Her Royal Bed Page 9

  “You heard me.” She stared at him. “No more mixed signals, Callahan.”

  “No.” That promise was going to be the death of him. He slid his thigh between her legs and nudged at the soft V. “You want to go riding?”

  A smile touched her lips. “Are we talking horses or something else?”

  He gave her a wicked smile, his thigh shifting back and forth over the core of her. “First one, then the other.”

  “What about the work I was called here to do?” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

  “Next group is in two hours.”

  “Two hours?” Jane repeated, smiling. “Abel failed to mention that.”

  Bobby leaned in, nuzzled her neck, and reveled in the quick smack of her pulse against his mouth. “He’s got a notion he needs to matchmake.”

  On a soft sigh, Jane managed to say, “We’re way past that.”

  “Yes” he muttered, nipping, suckling his way back to her mouth. “We’re into soul mate territory now.”

  Jane’s breath hitched.

  Bobby held her steady gaze for a moment.

  What the hell had made him say something like that? After all, he didn’t believe in all that romantic, greeting-card baloney.

  Teeth gritted, he meditated on an alarming query. Was it possible that his two worlds were suddenly colliding—the fact and the fantasy?

  He never got the time to seek an answer. Jane had snaked her arms around his neck and was pulling his mouth down, down, down atop hers once again.

  The sun beat down on Jane’s back, hot and inescapable.

  Today, she had her own horse. Though she’d loved sitting behind Bobby yesterday, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek to his back, she’d wanted to experience something new, to learn and to impress the man beside her with her fabulous equestrian skills.

  And she’d only fallen off once.

  Oddly, her horse had stopped short in front of a particularly large cactus. Thank goodness they’d only been walking, or no doubt she’d have ended up with more than a scratch on the hand.

  “Let’s give the horses a rest,” Bobby said after they’d ridden for a while. “There’s a lake just over that rise. We could have a swim.”

  She grinned. “No showers out here, I suppose?”

  “City gal,” Bobby needled playfully, looking entirely too sexy in his worn jeans and white T-shirt, every inch of him bronzed skin and hard muscle as he rode his gray stallion as though he’d been born atop him. “You know, if you want to be a real cowgirl, you can’t expect any fancy showers on the trail.”

  “Who says I want to be a cowgirl?” She tossed the words out as they rode over the rise and down to a kidney-bean-shaped lake, its water very clear and calm.

  “That’s right,” he said, finding her gaze. “You’re not sure you’re going to end up in Texas, are you?”

  She shook her head, sighed. “Not sure where I’m going to end up, period.”

  Bobby turned his gaze from her, and pointed to the lake. “You know, you can’t go in there with your clothes on.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “Water looks great, though,” he remarked, swinging his leg over the saddle and jumping down.

  “I have no aversion to skinny-dipping, Mr. Callahan,” Jane said as Bobby helped her down from the beautiful chestnut mare. He tethered the horses then returned to stand close in front of her.

  “And I have no aversion to watching you,” said Bobby in delighted, wicked tones. “Although, joining you sounds damn good, too.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know about skinny-dipping with company,” she teased. “That’s a whole different matter.”

  His mouth curved into a sexy smile as he found the edge of her pale-blue tank top and slowly inched it upward. “There’s mean fish in that lake.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nodded, mock concern threading his tone. “Who’ll protect you?”

  “Good point.” She raised her arms above her head and, with her heart smacking excitedly against her ribs, she allowed him to remove her tank top.

  Bobby tossed the fabric onto a rock, then shifted his gaze to the top button of her jeans. “Shall I continue?”

  “I think I can handle it from here,” she said, unzipping her jeans, wondering when Bobby would follow suit, wondering how he would look naked under all this sunshine. “So, what’s the probability of anyone seeing us?”

  “Zero,” Bobby told her. “No one comes out this far but me and Abel and, as you said, he’s pretty occupied with your mother.”

  Jane forgot about her bra and panties. In fact, she forgot to breathe as she watched Bobby remove his shirt. Ridiculously, time seemed to slow, and the faint strains of an Al Green love song played in her head. Cut and bronzed, Bobby Callahan was a sight to behold. The only time she’d seen him without his clothes had been their evening in bed at the Turnbolts’ where it had been dark, and she’d had to feel her way. With greedy eyes, she surveyed him—barrel-chested, with just a sprinkling of dark hair around his nipples and down to his navel. She swallowed thickly, her breasts tingling as she imagined brushing the hard tips back and forth against his chest.

  Her fingers ached to grab at his stomach, so rock-hard, it looked as though he’d been slashed with a woman’s fingernails. She watched his hands move lower, to his belt buckle. Off went the strip of worn leather, down went the zipper. Her throat was strained, her chest, too, as she watched him remove his jeans and the tight cotton shorts beneath. She sucked in a breath as her gaze moved up. Solid calves, powerful thighs and the thick, demanding muscle in between.

  “Hey there.”

  She looked up, dazed, her cheeks as hot as the rest of her.

  He was grinning at her. “This ain’t no peep show.”

  “Right,” was all she could manage.

  “Get those skivvies off and let’s go swimming.”

  He was at the water’s edge in seconds, then dove beneath the clear blue before Jane could even register what he’d said.

  Waiting until he dove under once again, Jane quickly removed her bra and panties and hurried down to the water. But she was only up to her ankles in the cool lake, when Bobby surfaced. When he saw her, her breasts moving as she walked, the dark curls between her legs, sexual awareness darkened his face.

  He dove under the water again and resurfaced before her. Without a word, he eased her into his arms and held her to him, though his eyes remained fixed on hers. “I don’t think I’ve seen you until today.”

  She laughed, wrapped her legs lightly around his waist. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Disappointed?” he asked with a devilish grin, as if he knew the answer.

  “Get serious,” she said, every inch of her electrified with the sensation of his wet skin against hers, and the center of him now hard as steel at her belly.

  He pushed a strand of hair out of her eye. “You know, Kimmy and I used to swim here when we were kids. Dad taught her, was real careful with her, but she didn’t want any of it.”

  “She sounds like she was an amazing girl.”

  “Yeah. Tough girl. Real loving, too.”

  “I wish I could’ve met her.”

  His eyes went soft, and he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “She would’ve liked you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Kimmy had a soft spot for funny, kind…good people, I guess.”

  A bashful smile tugged at Jane’s mouth. The way he talked to her, about her, made her feel so cared for, and the way he touched her, gently yet possessively, made her want only to kiss him. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself closer to the blunt, plum-shaped tip of him. “Do you have a soft spot, Bobby?” she whispered close to his mouth, near that slash of a scar that so intrigued her.

  “I’m looking at her.”

  His hand moved down her back, rolled over her buttocks and underneath where fine hair gave way to the slick entrance to her body. Jane arched her back, clo
sed her eyes as she felt his fingers get closer.

  “This is another one of my soft spots,” Bobby whispered in her ear as he slipped one thick finger inside her.

  A moan escaped Jane’s throat and she pumped her hips, back and forth, taking him in and out of her body. Bobby’s tongue lapped lightly at her ear, a sensation that was entirely new to Jane—a sensation that had her on the verge of orgasm in seconds.

  “And this,” he breathed into her ear. “This is very, very soft.”

  He continued to lick and nibble at her ear as he pushed a second and third finger inside her. He was so deep, the tips of his fingers flicking back and forth against a spot so highly sensitive, Jane thought she might pass out.

  She gripped his shoulder, needed the support, then felt a desperate urge to touch him as he was touching her. Down her hand raked, over his chest and belly until she found him, his erection, thick and pulsing. She wrapped her hand around him, stroked from the base to the top, circling her thumb over the smooth hood until she felt something hot and sticky-wet, so different from the lake water, drip from the tip.

  “So soft, so hard,” she uttered, feeling weak and ready to give in.

  Her sex pulsed as he thrust his fingers inside her, smacked and teased and tormented at the spot that ached and felt electric. Despite the cool water, she was sweltering. She pumped him as he pumped her, and listened to his breath run ragged. She arched, hovered on the brink….

  “Come with me,” Bobby whispered against her throat as he placed the pad of his thumb on the plump ridge of nerves beneath her dark hair.

  Yes. Yes.

  She couldn’t speak. Climax was upon her. Her muscles stiffened, inside and out, and she released an unabashed cry into the sunshine and blue sky. Bobby followed, his body convulsing in ocean-like waves, his shaft throbbing in her hand.

  Passion spread like wildfire over his face, made his eyes burn blue flames as he gave in, his mouth capturing hers in such an all-consuming way, Jane would have sworn she was having her soul ripped from her body.

  They lay together in a patch of sunlight, feeling lazy and comfortable and not at all ready to leave, but…

  “The horses are restless,” Jane said, drowsily.

  Bobby rose up on an elbow and looked down at her, so bone-weakeningly sexy in nothing more than a few specks of grass. “I hate to say it—God knows I do—but it is getting late. We should head back.”

  “We could always come again,” Jane said, then realized the double meaning in her words and laughed.

  “And again and again and again.” Bobby followed, chuckling.

  Her gaze moved over him in a way that had his laughter turning to awareness. “All right, now,” he began warily. “You better put some clothes on or I’ll forget I have a bunch of kids waiting for me.”

  She looked horrified. “You can’t do that.”

  “I know.” He pitched her tank top at her, along with her jeans. “Hurry it up now.”

  They both dressed quickly and were back atop their horses riding for home when Bobby turned to her and asked, “Do you still want to help out with the kids? You don’t have to. After all, Abel really tricked—”

  “I want to stay, Bobby,” she told him in all sincerity.

  He nodded, feeling as if he’d won the lottery today. The lake had never felt so cool, the sun had never been so pleasingly warm and he’d never felt so wanted by anyone in his life. Jane was a woman without inhibitions. She didn’t need rose petals or Frank Sinatra. She gave of herself, totally and freely. She took what she needed, but made certain her partner felt every ounce of her pleasure in his own.

  She was rare.

  And he didn’t deserve to touch her.

  They arrived back at the ranch in just under twenty minutes. The first thing Bobby saw was a tall blond woman in her fifties standing outside the corral fence with Abel. She was brushing down Missy, a sweet black Morgan. She looked unsure of herself with the horse, but she was laughing with Abel—as though they’d known each other for much longer than an hour or two.

  Bobby hadn’t met her, but he was pretty sure the woman was Jane’s mother, Tara Hefner. And upon closer inspection, he saw that she had Jane’s mouth and her long, lean body.

  Jane was off her horse as soon as they reached the pair. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Tara said with a laugh, looking in Jane’s direction.

  “But you’re afraid of horses. I thought you were just going to get the kids ready with helmets and stuff.”

  Abel smiled at Tara and patted Missy. “Is that so, Tar? ’Fraid of horses? Well, you sure fooled me. I thought you’d been around these lugs your whole life.”

  Tara blushed and shook her head. “Oh, Abel.”

  Clearly shocked, and maybe even a little bothered by the expeditious intimacy of the pair, Jane took her mother’s hand and led her over to Bobby. “Mom, I’d like you to meet someone. This is Bobby Callahan.”

  Like her daughter, Tara Hefner was a very beautiful, fine-figured woman. She stuck her hand out, and said in a warm voice, “Hi, Bobby.”

  Bobby softened in Tara’s presence, couldn’t help it. She had a Southern femaleness about her, and he understood right away why Abel was acting crazy. Heck, her daughter had that sweet openness, too.

  He shook her hand. “It’s good to know you, Mrs. Hefner.”

  “I hope you don’t mind another assistant?”

  “Not at all. In fact, my daddy used to say, ‘It don’t take a genius to spot a ready angel in a flock of weary sheep.’”

  That made her smile, and she leaned close to him, whispering, “Your father sounds like a good man.”

  “I like to think so,” Bobby said tightly, not missing the quizzical look Jane gave him.

  Little more was said as the children arrived. Bobby put Jane to work immediately, assisting with the preparations and mounting. From time to time, he’d glance her way, his gut tightening with pride as he watched her, so gentle as she encouraged a young girl from her wheelchair and onto the back of Dandy, an old white mare. She was comfortable here already, comfortable with him, his life and his body. Heat surged into his blood as a flash of memory from this afternoon entered his mind.

  He forced his gaze away, onto Abel and Tara, who were working as a team. While Abel led two horses around the paddock, Tara held onto the top of the stirrup, talking to the young boy in the saddle.

  It was a sight for sad eyes.

  This place hadn’t seen the likes of Tara and Jane for a long time and everything here, kids, horses and staff alike seemed to blossom under their care.

  Bobby lifted Kitty Johnson onto the back of an old quarter horse, his gut twisting painfully as he realized that the promise he’d made to his father would soon rip this wonderful, short-lived reality from his sights for good.

  Nine

  It was close to sundown when a weary Tara and a beaming Jane returned to the house of Al-Nayhal. The lush and highly polished surroundings felt just a little chilly after the warm modesty of KC Ranch. Especially when Sakir Al-Nayhal, dressed in a flowing white kaftan, met them at the front door, his face set with grim determination.

  “Good evening, sister, Tara.” He nodded at each of them, his gaze so stern it caused Jane’s cheerful mood to fade slightly.

  It was no mystery what was about to happen. Under the priceless chandelier, another confrontation between her and her brother over Jane’s choice of man was about to take place. But after the wonderful time she’d had today, she was more than armed to fight him.

  “Good evening, Sakir,” Tara said quickly, obviously sensing the tension in the air. “Is Rita with us?”

  “No, she is with the baby. Daya is having trouble sleeping.”

  “Ah,” Tara said sagely, turning toward Jane. “I remember many a night walking the hallway with you in my arms.”

  “Just didn’t want to sleep,” Jane explained to Sakir. “I was always a problem child.”

&nb
sp; “That’s not true,” Tara defended passionately.

  Jane laughed. “But I grew out of it.”

  “I am not so sure,” Sakir said softly, then when he had captured Jane’s attention, continued, “You worked at KC Ranch this afternoon, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  A heavy sigh was followed by a glance in Tara’s direction. “Please talk some sense into your daughter, Tara.”

  Tara smiled patiently. “It’s not that simple, Sakir.”

  “It must be.”

  “Just wait until your Daya grows up. You’ll see that once they are adults, you have little influence over their decisions.”

  Sakir lifted his chin and stated proudly, “It will not be so with my daughter.”

  Tara’s smile widened. “Well, I think I’m going to head upstairs. It’s been a long day.”

  “Wait,” Jane said, reaching for her mother’s hand. “I’ll take you up.”

  “That is not necessary.” Sakir clapped his hands three times and Marian appeared in the doorway. “Please take Ms. Hefner to her room.”

  Marian inclined her head, then went to Tara’s side, rested her hand on the older woman’s arm. “Ms. Hefner?”

  “Goodnight,” Tara said to the both of them with a touch of hesitancy in her voice. “Be kind to each other.”

  Knowing it was important to reassure her mother that everything was going to be all right, Jane used a phrase from her childhood. “Sleep tight, Mom.”

  Tara granted her a nod and a loving smile before following the housekeeper up the stairs.

  When she was gone, Sakir motioned for Jane to follow him into the living room, where a healthy blaze crackled and snapped in the fireplace. Jane sat beside him on a long, gray chenille sofa and waited for him to say whatever it was that he needed to say.

  It didn’t take long.

  “You are falling for him, yes?”

  Eyebrows knit together, Jane laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”

  “My wife has said this. About you and…Callahan.”

  “Has she?”

  “She thinks you are in love.” He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest. “I cannot allow this, Jane. I only accepted your dates with Bobby Callahan because I thought that would be all of it. Just a few casual outings. After all, the man has never taken any woman seriously since I have known him.”