Chapter Three
BJ was already up and preparing to cook breakfast by the time Jackson strolled into the kitchen. She hadn’t been able to sleep, their lovemaking from the night before had left her tossing and turning. It had all been so unexpected, and then ended so abruptly. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about everything. There was no denying Jackson was an attractive man, but she didn’t need, nor want, to get entangled with him. She was a small town girl, who hadn’t had sex in so long that she’d stopped counting the months. He was cosmopolitan and refined. If the society pages were to be believed, international super models graced his bed on a regular basis. She looked down at her well-worn jeans and faded work shirt. Yeah, she was going to give Heidi Klum a run for her money one of these days.
Footsteps echoed along the staircase and she glanced up just as Jackson barrelled into the kitchen. She bit back a slight grimace when her stomach did a tiny flip-flop at the sight of him. Hadn’t she just decided that she didn’t need to get involved with him? Her body must not have heard, because it hummed to life at the sight of him dressed in a pair of snug fitting jeans and a plaid shirt that stretched across his muscled chest. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing bronzed forearms covered in a smattering of hair. He was ruggedly sexy, and she shifted on her feet, fighting to ignore the sticky wetness that gathered between her thighs.
Their gazes met, as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat at the look in his sapphire eyes. He knew she was checking him out, but there wasn’t a bit of smugness on his face. Instead, a spark of desire burned in his eyes, making her hot all over.
She turned away before he could glimpse the warm blush creeping into her cheeks.
“I was just about to cook breakfast. Do you want some?” She asked nervously, trying to ease the sexual tension in the small kitchen.
“What are you making?” The deep bass of his voice vibrated from behind her, so close that she could feel the slight ripple along her back.
“Eggs, bacon and some toast.” She leaned away from him, as the smell of his cologne tickled her nose. When he was near, her body grew warm in places she didn’t want to think about.
“You want some?” She asked again.
“Sure.” He took a seat in the chair across from her, a grin on his face. “So you can cook too? What other hidden talents do you have that I don’t know about?”
The question was innocent enough, but the way he said it and the twinkle in his eyes charged it with a sexual energy that made every inch of her body go from warm to scorching.
“I have many, many talents, Jackson Downing. You have no idea,” she said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.
“So I’ve noticed.” She pretended not to see his gaze as it lingered on her lips and then her breasts, before inching its way back to her face.
So much for lightening the mood. She turned her attention back to the frying pan and tried to ignore the aching peaks of her nipples that pushed against her bra. She was so out of her element with Jackson. His notion of flirting was potent, lethal even.
“What’s on your agenda today?” She asked, trying to steer their conversation back to neutral waters, giving her body time to recover.
“Was going to ride out and survey the land.” He arched a brow. “Are you busy today?”
She knew what he was really asking of her, but she played dumb. “I’m always busy. I’m the foreman, remember?”
He stood up. “And that’s why I believe you have a good idea where it is I should start looking for oil.” His gaze bore into her while she busied herself with dishing eggs onto their plates. She ignored him.
He was there to find oil, and they both knew he needed her help. Even so, she still hadn’t got over the fact that this was her land—not his. He didn’t belong there.
“You’ve lived here all your life.”
He was hedging. “So.” She reached around him to set his plate of food on the table. “Orange juice is in the fridge.”
He sidestepped her, blocking her path. “I’m not the enemy, Bria. If I find oil, you stand to make money too.”
She pursed her lips into a tight line. “If you find oil? You shouldn’t even be here. This is my father’s land, my father’s ranch. Any oil you find should belong to my family, not you.”
“I’ve gone over your books dozens of times.” His expression was harsh as he closed the distance between them. “And you’re delusional if you think you would have ever been able to find oil on this land without some outside help. Drilling operations are expensive and let’s be honest, you would never have been able to raise the capital to afford that type of equipment.”
She knew that much, but he just didn’t get it. “I don’t care about the oil. I never have. All I care about is that this ranch stays in my family.”
His eyes softened, but he didn’t say a word. What could he say? They both knew he wasn’t giving her the ranch back, and that was all she wanted.
“Thanks for breakfast.” He said with resignation in his eyes, although, she could tell he wanted to push, yet, he didn’t. Instead, he gathered up his plate and started to leave the kitchen then, but she stopped him with a light touch to his arm.
“Wait.” She drew in a deep breath. She didn’t want to help him, but he was right. He wasn’t the enemy. He had simply bought a ranch that her sister had sold and they never would have been in that position had it not been for their father in the first place.
Jackson could have stormed in there, fired everyone—including her—and replaced them with his own people, but he hadn’t. He was there to find oil, and only oil. The ranching operation he’d left to her. Those were the actions of a good person, a good man. The least she could do was repay his sense of fairness.
“I’ll have some free time in the afternoon. Why don’t you meet me at the stables?”
He nodded, a small smile creeping across his face, causing her stomach to do another flip. She let out an inward groan at the adorable dimple that peeked out from his cheek. She was supposed to be maintaining a polite distance, not helping him, and certainly not melting into a mass of jelly at his feet. But here she was, softening towards him—and all for what? A cute dimple and sexy smile? She shook her head.
That’s just pathetic, BJ. You could’ve at least made him work for it.
* * * *
BJ knew she’d caved in too easily that morning, but she didn’t feel so bad about it when she made it to the stables and caught a glimpse of Jackson Downing trying to saddle up her prized stallion, Bolt.
She grinned as she moved towards them, nearly bursting with laughter when the skittish black stallion refused to let Jackson mount him and instead dumped him right on his ass.
“What’s wrong with him? You told me he was broken in.” Jackson growled at her stable boy, Riley.
“He is,” BJ said with a smirk. “He just doesn’t seem to like city slicker boys.” She ran her hand across Bolt’s shiny black coat, and he neighed softly, inching his way towards her.
“I’ll take it from here, Riley,” she said, dismissing him. She could mount Bolt without any help. She glanced over at Jackson who was dusting off his jeans—now he was a different story.
He definitely needs help, she thought, with an inward grin.
“You want to take out something more docile, maybe one of our ponies?”
“You think this is funny?”
She giggled, “I think this is hilarious. Jackson Downing can’t even mount a little colt.”
“He’s not a colt.” Jackson glared at her. “He’s fully grown and despite what you and your stable boy say, he’s not trained. I know you set me up on purpose.”
She launched herself onto Bolt’s back, all the while keeping her eyes locked with Jackson’s. A smug smile crossed her face when the stallion didn’t so much as move a muscle.
“Bolt’s as timid as a mouse, if the rider knows what he or she is doing.” She grabbed the reins. “I’ll wait while you grab a pony.”
He nailed her with his ice blue eyes. “I’m getting one of your geldings. Maybe you took the time to train one of them.”
She didn’t even bat and eye at his insult. “Ahhh, so we’re giving up on the stallions, I see,” she called after him when he disappeared into one of the stalls. “Not man enough?”
Her comment was met with silence. Minutes later, he returned sitting astride her favourite mare, Bluebell.
“Hey! That’s my horse.” She frowned at him, and at Bluebell—the traitor who was just as happy and content as could be. Bluebell and Bolt were siblings and shared a skittish and wild tempered nature. No one but BJ had ever been able to ride either of them—until now.
“Bluebell’s yours? I didn’t know.”
Liar. He’d seen her ride Bluebell twice.
She ignored him and trotted away from the stables, stopping just at the edge of the fence to glance over her shoulder, a small smile on her face.
“Bluebell’s quite a handful. Let’s see if the famous Downing charm works on any species.”
She turned around and took off on Bolt, but not before Jackson shot back. “I haven’t met one female I couldn’t handle—” BJ couldn’t quite make out Jackson’s last words over the roar of Bolt’s hoof beats, but she swore she heard him say, “including you.”
They’d see about that.
* * * *
“This is the last spot,” BJ remarked as Jackson dismounted beside her.
They’d been riding all afternoon and his shirt clung to him as sweat trickled down his chest and back. His muscles would ache in the morning, but he didn’t care.
It was nice to get out and ride every now and then. He hadn’t done it in a while.
He stood beside her, surveying the land before him. Rugged, desert terrain stretched for miles and miles around him in every direction. Most people would see nothing but barren earth, but Jackson knew that rivers of oil flowed just beneath the surface—they just had to find it.
He turned to face her. “Out of all three of the places we’ve been to, which one do you think is the best spot?” He had a hunch, but wanted to get her input as well.
She glanced over at him, the light catching her topaz eyes, that were shadowed by the broad brim of her Stetson. He was so mesmerised by their golden depths that it took him a second to realise she was speaking.
“Truthfully, I believe all three have oil beneath them, but I think you’ll have the best chance of finding oil here without having to shell out a great deal of money.”
“Really? Why?”
She stared straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the sun setting in the distance. “Most of it’s a hunch, but there are times when I come out here and swear I can feel the earth move beneath my feet.” She turned her honey brown eyes on him. “I know there’s oil down there. I can just feel it.”
And he believed her. She knew this land as intimately as she would know her lover’s body. BJ’s heart and soul were tied to Cottonmouth, it was there in her eyes. She was passionate about her ranch, which made him wonder what else she was passionate about.
“You never told me how you ended up becoming the foreman here?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “That’s because you never asked.” She turned away from him and he trailed after her.
“So I’m asking now.”
She stopped and stared up at the sky, her hands shoved into her pockets. “It was all I ever wanted to do. I started off as the foreman after I got back from college. Over time I took over more and more responsibilities, especially when Dad grew ill.” She gave him a wry smile. “I guess I should have paid more attention to the books sooner, but Dad never let on that there was a problem, and I preferred being out here running things than stuck in an office.”
Her eyes clouded over with a measure of pain and regret, before she masked her emotions. “So, what about you? How’d you end up running a multi-gazillion dollar ranching operation with your three brothers?”
He raised a brow. “A gazillion dollars?”
She grinned. “Close enough.”
He shook his head, a small grin on his face. Where did she come up with this stuff? “When our father died, my older brother, Jacob, took over in his place. I guess it was just expected that after we were done with school, we would come back and help him. We all knew he couldn’t do it alone.”
“And that was a good thing—that you all came back to help him. Look at what the four of you have managed to accomplish together.”
He shrugged. “I never really stopped to think of it like that. But I guess it is pretty cool when you do think about it. We’ve managed to pool our strengths into a successful business that we all love. It’s hard work and long hours, but we really love what we do and that we get to do it together.”
“Four workaholic bachelor brothers.” A teasing glint lit up her eyes. “You think any of you will stop long enough to enjoy it, settle down and count your bazillion dollars?”
He stilled, the blood freezing in his veins. She was only joking, but her teasing words dredged up a host of unresolved feelings he’d been trying to forget.
“One of us has settled down,” he said tightly, purposely avoiding her searching gaze.
She wanted to say more, ask more, it was right there on the tip of her tongue, but the sound of hoof beats in the distance drew her attention—thankfully—away from him.
A lone rider galloped towards them and as he drew closer, Jackson recognised him—it was the stable hand, Riley.
“What is it, Riley?” BJ asked, taking in the anxious look on his face.
“It’s La Reina,” he said breathlessly. “She’s about to deliver her foal.”
* * * *
La Reina was just that. She was the queen of Cottonmouth, their most prized mare, and she was delivering her very first foal.
BJ and Jackson raced back towards the stables, their mounts easily leaving poor Riley and his gelding in the wake of their dust—literally.
Five hours later, BJ stood just outside the stall nervously pacing back and forth.
“You should get some rest. If she has trouble, I can have someone come get you.”
BJ stopped to stare up at Jackson. His beard shadowed his face. He was both rugged and sexy, as untamed and wild as the land just beyond the stables.
“No. I want to stay. I stay for all the mares, just in case.” She was referring to the foaling process. Most of the time it went smoothly, and the mare delivered without any assistance, but there were a couple of instances where she‘d needed to intervene.
“Is there anything I can get you then?”
“No. Why don’t you go get some rest, yourself?”
He winked at her. “And miss out on this? Not a chance.”
His statement made her think this was his first time witnessing a foaling, but three hours later, when they realised La Reina’s foal was in breech position, she discovered he’d done this before, probably more times than she had.
By the time she returned from making a call to the veterinarian, Jackson had delivered La Reina’s foal—much to her relief, and annoyance.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d done this before?” It was the first thing she said as soon as they entered the house after leaving the stable where La Reina and her new colt were resting.
“What? And let you think I wasn’t the ignorant city boy you made me out to be? What would be the fun in that?”
She shot him a dark look. “You’re so immature.”
“You’re just jealous that I delivered your mare’s colt and not you.” She didn’t bother denying his words because he was right.
“I’m gonna grab a shower and change.” He took off up the stairs, and BJ decided to do the same.
Fifteen minutes later she was back in the kitchen scrounging around in the cupboards for something to eat. She had assumed Jackson would head to bed, so she nearly jumped out of her skin when he crept up behind her.
“Shit. You scared me to death. I thought you were going to bed.”
He frowned at her. “Bed? I haven’t eaten in twelve hours. I’m starving.” He looked over her shoulder into the pantry. “What were you thinking of making?”
“That's what I was trying to figure out when you nearly scared me half to death.”
He grinned, drawing her attention to the tiny dimple in his cheek. That’s when she realised he’d shaven. He was unquestionably handsome, although she found she had to squelch a twinge of disappointment that the rugged and untamed Jackson was now gone.
“Let’s see what you have in here,” he said reaching around her to grab for an item off the shelf. She let out a tiny gasp when his arm brushed against her right breast, her nipple instantly responding to the gentle caress.
They both stiffened, their gazes clashing. He was the first to recover, clearing his throat.
“Give me a second and I’ll whip up some sandwiches.” This time he was careful to avoid touching her when he reached into the pantry again.
The room was draped in tension, the awkwardness from their earlier moment still lingering around them. She sat down at the counter and watched him in silence while he threw together a late night dinner.
Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence any longer she spoke. “So, you can cook, deliver foals and you’re a millionaire? What can’t you do Jackson Downing?”
He glanced up as he handed her a plate with a BLT on it. “Didn’t you know? There’s nothing I can’t do. I’m damn near perfect.”
She shook her head, hiding the grin behind her sandwich.
Perfect? No. But he was certainly not what she’d expected. From day one she’d misjudged him. She was just glad she hadn’t let her earlier judgement of him keep her from seeing the real Jackson. They ate in silence until he noticed the slight grin on her face.
“What are you smiling about?”
She finished her sandwich and slid out of her chair to dump her empty plate into the sink. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how I didn’t give you a chance when you first got here.”
She turned but drew up short when she nearly collided with the solid wall of his chest.
“And that’s funny?”
She shook her head. No it wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t say that out loud because she couldn’t seem to find her voice when he was so close.
She wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. One minute he’d been sitting across the counter and now he was standing there before her. His nearness sucked the air right out of her until she was foggy and lightheaded.
“Well, since we’re being honest.” He ran his thumb along the seam of her lips, and her heart thudded harder in her chest. “I guess I should tell you that I didn’t give you a fair shot either.”
That wasn’t surprising. Most people didn’t, but if her recollection of their initial meeting was correct, it was she who’d been difficult—not him. He’d tried being nice.
“I don’t remember that.” Her voice cracked. “I remember you being professional and polite—”
He silenced her with a single finger against her lips and moved closer until only inches separated them.
“When I met you I thought you were brash and abrasive—” Well, she was, wasn’t she? “—nothing but a rude tomboy.” She gasped when he pressed his lower body against her, the outline of his hard cock digging into her belly.
“And, I’m not all of those things?” She managed to stammer out.
“You are.” He dipped his head to the curve of her neck and she shuddered against him. “But earlier today when you talked about Cottonmouth, there was a quiet passion in your eyes. And tonight as you handled La Reina’s foal, you were full of tenderness.” He pulled her closer. “There’s a softness that you like to hide Bria, but it’s there—deep down—it’s there.”
“Bria? My mother was the only person who called me that, and now you.”
He lifted his head to stare into her eyes. He looked at her as if he could see straight to her soul, and an emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time welled up inside her at the expression on his face. He made her feel vulnerable—in a good way—but still she was open and exposed to him, something she hadn’t been with a man in some time.
“I like Bria. It’s a beautiful name, and for me, it suits you better.” He crooked his lips into a grin. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
She averted her gaze to the floor. Every time he told her she was pretty, she felt like such a fraud. She pushed at his chest.
“Why are you doing this, Jackson?”
He looked at her as if she was dumb, as if to say, the reason should be obvious.
“I want you Bria. I have from the moment you cursed me out on your front porch.” And just in case she had any doubt about that, he jerked his hips, pressing his cock deeper into her belly.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you.” His voice was raspy and hoarse, and she stilled at the look in his eyes. Smouldering embers of heat leapt in his turquoise gaze, along with a storm of conflicting emotions.
“I said I would leave you alone.”
After they’d nearly made love in that very same kitchen, she said she would leave him alone too. But it was hard to remember that vow with the heat of his body pressed against hers, while every inch of her burned for him.
“Don’t.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Don’t leave me alone,” she murmured as she lifted on her tip toes. This was a mistake—she knew it—but she couldn’t stop herself and when Jackson dipped his head, and she met him mid-air to press her lips to his.
An explosion of pleasure and need erupted inside of her and she moaned into his mouth. He swept his tongue between her parted lips, tasting her, drinking from her and she shuddered against him.
Their bodies clashed together, their hands and lips going everywhere, searching beneath their clothing. Jackson arched into her, pressing her deeper into the sink’s edge.
She didn’t realise she’d winced until Jackson gathered her into his arms and laid her atop the kitchen table, sending place mats and the pepper shaker tumbling to the ground.
“Better?”
His dimpled grin was infectious and she found herself smiling back. “Much.”
This time when their lips met, the kiss was gentle, slower, as they both took their time exploring each other. BJ twisted her hands in his hair, holding Jackson close, her legs encircling his hips to pull him deeper into her embrace.
His thick, hard erection was hot and heavy against her sex and she rocked against him, silently begging him to release himself from the confines of his pants and slide inside her. She’d never felt this way before—so wanton, so out of control. But with Jackson, he made her feel sexy, desirable, beautiful.
His hands slid along her legs until they reached the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. With steady hands, he undid the flimsy drawstring and pushed them over her hips, down her legs, until he had her out of them.
He stared at her with a sharp intensity that made her breath quicken in her chest, and molten heat swirl in her belly.
“You have gorgeous legs,” he whispered reverently. “Long, toned, soft. They’re perfect.” They weren’t. They were too skinny, but the way he looked at her made her think otherwise, and when his hands roamed over the bare skin of her legs, leaving tiny goose-bumps in their wake—she couldn’t think, period.
He leaned into her, seizing her lips, his hands curving beneath her to grab her ass. His tongue plundered her mouth, sending tingling flames of heat licking across her skin, as he gently massaged the firm globes of her ass.
She clung to him, her hands wandering over his broad shoulders, his chiselled back, before inching their way to his taut ass, where she returned the favour. Their kiss grew more urgent as he probed inside her mouth, demanding her complete surrender—and she gave it.
She arched deeper into him, her small breasts flattening against the muscled planes of his chest. She whimpered softly when he tore his lips from hers, until he dipped his head to the curve of her neck to stroke his tongue along the sensitive skin.
Jackson nibbled on her neck, his hands slipping between her legs. He slid one finger into her juicy cunt, the wet heat of her pussy surrounding him.
His deep groan mingled with her sharp cry of pleasure, her entire body shivering with need.
“Jackson.” She whispered his name, unable to keep the plea from her voice. She wanted him inside her, the hard length of his cock battering against her tight walls. He knew what she wanted, what she needed, but he denied her and instead slipped another finger inside her.
It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was more than enough. She rocked against his hand, meeting the deep stabbing strokes of his fingers, as her pussy filled with more juice. He stretched her, filled her, the pounding rhythm of his fingers brushing against her g-spot.
Her entire body vibrated around him, the tight buds of her nipples straining against her shirt. Jackson taunted and teased her, bringing her to the brink of climax before backing off again.
When he did it again, she pulled back from him, her eyes flashing with frustration.
“Just enjoy the tease,” he said with a wicked grin. She wanted to tell him that it was easy for him to say since he wasn’t the one on the verge of orgasm, but she never got the chance when he pressed his thumb against her clit, and massaged the tiny nub with just the right pressure.
She cried out his name, her back arching like a bow.
“That’s it, Bria. Just let go.”
She moaned louder. She was so close and when he slid down the length of her body and settled his head between her thighs, she knew she wouldn’t last much longer.
He stroked his tongue through her wet slit before latching his lips around her clit and sucking hard.
“Jackson,” she screamed his name, the onslaught of pleasure was so intense. Tunnelling her hands through his hair, she leant back, her thighs clamping around his head as he devoured her pussy.
His mouth consumed her, his hot tongue probing in and out of her tight hole. When he slipped two fingers inside her, the sensory overload was too much. She let out a long, low moan, her hips jerking off the table to meet his questing tongue and thrusting digits. She shuddered against him just before she erupted, the muscles of her pussy spasming from the force of her climax.
“Mmmm,” he groaned against her cunt, lapping up her juices as tiny shocks of pleasure vibrated throughout her entire body.
When she finally quieted, he slid up her body and kissed her slowly and gently, leaving the taste of her juices in her mouth.
“You taste so good. I only wish I could have seen your face when you came.”
She stroked her hand along his cheek. “You still can,” she said with an impish smile, feeling emboldened.
He grinned down at her, but before he even said a word, she knew she wasn’t going to get her ultimate wish for the night. She knew he wasn’t going to make love to her.
“I wish I could.” Regret filled his eyes. “But, I can’t.” He lifted himself off her and helped put her pyjama bottoms back on. When she stood to her feet, she pretended to ignore the sticky wetness still lingering there.
Jackson was silent. She desperately wanted to ask what was stopping him from making love to her, what held him back, but she refused to push him. If he had his secrets, then he was free to keep them, so she was surprised when he clasped her face between his hands and said, “I want you Bria, there’s no denying that.”
He gave her a wry smile and gently nudged her belly with his still erect cock. Right. There was no doubt there. “But I came to Cottonmouth to get out of a sticky situation and get over a woman.” He dropped his hands and stepped away from her.
“It’s not fair to drag you into something when I don’t know where my head or heart is right now. You deserve better.”
He leant down to kiss her, the gentle kiss once again stoking the fire inside her, but before it could rage out of control, he lifted his head.
“Good night, Bria,” he said, disappearing up the stairs.
She stared after him for a long while, thinking that whoever this woman was—the woman who still had Jackson’s heart—was a very, very lucky woman.
A tiny pang shot through her heart as she allowed herself a foolish thought—what would it be like to be loved by Jackson Downing? To be the woman who claimed his heart?