Loe raamatut: «The Cash Brothers»

Prologue

Two could play the cheating game.

Except it wasn’t really cheating, because Beth Richards and her husband, Brad, were officially divorced. Earlier in the afternoon they’d met at the lawyer’s office to sign the papers. Afterward, Beth had gone on a shopping spree.

She adjusted her brand-new Victoria’s Secret push-up bra and fluffed the fake brown hair extensions that made her look twenty-one instead of thirty-one. She studied herself in the ladies’-room mirror and decided her lips could use a second coat of Ravish Me Red, then cursed her trembling fingers when she rummaged for the tube of gloss in the rhinestone-studded clutch.

You’ve come this far, don’t you dare chicken out.

She swiped fresh color across her lips and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles in her retro Western shirt. She looked nothing like a financial consultant for a top-rated investment firm and everything like the girls in the bar hoping to snag a cowboy.

Maybe if you’d dressed sexier for Brad, he wouldn’t have strayed.

And if Brad had remained faithful, he never would have gotten Beth’s boss pregnant and then decided that he did want to be a father after all.

Beth shushed the voice in her head and recalled her therapist’s words. Your husband’s infidelity is his problem. You didn’t cause it.

But her sterility was Beth’s problem and in the end, the reason her husband had filed for divorce. Sadly, had he not contacted a lawyer first, who knows how many months would have passed by before Beth discovered Brad was cheating on her? At least she understood the real reason behind the extra customer accounts she’d been asked to manage—Sara had hoped to keep Beth at the office on weekends while she snuck around with Brad.

Beth should have known something like this would happen after the way she’d caught Sara ogling Brad at the July Fourth company picnic nine months ago. Instead, she’d believed her sports-anchor husband’s claim that sexy women were a dime a dozen but when it came to marriage, he wanted a down-to-earth woman like her. When Brad had proposed to Beth, she’d told him that she couldn’t have children, and he swore he didn’t care.

The schmuck had done an admirable job hiding his true feelings the past five years, but the truth had come out during the divorce negotiations. Brad admitted he’d only married her to secure his job at the station when he’d heard rumors that the executives weren’t happy with his playboy image and might not renew his contract.

After Brad established himself as a settled man with his viewing audience, he’d decided having a family would move his career up the ladder. He was a user and she hated that she’d been taken in by his handsome face and playboy charm. Most of all, she despised him for doing a number on her self-confidence. But tonight she intended to recover it.

I can do this.

Never in her wildest dreams had she believed she was capable of walking into a bar and picking up a stranger. But after Brad’s betrayal, she desperately needed to prove to herself that she was still desirable.

The bathroom door opened and a pair of young women wearing stocking caps waltzed in. The chatty Cathies reminded Beth that Christmas was in twenty days, and this year she would not be attending Channel 3’s toy drive with Brad. The thought made her sad. Even though she wasn’t able to have children of her own, she’d looked forward to handing out gifts at the station. This year she’d sit home alone and watch reruns of A Christmas Story. She had considered spending the holiday with her parents in California, but she hadn’t gotten up the courage yet to tell them about the divorce.

“Nice belt,” the brunette said.

“Thank you.” Beth had paid almost four hundred dollars for her outfit—way-too-tight Cruel Girl jeans and a Roar shirt with enough sequins to light up Times Square. Add a rhinestone belt, purse and jewelry to her ensemble and she was pure sex in cowboy boots. Squaring her shoulders she left the ladies’ room, wincing when the wall of loud music hit her.

While getting her hair done at the beauty salon she’d overheard the stylists mention the Number 10 Saloon on the west end of Yuma. According to them, the Cowboy Rebels played on Saturday nights and their music was worth the ten-dollar cover charge. Beth had never heard of the band—she preferred classic rock. But what the heck, she’d already had a TV sportscaster in her bed—why not a swaggering cowboy?

She weaved through the tables and returned to her stool at the bar. “Thanks for saving my seat,” she shouted at the man next to her. He wasn’t much to look at. According to Brad, she wasn’t all that special in the looks department, either. She shoved her ex to the back of her mind and watched the patrons in the mirror mounted to the wall behind the bartender. This was her first foray into a country-and-western bar and she was pleasantly surprised by the decor. Used to eating in high-end dining establishments and frequenting upscale hotel lounges, she’d expected a dark, dingy saloon that smelled like spilled beer and men who needed a bath.

To her surprise the interior of the club could have been any frontier bar from the Old West, except that the furnishings were brand new and the place had been decorated for Christmas. A lighted tree stood next to the red-velvet curtains that framed the stage, and giant bows hung on the oil paintings of scantily clad women adorning the walls.

The food menu had been printed on the backs of Wanted posters, and battery-operated lanterns served as the centerpieces on the tables. Wide wooden planks covered the floor and wood beams crisscrossed the ceiling.

The band ended one song and began another. Beth listened to the lead singer belt out “Drink Up and Be Somebody,” which reminded her... She tapped an acrylic fingernail on the bar and a third glass of Bordeaux magically appeared. She sipped the wine and focused on the lead singer who’d introduced himself as Mack Cash. As he moved across the stage, his brown eyes and shaggy brown hair screamed T-R-O-U-B-L-E. The kind of trouble she was looking for tonight.

He wore a tight black T-shirt that showcased his muscular chest, and his jeans rode low on his hips, accentuating a trim waist and a flat belly. And the faded denim was torn, frayed and ripped in all the places that made a woman’s mouth water.

Oh, yeah, she’d found her man.

Before the night was through, she was leaving the bar with Mack.

A group of women moved closer to the stage, their big breasts bobbing and bouncing for the band’s viewing pleasure. Beth’s push-up bra helped her figure, but her girlfriends couldn’t compete with what was on display.

“Care to dance?”

The question came from behind Beth, and she spun on the stool. Average height, pleasant face, receding hairline, brand-new cowboy hat in hand, a bucking-horse belt buckle, freshly pressed jeans and a Western pearl-snap shirt. The weekend cowboy had tried hard to pull off the look, but he didn’t stand a chance in a bar full of real ones.

An invisible string tugged Beth’s head sideways, her gaze colliding with Mack’s. She stopped breathing when he smiled at her. “I’m sorry,” she told weekend cowboy. “I’m with him.” She nodded to the band. Now if only she knew how to execute her plan.

You need a clever pickup line.

How about... Hey, cowboy, wanna share my saddle?

Ugh.

I’ll be your Miss Kitty if you’ll be my Matt Dillon.

Cheesy.

The Cowboy Rebels ended their music set and Mack announced that the band was taking a break. He set aside his guitar, stepped off the stage and headed straight for Beth.

Her pulse sped up as she anticipated a night of revenge sex—even if it did come after her divorce.

Mack stopped next to her and she felt the warmth in his eyes clear down to her toes. The cowboy probably flirted with hundreds of women each weekend, yet he made her believe she had his undivided attention. He leaned against the bar, the movement sending a whiff of musk cologne and warm male past her nose.

Oh, boy. She’d bitten off more than she could chew.

“I haven’t seen you here before. First time?”

She nodded then silently cursed her dry throat. “Yes. And you?” Oh, God. She didn’t just ask that, did she? Get a grip on yourself and stop acting like an idiot.

“My band’s been playing at the bar for a few years.” He nodded to her wineglass. “Mind if I join you for a drink?”

“Please.” The guy next to Beth had vacated his seat without being asked. Mack slid onto the stool, his knees bumping her thigh. The bartender set a beer in front of him. He nodded to her wineglass. “Can I buy you another?”

Three glasses of wine was her limit. “I’m good, thanks.”

His stare grew intense and she resisted squirming. Even when she’d dated hotshot Brad, he hadn’t made her feel this off balanced.

“I’m Mack Cash.”

“Beth.”

“Beth what?”

“Just Beth.”

“An Arizona cowboy walks into a bar and takes a seat next to an attractive woman named Just Beth.” Mack kept a straight face. He’d noticed Beth the moment she’d entered the bar and had been hoping she wouldn’t hook up with another cowboy before he had the chance to speak with her.

“The cowboy gives Just Beth a quick glance then casually looks at his watch.” Mack nodded to his timepiece. “She asks...” He waited to see if she’d help his story along and when she didn’t, he said, “‘Is your date running late?’” Mack shook his head. “‘No’, the cowboy replies. ‘I just got this state-of-the-art watch and I was testing it.’”

Beth’s eyes twinkled and her posture relaxed. The muscle in her thigh was no longer as hard as a rock and she’d quit tapping her fingernail against the wineglass.

“Intrigued, Just Beth says, ‘What’s so special about your state-of-the-art watch?’ The cowboy explains, ‘It uses alpha waves to talk to me telepathically.’”

She laughed.

“So this Just Beth points at the cowboy’s watch and says, ‘What’s it telling you now?’”

Mack leaned closer to Beth and whispered. “‘It says you’re not wearing any panties.’”

She faked a surprised gasp. “How did Just Beth respond to that?”

“She said the cowboy’s watch must be broken ’cause she’s wearing panties.”

“And what did the cowboy say?” Beth asked.

“He points to his watch and says, ‘Damn thing’s an hour fast.’”

Beth’s mouth formed a perfect O then she snapped it shut and giggled.

Mack glanced at her bare ring finger. “So tell me, Just Beth, do you have a cowboy waiting for you at home?”

“Not anymore.”

“If I were to suggest we get to know each other better after the band finishes tonight...”

“I’d say yes.”

Score! Mack leaned in close, inhaling her sexy scent. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He returned to the stage and the band played a set of rodeo songs and he pushed Beth to the back of his mind, focusing on entertaining the crowd. He never wanted to disappoint his fans.

During the week he made decent money cowboying at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch, but it was the income he earned playing music that padded his savings account. His married brothers suggested he use the money to build a house and find a good woman to settle down with. In the span of a little over three years, four of his brothers and his younger sister had tied the knot. Mack and Porter were the only single siblings left in the family.

A part of Mack admitted that he wasn’t getting as much satisfaction out of the singles scene but old habits died hard, and he was only willing to give up the nightlife when the right woman came along. He looked over at the bar.

Just Beth’s stool was empty.

There went another shot at finding the right woman.

* * *

THE LAST PATRONS walked out the door of the Number 10 Saloon and drove off, leaving only a few scattered pickups in the parking lot. Beth sat on the tailgate of one of the trucks, rocking her legs as if she was on a playground swing.

She hadn’t been this excited or terrified in longer than she could remember. But she’d never done anything like this before. Maybe she should have indulged in a fourth glass of wine while she’d waited for Mack.

Too late now.

The saloon door opened and the Cowboy Rebels walked outside, carrying their instruments. The group exchanged words then broke apart and each member went to their vehicle. Mack’s truck sat in the shadows at the back of the lot, and it wasn’t until he got within ten feet of the pickup that he saw her and applied the brakes. A slow smile spread across his face.

“How’d you know this was my ride?” His husky voice poured over her like honey and she shivered.

“The sign on the door.”

He rubbed a finger alongside his nose as if embarrassed and nodded to the magnetic sheet displaying a cowboy on a bucking horse and the band’s name and website URL printed across the background. “Had those made up a few months ago.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Beth wondered if she’d read the signals wrong and Mack had only been teasing about sneaking away together after the bar closed. She hopped off the tailgate. “I...umm...”

Mack moved closer until only a whisper of air squeezed between their bodies. His fingers toyed with one of her hair extensions—could he tell it was fake? He tilted his head to the side to avoid bumping her face with the brim of his hat. Then he kissed her.

Sweet mercy.

The intensity of his kiss curled her toes—pure unadulterated hot, ferocious need. His mouth moved over hers with purpose, and his tongue left no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. She pressed herself against him and buried her hands in his hair, knocking his hat off. Her body had a will of its own and she rubbed the heel of her cowboy boot against the back of his calf.

When he ended the kiss, Beth gasped for air. If things went no further between them than a hot, lusty kiss in the parking lot, she’d go home a satisfied woman. Even so, tonight was about moving on with her life.

“The El Rancho Motel is a few miles from here.” The lodge was located near the neighborhood where she and Brad had bought their house.

Mack tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and the gentle gesture tweaked her heart. “You want to follow me in your car or take my truck?”

“I’ll follow.” There was no reason to give him the impression that she wanted more than a one-night stand. If all went as planned, she’d be gone before he woke in the morning.

He bent over and grabbed his hat off the ground.

She nodded to the white Lexus and he grasped her hand and walked her to the car, then waited for her to sit in the driver’s seat. “Are you sure?” His mouth hovered so close to hers, she could feel his breath.

“Very sure.” She brushed her lips over his and he groaned.

“Drive safe.” He shut the door.

Never in Beth’s thirty-one years had she envisioned herself going to a motel with a complete stranger.

Mack isn’t really a stranger. He was a popular local musician, and her gut insisted she had nothing to worry about.

Then again her gut had gotten it wrong with Brad.