Chapter 1
So the
mountain had come to Mohammed.
Lynda Mason a.k.a. Talbot knew the exact moment Jesse
Talbot entered the foyer of the penthouse apartment. The hairs
on her forearms stood at attention. They would’ve saluted, too,
if she hadn’t run her hands over her arms.
Markie Elliot, society maven and notorious gossip, zeroed in on
him as well. She arched one finely plucked eyebrow and cleared
her throat. “Hubby’s here…down from the Black Hills.” With a
swish of her purple-highlighted dark mane, she gestured toward
the marble entranceway.
Markie’s nasal grate and her heavily sprayed, wine-colored
tresses hit Lynda at about the same time.
“So he is.” Lynda spat the words out along with a
strand of Markie’s metallic tasting hair. A quick gulp of
Perrier water washed away the tinny flavor. On an impulse, she
clinked her teeth to the fluted glass in a private victory
toast.
To us, Jesse Talbot…to our
inhaling and exhaling the same air at last.
Markie elbowed Lynda. “Jesse looks very GQ, despite
the boots.”
“Thanks,” Lynda murmured. Through heavy-lidded
lashes, she glimpsed black slacks, black shirt, and a
charcoal-gray sport coat. She glanced at his feet and smiled.
He had on flat-heeled, lace-up black ropers and not some
fancy-tooled, pointed-toed, high-heeled cowboy boots.
She
watched him work the room, or should she say the room work him -
hand shaking, shoulder clapping, everyone pandered to Jesse.
And the ‘King of the Mountain’ accepted it as his due, only
sidestepping Cleo.
“Poor
Cleo.” Lynda shook her head.
“You
mean Jesse’s snub?” Markie rolled her eyes. “She brings it on
herself. If Cleo has one failing, besides marrying too readily,
it’s wanting to get one over on her cousin Jesse.”
Lynda
nodded reluctantly. Cleo hadn’t brought it on herself this time
though. However willing, she’d been innocent of Lynda’s plan.
A couple of parties, a few well-chosen words, and Cleo had
scampered off to launch an all-out Jesse attack. A successful
attack, too, from the looks of it. She’d gotten the reclusive
rancher to venture down off his mountain.
Lynda
watched as the banker pointed Jesse in her direction, watched as
her adversary closed in. Over six feet of stalking manpower
headed her way.
What a
shame. At five feet ten, with an added two inches for high
heels, Lynda couldn’t help but notice that Jesse Talbot was the
only man at the party she could look up to.
And
what a look. He redefined handsome with his determined jaw,
prominent nose, and great bone structure. He had great hair,
too. His sun-streaked brown locks were a bit on the longish
side, due no doubt to a barber shortage up there in God’s
country.
She
guessed the newspaper photos she’d studied had been out of
focus.
Handsome didn’t change a thing. Mr. Talbot was the opposition,
or would be as soon as she confronted him. No, Jesse wasn’t
going to like his imposter bride nor her recent inheritance from
her Aunt Fanny that laid claim to a section of his mountain -
not one bit.
“Absence doesn’t seem to make his heart grow fonder,” Markie
said in a nasal undertone.
“No…no
rush to arms.” Lynda gritted a gleaming smile at the gossipy
woman. “Too provincial.”
“You
seem to think you’ve got him where you want him.” Markie patted
Lynda’s hand with a patronizing tap. “Never rely on a man’s
heart. That’s why, unlike Cleo with her multiple marriages, I
indulge in very long, very intense relationships that don’t end
at the altar…or in divorce.”
“Never
fear. It’s not Jesse Talbot’s heart I’m after.”
“Better fear,” the woman clucked her tongue, “until you know
what Jesse’s after.”
With a
crook of her finger, Lynda pawned both her empty glass and
Markie off on Edward Ferdy. The banker usually hovered
somewhere within elbow distance of the purple-haired socialite.
“Markie, darling,” the eager banker gushed and kissed her
cheek. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the stock
options offered by the bank.”
Lynda
suspected Edward had the hots for the sleek lines of Markie’s
portfolio more than for her svelte figure.
While
Edward fawned over his lucky break, Lynda strayed away to the
floor-to-ceiling window. She stared out at the black, black
night and the glittering skyline of the South Dakota
metropolis.
She
needed a moment to herself. She couldn’t believe she’d gone to
such lengths to capture the rancher’s attention and to lure him
down off his mountain. Pretending to be his wife of all
things. But there seemed to be no other way to fulfill the
terms of Aunt Fanny’s will in the time allotted. The funeral
had taken place three weeks ago and Lynda’s deadline was closing
in. She had only one week left to stake a claim to a section of
Talbot Mountain and then sell it back to Jesse Talbot.
Weeks
had dwindled away while the letters her uncles, Skeers and
Skeers the realty lawyers, had sent to Jesse informing him of
the inheritance went unanswered. More than likely they’d gone
unopened. The Skeers’ Uncles had been sending proposals for
subdivision of Talbot Mountain since well before Jesse’s Uncle
James had died. Offers the Talbots either rejected or ignored.
But
this was different. This was personal. This had nothing to do
with subdivision. This had to do with Aunt Fanny Skeers, her
last will and testament, and a timeline that was running out.
Lynda had merely a week left to persuade the rancher to buy or
else.
Or
else what? She really didn’t know. She guessed the codicil to
the will would reveal that when it was read next week. Although
Lynda surmised the money from Talbot’s buyout would go toward
her aunt’s favorite charities, she wasn’t positive what she was
supposed to do with the money or what she was supposed to do
about Jesse if he didn’t buy her out.
All
too soon her moment alone ended, interrupted by Jesse’s image
reflecting back at her in the glass. Somber-faced,
wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped, he ambled slowly, but
methodically, toward her.
He
looked as impregnable as his ranch up on the mountain. She’d
tried to get by the ranch’s barbed wire fences and the locked
main gate to see him. No sooner had she mentioned the Skeers
name than the ranch hands chased her off like some hungry wolf.
But, with Cleo’s unwitting help, Lynda had gotten Jesse to come
to her. So maybe he was not the formidable opponent everyone
claimed him to be. Maybe Jesse Talbot would concede easily.
Right. And maybe he’d roll over and let her tickle his tummy,
too.
Time
out for a reality check. Don’t underestimate the opponent.
As
steely gray eyes closed in on her, Lynda pivoted and faced
Jesse. He had unusual eyes, storm cloud gray with a flicker of
lightning. Her heart fluttered in anticipation of their awaited
meeting, then stopped mid-beat as he got within
shave-lotion-sniffing distance.
He
smelled good. She smiled at the wayward thought. That was a
distraction she couldn’t afford. She snapped her mind back to
the matter at hand. Somehow she had to get Talbot to own up.
Quietly.
“Jess-e-e-e.” Cleo’s screech of vowels seemed to break the
sound barrier. “Wait up.” Snatches of emerald suede and auburn
tresses followed on his boot heels. Evidently Cleo had no
intention of missing out on what she hoped was a
knock-the-chip-from-Jesse’s-shoulder greeting by his neglected
new bride.
She
was in for a disappointment. Lynda had no interest in publicly
airing their differences - and from what she’d read and heard
about Jesse’s tight-fisted control of the Talbot holdings,
they’d have differences.
Lynda’s nerves twanged like guitar strings. She was about to
rock the unsuspecting Talbot’s world.
When
he halted within a foot of her, Cleo collided with his back. He
didn’t even flinch. His face looked like granite, strong,
unmoving, craggy.
Cleo's looked triumphant - glowing, grinning, sort of like a
jack-o-lantern.
Lynda tried to keep her own face passive. She stood her ground.
Flashes of a cowboy in a long linen duster on a dirty cow town
street played through her mind. Jesse’s legs were braced with
his feet apart and his hands on his hips. His stance said,
Hit me with your best shot.
Lynda took aim. She pecked a wifely kiss to his cheek. Oh, but
didn’t he smell good enough to eat.
She swallowed back that thought in a hurry. Brushing her thumb
lightly to his jaw, in a pleasant wifey gesture, she flicked at
the lipstick smudge. His skin felt warm and surprisingly soft.
"Good evening, husband."
He rested his hands on her waist, but held her firm, making it
clear that escape was impossible. Of course, he had no way of
knowing that he was in her clutches and not vice versa.
His steady grasp caused her some worry. Forget El Niño and it’s
warming trend. The man created his own phenomenon. Her heated
body felt as if it had just emerged from a relaxing hot tub.
This was not good.
Those
gray eyes weren’t making it easy, either. She blinked as her
warm gluey brain cells translated his hypnotic message.
Nice
shot. But if you throw down your gun it can get even nicer.
Well,
Mr. Sex Appeal had better forget about that. She was immune.
Or she would be as soon as she rolled her lolling tongue back
into her mouth.
"Hello, wife."
Her
eyes dropped to his mouth. What a voice. Deep. Low. Husky.
What a mouth. That mouth performing ‘nice’ on hers flashed a
mildly erotic image through her mind. She shook the idea right
out of her head, fast.
Underrating Jesse Talbot could be hazardous to one’s health. He
was a walking, talking, shoot-from-the-hip menace, but with
‘curb appeal’ as they liked to say down at the real estate
office.
And
why was he smiling? She didn’t like the look of that smile.
Didn't much matter, because in the next instant with a sweep
that would make any movie director proud, Jesse bent her
backward over his arm and planted a lusty kiss to her lips.
Only one thought penetrated that steamy kiss. He tasted every
bit as good as he smelled. Better than good. He tasted like
more.
Too bad.
She
hadn’t met a man in a long time that tasted like more. Why did
it have to be Jesse?
When his hold tightened, she figured he’d end the kiss
and restore her to her former posture. Instead, he deepened the
kiss. His lips were hot, firm, pliant. Jesse had very talented
lips.
She
sighed. Being held in his strong arms and leaning against his
hard body tottered her equilibrium. While she teetered on the
brink of dropping her six-gun, her balance restored. Not on its
own, though. Or his.
Cleo’s singsong voice jolted things along. “Jesse,”
she chanted, “I see you brought your mountain manners with you.”
On that off-key note Jesse jerked upright, and Lynda
with him. As the gun smoke cleared, Lynda was able to see and
think again.
Well
almost. Cleo looked a bit blurry. And Lynda’s brain waves
trickled instead of flowed.
Soon
the cause became apparent. Jesse’s palm cupped Lynda’s butt.
She yanked his hand up to her waist. There, now her thoughts
streamed crystal and clear. Cleo’s image even became sharper.
Cleo
was propped in front of Jesse with her regal jaw jutted out. “I
still haven’t forgiven you for not inviting me to the wedding.”
“Not
now, Cleo,” he hissed through a forced smile. “We’re starting
in on our belated honeymoon.”
Honeymoon. Lynda beamed up at her groom with cow eyes, while
she subtly pinched the skin on his wrist, firmly. He flinched.
Good. At least the man wasn’t terminal.
While
his kiss had thrown her motor into overdrive - with a loud
knocking that sounded like either her heart pounding or her
bones rattling - his never revved beyond an idle. She had begun
to think the man was fossilized.
A
murmur rippled through the room bringing her attention back to
the party at large. Eyes peeped from behind cocktail glasses,
linen napkins, potted fronds, over shoulders, around elbows,
beneath fringed bangs. Ears perked, straining in their
direction. The last thing Lynda wanted were the eyes and ears
of the city’s who’s-who watching her and Jesse’s alleged
reunion.
Jesse
didn’t seem to mind though.
“Newlyweds,” he announced with a grin and winked at the crowd.
Jovial
laughter broke out.
Lynda’s fidgety fingers smoothed down the skirt of her basic
black dress, then fumbled with the Mikimoto pearls nestled at
her throat. The necklace had been part of her inheritance from
Aunt Fanny. Tonight she’d worn the pearls for luck.
Flicking her tongue along her bottom lip, she glanced sidelong
at Cleo for help.
“Don’t
let him have his way,” Cleo gushed almost on cue. “He’ll drag
you off to that mountain. You’ll be eating beef daily and
wearing never-been prewashed jeans.”
“Cleo,
that attitude of yours is why your daddy entrusted me with the
mountain, ranch and businesses.” Jesse raised his brow. “And
with you.” Then he hugged Lynda to him. “Besides, Lyn loves
denim and cows. Isn’t that right, hun?”
Lyn?
Nobody called her Lyn. Especially her soon-to-be opponent. And
hun? Her vertebrae locked, throwing her shoulders back and her
chin up. Her blood pressure elevated, flaming her cheeks to
what she guessed was a splotchy red.
She
hoped her guests didn’t misinterpret her fluster as a sign of a
gushy, blushy bride. Her strategy called for this bride to be
cool and indifferent. The man was messing with her cool.
Lynda
stared up at him. His hand had drifted higher, to her midriff.
His thumb was making circular movements beneath the cup of her
Wonder bra. The mesmerizing strokes were zinging glowing
promises to her womanhood. He was grinning. He was enjoying
himself.
This
definitely wasn’t part of the plan.
He was
not supposed to enjoy
himself.
Sylvie
Kaye has created a couple that generates more heat than a
mountain wildfire. Several supporting characters provide
interesting contrast to the fast-paced love story. LURING JESSE
is a quick, fun read guaranteed to raise your temperature.
--WCRG
Romance Review
Writers Club Romance Group on
AOL
"Never
Dare a Cowboy
was a fun read, full of sassy dialogue that never failed to draw
a smile."
Lisa Ramaglia
