Sierra smoothed her hand over the silk of her fabulous thrift-store skirt and took a deep, calming breath. Then she rapped on Belle’s door.
She’d practiced her breezy smile on the drive over, was sure she had the whole it’s-totally-not-a-big-deal verbiage down pat. The last thing she needed was Belle worrying. Or worse, calling the cops again.
Mitch Carter, hottie extraordinaire and Belle’s fiancé, let her in with a grin. He had intense brown eyes, a smokin’ body and the sweetest smile in the world when he looked at her best friend. If she didn’t already think of him as a brother, Sierra would be half in love with the guy. Since half was as far as she ever fell, she figured that said it all.
“Hey, Mitch,” she greeted as he welcomed her with a hug. The guy was baffling that way. Über-successful businessman, he was one of the top developers in the country, yet he wore jeans, boots, and gave hugs. As if he didn’t have anything to prove. Yup, definitely baffling.
“C’mon in,” he said, ushering her through Belle’s condo where they were living while their house was being built. Bright and airy with splashes of color, the space suited Belle perfectly. A vivid contrast to Sierra’s place with its heavy, dark intensity.
“Yum, homemade guacamole?” she asked as she stepped into the open kitchenette with its long breakfast bar and chrome stools. The red enamel appliances, black-and-white tiled floor and kitschy wall art made the eating area look like a fifties diner gone posh.
Sierra helped herself to a tortilla chip slathered with guacamole, bit it, then saluted her partner with the other half of her chip as she chewed.
“What’d the cops say?” Belle asked from the stove, where she was sautéing onions and bell peppers.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Sierra returned with a droll look. “I appreciate the dinner invite—everything smells wonderful. And yes, this is a new skirt. D’ya like it?”
Belle rolled her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from dropping her gaze to the vivid red pencil skirt and making an approving noise. But as distractions went, Sierra should have tried shoe shopping, because one second later Belle was raising a brow and giving her that “Well?” look.
Sierra sighed and slipped onto a red vinyl-and-chrome lowbacked stool and scooped up more of the avocado dip. She didn’t need the seconds it took to eat the chip to gather her thoughts since she’d rehearsed plenty on the drive over, but she used the time anyway.
“The cops said there isn’t anything they can do,” she reported in a breezy tone as she sipped the margarita Mitch handed her when he walked by.
“They can investigate,” Belle insisted, stabbing the vegetables with her spatula.
“Not really. There’s no threat. These are just pictures, and pretty crappy ones at that. There is nothing to go on. As offensive as it might be, sending crappy pictures isn’t a crime.”
Sierra shoved another loaded chip into her mouth to keep the “I told you so” from spilling out next. A shiver of fear worked its way down her spine, but she told herself she hadn’t expected anything else. They knew the situation. The cops didn’t think it was a big deal.
“But the pictures are blatantly sexual,” Belle sputtered in protest.
“No, they are blatantly a joke. Irritating, tacky and rude, but not criminal.” At least the police had believed that someone was sending the pictures. They’d been polite, a little surprised at some of the poses, and in one case complimented her on her dexterity. But the bottom line was there was nothing they could do for her. Except offer a grocery list of cautions and warnings, most of which required someone to hold her hand. Just in case.
The idea of a babysitter made Sierra shudder. She totally refused to even consider just in case.
“They’re going to do something though, right? I mean, they’ll keep an eye on you just to make sure you’re, you know, safe and all?”
Who knew keeping up a fake smile could be so much work? Just discussing this made Sierra want to scream. But she managed to keep her look cheerful and easygoing. “They wrote up a report. I’ll keep them apprised of any more pictures and they’ll stay on top of things.”
Belle’s low growl was a dangerous thing. It wouldn’t take much to send her off to the phone to call the cop shop and throw a fit. For a second, Sierra missed the good old days when Belle had backed off from any sort of confrontation.
“When’s dinner?” she asked in a blatant subject change. She was done giving those stupid pictures her attention and energy. She’d followed the rules. She’d reported the mess. Now it was time to move on with life. Or more importantly, on to fajitas.
Belle’s look was a combination of irritation and something Sierra couldn’t quite place. But her friend gave a short jerk of her shoulder, poured the sautéed vegetables on a platter and said, “In a couple minutes. I’m just waiting for Mitch and, um, something.”
The something became apparent sixty seconds later when Mitch walked in with a platter of barbecued ribs. Sierra’s stomach constricted with sudden nerves, but she didn’t know why. Then the scent hit her over the wafting smell of dinner. Earthy, male and totally sexual. Shoulders tight, she turned to watch the man following Mitch.
Her hottest fantasy and her biggest nightmare. The one guy guaranteed to push all her buttons and send every thought of self-preservation straight out of her head.
Temptation in a cowboy hat.
Well, hell, Sierra sighed.
Hadn’t her day been stressful enough already?
Chapter Two
REECE CARTER.
Long, lean and sexy.
Heat flashed in Sierra’s belly as she faced the only guy to scare the hell out of her.
Not because he was the sexiest man on Earth and made her want to strip him naked, then lick her way up his body. That she could deal with.
What scared her was that she was a savvy, strong and opinionated woman. But when she saw Reece, she instantly wanted to become sweet, timid and compliant.
So she spent all her time around him being a hard-ass bitch, just to prove she could.
Pathetic.
Her breath quickened as she took in the delicious width of his shoulders encased in a black T-shirt. She wanted to trace her palm over the fabric where it curved lovingly over his big, muscled biceps. She wanted to press her cheek to the hard lines of his torso and run her fingers down the slim, denimcovered hips. The man had a body like a swimmer, with the tightest ass she’d ever seen grace denim.
He made her mouth water.
He had ever since she’d seen him for the first time six years ago at Belle and Mitch’s first wedding rehearsal dinner and fallen into instant lust. Then he’d opened his mouth and they’d fallen into instant verbal foreplay. Nobody could turn her on with a few words like Reece could. Unfortunately, nobody could make her lose control with just a few words like he could, either. Because it hadn’t taken more than a half-dozen exchanges for her to realize he was too much of a threat to
