Cowboy Enchantment

chapter Nine


When Erica woke up, her muscles felt stiff, and at first she wasn’t sure where she was. This definitely wasn’t her New York apartment or her suite. She sat up gingerly, took in the baby toys, the windup swing, the box of disposable diapers visible on the changing table in the alcove.

It all came back to her—her wild ride, then Hank, and the night spent chasing Sebastian, eating breakfast together and falling asleep on the couch. Where she still was. Where she was trying to get her bearings.

She heard a gentle snoring from the room beyond and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her contact lenses felt itchy, and she didn’t have any wetting solution with her. Perhaps Hank kept some in his medicine cabinet.

Blurry-eyed, she stumbled toward the bathroom door. Her foot smacked against something—the windup swing? the edge of the playpen?—and the snoring stopped. Since the door wasn’t closed, she peeked through the bedroom doorway. Her vision wasn’t so blurry that she couldn’t see that Hank was lying on top of the sheet in all his nude glory. And he was quite glorious.

Quickly she glanced away, then sneaked another look in midstep. Her foot came down on a squeaky toy, which went EEEeeekk. Hank was up from the bed in an instant.

“Wha—Oh, Erica, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry, I was only going in the bathroom for a minute, it’s my contact lenses, I thought maybe you might have some wetting solution, eyedrops. Uh, wow.” Totally flustered, she stood helplessly as Hank yanked a towel off the chair beside the bed and wrapped it around himself.

“No harm done. That’s how I like to sleep. What time is it, do you know?”

“Past noon. Excuse me,” and she went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“You’ll find contact lens supplies in the drawer on your left—take what you need,” he called through the door as Erica collapsed against it. She’d seen nude men before, but never one like this. He was perfect. But hadn’t she known that when she’d decided he was the perfect cowboy?

She lubricated her contact lenses, washed her face and ran her fingers through her hair. When she went back into the living room, the afghan was folded neatly at the end of the couch and Hank was talking on the phone.

“I’ll come pick her up after the trail ride. Give her a kiss, okay?”

“I’d better go,” Erica said. “I didn’t mean to camp out on your couch.”

“It’s okay. What are you going to do this afternoon?”

“Catch a few more z’s. How about you?”

“I’m taking a group on a trail ride. Don’t worry, I can get by on a few hours’ sleep.” He paused, seemed to assess her mood. “I know it’s not much, but would you like to drop over for supper tonight? Kaylie will be here, but I could throw some burgers on the grill. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

Mind? Of course she didn’t mind. She was happy to be invited. She beamed at him, but at that moment she happened to glance out the window and saw Lizette trudging along toward the stables, a determined look on her face. Hank caught sight of her at the same time.

“Are you sure you won’t have something else to do?” Erica asked pointedly as Lizette disappeared from sight.

“Positive,” Hank said, and his voice had a hard edge to it.

ERICA SLEPT that afternoon, and when she woke up, she looked over her new clothes and tried to figure out what to wear for her date with Hank tonight. Or was it a date? She wasn’t sure.

And then there was the matter of ogling his nude body. Worse, he’d caught her doing it. What guy wouldn’t invite her over in hopes of getting lucky? But, she thought musingly, she might get lucky, too.

While she mulled this over, the blue light on the phone blinked, signifying a call. She scooped up the receiver. “Erica here.”

“Erica, is there anything you want to tell me? Not that you have to, but…” Charmaine’s voice trailed off expectantly.

“Charmaine, there isn’t anything to tell. Yet.” Erica laughed.

“Oh.”

“Except I’m having supper with Hank and his daughter tonight.”

“You don’t do babies.” It was a family joke, initiated by their sister, Abby, who claimed to have inherited the only maternal instinct among the three sisters.

Erica replied thoughtfully, “You know, when I held Kaylie and looked into her pretty blue eyes, all I could think of was that she was Hank’s daughter and how much she looks like him. He’s such a good father, Char. I admire that.”

“I hardly know why. You’ve often said that you didn’t understand why parenthood was such a big deal.”

“I’m not sure anymore. I felt a definite stirring of maternalism when Kaylie wrapped her fingers around my thumb.”

“What are they feeding you out there? Some kind of hormone-saturated meat?”

“They’re feeding me quite well, and have you ever considered, Char, that now that I’m away from the city I’m a new person?” She caught a glimpse of her fluffy hair in the mirror across the room. She smiled at her reflection. She not only looked different, she felt different. She felt voluptuous. She felt sexy. She felt like the kind of person who could pass for a cowboy’s sweetheart.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Charmaine said, sounding slightly envious.

“There are a couple of things bothering me,” Erica admitted, taking the phone into the sitting room and lying back on the comfortable couch.

“Well, let’s hear them.”

“For one thing, if he asked me over for hamburgers and his baby is there, is it a real date?”

“Probably, if he seemed eager for your company. Or was the invitation only because he’s lonely for adult companionship? Some single fathers find themselves babbling baby talk after a week with the kid, and they tend to glom on to any available woman who can string a couple of coherent sentences together.”

This stumped her. Hank had seemed eager for her company, or so she thought. But Charmaine’s observation shed doubt on the evening. He had said he’d enjoyed her company. Did he enjoy her for herself or because she was an escape from baby food, baby toys, baby diapers, baby everything?

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “He seems to like me. We spent the night together—”

“You what?”

“Oh, it wasn’t like that. We were out looking for Sebastian—he’s this horse who escaped and it was my fault after I left him in back of the old hacienda. Hank came looking for me, it was after midnight, and we—”

“Erica! Stop! My head is spinning. Could you please explain a bit more slowly?”

Erica sighed. “You had to have been there, I guess.”

“I hope you’ll send me some pictures of this guy. You could upload directly from your camera onto your computer and attach them to an e-mail.”

“I haven’t taken any pictures of him, Char. We’ve been too busy for that.”

“You know, you’re beginning to convince me that Rancho Encantado is a magic place, after all.” Charmaine sounded wistful.

“You’re probably right. I find the talking cat puzzling, though.”

“Talking cat? Did you say ‘talking cat’?”

“Uh-huh. Bye, Char. Talk to you later.”

Erica was grinning as she returned the phone to its cradle. Now if she could only figure out what to wear tonight. It would have to be something she could slip out of gracefully if things got hot and heavy.

HANK RETURNED from his assigned trail ride in a less-than-cheerful frame of mind. Lizette, who had doggedly followed him into the stable, was tagging after him while he saw to the horses.

“Lizette, I really have work to do,” he said, hoping she would take the hint. He saw Mrs. Gray, the cat, jump down off a feed sack and scamper over to Lizette, who ignored her.

“Henry, how about if we duck out for a sophisticated dinner in town, you and me?” Lizette said brightly.

“For one thing, there’s no such thing as a sophisticated dinner in Sonoco. The only restaurant is a booth or two in the Lucky Buck Saloon. Besides, I have plans for this evening.”

Lizette didn’t look her best when she pouted, but she pouted, anyway. “Henry, I’ll only be here for a couple of days.”

“Thank goodness,” he mumbled under his breath.

Lizette froze as Mrs. Gray twined through her ankles. “Get this cat away from me,” she said crossly. “I hate cats.”

Mrs. Gray, looking wounded, went over to the entrance to the tack room and sat.

“You and I need to talk,” Hank said firmly to Lizette as he fastened the door to Melba’s stall.

Don’t bother, said the cat.

“What?” At first he thought Lizette had spoken, but he gathered from the tears in her eyes that she was unable to speak. He didn’t have time to worry about talking cats; he had to do something about Lizette.

“Liz,” he began in a conciliatory tone.

“Don’t call me that,” she said sharply. “You know I hate nicknames.”

“Lizette,” he began again, “maybe we could go somewhere and talk.”

“My suite?” she said, brightening.

He didn’t want to be alone with her. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.

He started to follow Lizette out of the stable, but before he emerged into the bright sunshine, he turned and narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Gray. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but stop it,” he said sternly, and at least the cat had the good grace to look surprised.

It was cool in the palm grove, and no one else was around. Hank was bored with Lizette’s nattering before they even reached the oasis hot pool.

“As I said, I have learned so much by being a life coach. It’s opened my eyes, Henry, to what a person can and should be. Take you, for instance. You have such potential. Why are you wasting it? You really should come back to the city.” They came to a bench, and Lizette sat down. “I can tell you exactly how I think you should approach your life at this point.”

Hank preferred to remain standing, so he rested one booted foot on the seat of the bench. When she realized that he wasn’t going to sit beside her, Lizette made a face at the dusty boot and scooted over a notch so she wouldn’t have to sit so close to it. She scowled up at him.

“Lizette,” he began, “I don’t need you to tell me how to run my life.”

“But—”

“No buts, Lizette.” He fixed her with a stern glare. “It happens that I like this life. I’m dedicated to giving my daughter the best possible childhood, and she is thriving here. She has her aunt and her baby-sitter and me.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m not planning to return to New York anytime soon.” He almost added, “If ever,” but decided against it at the last minute. He’d given Lizette quite enough to digest already.

“You have a job there,” she said. “You have a life.”

“Do I?” he said musingly. “Is rushing from one place to another a real life? Is flying all over the world on behalf of Rowbotham-Quigley enjoyable? Is my two-room apartment a real home? I don’t think so.”

Lizette looked bewildered. “You’re not the only one who lives like that in the city,” she said.

“Other people like it.”

“You might like it better if…well, I came here with the idea of suggesting that we move in together.”

“You and me and Kaylie?”

Her expression faltered. “You and I need time alone, Henry. Perhaps she could stay here with your sister while we settle in.”

He was aghast that she would expect him to give up Kaylie even for a while. “No, Lizette. Kaylie stays with me. And I wish you’d call me Hank.”

She sprang to her feet. “I’ll never be able to call you Hank. It’s a cowboy’s name. You’re not a cowboy. You’re a city dweller and an investment banker, and you have cosmopolitan tastes. Don’t tell me you’re going to give all that up for…for a little brat!” Her lips quivered in anger, and her fists clenched as though she could hardly refrain from punching someone, most likely him.

“I’m not going to tell you more than I already have,” he said quietly. “It’s over, Lizette.” He whirled and strode away.

She had called his beloved daughter a little brat. That was all the reason he needed to remove Lizette from his life forever.

ERICA TOOK a long, luxurious bath, sprayed herself with a flowery perfume from the atomizer on the vanity, then dressed slowly and with great care. Her outfit was a one-piece navy-blue silk jumpsuit, draped at the hips, slender in the legs so that it showed off her calves. The bodice had a low square neck, curved gently under her breasts. When she studied herself in the mirror and saw that she was all curves and no angles, that her hair was bouncy and her face appeared to be a perfect oval, she couldn’t help thrusting her fist in the air and yelling, “Yesss!”

She looked like what she wanted to be. She looked like someone a cowboy would desire.

For fun, she added big dangly earrings and a bunch of jingly silver bracelets she’d bought for herself when she’d selected a necklace for Charmaine in the gift shop earlier.

When Hank opened the door of his apartment, she thought he might greet her with a kiss on the cheek, but instead, he appeared with a baby on his hip and a cloth diaper arrayed across his shoulder. He looked harried but happy to see her.

“Come in,” he said, beaming. “Due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve barely begun feeding Kaylie.”

Kaylie grinned and emitted an unintelligible string of consonants. “I think she’s happy to see you,” Hank said as she entered.

Erica noticed that the living room was much as it had been earlier, but the kitchen was a mess. A baby-food jar sat open on the counter, and the sink was littered with baby bottles. “Sorry,” Hank said, looking apologetic. “I was in the process of cleaning up when Kaylie started to fuss. If you wouldn’t mind holding her, I’ll have things put away in a jiffy.”

Erica tried not to seem flustered when he transferred Kaylie into her arms, especially when the baby immediately reached for one of her earrings.

“Ow!” she started to say as she pried the little fingers away, managing only at the last minute to change the Ow! to an “I’ll take Kaylie into the living room so she can show me her toys.” If Hank noticed that she’d barely avoided screeching in pain, he gave no sign.

Feeling slightly more at ease with Kaylie this time than last, Erica carried her into the living room. “What do you like to play with?” she asked.

Kaylie said, as usual, “Babababa!”

“Translation—anything you want to give her,” Hank said from the kitchen door. He was drying one of Kaylie’s bottles with a dish towel, and it seemed incongruous to see him performing such a mundane task dressed as he was in a western-style white shirt with pearl snaps, jeans and boots. Her heart warmed to him, to his wholehearted attempt at domesticity.

“I’ll try the fuzzy koala bear,” she decided, swooping down and snagging it from the playpen, and at the motion, Kaylie whooped with glee.

“She liked that,” Hank said approvingly.

Erica swooped down again, and Kaylie giggled. Erica found that she quite liked getting a positive reaction from the baby; it gave her a sense of accomplishment that wasn’t so different from the times she garnered a positive reaction in, say, a business associate. And it was a lot more fun.

She sat on the edge of the couch with Kaylie in her lap and wound the key on the front of the koala bear. The bear began to play “Waltzing Matilda,” and Kaylie at first hid her face in the front of Erica’s jumpsuit before venturing a peek.

“Isn’t that a nice song?” Erica asked her, and Kaylie, braver now, reached for the koala.

“The koala bear is singing to you, Kaylie.”

Kaylie studied the key in the koala’s chest, poked at it with a finger, and made a face as the music slowed. In the kitchen, the refrigerator door opened and closed, and Hank said, “I’m going to fire up the grill out back, get those burgers going.”

“Fine,” Erica said. “Need some help?”

“You’re helping by keeping Kaylie occupied,” Hank said, appearing briefly in the doorway and favoring them with an easy grin.

Kaylie was crooning to the koala bear, and when Erica looked at her, she realized that Kaylie had drooled on the front of her silk jumpsuit.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, low enough so that Hank wouldn’t hear. She saw a box of tissues on the coffee table, pulled one out and blotted at the drool marks, which only succeeded in spreading the stain. As Kaylie threw the koala bear on the floor, where it landed with a thump and stopped playing music, Erica realized that all she could do was to let the mark dry and hope it wasn’t permanent.

Sighing, she bent over and picked up the koala bear, tossing it back into the playpen. She got up and found a round toy with a dial in the middle that played animal sounds when you twisted an arrow to point to a picture of the animal. That held Kaylie’s interest for about two minutes. Then for some reason she decided she didn’t like it anymore and began to whimper.

“Don’t cry,” Erica said, distressed that Kaylie wasn’t responding the way she thought she should. “I’ll sing you a song. What would you like to hear?” Not that her repertoire was so extensive these days, but she could probably summon up the words to something.

“Babababa!” Kaylie shrieked as she closed her fist around Erica’s other earring and tried to put it in her mouth.

This time Erica didn’t yelp. This time she anticipated the problem and very gently disentangled Kaylie’s fingers. “No, cutie. Definitely no.”

Kaylie regarded her with doubt, then reached for the earring again. “No.” This time Erica spoke more clearly and had the presence of mind to twirl the dial on the animal-sounds toy so that the sound of an oinking pig diverted Kaylie’s attention. She lunged for the toy.

“Listen, let’s try the cow.” Erica cranked the dial around until the sounds of a cow’s mooing filled the air.

Kaylie, a beatific grin on her face, looked enchanted. Erica felt inordinately pleased with herself for learning how to manage a baby, even for so short a period of time. Maybe she could get into babies, after all!

When Hank came in from slapping the burgers on the grill, it was to find Erica and Kaylie together on the couch. Kaylie was lying back in Erica’s arms, her binky in her mouth, her eyes growing heavy. Erica was singing to her. It wasn’t a lullabye. It was “America, the Beautiful.” But Kaylie didn’t seem to care.

Hank went over to the couch and gently lifted Kaylie into his arms. “I’ll put her in her crib. She’ll be asleep in no time.”

He took Kaylie into her nursery alcove and laid her carefully in the crib. She sighed, smiled at him around her pacifier and closed her eyes. Erica, watching from the doorway, seemed interested in the proceedings, and when he turned to leave the alcove, she had to move out of the way so he could pass.

In the living room, Erica grinned. “I don’t know much in the way of songs that would interest a baby. She seemed to like ‘America, the Beautiful,’ so I kept singing it over and over.”

He laughed, a quiet laugh so as not to wake Kaylie, and slid a companionable arm around Erica’s shoulders. “Thanks for looking after her. She can be a handful.”

Erica looked thoughtful. “Yes, I see that. Except you know what? I never knew that babies could be so much fun.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, to see if she meant what she said. Her eyes were glowing as if she’d made a wonderful discovery.

She slanted a look up at him as they came into the kitchen. “Those hamburgers smell mighty good.”

He removed his arm from around her shoulders and crossed to the refrigerator to take out tomatoes, lettuce and onions. “I hope you don’t mind cutting these up. You’ll find a plate in the cabinet, and I’ll be back inside when the meat’s done.”

He left her cutting up vegetables, and when he returned with the meat and buns, she was humming to herself and had arranged everything on the plate.

“I’m not much of a cook, but I make good hamburgers,” he said as he set them on the table.

“I’m not much of a cook, either,” she confessed.

“The omelette you whipped up this morning was delicious. I don’t know how to make one.”

“I’ll teach you if you’ll show me how to grill hamburgers.”

“Deal. So let’s eat these before they get cold.”

She wiped her hands on a towel, and he saw that she’d lined Kaylie’s bottles up neatly on one side of the sink. She’d also folded a bunch of dish towels and put away the coffeepot, which had been draining next to the sink.

He hadn’t pegged her for a homebody, but for some reason it cheered him immeasurably that she was showing signs of being one.

AFTER THEY ATE and cleaned up, Hank invited her to go with him to check on Kaylie. They stood in the alcove looking down at the baby, who was sleeping with her little rump in the air, her pacifier still in her mouth.

“She looks so angelic,” Erica said.

He moved closer to her, not touching but almost. She felt the hairs on her arm rise, felt every cell in her body go on alert.

“She can be an angel, but she can also be a problem. Fortunately she’s more of the former than the latter.”

Erica stood, wondering how long they would go on staring at Kaylie, wondering if she would wake up soon. If she did, Erica would probably make her excuses and go back to her suite. And if Kaylie didn’t wake up? What then?

“Let’s go back in the living room,” Hank said, and there was nothing in his tone to clue her in about what was going to happen next. They turned to go, and her shoulder brushed a wall hanging, which swung on its hook and made a slight rustling sound. Hank held his finger to his mouth and took her hand. His palm felt cool against hers.

In the living room, he turned slowly and slid his arms around her waist. “I don’t have anywhere fancy to take you. I can’t go back with you to your suite. But I don’t want you to leave, Erica.”

His chin came to rest on her forehead, and she smelled the clean outdoorsy leathery scent of him. His hand came up and cupped her chin. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” she breathed, taking in the strong, determined set of his jaw, the sensual curve of his lips, the raw yearning in his eyes.

“Come with me,” he said. He led her into the bedroom, and she was touched to see that he had found fresh flowers somewhere and put them in a tiny vase on the bedside table alongside the book she’d helped him choose from Justine’s library. He went to the dresser, found a match and lit a small candle, which cast the humble room in a golden glow.

He caught her expression and said sheepishly, “I wanted to make it as nice as I could.”

Erica swallowed, unable to look away. “It’s very nice.”

“Ah, Erica, so are you. I like the way you’ve taken to Kaylie. I like the way you pitch in when help is needed.” He pulled her close and kissed her, a gentle kiss that soon became more forceful. She felt the erratic beat of her heart, the weakening of her knees, as his kiss became wild and hard and demanding.

She was, finally, living her daydreams, the ones that always ended too soon. She curved her body to fit his contours, made it easy for him to touch her. His hands skimmed her ribs and came up to cup her breasts, which surged up out of her low neckline; his mouth feathered kisses down her jawbone. A low moan escaped his throat, and she arched backward so that he would find what he was looking for. He discovered the zipper and yanked it down so that her breasts tumbled out, and she shrugged out of the sleeves while he eased the fabric away to expose the rest of her. It puddled around her feet and she stepped out of it completely. Hank said shakily, “Oh, Erica, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

In the mirror over the dresser, she saw the two of them, saw the reverent expression on his face as he beheld her, and she thought dreamily that it was like looking at two people in a movie. She could hardly believe that she, Erica Strong, was that blond, sexy woman, or that Hank, a big strong cowboy, handsome enough that he could have any woman he wanted, actually wanted her. She blinked, looked again. They were still the two people in the mirror, and Hank had somehow managed to divest himself of his shirt. He caught her against him so that her breasts were crushed against his chest, and then he swung her up into his arms.

The next thing she knew, she was beside him on the bed, her hands on the buckle of his belt and unzipping his jeans. Soon he was lying on top of her, hard and strong and murmuring her name.

She offered him her lips, but it was her breasts he wanted. His mouth sought her nipples, kissed them each in turn. His tongue traced their contours, creating ripples of pleasure that sizzled right to her core. He drew out each sensation to its utmost, and she found herself moving her hips restlessly against his until he could no longer ignore her. He slid a hand around to cup her buttocks, drawing her closer, and his hardness was hot against her thighs. She wanted him, all of him, but he seemed determined not to rush.

“I—I’m ready,” she gasped, but he only chuckled deep in his throat.

“You only think you are,” he said gruffly, and then he proceeded with the most exquisite torture, tantalizing her with deep, heartfelt kisses, returning again to her breasts and then finding her lips again. She trembled beneath him, presented herself to him like a wanton woman, and still he didn’t take all of her.

She reveled in the taste of him, in the texture of his hair when she wove her fingers through it, and she felt a certain reckless greed as she moved her hands downward. He poised above her, his mouth moist against her throat, his breath hot and heavy. She shifted her head, caught his breath in a kiss, sighed into it as her blood pounded in her ears. Everything was hot, hot and wet, and her hips arched upward, guided him in.

Fiercely, joyfully, she rose to meet him, mate with him. She cried out, the sound muffled against his chest. She felt herself building to a peak, racing to the end, fighting to get there, all the sensation in her body swirling, merging, coalescing in one spinning, swirling explosion of feeling. And then she felt him convulsing, pouring into her, their bodies the instruments that brought them together at last.

He held her, his breath rough in her ear, his skin damp against hers.

“Oh, Erica,” he said helplessly. “Oh, my sweet, my darling.”

Her mind was beginning to untangle the words, to make sense of the fact that he had called her his darling, when the baby started to cry.