One Stubborn Cowboy by Barbara McMahon Page B

fingers tingled in her lap as if they remembered the feel of his hot skin, the strength of his muscles, the wiry hair on his chest. Her breasts ached to feel his touch again, to feel his mouth opened on her, his hands moving against her, the solid wall of his chest.
    She took a deep, shaky breath. She couldn't keep thinking about it. She'd go mad. Especially if he didn't want her anymore.
    Tears filled her eyes at the thought, but she resolutely blinked them away, willing him to drive as fast as he normally did, willing the journey to be finished soon. Before she broke down and cried.
    Finally he turned in to her driveway.
    She reached for the handle, but his hand caught her arm and held her in her seat. She turned to look at him.
    "Are you all right?" He hadn't planned to ask her that, but the look on her face stopped the words he'd been going to say.
    She nodded.
    "I didn't hurt you?"
    She shook her head. He was hurting her, but not the way he meant.
    She dropped her gaze to the edge of her shorts, tracing the material with one nervous finger. "Actually, it was quite wonderful. I didn't know my body was capable of such feelings," she said slowly.
    "What are you talking about? What about your other lovers? Did none of them ever satisfy you?"
    She rubbed the edge of her shorts, wondering how to tell him. "Except for one fumbling foray into the realm of sex when I was in college, I, er, haven't had a very, um, active social life."
    "Meaning?"
    She threw him a look, a flush of embarrassed anger rising in her cheeks. "Meaning I've only done it once and it hurt."
    He closed his eyes. He certainly had not been expecting that. This woman was the epitome of self-assurance and confidence. Hell, she'd lived in San Francisco all her life. Of course he'd expected her to have had lovers. Shoving his hat back from his face, he turned and looked at her.
    "Dammit, you lived in San Francisco, a big, swinging city. You're pretty, successful..."
    "What does that have to do with anything? You think I sleep around just because I'm from the city? Let me tell you something, cowboy, I have morals just the same as anyone else. And I don't—"
    "Kelly, shut up. Jeez, you have a mouth on you. Say one little thing and you jump in with both guns blazing."
    "I wish I did have a gun. I'd take a shot at you."
    "And I bet I know where."
    "You'd better believe it, cowboy. Then you'd have a scar that would really gross people out."
    He laughed. She was so mad she could hit him, and he laughed.
    "Hell, I'd never show anyone," he said between breaths.
    She smiled, then chuckled as his infectious laughter reached through her anger. It was an absurd picture.
    Clamping her arm tightly against her side, she brought his fingers into contact with the soft swell of her breast. Slowly she stretched out her hand and rested it on his thigh.
    "Kit, get some protection," she said softly, watching her fingers rub against the soft, faded denim.
    "Have a care, darlin'. I can't use that leg, but it's not lost all its feeling."
    She smiled, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. She felt like a brazen hussy, suggesting he get protection. Maybe she should get something, carry it with her, just in case.
    "It might take a while," he said at last, the back of his fingers making the most of the contact with her softness. "Wouldn't have been a problem a few years ago. But now, dammit, I can't get anything from around here. After my display at the dance everyone would suspect you and I..."
    She looked up and blushed. "Small town, huh?"
    "You better believe it. It'd make the front page of the local paper. I told you I haven't had another woman since I was injured."
    "So what if they know? We're grown up."
    "I don't want gossip about you, Kelly," he said gently.
    Her eyes stung with tears again, but for a different reason. No one had ever taken care of her before. She felt cherished.
    "I said you were a pussycat." She smiled shyly.
    "Now listen here." He dragged her across the seat, his hand