The Boy Toy

Oh, darlin’, she thought with a sudden, unbidden wince of longing. Heat up that branding iron.

Momentarily Allison stopped in her tracks, unable to believe her own runaway thoughts. Normally she scorned down-home aphorisms as well as the entire country and western scene. But this man definitely unleashed something primitive in her. For a moment she was pure cowgirl pursuing her cowboy, corny as that sounded.

Reaching her car, she had to laugh. “What is this?”

He replaced his hat and leaned lazily against her sedan, his mouth assuming its usual sexy quirk. “Service with a smile, ma’am.”

Allison groaned. “I can’t believe you drove over here, in my car, and calling yourself Pete—”

“I am Pete.”

“But the card you gave me said Dave, damn it.”

“That curious about me, were you, sweetheart?” he teased, appearing delighted.

She pulled the card from her jacket pocket and waved it at him. “Explain this.”

“I was just filling in at Dave’s booth this afternoon, so his cards were the only ones handy. Hell, honey, if I’d known you were so desperate to learn my true identity, I would have engraved my name on your heart.”

She shot him a frosty look. “I’m not desperate! I simply prefer honesty from the people with whom I have business dealings. You know, correct names and that sort of thing.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she gestured at her car. “So it’s fixed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a proud grin, he took her arm and led her toward the passenger side. “Hop in and I’ll drive you back to the dealership.”

Despite the jolt of awareness at his touch, Allison dug in her heels. “Hop in? Wait just a minute, cowboy. It’s bad enough you drove my car here without my permission. Now you want to drive it again?”

“And three hours ago you didn’t want to drive it at all.” He tugged her onward and opened her door. “Come on, Ms. Tracy, be nice. If I can drive us back, that’ll save me from having to find a cab at this hour.”

She frowned. “What happened to your work clothes?”

“Oh, I keep a clean change of clothes in the locker room, and often shower after work.”

“Ah, so you can go out and squander your meager salary at honky tonks?” Hurling the taunt, Allison was surprised to watch his jaw harden, and she took some satisfaction in the realization that she had gotten to him.

“You’re a smart-mouthed little snot, you know that?” he shot back. Then his countenance softened to a roguish grin. “But you’ve got my number, too. I’m a hellraiser, all right. Truth is, sometimes when I’m really hard up for cash before payday, the boss man’ll let me sleep on a cot out behind the service bay.”

Allison eyed him skeptically, not sure whether he was pulling her leg or not.

He nodded at the passenger seat. “So are you going to let me drive us back or what?”

Grudgingly Allison slipped inside. “Guess I do need to go back and pay the bill, which I’m sure will be as over-inflated as your ego.”

He shut her door, chuckling as he rounded the car. “You sure don’t cut a guy any slack, do you, sugar?”

“Don’t call me sugar.”

He slid into his seat. “Not that you necessarily deserve it, Ms. Tracy, but there’s no charge today.”

“What? You mean you didn’t fix my car?”

“No,” he replied patiently. “I mean I looked up your service records, and saw that you have been getting the runaround from us regarding your engine problems. Three visits so far, with no resolution. So I fixed your engine under the warranty, and threw in the oil and lube, even gassed her up and got her washed and waxed, as a courtesy.”

“A courtesy,” she repeated carefully. “And what do you expect in exchange for your generosity?”

Again, from the irritation sparking in his blue eyes, she guessed her barb had hit the target. “Perhaps a little civil conversation? Or maybe just your dropping me back at the dealership with my head still attached?”

Allison squirmed in the seat. He did have a point. He may not have cut her much slack, but she hadn’t cut him any at all. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“That’s better.” He flipped on the engine. “Now listen to this baby hum.”

She did, and was pleased by the smooth, powerful rumble she heard. “It’s ticking, but not nearly like before.”

He nodded. “The super lube should do the trick, that and the new ignition module I installed.”

“Ah. So you were right about—”

“Yeah, I was right.” He glanced at her solemnly. “I think in no time this little honey will be purring like a kitten. But if it’s still ticking at your next servicing, don’t worry, I’ll personally tear into your engine.”

As before, his words were loaded with innuendo, causing Allison to unconsciously lick her lips. Tear away, she was tempted to blurt out. “I can hardly wait,” she muttered.

He chuckled and pulled the car away from the curb.

As he eased them into the rush-hour traffic, Allison’s mind was spinning. Yes, he had bedeviled her with his urban cowboy spiel, but it had been awfully nice of him to deliver her car. The engine sounded much improved. Clearly he was hitting on her, but in truth she was far from an unwilling participant. And although he did wicked things to her with his eyes, his sexy banter, so far he’d made no improper physical advances.

Would it be such a crime to get to know him better, especially since they both must know this would never go beyond a romp?

“Hey, maybe you and I should start over,” she murmured.

“Really?” He appeared both shocked and pleased.

“Well, you must admit, that was a pretty crude come-on you gave me back at the dealership. ‘I love how they grow ’em in Texas.’”

“So you’re not from Texas?” he inquired innocently.

Allison didn’t know whether to be charmed or exasperated. “Stop dodging the question.”

“Then you are from Texas?”

She ground her teeth. “As it happens, I’m from—”

“Dallas, right, angel?”

Allison issued a short laugh. “How did you guess?”

He gave a shrug. “You strike me as one of those snooty, Big D girls.”

“Yeah, and you strike me as a hick from the sticks,” she shot back.

Undaunted, he continued. “Let’s see, I’m betting your parents live in Highland Park, that you made your debut at the Idlewild Ball, then went on to SMU.”

Allison felt all color leave her face. “Actually, it was the Tyler Rose Festival, but… How did you know all that?”

He eyed her cynically. “Honey, I know the type.”

“Ah. Mr. Experience speaks.”

“Yep.” His voice oozed a maddening self-confidence. “I could tell the minute I saw you that you were a Big D girl out on the untamed streets of Houston. And still wet behind your ears as far as our fair metropolis is concerned, aren’t you, darlin’?”

“Don’t call me darlin’.”

“Well?”

She sighed. Buckaroo Babe was proving to be a bit savvier than she’d anticipated. But then he must deal with a wealthy clientele at the dealership. Surely she was not the first former debutante he’d come on to….

Realizing he was patiently awaiting her reply, she cleared her throat. “Actually, I’ve only lived here six months. A job transfer. But two of my sorority sisters also live in Houston, and that helps a lot.”

“So you three gals have trendy lunches at the Galleria while you roast all the men in your lives?”

“How jaded you are.” But Allison blushed as she realized he’d again hit the nail on the head.

“I should take you out and show you some real Houston hospitality,” he continued with relish.

“You mean pit barbecue and line dancing? Even in Dallas we have that.” Feeling a bit guilty for her sharp retort, she added, “However, if you really have fixed my car, I think I’d be willing to buy you dinner.”

He swung a broad grin her way. “Are you trying to pick me up?”

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

He laughed, then gestured at the long line of cars stacked before them. “Tell you what. Looks like gridlock from here to the dealership. Let’s go for a drive on the prairie and test her out.”

Allison gasped in mingled shock and fascination. “Are you joking? Go for a drive with you? You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your full name.”

“Pete Chisholm, ma’am.”

“Pete Chisholm?” She rolled her eyes. “I should have known it. A perfect name for a retro throwback like you. In case you haven’t heard, ‘good old boys’ are a dying breed.”

“Bite your tongue, woman,” he scolded.

“Tell me, are you any relation of—”

“Jesse Chisholm of Chisholm Trail fame?”

“Yes.”

“Nope. None at all. And Jesse’s stomping ground was more Kansas and Oklahoma, as I, er, recollect, ma’am.”

She groaned at his deliberately exaggerated drawl. “Sounds as if you personally knew him.”

“You think I’m that much of a relic?” Leaning toward her, he took her hand and just brushed her fingertips against the leather-sheathed gearshift, in a highly suggestive gesture. Voice going low and sexy, he asked, “Why don’t I show you what this classic chassis can do?”

Allison recoiled as if burned. His touching her hand had been totally unexpected, his trailing her fingers over the gearshift blatantly erotic, dissolving her senses in a hot puddle. By all rights, she knew she should smack him silly and toss his butt out in the streets. The problem was, she was already hooked, and she loved what his audacious words and wicked touch were doing to her.

Nonetheless, she managed to hurl him her sternest look. “Okay, we’ll take a little drive. But make another pass like that one, and I’ll shoot you out of the saddle, Tex.”

He only chuckled, grabbed a CD from her millennium collection and inserted it in the drive. Steppenwolf wailed at them to get their motor running.

Allison’s engine was already in overdrive….

4

“YOU’RE GOING to get us a ticket!” Allison protested.

“If I do, I’ll pay for it,” Pete calmly replied.

They were literally bolting down the tollway toward Highway 290, Steppenwolf screaming in their ears. Allison judged Pete was driving at least eighty-five as he whipped through the rush-hour traffic. Her engine throbbed, roared with energy. Allison had no idea her sedate little sedan was capable of behaving like an Indy 500 racer, any more than she’d known that a sexy urban cowboy could make her own motor thrum this way….

But then, look who was behind the wheel. Sexual power seemed to radiate from Pete as he drove. Allison could see it in the intensity of his expression, the tautness of his muscled body, the strength and purpose of his large hands on the wheel, the gleam of pure animal pleasure in his eyes. He was as revved up as the car.

Oh, to have all that raw lust for life directed toward her!

And wasn’t it? The very question made her go weak.

Reining in her errant thoughts, she managed to say, “Okay, you’ve convinced me you’ve fixed my car.”

Pete zigzagged past two slow-moving vehicles. “That’s not all I want to do.”

“Oh?” She swallowed hard.

“I want you to appreciate her, see what she can do.”

Allison grimaced. “Have you ever been tested for mental illness?”

He chuckled. “I could tell when I was tuning her up today that she was dying for a good, hard ride.”

Suddenly Allison was strangling. Everything Pete said was rife with sexual meaning. And her nerves were hardly soothed by his breakneck driving as he vaulted them onto Highway 290 and shot down the freeway in a squeal of rubber.

In a near-futile attempt to keep her head above water, she changed the subject. “You take pride in your work, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

She offered him a conciliatory look. “Guess I was a little hard on you today.”

“A little? A grease monkey, a moron, a creep.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ve been called worse.”

“Well, can you blame me for being suspicious after I’ve been screwed around by you guys?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Screwed around, have you, darlin’?”

Allison felt her face smarting. “You know what I mean! My point is, you did a good job, and that’s commendable.”

He tipped his hat to her. “Hot damn, thank you, ma’am.”

“Now who’s being prickly?” she accused.

“Actually, I appreciate the vote of confidence. And I do like my job.” With deliberate relish, he continued, “There’s nothing like getting your hands on a hot little engine, feeling it purr and throb to life, revving it up and feeling the power surging—”

Now Allison did groan aloud. “Will you stop it?”

“Stop what?” he inquired innocently.

“All the service bay sexual innuendo. I’ve had my fill of it.”

“Sex on the mind, eh, sugar?”

“You mean sex on your mind,” she shot back.

“Lady, I’ve been talking cars.”

“Cowboy, you’ve been talking smut.”

He grinned unabashedly. “But you’re with me, aren’t you?”

Oh, yeah, she was with him. “I’m not with you,” she denied aloud. “We’re taking a drive in the country, for heaven’s sake.”

“Getting hot under the collar, are you?”

She resisted the urge to comment.

“You know, in my granddad’s day, taking a drive on the prairie would’ve been grounds for marriage.”

“My God, you are a dinosaur,” she declared.

“Hey, I’m only twenty-six,” he protested.

“Me, too,” she put in, pleased to hear they were the same age.

He eyed her quizzically. “Really? When’s your birthday?”

“December.”

“Hah!” he declared, full of smug superiority. “Mine’s October, which makes me older and wiser.”

“Get out of here!” she declared.

“Can’t, ma’am, I’m driving,” he quipped, returning his attention to the road. They were heading northwest on Highway 290, leaving the suburbs behind at a fast clip. “You hungry?”

“I beg your pardon?”

He feigned a tone of exaggerated courtesy. “Has madam eaten? Does she have plans for the evening?”

Allison glowered. “No, I generally play catch-up on Wednesday nights.”

“You’ve got to eat, woman. As a matter of fact, there’s a place I’d like to take you to.”

“And where is that?” she simpered. “To a bordello in Hempstead?”

“No, to a genuine restaurant.”

“Aha! So that was your purpose all along? A date?”

“A date?” he mocked. “Hell, honey, you offered to buy me dinner.”

“Now you want me to pay?”

Pete’s expression gleamed with secret pleasure. “I’m not sure I should answer such a loaded question. But as far as buying dinner is concerned, it’ll be my treat.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just say I want to retain the goodwill of one of our valued customers,” he drawled with exaggerated courtesy. “So what do you say?”

She glanced out at a large, barnlike establishment looming ahead on their right, with a huge mural of a bull emblazoned on its side. “I say you’re as full of it as that bull.”

He roared with laughter. “And that’s just where we’re headed, sugar—straight to the bull.” In a cloud of dust, he turned them into the gravelly driveway, which was jammed with pickup trucks and horse trailers.

She stared skeptically at the sign. “Clem’s Corral? Sounds like a cattle lounge.”

He pulled them into a parking space next to a huge fire-engine red pickup truck. “My kind of place. Best chicken-fried steak this side of the Pecos.”

“Oh, brother,” Allison muttered.

CLEM’S WAS INDEED a redone barn, with sawdust on the floors and old-timers lounging at the antique bar. On a far dais, a small country and western band was playing, “The Devil Came Down to Georgia,” while a few brave souls struggled to dance the fast reel. Beyond them a group of cowboys was cheering, gathered around a lurching mechanical bull where one of their numbers was pitching about and waving his hat.

“My Lord,” Allison declared. “I thought Gillie’s burned to the ground years ago, and this kind of scene went out with Urban Cowboy.”

Pete solemnly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s a Dallas girl for you.”

“Oh, hush.”

As they passed the bar, the balding bartender waved to Pete. “Hiya, kid. The usual?”

“Yeah, Joe. Two specials. Two drafts.”

She turned to him. “Wait a minute. The usual? For two?”

His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Sugar, you can’t think I’ve never brought a woman here before.”

Allison waved a hand. “Your gall is unbelievable. I mean you ordered for me.”

He lowered his voice. “Honey, the special’s the only thing they cook here that’s palatable. They serve catfish, but they’ve been out of the tank long enough to grow new whiskers, if you know what I mean.”

“Whatever.” She glanced about, caught several gruff-looking characters staring baldly at her, and tugged self-consciously at her short skirt. “Look, I’m not dressed for this place.”

“Honey, you’re dressed to start a stampede,” he assured her. “Fact is, I’m gonna have to fight every man in here for you. Now let’s get settled at a table before the bulls get too restless.”

Allison shook her head, unable to believe she’d gone out with such a twang-spouting fossil—even if the man was incredibly gorgeous. They seated themselves at a small wooden table off to the side.

A buxom barmaid sauntered up with their beers. “Hi, handsome,” she greeted Pete.

“Hi, Willie. How have the saddle tramps been treating you?”

“Oh, fair to middlin’, and as full of sass as ever.” She inclined her head toward Allison. “See you got another pretty filly on your arm.”

Pete winked at Allison, then confided to Willie, “Yeah, but the lady’s miffed that I ordered her the special. Tell her about your catfish.”

Willie leaned toward Allison and whispered confidentially, “Honey, I wouldn’t toss ’em to a pack of starving coyotes.”

“Thanks, that’s so comforting,” Allison rejoined.

Undaunted, the waitress sauntered away with a swing of her ample rear. Shaking her head, Allison turned back to Pete. “Where did you dig up this place?”

“My folks used to bring me and my younger brother here. I was raised on a ranch in Fort Bend County.”

“Oh, were you?” Allison was pleasantly surprised. So, his cowboy act wasn’t fake. Erin had been right that she might have found the genuine article. It did make sense, she realized. There were a lot of small-spread ranchers in Texas, many of them managing to live just above the poverty level. A rancher’s son might well end up a car mechanic in a nearby large city.

“You know, my new assistant is from Fort Bend County,” she remarked. “Have you heard of the Freshausen family?”

“Rings a bell, but don’t believe I’ve met them.”

“Katie is a real jewel. Just out of junior college, still living at home. But she hopes to be able to move into an apartment in town by the fall.”

“Good for her.”

“And how about you? Where do you live—besides the back room at the dealership.”

“Oh, I got my own little place in town,” he rejoined modestly. “Weekends I generally go home to the ranch for some horseback riding, if I’m not rodeoing.”

“Rodeoing?”

“I ride the bull.”

“You dish it out, too.” Watching him grin, she hastily cleared her throat. Suddenly, she wanted to change the subject to something safer and blurted, “I work out.” Once the words were out of her mouth, she almost groaned—not a big improvement in subject matter.

Again his appreciative gaze raked her. “I can tell. You’re in prime shape, ma’am.”

“Will you stop it with this ‘ma’am’ nonsense? Makes you sound like Roy Rogers.”

“You don’t like me calling you sugar, either,” he groused.

She was about to scold him further when a pretty older woman strolled up, dressed in a blue jean skirt, matching vest, boots and a long-sleeved red-checked shirt. “Why Pete Chisholm, as I live and breathe.”

“Gussie!” he cried, standing and giving the dark-haired woman a friendly hug. “I swear, you’re as pretty as ever.”

Gussie waved a hand. “Oh, quit flattering me, handsome, and introduce me to your friend.”

Pete grinned sheepishly. “Gussie Gutheridge, meet Allison Tracy, lately come to our fair neck of the woods from Big D.”

Gussie offered the younger woman her hand. “How do you do?”

Allison shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Gussie frowned quizzically. “Would you happen to be related to Everett Tracy of Highland Park Trust?”

“You know my father?” Allison inquired in pleasant surprise.

“I met Everett at the governor’s fund-raiser a couple years back.”

Allison flashed Pete a puzzled look, and he spoke up. “Gussie is very active in politics in Fort Bend County, and she’s been the editor of the Fort Bend County Gazette for many years now.”

“Oh, yes,” Allison replied in pleasant surprise. “You know, I was just telling Pete that my assistant is from Fort Bend County. Katie Freshausen.”

“Why, of course, I’m well acquainted with the Freshausens,” said Gussie. “We recently covered Katie’s little sister’s piano recital.”

“I know. She showed me the article. Good work.”

Gussie beamed. “Why, thank you, dear.” Slyly she turned to Pete. “Is this something serious?”

“Gussie!” he chided.

Gussie winked at Allison. “Pete’s quite a catch, you know.”

Allison smiled. She was sure he would be, to the editor of a small-town newspaper. “Yeah, Pete’s a real gem.”

Gussie cast Pete a pointed look. “Should I tell that sweet little Mary Lou hello for you? I’ll be seeing her—and your folks—at church this weekend.”

Pete colored. “Sure. Why not?”

Gussie craned her neck toward the door. “Well, I can see Dan has paid the bill and is likely revving up the truck. Guess I’d best hustle if I want a ride home. Lord only knows where that man was in heaven when they handed out the patience.”

Pete laughed. “Good to see you, Gussie.”

She shook a finger at him. “Mind your manners, boy. Nice to meet you, Ms. Tracy.”

“You, too,” Allison rejoined.

Gussie walked off, and as Pete sat down, an awkward silence fell. “Who’s sweet little Mary Lou?” Allison finally asked, simpering.

“A very old friend,” came the tight reply. “Don’t concern yourself about her.”

“Why should I be concerned?” Allison retorted, too sharply. “I was merely curious. Besides, we’re just—”

“I know, out for a ride,” he interrupted, but with good humor.

The waitress swept back up, depositing their dinners. “Enjoy it, folks.”

Allison’s mouth dropped open and she stared bug-eyed at the huge plate, overflowing with the biggest chicken-fried steak she’d ever seen. The gigantic fritter spilled over the edges, smothered in cream gravy, as were the mashed potatoes and corn. Stacked on the sides of the plate were wedges of Texas toast, and the aroma rising from the combined feast was tantalizing.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Allison exclaimed. “You expect me to eat all of this?”

Obviously having the time of his life, he leaned toward her. “Honey, you shouldn’t discourage a man regarding your, er, oral capacity on a first date.”

She hurled a paper coaster at him, but the devil only grinned. “This isn’t a date. It’s a lifetime supply of cholesterol.”

“What do you care? You’re gorgeous.”

“How do you think I got that way? By eating at these kinds of greasy spoons?”

“No. You work out.”

“And you ride.”

His gaze flicked to hers. “Yeah.”

He was too much! If dinner was a tall order, this guy was Pikes Peak. Allison dove into her meal to hide her scalded cheeks. The food was wonderful. It melted in her mouth. She found herself eating ravenously while gulping down beer.

“You’d think I’d never had a meal before,” she confided.

“Yeah. You ladies with your salads and pasta.” Leaning toward her, he murmured, “I’ve always thought getting her hands on a thick piece of meat awakens a primal hunger in a woman—and I can see I’m right.”

Allison’s gaze snapped up to his. She was shocked and riveted by his loaded comment.