She froze, realizing he was gawking at her. “What?”
“That’s a much better outfit than the one you had on the last time you were down here.”
“The last time I was down here I wasn’t expecting to ride,” she retorted.
“Coulda fooled me by the way you rode my ass,” he muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothin’.” He pointed to the horse he’d picked for her. “That’s yours.”
“He looks mean.”
“She,” Renner corrected, “is about twenty years old and is almost as gentle as the horse I chose for Marisol. She’s used to bein’ the pack leader, so that means you’ll be on the trail first.”
Tierney approached the horse on the left side and patted her neck. “What’s her name?”
“Billie Jo.”
Marisol shouted, “Hey, Mr. Cowboy, sir, here I am!”
He looked at her and grinned. Not only was Marisol wearing a straw cowboy hat, and her brand-new red cowgirl boots; she’d donned a pair of pink chaps with silver fringe. “Well, lookit you. You sure are cowgirl material, little lady.”
She giggled and ran to hug Tierney. “Are you coming with us?”
“Yes sirree, Bob.”
“Yay!” She giggled again. “But my name’s not Bob.”
“Right. Your name rhymes with . . . something to do with rain.” Tierney snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. Umbrella. Your name is Cruella!”
“No.”
“Druzilla?”
“No. It’s Marisol.”
“Marisol . . . Rhymes with parasol. Now I remember.”
“I see you two have met.”
“Uh-huh. Miz Tierney has been coloring pictures with me in the dining room after lunch.”
Renner quirked an eyebrow at Tierney. She took time out of her day to color with a lonely little girl? That was unexpected. And more than a little sweet.
Then Marisol spied the horse and her eyes went as big as pie plates. “Is that my pony?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is her name Starfire?”
Jesus. “No. Her name is Pumpkin.”
“ ’Cause she’s really orange, huh?”
“That’d be my guess.”
Marisol’s gaze zoomed back to Tierney. “How come you didn’t tell me you’re a real cowgirl?”
“Because I’m not a cowgirl.”
“What are you?”
Tierney sighed. “You know, that’s what I’m in Wyoming to figure out.”
Renner frowned. What did that mean?
Joelle put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “You sure she’ll be safe?”
“Pumpkin is an even-tempered horse. Since it’s Marisol’s first time in the saddle we’ll only be gone an hour.”
“See ya, Mom!”
“Hang on. I want to get some pictures.”
Renner boosted Marisol on her horse and held the reins while pictures were snapped. Millions of pictures. Finally he said, “We gotta go. We’re losin’ daylight.”
After they mounted up, Renner went through the basic instructions of reining. He told Tierney to head for the main road. As soon as they were walking the horses three abreast on the gravel road, Marisol started asking questions.
Were he and Tierney married?
Why not?
Did they have a dog?
Why not?
Did they ride horses every day?
Why not?
Why didn’t Tierney wear a cowgirl hat?
Why was Renner’s cowboy hat black?
Why couldn’t she make her horse—which she’d insisted on calling Starfire—go faster?
On and on.
Renner sidled up to Tierney and said in a low voice, “I think I know the source of Marisol’s mother’s migraine.”
Tierney gave him a stern look, but he saw her amusement beneath it. He also knew she was having more fun on the trail ride than she’d admit.
He also realized they hadn’t argued once.
Tierney volunteered to take Marisol back to her mother, leaving him to finish chores before dark.
The Mackenzie family opted to take supper in their room since they were the only guests. Renner could’ve gone to bed early, but he’d built a fire and was relaxing when he heard the office door open. He glanced at the mantel. Nine o’clock. Seemed Tierney had been working late again.
She descended the stairs and wandered to the fireplace to warm her hands. “Quiet night.” She half turned, taking in his sprawled posture on the couch. “You look comfy.”
He shrugged. “Thought I’d stick around until the embers died down.”
“Watching out for the safety of the guests, are you?”
“Hell no. The lodge is a lot nicer than my trailer. There’s just something about sittin’ in front of a fire at the end of the day that speaks to me. Clears my head. If you ain’t in a hurry, pull up a chair.” He expected she’d decline. But to his surprise, she eased down on the sofa next to him. Eased being the word. He looked at her sharply. “You sore from ridin’ today?”
Her cheeks flooded with color. “Yes. My inner thighs are screaming. And I won’t go into detail about how my butt feels.”
I wish you would. I could feel it for you, if you want a second opinion.
The flames crackled. Tierney’s head fell back on the cushions and she sighed. “This is nice. Really nice. Know what would make it perfect?”
If we were rolling around nekkid in front of the fire?
He cleared his libido from his throat. “What?”
“If I had a glass of wine. But the thought of getting up and walking to the bar? I believe my legs might revolt and let me fall on my face just to remind me who’s in charge.”
Renner laughed. “You really do have a strange sense of humor sometimes, Tierney. I like it.”
“You’d be the only one.”
“I’ll admit my tastes have always been . . . eclectic.”
“What eclectic trait attracted you to your first wife?” Right after she said it, she said, “Sorry. That is none of my business.”
So she was curious about his marital past. He’d wondered. “I don’t mind. My first wife had no sense of humor at all.”
“Why did you marry her?”
Money. “She had other attributes I believed would make up for it. Turns out I was wrong.”
“How old were you when you married her?”
“Nineteen.”
“That’s awful young.”
“Yeah, well, we thought we were in love and all that bullshit and her daddy didn’t want us living together, so we snuck off and got hitched.”
“How long were you married?”
“About eighteen months. But man, did it seem like eighteen years.”
“And the second time?” she asked.
“About eighteen minutes.”
Tierney looked at him with shock. “Seriously?”
He hated telling this story. Made him look like a dumbass. “Actually it was about eighteen days. I was in Vegas, helping with my buddy’s stock for the AFR, and a bunch of us found a strip club off Fremont Street. The first night I met a stripper who had a thing for cowboys. I was flattered as hell because she was ten kinds of gorgeous and about ten levels outta my league. She gave me the impression she wanted to ditch the stripper lifestyle and settle down. So late one night, a week after we met, after way too many shots of Patron, I married her at some tacky Vegas chapel. I should’ve known she wasn’t serious when she didn’t immediately quit her stripping job. The finals ended and I was ready to go home. She didn’t understand I had no intention of living in Vegas and I expected she’d move to Kansas with me.” He chuckled. “She couldn’t get to the courthouse to file the divorce papers fast enough.”
“I’ve never met anyone who has a real-life ‘what happens in Vegas’ story.”
“Which is why I avoid sin city whenever possible.”
“Because you were madly in love with a stripp
er with a heart of gold who broke your little Midwestern heart?”
Renner bumped her knee with his. “No, smart-ass. I didn’t love Kandy.”
“Kandy?” Tierney snickered. “Her name was Kandy? Please tell me her last name wasn’t Cane.”
“It was Kandy Land, which ain’t much better,” he said dryly. “And now that you’ve had a good laugh at my expense, I fully expect you’ll regale me about your dates with the Winstons, Harringtons, and other blue bloods you rub elbows with in the Windy City.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but my dating tales are woefully inadequate compared to yours. To anyone’s actually. I’m not much of a dater.” Tierney sat up. “I’d better start walking.”
Renner put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her retreat. “Hey. What did I say?”
“Nothing. I just realized how late it is.”
“Bullshit. You’re runnin’ from this conversation. And darlin’, whatever is in your past can’t be half as bad as getting hitched to a stripper named Kandy Land, for Christsake.”
She laughed softly. “That’s true.”
He slipped his hand up her arm. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t have any crazy stories like yours. I’ve been all over the place, but it’s always for a business-related trip. I’m all work and no play. I’m boring. God. It’s embarrassing. I wish I had an ex-stripper in my life because that’d indicate I’d actually lived my life instead of just stumbling through it.”
“Tierney—”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Renner. I couldn’t stand it.”
“You know what I can’t stand? The fact I’ve been feelin’ sorry for myself because I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you all damn day.”
Tierney blinked at him distrustfully.
He moved in and cupped his hands around her face. “I’ve wanted to kiss you again since that night I kissed you at Buckeye Joe’s.”
She went very still. Watchful. Silent.
“Well? Aren’t you gonna tell me I can kiss your ass? Tell me I’m not your type?”
“You aren’t my type. But I’m beginning to think that’s not such a bad thing.” She angled her head to press her mouth to the inside of his wrist.
That innocent kiss was far sexier than it had a right to be. Before he could smother her lips with his, Tierney crawled onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Blowing his mind with a kiss packed with raging desire and sweet heat.
At first he was so stunned he didn’t touch her at all. Then he was tempted to touch her everywhere at once. So he settled for curling his hands around her hips, letting his thumbs sweep the bared section of skin above the waistband of her pants.
The initial burst of passion or whatever had led Tierney to make the first move, ebbed, and the kiss slowed. Sweetened. She gave him a lingering smooch, resting her forehead to his.
He managed a husky, “What?”
“I really should’ve taken my glasses off first.”
“Keep kissin’ me like that, I promise to clean the smudges and steam when we’re done,” he offered.
She slid her hands to his shoulders. “Even when a spoiled daddy’s girl isn’t your type?”
“I’m beginning to think that ain’t such a bad thing.” Renner bent forward to place an openmouthed kiss on the side of her neck. “I wish you’d forget I ever said that.”
“Keep kissing me like that and I’ll probably forget my own name.”
He paused. “Speaking of names . . . how did you end up with a name like Tierney?”
“Like Renner is common,” she pointed out.
“Renner was my granddad’s mother’s maiden name. Now spill it.”
She fiddled with the top button on his shirt. “Because my father’s name is Gene and my mother’s name was Jean, they had this brilliant idea to pass the ‘Gene and Jean’ theme along to their offspring. So they named me Tierney, after Gene Tierney, and my sister Harlow, after Jean Harlow.”
“That is kinda wacky. But the name suits you perfectly.”
Her nose wrinkled. “How’s that?”
“Gene Tierney was a smart-mouthed, dark-haired bombshell. You’re just like her.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” Renner teased her neck with soft-lipped kisses. Her sexy little moan instantly made him hard. “I want you.”
He felt her smile against his cheek. “You do have a certain economy of words, Renner.”
“And I’m hopin’ to get a firsthand demonstration of your other oral skills, Tierney.” He brushed his mouth across the shell of her ear until she shivered in his arms. “Soon.”
“Soon enough, but not tonight.”
He sighed. “Damn. I’d rather you were sore from ridin’ me, not a horse.”
“I’m sure you’ll live.” She kissed the tip of his nose.
This time he didn’t try to stop her when she moved off the couch and stood by the hearth.
“The fire’s almost out.”
He didn’t bother to bank the heat in his eyes. “Not all of them.”
Tierney studied him. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“You probably won’t. I’ve gotta help Abe and Hank move cattle tomorrow. It’ll take all day. By the time I get the cow shit scraped offa me, it’ll be time to mingle with the guests.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” She ducked out of view, but not before he caught her strange look of determination.
Chapter Seventeen
True to his word, Tierney hadn’t seen Renner all day.
It’d taken an hour to pep talk herself into attempting an impromptu seduction—which just proved how not spontaneous she was, having to plan to be impulsive.
Her gaze stayed on him as she entered the main lodge area. Surrounded by a group of men, Renner was spinning some yarn, keeping them enthralled. The man had a way with people, any age, shape, size, nationality that produced a spark of envy.
Correction: just looking at him in his cowboy gear—jeans, boots, a Western pearl-snap shirt, black hat—caused a spark of lust to supplant the envy.
Janie chatted with a couple of the men’s wives, and Tierney ignored her attempt to grab her attention.
Starting a fight to get the man to kiss you, Tierney? Pathetic.
But she wanted to feel Renner’s mouth on hers. God, how she wanted it. Craved it. Another taste of that explosion of passion she’d never experienced. The hum of desire he triggered just by staring at her so hotly with those intense blue eyes.
Eyes, which were wary as she approached. Did Renner know what she was up to? And the question was: if so, would he play along?
“Tierney,” he drawled when she stopped before him, “you’ve got that look in your eye that means I’m in trouble.”
The men in his group laughed.