from the beer tent, the muffled voices rising from the flap, the hum and thump of various engines and compressors around the rodeo grounds—all the sounds of the night seemed to pound in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of her heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub. It sounded faintly ominous, like the music from Jaws. She could take it as a warning, or she could see it as a challenge.
She’d always loved a challenge.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
He hoisted Willie under his good arm and they strolled in silence back to the trailer. Unlocking the door, he set the dog inside and held out a hand to Sarah. She glanced up at the moon and felt suddenly adventurous, like her old self. Taking his hand, she climbed in after him.
She glanced around the snug, shipshape interior. There was a tiny breakfast nook with leather-padded benches on each side, but Lane had set his gear bag on one and Willie claimed the other, turning in tight circles before lying down.
“He parties all night with the ladies, then comes back here to sleep,” Lane said.
“Wonder where he learned that routine.” Sarah sat down on a foldout bed that doubled as a sofa. She felt surprisingly comfortable, considering she was in a very small space with a very large man. Maybe it was the dog. “He doesn’t seem like a cowboy kind of dog.”
“He’s not.” Lane shot the dog a scowl. “He turned up in the back lot at Fort Worth. I figured I’d pawn him off on some buckle bunny or something. Named him Willie as a joke. But nobody ever wanted him and now he won’t answer to anything else. Guess I’m paying for my sins.”
Lane lowered himself onto the bed beside her, which was understandable since he couldn’t stand fully upright in the small space. The moon cast a cool, soft light through a skylight, silvering his face to the tones of an old tintype and accentuating the timeless masculinity of his features. He looked like he’d just come in from playing cards with Wild Bill or chasing after Butch Cassidy. His eyes met hers and she realized she’d been staring.
“What?” he asked.
“I was wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Would you kiss me again?”
He reached for her and pulled her close—but not close enough. Leaning backward, she pulled him down on top of her and slid her lips over his jaw to whisper in his ear.
“When you kiss me, I remember who I really am.”
Chapter 11
Sarah flexed her hips, pushing her pelvis against Lane’s. That was probably his belt buckle she was feeling.
Or maybe it was him. She sure as hell hoped so.
Because cutting loose from her uptight city-girl persona had loosened something else, too. Some people might say it was her morals, but she felt relaxed and a little euphoric, and it wasn’t just the tequila. Maybe it was her inner hussy, or maybe it was her true self.
It felt good to tell her secrets. Of course, there was nothing to stop Lane from telling Eric she wasn’t what she seemed, and while Eric might not fire her, he wouldn’t trust her anymore. How many times had he mentioned how lucky he was to find a girl with so much inborn class and culture? How many times had she led him to believe she was the real thing?
She felt a stab of panic, then shrugged it off. There was no point in worrying. What was done was done. She didn’t know if it was the heat of Lane’s body or the warmth of the tequila running through her veins, but something was torching all her inhibitions and igniting all kinds of delicious new possibilities. She’d resolved never to mix business with pleasure, but Lane didn’t want any part of the business, right?
Besides, the rodeo arena, standing isolated on the highway to nowhere, seemed somehow separate from the rest of the world. Cars and trucks whipped by on their unknown business, oblivious to the lights and noise, the little dramas playing out behind the rough wood ranch-style entrance. Once the dramas were played out, people drove out of the lot and back into everyday life. It was like stepping out of time and into a fantasy world. Suspended in a ray of moonlight, she felt the world outside the trailer slow, then stop.
Maybe, just for one night, she could step out of the life she’d constructed so carefully and be herself. She took Lane’s face in her hands, burying her fingers in his hair as