Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Cowboy Time

Ah there's something about a cowboy. The dust? The long hard hours at work? Beer and tobacco? Puh-leese. We're talking about the fantasy here. Not the sexy smell of cow poop in the morning...

What is it about them that fires our imaginations and our...ummmm...urges? Let's see:

1. They HAVE to be in good shape. That doesn't suck. We like men with nice muscular bodies from long days of hard manual labor. Duh!

2. They have to be proactive and problem solvers. Animals, weather, and Mother Nature in general are volatile conditions, and the person who makes his living in that situation has to be able to think on his feet.

3. They spend a lot of time alone--probably aren't real talkative and needy.

4. Won't fight with you for closet space or steal your appointment at the salon, either.

5. They're used to taking care of living things, to understanding the natural wonder of life and connecting with others. In other words, anyone who's nice to his horse, probably isn't an ass to his woman.

I could go on, but face it...we're talking about an idealized fantasy world, and that's okay. So here's a little taste of my latest cowboy, out now at The Wild Rose Press:

All the Way Back
By Cindy Spencer Pape
A Wayback, Texas story
From The Wild Rose Press

Buy link

Blurb: Drew Lawson left Wayback for the army a long time ago. Now he’s back, a little older and a lot wiser, but the past still haunts him. Music teacher Annie Zykov had a crush on Drew when she was a kid, but what she feels for the man is something else entirely. With Annie’s help, can Drew come to grips with his past and learn to face the future? Is love what it takes to bring him All the Way Back?

With one step he pressed her back into the closed front door of her apartment. Annie wrapped one leg around his when she felt his hand on the flesh of her bottom. Her soaked cotton bikini panties were no hindrance; his fingers slid right underneath. Then he flexed his hand, squeezing the globe of her cheek. His fingertips were so close to her aching core she wanted to cry.

“Inside, Drew.” She wasn’t talking about the apartment. She let one of her hands trail down to slide between their straining bodies and cup the bulge behind his fly. God, he was impressive. She couldn’t wait to have all that pushing into her, filling the empty space in her body and soul. Desperate, she fumbled with the buckle of his belt.

Drew responded with another groan, and his fingers slid down between her cheeks to the wet heat between her legs. He tore his mouth away from hers, leaving her gasping for breath as he trailed his lips down her throat. He didn’t have a hand free to push her shirt out of the way, so he simply took her breast, clothing and all, into the wet heat of his mouth.

Annie almost exploded then and there. She did let her head fall back against the door as she cried out his name.

A mournful howl split the night—from the door right behind Annie. She didn’t register it for a second as she was busy opening the button fly of Drew’s jeans.

The howl got louder. Drew pulled his head up and gave her a dazed look. “What the hell?”

Then she heard a door open on the side of the main house. “Anya? Are you all right?”

“Shit!” They both hissed the word at the same time, both drawing it out into the three-syllable sound only a true Texan can manage. Drew snorted a laugh and Annie giggled.

Another howl from behind the door.


“I’m fine, Dad,” she called. “It’s just Bubba getting impatient while I say goodnight to Drew.” She saw Drew wince as he fumbled to fasten his jeans and belt. “Sorry,” she whispered.


“Yes, sir, Mr. Zykov,” Drew called. “Annie dropped her keys and I was helping her look for them. She’s all set now.”

“Anton Zykov, get back in here and quit bothering your daughter.”

Oh, fabulous, now Mama was into it too.

“But—” her father protested.

“Now, Anton. Goodnight, Annie. Goodnight, Drew.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Zykov,” Drew called, his voice shook with repressed laughter. “Mr. Z.”

The door slammed, but Annie knew her father would be watching for Drew’s car to leave. Bubba howled again. “Damn that dog.”

“Well, he’s a good bodyguard,” Drew said wryly, stepping back a foot or so. He brought one hand up and cupped her cheek, which was probably bright red, even in the dim glow of the porch light. “I didn’t mean for things to get this out of hand. I’m sorry.”

She mustered a smile. “Don’t be. I told you I was a big girl. You’re still welcome to come in, if you want to brave getting drooled on by my bodyguard.”

He shook his head. “No. You don’t want to get tangled up with me, Annie. I know my father may have tried to make it seem otherwise, but believe me. I’m nobody’s idea of a hero.”

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