breathlessly, fumbling to unbutton Carter Southard’s jeans, only to be blocked by his belt buckle.
She shifted from where she leaned against a stall door and pushed him against it instead, pulling and tugging, kissing and hissing, desperate to fill the emptiness that gaped within her.
“Whoa, hold on there, Marine,” Carter managed to mumble between assaults on his mouth. “Where’s the fire?”
Jo looked into his ruggedly handsome face, taking in his five o’clock shadow, the slight crow’s-feet that fanned out from his gray eyes, his dark hair, tousled from the motorcycle ride to Wildewood from Dallas.
She wanted to tell him that the fire was everywhere. It roared through her veins, under and over her skin, threatening to consume her if she didn’t find a way to douse it. Now.
“I’ve been on the road for three hours in the summer heat,” Carter grumbled. “I could use a shower and a cold beer.”
Jo closed her eyes to shut out him and his words. If she was also trying to banish the image of one very striking ranch owner by the name of Trace Armstrong, she wasn’t copping to it. She saw his suggestive grin every time she blinked, as if the image had been branded on the back of her eyelids.
Her mother’s soft voice filled her head. If you’re ever to be a proper Texas lady, JoEllen Sue, you’re going to have to master patience.
Jo had heard the words when she was three and was stuffing the pink tutu her mother had bought her into the garbage disposal after a disastrous ballet lesson.
“Screw patience,” she whispered now, pushing Carter against the stable wall.
Her muscles were tight, and her entire body seemed to vibrate with an energy she needed to release.
Truth was, she’d been hot in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat ever since Trace Armstrong had sidled up beside her earlier in the day, resting his brown eyes on her and making no secret of the fact that he found her physically attractive.
Truth be told, she’d known that fact since the moment she’d signed on for the temporary, seasonal stint at the ranch. Spotted it the instant her gaze met his, and that undeniable crackle of electricity traveled between them. She’d been fresh out of the service, traveling around South Texas taking odd ranch jobs, when she’d heard that Wildewood was hiring.
She’d had no idea of the fringe benefits that would go along with the position, and now she seemed more drawn to Trace than was safe. Attraction to the boss might have compelled her to leave other places she’d worked. Especially considering she’d spent so much of her life yearning to be judged by her actions and the job she did rather than on her appearance.
Now Carter said, “God, I wish I’d have known you in the sandbox.”
She bit his bottom lip and then kissed him restlessly. “If you’d known me in Iraq, you would never have gotten next to me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
“Oh, I’m positive,” she said. “The last thing you want to do with someone who’s supposed to be protecting your six is give them a reason to be preoccupied with it.”
“Six” was military speak for “ass.”
Carter chuckled and then groaned when she ground her hips against his.
The two of them had met two years ago on a transport back from the Middle East. They’d both been on leave, and Jo had ended up staying with him for a couple of days of intense R & R in Dallas before heading down to see her parents in Beaumont…late. The welcome-home cake had been stale. The punch gone. And her mother so inconsolable she’d taken to bed with one of her “spells”, as her father called her bouts of depression.
It had ended up being one of the best leaves Jo had ever had. Partly because she’d met Carter. Mostly because she’d gotten to spend uninterrupted stretches of time with her father.
Which made her feel guilty just thinking about it. Another emotion she wanted to squash with physical activity.
She shrugged out of her denim shirt, revealing the tank she wore underneath. Carter immediately palmed her right breast, squeezing through the cotton and her bra. She batted his hand away and gave his belt buckle another go.
“Jesus, Carter, what is this? The male equivalent to a chastity belt?”
His chuckle tickled her ear, along with his tongue.
Her exasperation boiled over.
“Oh, just forget it,” she said, starting to put her shirt back on.
“Aw, baby, don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for her.
She picked up his hat and tossed it to him. It hit the area of his anatomy that disappointed her most. He trapped it there with his hand.
“Hey,” he said, pushing himself off the wall. “I ate three hours of road to see you, Jo. What’s up?”
“I’m not in the mood anymore.”
If she were being honest, she’d admit that wasn’t the only factor. Being so close to Beaumont, and the complicated problems that existed with her parents, seemed to wreak havoc with her emotions in a way she didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t as if the difficulties were new. She’d pretty much grown up with them, even if they had become more serious.
Still, a good sack session had always been enough to chase away the shadows of the past, if not shine a fresh light on the future.
Carter did up the buttons on his jeans. A horse neighed and poked its nose out of the stall, and he stepped aside to avoid it.
“That’s funny. I was just thinking that you haven’t much been in the mood since you took this damn job. You call, tell me you want to see me, then I get down here and you find some reason to be pissed at me.”
She started buttoning her shirt, surprised to find her hands trembling.
“Since the moment I pulled up you’ve done nothing but bitch.”
She said quietly, “Yes, well, if you’d give me the attention I want when I want it, maybe I wouldn’t be so upset.”
His grin reminded her of times past, when they’d shut themselves up in a seedy motel room on the outskirts of Dallas for days on end, leaving only to get beer and burgers.
The problem now was that it hadn’t been his grin she’d been seeing when she closed her eyes moments ago; it had been Trace’s.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we were working toward getting you what you wanted just now.” He shrugged and checked his belt buckle, which was still firmly fastened. “I was fine with waiting until we got back to the bunkhouse.”
“Yes, well, now neither one of us has to worry about waiting.” She turned and stalked away. “Don’t let the barn door hit you in the ass on your way out, Marine.”
Chapter Two
WELL,
