The Texan's One-Night Standoff

“I figured.”

She whirled around. “You think you’ve got my number, Galahad?”

“Maybe. I know you don’t do this.”

Her bright laughter ended with an unfeminine snort. “You’d like to believe that, right?”

“I do believe it. So, why me?”

She glanced out the window again, gazing into the darkness. “Maybe I like you. Maybe it’s because you came to my rescue—”

“Which you didn’t need.”

She continued, “You came to my rescue with no thought of the danger to your own hide.”

He took a step toward her. “Are you saying I couldn’t take that guy?”

“Hold on to your ego. I’m only saying that you’re the one I want to be with tonight. Can’t we leave it at that?”

He nodded and inclined his head toward the door. “We were about to combust out there. That’s never happened to me before.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t like losing control and decided to slow down the pace?”

“What I’m saying is, you deserve better than that.”

She smiled, and the natural sway of her body as she walked toward him fueled his juices. “There, you see? Things like that are exactly what a girl wants to hear. So, what did you have in mind?”

Her scent filled him up, and the shimmering sheet of dark, straight hair falling off her shoulders gave him pause—was he crazy to slow things down?

Her eyes were on him, warm and soft and patient.

“A drink, for starters?”

Another survey of the room had her gaze landing on the amber bottle of whiskey he’d brought from Chicago sitting on the bedside table. “Okay.”

He grabbed two tumblers and poured the whiskey. The very best stuff. He’d figured he would need some fortification before meeting his biological father, but he’d never thought he would entertain a lady with it.

Standing before her, he offered her a glass. “Here you go.”

She eyed the golden liquid. “Thanks. What should we drink to?”

“To unexpected meetings?”

She smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t say ‘to new beginnings.’”

He wouldn’t. He wasn’t in the market for a lover or a girlfriend. And apparently, Miss Ruby—he didn’t know her last name—wasn’t looking for a relationship, either. She’d dropped enough hints about that tonight. Somebody must’ve hurt her along the way, but Brooks couldn’t delve too deeply into her past. He wouldn’t want anyone prying into his, and tonight was all about the present, not the past or the future.

He touched his glass to hers, and a definitive clink sounded in the room. “To unexpected pleasant meetings.”

She gave him a brief nod and then took a sip, taking time to relish the taste before swallowing. “This is pretty amazing stuff. It surely didn’t come out of any minibar.”

He was surprised she would notice the quality. “Are you a whiskey expert?”

“Let’s just say I know good whiskey when I taste it.”

She took a seat on the bed and continued to sip. He sat beside her, enjoying her quiet company. His heart was still racing, but he was glad he’d toned things down some. She wasn’t a woman to be rushed. And he wanted to savor her tonight, in the same way she was savoring her whiskey.

“Tell me,” she said, “aren’t you afraid that I’ll come to my senses and walk out on you?”

“I don’t think you’re a flight risk, Ruby. So, no. But if you think better of this, I would respect your decision. When I make love to you, I want you to be sure and all in.”

She smiled, and her eyes drifted down to the amber liquid in her glass. “You don’t mince words.”

“You don’t, either.”

She nodded, and her soft gaze met his stare. He reached out to touch her face with a sole finger to her cheek. She gasped, and a warm light flickered in her eyes.

“What do you want, Ruby?”

“Just a night,” she whispered, breathy and guileless. “With you.”

He sensed she needed it as much as he did. To have one night with her before his life would change forever.

Taking the glass from her and setting both of their drinks down on the nightstand, he cupped her face with his hands and gazed into her eyes. “One night, then.”

“Yes,” she said. “One night.”

And then he pulled her up to a standing position so they were toe-to-toe, her face lifting to his. He peered into warm, dark eyes giving him approval and then slowly lowered his head, his mouth laying claim to hers.

Their night together was just beginning.

Two

Brooks’s touch was like a jolt of electricity running the course of her body. One touch, one simple finger to her cheek, one slight meshing of his whiskey-flavored lips with hers, was giving her amnesia about the other men in her life. Men who’d trampled on her heart. Men like Trace, who’d taken from her and hadn’t given back. Trace, the man she’d waited for all these months. She squeezed that notion from her mind.

Her time to wait was over.

Brooks’s giving and patient mouth didn’t demand. Instead, he encouraged her to partake and enjoy. She liked that about this man. He wasn’t a player of women. No, her gladiator and presumptive keeper of her virtue was a man of honor. He didn’t take. He gave. And that’s exactly why she’d decided to come to his room tonight.

She placed her trust in him.

He wasn’t asking her to bare her soul. But she would bare her body. For him.

Her fingers nimbly played with the tiny white buttons on her blouse until the material slipped from her shoulders, trapping her arms. Cool night air grazed her exposed skin.

Brooks’s sharp intake of breath reached her ears. “You’re unbelievably beautiful.”

He worked the sleeves of her blouse down her arms until they gathered at her wrists. He held her there, mercilessly tugging her closer until her bra brushed his torso. “Yeah, I like you in red.” He stroked her hair and then snapped the silky strap of her bra.

“It’s my color,” she whispered, and he smiled.

“I won’t disagree.”

He nipped at her lips then, several times, until his mouth claimed hers again. The kiss swept her into another world, where the only thing that mattered, all that she felt, was the pleasure he was giving. His tongue plunged in and met hers in a sparring match that ignited a fiery inferno within her. Whimpering, she ached for his touch. Finally his fingers dipped inside her bra to caress her nipples. Everything unfolded from there—the pleasure too great, the sighs too loud, the hunger too strong.

He worked magic with his mouth while his hands found the fastener of her bra. Within seconds, and none too soon, she was free of her blouse and restraints. Her breasts spilled out into his awaiting hands, and the small ache at her core began to pulse as he touched, fondled and caressed her. She was pinned to the spot, unwilling to move, unwilling to take a step, his invisible hold on her body too strong. Her nipples stood erect and tightened to pebble hardness. Aching for more, she leaned way back and was granted the very tip of his tongue dampening her with moisture.

“Oh, so good, Brooks.”

His outstretched palms bracing the small of her back, he answered only with a low guttural groan.

And once he was through ravaging her, he brought her up to eye level, drinking her in from top to bottom. Shaking his head, he fixed his gaze on the full measure of her breasts. She had a large bust for a petite woman and this time she didn’t mind having a man’s eyes transfixed on her. “I can’t believe you,” he muttered. “You’re not real.”

The compliment went straight to her head.

Brooks was a city dude, a man who didn’t fit in her world, yet here she was, nearly naked with him and enjoying every sensual second of it.

“I’m very real,” she breathed, closing the gap between them and lacing her arms around his neck. His erection stood like a stout monument, and there was no missing it. “And I want more.”

“Whatever the lady wants,” he said, running his hands up and down the sides of her body, his fingertips grazing the sides of her breasts. Another round of heat pinged her as anticipation grew.

He turned her around, came up behind her and slowly grazed the waistband of her jeans with his hands. His powerful arms locked her in, and his mouth was doing a number on her throat while his long fingers nudged her sweet spot. She murmured her approval, and lights flashed before her eyes. He stroked between her thighs, and a cry ripped from her throat. And then he was pulling the zipper of her jeans down, slowly, torturously, his erection behind her, a thrilling reminder of what was to come.

“Kick off your boots,” he whispered in her ear.

Goose bumps erupted on her arms.

Her legs were a mass of jelly.

She kicked her boots off obediently, and then his index fingers were inside her waistband, gently lowering the jeans down her legs. She stepped out of them easily. “Red lace panties,” he murmured appreciatively. He cupped one cheek, fitting her left buttock in his palm. He stroked her, smoothing his hand up and over, up and over. “Oh, man,” he muttered, the heat of his body bathing her.

From where she stood with her back against his chest, she felt his body shudder. Quickly she turned around. The room was dimly lit with a sole lamp, and they were cast in shadow, but there was enough light to see a deep, burning hunger in his eyes.

“Lie down on the bed,” he told her.

Her heart was pounding like a drum, beating hard, beating fast. He was a man who took control. She wasn’t one to obey so easily, but there was a look in his eyes telling her to trust him. She did as she was told and lay on the queen bed, naked but for the panties she wore.

His gaze roamed over her body, slowly, the gleam in his eyes filled with promise.

“Galahad?”

“Hmm?”

“Having second thoughts?”

He laughed at her, giving his head a shake. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea...”

“What?”

“...how turned on I am. I’m trying to keep from jumping your bones, Ruby.”

She glanced at the flagpole erection bulging in his pants. “What if I want you to jump my bones? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, but... I want this night to last.”

She rolled to the side and leaned on her elbow. His eyes sought the spill of her hair touching her breasts. “Come to bed, Brooks. I’m a big girl. I can take whatever you have in mind.”

“Doubtful, honey. What I’m thinking...”

She grabbed his hand and tugged. He landed on his butt in an upright position on the bed. “Do it, Brooks. But first take off your clothes.”

He grinned. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Judging by the cut of your cloth, you were probably born lucky.” She was guessing.

He grunted. And that was all the reply he gave her.

Sitting up on her knees, she helped him lift his shirt over his head and pull off his boots between kisses. Her hands sought his chest, all powerful and rippled with muscle, smooth and hard, like the planes of a solid board. She reveled in touching him, her fingertips toying with his flattened nipples.

That move landed her on her back, her arms locked by one strong hand above her head. “Two can tease,” he said.

And then he was pulling her panties down and touching her where she’d prayed he’d touch. Her body instantly responded, and soft moans rose from her throat. She undulated with each stroke of his hand, each caress of a fingertip. He kept her pinned down, covering her with his body, the soft flesh of his palm applying pressure at the apex of her thighs.

“I’m... I’m going to lose it,” she moaned, the pleasure unbearable.

“Don’t fight it, honey,” he rasped.

And then she shattered, and spasms wracked her lower body in beautiful jolts that electrified her body. Her hips were arched, and she didn’t remember how they got that way. Slowly she lowered herself and finally opened her eyes to swim in Brooks’s deep blue gaze. He watched her carefully, a satisfied smile on his lips as he unzipped his pants and removed them.

“Your turn,” she said.

He shook his head. “Our turn.”

And then he fitted a condom on his erection and moved back over her.

His hands molded her breasts. His kiss went deep, his tongue delicious and probing. “Tell me when you’re ready, sweetheart,” he murmured before kissing her again.

She ran her hands through his longish blond hair, her fingers curling around the locks at the back of his neck. Then her gaze drifted to his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be more ready.”

He made a caveman sound, raw and brash, and then braced her in a protective way to roll them over on the bed. She found herself on top of him. “Set the pace, Ruby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She bit the corner of her lip. Sure, she was petite, but Galahad worried that he was too big for her small frame. She could actually fall for a guy like this. She gave him a nod and straddled his thighs. “You won’t hurt me,” she said, fitting herself over his shaft, tossing her head back and shuddering from the feel of him inside her.

Then she began to move.

* * *

Spooned against Brooks’s large frame, with his arm resting possessively around her torso, Ruby slowly opened her eyes. It was past midnight and she’d promised Brooks she’d stay the night with him. She didn’t doubt her decision but instead smiled as he snuggled her closer and brought his hand to rest just under her breast.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

“Just,” she answered. “I dozed.”

“Me, too. I haven’t been this relaxed in a long time.”

“Had a lot on your mind lately?” she murmured.

“You have no idea. But I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

His hand made lazy circles around her breast, his fingers feathery light over her nipple. Her body heated instantly. He had the ability to make her yearn, and the longing was potent. His leg moved over both of hers, and she was locked to him now, the soft flesh of her thighs meeting with legs of steel.

“I don’t want to talk at all,” he said, fisting her hair and planting kisses at the back of her neck. “Do you?”

“No.” Oh God, what he was doing to her? Her body flamed. She was going up in smoke. “Talking is overrated. Not when we could be doing better things.”

Ruby had never given herself so freely before. She’d never really been the bad girl, and everyone who knew her well knew that for a fact. She’d had only three relationships in her twenty-six years, and only the last one had really meant anything to her. The last one had hurt her.

She’d been in love.

Or so she’d thought.

But tonight with Brooks was different. It was all about having a man appreciate her. Give to her. Excite her and make her feel like a woman.

He rolled over on top of her, careful of her small frame, his hands bracing the bed on both sides of her head. She gazed into his deep blue eyes. “I want you again, Ruby.”

Ruby smiled. “I want you, too.”

He nodded and let go of a deep breath. “I was praying you’d say that, honey.”

He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. Already the taste of him, the firmness of his lips, seemed familiar and welcome. She’d never see him again. She wasn’t in the market for a man. But Brooks would leave her with a good memory.

And then his mouth moved from her lips down her chest toward her navel, streaming kisses along the way. Her hips lifted; she was eager and willing, waiting. She didn’t have to wait long. He touched his tongue to her center and suckled her sweetest spot. She whimpered and moved wildly as his mouth performed magic. It was a torturous, beautiful few minutes of pleasure. And when she was on the brink, ready for a powerful release, he rose over her and joined their bodies. Oh...it was bliss, the best of the best as he moved inside her. And then, moments later, his eyes darkened, his body stiffened and every sensation between them intensified. He moaned her name, an utterance of pleasured pain, and then he broke apart at the seams. It was enough to turn her inside out, and she, too, shuddered with an incredible release.

“Wow,” she said once her breathing returned to normal.

“Yeah, wow,” he said, keeping her close. He kissed her forehead, stroked her hair and tucked her body into his.

She closed her eyes and waited for the exquisite hum of her body to ease her into sleep.

* * *

Brooks tiptoed back into the room, holding two cups of coffee and a white paper bag filled with muffins and buttered biscuits from the café at the inn. There wasn’t a croissant to be had in this hokey Texas town, and he liked that about this place. Clean, simple and... He glanced at Ruby asleep in the bed, her hair smooth black granite against the pillow. Beautiful. Yep, Cool Springs left him with a good impression.

The mattress groaned as he sat down.

“Is that coffee I smell?” a soft, sultry voice whispered from the other end of the bed.

“Can’t fool you,” he said, turning to find Ruby coming to a sitting position. “Leaded and dark as mud.” Apparently that’s how they made coffee in Texas. He showed her the two cups.

“I think I love you,” she said, reaching for one. She’d worn one of his shirts to bed. The thing hung down to her knees and covered most of her up, but she still looked sexy as sin.

Her lips pursed as she blew on the rising steam.

He shook his head and talked down his lust. “Got biscuits, too, all buttered up, with honey.”

“I adore you even more,” she said. He handed her one and she wasted no time. She took a big bite, chewed with gusto and then took another bite.

“You’ve got an appetite.”

“I had a busy day and night.”

He joined in, sipping coffee and digging into the biscuits. “Maybe I should’ve taken you out for a nice big breakfast.”

She shook her head. “This is perfect,” she said, reaching for the bag from his hand. “What kind of muffins did you get?”

“Banana and blueberry. So, you wouldn’t want to go out for breakfast with me?”

She chose blueberry. “It’s nothing personal, but showing up somewhere public at this hour will cause talk. You know what they say about small towns. All of it is true. And you don’t owe me anything, but I appreciate your gallantry.”

“Just call me Galahad.”

“I do.” She laughed before putting her teeth into the muffin.

He laughed, too, and was sorry he had to leave Ruby behind. She wasn’t like most females he’d met, and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to put up a fuss about saying goodbye.

He wasn’t entirely sure he liked that idea, but he had a new life waiting for him. His emotions were keyed up, and he was too damn confused to add a woman to the mix.

They drank coffee and chatted quietly about nothing in particular. And after they’d taken their last sips, Brooks rose from the bed and began packing his belongings. “Sorry, but I have to hit the road soon. I have an important meeting.”

Ruby rose from the bed and padded over to him. “Brooks,” she said.

“Hmm?”

She stood before him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t forget your shirt.”

Slowly she began undoing the buttons, her nimble fingers working one after another. Once done, she shrugged out of the shirt, and it fell easily to her feet. His gaze fastened on a beautiful body in red lace. “Ruby,” he said, sucking in oxygen and pulling her into his arms, her skin smooth and her muscles toned under his fingertips. “I wish I could postpone my meeting.”

“No problem.” Her eyes were soft and warm. He was never going to forget that particular deep cocoa color. Who was he kidding? He was never going to forget her. That was for damn sure. “I’ve got a busy day myself. I’ll take a shower. You’ll probably be gone by the time I get out.”

Like a fool, he nodded. That was the plan. He had to leave. Now.

He claimed her lips one last time, putting all of himself into that kiss. Then, mustering every ounce of his willpower, he turned away from her. But a thought struck, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a business card. “In case,” he said with a lift of his shoulder, “I don’t know, if you want to talk. Or need me or something.” He set the card on the bedside table.

By the time he turned back around, she had disappeared into the bathroom.

“Goodbye, Brooks,” she said just as the door was closing.

The lock clicked.

He closed his eyes. It was time to get on with the rest of his life.

Three

Brooks pulled into the gates of Look Away Ranch, his gaze drawn to the size and scope of Beau Preston’s horse farm. The animals grazing freely in white-fenced meadowlands had a majestic presence. They were tall, their coats gleaming in browns and blacks and golds. Brooks didn’t know much about horses, but even an amateur could tell by looking at them that these stallions, mares and geldings were top-notch.

He smiled at the notion that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. If what he’d been told by Roman Slater, the PI he’d hired to find his biological father, was true, then Brooks’s drive to succeed above all else must’ve been in his blood. Because Look Away Ranch had all the makings of hard-earned success, much like his very own Newport Corporation.

He, Graham and Carson had worked their asses off for years in order to create one of the leading real estate and land development companies in the country. He was proud of what they’d accomplished, coming up the real estate ranks in Chicago and becoming genuine competitors of Sutton Winchester’s Elite Industries. Winchester was their biggest rival both professionally and privately. And Brooks had done his very best to take the ruthless older man down, more for personal reasons than professional.

For a time, Brooks had believed that the now ailing Sutton fathered him and his twin brother Graham. The knowledge only fueled his desire to destroy the man he believed abandoned his mother in her time of need, when she was pregnant. It turned out none of that was true. But paternity tests had revealed that his baby brother, Carson, was indeed Sutton Winchester’s biological child. Sutton and his late mother, Cynthia, had history together. She’d been his secretary once, and they’d had a love affair.

He hoped his true father, Beau, would fill in the rest of the blanks. After years of wondering and months now of tracking the man down, Brooks was ready to meet the man who’d fathered him.

He pulled up into the portico-covered drive that circled the stately ranch house and killed the engine. A man was waiting on the steps. Brooks’s first glimpse was of a tall rancher, his hair once blond and now dusted with silver, dressed in crisp jeans and a snap-down Western shirt. He immediately approached, marching down the steps, his gait extremely similar to his twin brother’s and probably Brooks’s as well. Warmth swamped his chest.

He was out of the car quickly, walking toward the man whose blood flowed through his veins. They came face-to-face, and Brooks took in the blue eyes, the firm jaw and the hint of a wicked smile bracing the man’s mouth. “Beau?”

Tears welled in the man’s eyes. His lips quivered and he nodded. “Yes, son. I’m Beau Preston. I’m your father.”

His father’s legs wobbled, and Brooks grabbed his shoulders to steady him. As emotion rocked him, Brooks’s own legs went numb, too. Then his father broke down, sobbing quietly and taking Brooks into his big, sturdy arms as he would a little boy. “Welcome, son. Welcome. I’ve been searching for you for a long time.”

A few seconds later, Beau backed away, wiping at his tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy, boy. Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Brooks said.

They walked shoulder to shoulder into the house.

“Forgive me for not showing you around just yet,” Beau said.

“I understand. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

But Brooks noticed things about the rooms he walked through, the sturdy, steady surroundings, dark wood floors polished to a mirror shine, bulky wood beams above and wide-paned windows letting the outside in. The wood tones were brightened by the red blooms of poinsettia plants placed in several of the rooms, and his nostrils filled with the holiday scent of pine.