My Favorite Cowboy Page 7

  After he folded it up, he stuffed it in his back pocket. “Now what?”

  Serena had been thinking long and hard about how to train Jarred, and she’d decided that the only way to make sure he could do things was to playact situations. “Let’s pretend I’m crying. What do you do?”

  He looked at her a good long time. Then, just like a tiger pouncing on its prey, he strode forward, folded his arms around her and held her close. Real close. So close that her nose was smooshed up against his chest and she could barely breathe.

  Heat radiated from the cotton fabric of his T-shirt. So did his scent. That wonderful, tangy Armani and man-smell that made her insides melt and her brain turn to mush.

  With supreme effort, she focused. Just when she was about to tell him that gentlemen did not grab their women and plaster them against their bodies, one of those amazing, almost too big, roughed up, incredibly masculine hands patted her head…and then drifted to her back.

  Then her lower back.

  Then settled on her…rear end?

  “There, there, honey. Stop crying, now,” he crooned, patting her butt. “You know how I hate to see you cry.”

  Even though she knew they were just pretending. Even though she knew he’d never thought of her as anything more than just his pal…it was as if her body had never gotten that memo. In short order, her knees went limp. Her body felt languid as she pressed a little closer to him. Hips pressed against his. Her breasts flattened against his chest.

  Yes, her body felt just right.

  He let out a little groan as his hands readjusted themselves again, cupping her rear.

  She knew she should stop him.

  She knew she should tell him that it wasn’t good manners to grab girls’ rears and hold on tight. But she couldn’t do it. All she really wanted to do was slide her face to the left, press her cheek on his chest and breathe in his scent.

  And so she did. Once again, their bodies adjusted to each other. One of his hands glided up her spine, gently caressing her. Under her ear, she could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Sure. Her hands itched to move. To circle around his neck. To pull his head down. Just a little. Just enough for her to look up and brush his lips with her own.

  Just for a second….

  A little shudder dragged through him. “Serena, are you done crying yet?” he asked, his voice strained.

  “Y-yes.” Her head popped up. She knew her face was flushed. She knew she was aroused—and Lord have mercy—she knew he was, too. With as much dignity as she could muster, she stepped back. “Perhaps we should move on. I think you can comfort a woman just fine, though maybe with Veronica you could offer her a handkerchief. She’d probably appreciate that.”

  “Would you?”

  She shrugged. “We, uh, can’t always judge my reaction to you as the best course. I’m not fancy like Veronica.”

  “You may not be fancy, but you’re sure pretty.”

  She blinked. She couldn’t remember another time when Jarred had ever noticed. “Thank you. Now, let’s work on another prop.”

  He picked up the umbrella and he twirled it a bit, like a clumsy Gene Kelly. “What’s this for? Rain?”

  “Obviously,” she said tartly. “But what it’s really for is to remind you that if it’s raining, you need to open it for her, and then hold the umbrella over her head. Even if it means you might get wet.”

  “I’m seriously paying you money to learn this?”

  “Of course.”

  “It doesn’t sound too hard.”

  “I don’t think so, either. But Miss Manners says there’s a certain skill to it. We better practice.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “How are we going to pretend rain, Serena? Get in the shower?”

  There went that image again. Jarred. Naked. Wet. Hot. Perfect. She cleared her throat and tried to concentrate on bills. Lots of bills.

  “I’m going to sit down,” she said. “You’re going to need to pretend you’re opening my car door.”

  “Uh-huh.” It really was amazing how much disbelief Jarred could squeeze out of that utterance.

  “And while you do that, hold out the umbrella for me.”

  “It hasn’t rained in Electra in months.”

  She sat. “When it does, you’ll be ready. Now get started.”

  Loping over, he pretended to open a car door, then looked up at the library’s ceiling with wide eyes. “My word! It’s raining! Looky here, Serena, I just happened to have an umbrella with me, too.”

  Before she could critique him, he pointed the umbrella her way, pushed the button, and the thing sprang to action in an instant. So fast, that the nylon brushed her face and only her quick reflexes enabled her to jerk to the right.

  Those reflexes didn’t prevent her from falling over, however.

  She groaned in frustration. “Jarred! You almost took my eye out.”

  “Crap. Get up, Serena. I’m getting rained on, here.”

  “Hold out your hand so I can take it.”

  He held out a hand. “Jeez, I never knew you were so helpless.”

  Taking his hand, she glared up at him through the sharp metal points of the umbrella. The same points that kept threatening to poke her again, he was so incredibly clumsy. “It doesn’t matter if I can do something or not. You’re supposed to want to help me.” When he still didn’t look as though he had a clue, she huffed. “Pretend I’m Veronica!”

  Gently, he ran a thumb over her knuckles, then pulled her up. “Better?” he murmured.

  “Better,” she said as she tried hard to ignore the little zing of tension that sprang to life between them.

  “Now hold up the umbrella so I can get under it.”

  Without a word, he repositioned the umbrella with his left hand, still holding her hand with his right. He stepped closer. Her shoulders brushed against his raised arm. They shifted. Now her chest touched his. Again.

  And then, for the second time in five minutes, Serena found herself enveloped by his scent. And that body of hers—dammit! That body sidled up next to him just as if they’d been made for each other.

  Her breath caught. Her mouth went dry. Then she made the lethal mistake of looking into his eyes. Right then and there, she was a goner.

  “Damn,” he breathed, right before he bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

  Unable to stop herself, she lifted her head, tilted it to one side and kissed him again. His lips were firm and cool. But there was an awareness there. Slowly, their lips met one more time, lips slightly parted. Still chaste—so chaste, but they lingered. Savoring. It would be so easy to open a little wider. To finally taste him….

  But wait. He was pretending she was someone else. With a jerk, she stepped back. “That’s it. You did good,” she croaked. “I mean well.” Her cheeks burned. “I mean fine. You did fine. Veronica would, um, have no complaint there.”

  His eyes clouded, surely mirroring what had to be going on with her own. “Good. I mean, I’m glad I figured that out.”

  Before she could reply to that—not that she had anything worthwhile to say—Jarred handed her the umbrella.

  Their fingers brushed. He pulled his fingers away as if they’d been singed, and stepped away from her side in such a hurry you’d have thought she had the plague.

  ’Course she did feel feverish. But he’d always had that effect on her. She struggled to get them back on track. “So, now we could probably work on helping a lady with a jacket.”

  His eyes darted to the table of props, then back to hers.

  Serena’s mouth went dry as she imagined him slipping his hands over her shoulders. Stepping close to him again. Oh, Lord.

  “Or, we could tackle that another time?”

  “I think another time’s best. Um, Serena, I know I said this was an emergency and all…but maybe we could stop? I’m sorry, but I think I’ve had enough.”

  She’d had enough, too. Enough of thinking about him in ways that she wasn’t supposed to. All she was going to d
o was hurt herself. They had no future. And never would.

  “That would be best.”

  He grabbed his hat, the Stetson that he’d tossed on the front table when he entered. “See you in three days?”

  “Three days is fine.”

  After another long look her way, his lips parted as though he was trying to find the right words but coming up emptyhanded, he turned and walked out.

  When the door swooshed closed behind him, Serena sat down with a sigh. Tutoring him was just as terrible as she’d feared it was going to be. When she was around Jarred, she imagined herself more than she was—and realized she was so much less than what she’d dreamed she could be.

  Standing under that umbrella had brought back memories of high school, back when they’d had lockers near each other. Every morning, he’d say hi with a little grin, ask how she was doing.

  And then after a pat on the shoulder or a lazy grin, he’d move on to other things.

  Mainly flirting with everyone else. Even back then, she’d gotten jealous.

  Of course, he’d never even realized it. Each day she’d watch the popular girls circle him like pretty vultures, waiting to be noticed. And more often than not, he’d noticed every one of them. He’d never said much to her—well, there had been the time when she’d been running for high-school treasurer and he’d asked her why she’d even wanted to run.

  She’d been so flustered, she’d told him she didn’t know. He’d said that was a real shame.

  Chapter Eight

  Jarred knew he was acting like a fool, but ever since he’d seen Veronica buying ice cream at the Electric Dip, he’d taken to stopping by there on a regular basis. Just for a look-see.

  Usually, he’d just miss her. Paula would fill him in on little details about Veronica’s purchase or comment on what she was wearing. He’d collect the information for later use.

  By now, he knew she drove a pretty little cream-colored Lincoln, liked to eat ice cream almost daily…and that she favored anything sweet that had next to zero calories.

  Just when he’d given up catching a glimpse of her for the day, Jarred saw Veronica sitting with Hannah at one of the back tables with just about the biggest dish of chocolate-fudge ice cream Paula offered.

  From the looks of things, Hannah was doing all the talking and Veronica was doing all the eating. A lot.

  The mound of chocolate was half-gone, and from the looks of the intent expression on her face, Veronica was well on her way to joining the clean-plate club.

  Something was obviously terribly wrong.

  Before she had a crisis of conscience and threw the rest of that dish of decadence out, he swerved into a parking lot, kicked on his Ford’s parking brake, then tipped his hat back on his head and ambled her way.

  “Hey, Hannah. Veronica,” he drawled as soon as the women turned his way.

  “Hi there, Jarred,” Hannah said. “Care to join us? We’re just trying to keep cool.”

  “I swear, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” he said quickly.

  Veronica said nothing, simply stared at him, spoon in her mouth.

  For a moment, he thought about those lips of hers. But, with a shock, all he was able to do was think about how sweet Serena’s lips were when he’d kissed her. Straddling the chair across from Veronica, he fought to stay on target. “Looks like you’re having quite a treat today.”

  “I am.”

  When she said nothing more and Hannah just tittered, he brought out the charm. “It looks good. Real good.” Her eyes widened. He grinned. Yes, there was a double entendre there. Damn, he was awesome.

  “It’s terrific. I couldn’t resist getting a big bowl of chocolate Turtles decadence. I’m probably going to gain ten pounds.”

  “That is a king-size helping. Probably enough for two.” Though, as soon as the lame joke left his mouth, he was filled with regret. Hannah glared.

  Oops. He knew better. Even his brothers could have told him not to tease a woman about her eating habits. “Not that there’s anything wrong with liking big portions.”

  “Oh, there is.” With a look of displeasure, Veronica pushed the dish a few inches away, though Jarred noticed that she didn’t let go of the spoon. “I don’t usually eat stuff like this. It’s just been one of those days.”

  “I’ve had days like that, too,” he ventured, hardly able to believe that they were sitting together, having a nice conversation.

  “Really?” Hannah asked. “Do tell.”

  Now things felt awkward. It was nearly impossible to flirt with Veronica while Hannah sat there.

  And almost impossible to flirt with a woman who seemed far more interested in ingesting empty calories than catching all his flirtatious ways.

  But he was determined to try his best. “’Course, my vices run more toward tequila. If I were you, I’d be proud of your ice-cream weakness. No matter how much you eat, you can still drive home.”

  She brightened a bit. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “Well, then, thank goodness I just happened to stop by,” he said with a smile—just in case she thought it was strange he stopped by her table at all.

  Ever so slowly, she pulled her dish closer and dipped that spoon into the bowl again, almost as though she couldn’t stop herself.

  Her temptation made him smile. Maybe she wasn’t too perfect after all.

  Because there was no time like the present to set a person’s mind to motion, he said, “Say, have you heard about the upcoming community auction?”

  After licking her spoon clean, she replied. “I have.”

  “Are you planning to go? I hear it’s going to be a real humdinger.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Now that sounded encouraging. “Is that right?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Jarred watched her ice cream melt in the heat…and temptation light up her eyes one more time. “Ice cream’s melting, sweetheart.”

  She swiped at the spoon with her tongue.

  As he watched—completely mesmerized—Veronica kept licking and talking. “Actually, I used to plan social events like that back in Dallas. I was pretty good at it, too, if I do say so myself.”

  After she rambled on for another minute or two, Veronica paused. “You didn’t know how important designer contributions are to bridal fundraisers?”

  “No,” he murmured. “I mean, I’m real impressed with your…work ethic. You seem very capable.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “I meant to say, I think you’re pretty incredible, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re so beautiful. And, um…smart.”

  “Why, thank you, Jarred. That’s so sweet! And kind. It’s not every man who can appreciate why it’s so important to me to take shopping trips to Dallas.”

  That was him—Mr. Kindness. Eager to steer the conversation to the auction, and to him, he asked, “Since we’re discussing auctions and all, I was wondering… Have you ever bid on anything good?”

  “I certainly have.” She leaned forward. Touched his forearm with two pink polished nails. “Jarred, are you planning to attend?”

  Nerves and pride and cockiness made him reply with something a little bit more than was necessary. “Darling, I’m doing more than that. I’m part of it.”

  Her pretty smile faltered. “How so?”

  “I’m auctioning myself off. As a date for a whole week.” Unable to stop himself, he winked and puffed out his chest. Might as well give her a good sample of what was in store for her.

  Shoot, maybe this whole winning over Veronica Snow was going to be easier than he’d thought after all. Maybe he could stop the foolish lessons with Serena and simply concentrate on winning Veronica’s heart, like he’d hoped to do from the first time he’d set eyes on her.

  “A whole week. With you. My, that’s very interesting.”

  Something in her voice told him that she wasn’t near as impressed with the idea as he’d anticipated. “I think i
t’s incredible, too.”

  “I see.”

  Her extreme lack of excitement was taking the wind right out of his sails. “I am something of a catch, you know,” he said, and just in case she was thinking he was too full of himself, he added, “Right, Hannah?”

  Hannah rolled her eyes.

  He soldiered on. “People asked me to do this. To auction myself off. It wasn’t my idea.”

  “No, I imagine it wasn’t.”

  Huh?

  As if the Lord above him was monitoring their conversation, a sharp rumble of thunder grumbled overhead.

  Veronica looked up with some concern and—was that relief he spied in her eyes, too? “Oh, my,” she gasped. “I didn’t even notice the clouds roll in. It looks like rain.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  “I better go.” Looking embarrassed, she fingered one of the sleeves to her white cotton top. “I sure don’t want to get caught in a storm with just this on.”

  “No, I imagine you wouldn’t. That’s a real sheer little top you got on. A little bit of rain would make it transparent.”

  “Jarred,” Hannah warned.

  Veronica looked Hannah’s way and stood up. “I really better go.”

  “No, wait!” he barked out. If he let this opportunity with Veronica pass him by, he’d be up a creek, for sure. “You’ve still got a bit of chocolate left in that bowl. Might as well finish it. It ain’t gonna rain.”

  Hannah kicked him. “Let her go, Jarred.”

  But somehow, he couldn’t. “You know, us cowboys know a thing or two about cloud formations and forecasting weather the old-fashioned way. I know what I’m talking about.”

  Down went her arms. “I suppose you would. I think my mother said you were a rodeo star or something like that. I guess you would know a thing or two about nature.”

  “Oh, I do, honey. I know a lot about nature,” he drawled. “I’ve spent more hours than you can imagine on the back of a horse, surveying our property. Don’t worry, that pretty little top is safe with me. Safe as a jail cell. I won’t let you get wet.”

  Just when she smiled at him, just when it looked like everything between them was going to get smoothed over, the heavens opened up and a steady stream of water came splashing down on them. In a split second, they were soaked.