Free The Cowboy by Joan Johnston Page B

before he pulled her sweater up over her head, leaving her wearing only a plain white bra. It was the only time she had truly regretted being poor. She’d wished she had on some expensive French lingerie, something made of delicate lace that would make her beautiful for him.
    Trace hadn’t minded. He’d grinned and told her how glad he was that the bra clasp was at her back, because he had an excuse to put his arms around her. He’d made her feel beautiful without the need for rich, expensive things.
    That long, lazy night they had spent together on the banks of the Colorado, they’d loved one another with reverence and abandon and delight. She had become a woman in his arms that night. And they had created their son.
    “I remember,” she murmured.
    “I found you enchanting, Callie.” He turned her in a circle that forced their bodies close.
    Callie barely had time to register the fact that he’dphrased his compliment in the past tense before he added, “You look tired.”
    “It’s been a long day,” she said, aggravated that she could feel hurt that he no longer found her enchanting. She kept her eyes determinedly focused over his shoulder. She considered staying silent, but decided it would be safer to direct the conversation herself. “Congratulations on winning the bid on the number twenty-three animal. Smart Little Doc was a steal at $76,000.”
    “That colt you got wasn’t bad, either,” he said.
    “You mean the one colt you let me have.” Callie bit her tongue to keep from saying more.
    “I didn’t expect you to return after you left the stands,” Trace said. “Why did you?”
    “My father called me a quitter.”
    He hesitated, then said, “And you’re not?”
    “You left me, Trace, not the other way around.”
    “And now I’m back,” he said quietly.
    “You’ve been back nearly four months,” she said, her eyes flashing. “Today is the first I’ve seen of you. Am I supposed to fall at your feet—or into your bed? I’m a widow now, the mother of two children.”
    His jaw flexed. “I’m not likely to forget either condition. That doesn’t change the fact that I still find you desirable.”
    “But not enchanting?” Callie flushed as she realized what she’d revealed.
    “I never said you weren’t enchanting, Callie,” he said as he met her gaze. “I merely observed that you look tired, which you do. You’ve obviously been working too hard. I could make life easier for you, if you’d let me.”
    “More Blackthorne charity? I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.”
    “You may not want it. But you need it,” Trace contradicted.
    Callie refused to argue the point.
    “Since Dusty’s bum leg put him out of business, I need someone to train my new stud for the Futurity,” he said. “I’ll pay you a premium wage for your time and half the purse, if Smart Little Doc finishes in the top ten.”
    “I will never, ever work for you.”
    “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Callie.” He pulled her close so her breasts grazed his chest.
    She pushed at his shoulder, caught a neighbor watching with raised brows, and muttered, “Let me go, Trace.”
    “The dance isn’t over, Callie.”
    He might as well have said
I’m not done with you.
She’d gotten the message loud and clear. “We don’t know each other anymore, Trace. We might as well be strangers.”
    “I know you in every way there is for a man to know a woman.”
    “I’ve changed,” she said. “I’m not the girl who fell foolishly in love with you.”
    His eyes focused intently on her. “So much the better.”
    “What do you want from me?”
    “That should be obvious.”
    His hand pressed against the small of her back, drawing her close enough to feel his hardness against her softness. A frisson of awareness streaked through her. She gasped, tried to catch the sound, but was too late.
    “Look at me, Callie,” he commanded.
    Callie tried to jerk free, but Trace tightened his hold. She raised her chin