everyone.
At least he’d tried.
But then a sudden craving for something sweet had forced him to make a midnight run to the local diner. Word had traveled in the time it had taken to eat one slice of Miss Mona’s unforgettable cherry pie and he’d been screwed.
Or so he’d thought.
But in the days that had followed, Deanie had made no attempt to contact him.
Until the wedding.
She’d spotted him and he’d spotted her. They’d exchanged the usual pleasantries. And then…
Nada.
No stealing glances at him during the ceremony. No bugging him to dance at the reception. No following him home with his favorite pepperoni and jalapeno pizza. No showing up on his doorstep with his favorite silver dollar blueberry pancakes the next morning. No inviting him to the local Friday night football game or Saturday bingo or Sunday morning church.
That had been a week ago. The longest week of his life. He hadn’t slept. He’d barely eaten. He’d spent his time thinking. Worrying. Wondering. What the hell had happened?
Suddenly, his gaze collided with a pair of sizzling blue eyes fringed in dark black lashes. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her full, pink lips pulled into a tight frown. Her shoulders were rigid, her movements stiff as she sidestepped in front of the seat next to her and stepped purposely into the aisle.
She looked ready to explode, and not in an orgasmically good way.
That’s it, buddy. She’s over you. And once she gets in touch with her sexuality at Camp E.D.E.N., she’ll be on to bigger and better things and she’ll really be over you.
His gut tightened and it took all of his effort to keep the smile on his face from hardening into a frown. So she wasn’t tagging along after him like she used to? It didn’t mean she wasn’t still wildly attracted to him.
She still wanted him, all right.
He knew it. He felt it.
Even if she was doing a damned fine job of hiding it.
Remember your objective—intercept and turnaround.
While Deanie had every right to lead her own life the way she saw fit, her older brothers felt differently, particularly Rance’s longtime friend and best bud, Clay. The man was frantic. Not because his baby sister couldn’t make her own decisions and switch jobs, or even cities, if she felt like it.
But enrolling in a sex camp?
Clay had been ready to follow her himself, despite the fact that he was going to be a father any minute. But then Rance had shown up and volunteered for the job.
“You don’t have time for this.”
He could still hear Shank Murphy when Rance had dialed him up en route to the airport. Shank was the chief marketing director for Extreme Dream and Rance’s business partner. He’d had a fit when Rance had told him that he wouldn’t be flying back to Austin today because he had to do a favor for an old friend.
“You have to come back today. You’ve got to pick up your gear and catch a plane tomorrow in order to make personal appearances for the upcoming competition.”
“Pack and ship my gear and I’ll pick it up when I get there.”
“Tomorrow. You have to leave tomorrow. I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing.”
“I’ll be there.”
Which meant he had twenty-four hours to talk some sense into one very stubborn Deanie Codge.
He’d wanted to sling her over his shoulder and haul her off the plane the moment he’d set eyes on her, but that would have just made her mad. He didn’t want her mad. Mad meant stubborn, which meant she would do anything just to spite him. Including booking herself on the next flight out the minute his back was turned. No, he wanted her stuck so that she would have no choice but to listen to reason.
A sex camp, of all things. While the setup had looked respectable enough when he and Clay had looked it up on the Internet, Rance could only imagine what really went on at a place like that.
In fact, he’d spent the better part of the cab ride to the airport imagining it, and so he’d been pretty worked up before he’d seen her board the plane in her skimpy dress and do-me high heels.
Seeing her up close and personal, smelling the sweet sent of vanilla and sugar that still clung to her, hearing the slight breathlessness in her voice when she spoke worked him up even more. He knew then as he stared up at her that he wasn’t just here because of his friendship with Clay.
Deanie had been the one constant in his life. The one person he could count on to always be there. The one person who’d really liked him. The one person who’d cared.
The only person.
She couldn’t not be attracted to him anymore.
Particularly since he was about to bust his pants at the sight of her.
He tamped down his lust, shifted in his seat and put on his game face.
“Hey, there, Teeny.” He grinned when she reached him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She glared down at him. “I’m going to kill you. First I’m going to shoot you, then I’m going to skin your sorry hide, and then I’m going to hang what’s left for the buzzards.”
“Careful with the sweet talk.” He winked. “Otherwise, I’m liable to think you’ve still got the hots for me.”
Her eyes softened and he knew then that she wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended to be. But then her expression hardened again. “In your dreams.”
He grinned, slow and sure. “Amen.”
AMEN?
As in he actually dreamed about her?
Deanie entertained the possibility for several fast, furious heartbeats before reminding herself that this was Rance McGraw.
As in the Rance McGraw who’d never so much as glanced her way romantically while growing up.
As in the Rance McGraw who’d turned her down cold the night she’d offered her body to him.
“I can’t do it,” he’d told her.
Unfortunately, rumor said he’d done it with every cheerleader who’d shaken a pair of pompoms his way and so Deanie knew that it wasn’t so much the fact that he couldn’t do it, but that he couldn’t do it with her.
Or rather, he wouldn’t.
Because Deanie hadn’t been a cheerleader. Or a twirler. Or even a pep squad member. Heck, she hadn’t been a member of anything except the auto shop club and she’d only joined that because her brother, Clay, had served as president to earn extra
