Leather and Lust Read online

  “You’re limping,” he said, pissed at himself for not noticing she was hurt. He’d been too busy imagining his mouth moving over those creamy swells, his hands gliding up the smooth flesh of those sweet thighs. “Did you twist your ankle?”

  “No.” She stopped to whip off a shoe. Then, straightening, she dangled it from an extended finger. “I broke the heel off my new Louis Vuitton sling back.”

  “Louie who?” Sling what?

  “Louis Vuitton,” she repeated. “Never mind. Do you have a cell phone I can borrow? I need to call for a tow truck and my phone doesn’t get any signal out here.”

  He tugged at his necktie, anxious to get out of the monkey suit he wore whenever he traveled out of town on business. “I have one, but it won’t do you much good.”

  “No signal for you either?”

  “Getting a signal isn’t a problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Willie, who runs the tow service around here, shuts down at four o’clock sharp.”

  “Surely he has an emergency number we could call.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Damn it.”

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “He’ll be back in the shop at 8:00.”

  “Tonight?” she asked hopefully.

  “Tomorrow.”

  The woman groaned. Her cherry red lips formed a pout that drew his gaze to her incredibly full mouth and held it there. He found himself fighting tooth and nail against the urge to kiss that frown away. To taste those lips. His lustful reverie didn’t stop there. He imagined those same lips wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down the length of it until he came long and hard. But she wouldn’t stop there. She’d draw him into her mouth again and again until she’d suck him dry.

  Jackson bit back a groan, his body responding almost painfully to the fantasy. Hell. The last thing he needed to do was entangle himself with some high-strung city girl. The kind who blew sickening amounts of money on fake hair, fake nails and fake tits to go along with their fake personalities. He’d already been there, done that. Would never do it again.

  “Do you think I might trouble you for a ride?”

  His cock thumped. Giving her a ‘ride’ was all he seemed to be able to think about. Jackson gave himself a mental head slap. Get your mind out of her pants, Burke.

  “Sure. Come on,” he said with a nod as he turned and started back toward his truck.

  Jillian smiled for the first time since her rental hunk-of-junk broke down in the middle of ‘cow country’. The dark-eyed stranger who’d come to her rescue had the sexiest smile she had ever seen. He was exactly the kind of man she was drawn to. Desired.

  But he’s not a cowboy, she reminded herself, her smile fading. She refused to allow herself to revert back to her old ways. No suit and tie hottie for her this trip. Even if he wanted her. And want her he did. She’d seen the push of his straining cock beneath his suit jacket. Seen the hunger in his eyes as his gaze slid over her.

  Her own gaze shifted to the man’s back and those broad shoulders as he walked back to his truck. He was tall and lean, and, judging by the fit of his suit jacket, quite muscular. A rush of warmth moved through her to settle between her thighs, making her pussy ache.

  Don’t even think about it. You came all the way out here to find a rough and tough, fuck me like there’s no tomorrow cowboy. Not another sexy, nine-to-fiver in a business suit.

  Slipping off her other heel, she followed him, treading lightly in her bare feet.

  Her rescuer rounded the truck and opened the passenger door as turned to face her. “Give me your hand,” he said, the low timbre of his voice making her want to give him more than just her hand. She stepped up to him, hesitating.

  “It’s a ways up there,” he said with a nod toward the bench seat.

  Jillian looked up at her rescuer. He towered over her, something she found both intimidating and arousing. Her gaze slid down the front of him to the fly of his pants where his outstretched arm caused his jacket to part. There, beneath the charcoal grey cloth, his cock thrust out with impressive force.

  The man cleared his throat, bringing a rush of warmth to her cheeks.

  She hurried to reach for his extended hand. Only he pulled away with a grin and caught her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly up onto the leather seat of his truck.

  His face was only inches from her breasts as he leaned into the cab. His nearness evoking all sorts of sexually charged thoughts. Like what it would be like to have him turn her to face him, dragging her to the edge of the seat as he parted her legs. Of his fingers yanking her panties aside and his tongue thrusting deep inside the lust-swollen lips of her wet pussy.

  “You smell really good,” he said as he backed away to close the door.

  So do you, she thought as she breathed in the lingering spicy scent of his aftershave. One she didn’t recognize, but liked immensely.

  “I’m so glad you came by,” she said as her far too sexy, dark-haired rescuer slid onto the seat beside her, tossing his suit jacket onto the seat between them. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to spend the night alone on the side of the road.”

  He gave the key in the ignition a sharp twist and the engine roared to life. Then, he turned to face her, draping an arm across the seat behind her. “Lucky for you I cut my business trip short a day. Otherwise, you would have. This is the road to my ranch. No one else uses it.”

  She eyed him in disbelief. He didn’t look like a man who would put down roots on a piece of land out in the middle of nowhere. “You own a ranch?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Are you telling me you’re a cowboy?”

  He laughed. “I suppose you could say that.”

  Her gaze moved over him again as he sat there grinning at her. “Where are your hat and spurs?”

  “Spurs?” He raised a dark brow, yet the humor remained in his dark eyes.

  “You know, the whole cowboy getup - tight jeans, dark hat worn low on your brow, boots, spurs, the works.”

  “You didn’t happen to smoke any of that grass that left those stains on your skirt, did you?”

  Jillian glanced down at her favorite travel suit and frowned. It was irreparably ruined. She looked up at the so-called cowboy beside her with a frown. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I wasn’t trying to be a smart ass. I just find it funny that some people still believe real cowboys spend their days in cowboy hats and spurs.”

  Okay, so maybe that was her preconceived image of a cowboy. But cowboys didn’t go around in business suits either. Why would they? The man beside her had to be a cowboy wannabe. He wore his suit way too well not to be. And the strong attraction she felt towards him was a dead giveaway. He was a suit and tie guy. Definitely her type, but not the type she was looking to seduce on this trip. She had to get to the dude ranch where she’d have her choice of genuine hot blooded cowboys.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, thank you for stopping to give me a ride, Mr., uh...” She paused, realizing that she didn’t even know his name.

  He flashed a sexy grin that made her grateful she was sitting down. “Jackson Burke,” he supplied, extending a large hand. “And you are?”

  “Jillian Summers.” She held out her hand but stopped before making contact with his much larger one. “I’ve got grease on my hand. I’d hate to get you dirty.”

  He reached for it anyhow. “That’s okay,” he said with a grin. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty once in a while.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  His words combined with the huskiness of his tone nearly had her melting into a puddle of lust right there on his seat. Getting dirty with a man like Jackson Burke was exactly what her body ached for.

  She looked down to where their hands met, to where his long fingers closed over her much smaller ones, and found herself wondering what it might be like to have them caressing her bare flesh. Have them touching her in places she yearne
d to be touched. Stroked. Pleasured.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, drawing her gaze back to that strong, whisker-shadowed jaw and those firm lips. Then further up to those dark chocolate eyes.

  All she could do was stare, like she was under some very sensual, very hypnotic spell.

  He withdrew his hand from hers and grabbed for the steering wheel. “So where can I take you?”

  To bed for starters.

  “To the Blooming Rose Ranch.”

  His head snapped around. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Well, maybe back to my rental car first so I can grab my things. I’ll call Willie’s garage in the morning if you’ll be so kind as to give me his number.”

  “Look, Ms. Summers-”

  “Jillian.”

  “Jillian. I just returned from a long business trip and I’m tired. Definitely not up for a two hour round trip drive to Pinedale. You’re welcome to stay at my place tonight. We can see to your car in the morning.”

  “Wait until morning?” One less day to find her cowboy.

  He jerked a thumb toward the back window. “Pinedale’s a good hour back that way. That’s two round trip for me. So either you spend the night in your car or stay at my place. Your choice.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Jackson quirked a dark brow. “Shit?”

  “Hell, damn, whatever you prefer,” she blurted out, her voice quivering. “I can’t believe I’m that far away from the dude ranch. I mean I can maneuver the freeways in L.A. without any problem, but I get lost in the land of dirt roads. This is just great.”

  She sounded close to tears. He offered a soothing smile. “So you overshot your destination a little bit. It’s not that bad, really.”

  “How can you say that? It’s the worst thing that could have happened.”

  He let out a husky chuckle as he pulled up alongside her rental car. “I can think of worse.”

  “You don’t understand,” she groaned. “Never mind. If you could just run me into town, I’ll get a hotel room for the night. That way I won’t be imposing on you.”

  He slung an arm over top the steering wheel and turned to her again, trying to understand why she was in such an all-fire hurry to get to some tourist driven guest ranch. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news again, but Deep Spring doesn’t have a hotel. The nearest one is a good forty-five minute drive from here. Hell, we’re barely big enough for a post office. And you wouldn’t be imposing. I have a guest room if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “What if it takes more than a day to fix my car?”

  “You’re welcome to stay until its fixed.” Longer if he had his way.

  She let out a sexy little sigh. “This messes up everything, you know. I only have one week to find myself a real cowboy and now I’m stuck here for who knows how long.”

  Jackson couldn’t help but grin. “I thought I’d already cleared that little misconception of yours up. Just because a man dresses like a cowboy, don’t mean he is one. And you sure as hell aren’t gonna find a real one at the Blooming Rose Ranch.”

  “It said ‘authentic cowboys’ in their brochure,” she argued halfheartedly.

  “And you believe everything you read?”

  She fell silent, nibbling at that plush pink bottom lip of hers. One he wouldn’t mind nibbling on himself.

  Shaking the thought from his head, he slid from the truck and walked around to help her down. “I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear, but that place is nothing more than a resort for the rich and famous. Not the sort of place a real cowboy would hang out. Take it from one who knows.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “You really expect me to believe you’re a real cowboy?”

  “I might not go around wearing six shooters on my hips,” he said with a grin, “but I was born and raised in Wyoming, own a ranch with horses, and I’m usually wearing boots unless I’m out of town on business.”

  Something closely resembling excitement flickered in those big, beautiful green eyes of hers as she eyed him up and down. Down in particular.

  He followed her gaze to the fly of his pants where his cock refused to be restrained. “Don’t let the business attire fool you, darlin’,” he said with an unabashed grin. “I can assure you I’m all cowboy where it counts.”

  “I’m sure you are,” she replied as she jerked her gaze away and stepped past him to grab her things. It was the same condescending tone his ex used to use on him when she was in one of her ‘moods’; which ended up being more often than naught. Another reason he needed to refrain from acting on the desire that tugged at his balls. City and country just didn’t mix.

  He waited by the truck as she collected her things.

  She pulled a small, wheeled suitcase behind her. A smaller carry-on was slung along with her purse over her shoulder. She looked up, meeting his gaze as she stepped around him and into the vee of the open passenger door. “Okay, I’m ready.” She turned to face him. “For your guest room.”

  Jackson leaned in, his hands braced against the doorframe on either side of her head. “Let’s get one thing straight before we go, Miss Summers. I’m not looking to be some city girl’s play thing, so your virtue is safe where I’m concerned.” Even as he spoke the words desire pooled below his belt, thickening him. Contradicting him.

  Something very similar to desire flickered to life in those big green eyes. “And what makes you think I’d consider you for my ‘play toy’?”

  He was trying like hell not to look down the front of her open blouse, at the fleshy swells of her breasts which taunted him with every breath she took. But concentrating on her face did nothing to ease his hunger. Not when those incredibly full lips were parted just so, that damned sexy tongue of hers darting in and out to moisten them. Hell, he could think of a far better uses for that overactive tongue of her. Like release his throbbing cock from beneath the tented fly of his pants and sink to her knees in front of him... He forced the image from his mind.

  “Deny it all you want,” he said, not bothering to hide the huskiness of desire in his voice. “But I’ve seen you measuring up my cock with your heated gaze.”

  She made no attempt to deny it. “Are you married?”

  “What?”

  “Because I’m not the kind of woman who has sex with a married man.”

  His pulse kicked up another notch. His bold words had been meant to put a wall up between them, not to draw her to him.

  “No,” he answered, “I’m not.”

  She smiled. “Seeing anyone?”

  He shook his head. “Not currently.”

  “Good.” Reaching out, she ran her fingertips down the front of his shirt.

  Jaw clenched, Jackson watched the slender hand trail its way down his chest, stopping mere inches from his jutting arousal. “What are you doing?” he ground out.

  “I’m going to find out if you cowboys are everything my friend’s make you out to be.” Her hand cupped the front of his tented fly.

  Jackson closed his eyes, a low hiss sliding through his teeth. He’d always been the aggressor. Not this time. Yet he welcomed her eager touch, silently cursing the cloth barrier between her hand and his throbbing cock.

  “Not too worn out from your trip, I see,” she said as her hand continued its slow, determined caress of his pulsing erection.