She sipped the frozen drink in order to keep her hands busy. The cold alcohol immediately shot to her brain, creating a painful brain freeze. Soon, however, the whole room glowed with soft colors that melted together. When her glass was empty, another appeared in front of her.
“You with someone?” he asked at one point.
“A friend.” She scoped out the dancers but saw no sign of Eden. She drank another margarita, warning herself to slow down, but it tasted yummy and the man across from her was pulse-rattling handsome. She was at the ball with Prince Charming, and she wanted to be someone other than Ciana Beauchamp, just for tonight.
The band started another slow dance and the man reached for her hand. “Dance with me, pretty lady.”
This time when his arms closed around her, Ciana melted into his embrace, rested her head on his shoulder, and ignored how the room was spinning. In his arms, she felt protected and blissful. The band’s lead singer ran through another oldie, singing, “Let the devil take tomorrow, tonight I need a friend.”
This time when the music ended, Mr. Green Eyes held her at arm’s distance. She was swaying and couldn’t focus. He caught her upper arms. “I think we should go get fresh air.”
“Whatever you say, cowboy.” Her smile felt lopsided, her lips numb.
He encircled her waist, led her across the floor, and outside into the night air. People jammed the pavement and cigarette smoke turned the night hazy. “I think I sipped that last drink too fast,” she mumbled. She’d only drunk too much once before, but it had been in private when she’d sampled too much gin in order to experience what an alcohol buzz felt like and what its appeal might have to her mother. She’d gotten sick.
He took her hand. “Let’s take a walk down by the water, clear our heads.”
She hesitated.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Fear of him wasn’t why she hesitated. Her stomach roiled. What if she threw up on him? “You going to toss me in?”
He laughed heartily. “Never crossed my mind.”
They walked along a grassy bank above the slow-moving water until the sounds of katydids and tree frogs replaced the sounds of the saloon music. She stopped, still woozy, and plopped cross-legged onto the grass. She patted the ground next to her. He joined her, plucked a long blade of grass, and began chewing on it. Ciana flopped backward, fighting to keep the sky from spinning out of focus. Once she regained her equilibrium, she saw that without the competition from the building and parking area, the sky was studded with countless glimmers of starlight.
“Feel better?” he asked after a few minutes.
“Better.” She reached upward as if to catch a handful of stars. “Look at all those stars.”
“You can see more of them in Texas.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“Long as I can remember. How about you?”
“Born and raised in Tennessee.” Moonlight glanced off the planes of his face. “What brings you here?”
“A job. After my folks divorced, my dad took a job near here on a ranch. But a few months ago he had a stroke. Put him in a wheelchair. The man who hired him asked me to take his place.”
“What’d he do?”
“Horse trainer.” He leaned over her, withdrew the blade of grass, and tossed it aside. “What about you?”
The last thing she wanted to discuss was herself. “Just helping my mother run the family farm. Not very exciting.” She chose a blade of grass for herself, tickled his arm with it. “Truth is, I’m comfortable on a tractor.”
That made him laugh. “Can’t say I’ve had a woman tell me that before.”
Ciana giggled too. “Different strokes, I guess.” His mouth looked dangerously close in the moonlight. “How about you? I mean, what do you do in Texas?”
“I ride the rodeo circuit.”
“I knew it!” Ciana rose up on her elbows. “You walk like a rider.”
“How’s that?”
“Just …” She lost her nerve to confess she’d been checking out his backside during the evening. “I … um … can tell.”
He looked amused. “I checked you out, too, the minute you walked in the door. I liked what I saw. Still do.”
His words sent shivers through her but made her feel self-conscious too. Beauchamp rule number something-or-other: Remain under the radar. She peered over at him. “Rodeo rider, huh? Why, I bet you’ve left a string of broken hearts all across the Lone Star state.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Rodeo circuit doesn’t leave much time for breaking hearts. You wrap up one rodeo, load your horse in the trailer, and drive to the next place. Lot of miles in Texas and out west. Roping and cutting. Dropping steers. Racing. I own a great little quarter horse that can do anything.”
“No bull riding?”
He touched her nose with a fingertip. “Do I look crazy? Guy could get hurt on those things. I like horses. Horse and a man can work as a team. Bulls are just mean.”
She liked the way he talked—his accent, his voice, kind yet seductive. “Broncs can be mean. I’ve seen the way they buck.”
“Man can talk to a horse before he rides him. Find out what he’s up against. Horses’ eyes tell you everything you need to know.”
“You ride year-round?”
“Summer and fall. Hire out as a ranch hand in winter.”
She thought his vagabond lifestyle sounded romantic. “And you can earn a living that way?”
“Only need enough money to feed me and my horse.”
She lay down, stretched her arms above her head, closed her eyes. “You going to do that forever?”
How wonderful to be with someone whose world was bigger than hers. She’d spent all her life in Windemere being a Beauchamp.
“Just until I save enough to buy me a little spread in Texas and train horses for the ranching life.”
She felt that life was predetermined from birth. It started from the time that the first Beauchamps, husband and wife, had moved from the farmlands of France to buy the land and make their fortune. She sucked in the sweet summer night air, the smell of grass and clover and the cowboy’s scent of leather and spice, and relished the sounds of the river below. Surely this was heaven.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
She did. “Why?”
“Because I want you looking at me when I kiss you.”
When his mouth met hers, her arms automatically wound around his neck. Her heart thumped as he held the kiss. When he broke away, he traced the shape of her mouth with his finger. “Tasty,” he whispered.
“Again,” she said, smiling.
He obliged.
She felt his hand, calloused and warm, on her bare midsection. An ache for him grew hotter. She wanted all their clothes to evaporate like campfire smoke. She wanted him skin to skin.
He pulled back, taking a ragged breath. “You’re vibrating,” he said hoarsely.
How could he tell?
“I think it’s your phone.”
She gasped, sitting upright. Saved by the buzz. With a shaking hand, she pushed her cell out of her skirt pocket. Eden! Ciana had forgotten about her. “Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Whoa, sounds like you’re running a marathon. Where are you? It’s time to go.”
“I … um … I’m taking a walk by the river.”
“Bored?”
“Not really.”
Silence. Then, “You got another way home?”
Ciana’s cowboy gave her a pleading look and shook his head: Don’t leave yet.
Every fiber of her good sense fought against that look. In the end, she said, “I’ll catch up with you later, Eden.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m impressed. You call me first thing tomorrow. I want details.” Eden hung up.
Ciana’s cowboy grinned and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for staying.”
She pocketed the phone. “I guess I’m not through at the ball.”
He looked at her quizz
ically, then lay back and pulled her into the crook of his arm so that her head rested on his broad, muscled chest. “Let’s take this slower,” he said against her hair.
She cozied up against his body. His heartbeat rumbled in her ear. “Good idea,” she said with a yawn. And she promptly fell asleep.
“I missed you, baby. Miss me too?” Tony bent over the bed and nuzzled Eden awake the next morning.
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window. “I missed you,” she murmured, still half asleep.
“What did you do while I was in Atlanta?”
“Too early to talk,” she said, snuggling into the covers.
“Tell me what you did.”
She was instantly awake. His voice held a warning that she knew well. She looked up at him standing by the bed, a looseness in his body that flashed a danger signal. Tony had eyes everywhere, even in Nashville, miles from Windemere. “I told you. We went dancing. Took Ciana. Arie was supposed to come but she got jammed up at one of her family gatherings.” She saw him tense when she mentioned dancing.
“Have fun?”
The two words were a land mine, so Eden chose her answer carefully. “Much as I could have without you and with Ciana. She’s not exactly a party girl.”
“Did you like dancing with other guys?”
Her heartbeat quickened anxiously. “You told me to have fun,” she said. “I never danced with the same person twice.”
Tony wasn’t a handsome man, but his looks were striking, dark and moody and dangerous. His eyes were as black as his hair, his body hard, compact, and well muscled. “Yes, I did. But I don’t like other guys putting their hands on you.”
“Dancers touch each other. Even square dancers.”
“But no one do-si-dos at a dance hall.” His eyes were marble hard, challenging her.
Eden realized then that someone had seen her and reported back to him. “It was supposed to be Arie’s night, but plans fell through and I didn’t want to be alone.” She shifted, lifted her arms in invitation to join her in the bed. “You know how I hate to be alone,” she whispered.
Desire flared in his eyes, and need for him rose in her like fire in a wind. No one could understand her need for him, because she didn’t understand it. She just knew it lived inside her like a ravenous wolf.
He got into the bed, fully clothed, cupped her chin, stroked her cheek softly. “You’re mine, Eden. You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll never belong to anyone but me.”
A tingle of fear shot up her back, igniting every cell in her body. He was respected on the street because to not respect him was bad for a person’s well-being. And although she feared him, she wanted him, needed him. “Talk’s cheap,” she said, her need supplanting the fear.
His mouth came down on hers, hard and hungry.
Eden first met Tony when she was fourteen. She had crashed a street party one summer night, blocks from her house. Her mother was on one of her manic tears as an evening activity and Eden was in no mood to experience it. At the party, she lost herself in the crowd, older kids and frat and sorority kids from summer term at MTSU looking for a good time. Eden eased inside a house with an open front door, found the kitchen and a keg of cold beer. She helped herself and wandered into the trashed living room. She noticed a dark-eyed guy on the sofa staring at her. His unrelenting stare made her shiver, and she decided to take her beer and return to the crowds outside.
She made it to the front door before a hand caught her elbow. She spun to face a tall girl who looked wasted. Eden vaguely remembered her from school. “Hey, let go!” Eden tried to pull away, but the girl was surprisingly strong.
“Tony wants to meet you,” the girl said.
“I don’t know any Tony.”
The girl ignored Eden’s words and herded her to the sofa, where the man studying her stood and took Eden’s arm. He said, “Thanks, Meghan,” and handed the girl a small baggie.
Eden watched Meghan walk away. Her heart thudded. What had she fallen into?
“Sit with me,” Tony said affably.
“Um … I can’t stay.”
He grinned and pulled her down next to him. “I’m Tony Cicero. You are …?”
He had not a trace of Southern accent, so she knew that he wasn’t from the area. “Eden,” she said.
“Just Eden?”
“For now,” she said, her anxiety giving way to curiosity. He was an outsider, new blood in a town full of guys she’d grown up with.
“You’re very pretty, Eden.”
She raised the beer. “Thanks.”
“You in school here?”
“Sure. What about you? I don’t remember seeing you around.”
“I’m out of school.”
Somehow that made him more interesting to her. He wasn’t the typical high school jock or flake. Jocks and preppie guys bored her, nor was she attracted to rednecks. “You go to MTSU?”
“No. Does it matter?”
“Just asking.” He tilted his head but said nothing. Eden squirmed, but emboldened by the beer, she asked, “So what did you give to that girl Meghan? Drugs?”
“You do drugs?”
“I could.”
“Well, don’t.”
His warning surprised her—was he a dealer warning her off of drugs? It didn’t fit. “I can do what I want,” she answered.
So far she’d stayed away from hard drugs, mostly because of her friendship with Ciana, who just never would, and Arie, who’d spent months of her life taking chemo drugs that made her dog-sick and who swore even the idea of recreational drugs made her want to barf. Eden sometimes sneaked a few of her mother’s tranquilizers, but the pills made her zone out and she didn’t like the feeling. Besides, the pills never satisfied. What she learned to do to herself was cutting. She needed it now. She couldn’t help herself.
“So what do you want, ‘just Eden’?” Tony’s soft question scared her. She feared he’d make a move on her. They were in plain view, so she was hopeful he wouldn’t force her backward on the sofa and paw her.
“To get out of this town.”
“Where would you go?”
“Bigger city.”
“I came to a smaller city. Better survival odds.” He traced a finger down the side of her cheek, sending a tingle along her skin. He was both dangerous and fascinating, but she was mostly bravado. She had some experience with boys, but none with a guy like Tony.
“I … um … gotta go,” she said, hoping he would let her.
His dark eyes buried into her blue ones, but after a few seconds, he stood and pulled her up in front of him. “I’ll walk you home.”
She hadn’t mentioned going home, but suddenly it seemed like a good idea. “I can go by myself. I got here by myself.”
“It wasn’t a request,” Tony said, taking her elbow.
She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know where she lived. He ushered her to the door and down the steps. People parted, staring at them as they passed. This told her Tony was known and also important. At the street corner, he said, “Which way?”
With her heart in her throat, she pointed back the way she’d come. They walked in silence, not touching. When they arrived at her house, she stopped. Every light was ablaze, and for a moment she was relieved that her mother was in one of her hyper moods. “This is it,” Eden said.
Tony turned her to face him, then let go of her shoulders. “Someone left the lights on.”
“Mom. She hates the dark.” Eden’s heart flipped like a Ping-Pong ball in her chest. Now what?
“I’ll see you around, Eden.”
“Maybe,” she said belligerently.
He stepped closer and pulled a card from his pocket. She barely made out the words: Tony Cicero, Security and a phone number. He flipped it over, wrote down another number, and handed it to her. “This is my personal cell phone number. Never share it.”
She took the card, her heart hammering wildly.
“When
you call, and you will call one day, I’ll come get you.”
Dumbstruck, she watched him walk away.
Tony stayed clear of Eden, which baffled and disappointed her. She didn’t call him and swore she never would. She caught glimpses of him from time to time—in the school parking lot just sitting and watching kids come in and out, and now and again, playing soccer with men in the city park—but he never approached her. Eden didn’t tell either Arie or Ciana about her run-in with Tony; it had been so fleeting yet unsettling. Before the school year ended, though, Eden screwed up her courage to approach Meghan, a senior. “Remember me?” she asked.
Meghan was rifling through her locker and glanced down at Eden, her eyes half closed. “The girl child Tony took notice of. I remember you.”
Eden’s mouth went dry. “I-I’m wondering about him. Who is he?”
“Someone you should avoid.”
“No problem there. He hasn’t said a word to me since that night of the party.”
Meghan slammed the locker door. “Look, little girl, he’s out of your league.”
Eden tried again. “Why? Because he deals drugs? I know guys who deal,” she said boldly, wanting to wipe the smug look off Meghan’s face, wanting to let her know that Eden wasn’t “a little girl” who could be dismissed like a bothersome fly.
Meghan snorted. “I’m just trying to do you a favor.”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” Eden snapped.
Meghan rested books on her hip and stepped backward down the hall. “Well, here’s a news flash—Tony Cicero is a drug. Stay away from him. And his products. You’ve been warned now.”
Ciana awoke with a start, found that the sky was streaking red in the east. She was covered with a blanket. Where was she? What had happened? She sat up and felt a pounding behind her eyes that hurt bad.
“Good morning,” a deep male voice said.
She looked over, saw her green-eyed cowboy, and buried her face in her hands as the night before came flooding back to her. He was sitting on the grass beside her, a half smile on his face, which she noted was just as good-looking as it had been the night before beneath the stars when she’d had those margaritas.