Anything for a Cowboy

It was undoubtedly the WORST place for a car to break down.

There she was, trapped in the middle of the Arizona desert in the blistering heat, miles from civilization. She had no cell phone reception, and though she'd remained in the same spot for hours, no one had passed by.

She was dizzy with dehydration and her water bottles had emptied over an hour ago. As she dreaded the thought of dying and having vultures pick at her corpse, Aeryn found herself bent over her car, trying to make head or tails of what was under the hood.

That's it

she thought, glaring at the contents with confusion,

the second I'm back in society, I'm taking a course on auto repair...IF I get back to society

she thought helplessly.

Aeryn found the whole situation incredibly irritating. She may have been a writer, but she wasn't the pampered sheltered stereotype. She could build a fire, cook a meal from almost nothing, and beat the shit out of a man nearly twice her size.

To be at the mercy of the Arizona desert was the greatest of insults. She was a modern woman after all. Aeryn knew what to do in a crisis and yet, here she was, stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, where she was undoubtedly going to die... and all because she wanted to write a fucking cowboy novel.

"Arizona is great!" her father had told her. "You'll love it there."

Her Dad had gone to summer camp in Arizona, so of course he was filled with happy memories.

She was en route to meet the friend of her editor, one Doctor Wyatt Destry, aka Doc Wyatt, who owned a ranch in the area. Given the distance she was expected to travel, the area in question was massive. The car broke down in the middle of the day, three quarters of the way there, and nearly ten miles from the nearest town. As the sun was setting, she admitted that while this place was likely to be the last thing she ever saw, it was beautiful.

Pulling her head out from under the hood, she paused and admired the view.

The sky had darkened to crimson, with the rich blue of night just along the edges. In the middle of her view, the sun in all its brilliance was sinking below the horizon, darkening red clay coloured hills that stood proudly against the fading light.

She had her head under the hood when a solitary figure crept up on his horse.

***

The first thing he saw was a pair of long, denim clad legs and a shapely behind sticking out of the hood of the car.

"You need help, darlin'?" he asked.

The woman's head popped up at the sound of his voice.

He heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking bone and her rapid fire curses as she hit her head on the hood. Her hand snapped out and grabbed the hood of the car before it could fall on her.

The arm that held it was long and lean, the skin smooth and tanned. The hand that grabbed the hood was narrow, with long fingers liberally stained with grease. The woman was muttering under her breath as she quickly emerged from beneath the hood and angrily slammed it down.

The face that looked up at him was all strong bones and honeyed skin, topped by a head of short dark hair streaked by the sun and sticking out in all directions. Her lips were full, her eyes dark and piercing despite a near comedic smear of grease on her forehead, and there was a pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on her cute nose.

She wasn't exactly beautiful.

The short hair, combined with the slanted eyes and cheekbones made her look more like a Star Trek character. Nonetheless, Wyatt felt a tug in his gut as he let his eyes slide lower, down the length of her slender neck, over her collarbone, and generous breasts encased in a green T-shirt emblazoned with: "Stop Looking for a Pot of Gold... Get a Job!"

Between the hem of the T-shirt and skin tight jeans was a tiny stretch of gold skin his fingers suddenly itched to touch.

Then he got a good look at her face... she looked tired, worn out, and there were signs of sunburn.

The eyes watching him were dizzy and faint.

Dehydration, he decided, and possibly heatstroke.

"You here to save me?" she asked dizzily, her eyes shining with an almost child like hope.

Despite instincts honed in med school, Wyatt chuckled as he retrieved his canteen.

"I guess I am." he said, unscrewing the cap. No sooner did have the cap in his hand when she snatched the canteen from him and took a long swig. Then she paused, her eyes narrowing.

"Gatorade?" she asked in confusion.

"Better for dehydration, Darlin'; car break down?"

She swallowed another gulp of Gatorade and glared at him.

"Nope, decided to drive out into the middle of the desert and stay in the blistering heat

just

to see if I could!"

The writer

, he decided, reading her sarcasm instantly.

His old pal Arnold Green had conned him into taking her on for a few weeks so she could study "The Cowboy Way". He wasn't told much beyond the fact that she was tall-ish and lanky, and could put a man in his place with a word. Arnold hadn't mentioned that she had a killer body and that even in lousy circumstances she had a sense of humour.

"That's mighty dumb of you, Aeryn." he said, delighting in the shock and temper that flashed in her eyes. "You'd better drink more of that, and while you're at it, give me your car keys."

"Why?"

"I'm going to lock up your car. You're coming with me."

"My clothes, my laptop." she whined.

"We'll get 'em tomorrow, honey." he promised her as he dismounted. He knew her type well enough to know it was the dehydration talking.

"Who are you?" she demanded suddenly. "You're not going to kill me and leave my corpse for the vultures are you?"

"Wouldn't be very hospitable of me if I did." he said. "I'm Doc Wyatt. You'll be livin' with me for the next few weeks."

Without a word, she reached into her pocket and handed him the keys.

***

So this

, she thought hazily,

is Doc Wyatt... all six three of him

.

He'd ridden up to her on his massive mahogany steed in a black Stetson, denim shirt, and jeans that fit a man the way they were meant to: not overly tight, just fitted enough to show off his butt.

And this butt, she thought, watching him bend toward her car, was gorgeous! The kind meant to be cupped by a woman's hands during healthy sex.

Aeryn had initially thought he was some incredible mirage.

The man was a dead ringer for a young Paul Newman: blue eyes set in a tanned face with a straight, manly jaw, full lips, cleft chin, and a strong forehead. His body was all broad shoulders and lean muscles. His legs were long and strong enough to master the giant horse he was expecting her to ride.

"You on any meds?" he asked in that heavy drawl.

"Huh?" she'd been too busy ogling him.

"You on any meds?" he repeated, tilting the rim of his hat to study her.

"Just the pill." she said matter-of-factly, unsure why that would embarrass her. She was dehydrated, tired, and probably sunburned. She had no business fantasizing about the man she'd be living with for the next couple of weeks.

The man in question nodded.

"Where?" he asked.

"My purse, front seat of the car." she replied, feeling increasingly light headed.

She saw him get it before he efficiently locked up the car. He put her purse in his saddle bag and mounted his horse.

"You coming, Aeryn?"

"Yeah." she said, eyeing the horse a little uncertainly.

She'd never ridden one before.

"He won't bite." he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. He leaned down from the saddle and offered her his hand.

Unwilling to embarrass herself any further, she put the canteen on her neck, grabbed his hand and awkwardly swung into the saddle in front of him. The gasp, she told herself, had everything to do with the height of the animal, and nothing to do with the knowledge that his crotch was snuggled against her.

***

And damn if she didn't feel good there.

As he steered Boxer back to the ranch, his cock rose to attention. It wasn't his fault, he told himself. This was a purely physical reaction to soft female flesh bouncing against him with Boxer's every move.

Oh hell! Who was he kidding?

He inhaled the scent of her hair, some kind of floral shampoo mixed with the heady scent of sweat. It was an odour that reminded him too much of sex, and at the moment, sex with Aeryn sounded like a pretty good idea.

Down boy, he told himself, hoping his body would capitulate. Every press of her ass against his crotch had Wyatt inhaling a breath. He worried that pressed as intimately as they were, she'd notice.

Then he heard the lightest of snores and the rhythmic sound of her breathing. He realized much to his relief that she was sound asleep.

***

"C'mon honey, wake up and drink this, will you?" a voice asked.

Aeryn felt the press of a plastic bottle against her lips and a strong arm lifting her shoulders. She was on a bed of some kind, and wiggling her toes, she realized he'd removed her boots. Her hand lifted to snatch the bottle from him and as her eyes opened, she realised much to her relief that he'd left her glasses on.

The face that swam into view was just as gorgeous as she remembered, and feeling a little unsteady, she snatched the bottle from him and took a long drink.

She nearly groaned with pleasure.

It was water, ice cold and sweet.

"I'm not a baby, Mr. Wyatt." she said, sitting up. A sudden wave of dizziness had her head reeling. The perfect gentleman, Doc Wyatt took the bottle and put his arm around her for support. Aeryn had to fight the urge to snuggle.

"I'm sorry." she said wearily. "I've been a total bitch since we've met, and all you've done is help me. I'm Aeryn Salma." she said, offering her hand in absurd formality.

"I know." he said, putting down the bottle to shake hers. The hand that held hers was large, with wide palms and long, narrow fingers, the skin textured by years of hard work. He'd removed his hat, the hair beneath was a dark reddish brown cropped short.

"You're Doc Wyatt?"

"Wyatt to you, drink more water, Aeryn. There's a bathroom off to your left. You should shower."

"Why? Do I stink?" she asked, bending to sniff herself.

She didn't, but Wyatt didn't say as much. He simply pressed the bottle of water to her hand and watched the long line of her throat as she drank.

"Finish the bottle and then take a shower. I put some aloe vera in there if you need it."

She stared down at herself for a moment and then winced.

"I don't suppose you have anything I can change into, huh?"

Though covered with dust and grease, her shirt and jeans were skin tight. As far as he was concerned, she couldn't look any better unless she were naked.

"My room is down the hall." he heard himself saying. "Take whatever fits. I'll go and rustle you up some grub."

"Thanks." she said.

She chugged the remains of the bottle, and with a stubbornness he admired, Aeryn forced herself to her feet.

"You need help, honey?" he asked, watching her stagger toward bathroom.

"No, I think I can get my clothes off just fine thank you."

"You sure? I'm damn good at it." he HAD to say it; it was that prissy tone of voice.

She paused in the doorway and straightened, audibly sucking in a breath. He could swear he saw a hint of wariness as she stared back at him.

"As tempting as that sounds, I've got sunstroke, and we're going to be stuck together for a while." then she smiled at him with the easy arrogance of a femme fatale. "It's a shame, though. You are one fine piece of ass."

When his mouth dropped open, she slammed the door in his face.

***

On either side of the door, both Aeryn and Wyatt let out long breaths.

Was he just ribbing her, or had that been a come on. It had been so long since she'd played the so called game that Aeryn couldn't tell anymore.

She'd been tempted, no, BEYOND tempted, to take him up on his offer, and even now resisted the urge to throw the door open and tell him she'd changed her mind.

Then she gave herself a mental slap.

She barely knew the man, she had heatstroke, AND she was stuck with him for the next two or three months. And for all she knew, he'd only been teasing.

With that thought in mind, she turned the shower to lukewarm and tried to purge thoughts of those strong hands and sexy drawl.

It was a lost cause.

No sooner did she close her eyes then his face appeared with shocking clarity: those blue eyes staring hungrily into her own. As her soap slick hands slid over her breasts, it was his hands she felt, forcing a moan from her lips. Her nipples tightened, and as her hands slid between her legs and teased her clit, it was his fingers she wanted on her, teasing her to madness. She needed relief if she was going to face him across the dinner table, so for the next agonizing minutes Aeryn let her fantasies run wild.

She imagined how his lips would feel on her neck and breasts, and pictured the flex of his strong muscles. She dreamed of the scrape of stubble, and the heady thrust of his cock inside her, making her scream.

While she stood beneath the spray, her fingers worked her clit in rapid circles. Orgasm came in a violent rush, her muscles tensing, a scream tearing from her throat as her core convulsed over and over again.

It took several moments for her to come down from sexual euphoria, feeling vaguely calm again, she shampooed her hair and rinsed the soap from her body. She slathered on some aloe vera, wrapped a towel around herself and made her way down the hall to his room.

There wasn't much to Wyatt's room: a massive four poster bed, a single chest of drawers, and a night table. She opened the chest of drawers and found a T-shirt and pair of shorts. A pragmatist to the core, she refused to acknowledge the double entendre in wearing Wyatt's underwear as she dropped the towel and threw the shirt and shorts on.

The shirt dwarfed her, hanging nearly to her knees, and the shorts barely hung on her hips, but it was enough to leave her completely covered.

When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Wyatt had just put the finishing touches on a salad and roast beef sandwich. The food had her mouth watering, but before she could thank him, he turned to her and stared.

She swore she could see a wash of colour beneath his tan.

Those deep blue eyes zeroed in on her like a laser and he slowly licked his lips, as though picturing her naked.

A woman would have to be deaf and blind not to see the intent in his expression. The calm from her orgasm vanished instantly. Images of her pinned to his bed flashed in her mind, and she bit her lip against the sudden rush of arousal.

Wyatt smiled slowly, arrogantly, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking... as though he intended her to think it.

"Thank you for supper." she said squeakily, seating herself at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Welcome." he drawled.

He moved to the fridge because he couldn't look at her. He'd heard every sound she made, and knew that she'd done more than showered.

All he could think of was her body arched, wet, and naked, and her heavy breathing while she teased herself to orgasm. Did she penetrate herself? Or did she just tease her clit with those tiny fingers?

Wyatt looked over his shoulder.

She was absurdly focused on her food, as though he made her nervous. He decided to test it, not because it was wise, but because he couldn't resist.

God knows she was already driving him crazy!

It was time for a little payback.

With that thought in mind, he approached her, a glass of water in hand.

"Aeryn?"

She jumped and nearly choked on a mouthful of food.

"You shouldn't sneak up someone like that!" she snapped.

"Sorry Darlin'." he lied, resisting the urge to skim a second look at her legs. They were long and shapely, with just enough muscle definition. "But you need to drink. I'm guessing you lost a lot of fluid."

He held out the glass, and she took it with muttered thanks. He guessed it was the devil that waited until she had a mouthful of water before saying:

"I heard what you did in the shower."

Like a scene in some bad movie, Aeryn choked and spat water halfway across the room.

It took everything he had not to bust out laughing.

"You must be some kind of pervert to press your ear to the door while someone is in the shower!"

"I didn't press my ear to the door. Fact is, I didn't need to." he said, charmed by the outrage tinting her golden skin. "You have nothing to be ashamed of... we all do it."

"Thank you for your understanding." she said sarcastically.

She hoped he would consider the matter closed, but he didn't.

"What I wonder is why you would do it now, when you're wiped out and sufferin' from sunstroke."

"None of your damn business!"

"Were you thinking about me?"

Oh would he shut up!

"Don't flatter yourself!" she said, praying he'd finally shut his pie hole and let her eat in peace.

"I don't think I am, Aeryn." he said, moving toward her.

He paused just behind her chair. She could feel his heat against her back. Though she only knew him for a couple of hours, his scent was fixing itself in her memory: fresh air, horses, man, and smoke.

It was addicting, tightening her nipples and weakening the muscles of her inner thighs. Against her better judgement, she inhaled, slowly taking him in.

"Turn around." he said softly.

"I don't think that's a good idea." she said, her voice sounding unusually high.

"Chicken."

When a gauntlet was thrown down, Aeryn was honour bound to pick it up. With a deep breath, she let her feet drop to the floor and turned around, tilting her head up with cocky bravado.

It took all she had to stay poker faced as Wyatt stared down at her, his eyes heavy lidded and glittering with arousal. His gaze dropped to her breasts, taking in her hardened nipples. A strong, callused hand slid behind her, cupping the back of her neck. The other slid to the small of her back, pulling her against him.

Aeryn gasped; the move brought her hard against his chest, her breasts pressing into him. His hips nudged her abdomen, and she felt the unmistakeable press of an erection. She had no idea what to do with her hands. As Wyatt's hand slid to her ass and lifted her so they were perfectly aligned, her arms slid around him, gripping the denim of his shirt.

"I need to taste you." he said, his voice whisper-soft against her lips. "One taste." he murmured. "To satisfy my curiosity and get me through the night."

Aeryn had no clue what to say to that. It was strangely romantic coming from someone she'd just met. Most men used cheesy lines she could dismiss in a heartbeat. Whether it was it the rumble in Wyatt's voice or the beat of his heart, for some reason, Aeryn believed him, and was utterly disarmed. She moved to wet her lips, but no sooner did she move her tongue then Wyatt's lips were on hers, sucking the blood clean out of her head and sending it in a mad rush down South. His belt buckle was pressing into her and she didn't care. Aeryn couldn't identify his taste, all she knew was that she never got this horny this fast. She heard a moan as her tongue tangled with his and her fingers slid into his hair, all but violent in her demand. Operating on instinct, she tilted her head, offering herself.

"What did you say about this being a bad idea?" he gasped, finally letting her up for air.

"At this point, I can't remember." she said honestly.

In response, Wyatt chuckled and bit back a curse.

"I could let you go now, Darlin'. God knows it'd hurt, but it's probably the adult thing to do."

And there was that drawl.

That alone was enough to make her crazy.

"Yeah, spare us the awkwardness of having to be around each other for the next few months."

"Or..." he began huskily, "we could take care of it now. One night to ease the tension, and then we can go back to doin' the responsible adult thing."