Dude Ranch Nights Read online

  “One reason I chose this area for my ranch. “

  Cam rose to his feet and stretched like a big cat. After that, he stooped to remove his boot and kick free of his jeans. C.J. watched in complete fascination, caught up in the symphony of his muscles shifting beneath his sleek skin, the fierce animal grace of his magnificent body. He was splendid and totally male, a primeval hero figure, fit for a statue or a painting.

  Although she’d play hell getting the film developed if she did, she’d love to snap a picture of him like this. However, her camera was still in her saddle bag where she’d stowed it before they plunged off into the canyon. Damn, I didn’t even get a shot of my lion. What was I thinking of? I let my squeamishness be my undoing here in more ways than one. That’s not like me either.

  She knew she didn’t get up with half Cam’s grace and ease, but she got to her feet, gathered her clothes into a pile, and followed him a few yards along the sandy streambed to the deeper pool at the upper end of the sheltered vale where they’d stopped.

  He hadn’t fibbed about the water. It was at least as warm as the pool back at the ranch, if not a bit warmer. They washed away the sticky residue of their loving, then sat together on a smooth table of rock for a few minutes to let the sun dry them. Normally, CJ would have been abashed to site nude in front of a man, but somehow she felt no discomfort this time. They were both naked, but it seemed natural, as if that was their normal state.

  What was left to hide anyway? He had seen all of her, even touched and tasted much of her, as she had done to him in turn. How could she feel so easy with a man she still barely knew? What was it about him that attracted, fascinated and enthralled her, yet did not bring the tension and the need to pose and preen all her other relationships had engendered? She studied him from beneath lowered lashes as she tried to figure out her response to him.

  Her thoughts drifted back to her first response to his photograph in the magazine. His level stare had seemed to pierce her to the soul. That glimpse had brought her here, riding a need to see if her odd hunch could possibly pan out. It had. With several days still to go and more adventures to enjoy, the trip was proving to be worth every cent it had cost her.

  The loss of the trek to India no longer rankled. She’d always miss Uncle Rene for they’d shared the powerful bond of their love for life on the edge, but he was gone and she lived on. He would expect her to experience life to the hilt, just as he had to the very last. He’d gone down flying some dangerous maneuvers on a photographic expedition in a remote and rugged area of the Andes’ western slopes.

  Turning back to Cam, CJ saw he had risen and started to dress while her thoughts had wandered. Although she hated for him to cover his incredible body, they’d both get sunburned if they stayed bare much longer. She gathered her clothes and dressed, too.

  After a more pedestrian meal than they’d eaten the day before, Cam cleared up their gear and stowed things in his saddle bags. CJ watched his casual efficiency and envied him for the comfort and ease with which he did everything. Does he ever feel ill at ease or move awkwardly? Somehow she doubted that he did.

  Chapter 7

  Cam turned to glance at her over his shoulder as he tightened his cinch. “We’d better head back to the ranch. It’s well into the afternoon and we’ve got a good three-hour ride ahead of us to get there. You might want to get some pictures of your lion, too. Pancho will have it secured in the walk-in cooler by the time we get there, but we can get it out and pose you with it at the corral. That’ll give you another souvenir to show your friends at home.”

  CJ frowned a moment, but recognized that pictures would be good. She’d gotten past the moments of horror from seeing the animal spill out of the tree, its tawny hide painted with blood. Pancho would have washed it clean anyway.

  “Yes, of course, if it isn’t too late when we get back. Won’t it be near or after sundown?”

  Cam shrugged. “There’s tomorrow then. The hide is yours if you want it, too. I know a good taxidermist who can cure it and do the head so it really looks life-like.”

  She shook her head. “I think not. I’ve no use for it. My apartment is done in Danish modern, so the safari style wouldn’t fit. I’m sure you can put it to some good use.” She’d seen hides and heads on walls in the lodge so suspected he could find a place for more if he wished.

  Long before they got back to the ranch, CJ drooped in her saddle. The extended day’s events took their toll on her while the slow miles by mule back passed like speeding snails. She looked forward to another steamy bath, a simple but pleasant dinner, and fully expected to sleep like a baby to regain her energy for a new day’s adventures to come.

  She found herself hoping Miranda and Randolph might have left. She did not want to face them after last night. Randolph’s perpetual leer would take too much away from her surprising interludes with Cam. It would also leave her feeling cheap and dirty instead of satisfied and comfortable. She knew his black gaze would strip her to the skin and linger with lascivious glee on her breasts and crotch.

  Being naked in front of his kind was in no way comfortable. What had possessed her to ditch her bathing suit just because the rest of them had done so? But if she hadn’t, would she have still ended up straddling Cam’s masterful cock, feeling him slide so exquisitely into her heated depths the first time? And without that, would today have happened as it did?

  Damn, I analyze things to death. Stupid. Just don’t think, C.J.! It only spoils one’s pleasures. Like I keep saying, this is an adventure. What happens here is not real or part of my normal, everyday life. It’s all outside the standard rules and strictures. None of my friends or family will ever know anything I do not choose to tell them. So there. Give over the worries and just enjoy.

  Fixing her gaze on Cam and the easy way he sat Flossie while she fox-trotted down the trail to the ranch, CJ tried to burn his image into her memory so she’d never forget. She’d never meet another man like him, not in New York for sure, and probably not anywhere else. The days pass much too fast. In the blink of an eye, I’ll be going home.

  They finally reached the ranch just short of sundown. C.J. managed to get off Mousie and not stagger too much as she began the ritual of unsaddling him. Of course Cam or one of the wranglers would have done that chore for her, but she’d developed a real affection for the small, sure-footed mule. She found she wanted to let him know she appreciated his faithful care for her. Even though she was less than expert in the kind of rough travel they’d done today, he had behaved perfectly and never caused her a moment of alarm.

  Cam came up behind her as she reached to heave the saddle and attached harness off the mule’s back.

  “You don’t have to do that. Guests aren’t expected to care for their mounts. That saddle with the full breeching and breast collar weighs over fifty pounds. Let me.”

  “I just wanted Mousie to know I appreciated his hard work for me today. He’s a remarkable creature.”

  Cam put his hands on her shoulders for a moment and squeezed gently. “He recognized you’re someone special, just as I do.” Before she could respond, he released his clasp and slipped past her to take the saddle. As he headed for the tack room he called back over his shoulder, “If you aren’t too tired, why don’t you join me for dinner? I often have mine served in my apartment at the end of the upstairs hall in the lodge. I’ll have Rosalinda bring it up about seven.”

  C.J. could only nod, finally finding a voice to mumble, “That sounds lovely. Thank you for the invitation.” It came out sounding much too stilted and formal considering the level of intimacy they’d experienced, but she was still struggling to come to terms with that. How close did she want to get to a man she’d be leaving in a few days and probably never see again? That idea had become almost unpalatable, and yet she could see no alternative. Cam was not likely to have a place for her in his life and none of her plans included becoming the mate of a dude ranch operator. It was almost too outlandish to contemplate.

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nbsp; A long, soaking bath refreshed her a bit, but she still felt bedraggled and worn when she dressed to join Cam for dinner. Tonight vamping was too much work. No stylish dress. She chose a pair of flowing slacks and silky white blouse, clothing that packed well and didn’t need to be pressed or freshened to wear. She painted her toenails a rosy red before she slipped on a pair of low-heeled sandals.

  Ready as I’m going to be. She sighed as she let herself quietly out of her room. Rosalinda and her young helper were just reaching Cam’s door. He opened it to Rosalinda’s timid tap and smiled at C.J. over the Mexican women’s heads.

  C.J. had been curious about Cam’s private rooms. She looked around to see how he chose to live. The room she entered seemed to span the width of the lodge. It obviously served as living room, dining room, library, and lounge with appropriate groupings of simple, sturdy furniture arranged to demarcate various areas. The dining area looked out over the patio and the pool. The sight of the pool, vacant at the moment, stirred memories that heated her cheeks. She felt a surge of gratitude when Cam seated her with her back to the window.

  Rosalinda served them with a minimum of flourish, but that did not detract from the simple elegance of the meal. They dined on colorful Fiesta Ware and sipped a fragrant merlot from tall crystal glasses, a wine that made a perfect complement to the beef burgundy and expertly prepared side dishes. C.J. had thought herself almost too tired to eat but she enjoyed the meal far more than she’d expected. The busy day had stirred a healthy appetite, which the delicious food satisfied.

  Cam entertained her with humorous stories of guests’ misadventures mostly caused by their own inept responses to various situations. He managed to keep just the right tone, not quite condescending or sarcastic, but still poking fun at the quirks and foibles and their results, never quite disastrous because Cam usually saved the day. Yet he didn’t paint himself as a hero, just a man doing his job.

  As they sat in silence for a moment, sipping after-dinner coffees, C.J. realized that quiet music played in the background. She recognized the melody as one of Chopin’s études, lyrical but also melancholy.

  “I didn’t expect classics from an Arizona rancher,” she observed. “Lovely surprise.”

  “Why not? Living in the high desert and enjoying the wilderness does not preclude a degree of civilization. To be honest, I’m really not one for the old cowboy songs around the campfire. I have a couple of wranglers who do that well, and I’m glad to leave it to them. In fact, that’s where most of the guests are this evening. Rusty and Slim took care of the hay ride and the chuck wagon dinner with a camp fire at the picnic site about half a mile down the creek. By now they’re plunking their guitars and yodeling, while the ladies moon over the romantic cowboy life and the men pretend to be unimpressed.”

  C.J. laughed. His droll comment amused her.

  “You’re such a dichotomy. One moment, you’re the consummate outdoorsman, rugged and fearless in the face of incredible hazards, and the next you’re as urbane as any gentleman in a New York salon.”

  Cam shrugged. “I’m who I am, a mixture of many things I suppose. My family has deep roots in the old eastern aristocracy and saw to it I was duly exposed to all the culture and so-called finer things. My inclinations were in other directions, though, so when I was old enough, I went my own way, yet some of the background seems to have followed me. Some of those finer things really are very pleasant.”

  “You’d have gotten along with Uncle Rene. He had much the same philosophy. He was my mother’s younger half-brother. Her mother died young and her father remarried, producing Rene with his second wife. Rene was always the rebel and the black sheep, but such a charming and exciting bad boy. He and I were co-conspirators from the moment I grew past childhood. He saw a kindred soul in me perhaps, and heaven knew I needed some means of escape from the narrow existence my parents planned for me. What would I ever have done without him?”

  Cam rose from the table and extended his hand. “Let’s sit on the balcony for a while. The evening seems mild, but I’m not in the mood for a swim tonight, unless you have your heart set on it.”

  “If Miranda and Randolph went on the hay ride I might, but not so soon after that scrumptious meal.”

  Cam’s tone sounded utterly bland when he said, “I believe he departed today, and perhaps she did, too. If not, I’m sure she went on the hay ride. I noticed she had an eye for Rusty when he led their trail ride the other day.”

  The balcony proved to be a tiny porch that sat inside the span of the slanting veranda roof at the back of the lodge, sheltered by the bulk of the main building and the wing on the west side. There was just room for a settee made in the traditional laced rawhide style and a small table, which held two clean glasses and another bottle of wine.

  Perfect scene for seduction. C.J. smiled to herself. As if I needed seducing at this point.

  She sank onto the seat and settled in the curve of Cam’s arm once he sat down beside her. For a few minutes they sat in silence, relaxed now in each other’s company.

  “What else do you want to do with your time here?”

  Cam’s question jolted C.J. out of her dreamy daze. “I’d love to see Monument Valley and a bit of the Navajo reservation and get some pictures. There’s no scenery like it anywhere, and I understand you do make a trek up that way at times.”

  “We could. I have a couple coming in day after tomorrow who wanted to do just that. The big camper truck has accommodations for several people plus a lean-to tent that’ll allow privacy for ladies or a couple. I could include you with no problem at all. What else?”

  It was C.J.’s turn to shrug. “What do you recommend? I have eight more days, and I want to get the most I can out of my time.”

  Cam laughed, a low suggestive chuckle. “I think you’re doing very well so far, don’t you?”

  Before she could come up with an answer, he brought her closer and bent to feather his lips across hers. She flowed against the solid heat of his muscled body, feeling as if she were melting into him. His kiss demanded nothing yet took all, the merest butterfly caress of lips first on hers and then moving all over her face, tasting and savoring everywhere—nose, eyebrows, chin, throat, forehead, and finally back to her lips. His tongue teased along the seam until she opened for him, welcoming the darting temptation of their oral dance.

  He tasted of wine and coffee, a rich and heady flavor that had her senses reeling. Before she quite realized what was happening, he had her blouse off. She hadn’t worn a bra. His hands played across the sensitive flesh of her sides as the chill whisper of an evening breeze woke her to the fact she was nude to the waist. Her nipples stiffened at that coolness, only to bloom further under his ardent gaze, the first feathering touch of his warm breath.

  It is a seduction scene. The thought slipped through her mind and faded as Cam’s touch worked magic on her, erasing the weariness and replacing it with sizzling arousal. Their two encounters so far had been fast, wild, frenetic, with very little foreplay, fueled by circumstances beyond their control. She sensed he intended to take it very slowly this time, building her desire to the flashpoint. While that might not be necessary—she seemed to respond to this man much quicker and more intensely than she ever had to anyone else—it would, no doubt, be delightful.

  She leaned back across the arm of the settee, letting her head loll, exposing her whole upper body to his ministrations. No man’s hands had ever worshipped her body so softly but with such heat, such passion, restrained yet intense. How his large, strong hands, capable of doing much work and exerting great force could be so gentle, she did not know. Her skin, her whole body, her very essence responded. Her torso seemed to flame as blood surged to the surface feeding the nerves that sizzled beneath her skin. The same throbbing heat swelled her breasts and hardened her nipples into rosy beads. He bent his head to nuzzle between her breasts. He had surely shaved as well as showering, but faint stubble remained on his cheeks and chin to abrade her fragile skin to e
ven greater sensitivity.

  His supple lips closed around one nipple and drew on it. Sparks shot away from the tug to flare into new heat in her pussy. She felt the flow of sticky moisture, wet heat anticipating his penetration. She writhed under his weight, seeking more contact, more closeness, more and more and more.

  He chuckled, a low, suggestive purr of sound. “What is it, my bold adventuress? What do you want?”

  “Closer,” she murmured. “I need to feel you, need to taste and smell and absorb you!”

  He stood and lifted her clear of the settee. With one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her bent knees, he carried her back into the main room. With what seemed to be no effort, he strode across it and into the room where she had not yet been, a room dominated by a wide bed, massive enough to hold his big frame in comfort. He lowered her to the bright spread, only to stand for a moment looking down at her, his eyes radiating intense, ravenous heat.

  “Have you any idea how beautiful you are right now? Peaches and cream, rose petals and alabaster. But there is more to be revealed.”

  With that, he bent to unfasten the waist of her slacks, slid the zipper down along her left hip, and began to tug the garment from her body. Weak with the lassitude of melting lust, she could only assist him a little, partly because she was also trying to unfastened the snaps of his western shirt and undo his belt. She could see the bulge of his erection straining at the containing fabric of his trousers, but he seemed in no hurry to undress. Once he had the slacks off her legs, he caught both her hands in his, stilling them.

  “Patience,” he chided, smiling. “Have you become an insatiable nymph? We have as long as we want tonight, so let’s make the most of it instead of rushing.”

  She almost wailed, the hunger and need of her body raised to a fever pitch. “You’re torturing me!”

  He laughed again. “Oh, no, simply showing you the finer points of lovemaking, building desires and sensations to the very peak. You’ll see, if you’ll let me do this my way.”