good day (82)
 

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Cory blushed, craned his neck, and gazed up at the stars. In a gruff good day (8), hesitant voice he said, "I'm not a real cowboy."
"No?" She let her gaze slide over his body, from the tip of his pointy, dusty cowboy boots, to his Texas tie. Languidly, she asked, "What are you then?"
"A venture capitalist from Chicago." He cocked a half grin at her. "I thought I'd come here to find a good old fashioned country girl."
The irony caught her off guard and she chuckled. "I'm from New York City. I wanted a good old fashioned country boy."
His gaze turned serious as he hauled her back against him. "Too late. . . . I'm staking my claim and I'll fight any of those cowboys that come near you."
"Ditto, Sir. I didn't really fancy living on the range with a lot of smelly cows anyway." She rubbed her aching behind and admitted marlboro cigarettes wholesale, "And I don't ever want to ride that darn mechanical bull again as long as I live!"
Cory laughed. "Done. How about we hold any more talk till morning?" He nibbled her neck as his hands caressed her heated flesh.
All thought fled.
Brazen
Elaine Hopper