A Wild Red Rose Read Online Free Page A

the circuit, some of the best people on earth. Yet another reason why leaving the rodeo for the conniving business world depressed him.
    Renee set the platter aside and kicked off what little covering she had. She stretched her body out full length. Clint watched. He’d never known a woman who had endured a Brazilian wax before. Must have hurt like hell. Most of the girls he knew had bikini waxes to go with low-slung jeans and sexy underwear, but nothing like this. The remains of her pubic hair were a dark auburn shade, not as light and bright as the hair on her head, but she’d been born a redhead for certain. He couldn’t remove his eyes from that little fringe.
    Renee took the small ball of cheese and placed it on her navel. Her stomach was so flat the bait didn’t roll off but sat there in the small dip, a tiny temptation.
    “Enough talk,” she said. “Here mousey, mousey, come eat me.”
    Clinton O. Beck found himself happy to oblige.
    ****
    Just before dawn, Renee lowered a motorized screen over her terrace to keep the mosquitoes off their bare bodies. They made love outside on the hot pink cushion of one lounger, then switched to the orange-covered one leaving some damp spots behind, to watch the sun rise over her garden.
    Thick plantings of bamboo on three sides of the yard kept the first rays from penetrating, but eventually, pots of hibiscus with blooms of red, lemon, and peach emerged from the gloom. An interesting piece of statuary sat in the center of a small, grassy area. Clint assumed it was a takeoff of the Mannekin Pis he’d seen in Brussels, but instead of a small, chubby child urinating into a fountain, the statue of a full-grown man, life-sized, with the body of a Greek god, pissed into an elegant copper birdbath. Both of his hands directed the spray of his giant penis. Water dripped from the sides of the birdbath onto a circle of ferns reminding him a little of Renee’s Brazilian wax job. For a minute, words failed Clint Beck.
    “Never seen nothing like that before,” he finally managed.
    “I studied art in college. The statue is based on a drawing I once made of a—friend.” She’d almost said her personal trainer, the one her first husband had caught her screwing.
    “My first husband, the heart surgeon, Elias Bouchard, hated it. I had to put the thing into storage for a while, but Gerry didn’t mind. He made his money off of oil royalties, and for an older man, was very broad-minded. Too bad he didn’t last. Had a heart attack practically on top of me. Mixed Viagra with his medication. Even Elias couldn’t bring him back.”
    The sun of a Louisiana June boiled up higher into the sky. Clint had a feeling all this information about her rich husbands might be Renee’s way of telling him this had been fun, but now she had to get back to serious spouse hunting. He should return to Bodey’s place, too, and try to get some sleep and a good breakfast before schooling the newbie bullfighters in their moves.
    Whatever possessed him to say, “May I come over again tonight? I think I might have an interesting proposition for you.” Damn, he should have said “deal”.
    Renee didn’t appear to notice the big word usage. “I’m always up for interesting propositions, Clinton O. Beck, but don’t call before three. I need my beauty rest.”
    “Darlin’, you couldn’t get more beautiful.”
    She smiled like a cat full of cream and ready for another full saucer.

Chapter Three
    “You’re going to do what!” Bodey Landrum shouted as Clint Beck helped himself to an oversized portion of scrambled eggs from the breakfast buffet in the bunkhouse.
    “I thought I’d take Renee around on the circuit with me for a few months, try to break her of some of her bad habits. Not that sharing my bed will be any hardship.”
    Bodey lowered his voice since all the students craned their necks to listen in. “If Renee sees that fancy rig of yours, that old Corvette like the one I got back in Texas,