Cowboys Are For Loving Page 14
All. The word mocked her.
The first two-thirds had gone well enough, but she’d come to a grinding halt at the last section.
Kent’s section.
Stymied, she’d abandoned trying to work at home. The quiet was driving her crazy. But coming to the office hadn’t helped, either. The noise of a magazine actively being put together surrounded her, but all it did was make it harder for her to concentrate.
Who was she kidding? She couldn’t concentrate no matter where she went.
That damn cowboy had destroyed her power of concentration, of creativity. Something else to blame him for, in addition to her sleepless nights and her loss of appetite.
Brianne closed her eyes. She needed a vacation, a long one. From everything. Including her own thoughts.
Her phone buzzed and she jumped. She stared at it.
Oh, please, don’t let it be Simon.
The editor had been calling her periodically, asking if she was finished yet. Hers was the last outstanding article before the magazine was put to bed.
She’d never been late before. It just wasn’t like her.
Nothing was like her since she’d returned.
Damn Kent Cutler anyway.
She jerked up the telephone receiver. “Gainsborough.”
“Ms. Gainsborough?” The halting voice of the receptionist was hardly audible. “There’s a man out here asking to see you. No, wait, please,” she suddenly cried. “You’re not supposed to go in there—”
“Linda? Linda, who is it?” But instead of an answer, Brianne thought she heard someone calling her name. Yelling it, actually. Startled, her heart quickening in her chest, Brianne rose and looked over the top of her cubicle wall.
“I don’t know,” Linda’s voice blurted from the receiver. “Some—”
“—Cowboy,” Brianne concluded for her.
She didn’t believe it. Kent was striding through the maze of cubicles, looking over the top of each one. The same expression on his face as when he’d gone after the calves.
“Should I call security?” the receptionist asked uncertainly.
“No, don’t do that,” Brianne ordered, then lowered her voice a decibel. “I won’t be needing them.” She let the receiver fall back into the cradle. He looked like a bull ready to charge. Anticipation went from a whisper to a roar as she signaled to him. “Over here.”
Her mouth felt dry as she watched him approach. Kent was scowling, just the way he’d been the first time she saw him.
What was he doing here? She was afraid to even form a guess.
He seemed to take up all the room within her cubicle when he entered. “A little far from the ranch, aren’t you?”
Kent didn’t bother answering that. It took everything he had not to throw his arms around her and pull her to him. Damn, but he had no idea he could miss someone so much. “You forgot something.”
She watched his eyes, searching. He gave nothing away. “What?”
“This.” He took a photograph out of his pocket and tossed it on her desk. It was slightly bent, as if it had traveled in his pocket a while.
Brianne looked down at the photograph. It was of the two of them, dancing at Hank and Fiona’s party. A slightly out-of-focus shot Will had taken. She’d treasured it the moment he’d handed it to her. She wasn’t accustomed to people taking pictures of her, only the other way around.
Gently, as if it would disappear if she mishandled it, Brianne picked it up. “Thanks. I looked all over for that.”
“It was under your bed. Ma found it.” He didn’t add that it had been placed on his coffee table where he was sure to see it. Didn’t tell her that looking at it had been what had sent him so far over the edge that he’d booked a flight for New York.
Brianne nodded, still holding the photograph. “Thank her for me.”
“You can do that yourself,” he informed her.
Seeing him like this had thrown her brain into slow motion. “Right. Of course. I’ll call her.”
But Kent shook his head. “Over dinner.”
Brianne interpreted that the only way she could. “She’s here?”
“No.”
Confused, she stared at him. If Zoe hadn’t flown in with him, how could she possibly thank the woman over dinner? “Then how—?”
What little space there was in the cubicle disappeared as he took a step toward her. “You can be at the Shady Lady in five hours. In time for dinner. She’s saving a place for you.”
Brianne felt her knees suddenly turn rubbery. She pressed her hip against the side of the desk. “Why would she be doing that?”
He couldn’t help himself any longer. Maybe it made him less of a man in her eyes, but it didn’t matter. He had to hold her. Now. “Because I told her I was bringing you back.”
A small circle of warmth began growing within her chest. “Oh, you did, did you?”
“Yeah.” He snapped the word out, but there was a tenderness in his eyes she’d only seen that last night. “I did.”
She cocked her head, her eyes on his. “And why would I go back with you?”
Why was she always so full of questions? “Because you love me.”
Her head jerked up. “What?”
He knew he was in danger of losing her. He couldn’t do it again, not after he’d taken her in his arms.
“All right, because I love you,” he admitted. And then the dam just broke. Reason after reason flowed out. “Because Quint let me hit him because he knew that you had me tied up in knots inside. Because nothing at the ranch means anything now that you’re gone.” He leaned his forehead against hers. Hers was cool. His was throbbing. “Because I want you to come back and marry me. Satisfied?”
She encircled his neck with her arms, her grin spreading down to her toes. “Not yet, but I plan to be.”
His lips were on hers before she could finish the last word. But even as he kissed her, a small, nagging doubt, raised by guilt, played across his mind.
When Kent drew back, Brianne looked at him, confused. He didn’t look like a man who just had his proposal accepted. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t ask you to give up your career.”
Her grin was bathed in affection. There was a sensitive side to this man. It just took a long time to uncover. “Good, because I’m not going to.”
It was his turn to look confused. “You’re going to live here?”
Brianne laughed. The man was adorable. “No. I plan to live with you. But, through the miracle of computers, faxes, e-mail and teleconferences, I can still work on the magazine.”
“So, you’ll live with me.” He repeated just to make it perfectly clear, and to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming.
Amusement danced in her eyes. “I’ll live with you.”
“Good, because it would have been a hell of a trek to your bedroom.”
This time when he kissed her, there were no doubts, no guilt, nothing but desire ripening to passion.
Her editor, drawn by the vocal exchange, stuck his head in. Simon realized that his best photojournalist had brought back a souvenir. “Brianne, stop kissing that cowboy and finish that article for me.”
She paused only long enough to look up. “In a minute,” she promised.
By everyone’s count at the magazine, it was the longest minute on record.
* * * * *
Look for Will’s story in
WILL AND THE HEADSTRONG FEMALE,
coming to Silhouette Yours Truly
in November.
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eISBN: 978-14592-6730-5
COWBOYS ARE FOR LOVING
Copyright © 1998 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
All rights reserved Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
Dearest Reader
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Books by Marie Ferrarella
Copyright