The Sex Solution
Kimberly Raye
“I didn’t ask you to kiss me. I told you to kiss me,” Maddie said wickedly
Austin shook his head. “You used to be so…nice.”
“Nice girls finish last.” She sized him up. “You’ve changed, too. The bad boy I once knew wouldn’t turn down a kiss with a willing woman.”
His eyes suddenly gleamed with challenge and something dark and delicious and forbidden. “Who says I’ve turned it down?” Then he was pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was hot and insistent, his mouth plundering hers. But just when she was really getting into it, he drew back.
“You asked for a kiss—there you go. Objective achieved.”
But her objective had changed, Maddie realized. She was no longer the awkward seventeen-year-old who’d fantasized about kissing the cutest boy in high school. She was all grown up now and her fantasies went way beyond a kiss.
“Not quite.”
“What else do you want from me?”
She licked her lips and stared into his eyes. “You and me…and some down and dirty, hot and heavy sex.”
Dear Reader,
My heroes have always been bad boys! Nothing could be better than seeing a wild, wicked, dangerously handsome man who’s too big for his britches humbled by the overwhelming power of love. Then again, if that man is one of a trio of notorious bad boy brothers from Cadillac, Texas, then you’re talking triple the fun and the blazing-hot excitement!
Thanks to the overwhelming reader response to Dallas Jericho, the youngest brother featured in “Show & Tell” from the Blaze Midnight Fantasies anthology, I‘m back this month with another hot, hunky, badder-than-bad Jericho brother in The Sex Solution. Austin is the oldest and wildest of the three, but he’s determined to change his ways. No more fast times and fast women. He’s a new man, and to prove it, he intends to find a nice, conservative, tame woman to settle down with. But when former good girl Madeline Hale rolls back into town with seduction on her mind, she soon convinces him that being a little bad can be very, very good!
I love writing hot, steamy love stories that portray not only the emotional bond between a man and woman, but the physical bond, as well. Blaze gives me the freedom to do just that. So grab an ice-cold drink, crank up the air-conditioning and get ready for a red-hot read from deep in the heart of Texas!
All my best,
Kimberly Raye
P. S. There’s still one Jericho brother who’s footloose and fancy free. But not for long. Don’t miss the final showdown in Blaze #131, The Fantasy Factor, coming next month.
The Sex Solution
Kimberly Raye
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to the real Marshalyn Simmons aka Sue Groff.
You’re the best mother-in-law in the world, and an even better friend!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
1
EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM promised hot, steamy, mind-blowing sex.
From the way he looked…
So rugged and masculine with his white cotton T-shirt, the words Cowboy Up emblazoned in black letters across the front. Perspiration soaked the material, making it nearly transparent. Dark swirls of hair covered his broad chest. Damp cotton clung to his shoulders and biceps. Soft, faded denim cupped his crotch and molded to trim hips and long, muscular legs, the cuffs tucked into a pair of dusty brown cowboy boots.
To the way he moved…
So strong and sure and purposeful as he reached for a sack of feed on the hot pavement near his feet. Muscles rippled and flexed as he hoisted the weight onto his shoulder. One hair-dusted thigh played peekaboo with her through a frayed rip in his jeans as he turned and tossed the load into the bed of a beat-up pickup truck.
Definitely mind-blowing. A man as strong and toned and blatantly physical as Austin Jericho would never be a lazy lover. He would touch and stroke and stir a woman until she screamed for release.
Not that Madeline Regina Hale knew such a thing firsthand. Only in her most private, provocative dreams.
She stared through the glass of Skeeter’s Drugstore and tried to calm the sudden pounding of her heart. Even after twelve years, Austin was still the hottest boy in Cadillac, Texas.
Make that the hottest man. One-hundred percent, prime, Grade-A, pinch-me-I’m-dreaming man.
Her breath caught at another squat, another flash of hard, muscular thigh.
The reaction sent a rush of nostalgia through her and suddenly all those years, a challenging career as the senior research-and-development chemist for one of America’s leading cosmetics companies and a shelf full of well-read self-improvement books didn’t seem to matter.
Madeline felt seventeen again. Young. Naive. Awkward. And lovesick over a hot teenage boy in dusty boots and a black leather Harley jacket.
Back then he’d looked every bit as delicious as he did right now. His jeans had been just as flattering, and her heart had fluttered just as much.
She’d always had a powerful physical reaction to Austin.
He, on the other hand, had never had any reaction to her.
She couldn’t really blame him. She’d been practically nonexistent back then. Just another geeky, four-eyed member of the Chem Gems—the only academic club at a school that lived and breathed football and state championships. Forget victory parties with the in crowd. She’d spent her Saturday nights in the kitchen of her dad’s doughnut shop, Sweet & Simple, mixing up muffins and fritters and other goodies for the Sunday-morning rush. The expected pastime of the overweight wallflower voted Most Studious for four consecutive years.
Austin, on the other hand, had been lean, loud and rebellious. The oldest of the notorious Jericho brothers—a hot, handsome trio of heartbreakers who’d invented the word scandal. A leather-clad bad boy who’d ridden a screaming chrome demon and shot every rule to hell and back. The boy voted Most Likely to Serve Time in a Maximum Security Prison.
Dangerous. That had been Austin way back when.
His attitude. His looks. His effect on the opposite sex.
Only a select few females had been lucky enough to keep company with him, however. Most had been blond and beautiful, with big boobs and even bigger egos. All had been as wild as the boy himself.
Mousy-brown hair, a chubby figure—thanks to all those Saturday nights at the bakeshop—and a hum-drum existence had knocked Madeline completely out of the running. She’d had to settle for lusting after him from afar.
Then and now.
As soon as the thought struck, she stiffened. While she was, indeed, staring and lusting from a substantial distance, things had changed.
She’d changed.
Expensive blond highlights, a strict diet-and-exercise regime, makeup lessons and subscriptions to Cosmopolitan and Vogue had seen to that. But even more, she’d evolved on the inside, as well as the outside. She no longer settled for what life doled out. She didn’t sit around waiting for luck or the right moment or perfect alignment of the planets to experience what life had to offer. She went after what she wanted when she wanted it. She didn’t content herself with dreams. She made things happen, and she lived for every exciting moment.
Her cell phone chose that moment to shriek, drawing her attention away from the sweaty, succulent picture of Austin to the overflowing leather sack she called a purse.
“Girlfriend, where are you?” Janice demanded. Janice was the ex-vice president of the Chem Gems and the maid of honor for Cheryl Louise Martin’s wedding—the reason Madeline had taken time off from her job at V.A.M.P. Cosmetics to make the hundred-and-fifty-mile drive from Dallas to her small hometown.
Cheryl Louise, two years Maddie’s junior, had been an honorary Chem Gem thanks to her older sister, Sharon, who’d let her tag along to study group. Their parents had been busy running Chester’s Diner—the family business—and so Sharon had been in charge of her little sister while her dad cooked and her mom waited tables. Since the Chem Gems—all five of them—had been best friends as well as study partners, they’d all taken charge of Cheryl, particularly Madeline. She and Sharon had been best friends since kindergarten.
Had.
An image rushed at her. Of a dark night and a deadly curve and a monstrous tree and…
Madeline closed her mind to the memory the way she always did. Sharon’s death was in the past and dwelling on that night wasn’t going to bring her friend back.
Besides, Sharon wouldn’t want tears ruining the occasion. She would want her little sister to have a grand send-off. Exactly what the Chem Gems intended to give her.
Starting with the bachelorette party tonight.
“He-llo?” Janice’s impatient voice drifted over the line. “Girl, you were supposed to be here ten minutes ago to hang crepe paper for the pre-party festivities.”
“I’m at Skeeter’s getting everything on the list you dictated over the phone to me last night.” Her gaze drifted back to the window in time to see Austin hoist the last sack of feed, pull off his gloves and stuff them into his back pocket. How he fit anything back there was a puzzle for Einstein himself.
“…get the extra batteries for Sarah’s camera?” The tail end of Janice’s question pushed past the pounding of Madeline’s heart.
She forced a deep breath and shifted her attention to her basket. “Got ’em.”
“How about the extra rolls of film?”
“Got ’em.” She had to get control of herself. She wasn’t seventeen anymore and Austin Jericho wasn’t all that. He was just a man. Just flesh and blood. Just tanned skin and bulging muscle.
The thought drew a quick image from one of her favorite Austin fantasies.
He gripped the hem of his T-shirt. Material bunched and crept up his rock-hard abdomen and broad chest, until he pulled the soft cotton over his head and tossed it aside. Tanned fingers went to the button on his snug jeans. The edges sagged with relief as the fastening slid free. A zipper hissed and parted and…
Madeline derailed the thought before she went around the curve into The Land of the Sexually Deprived.
That was the problem.
Over the past six months, she’d been so fixated on developing a new body lotion for V.A.M.P. that her personal life had fallen by the wayside. She hadn’t been out on a Saturday night since the project’s start. She was bound to go a little bonkers when faced with a hot, sweaty cowboy.
Particularly this hot, sweaty cowboy who’d dominated her adolescent fantasies, and a few of her adult ones, as well.
“…there? Earth to Madeline?” Janice huffed. “Girlfriend, what is with you?”
“I’m tired, that’s all. I just drove in this morning.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to rest after tomorrow.”
Two weeks to be exact. Madeline had vetoed buying a bread maker for a wedding present and, instead, had promised to house-sit for Cheryl while she honeymooned in the Bahamas. Madeline would have bought the appliance, but hearing the young woman fret over who was going to take care of her plants and her dog had been too much. Madeline didn’t do guilt very well, so she’d volunteered.
Besides, when she worked on a project, she preferred solitude. No colleagues interrupting her, no higher-ups chomping at the bit for a hint about what she was doing, no marketing personnel bugging her about deadlines. This way, everyone would be miles away and she could concentrate.
Not that she didn’t like the big city and its noise and chaos. And its traffic. And its smog. And its endless miles of concrete. She loved it all. That’s why she’d left Cadillac in the first place.
At least that’s what Madeline had told herself for the past twelve years. So often, in fact, that she’d actually started to believe it.
“Don’t forget the balloons. They have balloons, don’t they? I’ve gotten used to a Wal-Mart on every corner. Cadillac could take some lessons from Houston.”
“Some people like a slower pace.” What was she saying? The truth, a voice whispered. Some people do like a slower pace.
Madeline just wasn’t one of them. Was she?
“And there are people who pierce major body parts, too, but that doesn’t mean they’re sane.” Janice’s voice took on her familiar I-want-everything-to-go-perfectly desperation. “Please tell me they have balloons.”
“I’m about to find out.” Madeline headed down one of the aisles, passed a variety of cookies in favor of a large package of Double Stuffed Oreos. Otherwise known as inspiration. Whenever she came up against a brick wall at work, she would indulge in Oreos and free her creativity.
With the wedding looming and a size-ten bridesmaid’s dress to squeeze herself into, she’d been Oreo-free for the past few weeks, so she’d yet to come up with any really great ideas. She had a few so-so ones, but nothing outstanding. Or revolutionary. Nothing guaranteed to wow the CEO of V.A.M.P. and move Madeline the final step up the corporate ladder to head of research and development.
Yet.
With the aroma of chocolate wafers and sweet cream filling her nostrils and blessed solitude helping her focus, she would surely come up with something brilliant. Then it was back to Dallas and constant interruptions and her strict diet regime that consisted of Melba toast, grilled chicken salads and Pilates. “Okay, we’ve hit pay dirt on the balloons,” she told Janice a few seconds later.
“And hats? Do they have hats, too?”
“It’s a bachelorette party, not a birthday party.”
“Hats are festive. I want everyone in the party mood. I want tonight to be special.”
“We’ll all be together for the first time in twelve years. It’ll be special.”
“Except that Cheryl Louise is bringing her poodle, Tilly. Remember? She’s the one that farts when she wags her tail. Every time she wags her tail.”
“We’ll make the best of it. Focus on the positive.”
Madeline had learned that all-important lesson when she’d left Cadillac and headed for the big city. One of her first life-changing vows had been to stop stressing over the fact that she wasn’t thin enough or pretty enough or outgoing enough, and do something about it.
She’d done just that and changed her life forever.
“Girl, you’re absolutely right. She may be bringing Tilly, but at least she’s leaving Twinkles at home,” Janice sighed. “Otherwise, we’d all end up covered in dog hair. That blasted thing sheds like—ohmigod! Peanuts!” she shrieked. “You can’t forget the peanuts. Cheryl loves peanuts and I want to have all of her favorites tonight.”
“Got ’em.” So much for a pep talk. “See you in a little while.” No sooner had she punched the off button than the phone rang again.
“A black laundry marker,” Janice quipped. “Do they have one?”
“Skeeter’s has everything.”
It was the typical old-time drugstore that carried everything from small hardware items to makeup, canned goods to candy. They even had a pharmacy in the back where Ben Skeeter had been filling prescriptions for as long as Madeline could remember.
“Good. Now hurry up. Sarah just got here with the cheese dip.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She dropped the phone into her purse.
A few minutes later, after retrieving the requested marker, she headed for the pharmacy counter at the rear of the store where a silver-haired woman hoisted a large box onto the counter next to the cash register.
“Maddie Hale?” Camille Skeeter pushed her wire-framed glasses up onto her nose for a better look. “My word, is that you?”
“It’s me, all right. Madeline Hale.” She’d left the name Maddie behind with her geeky image.
The older woman smiled as she yanked open the box and reached for her pricing gun. “My, my, you’re a sight. I wish Ben were here to see you, but he’s over at the community center leading the dedication for the new monkey bars.” She tapped the button pinned to her white smock.
Ben Skeeter’s image stared back at Madeline along with the phrase printed around the edges that read Ain’t Nothin’ Sweeter Than Electin’ a Skeeter.
“Ben’s the mayor now,” Camille told her. “Second term.”
“I heard through the grapevine. Congratulations. So, are you handling the store all by yourself now?”
“Sure am.” Camille wiped the sweat from her brow, hoisted the box to the side and reached for Madeline’s basket. “But a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do and I always stand by my man. So—” she started ringing up items “—how are your mama and daddy doing? Haven’t heard much from them since they retired down south. How do they like Port Aransas?”
“They were a little bored at first, but they’ve fallen into a nice routine. Dad spends his days fishing and doing his best to steer clear of anything that even smells like a doughnut. Mom opened a seashell shop.”
“Sounds like they’re having a ball.”
“Finally.” Her mother had spent twenty years as a high-school science teacher while her father had run the local doughnut shop. Her mother had been an academic, content to study life rather than really live it, while her father had been a workaholic who’d observed it from behind a counter.
Until last year.
Her mother’s diagnosis with chronic heart disease had helped them realize what Madeline herself had learned that fateful day she’d lost Sharon—life was simply too short to waste. They’d sold their house and the doughnut shop and headed for the Texas coast.
“Mom’s making conch-shell necklaces and Dad’s catching giant redfish.” And Madeline had a full jewelry box and an overflowing freezer to prove it. “They’re really into this new phase of their lives.”
“That’s because it’s fun. Ben and I need more fun in our lives, but his schedule is so demanding and the store needs me practically twenty-four/seven.” She sighed, then smiled. “What about you, sweetie? I hear you’re working for one of those fancy cosmetic companies up in Dallas.”
“V.A.M.P. Cosmetics.” Madeline rummaged in her bag. “Here are some samples of our new berry-flavored lipsticks.”
Camille dabbed on the color and licked her lips. “My, my, but this tastes good. Whewee! My taste buds are in overload. I bet Ben will love it. He hates the brand I wear now. Says it tastes like wax.”
Marketing objective accomplished.
V.A.M.P. Cosmetics had grown from a small business to a major corporation by focusing on the sensual nature of their products. They had lotions that tingled when applied. Mascara that made even the skimpiest lashes look lush and sexy. Bath gel that smoothed over the skin like a lover’s silky touch. And lipsticks to spice up every kiss. Seduce your senses. That was V.A.M.P.’s creed.
“So is it true that you actually mix all this stuff up yourself?” Camille asked as she started to bag Maddie’s purchases.
“I sure do.”
“Amazing.”
“I suppose so.” Considering the only thing Madeline had mixed up way back when had been batches of muffins and glazed fritters in the kitchen of her dad’s shop.
“So what are you cooking up right now?” The woman’s eyes lit. “Is it a new lipstick? Why, I’m just a sucker for lipstick.”
“Actually, my next project will be for our skin-care line. I don’t know very many details yet—it’s still in the developmental stage—but when I get something mixed up, I’ll drop by a few samples.”
“Would you? Oh, I would love that!” Camille slid the mini lipsticks into her coat pocket and stifled a cough. “Excuse me, sweetie. I just can’t seem to get rid of this danged old croup.” She reached behind the counter for a glass of water. After taking a sip, she cleared her throat and smiled. “So what else can I get for you today?”
Madeline glanced past the woman to the condom display and pointed to an extralarge blue box. “I’ll take a pack of those.”
“Sweet and smart.” Camille winked and rang up the last item.
“More like afraid.” At Camille’s questioning glance, Madeline added, “We’re decorating for Cheryl’s bachelorette party. If I show up without the condoms, Janice will tar and feather me. She’s a little obsessive.”
After paying for her purchases, Madeline gathered up her bag of goodies and started for the front of the store. She’d made it two steps before her cell phone rang again. She shifted her bag to one arm and rummaged inside her purse for the blasted phone.
“Trojan,” Janice said the moment Madeline managed to say hello.
“Got ’em,” Madeline rounded the corner. “Would you please stop worry—hmmph!”
Her breath caught as she came up hard against a solid mass of warmth. Her heart stalled. Her phone took a dive for the floor. Her purse hit with a solid thunk. Her bag crashed and the contents scattered.
“I’m so sorry,” she started. “I didn’t see—”
You lodged behind the sudden lump that blocked her throat. Her head jerked up and she found herself standing chest to chest with Cadillac’s most notorious bad boy.
2
AUSTIN JERICHO’S EYES were even bluer than Maddie remembered. Deeper. More unnerving.
They pulled her in and sucked her under like a cool river on a hot summer’s day. Sensation washed over her body, skimming her ultrasensitive skin, sneaking into every hot spot until she felt completely submerged and temporarily paralyzed and…ahh.
“I thought I recognized you.” His voice, so rich and husky, slid into her ears and prickled the hair on the nape of her neck. Her attention shifted to his mouth.
He’d always had great lips. Slightly full on the bottom. Sensuous. Just right for kissing, or so she’d thought every time he’d folded himself into the desk opposite hers and opened his book for their daily algebra les—
“You recognized me?” she blurted as his words registered. “You recognized me?” Sure, they’d spent every afternoon together for most of their senior year, thanks to Marshalyn Simmons, the high-school librarian, who’d recruited Madeline to tutor Austin. But otherwise, he’d barely acknowledged her existence.
Except once.
Standing in the shadows outside the football stadium on a Friday night when the Cadillac Coyotes had been slaying the Hondo Hogs in a record-breaking game. The first and last football game Madeline Hale had ever attended.
She’d given up her usual Saturday night at the doughnut shop in favor of the chance to see Austin somewhere other than the school library. Not that it had been a date or anything like that. Just a chance meeting that she’d taken great pains to plan. They’d happened into each other near the concession stand.
She could still smell the fresh buttered popcorn and hear the roar of the crowd and feel the wild air emanating from the boy who’d walked up to her. He’d stared down into her eyes and she’d stared up into his, and they’d had nothing short of explosive chemistry.
For a few precious seconds.
But then the moment of truth had come and she’d learned one of life’s biggest lessons—geeky good girls like Maddie did not end up with cool bad boys like Austin. She wasn’t brave enough, bold enough, bad enough.
Then again, she wasn’t plain old Maddie anymore. She was Madeline Hale. Sophisticated. Worldly. Bad.
But with Austin so close and overwhelming and still sexy as hell, it was hard to remember that.
“When I spotted you through the window,” he told her, “I said to myself, ‘Why, that looks like Maddie Hale’ and sure enough—” he gestured to her “—here you are.”
“You saw me through the window? You saw me?” Even as the question passed her lips, she knew she should bite it back and think of something witty to say. But it was hard to think with his heat surrounding her.
And his scent filling her nostrils…the musky smell of horse and leather and warm male that made her drink in a deep breath.
And his smile right there, directed at her…
As if he read the thoughts racing through her mind, his lips parted, his grin widened and her heart stalled.
Yep, that smile could do enough damage all by itself. Add it to everything else wreaking havoc on her senses and she was a lost cause.
“You saw me,” she said again, as if repeating the truth would help it to sink in. “You saw me.”
“You look really good.”
“I look good?” She shook her head. Goober alert! “I mean, uh, yes, I do look rather good.” Conceited goober alert! “Um, so do you. Look good, that is. You look really good.”
“I look more wet than anything else. It’s hot enough to fry eggs outside.” He glanced down and plucked at his damp T-shirt. “But thanks anyway.”
“Even all dusty and sweaty you look really good,” she rushed on. “Especially all dusty and sweaty.”
He grinned again. “I could use something cold to drink. Say—” he looked at her as if an idea had just struck “—maybe we could grab a root beer float over at the fountain. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“You want to have a float? With me?” Here comes the goober again. “I mean, of course you want to have a float with me. I like floats. I mean, I used to like floats. I stick to diet sodas now.”
“Diet soda?” He gave her a puzzled look as he studied her. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything when we collided, did you?”
“I…” Boy, he smelled good. And felt good. And looked good.
She found herself wishing that she’d worn her black slacks. Black was slimming and her thighs needed all the help they could get.
The thought drew her up short and she stiffened. “I’m okay.” She was, and she didn’t need black slacks to prove it. Mind over matter, she told herself, and her mind was much bigger than her matter, even if she’d barely managed to squeeze said matter into the size-ten jeans hugging her thighs. She was no longer fat. She was voluptuous. And proud of every inch. “I’m fine, really.”
“That’s good news.” He shifted his attention away from her then, thank goodness, and glanced around them.
Reality zapped her and she followed his gaze to the spilled contents of her bag. “That’s what I get for being in a hurry.” She dropped to her knees, grateful for a distraction from Austin and the all-important fact that he was standing just inches away from her.
She forced the notion aside and concentrated on gathering up her stuff. “They don’t make bags like they used to….” Her words faded as her attention snagged on the worn tips of his boots.
Boots were good. Totally nonsexual. They shouldn’t inspire lewd thoughts. Unless, of course, they drew to mind a vision of him so strong and powerful and naked, except for the boots….
Her nipples tingled. Her thighs trembled. And she felt dampness between her legs.
She drew a deep breath and reached for a canister of peanuts with one hand and a pack of batteries with the other.
“Good choice.”
“Thanks. You can recharge these if you want…” Her words faded as she realized he wasn’t talking about the pack of AA’s, but the box of Trojans he’d retrieved.
Embarrassment flooded her. “Those aren’t—” she started but then her eyes collided with his.
Hunger.
There was no mistaking the sudden flash in his deep blue stare. For several fast, furious heartbeats, she was seventeen all over again, staring at him over an open algebra book, wanting him and wishing that he wanted her the way he wanted the blueberry muffin she’d brought for him that day.
But this was no daydream. And there was no blueberry muffin. He was looking back at her now, and he wanted her just as much. It was right there in his eyes. In the way his gaze hooked on her lips…
“You always invest in such a big box?”
“They’re not—” she started before common sense kicked in and she bit her tongue. “Um, bigger is always better.”
A sexy grin tugged at his lips. “And here I thought size wasn’t a big issue with women.”
“Small is okay, but big is more economical. You get more bang for your buck.” Heat crept up her neck and she drew in a steady breath. “Especially with this brand. They give you three free.” Okay, she’d wandered into the land of goober again. Here she was discussing condoms with Austin Jericho.
“I’ve always bought the red pack myself, but maybe I’ll give these a try.”
“They’re much better.” As if she knew. “Better value and they’re, um—” she glanced at the colorful package “—lubricated.”
He nodded. “Lubrication’s good.”
“And they have spermicide. You’ve got to have that.”
“Absolutely.”
“So what were you saying about us having a—”
“I’ve really got to go,” he cut in, his expression abruptly closing as if he’d just remembered something vitally important. He stuffed the condoms into her bag and pushed to his feet.
Madeline gathered up the last of her stuff and stood. Had she heard him wrong? “But what about that diet cola?”
“Can’t stomach the stuff myself. Too much aftertaste.”
“You can have a float and I’ll have the diet cola.”
“I’d love to, darlin’, but I’ve got a sick horse waiting.” He retrieved a written prescription from his pocket. “The vet says I need some of Ben’s liniment.” He handed the sack to her. “Here you go. Nice to see you again, Maddie.”
“It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes again as he watched her for a few fast, furious heartbeats. “Madeline,” he finally repeated, a frown on his face, as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “Take care.” And then he strode toward the pharmacy counter, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.
First off, he’d actually noticed her and—ring!
Her thoughts were dissolved by the shrill sound of her cell phone. Madeline tore her attention from Austin’s delectable backside and turned to her oversize purse.
“I’m walking out the door right now,” she told a frantic Janice when she finally managed to answer.
She swallowed a sudden thirst for diet cola, gathered up her purchases and headed out to her black Mustang waiting at the curb. The phone rang again as she climbed behind the wheel.
“Girl, we need ice,” Janice quipped.
“Ice,” Madeline said, and stabbed the off button.
She was barely able to ignore the urge to kill the power completely. She was irritated, not irresponsible. She knew Duane, her lab assistant, might need her.
A wave of anxiety went through her as she thought of the young man. She turned on the car, flicked the air conditioner on high and quickly punched in the familiar number.
Duane was a maverick—fresh and creative, and not much for following rules. That’s what made him so brilliant. He wasn’t afraid to try new things. To take chances. Unfortunately, fearlessness equaled carelessness sometimes.
Madeline stifled a nervous flutter. She’d taken time off before, albeit only a few days, and her lab had still been standing when she’d returned. Of course, her desk had been a little charred around the edges after Duane had ignored the no-food rule and chowed down on a chili dog while mixing up a new acidic skin peel just inches away. Unfortunately, the chili had contained several spices that, when mixed with some of the acid compounds, proved combustible.
“Are you okay?” she demanded when he picked up the phone after the tenth ring.
“I’m not even eating chili today. But, man oh man, I could use a good cup of coffee. And a peanut-butter sandwich.”
She did a mental evaluation of the ingredients of both, and tried to pinpoint any contrary elements. Nothing. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances. “Eat in the break room.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Actually—” she started.
He rushed on. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’m a new man. Walking around without eyebrows for six months will do that to a guy.”
She thought about arguing the point, particularly since she’d found an empty coffee cup stuffed under the counter where she kept the petri dishes. But Duane was the type who had to learn on his own.
“Have you finished the trial tests for the new lotion?”
“Finished number five today. It’s good to go.”
“We need six before we make that determination.”
“I’ve had the same outcome for five. It’s not going to change. Trust me.”
“Did I tell you that I found a tattoo shop that does permanent eyebrows? Two hundred stabs of the needle and you won’t have to worry about growing yours back.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll do another test. What about you? Have you decided what we’re going to do to spice up this stuff? How about a flavored lotion?”
“That’s already been done.”
“We could do unusual flavors. Coffee. Peanut butter. Mmm.”
“We want to remind women of their sensuality, not what they had for lunch.”
“What about scented lotions?”
“That’s already been done.”
“We could do unusual scents.”
“If you say coffee and peanut butter, I’m firing you.”
“Hey, everybody loves the smell of a good cup of coffee, and peanut butter’s the universal bread spread.”
“Just finish the preliminary tests on the basic compound and feed the data into the computer. I’ll plug in later and review everything.”
“So what’s the zinger then?”
“I’m working on it.”
“I hope so. I’m getting claustrophobic in this tiny lab. I need some space. My own desk. My very own coffeemaker—”
“Did I hear slurping?”
“That was my stomach grumbling. All this talk has me hungry. And thirsty.”
“Keep it in the lunchroom.”
“Don’t I always?”
Madeline hit the off button, dropped the phone into her purse and glanced up in time to see Austin Jericho stroll out of Skeeter’s. He crossed the street, his strides long and sure, and climbed into his pickup truck.
She still couldn’t believe it. Austin Jericho had actually noticed her. And he’d remembered her. And he’d been attracted to her.
Madeline smiled. Maybe being home wouldn’t be all that bad, after all.
SHE HAD TO FIND a hot man now.
A man was all that stood between Madeline and the fifty points she needed to prove to each of her old friends—as well as every other person at Cherry Blossom Junction—that she had, indeed, turned into the baddest babe in Texas.
Her focus shifted to the game card she’d just drawn.
If a bad girl is what you long to be,
Forthright and daring are always key.
Even the hottest man loves a bold miss,
So prove yourself and give him a kiss!
“What about him?” Every eye at the table turned to peer across the semicrowded dance floor.
“Girl, get out of here,” Janice shook her head. “Your roots are showing, Eileen.”
“What, like, is that supposed to mean?”
“That you’ve been married so long you’ve forgotten what hot means. We’re not talking sweaty.”
Eileen, a petite blonde, stiffened and straightened her baseball jersey that sported Team Mom in royal blue letters. “Well, when I, like, sweat, it usually means I’m hot.”
“Ignore her,” Janice told the other women. “She doesn’t get out much. So what about him?” Janice wiggled her eyebrows and pointed out a man currently two-stepping around the dance floor, a smiling redhead in his arms. “He certainly can fill out a pair of Wrangler jeans.”
“He’s not very handsome.” Brenda Chance, ex treasurer of the Chem Gems, adjusted her wire-framed, rose-tinted glasses.
Brenda worked as an interior designer in Austin now, but in her day she’d recited the elements table faster than anyone in Kendall County. While she had a practical head on her shoulders, she also had a romantic nature that had her wearing an old-fashioned lace dress that looked suspiciously like a pair of window sheers.
“That’s definitely a face only his momma could love,” Brenda went on. “My Cal has a great face.” She sighed dreamily, then glanced around before zeroing in on another man. “What about him?” She smiled as she indicated the guy from their high school past voted Most Likely to Spit on Old People. “He’s got nice eyes—the exact color of Cal’s.”
“Girl, he’s about as nice as a pit bull,” Janice said. “Besides, he’s got puny arms. We need some muscle.”
“And good hands,” Sarah added.
Back in her day, Sarah Buchanan had been part of the in crowd, the only one among the Chem Gems. She’d been smart and beautiful and the baddest bad girl in Cadillac. She’d changed her ways the day of Sharon’s death, however, and she now sat quietly, her long red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, her mouth void of the red lipstick she’d always loved. Longing filled her eyes for a brief moment. “I used to love great hands on a guy.”
“And a mustache,” Brenda chimed in. “They’re sooo dreamy. Cal has a mustache.”
“They’re lethal to supersensitive skin.” The comment came from the bride-to-be. “She’s supposed to kiss him, not break out.”
“Let me get this straight.” Brenda adjusted her glasses again. “She has to dance with him and kiss him?”
“If she wants to win the game,” Sarah said.
“So what if she kisses him but doesn’t dance with him? Does she get half the points?”
“Girl, it’s all or nothing,” Janice said.
“So does she, like, kiss first or, like, dance first?” Eileen asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Madeline fingered the game card and scoped out prospects. “I could do either.”
“You can’t just walk up to a guy and kiss him,” Brenda said. “It’s too forward. Whatever would he think?”
Madeline smiled and indicated the game spread out on the table. “That maybe I’m the baddest babe in Texas?”
“I say you dance with him first,” Cheryl Louise offered. “Talk a little. Then kiss him. It’s more romantic.” She sighed and gazed dreamily at a man standing near the bar. A group of men surrounded him, their beers lifted in salute. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. She waved back. “That’s how Jack and I met. He asked me to dance at the Charity Chili Chowdown last year. We ate and talked and swayed. Afterward he kissed me so softly and tenderly that I just knew he was the one.”
“How totally sweet,” Brenda sighed.
“How tame.” Sarah looked wistful.
“How abnormal.” Janice gave a shiver.
“I don’t see how dancing and kissing and finding the man of your dreams can be construed as abnormal,” Cheryl Louise said.
“The bride and the groom having their parties at the same small-time honky-tonk is what’s whacked-out. Girl, how in God’s green earth are you supposed to let your hair down with your fiancé a few feet away?”
“I don’t have enough hair to let down. Besides, this is the only place in town that has a dance floor. The Pink Cadillac is much too small for two-stepping.”
The Pink Cadillac was the only bar inside the city limits. It was a great place to get together to visit and suck down a few cold ones, but it didn’t have the party atmosphere of a real sawdust-on-the-floor, country-crooning dance hall like Cherry Blossom Junction.
The bar was owned and operated by Eden Hallsey Weston, a bad girl in her own right who’d married the town’s golden boy a few years ago. The news had shocked everyone, especially Madeline, who’d heard from Janice, who’d heard from Cheryl Louise, who’d been at the wedding. Eden had always been so outrageous while Brady had walked the straight and narrow path set forth by his conservative family. They’d been opposites, yet they’d fallen madly in love anyway. Just like in a fairy tale.
Madeline didn’t do fairy tales. Hot, hunky, badass bad boys didn’t gravitate toward shy, geeky good girls.
Which was why she’d traded in the old Madeline when she’d rolled out of Cadillac the day after Sharon’s funeral. Maddie had seen for herself how precious life was, and she’d made up her mind then and there to live it to the fullest. That meant conquering her fears and taking chances. Being a bold, brazen woman who lived for the moment rather than the shy, geeky girl who’d spent her days dreaming and baking in her father’s doughnut shop.
While she wished Eden and Brady the best of luck, she wanted more out of life than a husband and a handful of kids and a boring existence in a desperately small town.
Particularly since said town held so many bad memories. Of being a nerd and getting overlooked by the boy of her dreams, and losing her closest and dearest friend.
Her lungs constricted and she forced her attention back to her friends and the conversation.
“…could have driven to Austin,” Janice pointed out. “I know this great little club that specializes in exotic male dancers.”
“And get back at the crack of dawn? I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.”
“Half-naked exotic male dancers,” Janice added.
“I like knowing that Jack is here.” Cheryl Louise waved again and Jack winked back before shifting his attention to his buddies.
“Cute, half-naked exotic male dancers.”
“Give it up,” Madeline told her. “G-strings don’t interest a woman who’s helplessly in love.”
“Unless it’s the man she loves wearing the G-string,” Brenda pointed out. “Cal wears one for me.”
“Come on, girls,” Cheryl Louise said. “Madeline needs to find a guy and our yapping isn’t going to help her concentrate.”
“So who wants her to concentrate?” Sarah asked. “Sorry, Madeline, but I want to win.”
“It’s just a game,” Cheryl Louise said, fingering the makeshift veil one of the girls had made for her. “A silly little game that’s supposed to be fun.”
“Girl, you say that because you’re about to trade in your bad-girl status and promise not to be bad, but there are those of us who’d like to keep our reputation.”
“You don’t have a reputation,” Cheryl Louise pointed out to Janice. “And you never had one. The only one who had anything remotely bad going for her was Sarah, and even she’s as boring as they come now. No offense, Sarah,” she said to the quiet redhead. “You’re just anxious to win so you don’t have to pick up Uncle Spur from the airport.”
“Uncle Spur’s coming to the wedding?” Madeline asked, her mind rushing back to her childhood and the ornery old man who’d come to visit Cheryl and Sharon every Christmas. He’d sat in the living room with his chewing tobacco and a soda can and offered an opinion on everything from making strawberry jam to the state of world politics. Uncle Spur had liked to talk. Even more, he’d liked being right.
“Of course he’s coming,” Cheryl Louise said. “He’s my oldest living relative. I couldn’t get married without Uncle Spur.” As though she just noticed the effect of her news, her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with Uncle Spur?”
“Nothing,” Madeline said. “It’s just…he’s quite a character.”
“An obnoxious character,” Brenda added.
“He spit on me the last time I saw him,” Janice said.
“He was just showing off,” Cheryl Louise explained. “He was the Waller County Spit-Off champ back then. But then the cataracts set in and he came in third to his two brothers. He never spits now. Besides, I would pick him up myself, but I don’t have time.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Madeline told her. “One of us will do it.”
“Yep,” Janice said. “The loser gets the privilege.” She turned on Madeline. “Pick someone, or forfeit and let Sarah take her turn. She’s next in line with points if you don’t pull this off.”
But Madeline wasn’t forfeiting. It wasn’t so much about winning—while Uncle Spur wasn’t the most pleasant person, Madeline could endure a two-hour drive from the airport with him if it meant helping out a friend. Rather, this game was about conquering her fears and living life. About proving to all of her friends, and herself, that she truly had changed when she’d left the comfort of her small town for the excitement of the big city. About picking the hottest, hunkiest guy in the honky-tonk and approaching him as bold as you please.
Something the old Maddie would have been too frightened and embarrassed to do because she’d been more content to fantasize about life than actually live it.
No more.
She glanced around, found her target standing just inside the doorway and summoned her courage. Her moment of truth had finally arrived.
THIS WAS A BIG WASTE of time.
The truth echoed in Austin Jericho’s brain the minute he stepped inside Cherry Blossom Junction, the one and only dance hall in Cadillac, Texas.
Not that Austin had anything against dance halls, particularly this one. The place had character. Once a train depot near the turn of the century, Cherry Blossom Junction was far from the typical Texas honky-tonk. Beers were served up from behind the original hand-carved ticket counters. Instead of a mechanical bull, the very first engine to chug out of the station sat in the far corner. Train schedules graced the walls rather than the typical neon beer signs. And when the band cranked up the “Orange Blossom Special,” an authentic train whistle blew along with the music.
Nope, it sure-as-shootin’ wasn’t the place itself Austin had a problem with.
It’s just that if a man had set his mind to add more fruit to his diet, he certainly wouldn’t mosey over to the Dairy Freeze for a double-dipped. Likewise, if a gambler had decided to save his money rather than throw it away, he would damned sure stay far away from Pete, the numbers runner at the bingo hall.
Since Austin had decided to find himself a nice, quiet, conservative woman to settle down with him on his ranch, Cherry Blossom Junction was definitely at the bottom of his potential meet-market list. He needed to stick to church picnics and bake sales to find the kind of filly that would make him happy for the long haul, a goal he’d been working on for the past three weeks.
He’d narrowed it down to a handful of prospects—Debbie the kindergarten teacher, Christine the registered nurse at the retirement home, Angela the church choir director, Jennifer the head of the local Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and Claire who ran the town’s only day care. They were all nice. Pretty. Wholesome. The trouble was, they all sort of blended together with their freshly baked apple pies and their show-me-the-ring-and-I’ll-show-you-some-lovin’ smiles, and he didn’t have a clue which one to choose.
But he’d given his word to Miss Marshalyn Simmons and he aimed to keep it. Miss Marshalyn had been the town’s librarian and expert cake baker for special events. She was also the most stubborn pigheaded woman ever to wag a finger at him and the closest thing to a mother he’d known since his own had passed away when he was five years old. He’d promised her that he would slow down and settle down in time for her going-away party—she was moving down to Florida to live with her sister. While the old woman wanted proof that he’d changed, she didn’t expect him to find and marry someone before she left. She merely wanted to see him with a serious, suitable candidate. In return, she’d pledged one hundred acres of prime pastureland.
While he was more than willing to buy the land, she’d refused to sell it to him. She wanted peace of mind, not money, and so she’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
The land wasn’t the only reason for his decision. While he’d reached a brick wall in his professional life—he needed that land to expand and beef up his herd—he’d also hit a big one in his personal life. A man could only work so much. When the sun set and the day was done, he had to head home.
But Austin didn’t have a home. Sure, he had his own place, bought and paid for with his own sweat. But he didn’t have a home—a warm, comforting place filled with plenty of laughter and good smells and warmth. Miss Marshalyn’s house had had all three, and it had been the closest thing to a real home he’d known way back when.
He wanted his own now and a family to go with it, and that meant finding the right kind of woman. The kind who taught Sunday school and helped old ladies across the street. The kind who planted a vegetable garden and shelled peas and made candied sweet potatoes. The permanent kind who had more on her mind than one night.
All the more reason he should be anywhere but inside Cherry Blossom Junction.
“Hey, buddy. Over here!” The familiar voice drew Austin’s attention.
His gaze shifted to the group of men clustered at the bar. Stetsons bobbed as heads turned and hands waved.
Austin couldn’t help but grin at the group, particularly the cowboy wearing a foam ball and chain around his neck and a Kiss Me I’m The Groom button.
Jack Beckham was one of Austin’s oldest friends and he was tying the knot tomorrow afternoon. Austin couldn’t very well miss giving his buddy a grand send-off just because he was on a time limit to find himself a suitable wife.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here. Shouldn’t you be cruising the bingo hall right now?”
Austin turned to see his younger brother grinning back at him, a buxom blonde hanging on his arm.
“It’s for a good cause. Besides, it’s seniors’ night and I’m looking for a woman a few years younger. I’m guessing you’re not taking Miss Marshalyn up on her offer?”
Houston Jericho, Austin’s middle brother and one of the best damned bull riders on the pro rodeo circuit, winked and pulled the blonde closer. “’Fraid not. I’m in no hurry to slow down and rope cows from now till kingdom come. That’s your dream, bro.”
“A man’s got to grow up sometime.”
Miss Marshalyn had made the same proposition to Houston when he’d surprised everybody and driven into town yesterday morning.
He’d been busy hitting every major rodeo in the United States, working his way up to the pro rodeo finals in Las Vegas in a few weeks. No one had expected him to take time off between rides to attend the wedding. But Houston and Jack went way back, as well. The man had been one of the few friends to all three Jericho brothers when they’d been kids.
And so Houston had come home.
But not to settle down, as he’d been quick to point out to Miss Marshalyn. Houston liked his life minus any roots. He was free, going where he wanted, when he wanted, and he intended to stay that way.
“I’ll leave the growing old to you,” he told his brother as he sipped a beer with his free hand.
“That’s growing up.”
“Same thing.” Houston winked. “I’ve got more bulls to ride, and at least one woman I haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know better.” He winked at the woman on his arm. “Ain’t that right, sugar?” He gave the blonde a quick kiss. “Besides, I like things just fine the way they are. Moving away from this place was the best thing I ever did.”
“You mean running away, don’t you?”
“I don’t run from anyone or anything,” he drawled, then turned and steered the blonde toward the dance floor. “Later, bro.”
Austin stared after Houston. He was running, all right. From the past. From the legacy that had haunted all three of the Jericho brothers since birth. Dallas, the youngest, had made peace with his past last year when he’d married his childhood sweetheart. He and his wife were expecting their first child, and they were happy. Content.
Austin wanted the same.
That’s what he told himself. But then he heard the soft, sexy, familiar voice. He felt a jolt of heat rush through him and suddenly he wanted something altogether different.
“Excuse me.”
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find himself staring into a pair of bright green eyes. The same eyes that had stared at him over an extralarge box of lubricated condoms earlier that day.
For the first time since Austin had vowed to find a wife, he actually wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t making a big mistake. Because suddenly hot and heavy sex in the here and now seemed a heck of a lot more appealing than peace and contentment somewhere in the far-off future.
3
EASY, HOSS.
Austin took a deep breath and tried to steady himself as one all-important fact registered—this was Maddie Hale. The bookworm who’d spent class time listening rather than writing notes back and forth with her friends.
Actually she’d written one note, but he’d done his damnedest in the past twelve years to forget all about the poetic declaration of love he’d happened upon purely by accident. He’d also tried to forget those few tension-filled moments standing near the concession stand when he’d looked at her, really looked at her, for the very first time.
Love note aside, she was still the shy girl who’d blushed at him from the safety of an algebra book and brought him homemade muffins.
The innocent who’d never once ventured behind the bleachers during a football game.
He knew the backside of those bleachers by heart. Hell, he’d carved most of those names himself and hers was not among the bunch. He’d be willing to bet his finest horse that she didn’t even know about the conquest bench. What’s more, he would lay down his entire spread that she’d never set her fine little bottom down and kissed up a Gulf hurricane with one of the locals, either.
Maddie had been too nice and wholesome and respectable for bleacher smooching. And that afternoon at Skeeter’s he’d been wrong to think she was anything but the same sweet girl now.
The proof dangled from Cheryl Louise’s head.
He stared past the top of Maddie’s soft blond hair, that smelled of sweet strawberries and cream, to the group of women sitting nearby.
A drape of white tulle decorated with condom packages sat atop the bride-to-be’s head. Six to be exact. The same brand, same size Maddie had purchased that afternoon. Obviously they hadn’t been meant for her personal use.
A crazy assumption in the first place. Maddie wasn’t the condom type. She was the quiet, mild, I’m-saving-it-all-for-the-man-of-my-dreams kind of girl. Why, she made muffins, for Chrissake! Big, giant, melt-in-your-mouth homemade blueberry muffins. Sure, they couldn’t compete with a bowl of Miss Marshalyn’s candied sweet potatoes, but they came in a close second.
Now that Austin had given up fast times and even faster women, Maddie was exactly his type of woman. On top of that, she was an old friend. The only female, in fact, who’d ever qualified for such a title.
Austin Jericho had never kept company with girls he’d had no sexual interest in. He’d always wanted something from them and they’d wanted something from him—namely a good round of red-hot, breath-stealing sex. Or several rounds.
Not Maddie.
The only thing she’d wanted from him had been his daily homework assignment and his full attention when she was explaining the newest algebra equation.
There’d been no sly glances, no fluttering eyelashes or wandering hands or heaving cleavage. Hell, he’d never even known she had cleavage, thanks to the sacklike flower-print dresses she’d always worn.
Except for that Friday night at the football game. She’d worn a red sweater and blue jeans and he’d actually realized she had a figure. Nice, round hips. Large breasts. But while shapely, the clothes hadn’t been revealing.
Not like what she wore now.
His attention shifted back to her and the enticing display of creamy flesh fully visible above the neckline of her black leather tank top. His gut hollowed for a long moment and his mouth went dry.
Easy, he told himself.
So what if she had visible cleavage? That didn’t mean she’d checked her morals at the door and turned into a bona fide, red-hot, give-it-to-me-now wild woman.
This was Maddie, he reminded himself, drawing a long pull on his beer.
The only girl he’d actually been able to talk to about stuff, like his love of horses and his desperation to do something other than perpetuate his family’s no-good reputation. He hadn’t worried about impressing her or sweeping her off her feet. He’d never even thought about her like that.
Okay, maybe that once, when he’d opened her love letter. But when he’d asked her about it at the football game, she’d sworn that it hadn’t been meant for him. He’d let things go at that, and he’d let her go. He’d walked off with Barbara Mayfield for a wild ride on his Harley and an even wilder ride in the back of her daddy’s old pickup.
His attention snagged on her lips. Soft, full, kissable lips. His heart bucked and his blood rushed and a certain part of his anatomy, a certain hard part, throbbed just thinking about what she would taste like.
“What do you say?” she asked, her sweet voice pushing past the pounding of his heart. “Are you up for a little two-stepping?”
He was up, all right. But his throbbing erection had little to do with dancing and everything to do with Maddie.
It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.
He could see why. She looked too sophisticated, too sexy, too…hot.
So?
Even if the package looked a little different, this was still Maddie. Nice, wholesome, respectable Maddie.
He smiled, set his beer on the bar and reached for her hand. “Lead the way, darlin’.”
THERE WAS NOTHING NICE, wholesome or respectable about the sexy woman in his arms.
The thought struck him the moment they moved onto the dance floor and she stepped into his arms.
The two-step had faded into a slow, sweet, cryin’ tune that required a little more contact than he’d anticipated. Her arms slid around his neck. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her pelvis cradled his, moving against him with a soft, subtle sway that sent a bolt of electricity straight from his hard-on to his brain.
The jolt scrambled his sanity, and instead of pushing her away and running for safety, he pulled her even closer and closed his eyes.
Her hair tickled the underside of his jaw. Her strawberries-and-cream scent filled his head. Her luscious curves pressed against his hard body. Her warmth seeped inside and made his blood rush faster.
His hand slid an inch lower, easing from the small of her back to the swell of her sweet little ass molded by the tight miniskirt. His other hand slid up her back, under the spill of hair to cup the back of her neck. His fingers pressed into her flesh and his thumb drew lazy circles against the tender spot just below her ear. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he heard her sigh—a soft, breathy sound that meant she liked his touch.
That it turned her on. That she wanted more. Right here. Right now.
For a split second, he inched toward her nipple puckered beneath the slick material of her halter top. He wanted desperately to slide his fingers beneath the plunging neckline and tease the ripe tip…
Slow down.
She was not the sort of girl to get busy on the dance floor in front of half the damned town. She was a good girl. Tame rather than wild. He had to slow down and behave himself.
His eyes popped open. He eased his hold and drew back to a respectable distance.
“What’s wrong?” She stared up at him, her green eyes glittering beneath the swirl of colored dance-hall lights. Her forehead wrinkled and he had the sudden urge to reach up and smooth the lines away with his fingertip. “Austin?” Surprise turned to concern. “Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah. I just think we need to slow things down a little.”
Instead of smiling because he was being a proper gentleman, she frowned. “I think things were going just fine.”
“We were moving too fast. Way too fast. I don’t like fast.”
“Since when?” She eyed him. “You were always racing around on your motorcycle, burning rubber down Main Street, and burning up the sheets with some lucky girl afterward.”
“How do you know I burned up the sheets?”
She stared up at him, a knowing look in her wide green eyes. Not a plain old grass green at all, but a deep, vibrant shade of jade that glittered and teased and dared him when she smiled.
Like now.
“Word gets around. You definitely liked fast.”
“The only thing fast in my life now is my cutting horse. Speaking of which—” he checked his watch “—I have to be up early and it’s getting late.” He pinned her with a stare. “Way past your bedtime if memory serves me.” She’d always been bright eyed in the morning. Always well rested from a full night’s sleep while he’d been barely able to keep his eyes open in class.
“That was before I realized what I was missing.” She gestured toward the table of women, their drinks raised in a toast. She waved. “The party’s just getting started.”
“I never figured you for a party girl.”
“Oh, I love parties!”
“Since when?”
“Since I left this hole-in-the-wall town and realized what I was missing.”
“A vicious hangover the morning after?”
“Hours of fun the night before.” Her eyes sparkled with meaning and his body throbbed. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. At least finish the dance before you call it a night.” She stepped up against him and twined her arms around his neck again.
He drew a deep breath and resisted the urge to pull her close and show her what she could do with her fuddy-duddy. Instead, he anchored his hands on her waist and did his damnedest to ignore the heat seeping into his fingertips and the sweet scent teasing his nostrils.
“So how are the libraries in Dallas?” he blurted, eager to prove that she was still the girl he remembered.
She’d loved the library. She’d spent every afternoon sitting in the corner with her nose buried in a book, a muffin beside her, while life at Cadillac High had passed her by. “Huge, I bet. Fully stocked with everything from Madame Bovary to The Life and Times of Marie Curie.” He recited two of the books he’d seen her with way back when.
“Actually, I’ve never been to a library in Dallas. I’m too busy.”
“You probably spend all your time in your lab. You were always holed up in the chemistry room when you weren’t in the library.”
“I do spend a lot of time at work, but not just in the lab. I’ve got marketing meetings and product demonstrations, and I do try to take time off to have fun.”
He remembered the so-called social activities she and her geeky friends had engaged in on Friday and Saturday nights when everyone else had been at football games or out cruising in their cars. Only sexy Sarah who’d had a reputation almost as bad as Austin’s had been the exception. “Poetry readings and baking?”
“Bungee jumping and rock concerts.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Rock concerts?”
“Creed. I’ve seen them twice. My first time, I marked the occasion with this.” She moved the veil of blond hair hanging over one shoulder and turned so he could see the back of one delectable shoulder. A small red devil smiled back at him.
A she-devil. As in hot, as in wild, as in give it to me now.
While his mind tried to register the fact that sweet, demure Maddie Hale had a tattoo, his body simply reacted. His mouth went dry. His heart jumped. The hard-on stretching his jeans tight throbbed in anticipation.
“It was my first concert and I went a little crazy.”
He swallowed and searched for his voice. “Damn straight you did,” he finally croaked.
“I was going to get something a little more tame, like a heart or Tweety Bird or something cute. But then I saw this and thought, what the hell? I can be as wild as the next woman.”
Hardly. She was sweet. Wholesome. Respectable. She couldn’t have changed that much, and Austin intended to prove it.
“You still eat blueberry muffins every afternoon?” He zeroed in on the memory of her sitting in the library, munching away as she waited for him. “One jumbo muffin every day at four.”
“Sure do.”
He drew in a deep breath. See? She hasn’t changed that much.
“English muffins. No butter.” At his outraged look, she added, “A girl’s got to watch her figure.”
Okay, so she’d climbed the thermometer a few degrees since high school. She was counting calories, worrying about keeping her curvaceous body in shape so that she could show it off with revealing clothes rather than flower-print dresses.
So what?
A great figure and revealing clothes and a party life and a tattoo didn’t mean she truly had morphed into the exact type of woman he’d sworn off when he’d made up his mind to settle down.
“But you loved blueberry muffins, and people shouldn’t give up things they love because society tells them to.” He recited the words she’d told him every time she’d seen one of the “in” girls scarfing carrot sticks. She’d wrinkled her nose and given him a lecture about society’s oppression of women, and how he should open his mind to all sorts of beauty. And he’d enjoyed every minute. Very few people had ever cared enough about his opinion to try to change it.
Except Maddie.
“Muffins are way too fattening.”
“You always wore a bike helmet when you pedaled around town on that three-speed of yours.” He was grasping, but a guy had to do what a guy had to do.
“Yeah, but now I like to feel the breeze blow through my hair. I even graduated to a ten-speed.” Her eyes lit. “It’s really fast.”
“You always carried an umbrella even when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”
She shrugged. “It’s fun getting caught in the rain.”
“The girl I remember wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a leather halter top in a place like this.”
“And the boy I remember wouldn’t be wasting time talking with a woman wearing a leather halter top in a place like this when he could be doing other, more important, things.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She eyed him, licked her lips and murmured, “Kiss me.”
Austin stared at her damp mouth for one heart-stopping moment and imagined what she would taste like.
Tart, like the wine she’d been drinking. And hot. Like the woman she’d become—his hottest, most erotic fantasy.
“Pretty please.”
Her soft plea pushed past the frantic pounding of his heart and chipped away at his resolve.
He drank in a deep breath of her, let his gaze linger on her slick, full lips for a long, hungry moment and then Austin did the only thing a man who’d made up his mind to settle down for good could do—he turned and walked the other way.
Because Austin had given up indulging his fantasies. A fantasy was temporary. One night. Maybe a few if it was a really good fantasy. But he wanted more. He wanted each day, every day, from here on out. He wanted to plant roots and build a home and make babies with a woman who wanted the same.
The new and improved Madeline Hale, with her big-city ways and her big-city life, had one-night stand written all over her.
4
“HERE’S THE FLIGHT NUMBER and the arrival time.” Cheryl Louise scribbled the information on a napkin the next morning as she sat across from Madeline at Chester’s Diner.
Madeline slathered fat-free yogurt on her whole-wheat toast and did her best to ignore the smell drifting from across the table of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup. While she indulged in Oreos for the sake of creativity, there was nothing at stake now except her deprived taste buds.
Back in Dallas, it was so much easier to keep her normal routine. She worked so hard that she barely had time to think about food. When she did, it was much easier to shake the cravings. She had only to glance around V.A.M.P.’s executive offices at the svelte women in their designer suits and name-brand shoes to motivate herself. Maddie had spent her entire adolescence not fitting in. No more. She fit in just fine back in Dallas.
Here in Cadillac, there wasn’t a Gucci jacket or a pair of leather Pradas in sight. There was food. Lots of home-cooked, mouthwatering food. And conversation. And…warmth.
She shook the thought away and fixed her attention on the nervous bride-to-be sitting across the scarred Formica tabletop.
“Make sure you’re there early and make sure you’ve got a sign or something so he’ll know who you are.”
“He’s on a commuter flight with eighty pounds of horse feed and three new hogs for the Double D Ranch. The only other person who’ll be at the airport is old Mr. Denton. I doubt I could get lost in the crowd.”
“Promise you’ll carry a sign. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be. And Uncle Spur’s not used to being in the big city.”
“We’re in Cadillac. Population three thousand. No McDonald’s. No after-hours grocery store. No tanning bed.”
“Donna Mae Walters over at the Toss-n-Tease put in a stand-up tanning unit last year.”
“Okay, so the town’s come of age. It still doesn’t qualify as a huge metropolis.” At Cheryl’s worried expression, she added, “I’ll keep the radio on an AM farm station and we won’t go near the Toss-n-Tease. That way he won’t have major culture shock.”
“Thanks so much.” Cheryl Louise smiled and nibbled at her pancakes. “I was hoping you’d be the one to do this. The other girls tend to let him get under their skin. The last time he came down for my graduation, he told Sarah that she should stop coloring her hair and let it go natural.”
“Red is her natural color.”
“That’s what she told Uncle Spur, but then he demanded proof.”
“But how could she prove…” Her thoughts trailed off as she did a mental evaluation of all the possibilities. Realization dawned and her eyes widened. “He didn’t.”
“He didn’t mean it in a sexual way, of course. He’s a sweet old man, but practical. He handed her a pair of tweezers.”
“Ouch.” She grinned. “I bet Sarah told him where to get off.”
“Believe it or not, she went through with it and proved him wrong. Not that it was enough. He said it wasn’t hers and he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a DNA match to verify ownership.” Her voice lowered. “He’s sort of bored out there and I think he watches a little too much TV at times. Anyway, she said no, but then he came after her with a pair of scissors. He didn’t catch her, of course, but by the end of the party, she was in tears.”
“Tears? Our Sarah? She’s never cried over anyone or anything.” Except once, at Sharon’s funeral. They’d all cried, except for Madeline. It had taken all of her strength just to stand beside the grave and breathe. Afterward she’d climbed into her car and left her small unsophisticated, going-nowhere town far behind, the way Sharon had always wanted to.
Sharon?
No, Maddie had wanted to leave, as well, and she’d done just that. She’d left her old life, her old self and her haunting memories of that night, and headed off to pursue her own dreams.
And boy, have I got a piece of beachfront property smack-dab in the middle of Kansas to sell you.
She ignored the nagging voice and the image that niggled at the back of her mind. A clear, star-studded sky. A gravel road. An enormous tree…
She shifted in her seat, suddenly anxious to do something. “Can I have a bite?” she blurted before reaching over for a piece of Cheryl’s pancakes.
The sugary sweet flavor of maple exploded on her tongue and consumed her senses, and she concentrated on chewing.
“Um, sure. In fact, I’m not really hungry.” She slid the plate toward Madeline. “Anyhow, he scared off Sarah right then and there. The others are just as leery of him, but I know you won’t let Uncle Spur ruffle you.”
Way back when maybe.
But not now. She dealt with snotty marketing personnel and a bitch of a research director on a daily basis. She could hold her own with a difficult old man.
“I can handle it,” she said, taking another bite. She would have to handle it, because she’d lost the game.
Thanks to Austin.
One measly kiss. That’s all she’d wanted from him. She might as well have asked for his balls on a platter. That’s how horrified he’d looked when she’d made the request.
Far from the reaction she’d anticipated, considering that he’d actually given her The Look with those liquid blue eyes. The Look that said I want you and I aim to have you.
Not that she’d ever been on the receiving end of one of his legendary looks. He’d reserved those for the school bad girls who’d always flocked around him. But for a little while last night, she’d felt like one of those bold women instead of the shy, frumpy goody-goody she’d been all those years ago. She’d felt truly attractive and drop-dead gorgeous and wanted.
Felt? To hell with that. She was all three, even if Austin Jericho hadn’t recognized it. He was obviously still stuck in the past, viewing her in all her Gem glory.
Geeky.
Brainy.
Matronly.
As the familiar words she’d heard from her peers time and time again echoed through her head, she became aware of the mouthful of syrup and pancakes tantalizing her taste buds. She swallowed and pushed the plate away.
Cheryl glanced at her watch. “I have to run. I’ll meet you at the house later to introduce you to my plants and go over Twinkles’s hygiene schedule.”
Twinkles had a hygiene schedule?
The question echoed through her mind and another sliver of apprehension went through her. Madeline fought it back down and smiled. Twinkles was just a dog, even if he did have a hygiene schedule, and Madeline liked dogs. While she didn’t actually have an animal of her own—she wasn’t home enough to take care of one—she’d always loved cute, cuddly puppies. As for the plants…how hard could daily watering be?
“Have fun at the hairdresser and try to enjoy the rest of the day.”
“I’ll enjoy the honeymoon, especially knowing that you’re looking out for Twinkles and my girls.” She stood and gathered up her purse and bridal book. “Oh, and don’t forget the sign. Uncle Spur can’t see to save his life.”
“WELL, WELL. Just call me a three-legged jackrabbit and put me out of my misery if it ain’t Maddie Hale.”
Time seemed to have stood still for Spur Tucker. He’d looked ancient then with his shock of snow-white hair and his leathery skin, and he’d changed little. He stooped a fraction more and his hair had thinned some. Otherwise, he was every bit the man she remembered from all those childhood Christmases, with the exception of his eyes. Rather than cloudy and gray as they’d been back then, they were now a clear, crystal blue.
She peered closer. “You know who I am?” She hadn’t even held up her sign, complete with extra bold letters.
“’Course I do. What do you think I am, blind or something?”
“Well,” she started, but he cut her off.
“Well, I ain’t. Cataract surgery. My vision’s as first-rate as the rest of me.”
“That’s good.”
“’Course it is.” His face crinkled as he narrowed his eyes and sized her up. “I see you still got plenty of meat on them bones of yours.”
“And I see you’re still every bit as charming.”
“’Course I am, and I’m also a whole lot wiser.” He handed several bags to her and picked up the lightest. “Speaking of which, let’s get going ’cause I ain’t of a mind to waste time. I got things to do.”
“The wedding’s not until later tonight.” Madeline picked up the largest bag and her shoulder wrenched. “You’ve got time for a little nap.”
“A nap? Hells bells, I ain’t got time to sleep. I still have to shower and shave, polish my boots, squirt on some of the vanilla extract I packed just for special occasions. I aim to look and smell my Sunday best.”
“I’m sure Cheryl Louise will appreciate that.” She hoisted bag number two. “You must have packed an awful big bottle of vanilla.”
“Those are extra vittles. A man’s got to eat and I know how you women are. Why, you’re liable to torture me with rabbit food for the next few days.” He gave her another once-over. “’Course you probably got some vittles of your own stashed away. Why, you could probably hibernate a good six months with what you got stored in them hips of yours.”
She let the suitcase slip from her hands and watched his look go from smug to panicked as his luggage dropped to the floor.
“Whoops, sorry about that,” she muttered.
“Lordy be, just tote the danged thing. Don’t throw it around.” He shook his head. “And all the primping ain’t for Cheryl Louise. It’s for the future Mrs. Spur Nathaniel Elijah James Tucker.”
“You’re engaged?”
“Sure am.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I will be once I narrow down the playing field. I figure that ought to take a good fifteen minutes. Maybe ten. There are a lot of prime cutting horses at the Newfolk Auction, too, but I can always pick the best of ’em in less than ten minutes.”
“You really intend to find a wife this weekend?” She struggled after him with the bags.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I thought you were here for Cheryl Louise’s wedding.”
“It’s called killing two hogs with one load of buckshot. Since this here’s a social event, I thought I’d do double duty. Pay my respects to the bride and groom and find my own little bride to fetch back home.” He picked up his steps. “Enough of this chitchat. Get a move on. I don’t aim to keep the future missus wait-in’.”
SHE SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT the bread maker.
Madeline came to that conclusion the minute she walked inside Cheryl Louise’s family home two hours later and came face-to-face with Twinkles.
Literally.
Twinkles was a Great Dane and far, far removed from the cute and cuddly puppy stage. Standing on his hind legs, his paws braced on her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye. His snout bopped her in the nose. A fat, wet tongue flopped out and licked at her face.
“He’s really…big,” she told Sarah, who’d met her at the house since Cheryl Louise was still stuck at the hairdresser.
“He’s big and several years old, but still as playful as a puppy.”
“Is that where he got the name Twinkles?”
“‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ is his favorite lullaby. He likes to hear it every night after his evening walk.” Sarah grabbed a spiral notebook from the nearby coffee table and flipped several pages. “He likes ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ after his morning walk, which should follow Live with Regis and Kelly—that’s his favorite TV show.” She held up the notebook. “It’s all right here. There’s a detailed schedule for feeding and hygiene, as well as a page with lyrics in case you’re not up on your lullabies. And a TV schedule, as well. Oh, Cheryl also included a picture diagram of Twinkles with a list of the exact spots where he likes to be scratched. The last few pages contain information on the plants. They’re all on the sun porch out back. Each pot is labeled with a name and an age.”
“And a lullaby?”
“Actually, they like country music. There’s a CD player out back complete with a stack of George Strait CDs. Each is labeled with a time slot and a preferred song.” Sarah must have noticed Madeline’s shocked look. “Look on the bright side, at least Tilly the farting poodle is going with them. Besides, it’s only two weeks. They almost went to Australia, which would have meant a solid three.”
“Want to time-share with me?”
“I went for a popcorn maker myself. Speaking of which, I need to get going. I have to run by my house and grab the gift before I head for the church. I picked up the dresses at the dry cleaners. Yours is hanging over there.”
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