“Maybe he’s looking for a good time.” Kayla wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously. “I’m sure it gets awfully lonely out on the range.”
As casually as possible, Teddy slid her gaze back to the cowboy, hoping he’d moved on to peruse another woman, considering any one of the ladies in the lounge would have killed for a smidgen of his attention. But no, he was still staring at her, and as she watched, he tipped his Stetson, then reached beside him for the glass that the bartender had delivered. He saluted her, and took a long drink of the dark liquid that looked like whiskey.
Her own mouth went dry, and she reached for her Appletini. The cool, sweet-tangy mixture did little to extinguish the heat spreading through her.
“Didn’t you once say you wanted a cowboy of your own, Teddy?” Kayla asked.
Teddy was startled that Kayla remembered that crazy night nearly six months ago when they’d sat at this very table and spun fantasies about the men in the lounge—imagining who they could be beneath their Armani suits and executive image. At the time, Teddy had wanted a cowboy, because it bucked convention—or rather her parents’ stuffy standards.
“We were just fooling around, and I think I had one too many Appletinis.” Setting her drink back on the table, Teddy waved a hand in the air. “It was just a fantasy, Kayla.”
Laurel leaned toward Teddy, a meaningful glimmer in her eyes. “Well, honey, fantasy is about to become reality.”
Suspicion twisted through Teddy as her two friends exchanged a covert look. “What are you guys up to?”
“Hey, cowboy,” Kayla called out. “We’ve got a birthday girl over here who has a thing for cowboys. Do you think you could oblige her?”
Teddy’s jaw dropped, and her face heated in mortification. Before she could recover from her shock, her fantasy man moved away from the bar and strolled lazily toward them.
“I’ll certainly do my best,” he drawled in a deep, rich voice that carried across the room and snagged a good amount of attention. The women he passed looked on with envy and longing, not that her cowboy noticed. His gaze was trained on her, and the smile curving his mouth was pure, unadulterated sin.
Closer and closer he came. Teddy’s heart tripled its beat, and a mixture of excitement and apprehension warred within her. “Are you nuts?” she whispered to Kayla.
“Naw.” Kayla winked at Teddy. “Laurel and I wanted to do something special for your birthday. He’s all yours, at least for the next twenty minutes.”
Teddy blinked. “I don’t understand…”
Laurel gave her a jaunty grin. “It’s all very simple. Just enjoy yourself, and the fantasy.”
Teddy wanted a better explanation than that, but there wasn’t time to ask. Her fantasy was standing beside her chair. Hesitantly, she glanced his way, and found herself eye level with a pair of sinewy thighs wrapped in soft leather chaps that molded to his lean hips and strong legs, and profiled what made him impressively male. She forced her gaze higher, taking in a body honed to masculine perfection—virile, sexy and scrumptious enough to send her pulse racing.
It was a long climb up—she estimated his height well over six foot—but the trek was extremely enjoyable. By the time she reached her cowboy’s face and saw the warm, private smile flirting with the corners of his mouth, she felt breathless.
And then she saw his eyes for the first time. They were a striking green, with gold flecks that mesmerized and seduced. He had ridiculously long, dark lashes, and she had the fleeting thought that his eyes alone could tempt a woman to shed her inhibitions, and anything else he might request.
He touched his long fingers to the brim of his Stetson in a brief caress that had her thinking about those hands of his, and how they’d feel against her skin. It was a maddening, and totally inappropriate, thought, considering she didn’t know him at all, but if this was her fantasy, she intended to enjoy it to its fullest.
“Care to dance, darlin’?” he asked, the perfect gentleman.
She melted just a little, and speech suddenly became a difficult task. “I, uh…”
Kayla lifted Teddy’s hand toward the cowboy and winked at him. “She’d love to dance, and anything else you might be inspired to do.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he murmured huskily.
Uneasiness rippled down Teddy’s spine, putting her feminine senses on alert. What would be his pleasure? she wondered, feeling as though she was in the middle of a conspiracy.
What were Kayla and Laurel up to?
A warm hand clasped hers, pulled her to her feet, and she found herself being led to the dance floor, which was currently vacant. That didn’t seem to bother her partner, who gave the deejay a brief nod. As if on cue, the young man put on a slow, country ballad and announced into his microphone, “This one is for you, Teddy.”
If that dedication wasn’t perplexing enough, the soft, crooning voice drifting from the speakers totally bewildered her. In all the times she’d come to the Frisco Bay in the past two years, not once had she ever heard a country song. The deejay played rock and roll, and on occasion, a slow tune by a popular soft-rock artist. If you wanted country music, you went to the Silver Spur.
The plot was getting thicker and thicker…
Like a man accustomed to taking the lead, her cowboy smoothly pulled her against him, aligning their bodies intimately. One arm slipped around her lower back, keeping her from attempting to put any distance between them, and his other hand held hers loosely to the side. Very hesitantly, because she really had no choice, she lightly rested her free hand on his biceps…nice, strong, muscular biceps.
She kept her gaze averted, focusing on the crowd of onlookers over his shoulder, while valiantly trying to distract her body’s response to the man who held her so provocatively.
It was no use. Through the silk of her blouse and the cotton of his shirt, she experienced the crush of his hard chest against her soft breasts that had suddenly become achingly sensitive. And there was certainly no way she could dismiss the subtle pressure of his belly against hers, or the arousing friction of his leather chaps scraping against her thighs where the hem of her skirt ended. It was like being charged head to toe with an electrical shock.
She’d danced with plenty of men through the years, but none had ever ignited such an instantaneous blaze of heat, or made her so aware of herself as a woman.
It was thrilling, incredibly sexy and unnerving.
As he moved her in a circle on the dance floor, she caught sight of her friends. Kayla grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, and Laurel snapped a picture of her and the cowboy.
Cringing at their enthusiasm, she cast a surreptitious glance at the man she was dancing with, only to find him staring at her, his eyes taking on a smoky moss hue. She felt the stroke of his thumb along her spine, the press of his large palm against the small of her back, and shivered. His warm breath fluttered a silky strand of hair near her cheek, and she caught an odd scent. She’d expected to inhale the strong odor of whiskey from his drink. Instead, she encountered the delectable fragrance of root beer, which made something curl deep within her. The man drank root beer, of all things. Briefly, she wondered if he tasted as sweet and warm as he smelled.
Clearing her suddenly dry throat, she pushed the forbidden thoughts aside and forced herself to break the silence between them. “This is, um, incredibly awkward. My friends can be a bit wild, and I’m sure they put you on the spot.” She licked her bottom lip nervously. “Dancing with me really isn’t necessary.”