How to Rope a McCoy (Hell Yeah!) (6 page)

“Sorry!”
They chimed together and ran off.

“Shit.
Shit. Shit.” Heath sputtered and spit as a fresh cascade of sticky drink poured
off his face and clothes. “Why you little she-devil!” Heath growled.

“Oh,
my goodness.” Cato grabbed a towel and came around dabbing at his body. She
wiped his face, chest, stomach and was rubbing roughly at the stain on his
crotch when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Jerking her head up, she saw him
drawl.

“I
think you got that spot.” She was still patting his growing erection when he
snorted. “Now, look what you did.”

Cato
glanced down, realized where her hand was and that the bulge she’d been
cleaning was now considerably bigger. Good grief! Oh well, she could wilt from
embarrassment or let the ‘new and improved Cato’ shine through. She opted for
door #2.

“Is
it like rubbing a lamp? Do I get three wishes?”

“Ha!”
Heath threw back his head and laughed. “You might not be able to handle the
genie that comes out of that bottle, baby.”

Licking
her lips, Cato let out a long breath. “I’d like to try.” Gasping, she covered
her mouth. This talking out loud business was
gonna
get her in trouble.

Heath
groaned. “Damn, you and I need to have a private conversation…” If this little
hell-cat was half as wild in bed as she was here, he couldn’t wait to get
between her legs.    

“You
lead, I’ll follow, Sundance.” Impulsively, Cato stood on tiptoe and kissed his
cheek, bold as brass. Lord, Edith Vincent would die the second time if she
witnessed her handicapped daughter making such a spectacle of herself.

“Oh,
you’re bad,” Heath whispered. This brown-eyed baby was as hot as a firecracker.
“I think I need to turn you over my knee.”

“Bad?”
Cato edged closer, just till the tips of her breasts grazed his chest. If she
wasn’t mistaken, they both trembled. “Cowboy, if you give me a chance…I can be
downright nasty.”

A
bubble of joy erupted from her lips. Did she just say that? Honestly, the idea
of being draped across his lap made her tremble.

Here
he was, in an erotic Mexican stand-off with the little minx and she wasn’t
backing down one iota. Passion fueled Heath’s blood. “I’m ready to go a good
round with you anytime, anyplace. Just say the word.”  

Her
inner good girl was reminding her that perhaps it would be a good idea to be
introduced before
she
drug him off to have her evil
way with him. But who wanted to listen to her? She’d had her say too many times
before.

“Word,”
Cato said clearly and emphatically.  

Hot-damn!
He was about to throw her over his shoulder and stalk off into the sunset when
Jaxson handed him a towel. “Don’t you think you ought to go change clothes?”
  

“What?”
Hell! Heath glanced around and realized the whole assembly had their eyes on
him and the little fox. “This isn’t over,” he promised her.

“I
don’t want it to be over,” the juicy little doll answered with a hint of a
smile around her pink bee-stung lips.

“I
need to shower and change clothes, thanks to you,” he muttered as he held her
gaze. Mercy! She was delectable, everything about her was perfect. Heath was
starving to death. He ached to touch, taste and smell every inch of her.

Putting
a hand on her hip, she let her eyes slide from his face to his dick, where she
stared at him until he rose to the occasion. “Need any help, big boy? I’ve had
experience, you know, I get myself all slick and slippery regularly.”

Cato
was having a blast! Every sultry, seductive thing she’d ever wanted to say to a
guy seemed to be tumbling out of her mouth.    

“Oh,
you’re something else, aren’t you?” His brother’s rumbling laughter behind him
just egged Heath on. “I tell you what. You wait for me, right here. I’ll let
you show me what all that experience has taught you.”

“Don’t
get lost,” Cato called after him. As soon as he was gone and most everyone had
turned around, Cato let loose. “
Squeeeeeeeee
!” Now,
this was living!

CHAPTER TWO

With
a wicked wink her cowboy stalked away, leaving Cato with an image in her head
that caused all her female parts to throb. Lord, she was horny and the man was
delicious, even when he had raspberry punch dripping off his kissable lips.

Grabbing
Cato by the arms, Savannah nudged in front of her. “What did you do?” she asked
with a shocked but bemused look on her face.  

“I
met a man.” Cato announced, bugging her eyes out at Savannah as if no one was
more surprised than her. “He caught my eye as I was leaving the ceremony. We,
uh,” she giggled, “connected. I’ve decided he’s going to be ‘the one’.”

“The
one?” Savannah asked, suspiciously.

“You
know, my first.” Cato paused to give a little old lady some punch. “He’s
gorgeous, isn’t he?” she mused, still following his progress as he sauntered
across the lawn toward the big house, stopping to talk to several people along
the way.

“He
is a very striking man, yes,” Savannah agreed with a concerned expression on
her face. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

Her
friend’s concern didn’t put Cato off one bit. “No, I don’t.” She smiled. “But I
intend to learn.”

Savannah
frowned, but she had to grin a little also. She was a little worried about her
friend. No matter how much bravado Cato displayed, Savannah knew she’d been
cloistered for most of her life and couldn’t realize how quickly a man could
take advantage of her. “That’s not what I meant.” She patted Cato’s arm. “I’m
just looking out for you.”

“Thanks,
I appreciate that.” Cato hugged Savannah. “You wouldn’t know his name, would
you?”

“You
don’t know his name?” Savannah yelped.

The
only way Cato knew Savannah was overly excited was by her startled expression
which made Cato giggle.

Before
she could reply, a petite brown-haired woman came up and held out her hand to
Cato. “I can answer your question. That’s Heath McCoy, my brother. And I, for
one, am thrilled to make your acquaintance. My name is Ryder.”

“Hello,”
Cato took her hand, “I’m Cato Vincent.”

Then
Cato introduced Ryder to Savannah, who responded with southern gentility as
always. “It’s nice to meet you, Ryder. If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I
need to take care of.” Kissing Cato on the cheek, she squeezed her hand. “I’ll
check on you before we leave.”   

When
Savannah had left them alone to talk, Cato turned back to Ryder. “I guess you
saw our spirited exchange.” She was just now realizing how very public their
bantering had been. Cato was amazed that Heath—God, she loved that name—had
been able to make her feel as if they were the only two people in the world.
“I’m sorry about dousing him with punch. He caught me by surprise.”

Ryder
laughed, pulling another young woman to her side. “I think you caught him by
surprise. This is my sister, Pepper. Pepper, this is Cato Vincent.”

“How
do you do?” She wondered at the amused looks on their faces. “What’s so funny?”
Cato couldn’t hear their mirth, but it was contagious. She found herself
laughing with them.

Ryder
held her chest as if trying to get air into her lungs. “I’ve never seen a woman
stand up to Heath like that. Most people cower in their tracks and you threw
two,” she held up two fingers, “not one, but two cups of punch onto his head.
You’re priceless.”

“I
didn’t really throw them, both were accidental. He just happened to be in the
way.”

Pepper
grew serious. “It doesn’t matter. You made him smile and laugh. We haven’t seen
Heath look that alive in a long time.”  

*  *  *

Heath
tucked his shirt in and zipped his jeans. All he could think about was the
feisty woman waiting for him. She was the most exciting thing that had happened
to him in many a day. Her face was adorable and her body was enticing enough to
wake the dead. He knew he needed to concentrate on Philip and Tennessee and
their important problems, but the voluptuous doll from the punch bowl had shot
his focus all to hell. “I’m coming, baby,” he whispered and he fully intended
for those to be prophetical words for the night ahead.

“Heath?”
A call from downstairs broke his reverie.

“I’ll
be right down.” The voice sounded familiar. Curious, he headed out of the room,
looking over the banister. “O’Rourke?” He broke into a smile. When his family
had helped rescue Aron, he’d been lucky enough to work with some incredible
men, one of which stood before him—former Navy Seal Patrick O’Rourke. “How have
you been? I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Isn’t
everyone?” Patrick waited as Heath descended the stairs. “I saw you coming in
here and my Savannah asked me to come talk to you.”

“About
what?” Walking into the kitchen, he gestured for Patrick to follow. “Let’s get
a beer, Aron won’t mind.”

“Thanks.”
Patrick sat down at the big kitchen table and opened the can when Heath gave it
to him. “I need to talk to you about Cato.”

“Who?”
The name didn’t ring a bell.

“The
woman you just met at the punch bowl.” Patrick’s demeanor was friendly, but
Heath sensed he had something serious to say.

“Okay.”
He was ready to listen.

“I
know she came across as rather aggressive…” Patrick began.

“I
like aggressive sometimes, it makes things easier.”

“Well,
that’s just it.” Patrick leaned forward on the table. “She’s testing her wings.
According to Savannah, Cato is unique. She had a super strict upbringing. That
girl was as close to being a nun without taking vows of anyone we’ve ever met.”

Heath
was flabbergasted. “Are we talking about the same girl? She came on to me like
she did it for a living.”

Patrick
laughed. “That’s our Cato. She’s determined to make up for lost time. Her
mother succumbed to breast cancer recently and Cato is free for the first time
to do what she wants without having to answer to anyone. And before you
question how she could still be under her mother’s thumb and be an adult, well,
just let me say that you’d have to know Mrs. Vincent to appreciate the pressure
she was under.”

Heath
thought he was beginning to get the picture and he could certainly relate. His
choices and lifestyle had certainly been affected by what had happened with his
parents. “So what are you telling me, exactly?”

Patrick
shook his head, wondering if this was a wise move on his part. “All I’m saying
is that she isn’t nearly as worldly as she seems and could be easily hurt.”

“In
other words, Cato is a good girl and will have certain expectations.”
Expectations he could not fill.

“I
can’t speak for her about expectations, Heath.” Patrick drained his beer. “All
I’m doing is relaying Savannah’s concerns.”

Well,
damn.

*  *  *

Cato
was still a bit bemused over the reactions of Heath’s sisters. What did impress
her was how close their family was and how much they seemed to care about him.
Before they’d left, Ryder and Pepper had clued her in on their other brothers
and some of the background with the
Tebow
McCoys
. She was a bit jealous of their big family and the
love they shared. Cato wanted that for herself one day.

A
jerk on the bottom of her skirt drew her attention. The same three little girls
who had caused her to spill the second glass of punch on Heath, stood by her
holding out their cups for a refill. “You three are thirsty little rascals.”
She teased.

“We’re
chasing boys!” one of them announced with a gamine grin.

“You
are? Care to give me some lessons?” Cato leaned over, enjoying their zest for
life.

“Sure,
you pull up your skirt, like this.” The youngest one picked up the bottom of
her flouncy dress. “Then you run really fast and if they try to get away, you
chunk dirt clods at them!”

Cato
laughed out loud. “No wonder I’ve had a hard time catching a guy. I’ve been
going about it all wrong.” After assuaging the thirst of the cute trio, Cato
served a few others, keeping one eye cocked to see if and when her sexy nemesis
rejoined the party. She hadn’t been looking in the right direction, but when
the fine hair rose on the back of her neck and a frisson of excitement passed
over her skin, she instinctively knew he had returned.

Jerking
her head around, she spied him. Yum! Handsome had changed clothes all right.
Gone was the western tux and one would think he would look out of place in
casual clothes, too laid-back for a gathering of this caliber. Oh, no. He
looked like sex in cowboy boots. His tight jeans fit like a dream. She didn’t
know what she wanted to do most or first—examine the cut of the denim that so
lovingly caressed his well-formed ass or cup that intriguing bulge filling out
the area behind his zipper, the one she’d caressed when trying to clean him up.
And Jesus! Look at those shoulders…Cato had to grip the edge of the table to
keep from sinking to her knees. And she had baptized this man in raspberry
lemonade? Hell, maybe next time she could lick chocolate syrup off every inch
of his body.

Grabbing
an unlucky passerby, she coerced the woman into filling punch cups. All of a
sudden, Cato felt the urge to dance.

*  *  *

“What
happened to you, Heath?” Tennessee bit his cheek to keep from bursting out with
laughter.

“I
was ambushed,” he drawled, casting a glance over his shoulder to the punch
bowl. Now that he knew their flirtations shouldn’t go any further, he wanted to
avoid Cato if at all possible. Damn. She wasn’t there. Where did she go? Heath
felt a shudder go through his body. It was like losing sight of a stalking
predator.

“What
was her name?” Philip turned a chair around and sat down in it backward like he
was settling down for some juicy gossip.

“Trouble,
her name was trouble with a capital T.” Now where was she? He looked around
nervously.

Jaxson’s
eyes widened and Heath started to ask what was wrong when he felt a warm
delicate hand enclose his and—YANK!

“Come
on, cowboy. I
wanna
dance.”

Heath
had been standing with his hip cocked, one leg out in front of the other, so
he’d been a bit unbalanced. And when the little she-devil jerked on him, he
almost fell backward, straight into her arms. “What in tarnation do you think
you’re doing?” 

Much
to the amusement of everyone watching, she tugged and he set back like a
stubborn mule. “Come on, I have some things I need to say to you,” she grunted.

“Well,
do it here. I Don’t Want To Dance.” Heath protested succinctly, carefully
enunciating every word. He had enough sense to realize they were causing
another scene, but there were just times when a man had to stand up for his
principals. “Anything we have to say to one another, we can say here.”

Her
antics reminded him of a small dog with a bone. As he groused and griped, it
dawned on Heath that like all women, she was paying no attention to the voice
of reason—namely him. Like most females, she was only hearing what she wanted
to hear. Well, no more! “Stop! Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He grasped
her head and turned her whole body.

And
when he did, something happened.

She
gave him the most brilliantly beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “I think we got
off on the wrong foot, and I want to make it up to you. Please?” Her voice was
sensual and full of promise.

Maybe
it was the hopeful look on her face, or the playful glint in her eye which gave
him pause. He frowned—more like it was the perfect pink lips and the killer
body or the sweet lilt of her voice which made him want to take her in his
arms. But whatever it was, he surrendered. “Okay, I’ll listen, but I don’t
dance.”

“Okay,
you don’t have to dance, just hold me. You won’t be sorry.”

Mercy,
she was cute. Bright flags of color burned in her cheeks. Was she aroused? Just
the thought that she might be turned-on to him sent a shaft of longing through
him. Heath almost groaned at the possibility. God, he had to keep his emotions
in check. Trying to remember what Patrick had said and who he was dealing with,
Heath spoke gruffly. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

A
smattering of applause met his ears. Dammit! 

She
put her hands on his shoulder and pressed her body flush against his. Fuck,
Heath almost lost his mind. Lust unlike any he’d ever felt flooded his loins
and he got a hard-on big enough to drive spikes. He pushed her back a little,
not wanting her to know how she affected him. “All right, you’ve got me where
you want me. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Cato
watched his face, not wanting to miss a word. She was confused. He had seemed
really interested in her before and now—not so much. Behind the punch table, he
wouldn’t have been able to get a good look at her body. Heath probably preferred
model thin women. Oh, well. She could still enjoy the dance. “I want to
apologize to you. Big time.”