Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Clarissa Read online

  Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Clarissa

  Mel Teshco

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Clarissa

  Mel Teshco

  Welcome to the heart—and heat—of Australia…

  They say that no one has secrets in a small town—these women prove them wrong.

  Eight brand-new stories from some of Australia's hottest writers in Australia's hottest genre. From the bar stools of the local pub to the wide open plains of the biggest stations in the world, these tales travel the dusty roads to the heart of Australia and the women who understand how to work hard—and play even harder.

  In the latest in the wildly successful Secret Confessions series from Escape Publishing, the women of Down & Dusty invite you into their lives—and their bedrooms.

  Clarissa may have been daydreaming about her head stockman, Brandon, every day and night of the long, hot drought, but Brandon has never been anything more than friendly and professional, and Clarissa has long accepted that life will never imitate fantasy. Until Brandon recommends an old friend—a renowned bullrider and stockman—for a job, and suddenly Clarissa finds herself in the middle of a competition between two of the hottest men that she’s ever seen. But Clarissa doesn’t fancy herself a prize—and with two cowboys willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy, she might just decide that the winner takes all.

  Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty

  Reading order

  1. Casey—Rachael Johns

  2. Lucky—Cate Ellink

  3. Kelly—Fiona Lowe

  4. Brooke—Eden Summers

  5. Clarissa—Mel Teshco

  6. Skye—Rhyll Biest

  7. Maree—Elizabeth Dunk

  8. Frankie—Jackie Ashenden

  About the Author

  As a rather quiet, introverted child, Mel Teshco would never have believed it possible she’d one day be making a living writing hot, erotic stories and meeting so many other wonderful writers. She can most often be found at her computer, giving into her children and/or cats demands and occasionally/often drinking home brew, which brings out her sociable (i.e. loud) side. Her long-suffering husband is still waiting for retirement.

  Acknowledgements

  To Tracey O’Hara for her editing prowess and to Kate Cuthbert for believing in my writing.

  To those who find love in the most unlikely of ways.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Episode 5—Clarissa

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…

  Episode 5—Clarissa

  Clarissa Langdown ignored the relentless heat of yet another summer in outback Queensland. Just the same way she ignored the red dust and patchy yellowed grass that desperately needed soaking rain.

  Instead, she scraped a wisp of platinum-blonde hair back under her Akubra hat, hooked a worn boot between the post and rail fence of the round yard, and focused all her attention on Brandon Flynn.

  Head stockman and all round good guy.

  She swallowed back a gusty sigh of admiration as she watched him ride her once-skittish paint mare with gently voiced commands and soft hands. He didn’t break in horses. He used natural horsemanship to work with the animal’s instincts rather than against them.

  With quality stockmen in such high demand, she knew Brandon was worth his weight in gold. After her husband, Dean, had been killed when his motorbike hit a kangaroo on the Landsborough highway, she’d assumed the head stockman would leave for better pickings and less stress. Instead he’d thrown his lot in with her, become indispensable in every way.

  Except one.

  Despite the heat, she shivered. She’d been a widow a little over twelve months now and loneliness had crept up on her like a thief, stealing what little comfort and passion she’d once found in her husband’s arms. Though, in the end, even that had faded as they’d grown apart, and it’d only been their shared love of the land that had kept them together.

  Little wonder she’d taken the time to appreciate the supple strength of the stockman, his soft yet firm hands on the reins. She could only imagine what his touch would feel like on her bared skin, her breasts and her—

  ‘Clarissa, is everything okay?’

  Brandon’s drawled query snapped her back to the present with a start. He’d brought the mare to a standstill a metre away, and his long, denim-clad legs straddled the saddleless mare with practised ease. She gulped and dragged her stare past the blue of his light cotton shirt and the golden-brown of his moist throat, before snaring his dark eyes, with their long sweep of even darker lashes.

  She managed a smile and adjusted the brim of her hat. ‘Of course, everything is fine. I just wanted to check on your progress with Gem.’

  He nodded. ‘She’s coming along great.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘You’d make a nice profit from her at the sales.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. She’d already sacrificed far too much to keep the twenty-two thousand hectare cattle station viable. But the drought was sucking dry the landscape as well as her bank balance. It had only been her husband’s life insurance that had kept things going.

  Gem was one of a dozen stock mares she wouldn’t be selling, mares she hoped to breed to Brandon’s black standard-bred stallion. Because without decent riding stock, she might as well kiss her home and all her hard work goodbye.

  She swallowed back the dismal thought. For now she still had a station to run and bills to pay. But the cattlemen she employed were no longer enough. She needed another set of capable hands. A handyman willing to help out with the thousand-and-one odd jobs around the homestead.

  Apparently that someone was a long-time friend of Brandon’s. Adam Marshal had agreed to haul arse from the rodeo circuit to lend a helping hand, with the added benefit of giving his battered body a well-earned break.

  She only hoped he was as competent as Brandon claimed.

  At least her new handyman wouldn’t need to fix the home paddock fence. She’d ticked that off her to-do list a few days ago, and had the aching muscles in her shoulders and the cuts on her hands to prove it.

  Brandon shrugged, though his stare seemed to see right through her. ‘She’s your horse.’ He swung off the mare and brushed the reins over her head, before leading the mare the short distance to the post and rail fence where Clarissa waited. ‘But I think you’re right. She’d make a perfect mount for you.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s what I’m hoping.’

  Even when her husband had been alive, she’d never been a sit-on-her-hands type of woman. When Dean and the stockmen had mustered cattle she’d often joined them. She loved soaking in the great outdoors, even the dust and the flies that came with droving the big-humped Brahmans.

  Now with her old bay mare retired and grazing peacefully in the home paddock with a handful of other aged mounts, Clarissa needed a work horse ASAP.

  Brandon’s dark-brown eyes warmed with a smile that flashed white teeth and twin dimples. ‘If you want to take her for a ride, I’ll be taking out Buck tomorrow and checking the water levels of Redclaw River.’ His expression sobered. ‘If we don’t get any rain soon …’

  He didn’t need to say it. The water supply was getting drastically low. Already five dams and two bores had run dry, and she was fearful every other day that the last of the bores, which were scattered strategically around the property to fill the troughs, would also dry out. The river evaporating would be the final kick in the guts.

  She’d been born and raised in the tiny town of Milpinyani Springs, and had never once known Redclaw River—which ran
through the town and many of the stations—to be at such critically low levels.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Sure, I’d love that.’ She’d focus on riding Gem. There wasn’t a lot she could do with the water situation, except pray for rain like every other resident in Milpinyani Springs and the surrounding areas.

  The sudden far-off roar of a motorbike broke the still air, and Brandon’s teeth flashed stark white against his tanned face. ‘Sounds like Adam’s here.’ He arched a dark brow. ‘We might have to make that ride tomorrow a threesome.’

  Her breath hissed, before she sucked the oxygen right back into her lungs. Her hormones were damn near out of control to hear the word threesome as something so intimate.

  Damn, she really needed to get laid so she could get on with her life again!

  Brandon chuckled. ‘I guarantee he won the Milpinyani Springs bull riding purse … even if it half-killed him to do it.’

  The rodeo was the biggest event on the calendar for Milpinyani Springs, but with her station taking up so much time and effort, she’d only managed to stay for half a day to watch the campdrafting and barrel races. She hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the renowned bull rider.

  As the roar of the motorbike—a Harley—closed in, Brandon slipped off Gem’s bridle and unlatched the nearby gate to let himself out of the round yard. Clarissa fell into step beside him, and they traversed the short stretch to the homestead’s driveway of compressed gravel, which helped keep the dust at bay.

  She swept a quick, assessing glance to the right, where the far-off cattle yards stood vacant, as did the stockmen’s housing that was only a hundred yards away from the homestead. The men were out checking the cattle and fences, along with the bores and pasture. They’d probably be gone for a few days at least.

  The station’s three working dogs, red kelpies with attitude, pulled themselves from under the shade of a quad bike and ran toward the Harley, barking furiously.

  Brandon whistled the dogs and, as one, they turned and obediently loped back to his side. She smiled wryly. The man really did have a way about him. Come mustering time, the kelpies would once again be indispensable under his command.

  Brandon gave the adoring kelpies a pat and then sent them back to their shady resting spot. But Clarissa’s attention was already diverted by the silenced Harley and its rider.

  Adam swung a leg off his bike and unwound his long frame to his full, magnificent height. Wow. He wasn’t the short, wiry bull rider she’d expected; he was at least six-foot-two of lean muscle mass and broad shoulders. Then he pulled off his helmet and her mouth dropped open.

  A black leather jacket contrasted vividly to his sun-streaked blond hair, which fell just shy of his shoulders. A square-cut jaw with light stubble completed the tousled look, while a crooked nose just added to his tough aura. But it was his sky-blue eyes that pulled her in, hypnotised her.

  She barely noticed his limp as he swaggered toward them, his white teeth gleaming behind lips that were surely too soft and full for someone so tough. His stare brushed over her slowly, appreciatively, before he turned his attention to Brandon.

  The men did some back-slapping and chortling, and then Adam pulled back and said, ‘Good to see you, man.’

  Brandon grinned. ‘It’s been too long.’

  Adam nodded. ‘It sure has.’ He turned to Clarissa. ‘And this gorgeous piece is the station owner, I assume?’

  She arched a brow. ‘Last time I looked I wasn’t a piece.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Sorry, I’ve been hanging out with rodeo guys for too long.’ He looked anything but sorry. He stuck out a hand. ‘My name’s Adam.’

  She clasped the warmth of his callused hand, trying to ignore the ping of awareness shooting up her arm. ‘Clarissa.’

  He held her hand a few seconds longer than necessary and said, ‘I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.’

  She leant in almost involuntarily. ‘Oh?’

  Brandon snorted and she jerked back guiltily. But Brandon’s frown was directed at the other man. ‘Ignore him, Clarissa. He’s a player and knows exactly the right things to say.’

  She bit into her bottom lip as warmth flooded her body. She imagined the bull rider would know all the right things to do too.

  Adam stroked a hand over the blond stubble on his chin, his stare gauging the stockman. ‘I seem to recall a time when you were a player too.’

  Clarissa blinked at the newcomer, intrigued despite herself. ‘Really?’

  Brandon shrugged. ‘Guess I ride horses more than women these days.’

  Adam smirked. ‘I ride bulls, doesn’t stop me with the women.’

  Clarissa’s mouth dried and her hand fluttered to her throat as her mind filled with a whole erotic book of dirty thoughts. Flaming hell, she really did need to get laid.

  Brandon’s frown encompassed her too, as though he’d been witness to her naughty daydream. But the hand he swept out was for Adam alone. ‘As you can see, there aren’t any groupies out here.’

  Adam turned to Clarissa and sent her a wink. ‘True. But as far as I’m aware, there is one very available lady.’

  Clarissa gasped. After a long drought inside her bedroom as much as out, Adam’s frankness was an adrenaline shot in the arm. She craved the physical and emotional connection of two bodies joining, skin on skin. Needs that were amplified by the testosterone pressing in on her from all sides.

  Brandon didn’t see it that way. His hands fisted at his sides and he stepped closer to Adam, a muscle in his jaw ticking. ‘She’s nothing to you other than your boss. Leave her the hell alone.’

  Clarissa’s stare narrowed. Why was Brandon pulling the knight in shining armour routine on her now? He’d never reacted negatively to another man’s interest in her before.

  Maybe because I’ve never been interested in return?

  Adam put his hands up. ‘Whoa, easy, mate. We’ve never fought over a woman before, even one as lovely as Clarissa, and I’m not planning to start now.’

  Brandon stepped back and blew out a slow breath. ‘Fuck. Sorry.’ He shook his head as if clearing it. ‘I’m just … she’s been through hell and back these last twelve months.’

  Adam’s eyes cleared before he pressed a hand to his bare head. ‘Jesus, Brandon, why haven’t you two—’

  ‘Don’t,’ Brandon said with quiet authority. ‘Not now.’

  Clarissa hardly dared breathe. These men were like two stallions in their prime fighting over the same mare. It was enough to make her head swim with hope and her pussy moisten with anticipation.

  ‘So when is the right time?’ Adam countered.

  ‘When Clarissa damn well says it is!’

  Clarissa put a hand on Brandon’s upper arm, not even bothering to pretend indifference to his warmth and strength. She could all but feel the passion throbbing through his veins, see it in his intense dark stare.

  Her belly fluttered. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t been alone in her yearnings. Couldn’t believe it’d taken another man’s interest in her to learn the truth. She swallowed past the boulder in her throat. ‘I think it’s time you both chilled out over an icy-cold beer.’

  Brandon nodded and she released his arm and dragged her stare away from his to once again feast on Adam. ‘Brandon will show you to the stockmen’s quarters.’ She glanced at the Harley’s saddlebags. ‘I’m sure you have a few personal possessions you’d like to put away.’

  Adam shrugged, reverting to carefree and casual. ‘What can I say, I travel light.’

  She nodded, both relieved and oddly disappointed at how quickly things had returned to normal. ‘I’ll see you both at the house in half an hour.’

  ***

  Boot treads on the verandah stairs and the creak of the front screen door gave Clarissa plenty of warning that Brandon and Adam were once again about to assault her senses. She only hoped she’d be better able to handle herself this time around.

  Talk about wishful thinking.

&nbs
p; The moment they entered her kitchen, her pulse thudded a frantic beat in her ears and her mouth dried to arid proportions. Both men had showered and changed, and they looked fresh and almost a little … impatient. They were hatless—their hair still damp from a shower—and in worn blue jeans and tees. Brandon in green and Adam in flecked grey.

  Damn, they were a wet-dream come to life.

  As they each took a cane stool at the kitchen countertop, she dragged her stare away to open the refrigerator door and grab a trio of beers. ‘I hope full strength is okay?’

  Adam accepted his with a nod. ‘It hasn’t killed me yet.’

  She tilted her head to one side. ‘I’m betting a bull might have come close, though?’

  He took a swig of his beer and sighed with enjoyment before he admitted, ‘Yes. More than a few times.’ He grinned. ‘Half a dozen fractures, three concussions, spinal trauma and a broken leg. But every second of pain was worth it for the rush of adrenaline alone. And then there was the cash prize and prestige at the end.’

  ‘Not to mention the willing women,’ Brandon drawled without heat.

  She exhaled slowly, her whole body unwinding. Whatever the trouble that had brewed between them, it looked to be resolved, or at least met grudgingly halfway.

  ‘So your bull riding days are over?’ she asked Adam.

  He looked at her over the top of his beer, the blue of his eyes warming like flame. ‘Despite my body’s many injuries, quitting isn’t a part of my genetic makeup … at least, not until I find someone worth dragging me away from the sport.’

  Her pulse skipped a beat. Holy crap. Was he actually considering her as a suitable candidate?

  Warmth rose in her face even as she mentally shook her head. Idiot! They hardly knew one another’s name, let alone any possibility of happy-ever-afters. Besides, Brandon had always been the one to fill her daydreams—even before the loneliness of being a widow had crept in.

  It had to be Adam’s brazen charm that set something off inside her.