Tina Leonard - The Cowboy Soldier's Sons

Shinny flung a hand over his shoulder, pointing to the back of the shop, Shaman guessed. “She’s probably in the B and B.”

“B and B?” He didn’t want to admit how little he knew about Tempest, but Shinny appeared to be happy to fill in the blanks.

“What we sometimes call the guesthouse. It’s really her home, when she’s in town, which isn’t often. You can go around back and see if she’s in. She’d said she was going to be practicing, but I don’t think she’d mind a break.”

“Thanks, Shinny,” Shaman told the shop owner. He went out the front door and headed around back, seeing Tempest’s car in front of the small adobe house. He knocked on the rustic wooden door, waiting, feeling like a guy on his first date.

It would be a first date, he realized—if he could get her to go out with him.

She opened the door, clearly surprised to see him. His heart hammered as it hadn’t in months, not since he’d known he was coming back to the States, and had landed at the military base almost a civilian.

“Shaman!”

He nodded. “In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t smile, but he didn’t think she was totally annoyed that he’d surprised her, either. Clearly, she had been practicing whatever it was she practiced, because she was slightly glowing. Black leggings and a white top clung to her body so tightly he nearly had a rise just looking at her.

Heck. He did. Shaman shifted, forcing his mind back to his mission. “I figured it was my turn to bring the picnic basket.” He felt sort of silly saying it, but she looked at him with curiosity in her big eyes.

“So where is it?”

Where was it, indeed. “Actually, it’s a picnic basket in theory. I was hoping you’d let me drag you out to Cactus Max’s for a date. I hear that’s the place in town to get great food.”

She blinked. “You’ve never been there?”

He shook his head. “Pretty much I survive on what you bring out to the ranch, gorgeous.”

She studied him for a long moment, which gave him a chance to drink her in. Her blond hair was pulled up in a shining ponytail high on her head, and she wore long, dangling silver earring strands. She looked like heaven, and Shaman began to realize that this woman was much more to him than just an occasional bedmate.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “I’ve probably got something in here I could whip up for you to eat.”

He certainly did. But he knew where that would lead—right into bed. And suddenly Shaman realized that Cupertino—Tempest—had no intention of ever moving their relationship beyond the bedroom. If he succumbed to the red-hot desire fogging him right now, their relationship would never be anything but casual.

And suddenly, that wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

“Look, Cupertino,” Shaman said, “let’s eat out. It’s date night.”

She pursed her lips. “We could have date night here.”

“No. We want to do this right.” He wasn’t going to skulk around with her anymore. If she didn’t dig him the way he dug her, he could deal with that. But it was time to take whatever it was they were doing to the next level.

“What is it that we want to do right?”

He leaned over, kissing her on the lips. “I’m trying to date you, Cupertino, if you’d quit trying to be on top all the time.”

Then he kissed her again, deeply, fully. She tasted like peppermint, and his brain was screaming at him to go through the door into the golden known, finding the pleasure with her that he craved so much. But he was pretty sure she was avoiding him, and he wanted more from her than she wanted to give.

“You make it hard to say no,” Tempest said breathlessly.

“I’m trying to.” Shaman leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms. “I’ll wait while you get dressed up real pretty for me.”

She arched a brow. “You don’t think I’m pretty now?”

“I think you’re gorgeous.” He grinned at her bruised femininity. “I’ll wait outside while you do whatever it is girls do before their first date.”

Tempest studied him, seeming to come to a decision. “It may take me a while. You could wait the better part of an hour.”

“Spoken like a true diva. I’ve kind of heard that about you showbiz types.”

She made a face. “Hope you like waiting.”

He grinned as she closed the door. It was a beautiful night, and he had nothing to do but feel smug about the fact that he was taking out the hottest woman in town. Even if she showered, powdered and sprayed for an hour, he was willing to wait for their first date night together.

She opened the door not five minutes later, dressed in blue jeans with a huge shredded hole in one knee, beat-up brown flats and a T-shirt that had New Mexico Lobos plastered across it. She wore a white cap with a blue Ralph Lauren polo horse on it, her ponytail pulled through the hole in the back. “I’m ready.”

“Absolutely stunning.” He kissed her on the nose. “I can’t wait to take you to dinner, angel cake.”

She took the arm he offered. “Not Cactus Max’s, though.”

“Somewhere fancier?” He helped her into his truck.

“Someplace different,” Tempest said.

“Whatever you want, beautiful. The picnic basket is on your terms tonight.”

Maybe there was an outdoor burger joint in town she favored. In Tempest, he figured just about any place was probably delicious—as long as he was with her.

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER, Shaman had followed Tempest’s directions to a falling-in, run-down shack off the main road. “Here?”

“This is it.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything to eat here.” He got out of his truck, walking up the overgrown path to the ramshackle house, careful to keep an eye on Cupertino. There was no telling what might be hiding in the dense foliage and cactus surrounding the property. It was a mess.

“There never was much to eat here,” Tempest said, pushing open the front door.

Shaman wasn’t surprised to see that it was practically falling off its hinges. “This is a firetrap. Wonder why it hasn’t been condemned?”

Tempest didn’t answer, and he moved a few fallen clumps of plaster out of her way as she moved through the dark foyer. It was as if she was mesmerized. Shaman’s heart beat hard, and for some reason he wished he had one of his guns on him. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling, as it always did before danger hit in the war zone.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, reaching out to grab Tempest’s hand. “Trust me, I can afford to take you to a decent hamburger joint.”

She walked into the kitchen, compelling him to go with her. He was sure he saw something skitter under one of the counters, and wondered why she wasn’t frightened out of her wits.

“Someone’s been here,” she murmured. “Someone’s living here.”

Now he was truly creeped out. “I’m all for excitement, but trespassing’s usually frowned on.”

She turned to look at him. “This is my house.”

He hesitated, glancing around him, trying to square the beautiful woman with the rattrap she claimed was hers. “I don’t get it.”

“This is where I grew up.” Tempest shrugged. “So now you know.”

He pulled her to him. “It was probably a great home in its day.”

“It wasn’t.” She leaned against his chest. “They don’t condemn this house because it’s mine.”

“I don’t think you’ll be living here,” Shaman said. “Although you might consider renting it to the Munsters or the Addams Family. A Morticia type would probably really dig it.”

“You don’t like it? This isn’t your dream home?” Tempest looked up at him. He could see her bright eyes in the darkness, and he wondered why she had brought him here.