Crazy for Cowboy Page 7

  * * *

  “Cowboys?” Emily shot Houston a quizzical look as he pulled into a vacant parking spot near the popular, western-style hangout. Was this really the setting he’d planned for their first date?

  The cowboy bar was the perfect venue for singles to meet, boasted beautiful scenery in the form of staff and clientele, and claimed to offer The Most Fun You Can Have With Your Boots On. But it wasn’t exactly the place to have a leisurely, get-to-know-you chat over a glass of wine. As they walked toward the maroon, stucco building, the sound of music and laughter increased with every step.

  Houston slowed. “I didn’t expect it to be this busy.”

  Was he kidding? Stampede fever had hit the city and the Greatest Little Show on Earth brought a million plus people through its gates each year. Throughout the annual, ten-day exhibition, Cowboys was Party Central. To accommodate all the extra patrons, the establishment pitched a gigantic tent over the adjacent parking lot, piled bales of hay everywhere and let the fun spill outside.

  She and Houston wove their way past the gyrating throng to the main entrance. Ever the gentlemen, he opened the door for her. Emily hesitated for a second then slipped inside. There, with the heavy base beat pounding against the soles of her shoes, she scanned the interior. Through the crowd, she spotted many of her clients and, standing by the corralled-in dance floor, was one of her ex-boyfriends. She led the way to the only empty bistro table she could find, keeping her head down, examining the floor.

  As Houston held her chair and waited for her to sit, Emily sneaked another peek at her ex. He looked like he’d just come from a weeklong cattle run—toned, tanned and trolling for women. His jeans were low enough to show off the crack of his butt and tight enough to cut off the blood supply to his brain. He lounged against the railing, bestowing a boyish grin on a passing female. The smile became a leer as he followed the woman’s progress to the ladies’ room.

  Emily averted her eyes and sank down in her seat. What had she ever seen in him? And what would Houston think about her poor taste in men if her ex happened to wander by and introduce himself? Would she survive the embarrassment? Emily turned away, popping her elbow onto the table and resting her palm against her forehead, hiding behind her hand.

  “Hi, I'm Tina,” a model-perfect waitress informed them, shouting over the top 40 country tune blaring from the speakers. “What would you like to drink?”

  The petite beauty wore black cowboy boots, black jeans, and a hardly-there black T-shirt. Bold, white letters blazed across her bust claiming her as a member of Team Cowboy. Tina topped off her ensemble with a scarlet Stetson, which stood out like a red traffic light. Though, from her flirtatious smile, Emily guessed the splash of color functioned as a green light … for hot blooded men everywhere.

  Although the waitresses were all dressed the same, Emily couldn’t shake the notion that she’d seen Tina before. It took her a moment, but she finally placed the woman. This server had made a splash on local news when she’d snagged the attention of a visiting Prince Harry. Seeing Tina in living color, Emily could see why she’d caught the royal’s eye. But Houston barely glanced at the bronzed beauty.

  “We need a few more minutes, if you don’t mind.”

  The woman winked at him in response. “No problem, cowboy. I’ll be back in a flash.” Tina headed off to her next table, wiggling her derriere in Houston’s direction, though he seemed completely oblivious to her charms.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as a remixed Hank Williams complained about someone’s cheatin’ heart.

  “Yes. Of course,” Emily replied in her best nonchalant voice. “Why?”

  “Because you’re holding your head like you need an aspirin.”

  She peeked through her fingers and met Houston’s eyes. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t hide all evening. So what if her ex was here? It was all ancient history between them. If Houston didn’t like the fact that she’d actually managed to date other men (no matter how tenuous their claim to that title) before he arrived on the scene, then it was his problem, not hers.

  She slapped her hand against the table and sat upright. As soon as she did, Gord Hogan, who was dancing with a woman half his age, caught her eye and gave her a wave. He nudged a boogying buddy at his side. The guy looked up and nodded in Emily’s direction. She remembered the man. He was another horse owner. She’d helped one of his mares through a difficult birthing in the spring.

  She waved back to them then checked the rest of the room, to see if there was anyone else she knew. The only thing Emily discovered was a strange incongruity about her date. Here he was, among cowboys like himself, and no one seemed to recognize him.

  * * *

  There was definitely something wrong. In spite of her denials, Emily was behaving like an actress with opening night jitters.

  Brandon had thought Cowboys would provide the right atmosphere for their date. Sam told him the bar was famous among his set and, knowing Emily’s interest in cowboys, he was positive she’d love it. But here she was, holding her head again. Sure the music was loud, but he couldn’t shake the idea there was more to her discomfort.

  “Emily?” Brandon reached across the table and touched her hand, held it in his. “Don’t get too comfortable. I thought we’d have a quick drink here to start the evening off, but it’s just the first stop I have planned. Okay with you?”

  “More than okay.” She needn’t have uttered a word. That smile of hers had relief written all over it. He wasn’t sure why, but at this point, he didn’t care. The problem was solved. Only to be replaced by a new one. They had a couple of hours to kill before dinner time. If they weren’t going to stay at Cowboys, where was he going to take her?

  Not to the local watering hole for actors. That’s all he needed, to have one of his cronies approaching him and Emily discovering his deception with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He wanted to break the news to her gently. With that in mind, he couldn’t very well take her to Eduardo’s, either. And, wearing his cowboy gear, he wasn’t dressed for anything swanky.

  Suddenly, it came to him. He snapped his fingers. “Good. I know just the place.”

  * * *

  A short drive later, they were at the Calgary Stampede. Emily stepped through the main gate, Houston at her side, and soaked up the surroundings. Being at the fairgrounds always made her smile.

  Maybe it was the cacophony of sounds that filled the air—music, laughter, the delighted squeal of excited children, and the whirl of machinery as the rides ran through their courses. Or maybe it was the smells—popcorn, Carmel apples, buffalo wings and horse manure. An odd mixture, and strangely intoxicating, even for an old hand like herself.

  Still, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of disappointment. Her past dates always took her to the Stampede. She’d been here so many times over the years, she’d lost count. Emily had wanted her date with Houston to be different. Memorable.

  “You’re quiet,” he said, after they’d made their rounds and ended up back at the midway. He grasped her hand, sending a shiver of longing through her.

  She’d spent the last couple of days talking herself out of her attraction to him. Much good it did her. Here she was now, strolling beside Houston Saveloy, a man she barely knew and one she’d already marked as taboo.

  And not only strolling. She was inching as close to him as possible hoping for a whiff of his cologne, the scent even more mouth watering than the deep fried, sugar-cinnamon donuts the Stampede was famous for.

  “It’s hard to talk over all the noise,” she said, once she found her voice.

  “Pardon?”

  Emily took a big breath and spoke louder. “It’s hard to talk over—”

  She stopped when she caught his grin. He’d been teasing her, making her repeat the sentence he’d heard perfectly well the first time. “All these cowboys,” she finished, with a chuckle.

  His forehead crinkled. Had she said something wrong? Before she could ask, he was steering her toward
the Giant Wheel. “Wanna give it a try?”

  She looked up, way up, at the towering Ferris wheel. “I’m a little afraid of heights.” And, up until now, that hadn’t been an issue. Cowboys generally liked to keep both feet on the ground.

  Houston bowed and gestured toward the ticket booth. “I shall protect you, fair maiden.” After he paid for their ride, they took their place at the end of the line. Houston tipped his Stetson to another couple a few yards ahead. The woman waved back, enthusiastically.

  Emily felt a twinge of jealousy and silently chastised herself for it. She had no hold over Houston. And, as recently as that morning, told herself she hadn’t wanted one. But the woman was a knock-out, especially wearing that little, black corset over her white shirt.

  Then Emily spied the beauty climbing into one of the Giant Wheel’s yellow saucers with a guy who could have been a Greek god in a past incarnation, one who sported a white cowboy hat. They looked so happy together, Emily felt another wave of envy. Would she ever experience that kind of relationship with a man?

  “Is that woman a friend of yours?”

  “A business acquaintance,” Houston explained, as they moved up in line. “Her name’s Stacey Hamilton. She works at the Stampede as an administrative assistant. She was my contact when I did a show here a few years back.”

  “A rodeo show?”

  “Not exactly.” He toed some pebbles on the asphalt. “Not even close, as a matter of fact.”

  Emily guessed there was a tall tale behind that statement. Cowboys were like fisherman. They always had a story about the one that got away. “Sounds intriguing. You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

  “Later tonight. I promise.”

  Bit by bit, they made it to the front of the line. Two full cars passed then another empty seat appeared. Houston held Emily’s elbow, helping her into a red saucer, the warmth of his hand radiating up her arm. He pulled himself in beside her while the attendant fastened the chains around them.

  The car lurched backwards, leaving Emily’s stomach far behind. Slowly, the wheel turned as the ride let off more of its old passengers and accepted new ones.

  At the top of the Ferris Wheel, they were motionless again. She knew looking straight down would be a mistake, so she kept her chin up, gazing out over the Stampede grounds, over the other rides, the dealers’ booths and the crowd. They were high enough to catch a glimpse of the mountains across the horizon of the big prairie sky.

  The downtown core was in full view. They were practically at eye-level with the top of the tallest office buildings, as high as the Calgary Tower. At that altitude, there was nothing to block the wind. It whistled through her hair and tickled her neck.

  Emily sighed at the spectacular vista and turned to share the splendor with Houston. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings, his eyes focused solely on her.

  Their saucer rocked forward. Emily tightened her grip on the seat beside her. Her stomach muscles contracted as their car dropped from the sky and moved around, backing them up and over again.

  She let out a moan as that sinking feeling hit her belly. Houston’s hand fell over hers, warm and reassuring, and her tummy did a flip-flop that had nothing to do with the motion of the Ferris wheel.

  The ride spun around again. She felt light-headed. And that feeling only grew stronger when Houston placed his arm around her shoulders.

  Emily nestled close. She could always blame the centrifugal force later, but for now, she closed her eyes and let his nearness ease her fears.

  The ride slowed. Emily sensed it was coming to an end. Soon, there would be no excuse for him to touch her. Whatever feelings of chivalry had led him to embrace her would be gone. If he held her after this, it would be because he wanted to. Wanted her. And damned if she didn’t hope for that moment, in spite of her previous denials.

  When she opened her eyes, she was looking out over the mountains again. They were hanging at the topmost point of the wheel. Below them, Emily could hear the passengers exiting from the bottom car.

  Even though the ride was all but over, Houston’s hold on her remained. His face wore the same expression as when they’d taken that impromptu dip in the pond.

  “Are you going to—”

  She didn’t finish her sentence. Couldn’t. Houston’s mouth fell over hers with an urgent claim.

  Waves of heat coursed down her body. She parted her lips, returning the kiss. He moaned softly at the invitation and wrapped his other arm around her, flicking his tongue against hers.

  The car jolted forward and broke them apart. They were silent for a moment, Emily still breathless from the encounter.

  Houston sat back in his seat, looking mighty pleased with himself. “What were you going to ask me?”

  Emily smiled. “You already answered.”

  Back on the ground, she tried to act normally, as though the moment of passion on the Ferris wheel had never happened. But she was wobbly on her feet. She pretended it was from the ride but it was from the kiss.

  Most definitely, from the kiss.

  They passed a sign announcing the Chuck Wagon Races at the grandstand. Houston consulted his watch. “It’s going to start in twenty minutes. Are you game?”

  He sounded so eager she didn’t want to disappoint him, but the races were the last thing she wanted to see. True, it was a popular event, but the risk to man and horse was too much for Emily to bear. She’d gotten into the habit of attending the sport with her eyes closed.

  “I’ve struck out again, haven’t I?”

  His words surprised her. That he knew how she felt without her saying a word, warmed her from the inside out.

  He reached for her hand, stroked her flesh with his long, broad fingers. Even that light caress was charged with sexual energy. What would it be like to be intimate with a man that made her feel so incredibly aroused with a simple touch?

  They walked back to the car like that—him holding her hand, and her barely holding herself upright as she burned with desire.

  “You’re full of surprises, Mr. Saveloy.”

  “Oh? Which surprise are you referring to?”

  “That kiss on the Ferris Wheel.”

  His eyes flicked over her, a smile playing on his lips. “I had the advantage. I knew you wouldn’t be able to run away.”

  “True enough,” Emily said, thinking back to the dizzying height of the ride and the exhilarating memory of his mouth on hers, that resolution she’d made about cowboys all but forgotten.

  When they reached his vehicle, he drew her close, wrapping her up in his embrace. His lips brushed against her ear then trailed down the length of her neck. His mouth found hers, caressing it with a burning need. She felt the throb of his desire as his body hardened against hers. In a moment, they’d be crawling into the back seat of his car, unable to contain themselves any longer.

  Gently, he drew back from her. He reached down and opened the car door. “M’lady,” he invited, in a voice still thick with passion.

  “To our next stop,” she replied, climbing in. “While you can still drive.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Emily half expected Houston to suggest skipping dinner and starting on dessert. At her place. With the lights off. And, after those heart-stopping kisses, she was game to go along with that plan.

  But Houston proved himself a gentleman again. He didn’t press his advantage. And by the time he’d navigated his car through the downtown core and parked near the Center Street Bridge, Emily was practically salivating. Not with the expectation of food, but with thoughts of him. Naked in her bed.

  Only food is what she got. Emily pulled up short when she realized where he was taking her. “A sushi bar?”

  “Don’t you like sushi?”

  “I love it,” she replied. Now, this was different, surprising, exactly what she’d hoped for all along. “I’ve just never had sushi with a cowboy before.”

  “I’m not your average cowboy.”

  He had that right. Thi
s was the most intriguing date of Emily’s life. With the most intriguing man. Drinks at a cowboy bar, a ride on a Ferris wheel, now raw fish and rice?

  “Table for two?”

  Emily turned to find a petite, Asian woman gazing up at them, her brows lifted in question. She looked as shocked to see a cowboy in her restaurant as Emily was.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Houston told the greeter.

  The woman led them over to a table by the window. From her seat, Emily had a panoramic view of Chinatown—a mix of red brick, gold accents and multicolored statues. Mythical lions and dragons stood vigil over the premises and bade visitors welcome.

  Bringing her focus back to the interior of the restaurant, Emily found that it was filled with Asian customers, the best recommendation a sushi bar could have. Other than themselves, the only patrons holding a conversation in English were two older ladies who sat at a nearby table. They looked strangely familiar, probably because they were the only other Caucasians.

  Emily and Houston placed their orders then sat back, sipping on a cup of green tea. “This is lovely,” she told him, meaning it. The respite was the perfect opportunity to cool her jets and put her libido back in check.

  “I could tell you were uncomfortable at the first place we went to.”

  Emily was about to reply but decided against it. She didn’t want to explain her embarrassment over her ex. It wasn’t the kind of honesty they needed to share on their first date.

  “I’d never been there before,” he continued. An easy grin played on his lips, that same sexy smile he’d worn after their kiss on the Ferris wheel.

  “Where? To Cowboys?” she asked, shaking some sense back into her head. “Really? I find that odd.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a regular hang-out for cowpokes.”

  “As I mentioned earlier, I’m not your average cowpoke”

  Before she could reply, the petite waitress was back, holding two trays of sushi. “Alaska roll for you?”

  “Yes, please,” Emily answered.