âWe shouldnât be doing this.â
âMaybe.â He buried his nose behind her ear and nibbled the soft skin. âWant me to stop?â
He continued to kiss her, nuzzling along her jaw to her mouth. Full lips. Soft. Sweet. Just like the woman. He deepened the kiss, waiting for her to open for him.
âGeorgie?â He murmured her name against her lips.
She leaned back and stared at him, looking helpless and unsure.
âSweet pea? What is it?â
âIâve wanted this ⦠you ⦠Iâve dreamed about it ⦠but â¦â
âShh, darlinâ. This is good. Weâre good.â And it shocked him to realize he spoke the truth. This wasnât a simple seduction. He liked Georgie. As a person. And was just now discovering how truly sexy she was. Coming into a relationship from this direction was a revelation. âWeâre more than good, Georgie.â
He recognized her surrender in the way her eyes softened and went unfocused, in the way her arms crept around his neck, in the way her lips sought his and her body pressed against him. âWill you stay with me tonight, Georgie? In my bed?â
* * *
The Boss and His Cowgirl is part of the Red Dirt Royalty series: These Oklahoma millionaires work hard and play harder
SILVER JAMES likes walks on the wild side and coffee. Okay. She LOVES coffee. A cowgirl at heart, sheâs been an army officerâs wife and mum, and worked in the legal field, fire service and law enforcement. Now retired from the real world, she lives in Oklahoma, spending her days writing with the assistance of two Newfoundlands, the cat who rules them all and the characters living in her imagination.
One
Clayton Barron owned the roomâheld the emotions, the very hearts and minds of his audience in the palm of his hand. He controlled them with the power of his voice and the words he uttered with such complete conviction. He was in charge, just the way he preferred it. Heâd been born, bred and raised to be a US senatorâand more. Now into his second term, he stood at the podium of the convention of the Western States Landowners Association in Phoenix, Arizona, and the words rolled off his tongue, his voice infused with sincerity.
Georgeanne Dreyfus, his communications director, had written and fine-tuned the speech. The phrases sheâd crafted pushed all the right buttons for this audience. Just as theyâd practiced at the hotel last night, he paused for a beat then raised his chin and squared his shoulders.
âI understand your frustration. My great-great-grandfather settled the Crown B Ranch long before Oklahoma achieved statehood. He worked that ranch with his own hands. He survived storms, fires, droughts and floods all so he could leave the landâour birthrightâto his children and their children.â He inhaled and shifted his expression to reflect a hint of arrogance. âItâs time we acknowledge our family legacies. We live on the land. Work it every single day of our lives, from sunrise to dark. Itâs time we tell the government to back off. Itâs time they stop tying our hands with their arbitrary rules and regulations. Itâs time we take back what is ours.â
The room erupted into cheers, whistles and loud applause. He basked in the crowdâs admiration. After a long standing ovation, the president of the association crossed the stage to shake his hand and thank him. He glanced toward the back of the room. His chief of staff offered a discreet thumbs-up. The head of Clayâs personal security team stood nearby, his restless gaze scanning the room. Time to move through the crowd, glad-handing his way to the exit. He had an hour to make it from downtown Phoenix out to Scottsdale for his next engagement, a fund-raising dinner with some of the partyâs biggest donors.
His gaze strayed to the indistinct figure standing just off stage. Georgie. He didnât have to see her to picture how she lookedâstraight-cut bangs, her hair scraped back from her face and twisted up in some impossible way, black eyeglass frames dominating her features. Heâd overheard more than one reporter comment on her sexy librarian vibe. Sheâd been there in the backstage shadows the whole time, listening, and more than likely silently mouthing each word as he spoke it. He quirked the corner of his mouth and winked at her. Georgie had been a steady part of his team almost from the beginning. He relied on her to put heart into his words, to spin the press just right. She worked hard for him and he appreciated her efforts. He was lucky to have her at his side.
He cut his eyes toward the back of the auditorium and tilted his headâGeorgieâs signal to head out. As soon as he descended the steps from the stage, Boone Tate, his chief of staff and cousin, appeared next to him. Clay was a firm believer in keeping it all in the family.