The Climax Montana Complete Collection Page 2

  Marci pressed her fingers over the fresh scar running from her right jaw up to her cheek. She’d told the police she couldn’t remember how it got there, perhaps a piece of flying glass from the explosion. The paramedics said it looked more like a knife and she was lucky her throat wasn’t cut. They pushed, but she kept to her story, the one that would keep her out of jail.

  “I can feel as beautiful as I want, Nikki. It doesn’t mean a man would think so.”

  “Not if you keep wearing those baggy jeans. They make you look old and frumpy. There has to be something in that bag from the church donation box that would fit better. Why don’t you put on something more presentable?”

  Marci made a big deal of looking around. They sat by the short kitchen section of the living portion of the tiny apartment. There was a wall within eight feet no matter which way she turned.

  “Gee, Nikki, who’s going to see me here? And why don’t you move to someplace more acceptable? You live over an old two-car garage in a tiny apartment.” She stopped herself before she went too far. Nikki had taken what the town offered. She softened her tone. “You’re not in pre-med anymore. You’re the town doctor and yet you can’t even wash your hair without banging your elbows on the walls of that tiny shower.”

  “The town of Climax, courtesy of Harry Perkins and his maiden aunt, provides this apartment at no cost.” Nikki looked around. “I spend all my time at the clinic anyway.” She narrowed her eyes at Marci. “But we’re talking about you. It’s a good thing your dresses with puffy shoulders and beads were burned to ashes. Out here people dress the same way their grandparents did, though women wear jeans now.” She pointed to Marci. “Ones that fit. Why don’t you let me take you to Dillon to shop?”

  “You know why,” replied Marci. Ted had insisted she dress in style. She’d hated having to look as if she could walk on the set of Dynasty or Dallas and fit right in. What she wore was comfortable, unlike the tight gowns, spike heels, and other excessive fashions required to be accepted in the circles Ted wanted to move in. “And anyway, who’s going to see me except you?”

  “You’ve been here weeks and as far as I know, you’ve never gone out except at night, well covered up.” Nikki pressed her lips together, and then sighed. “Yes, you’re going to have a visible scar for the rest of your life. But you can erase the one on your heart. You survived that fire. That piece of filth you married didn’t. Grab some life and kick up your heels, Marci. Don’t let Ted win. Move on to a better future.”

  Nikki touched Marci’s arm, a gesture of caring she’d been doing since they were small.

  “Now that Ted’s gone,” continued Nikki, “the only way to break free of his controlling influence is to do something totally wild and selfish, against everything he believed in.” She nodded her head briskly. “You’re right about avoiding marriage. You, sister dear, need a short-term lover.”

  Marci’s heart went into overdrive. She’d endured Ted’s weekly sessions because it was part of being a wife. She’d made a vow and, unlike the two men who’d proposed to her mother and then walked out on their responsibilities, she kept her promises. But a lover didn’t require her to do anything but enjoy.

  “You want me to use a man for sex?”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with that as long as he’s willing and medically fit. And,” Nikki added, “has two sets of magic fingers, a mobile tongue, and a long, hard cock. You need to find a man, sister!”

  “But this scar—”

  “Will never disappear. You can’t change that.” Nikki was in doctor mode, which meant blunt. “Just like I can’t change my size. Bad enough that I’m six foot tall. Add that I’m the town doctor, and my chances of finding a husband are slim to none. I’ve accepted that.” She looked away. “We both want children, but since I won’t be having any, I’m trusting that you’ll make me an aunt.”

  Children. The one thing that might have made her marriage tolerable. But they would take attention away from Ted, so were not to be.

  “Marci, Climax is a friendly town. People here care about each other. This is a great place for both of us to start living again.” She took Marci’s hand in a firm grip. “I’m your sister. I want you to be happy, and that won’t happen unless you have a home and children. A husband is optional. Isn’t that what you want? To live your life on your terms, surrounded by love?”

  Marci let Nikki’s love flow into her heart. If she had a child to love, one who would fill the empty places in her soul, she’d not need a man. She wanted one, but he wouldn’t be necessary.

  “More than anything in the world.”

  “I’m not the homemaker type, but you are. And if you end up with a baby and no husband, you could live with me. My salary would cover everything we need.” Nikki’s voice, and enthusiasm, grew with every word. “In return, you’d give me someone to come home to, and a child to enjoy. It would be nothing like when we grew up. Your child would never go hungry, or be scared and alone in the night, or be insulted at school for wearing hand-me-downs.”

  They’d gotten out of that trailer park existence as fast as they could. Nikki used her brain and got scholarships. Marci thought she’d fallen in love with a wonderful man who happened to be wealthy. Now Nikki was a lonely doctor in a small mountain town, and Marci was a lonely widow visiting her. A widow with a raging libido and no power tools. There were a number of sex shops where she used to live, but Nikki said vibrators were not sold openly in Montana.

  “You’ve been here a while,” said Marci. “How are single mothers treated?”

  “Most of the people in Climax are descendents of ranchers and townsfolk from Tanner’s Ford. They love kids and still have the old pioneer values, where people care for each other. I can’t see them treating the child of a single mother badly when so many women have two husbands. I couldn’t do it, as I’m supposed to be a good example. But I could take in my little sister and her baby, and we would be a family.”

  “I forgot about them having two husbands.” Marci shifted on the hard stool. “I found it difficult enough putting up with one,” she said, shuddering. “I’d rather not have a husband like Ted cluttering up my life again.”

  “Few men are as bad as Ted, so forget about him. Are you going to find yourself a man to enjoy?”

  Marci’s heart skipped a beat before pounding against her ribs. Her pussy throbbed with need, swelling and releasing fluid to help a hot cock slide deep inside her.

  Could she? Oh, God, she wanted to.

  Marrying Ted, her first boyfriend, right out of high school meant she’d never been touched by a man who wanted to please her. Ted said he loved her, but on their wedding night she learned his love of himself left little room for her, children, or even a goldfish.

  “Men have recreational sex, why not you?” urged Nikki. “After all this town must be named Climax for a reason. It’s full of ranches, and that means cowboys.” She paused, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have a thing about cowboys?”

  “I was fourteen!”

  “Fantasies don’t change that much over time.” Nikki held up her hand as if she knew what she was talking about and Marci shouldn’t interrupt. “Cowboys tend to be dominant men, which means they’re perfect for lovers. They’re strong enough to do whatever they want with the women in their lives, and confident enough to make sure the lady enjoys it. The good ones want a woman with just as much grit, to stand beside them.”

  “If I had grit, I’d never have married Ted, or let him walk over me.”

  “At seventeen you were a lonely girl desperate for affection. But you’re thirty now. Time to release the strong woman inside you. The one that craves a powerful man.”

  Did she want a powerful man? Ted was a petty tyrant who counted on her to do everything menial. Anything that might gain praise, was his responsibility. Unless it failed. Then it was her fault.

  She wanted a man she could count on. One she didn’t have to prop up. An assertive man who could cuddle a c
rying baby, wrestle a steer or a burglar to the ground, and make her scream in multiple orgasms. If they really did exist.

  Nikki was right. It was time she broke free of her past. Refusing to break her wedding vows hadn’t stopped her from fantasizing about hot sex. Her body throbbed with anticipation and lust. Could she fulfill her fantasy of writhing on a bed while male fingers and mouths danced over her eager body until she demanded a thick cock fill her and bring her to screaming orgasm? Face heating, she crossed her arms to hide her rising nipples.

  “Climax is filled with hot cowboys who work hard and play harder,” said Nikki. “I bet you could find an eager stud to show you what you’ve been missing.”

  “What about you?”

  They’d made a vow when they were young, that they would not end up like their mother, raising children on their own because men who promised marriage, lied. Marci solved the problem by marrying just after her eighteenth birthday. With Marci and their mother’s full support, Nikki had put all her energy into school.

  Their vow not to have sex outside marriage was made mostly for financial reasons. Times had changed. There were a lot more single mothers now. Since Nikki had an income of her own, and wanted Marci to live with her, they could be a family of three. Their vow was not longer relevant.

  “I don’t need a husband,” said Nikki. “I have a very full life caring for my patients. You, on the other hand, need a hot stud to rock your world. And don’t try to deny it. I can see those nipples poking out of your shirt.”

  Marci didn’t need to look down to know they were hard. She could feel the tingling. “So? From the blush on your cheeks, I expect you want a hot stud as well.”

  “The curse of a pale complexion.” Nikki ruefully fluffed her short curls. “Yes, I’d love a big, strong man to fill my bed, but not at the expense of my career. But we’re talking about you. Wild sex with a hot cowboy or two will cure you of Ted. Then you can move on with your brilliantly satisfying life.”

  “You’re a family physician, Doctor Meshevski, not a magician.”

  “You’re my sister, and I love you. That trumps everything.”

  Nikki was right about her thing with cowboys. But it wasn’t just the boots, hat, body, and hip-rolling swagger that drew her. Ranchers had to be tough, decisive, and strong-willed to survive in the harsh Montana environment. Yet on some of her late-night walks she’d watched them laugh as they roughhoused in front of the Climax Roadhouse. She’d delighted to see such big men tossing each other in the snowbank, like children. Their ability to laugh in the face of adversity was equally as attractive as their physiques. After tamping down her enthusiasm and spontaneity for years, she craved a touch of adventure and passion.

  No more sitting with knees tightly together at a formal dining table with her hair up, silk skirt down, and mouth closed. She wanted to be stripped and laid on that table where she’d demand rich chocolate sauce be poured over her belly. She’d provide the main course as they licked her clean, inside and out. For after-dinner entertainment they’d flip her over and haul her to the edge of the table where a thick cock would impale her. Maybe she’d hold another one tight in her fist and guide it into her mouth.

  Her imagination had got her through a cold, dry marriage. It was time for a dose of hot, wet reality. Her purring pussy agreed. No doubt about it. She needed a man eager to help her explore these cravings. She wasn’t looking for a husband so didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t to be accepted. Any man who wanted her would take her as she was.

  “Hot sex with a stranger, huh?”

  “That’s my prescription,” said Nikki.

  “Maybe I will change.” Marci plucked at her pants. “Just in case.”

  Chapter Two

  “You waited to drive here until you finished shopping? What were you thinking!”

  “I was thinking the feed store closes at six.” Simon MacDougal glared back at the irate female doctor. Normally he’d walk away from an obstinate woman who wouldn’t listen. Unfortunately, he was lying in a bed with a cast from his toes to his balls. “Since this place is open all night, I figured a sore leg could wait.”

  “A sore leg?” Doc’s deep voice rose along with the color on her face. “Mr. MacDougal, I haven’t read your chart as I just came on shift. But that cast suggests a broken leg.”

  She had to be six feet tall. It went well with her big breasts, a waist narrow in proportion, and hips as broad as an axe handle. Any man brave enough to get her into bed would have his hands full. He knew one or two who’d be eager to tame such a female. Though he’d gone way too long without a woman, she was not his type. He liked them quiet, amenable, and lusty. Even better would be someone who was a good cook and housekeeper, who’d be delighted to raise their children on his family’s ranch.

  Unfortunately there weren’t any of that type around. By the time he and Lance had realized their so-called fiancé wanted nothing to do with living in the middle of nowhere, all the available women had been snapped up. Working full time on the ranch did not allow a man a chance to find a woman.

  He bet the furious doctor could barely boil water, unless it was to sterilize her scalpels. Her home would be a mess as she’d never be there, too busy working with patients. She’d never stay home with her children. Not with her career bringing her everything she wanted.

  “Didn’t figure it was broken,” he said. “I stepped on a rock and felt a jab in my leg. Didn’t hear a rattle, but that jab made me jump as if I was snakebit. My ankle gave way, and I fell. I heard something snap. I figured it was a stick until I tried to get up.”

  “My staff gave you a full leg cast, so you must have broken something.” When she blew air out of her mouth her bangs fluffed. “You should have come straight to a doctor, not messed around for hours.”

  He scowled back at her. “I wasn’t messing around, I was working. Broken leg or not, a rancher’s animals come first. You’d best learn that if you plan to live in Climax, ma’am.”

  He gave the Doc the same innocent look he’d used on Great-Granny Beth Elliott when she caught him stealing a cookie. She always laughed, called him a scoundrel, and ruffled his hair. He was seven when she died just after her hundredth birthday, still laughing and giving the male doctors a wink. He wasn’t going to wink at this doctor. She tapped her pencil on the clipboard where the sweet young thing at the desk had written down everything he said when he came in. That would teach him not to tell a woman his business.

  “Mr. MacDougal,” she said, reading from the chart in her hands, “according to this report, you fed and watered your horses after your accident. You then got in your truck and drove, not to the nearest medical facility, but to the store for some fence posts and wire.”

  “That’s not quite right,” he said, correcting her. “My truck’s got a stick so I drove to the J Bar C and got their new automatic. Good thing I hurt my left foot.”

  Her face got even redder at his interruption. He sighed and decided to read her the riot act. His father had taught him to be polite to women but this one had to understand reality.

  “Ma’am, since you’re obviously a city gal, I’d best explain a few things.” He pointed to the locker where they’d stashed what was left of the clothes he’d worn. “There’s a Stetson and championship rodeo buckle in there that proves I’m a Montana rancher. Fifth generation, in fact. Ranchers are proud of getting the job done, no matter what. It doesn’t matter a dang what the weather is, or if you’ve stubbed your toe, or got home from an all-nighter just before breakfast. You cowboy up, saddle your horse, and ride out anyway.”

  She gave him such a bland look that he didn’t know what she thought. He decided he might as well give her both barrels while she was listening. It might save some other guy the same runaround.

  “You might have noticed that ranchers wear jeans and cowboy boots. Your battleaxe nurse cut my new jeans in pieces and then sliced open my perfectly worn-in boot. How the heck can I work without my boots?”


  The Doc leaned over. She gave him the most patronizing smile he’d seen since the last election.

  “But that’s just it, Mr. MacDougal,” she said in a fake perky voice. “You’re not going to work. Your job is to put your foot up and let it heal. Nurse Anderson did her job. Be glad you had her expert hands on you.”

  She straightened up when he scowled.

  “That’s the last time Brenda gets her hands on me!”

  When he’d arrived at the clinic in the J Bar C ranch’s truck a nurse had rushed out with a wheelchair. They recognized each other at the same time. Brenda’s lip had curled and he’d realized he was toast.

  It started the first day of school when he tugged on the blue ribbon in her hair. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but she’d turned and punched him in the nose. He still didn’t know who was more surprised. Everyone laughed so he had to show her. Since he couldn’t hit a girl, he pestered her. Every day he had the chance, he’d pull that ribbon off. She’d try to hit him but he’d jump away, laughing at her red face and teasing how she got their mutual ancestor Gillis’ short temper, while he got the sense of humor. Each year the ribbon tying her braid was farther down her back. She cut it as soon as she left home for nursing school.

  But that was long ago, when they were kids. He was the second son back then, the one that would inherit nothing and always have to work for his perfect older brother. He had nothing to lose, so thoroughly enjoyed his life. Brenda was the sheriff’s daughter, and since Max Gibson was always telling his fathers what Simon had been up to, he didn’t mind pestering the daughter.

  When she hauled out that knife tonight he’d told her not to destroy his boots. When she insisted, he’d accused her of getting back at him for grade school, that she was jealous he never tried to kiss her. She’d given him a look that reminded him of Uncle Riley’s stubborn old mule and sweetly suggested he keep his mouth shut.

  Shutting up wasn’t something he was good at when riled. Nor did he have the patience to lie around on a bed when he needed to get home. Five o’clock came early and he had chores to do. Donny and Keith Adams would do them if he asked, but they had four little ones to care for, along with Aggie and the J Bar C ranch chores.