“Kiss me, then maybe I’ll tell you.”
“Bargaining again? I might have to punish you after all, little sub.” He rolled over her slightly, just enough for her to get breathless and feel a little dominated.
“Death by kisses sounds nice,” she suggested.
“I think that can be arranged.” And with that he bent his head to hers, delivering more than one kiss she would die for.
Epilogue
EMERYLOCKWOOD, 33, RECLUSIVE BILLIONAIRE AND SURVIVOR OF THELOCKWOOD KIDNAPPING OF TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, IS ONCE AGAIN IN THE NEWS.LOCKWOOD HAS ANNOUNCED HE IS ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED TO CRIME INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISTSOPHIERYDER, 24, OFMANHATTAN,KANSAS.NO WEDDING DATE HAS BEEN SET.
—New York Times, February 3, 2015
Hayden Thorne sat in the front row at the arena, staring straight ahead at the long-lost Fenn Lockwood. He was settling onto the back of a black bull named Tabasco, a ten-gallon hat set low on his head. He bent to stroke the bull’s neck and it tossed its head, furious. She could hear Fenn’s rich laugh even though she was twenty feet away. He turned his head, smiling at something one of the cowboys perched on the railing said, and his teeth flashed white with a cool, predatory, and sexy smile.
Fenn was gorgeous, Hayden thought, in the way only a rough cowboy could be. Damn, he could wear a pair of blue jeans. A woman could lose herself in thoughts of digging her heels into that tight ass while he thrust into her—hard, wild. Hayden worried her bottom lip as the announcer started counting down to the gate release.
“Three…two…one…”
The crowd roared as the gate sprang open and Tabasco rushed out, Fenn on his back. Hayden held her breath as she counted the seconds. If he could get past eight seconds, he’d have a chance at winning the $50,000 prize money. At seven seconds, the bull turned and Hayden caught a glimpse of Fenn’s face. It was white and strained with stark pain.
Something was wrong.
When the bull jerked and kicked again, the glazed look of pain was still etched on Fenn’s face. And it cost him his control.
Tabasco sent him flying through the air. Hayden leapt to her feet as did the other people around her. Fenn hit the sand and his body didn’t move. The bull was still leaping and rearing, trying to remove the flank strap around its lower body. It spun around, caught sight of Fenn’s prone body, and charged.
Hayden shoved past people, screaming for them to move. She hadn’t a clue what to do, but she wasn’t going to let him die. She reached the front railing that circled the arena, keeping the crowds at a safe distance from the activity taking place in the center. Fenn was still stretched out on his belly on the sand. His hat had rolled a little ways away and was rocking slightly in the small night breeze. The bull was about sixty feet away.
“Fenn!” She didn’t stop to think. She just acted.
Hayden kicked out of her Jimmy Choo heels and hiked up her dress and then started climbing the railing.
“What the hell are you doing, lady?” One of the cowboys in charge of the crowds was racing toward her. “Get down! We’re sending in the rodeo clowns, they’ll distract him.”
She got to the top of the railing just as the cowboy jumped to grab her leg. He missed, spat a curse as she landed on the other side of the arena. Her feet sank deep into the sand. She put two fingers between her lips and whistled.
The sharp sound cut through the hushed crowd and the bull slowed, whipped its horned head in her direction. It stared at her for a long second before it turned back toward Fenn. Hayden took a few shaky steps closer and whistled again. The bull, irritated, snapped its head back in her direction.
“Come on, you walking steak. Chase me, not him,” she muttered. If she lived through this, she’d put her fortune to good use and buy the damned bull, then eat it.
The bull rotated its massive body, its hooves kicking up sand as it pawed restlessly and started to trot in her direction. A movement flickered out of the corner of her eye and she glanced to the right, seeing several strapping cowboys and easing open one of the gates close to Fenn. One of the cowboys raised his hand in Hayden’s direction, motioning for her to look the other way. She turned to the left, where a couple of seriously pissed-looking cowboys were opening a chute.
“Work him this way, honey. Get him in this chute and we’ll get you out. The crew on the other side will get Smith out.” As he said this, three rodeo clowns, dressed in ridiculous clothes were running out onto the field, waving at the bull and whistling.
Smith. Fenn’s new last name. She nearly smiled. An ordinary name for an extraordinary man.
Hayden jerked back to herself as Tabasco started to speed toward her. She started to run and nearly tripped. A skin-tight dress hadn’t been the best choice of attire for running away from a charging, pissed off bull, but she’d come straight from the party back home and hadn’t had time to change. She also hadn’t expected to get into a rodeo ring to run for her life.
A cowboy to the left of the chute waved her on as he called out, “Faster, honey! We won’t be able to get you out if you don’t pick up the pace.”
Hayden ran like hell. The thunder of hooves behind her made her feel like she had hellhounds on her heels. She reached the chute’s opening and the cowboy, who’d climbed up the side of the chute, leaned down and grabbed her, jerking her up into his body. They toppled back into the stands just as Tabasco ran below them into the chute. The other cowboys slammed the chute closed.
“Well, hello, honey,” The man she was sprawled on top of grinned at her. He was cute, just like every other damn man in the city she’d come across since she’d arrived here. She pushed hard against his chest. He fell back to the ground with a grunt and a laugh as she got to her feet.
“Damn, I love me a feisty woman.”
Hayden ignored him.
