Dynasties Collection

“You look great,” he said as he came up to her, laying a hand on her knee. “Almost as if you knew what you were doing.”

“Of course I do. Riding’s easy. There’s no clutch to worry about.”

“Thank God.” Cole had vivid memories of trying to teach Dixie how to drive a standard transmission. He ran a hand over the girth. “Seems tight, but Trouble has a bad habit of holding his breath.” He went to his horse, who was trying to snatch a bite of grass.

“Don’t you trust me to get it right?” she demanded.

“Did you saddle them?” The girth was fine.

She flashed a dimple at him. “No.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

“So I’m not a cowgirl. I did make the picnic food. We’ve got a beef and sausage tart, marinated baby veggies and—hey!”

Tilly rounded the front corner of the building at a dead run. Trouble sidestepped, throwing his head back. Cole grabbed for the reins. “Damn that cat of yours! Let go before he pulls you off!”

But it wasn’t Dixie’s cat in pursuit this time. It was a Doberman.

Tilly made for Cole, who was trying to keep Trouble from trampling both of them. Cole hollered at the Doberman, hoping to scare him off—which scared Tilly, who yelped and retreated.

The Doberman slowed but was growling, hackles raised, looking as if he meant to rip out Tilly’s throat. Caroline’s mare was normally a placid creature, but this was too much for her. She reared. Dixie slid off just as the Doberman hurled himself at Tilly.

And Hulk launched himself at the Doberman.

The cat seemed to have come out of nowhere. He landed on the dog’s shoulders and rode him like a bronc buster—only with claws instead of a saddle for purchase. They served him well. The Doberman yelped and yelped again as he began running in circles.

Trouble was panicked, trying to get away. Cole didn’t dare let go, but he wanted desperately to check on Dixie, who was sitting up, cradling her arm. “Are you all right?” he called.

A man came around the corner—large, red faced and yelling. “Dammit, Mustard, I said—hey! Get your cat off my dog!”

Cole swung toward him. “You’re the owner of this animal?”

“Damn right I am, and if he’s hurt, you’ll be hearing from me!”

Hulk made his own dismount, a graceful leap to the ground followed by a bounce up to a high windowsill. Which was probably where he’d come from in the first place. The Doberman beat a quick retreat to his owner, tail between his legs.

Cole, still gripping Trouble’s reins, advanced on the red-faced man, who was checking his trembling dog for wounds. “That dog,” he said softly, “very nearly caused a disaster. What is your name, sir?”

“Ralph Endicott. But you can’t go blaming it all on my poor Mustard. He’s bleeding, dammit!”

Cole glanced down. The wounds weren’t serious, but puncture wounds did need to be treated properly. “Then you’ll take him to a vet.”

“Which you are going to pay for! That stupid mutt running around loose caused all this. Mustard wouldn’t have gotten away from me if—”

“My name,” Cole interrupted, his voice very soft and very cold, “is Cole Ashton. My dog is allowed to roam the grounds of my winery and vineyard. Yours is not. I require the name of your insurance company. And your lawyer, if you have one.”

The color drained from the man’s face. “Insurance? Lawyer? Now, see here, there’s no need for all that.”

“There damn sure is!” Dixie marched up, face glowing with wrath. “Your failure to control your animal is negligent, possibly criminal! I’ve sprained my wrist! I can’t paint with a sprained wrist. Do you know how much this delay is going to cost Louret? My time alone is worth several thousand, and if this messes up their ad schedule, the television time already purchased will run to—hey, come back here!”

But the man was in full flight, one hand gripping his dog’s collar as he hurried back around the building, heading for the parking lot, and escape.

“You’d better take care of your dog!” Dixie hollered after him.

That night, Cole and Dixie lay in a sweaty heap in the bed at the carriage house, talking about Tilly’s adventure. Dixie’s sprained wrist had forced them to be inventive in their lovemaking. The results had been memorable.

“I ought to have sued that man,” she grumbled. “This wrist is going to put me behind.”

Cole was just glad a sprained wrist was all the hurt she’d taken. When he’d seen her go sailing off the mare’s back…“You frightened him badly enough already,” he said soothingly.

“I was just following your lead. Did you see the way the blood drained from his face when you mentioned lawyers?”

“Some people only pay attention when money’s involved.” Like his father. Cole turned the subject. “Tilly’s change of heart is downright spooky.”

Dixie chuckled. “You think you’re spooked. Hulk really doesn’t know how to act.”

Ever since Hulk rescued Tilly from the Doberman, the dog had been following the cat with big, liquid, adoring eyes.

Cole shook his head. “I never saw a cat take on a big dog that way. Pretty smart, getting on his back where the dog couldn’t get to him.”

“That part’s instinct. Usually they only do it if they’re cornered, though. I guess Hulk didn’t want anyone else messing with his dog.”

Cole snorted. “He thought the Doberman was coming after him.”

“Cynic.” She yawned and snuggled closer.

He ran his hand down her hair. He loved having her close enough to pet this way. “There’s an art deco exhibition in Frisco this weekend. I hoped you could go with me.”

“Wish I could,” she said sleepily. “Weekends I stay with Aunt Jody.”

For some reason that surprised Cole. She’d moved back to help take care of her aunt, so of course she’d spend time there. Yet somehow he hadn’t thought of her giving up every weekend…that’s where she’d been last weekend, he realized. When he’d thought she was out playing with her current boyfriend.

He grimaced. His assumptions obviously needed adjusting. “Um…she needs round-the-clock care?”

“She can’t be left alone. Mom stays with her on weekdays—she’s retired now, and living with her fiancé, so she can do that. We’ve got a home health aide who stays with her at night during the week.”

That would add up fast. As delicately as possible he asked, “Is money an issue?”

“Right now we’re managing okay. Aunt Jody had accumulated a pretty good nest egg for retirement, and her insurance covers most of the medical stuff. Not long-term care, though.”

“I’ll go with you this weekend and help.” The offer slipped out unplanned, which made him uneasy. He wasn’t used to making impulsive decisions. But it was the right thing to do…wasn’t it?

Dixie lifted her head, then propped herself up with one arm to study his face. “Are you sure? It’s a lot like taking care of a child. A large, sometimes angry child.”

“I’m sure.” Of course it was the right thing to do. It was the sort of thing you did for a friend, after all. He wasn’t making any kind of commitment, just giving up a weekend. Big deal.

Her slow smile dawned. “Thanks, then,” she said, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Usually Aunt Jody went to bed early, in part because of her medication, but she’d been delighted to have a man around. By the time Dixie washed up in the upstairs bathroom and headed down the hall to the guest room where she and Cole were sleeping, she was exhausted.

Cole had been wonderful with Aunt Jody. When she’d come downstairs for dinner with lipstick smeared in fat circles on her cheeks in honor of his visit, he’d flirted with her gently.

Dixie had had to leave the room to cry. Jody had always been immaculate about her appearance. Elegant.

“Sorry I ducked out on you earlier,” she said as she padded up to the bed.

“I tagged along to help, not to issue demerits. You’re doing enough of that yourself.” He held the covers up invitingly, and she climbed in beside him. “You think you aren’t supposed to have feelings about what’s happening to your aunt?”

“Mama would have just smiled. It doesn’t get to her like it does me.” Dixie sighed and nestled close. “It’s not that she doesn’t care. She does, deeply. She just handles it better.”

Dixie had always loved her mother…but, she admitted, she hadn’t always respected her. Helen had depended on men for so much, and they’d let her down, over and over. Even Dixie’s father had let her down by dying.

Years ago, Dixie had decided she wanted to be like her aunt, bold and independent, not like her mother. She was being forced to see them both in a new light. And herself.

“Your mom handles it differently than you,” Cole said. “Different isn’t better. Maybe it doesn’t hurt her as much to see Jody being childish because she remembers her being a child. You don’t. The only Jody you knew was the adult.”

“Why does she have to lose that?” Dixie burst out. “She built the person she was, year by year, and now it’s all being taken away!”

“I don’t know, sugar.” He stroked her hair. “I don’t know.”

Dixie was silent a few moments. “I get scared. It could happen to me.”

“To any of us. And it is scary.”

Cole continued stroking, and it helped. He’d helped all weekend, just by being there. He’d offered to come here with her, and that meant so much…too much? The quick spurt of fear made her bite her lip. She was relying on him too much, wanting him to be there for her, like this, from now on. That wasn’t healthy…

No, she told herself. Hadn’t she learned anything? She was afraid of relying on others, yes. And maybe she had reason. But pure independence didn’t exist. People had to help others sometimes, but being willing to help wasn’t enough. Sometimes you had to be willing to accept help, and that was a lot harder.

For her, anyway. But watching her aunt had shown her that pure self-sufficiency was an illusion.

Her eyes began to drift shut. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m really tired.”

“Then sleep. You’re not my personal houri,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I’ll survive not having sex for one night.”

That stung, mostly because there was some truth in his assumption that she felt obliged to offer sex. She didn’t like seeing that about herself.

Eleven years ago, she’d believed he was mainly interested in her because of the sex, yet he’d been ready to propose. And she hadn’t had a clue…his fault, in part. He’d pulled back emotionally. But she’d screwed up, too. She’d begun to depend on him, and that had scared her even more than losing him. Leaving him had been incredibly painful, yet easier than staying and facing her fears.

Not this time, she promised herself as her eyes closed. She wouldn’t run away again.

Cole watched the woman sleeping in his arms. In the moon-washed darkness he could see the way sleep erased the troubles from her face. He thought he could even make out a few of the pale freckles on her nose.

Why was she so hard on herself? All weekend he’d seen a woman who found the strength to laugh with Cole at some of her aunt’s absurdities, such as her conviction that they had a king, not a governor, who lived in a castle in Hollywood. Dixie had been endlessly patient, letting the older woman tell the same story again and again, acting just as interested the fifth time as the first.

At one point Jody had grown angry because Dixie wouldn’t let her slice the tomatoes. She’d kicked her niece. Dixie had told her firmly that kicking wasn’t allowed and gone on fixing supper.

Cole had distracted Jody at that point, but how many times had Dixie had to deal with that sort of thing when no one was around to help? And all Dixie could think about was how much better she ought to be handling things.

Had she been like this before, and he’d failed to notice? Because this wasn’t the flighty, inconstant woman he’d remembered…that he’d been determined to remember, he thought with a strange ache beneath his breastbone. This was a woman who would stick by a man…if she truly loved him.

Apparently she hadn’t loved Cole enough.

That was past, he told himself fiercely. They were lovers again, but this time they weren’t in love. At least, she wasn’t.

Cole swallowed. He’d come close, painfully close, to falling for her all over again. He had to pull back. He didn’t want this affair to end with her out of his life completely—because it would end. She’d left him before, and she would leave him again.

Not because she was lacking. Because he was.

But she wanted him. He knew that very surely. And he would use it.

Chapter Ten

Cole was pulling back. Just as he had before.

“I’m still not sure about leaving those two alone together,” he said darkly as he signaled for the turn.

“Relax. Hulk has decided he likes having a groupie.”

“More like an acolyte. Your cat has stolen my dog.”

Dixie chuckled. “He’s never had a dog of his own before. I didn’t know he wanted one.”

She was imagining things, she told herself. Cole liked to keep things light and friendly, yes, but that was no change. Just because he hadn’t spent every one of the past five nights with her didn’t mean he’d lost interest. They were on the way to his cabin now, weren’t they? And he certainly hadn’t looked disinterested when he invited her. He’d promised her a tour, dinner and a fire in the fireplace, and had asked her to wear her blue sundress, the one with the full skirt and buttons all the way down. He had designs on her buttons, he’d said.

She had to be patient. Just because he wasn’t tumbling back into love as fast as she had didn’t mean he wouldn’t fall eventually. It would take time, that’s all. Trust wouldn’t come easily for him.

“You had your suitcase out when I picked you up,” Cole said casually. “You aren’t leaving yet, are you?”

“Hmm?” Dixie dragged her attention back. “No, not for another week or so. My wrist has delayed things. Didn’t your mom tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She asked Grant to stay awhile. He’s going to move into the carriage house, so I’m moving to your old room in the big house. We’d have to make other arrangements soon anyway, wouldn’t we?” she added when he didn’t respond. “I’ll be through with all the preliminary work soon.”

“And then?” he asked in an even voice.

“I’ll do the paintings at my studio.” Trying not to sound insecure she added, “I’m assuming you’re interested in more than a couple of weeks together.”

He hesitated a moment. “I’m up for a longer run if you are.”

It wasn’t the kind of response designed to lift her heart. Anxiety twisted in her gut, but she kept her voice dry. “Try not to overdo the hearts and flowers. You’ll embarrass me.”

In answer he reached out and took her hand. It helped…some.

They reached the cabin at dusk. Dixie was thinking of the other time she’d been here, without going inside. Maybe Cole was, too. He didn’t say much, just opened the door, turned on the light and gestured for her to go inside.

It was not what she’d expected. “But this is fabulous!” she said, turning in a slow circle.

“Thought I’d screwed it up when I said I did the work myself, didn’t you?”

“Partly.” She slanted him a mischievous glance. “And partly I thought you’d go for something safer, more traditional. This looks as if an upscale designer planned it.”

“Don’t insult me.” But he looked pleased. “I didn’t do it all myself—I needed the experts to replace a load-bearing wall with those wooden pillars, and remove part of the top floor over the living area.”

The entire downstairs, save for the bathroom in one corner, was one big room, with half of it two stories high. The stone fireplace was original, he said, but he’d put in the plank floors himself. He’d also replaced the Sheetrock and applied the Venetian plaster. It was a warm terra-cotta with golden undertones. “I’m impressed. I think you’ve invented a new style—European rustic.”

“I haven’t done much to the kitchen, I’m afraid.”

“I’d sort of guessed that,” she said dryly, looking at an avocado-green stove, a refrigerator that belonged in a museum and the single counter covered in worn Formica. “Did you ever learn how to cook?”

“Sure. I can scramble eggs with the best of them.”

“If I didn’t know we’d brought dinner with us, I’d be worried.”

They ate on a thick, faded Oriental carpet in front of the fire—enchiladas from one of Napa’s best Mexican restaurants, followed by strawberries dipped in chocolate.

And wine, of course. A rich merlot from Louret’s vineyards with dinner, and French champagne with dessert. “This did not come from your winery,” she pointed out.

“Nope. But I’ve a fondness for bubbles.” He topped off her glass—again.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Dixie asked, amused. She sipped. “You must be hoping to have your way with me.”

“You know, I believe I am.”

None of the lights were on. There was just the fire to warm his skin with its orange glow, and in the dimness, Cole’s eyes looked very dark, his smile secretive. “You’ve been having fun with your courting games. My turn now.” He reached forward and gently removed the glass he’d just filled. “I think we’ll get started. We’re doing things my way tonight, Dixie.”

Something in his voice tugged at her belly. “I can handle that.”

“Can you?” He leaned in and kissed her softly, lingering over it. “You like games,” he murmured against her lips.

“Mmm-hmm.” She drew a line along his bottom lip with her tongue.

“And you like being in charge.” He pulled back slightly, smiling. “In control.”

“Sometimes.” She threaded a hand into his hair to bring his mouth back.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, still smiling…not letting her have the kiss she wanted. “We’re playing a different game tonight. And you aren’t in charge.”

Her heartbeat kicked up. She raised one eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” He reached into the basket that had held their dinner and pulled out a long red scarf. He played with it, pulling it through his hands like a silky snake. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course.” But her mouth was dry.

“Good. Hold out your hands.”

She hesitated, eyeing that scarf. “What kind of game did you have in mind?”

He just smiled. And waited.

After a moment she shrugged. “In for a penny,” she said, and held out her hands.

He looped the scarf around them and tied it. The silk was cool against her skin…which was probably two degrees hotter than it had been a minute ago. “Bondage. I’ve never…” Her laugh came out nervous. “What do I do now?”

“Nothing.” He leaned in again and kissed her lightly, brushing his fingertips along her throat, light as a butterfly kiss. “I do it all. You aren’t in control tonight, Dixie.”

“I don’t think I’m good at that.”

“This isn’t about being good. Or being good at something.” He reached for her buttons. “I do like this dress,” he murmured, and slid the first button loose. Then the next.

He worked slowly, button by button, all the way down. She sat there with her hands bound in silk and watched him looking at what he revealed. His heavy eyelids lifted slightly to pass her a smile when he finished. Then he parted the dress.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. The way her hands were tied snugged her arms into her breasts, squeezing them together. Her breath was coming faster. “You like?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Oh, yeah.” This time when he leaned close, he bent. He laved one areola slowly with his tongue, then flicked it over the nipple. She squirmed. “Hold still,” he told her, and put his mouth on her other nipple, sucking lightly. “There.” He sat back. “I like the way they look, wet and shiny from my mouth.”

She liked the look on his face. But he was going too slowly, and she wanted to touch him. “I’m getting a little overheated.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “The fire too hot?”

“Something is.”

“Maybe you’re overdressed for the occasion.”

“We could take off the scarf.”

He shook his head. “My game,” he said softly, and drifted his fingertips down the slopes of both breasts to their tips. He took them between his fingers and squeezed rhythmically. “But we can make you a little more comfortable. Why don’t you lie down?”

He was playing with her mind as well as her breasts. And winning. The ache between her legs pulsed along with his fingers. “I…” Am finding it hard to breathe. “You’ll have to let go first. And my hands…lying down is awkward without hands.”

“Oh,” he said, as if surprised. “Of course. I’ll help you.” And at last he looked at her face again—and in his eyes was pure heat. When he leaned close and took her mouth this time, he wasn’t slow and careful.

She kissed him back, half-frantic with the need to touch, yet it was incredibly erotic to be able to touch him only with her lips, her tongue. She felt his hands at her shoulders, lowering her to the floor.

But he didn’t follow her down and cover her with his body the way she craved. When he pulled away, she cried out in frustration.

“Easy,” he said soothingly, stroking her legs, pushing the dress completely apart so that it puddled on the floor on either side of her. “Easy,” he told her again, and put his mouth on her, right through her panties.

She jolted, so aroused that the damp warmth almost immediately brought her to the edge.

Then he stopped.

“I’m going to…” she sputtered, but couldn’t think of the right threat. Maybe because she couldn’t think, period. “Dammit, Cole!”

“You’re not used to this. You aren’t in control at all. I am.” He tugged on her panties, pulling them down an inch at a time.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Briefly his grin flashed. “Define ‘too much.’ I am for damn sure enjoying myself.”

That glimpse of his grin relaxed her, reminding her that this was a game. But she was finding it harder and harder to play. “I’m not sure I like feeling this vulnerable.”

He tossed her panties aside. “How does this feel? Is it exciting?”

He put one finger inside her—and yes, it was exciting. Beyond exciting. She couldn’t keep from moving. Two fingers…“Cole.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” he crooned. “Let me play a little more.” Three fingers, in and out, the rhythm driving her crazy. Then his thumb pressed lightly on her, and she exploded.

Aftershocks pinged through her. She lay motionless, her eyes closed, trying to catch her breath, her muscles wasted…and she ached. Ached fiercely. After a moment she felt him, smooth and blunt, probing at her entrance, and lifted heavy eyelids. He’d scrambled out of his clothes while her eyes were closed, and at last was as naked as she.

“The scarf,” she whispered, holding up her bound hands. “Take it off.” She needed to be able to touch as well as be touched. Needed more than pleasure.

He paused. The arms he propped himself up with were so rigid they shook. There was no play left in his eyes, only hunger and something akin to desperation.

He shoved inside. His face spasmed, and he groaned. And then, with shaky hands, he untied the scarf.

She gasped with relief and reached for him, and they made the last part of the journey together. It was a quick, rough climb, and if her second climax didn’t hit with the force of the first, this one satisfied.

And afterward, with his weight heavy and limp on top of her, she lay there for a long while in the dying firelight, stroking him. Feeling the need to soothe him. As if he were the one who’d been pushed to the limit and beyond.

And she didn’t know why. She didn’t understand at all.

Chapter Eleven

Sweat rolled down Cole’s forehead, stinging his eyes, as his feet thudded on the path near his cabin. He’d forgotten the sweatband—had pulled on his shorts and a T-shirt, shoved his feet into his running shoes and taken off.