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  “Or the worst,” she interjected.

  “I argue the proof’s in the puddin’, darlin’. I think that’s what you need, Nikki, a man who’s the best of both—one who knows how to act domesticated and when to be wild.”

  “Act domesticated?”

  “Well, yeah. With men it’s only an act anyway. We aren’t meant to be domesticated. But a woman wants one who knows how to fake it, how to be tender and sensitive when she needs it.”

  “Is that so?” She placed her hand on his arm and leaned in real close. “And how well do you fake it, Wade?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I do. I really, really do,” she insisted.

  Damn. Why had she gone for the tequila? She should have settled for a beer. Maybe it was a subconscious sabotage. If he got her drunk, she could hardly blame herself in the morning for tumbling headlong into his bed. The more she drank, the less complicated the issue seemed. She deserved some fun for a change—and why not a bit of Wild West Wade?

  He leaned in closer still, murmuring hot and low in her ear. “How? By giving her slow and easy, when what I really want is hard and fast.”

  She ran a finger leisurely around the rim of the glass, and then stuck it in her mouth, slowly sucking off the salt residue. She released it with a pop, then leisurely licked the remaining salt from her lips. His Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he tracked every flick and dart of her tongue. He shifted in his seat. Torturing him like this tickled the hell out of her.

  She met his gaze with a mischievous smile. “What makes you think every woman wants slow and easy?”

  * * *

  Holy shit. She’d given him a hard-on with a simple question. It wasn’t the wording as much as the way she’d posed it—with a challenge. Her body language said gimme what you got, cowboy, loud and clear. He suspected the tequila had a lot to do with it, but the hungry look in her eyes made him want to give her hard, fast, and furious right there on the table.

  It was definitely time to go.

  “Are you ready, Nicole?” he asked, already grabbing his hat.

  “What’s your hurry, cowboy?” She gave him a sloppy grin that pricked his conscience.

  He hadn’t set out to get her drunk. That was her doing, but he certainly hadn’t discouraged it either. He’d enjoyed the hell out of watching her inhibitions vaporize and wondered how many, or better yet, how few, still lingered. He wondered if she’d be passive or bold in bed. He was mighty eager to find out.

  “C’mon.” He took her by the arm and gently coaxed her from her seat. “You’ve had enough for one night. I’m taking you home.”

  “Home?” She cocked her head at him. “Home where? If you think you’re gonna sweet-talk my panties off, you got another think coming, Wade. I already told you how I feel and you haven’t changed my mind. No indeed-y. I got your number.”

  “Do you now?” He threw some money on the table and guided her to the door.

  “Yup. Sure do, after seeing how those waitresses were all eyeballing you like a herd of hungry sows waiting at the feeding trough.”

  “A herd of sows? That’s not a pretty picture you paint.”

  She gazed up at him in earnest. “I was simply making an ob-obzervation, Wade.”

  “Sure you were.”

  He let her babble on until they got to the truck, where he was struck by an overwhelming impulse to silence her—with his mouth. He managed to restrain the urge until he reached around her for the door and found himself thigh to thigh with Nikki, her breasts pushing against his chest and her arms entwined around his neck. She looked up at him all soft and warm and welcoming.

  Damn, but it was just too much!

  He pinned her to the door, expecting at least some token resistance after the way she’d been sounding off, but instead, she laced her fingers in his hair, pulled his face down to hers, and then licked his chin! He jerked his head back “What the hell was that?”

  She giggled drunkenly. “That dimple of yours is driving me crazy. I’ve been dying to do that since I first saw you.”

  “Oh yeah?” He grinned back at her. “You can lick any part of me you like, darlin’, as long as you let me reciprocate in kind.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Really? You like that kinda thing?”

  He was taken aback by the question. “Hell, yeah. Find me a man who doesn’t.”

  “I’ve found plenty of ’em,” she replied dryly.

  “Is that so? Then I’d be more than happy to make amends for all those selfish bastards.”

  “Are you for real?”

  “Do I look like I’m bullshitting?” He clasped her hand and brought it down between them, pressing her palm against his engorged prick. “Here’s your proof, sweetheart. The thought of putting my mouth on you has me rigid as rebar.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Why so surprised?”

  “Because I never met a man who wanted to give it before he gets it.”

  He shook his head with a tsk. “Then you’ve been with boys, sweetheart, not men. A man takes care of his woman. While I’m a firm believer in equality, I was also raised to be a gentleman. The rules of gentlemanly conduct are pretty damn clear—ladies always come first.”

  She slumped against him with a muffled moan.

  It was an invitation he couldn’t resist. He dipped his head to claim her mouth, but this wasn’t the leisurely exploration he’d conducted earlier. He was hungry as hell. All that roundabout talk had his mouth watering to taste her—all of her.

  His mouth eagerly melded with her soft and supple lips while his hands cupped her ass. He palmed it with both hands, just the way he’d fantasized about from the first time he’d laid eyes on her, giving it a good hard squeeze, and loving the soft and firm feel of it. She had a great ass.

  She ground herself into him, sending a surge of blood straight to his cock. Growing needier by the second, he thrust his tongue into her mouth and tasted—tequila.

  Shit.

  He couldn’t do it. Yeah, he wanted her in a bad way—in an aching-balls way—but not bad enough to take advantage of her. He’d be the worst kind of heel to take advantage of a grieving woman who’d had too much to drink. As much as he wanted her, she was too boozed up and vulnerable to think straight.

  He’d experienced that vulnerability himself. It was how he’d gotten involved with Allie. He’d been hurting like hell and she’d taken advantage of his shaky state. He’d been too damned out of his head to resist, but with Allie the attraction was never more than skin deep, and any comfort he’d gained from her had long worn off. Now she was more of a habit than anything else. He’d felt that way even before Nikki arrived on the scene, but now the thought of being with Allie again was about as appealing as wearing a pair of boots a size too small.

  Allie was like a diamond—mighty fine to look at but just as hard. Nicole, on the other hand, was soft in a way that stirred an age-old instinct to claim, to protect, to brand as his own. Only a minute ago he’d debated not driving out to the ranch, but returning instead to his office where they’d have privacy, but even as the devil tempted him with a night of sin, he knew he couldn’t do it—not now. Not tonight.

  Shutting his eyes on an inward curse, he released her mouth, although he lingered a bit longer on letting loose of the ass, he was dying to put his mouth and his mark on. Dismissing that thought with another muffled oath, he reached for the door handle. “C’mon, darlin’. I’d better get you to bed.”

  She resisted with a frown when he attempted to herd her into the truck. “About that, Wade. I know I gave you mixed signals, but you need to know I’m still very conflicted.”

  “Conflicted, eh? There’s no need to be.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause nothing more’s gonna happen. That’s why. Not tonight anyway.”

  “Nothing?�
� she repeated blankly. “After all you just said? Y-you can’t just leave it at that! It’s like the female equivalent of blue balls!”

  “Sweetheart, I assure you, there ain’t no female equivalent of blue balls. Nothin’ even close. It’s a uniquely masculine condition, and one I think I’m going to suffer with for the next couple of hours.”

  “B-but you don’t have to—”

  He couldn’t help a chuckle at the note of frantic frustration in her voice. “Darlin’, if you weren’t three sheets to the wind, I promise I’d already have you on your back in the bed of this truck.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

  “I assure you comfort would be the furthest thing from your mind.”

  And based on the tightness of his jeans, it sure as hell was the furthest thing from his.

  Chapter 6

  Nikki awoke to find herself in a large cherry four-poster bed, with sunshine streaming through brightly curtained windows of a room she didn’t recognize—a room with split log walls.

  A log cabin? Where the hell am I?

  Montana!

  She was in Montana. She remembered arriving in Bozeman the night before last and then driving to Sheridan with Wade. She’d seen her father and then…then…her throat tightened.

  Oh shit! She’d gotten totally wasted!

  Why had she gone for tequila? It always made her do crazy things. Stupid things—like sleeping with hot Montana cowboys. With her pulse racing in panic, she forced herself to breathe and take stock. No. It was OK. It must be. One: she was in a very unmasculine bedroom. Two: she was alone. Three: she still had her clothes on—the same ones from last night. Thank God! But that still didn’t ease her mind about where she was or how she got there.

  The last thing she recalled from the night before was Wade’s tongue in her mouth. Well, that wasn’t quite it either, more like the very abrupt and disappointing removal of his tongue from her mouth, followed by the departure of his big, warm hands from her ass. That part, unfortunately, she recalled quite clearly.

  But what had put him off? That she’d been drunk? That would be a first—a man who didn’t want her drunk as a skunk. She supposed she should look at the bright side. Even as trashed as she was, at least Wade hadn’t taken her for some skank who’d give him a blow job without even buying her dinner first. Not that she’d ever sunk that low before. Not with anyone. Not even in high school. Well, there was the incident in the horse trailer at the Toccoa rodeo, but she’d been wasted then, too.

  But Wade had revealed a number of things that made him different from other men. She flushed all over and squeezed her thighs together at a particular revelation. Oh yeah! She remembered that part of their conversation vividly. Of the half-dozen guys she’d slept with in her life, none had ever initiated oral sex. At best it was a halfhearted afterthought…and felt like it too. Something told her that Wade would have put his best foot forward. Damn it all! Now I’ll never know.

  She wondered—if he hadn’t stopped things, if they would really have done it in the bed of his truck? She was afraid to answer that question. Last night she wasn’t exactly herself. She hadn’t been from the moment she’d landed in Denver. She seemed to have lost all common sense along with her ID. How was she ever going to be able to look him in the eye again after he’d seen her shit-faced? Her whirling thoughts threatened to make her dizzy.

  You aren’t gonna get any answers lying in this bed, Nikki. Might as well buck up and face the firing squad. She sat up too abruptly, making her aching head spin and her stomach churn.

  Oh God! Bad mistake, Nikki!

  She drew a few slow, deep breaths, waiting for the return of her equilibrium. Once the dizziness had eased up, she took a better look at her surroundings. The room was large, airy, and comfortable. A thick, brightly patterned quilt on the bed matched the curtains. There were framed prints on the walls too, but it lacked any truly personal touches. Must be a guest room. He’d mentioned the family ranch. Had he taken her there last night? If so, she’d surely be meeting his family.

  Shit. In her present condition, she’d rather face a firing squad.

  Intent on testing her legs, she swung them over the side of the bed, and then lowered her feet to the gleaming heart-of-pine floor, before gingerly pulling herself upright. She thought she might actually be OK until she took a step. Her stomach seized, sending a surge of bile upward into the back of her throat. She clutched the bed post with sweaty hands. Please no! Not in his family’s house.

  A rap on the door sounded softly. “Nicole? Are you all right?”

  “No,” she croaked. “Please, just go away!”

  The door flew open. Then he was there looming over her, all big and strong and looking concerned, when it was his damned fault to begin with. “As bad as all that?” he asked, wrinkles grooving his forehead.

  She choked back her reply and gave a brisk nod, praying she wouldn’t hurl on his boots.

  “Come on, sweetheart. The bathroom’s this way.”

  He half carried her across the hall—just in time for her stomach to let loose a series of crippling spasms. Supporting her body with one strong arm, he held her hair back with the other as she heaved her guts out. Could this get any worse? She couldn’t see how.

  When the convulsive retching finally ceased, he dropped the toilet lid and sat her down on it. She watched dumbly while he filled a Dixie cup from the faucet. She wondered if her humiliation had hit bottom yet, or if there was still more fun to come.

  “The morning after really sucks, doesn’t it?” He offered her the cup with a sympathetic half smile. He wet a wash cloth and handed her that too.

  “Yeah,” she said, avoiding his gaze, mostly for fear of catching her reflection. She didn’t want to know what a mess she was right now. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “The old homestead. The Flying K.”

  “Why am I here? Why didn’t you bring me back to town, especially given the shape I was in?”

  “Thought you’d be more comfortable here, and I certainly wasn’t going to leave you alone in the shape you were in.”

  “But that’s just it. You did leave me alone when you probably could have had your wicked way with me.”

  “Don’t take me for a saint, Nikki. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn’t tempted.”

  “Last night maybe.” She gave a deprecating laugh. “But I think I’ve probably cured you of that affliction for good.”

  He grinned. “Don’t be too sure about that. I’ve got a hearty constitution.” He opened the drawer to the miracle of a brand-new toothbrush. “Here, this might make you feel better. I also brought your bag up. It’s right outside the door. I’ll go get it.”

  “Thanks again, Wade.”

  The minute he turned his back, she loaded up the toothbrush with mint paste and stuck it in her mouth. Her first glance in the mirror almost made her shriek. She had pillow lines on her left cheek, her hair was a virtual rat’s nest, and the makeup smears around her eyes made her resemble a raccoon. “Dear God!”

  She splashed her face with cold water and frantically rubbed at her makeup shadows. She was clawing her fingers through her tangled hair with one hand and nearly brushing the enamel off her teeth with the other, when he reappeared behind her right shoulder. Great! Just in time to see her spit! She debated swallowing the mouthful of toothpaste, but decided against chancing fluoride poisoning just for vanity. Instead, she covered her mouth with one hand and dipped her head low to the sink.

  “You have shitty timing, Wade!”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” He placed his big warm hands on her shoulders with a chuckle. “I’ve worshiped at the porcelain throne more times than I could count. Besides, I’m much to blame. I should have taken you home sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?” she accused.

  “T
ruth?”

  She nodded.

  “Because I wanted to see the real you, that’s why. I wanted to know what you’re like with your hair down, wanted to hear you laugh.”

  “You got all that and a bag of chips, didn’t you, cowboy?” Had they stayed any longer she’d likely have given him a tabletop striptease.

  His laugh rumbled from deep in his chest. “Don’t underestimate me, darlin’. I can handle whatever you dish out.”

  Nikki had no reply. That seemed to be happening far too often lately. What had happened to her self-possession? It seemed to have evaporated the minute she met him.

  Shit. She had it bad.

  He pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the tap. “A hot shower will do you a world of good. I’ll wait until you’re done and then take you down to breakfast.” He glanced at his watch. “Or maybe I should say brunch.”

  “Is it really that late?”

  “Almost ten, which is practically dinnertime on a ranch. You’d better get a wiggle on it if we’re to get to the bank in Sheridan. They close at noon on Saturday.”

  “The bank?”

  “I thought of it last night. You said you need a credit card to get a duplicate license, so we’ll go get you one of those prepaid Visa cards. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me yesterday.”

  “But I have no money.”

  “I can spot you a couple of hundred for the card until you get things sorted out.”

  “Are you sure?” She chewed her lip. She hated to be even more indebted to him, but what choice did she really have? “I’ll pay you back, of course.”

  “Don’t fret about it,” he scoffed. “Let’s just get the card and then we’ll go back to my office where you can get online and take care of things.”

  “Don’t you have a laptop with you?”

  “Sure I do, but it won’t do you any good without an Internet connection.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t have Internet here?”

  He shook his head with a laugh. “Hell, we only got a satellite dish a few years ago. Mama believes too much TV rots the brain.”