Fantasy for Hire - Erika Wilde Page 0,2
he passed looked on with envy and longing, not that her cowboy noticed. His gaze was trained on her, and the smile curving his mouth was pure, unadulterated sin.
Closer and closer he came. Teddy’s heart tripled its beat, and a mixture of excitement and apprehension warred within her. “Are you nuts?” she whispered to Kayla.
“Naw.” Kayla winked at Teddy. “Laurel and I wanted to do something special for your birthday. He’s all yours, at least for the next twenty minutes.”
Teddy blinked. “I don’t understand…”
Laurel gave her a jaunty grin. “It’s all very simple. Just enjoy yourself, and the fantasy.”
Teddy wanted a better explanation than that, but there wasn’t time to ask. Her fantasy was standing beside her chair. Hesitantly, she glanced his way, and found herself eye level with a pair of sinewy thighs wrapped in soft leather chaps that molded to his lean hips and strong legs, and profiled what made him impressively male. She forced her gaze higher, taking in a body honed to masculine perfection—virile, sexy and scrumptious enough to send her pulse racing.
It was a long climb up—she estimated his height well over six foot—but the trek was extremely enjoyable. By the time she reached her cowboy’s face and saw the warm, private smile flirting with the corners of his mouth, she felt breathless.
And then she saw his eyes for the first time. They were a striking green, with gold flecks that mesmerized and seduced. He had ridiculously long, dark lashes, and she had the fleeting thought that his eyes alone could tempt a woman to shed her inhibitions, and anything else he might request.
He touched his long fingers to the brim of his Stetson in a brief caress that had her thinking about those hands of his, and how they’d feel against her skin. It was a maddening, and totally inappropriate, thought, considering she didn’t know him at all, but if this was her fantasy, she intended to enjoy it to its fullest.
“Care to dance, darlin’?” he asked, the perfect gentleman.
She melted just a little, and speech suddenly became a difficult task. “I, uh…”
Kayla lifted Teddy’s hand toward the cowboy and winked at him. “She’d love to dance, and anything else you might be inspired to do.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he murmured huskily.
Uneasiness rippled down Teddy’s spine, putting her feminine senses on alert. What would be his pleasure? she wondered, feeling as though she was in the middle of a conspiracy.
What were Kayla and Laurel up to?
A warm hand clasped hers, pulled her to her feet, and she found herself being led to the dance floor, which was currently vacant. That didn’t seem to bother her partner, who gave the deejay a brief nod. As if on cue, the young man put on a slow, country ballad and announced into his microphone, “This one is for you, Teddy.”
If that dedication wasn’t perplexing enough, the soft, crooning voice drifting from the speakers totally bewildered her. In all the times she’d come to the Frisco Bay in the past two years, not once had she ever heard a country song. The deejay played rock and roll, and on occasion, a slow tune by a popular soft-rock artist. If you wanted country music, you went to the Silver Spur.
The plot was getting thicker and thicker…
Like a man accustomed to taking the lead, her cowboy smoothly pulled her against him, aligning their bodies intimately. One arm slipped around her lower back, keeping her from attempting to put any distance between them, and his other hand held hers loosely to the side. Very hesitantly, because she really had no choice, she lightly rested her free hand on his biceps…nice, strong, muscular biceps.
She kept her gaze averted, focusing on the crowd of onlookers over his shoulder, while valiantly trying to distract her body’s response to the man who held her so provocatively.
It was no use. Through the silk of her blouse and the cotton of his shirt, she experienced the crush of his hard chest against her soft breasts that had suddenly become achingly sensitive. And there was certainly no way she could dismiss the subtle pressure of his belly against hers, or the arousing friction of his leather chaps scraping against her thighs where the hem of her skirt ended. It was like being charged head to toe with an electrical shock.
She’d danced with plenty of men through the years, but none had ever ignited such an instantaneous blaze of heat, or made her so aware of herself as