Cowboy Enchantment

chapter Eleven


Hank took Murphy back to the apartment with him after he said goodbye to Erica at the fork in the path, telling her he’d meet her at the oasis hot pool as soon as he could. Murphy galloped along beside him, tongue hanging out, ears perked.

“It’s good to get out once in a while, isn’t it, boy?”

For an answer, Murphy looked over his shoulder at him, and Hank could have sworn that he grinned in agreement.

“Ba?” Kaylie said, her sleepy head resting on his shoulder.

“Doggie, Kaylie. Can you say doggie?”

Kaylie’s eyelids drooped as she made an agreeable sound low in her throat.

Paloma’s small sedan was parked in the gravel parking area beside the stable. She was thumbing through a magazine when he walked into the apartment with Murphy at his heels.

“Hello, Hank. Let me take Kaylie. Hi, little one, how are you?” Murphy sniffed at her feet, waited for her to pet him, then continued on his self-appointed mission to smell every object in the apartment.

“She’s been better than last night. Did she act like her gums hurt today when you were with her?”

Paloma shook her head. “Not at all. It comes and goes, this teething, I know from taking care of my little nephew. Oh, Hank, I made brownies today. They’re on top of the microwave if you want some.”

“Nope, I had a big dinner and I’ve got a hot date.”

Paloma’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. “You have a date? Who is the lucky person?”

“Me,” he said, thinking of Erica and how her eyes shone when she looked at him.

“Ah, I see. You are in love. I can tell. It was that way with Miguel and me. We met and pow! Instant attraction. Then love. Now, we will soon have enough money for our wedding. We should make it a double wedding, perhaps? With you and your lady friend?”

“You’re way ahead of me, Paloma. There’s no wedding in the works, okay? And while you get Kaylie ready for bed, I’ll take Murphy out for a walk.”

“Okay, Hank. Hurry back before Kaylie falls asleep. It looks like it won’t be long.”

Hank let himself out of the apartment. Murphy seemed overjoyed at this chance to explore the stable and environs. He ran from stall to stall, greeting the horses before prancing back to Hank. Then he caught sight of the cats.

Mrs. Gray and her kittens were perched on top of a stack of boxes higher than Hank’s head. The three kittens merely spat and hissed, but Mrs. Gray, after a deprecatory appraisal of Murphy, stretched lazily and hopped down the series of boxes until she landed right in front of the dog. Murphy began to bark, and Mrs. Gray arched her back and hissed. Hank wished he had put Murphy on a leash, but it was too late now. Mrs. Gray, with what Hank swore was a derisive snort of laughter, took off like a streak of lightning out of the barn and across the corral. Murphy followed in hot pursuit.

“Great,” Hank said to Sebastian, who was nosing over the top of his stall door and looking on with interest. Hank glanced at his watch. It was almost nine-thirty, his appointed time to meet Erica.

He suspected that the cat had planned this all along. Sighing, he headed out of the stable, calling and whistling to Murphy in hopes that he’d come back. Sooner rather than later.

THE PALM GROVE was quiet, the way through the trees lit by low lights that cast golden circles on the path. An occasional breeze rustled the palm fronds, and Erica clutched her blue waffle-knit Rancho Encantado robe around her as protection against the chilly night air.

She made her way to the oasis hot pool, its rock-lined depths shadowed in the silvery moonlight. The pool was shaped like a figure eight, the hot water bubbling up naturally from the ground. There was no sign of Hank. She slipped out of the robe and stepped from the edge of the pool onto the underwater ledge that served as a seat.

“I thought you’d never get here,” said a throaty voice from the other end of the pool, and Erica blinked in surprise toward its source. Directly in front of her, revealed bit by bit as the diaphanous mists parted, was a female body, nude. Oh, it was nude, all right. The clear water didn’t hide a thing. The expanse of skin ended in a curly mop that frizzed outward from the scalp, and Erica realized with a jolt that the face atop the body belonged to Lizette. No more did she sport her sleek squared-off cut, which had certainly been more flattering than the hairdo she had now.

“Hello, Lizette,” Erica said, feeling her face freeze in a wary expression.

Lizette lounged at the far side of the pool, her breasts bobbing with the bubbles. She saw Erica glance at the sign that stated that guests were to remain clothed at all times, and she laughed again. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

Erica eased down into the water, trying to decide if she should leave. However, if she did, that would mean that Hank would show up for their rendezvous and find only Lizette. Allowing that to happen would be stupid.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Erica said, trying to sound as if Lizette’s presence was of no importance to her.

“I didn’t. But it may be a good time for a woman-to-woman talk, right?”

“I doubt that we need to talk at all, Lizette.” Erica bit the words off sharply.

“You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

“A crush?” The words didn’t begin to describe her feelings for Hank.

“A crush. As in head over heels. As in can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“Lizette, I don’t want to discuss this with you. Hank and I—”

“Oh, stop calling him Hank. His name is Henry. I’ve had it up to here with this Hank business.” Lizette looked even more petulant than she sounded.

“I’ll call him whatever I like. It’s no concern of yours.”

“Isn’t it? When we’ve been discussing moving in together?”

This stunned Erica so much that at first she couldn’t speak. But why should she believe anything Lizette said? She didn’t seem like Hank’s type, not to mention Hank had assured her that Lizette was history.

“I suppose he’s been romancing you,” Lizette said, splashing water on her face in an unconcerned way.

Erica blew out a long breath. “You could say that,” she said. At the same time she knew she didn’t want to discuss anything about her relationship with Hank with this woman.

“He’s good at it,” Lizette went on. “He’s also good at some other things, like what goes on in bed.”

Erica wanted to get up and leave, but Hank was due here any moment, and she wasn’t about to abdicate her position and leave him to the unclothed Lizette. Still, Lizette made her uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

“I suppose you already know how good he is in bed?” Lizette inquired sweetly, her tone goading.

Erica was still trying to figure out if she should respond to this when Hank walked out of the swirling mist. He was wearing bathing trunks and a T-shirt. “So what if she does?” he said angrily. “It’s no business of yours, Lizette.”

“Henry! I’ve been wanting to talk to you!”

“We’ve talked all we need to. You’d better leave, Lizette.” Hank shrugged out of his shirt and folded himself down into the pool beside Erica. He rested a hand on her thigh, claiming her.

“I’m a paying guest,” Lizette said. “I have a right to go wherever I want.”

Hank turned to Erica. “Would you like to leave?”

Her response was immediate. “No.” She wouldn’t give Lizette the satisfaction.

A few more seconds passed, and Erica could tell that Lizette was wavering.

“Henry, I think I’ll book you for a private riding lesson,” Lizette said. “I could teach you a few things.”

“I could teach you some things not connected with riding. Like class, for instance. And respect. And how to give up gracefully when it’s over.”

“In my Life Experiences class, we’ve discussed what to do about men who are afraid to commit. We—”

“Men are usually not afraid to commit. When it seems as if that’s the case, it means that they don’t want to commit. To you. But—” Erica thought she felt his fingers squeeze her thigh slightly “—a man might be perfectly ready and willing to commit to someone else.” His voice was firm, his manner brusque.

For the first time Lizette looked panicky. “After all we’ve meant to each other?”

The pool bubbled into the silence, and Erica held her breath.

She supposed that Lizette was taking the only avenue open to her at this point when she stood up, exposing her body to view before she grabbed her robe off a nearby rock. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped it around herself.

“Fine, Henry, but don’t come running to me when you’ve had enough of your little cowgirl there.” After treating them to one last view of her breasts, she yanked the robe closed and haughtily flounced off through the mist.

“Well,” said Hank, “that’s that. And that’s enough.” He removed his hand from Erica’s thigh and slid it around her shoulders.

She scooted over on the stone ledge where they sat, out of arm’s reach. “She told me that the two of you are thinking about living together.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I told her I wasn’t going to do that, and besides, I don’t like the way she talks about Kaylie. She called her a brat.”

“She did?”

“She did. And she’s never even seen Kaylie.”

He moved closer, reached under the water and took her hand. People walked past on the path, their voices low. When the voices faded, Hank entwined his fingers with hers. “I haven’t been able to think about much but you since this morning,” he said. “It’s like I’ve been enchanted or something.”

“Rancho Encantado,” Erica said unevenly. “Where dreams come true.”

“Where you can meet the woman you’ve always dreamed about.” His face was close now, and it was all she could do not to move hers a fraction of an inch so that her lips would meet his.

Her mouth was dry, and she’d begun to feel giddy. She swallowed and tried to move away, but he slid his free hand to the nape of her neck and held her there. “Kiss me, Erica. Kiss me the way you did last night and this morning.”

His breath was warm on her cheek, and she closed her eyes to shut him from her view. The image of his face was still on the back of her eyelids, as if engraved there. Her lips parted, and his moved slowly, agonizingly slowly, toward hers. Her eyes drifted closed again. And then she was kissing him. Kissing him as every cell in her body yearned for him, called to him, begged for more. Lips, tongue, teeth, creating such delectable sensations, such unparalleled pleasure. And then his arms came around her, pulled her close to his wet chest, his lips still working their magic as they feathered down her throat, kissed the hollow above her breasts and lingered there as his hands slid under her bikini top.

The water in the pool was hot, but her skin was beginning to feel hotter. She was burning from the inside out. She was consumed with wanting him, wanting to feel him close enough to guide him into her. With Hank kissing her and taking his time about it, she could anticipate all that was to happen between them tonight. His lips were skilled and they were sexy, and so was she. She blossomed under his touch, her nipples rose to meet his caressing fingertips, and he responded to her soft moan with a hot surge of need.

His hands went around to unhook her top so that her breasts were crushed against his chest, their skin slick and full of sensation. “These are the only breasts I cared to see tonight,” he said, and he dipped his head to kiss one rosy peak and then the other. “Yours is the only body in the world that means anything to me.”

She arched her back as he drew one nipple into his mouth and sucked gently, then greedily. Her head fell back, her eyes half-closed, and their surroundings—the palm trees and the rocks and the mist unfurling above the pool—seemed surreal.

Without knowing quite how it happened, she found herself facing him on the ledge, felt his hands move under her bikini bottom to cup her against him. Then he untied the side fastening and it floated away. She gasped, reached for it, but he only smiled at her. It may have been his fingers that undid her swimsuit, but it was that smile that undid her emotions. In that moment, the moment in which his eyes took on a gleam of amusement overlaid by passion, she knew she didn’t care who or what was watching. She wanted him now, not later, not in a bed or behind closed doors. This was the stuff of dreams, but her dreams had never before reached a level in which she actually cared about the man so much that she would throw all caution to the wind.

Now her emotions were not merely a mind game that she played with herself for amusement and escape. They were the driving force behind all she wanted, all she did. And what she did was reach for him so that he groaned and settled her closer. “If you’re going to touch me like that, lady, you’d better mean business,” he said close to her ear.

“Now,” she urged. “Now. Before anyone walks by.”

His fingers found her center, slid upward and in. Her skin shivered, and her back arched, waiting. She felt herself open to him even as he positioned himself, and then finally, when an instant seemed like an eternity, he drove into her in one long, shuddering stroke.

She gripped his hair, clamped her legs around him and rode. She was prepared for a quick climax, wanted it, but he seemed determined to draw it out, to make it last.

“Hurry!” she whispered.

He threaded his hands through her hair and pulled back her head to expose her throat. “Not a chance,” he said between kisses. “Not when I’ve been waiting for you all day long.”

Then, moving excruciatingly slowly, he teased her into delirium, into ecstasy, until she cried out for mercy.

“For someone who doesn’t want anyone to know we’re here, you sure are making a lot of noise,” he said.

“Hank, please,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I’ll please you, darlin’, have no fear,” he said. Then, in a ripple of movement, he turned her so that she was lying back on the ledge, the smooth surface firm against her back. He rose above her, almost like a phantom in the mist, and then before she could pull him to her, he plunged into her so that she cried out in surprise.

And then she wondered how she could have lived all of her life without knowing what sex, real sex, was like. It had never been like this. It had never been so passionate, never engaged her body, mind and soul, and it had never been with a rugged cowboy who knew how to bring her to these heights. The planes of his face were pressed to hers, the angles of his body complemented the curves of hers, and their hearts throbbed to the same rhythm.

As they raced together toward the moon, she spun away on the ripples of the pool, was drawn into the ribbons of moonlight, became one with the silvery mist. She became satin, she became silk, she became the moon mirrored in his eyes. She inhaled his breath, rose on its life force to spiral into a place she had never gone before, and she was going there with him, Hank, her perfect cowboy.

She thought she might have cried his name, didn’t care if anyone heard, and in that moment she knew she was one with the universe and that Hank was the universe for her now, in this moment.

And then, before she could drift down from that wonderful place, she felt her muscles clamp and convulse, felt his shudder at the core of her being and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to overflow.

Tears of happiness. And tears of sadness that it had taken her so long to find this man.

ERICA OPENED her laptop. Time to write to her sister.


Hi Char

Did I ever tell you about my fantasies of the perfect cowboy? Well, I’ve found him.

Love,

Erica

Erica,

A man who already has a baby isn’t perfect by any means. A baby takes a lot of time and work. A baby gets in the way of a developing relationship. A baby is, well, a baby. You don’t do babies, remember?

It sounds like you’ve taken leave of your senses. Isn’t it time for you to fly back to New York?

Your devoted sister who is beginning to wish that she’d never mentioned Rancho Encantado, Charmaine

To my devoted sister,

Char, I really like this baby. Also, Kaylie has not stood in the way of our developing relationship. If anything, she has enhanced it by making me notice what a fine person Hank is.

Besides, I’ve really got the hots for this guy.

But enough talk. I’m going to sleep. It’s late, and I’m going to his place to cook breakfast for him early tomorrow morning. I think I can manage fried eggs. Can seven-month-old babies eat fried eggs, do you know?

Love from your grateful sister, who can’t imagine never having visited Rancho Encantado,

Erica

Erica

YOU MUST HAVE LOST YOUR ALLEGED MIND! YOU DON’T LIKE BABIES AND YOU HATE TO COOK. FIXING BREAKFAST EARLY IN THE MORNING? SHEESH! I KNOW YOU WENT THERE TO GET A MAKEOVER, BUT THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE YOUR BRAIN ALONE.

CALL ME, ERICA. CALL ME RIGHT NOW. I MEAN IT.

Charmaine