rides fence and pitches hay right alongside her husband. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m talking about something a lot more basic. If a girl can have her fun, so can a guy.”
She peeked around him and eyed the women still gathered in the hallway. “I say take your pick and go for it.”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the alcove behind a nearby stairwell.
“What are you doing—” she started, the words drowning in the lump in her throat as he whirled her around and cornered her.
“I pick you.”
She stared up at him, wishing he wasn’t so tall, so handsome, so…close. “I’m not ripe for picking.”
His eyes darkened and she realized she’d said the wrong things…or the right thing depending on the part of her doing the thinking. From the heat pooling between her thighs she’d lay down money it wasn’t her head.
“I’d say you’re definitely ripe, honey.” His thumb grazed the nipple pressing against her blouse and heat speared her. “Damn near ready to burst.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She summoned her most nonchalant voice. “You should really save your energy for a nice girl who’s into the tractor thing.”
“The whole point is to expend a little energy.”
“So do it with the future Mrs. Jimmy Mission.”
“I would, but I haven’t found her yet.”
“Then expend energy with one of your fans out in the hallway.”
“I’ve known each one of them nearly all my life, and while they’re having a good time reading your articles and playing at being savvy singles, they’re really only after one thing—a husband. The morning after, I’m sure to find an anxious father waiting on my doorstep with a loaded shotgun, and Preacher Marley standing next to him. I’ll end up hitched whether I’ve found the right woman or not.”
“What makes you think the same won’t happen with me?”
“You got an anxious father waiting at home?”
Once upon a time…She shook away the thought and fought back a wave of guilt. “No.”
“You know Preacher Marley?”
“He’s an In Touch subscriber.”
“How likely is he to step in and defend your honor?”
She stiffened and met his stare. “For your information, I can defend my own honor.”
“There was never a doubt in my mind.” He touched her then, skin to skin, the tip of one finger at her collarbone, and heat bolted through her from the contact. “You’re something when you get all stirred up.” He traced a path lower, until his fingertip came to rest atop the tattoo peeking from the vee of her blouse. “This drove me crazy all morning.”
Before she could form a reply, he dipped his head and the tip of his tongue flicked over the sensitive area. A moan caught in her throat and she closed her eyes, the pleasure sweet, intense, overwhelming.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all year,” he went on. Sexy green eyes caught and held hers. “You’ve been haunting my dreams. You and your red lips and that damned kiss and this heat between us.”
Amen. While Deb had heard about chemistry and animal attraction and how, sometimes, things just sparked between two people, she’d never felt it. Sure, she’d been attracted to men, but the pull had never felt so…desperate. Like if she didn’t have him, she’d die. Right here. Right now.
“Don’t you think it’s about time we stopped all this nonsense?” he asked.
Boy, did she ever. She caught the words before they could pass her lips and drew her mouth into a tight line. “You want to talk about nonsense? That judgment. My insurance will cover the damages, but anything above and beyond is ridiculous.”
“And still your responsibility.”
“But you weren’t anywhere near that Bronco when I tapped you. Why should I pay you pain and suffering?”
“I’ve been in pain since the first moment I tasted you—” his fingertip skimmed her bottom lip “—and suffering every night since because I want to taste you again.” His gaze flicked to her mouth. “The law is the law. You owe me, Slick.”
“I don’t have four thousand dollars.”
“I don’t want four thousand dollars.”
Don’t ask. Turn. Walk away. Do anything but ask.
Something about the intense light of his gaze compelled her, however, almost as much as the need that suddenly gripped her body.
“What do you want?”
“This, for starters.” And then he kissed her.
Jimmy Mission tasted even better than she remembered. Hotter. More potent.
His hand cupped her cheek, the other splayed along her rib cage just inches shy of her right breast, his fingers searing through the fabric of her blouse. His mouth nibbled at hers. His tongue slid wet and wicked along her bottom lip before dipping inside to stroke and tease and take her breath away.
Now this…this was the reason she’d dunked him at the carnival.
Because she’d been a heartbeat shy of crawling into the dunk tank with him, throwing herself into his arms and begging for another kiss. No way could she have allowed herself to do such a thing with a marriage-minded man like Jimmy Mission.
A girl had to have her standards, and married men, engaged men, men who walked and talked and reeked of home and hearth and tradition, like Jimmy, were completely off-limits. No marriage for her. Just freedom and fun and…
The thought faded as his fingers crept an inch higher, closer to her aching nipple which bolted to attention, eager for a touch, a stroke, something…anything.
His fingers stopped inches shy, but his mouth kept moving, his tongue stroking, lips eating, hungry…so hungry. His intent was pure sin, and Deb couldn’t help herself; a moan vibrated up her throat.
He caught the sound, deepening the kiss for a delicious moment that made her stomach jump and her thighs quiver, and left no doubt as to the power of the chemistry between them.
She’d been burning for him all these months, the flames fed by memories and fantasies and his constant pursuit.
“What are you doing to me?” she murmured, dazed and trembling, when he finally pulled away.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Not even half of what I want to do.” His words made her shake and quiver all the more.
Shaking? Quivering? Over a man?
This man, a voice whispered, that same voice that had warned her off him so many months ago. The voice that kept her one step
