Back in the 1880's, when our great-great-great grandfather came to the United States from England, he—along with a few fellow soldiers—established Bridgewater as a safe refuge. They believed in the custom that two men should protect and love a wife. Together.
I didn't know the full story, but they'd served in the small, now extinct country of Mohamir that followed this custom; men who believed in sharing a woman. Protecting her, cherishing her and loving her in a way that kept her from ever being alone was their sole purpose. If one husband died, she had another to take care of her and any children. While it seemed to many outsiders to be chauvinistic, the lifestyle was designed with the woman in mind, with the woman the center of every family. Those original tenets set by our ancestors still held today. While not everyone in Bridgewater married this way, it was commonplace and understood. Sam and I, we'd grown up with it—we each had one mother and two dads—and wanted that kind of marriage for ourselves.
Sam dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and leaned on his desk. “Jack—”
“We're grown men. Let's stop acting like pussies about this. It's not about Samantha Connor any more. We were too young. Hell, I was eighteen and shaved once a week.”
I ran my hand over my jaw, which was covered in a heavy five o'clock shadow. “What did I know about having a wife?”
“You're ready for one now?” he eyed me closely.
“I know you left because of the fallout with Samantha and I know why you finally came back—to find The One. It's time we found our bride.”
He could have found a woman in San Francisco and settled down, married her. But he hadn't. He wanted a Bridgewater marriage. He just hadn't been ready before. Now, he was ready. We just hadn't found the right woman.
“And you think this woman on the plane is her?”
“Fuck, yeah. As soon as she straddled my lap on the plane, I knew then she was going to be in my bed. More.”
His eyes widened. “Do I want to know why she was straddling your lap on a fucking commuter plane?”
I couldn't help but grin, reliving the sight of Catherine's stunned—yet heated—look. I'd had my hands on her, saw the flare of attraction and desire in her eyes. I wanted her again, on my lap was just fine, but without any clothes between us. I wanted to be able to see what color her nipples were, feel the weight of her breasts in my palms, watch them bounce as she took me for a ride, my cock buried deep in her sweet pussy. Shit.
I would have her. I knew it the moment I sat down beside her and picked up her clean citrus scent. When her pale eyes met mine, I saw the desire there. I'd felt sucker punched. Lightning strike. Name the cliché. I hadn't wanted a girl this badly since I was a scrawny twelve-year-old. And that hadn’t worked out so well. But Catherine was a full-grown woman with perfect breasts and rounded hips. She was a little thing, but she was all woman. Soft. Curved. Aroused. Oh, hell yeah. I’d seen that look in a woman’s eyes before. She’d been just as hot for me as I’d been for her. But she’d panicked and shut me down.
I didn’t know her last name. Hell, I didn’t know much. But Bridgewater County was a tight community and she was coming here. I was sure I could find her.
I adjusted my cock. Again. Having a semi for the past four hours made it uncomfortable to sit, but thinking about how she could've gotten herself off just riding my thighs on the plane wasn't helping.
“That makes it even worse. We fuck her, she gets the one night stand that she wants, then goes back to New York,” Sam countered. “The conversation with her friend only proves that she's not going to stay.”
“Shit, man. You need to chill,” I told him, shaking my head. I told him a thousand times to loosen up and the women would flock to him. Seemed he was even more uptight than the woman on the plane. I kept hoping one would come along and inspire him to unleash the fighter I knew lurked within. No such luck yet.
He gave me the finger. “You want me to fuck a woman I barely know and walk away? That's not how the Bridgewater way works, jackass. I want a woman between us that we're going to keep. Not fuck and wave farewell.”
“Start by helping me find her. Talk to her. I'll bet you fifty bucks you’ll take one look and be hard as a fucking rock.”
He waved his hand toward the door. “I’ll think about it. Now, get the fuck out of my office.”
“There's only one problem.” I didn't get up as he wanted.
Sam gave me an impatient look, waiting.
“Based on that IM alone, she's on the prowl. That means she might choose to fuck some random asshole just to get her jollies. If she wants hot monkey sex—” I held up my hand at Sam’s raised brow. “—Her friend's words, not mine, we just need to ensure we're the men—the only men—to give it to her.”
Sam sighed, ran a hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t just two years older, he was bigger than me. Taller and broader, he’d played football in high school and college. He'd wanted off the ranch all his life and I was just thankful he'd returned to Bridgewater to settle. Besides the whole Samantha fiasco, we'd been burned by women who either wanted us for our money—the ranch wasn't small and Sam did extremely well as a lawyer—or, for one night, interested in being in the center of a Kane cousin sandwich.
But I had a feeling about Catherine, a feeling she would love being taken by two men, love being touched and fucked and kissed by both of us. But convincing the uptight, New York attorney of that? Shit. That was probably going to be more difficult than I wanted to believe, and I would absolutely need Sam’s help. He was the dark, brooding, intense one. I had a feeling Catherine would go for the quiet reserve my cousin offered before she would take a chance on a player like me.
Sam set the softball back on his desk and frowned. “Fine. I'll help you find Airplane Girl. But right now, I have work to do. Are we finished?”
I knew when to stop pushing. Until he met Catherine, I wouldn't be able to convince him. She'd be the one to do that.
I stood to leave and gave him a wave as I walked toward the door. “I know, I know, get the hell out.”
Now I just had to find Catherine and figure out a way to introduce her to Sam. One look, and I was confident he wouldn't be able to walk away from her. No fucking way. Getting Catherine into bed with both of us was going to be a bit harder, but neither of us ever backed down from a challenge. And what a hot, enticing challenge she was.
4
CATHERINE
“How long will you be in town?” Cara Smythe asked. I'd found a note with her phone number and the house key tucked beneath the knocker on Uncle Charlie's front door when I arrived.
She grew up on the property next to his and we'd played together as kids when I would visit. I remembered her with red hair, freckles and a blue bike with streamers on the handlebars. God, I had wanted a bike just like that, but living in New York—and with my parents—didn't allow for one, or a puppy, or running through the sprinklers on a hot July afternoon. I remembered Cara as always smiling and happy, whether we were jumping rope or sneaking around after her older brother and his friends. Her parents were equally likable and I always envied their loving relationship. My parents were the complete opposite—spending Christmas on European cruises instead of in front of the tree—and I remember wishing I could stay in Montana forever. Instead, after the summer when I was twelve, I never went back. Life moved on and Cara was married now and lived in town.
“I have a ticket for next Wednesday, but if I get things wrapped up sooner, I'll change it.”
I had stopped in town and picked up a few groceries and coffee so I could survive. Charlie's house was on five acres two miles out of town and I'd figured the cupboards would be bare. I’d figured right.
It made no sense to stay in a hotel when the house was now mine, at least it was officially once I signed the papers. I wasn't picky about where I slept—I could sleep standing up—and staying here was one less thing I'd had to plan while trying to get out of the city. I stood in the kitchen and it was just as I remembered it. Yellow walls, orange laminate counters and dark wood cabinets. Faux brick linoleum covered the floor. It was like stepping back in time, especially holding the phone that was attached to the wall, cord and all. My cell was charging by the coffee maker, but completely useless without any reception. I had no idea there were places in the US that had no cell service. Sure, the top of a mountain or in the middle of a desert maybe, but I was in Bridgewater County, Montana. It might not be heavily populated, but it was populated. Didn't people want to use cell phones around here?
“Why would you want to leave early?” she asked.
I sighed and glanced at the rooster clock over the stove hood. I'd been up thirteen hours and I was feeling it.
“I've got to get back to work.” Just checking my email while waiting in line at the rental car counter had my blood pressure soaring. Mr. Farber hadn't taken Roberts off my case. That meant the longer I was gone, the less chance of getting it back.
“No, you don't. I know you lawyer types, working sixty hour weeks.”
Sixty? Try seventy-five.
“It's Montana in July,” she continued. “Let's have some fun, like when we were kids.”
I pulled a loaf of bread and some peanut butter out of the grocery bag.
“God, Cara, we are so not kids anymore and a bike ride or climbing a tree doesn't do it for me now.”
“When was the last time you rode a bike?” she countered.
I thought back. It had probably been her bike with streamers.
“You're married and I'm… well, I'm a workaholic.”
Cara laughed through the phone. “The first step is admitting it. That's why I left the note, so you wouldn't stay holed up in that house working. And, being married does not mean the end of fun.” She giggled. “The opposite, in fact.”
I had an idea where her mind was going and it only made me a little envious. She had a man who made her laugh at just the thought of being with him. As for Chad, the rat bastard, he was a waste of time and brain power.
“How did you even know I'd be here?” I asked, changing the topic.
I walked to the fridge, put the milk inside, the phone cord stretching as far as it would go. There wasn't any food in the fridge besides an opened box of baking soda, a bottle of ketchup and five cans of Charlie's favorite generic cola. I wasn't sure if it was because someone cleaned out the perishables or not. I remember Charlie was a horrible cook, so it was possible he didn't keep much.
