Roxie

by Kimberly Dean

  She was still whip lean. Her weight felt warm in his arms. Right. A curl of her long hair brushed against his neck, and the soft caress made him take a deep breath. Even through the thickness of their jackets, he could feel her curves pushing back against him.

  She dealt with the lock and the door swung open, gliding silently on well-worn hinges. Turning so he wouldn’t hit her head, he carried her inside. The dim lighting inside the bar made it momentarily difficult to see, but the memory that struck him then was as brilliant as a lightning strike.

  The last time he’d carried her over the threshold, they’d just gotten married by a justice of the peace at the Cobalt City Courthouse.

  His gut tightened a notch. She’d worn a pretty white dress with hot pink flowers in her hair. Hell, he’d even worn a tie.

  The bar slowly came into view, but what he saw instead was the tiny apartment they’d furnished with pieces from the Goodwill. It had been their first place. Their first attempt at normalcy.

  His arms tightened around her, and her warm breath hit his ear.

  He quickly set her down. She wasn’t ready for it, and she wobbled on her one tall heel. He caught her by the waist, but she’d already propped herself up against the wall.

  Billy couldn’t help himself. He stepped in.

  Her eyes were big as she looked up at him. Her pupils were adjusting to the lighting, too, but something told him he wasn’t the only one focused on the old memory. They’d both been nervous and excited that day, like two fugitives running for the border. Marrying him had been her escape from the system, and he’d been willing to do just about anything to keep her with him.

  That wayward curl still clung to the zipper of his jacket. Swirling his finger around it, he freed it.

  “I like how you are with your sisters,” he said softly.

  “The bad seed?”

  “Happy.” It had been a long time since he’d seen her light up the way she did around them. She’d gotten so prickly and guarded.

  Her gaze slid away. “I don’t always think when I’m with them. I sometimes wonder if I should be more careful… before they decide I’m too wild…”

  He caught her by the chin when he heard her voice catch. “Those two aren’t going to ditch you, Roxie.”

  “How can you know that?”

  It was a fair question. They’d both been left behind, overlooked, and passed along their entire childhood. “Because they need you. Those two need you like an engine needs gasoline—just like you need them.”

  She swallowed hard. “But today… I might have gone a bit too far.”

  He chuckled. “Ya think?”

  “The prude deserved it,” she said with a pout.

  He shook his head. “Baby, if you want to flash your boobs at someone, I’m right here.”

  The words weren’t even out before they turned husky. Sexual. Memories of their wedding day quickly turned to visions from last night.

  Hot, steamy visions.

  They hadn’t really dealt with what had happened. They hadn’t been alone since she’d sneaked out of bed. Her sisters were gone now, but Billy wasn’t really in the mood to talk. His gaze dropped helplessly to her breasts. Her chest was rising and falling in a rhythm too fast for normal respiration.

  He braced his hand against the wall alongside her head.

  “You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

  “I had to meet my sisters.”

  His cock hadn’t cared.

  He settled his other hand at her waist, and his thumb brushed back and forth. Last night had been wild and crazy, too. Had she been thinking then?

  They did so much better together when they didn’t think.

  Leaning in, he finally did what he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the bar hours earlier.

  He kissed her.

  Slowly, sexily, he melded his mouth with hers.

  A shudder went through her and then a groan. The broken heel of her boot bounced off the toe of his as her hands came up to clench at his jacket.

  She gave a tug, and he settled his weight against hers, trapping her against the wall.

  Damn, she felt good. Her curves cushioned all his hard places. Her breasts were soft against his chest, and her thigh rubbed against the outside of his leg.

  His grip tightened on her waist, and he deepened the kiss. She tasted sweet, like the chocolate donut she’d had for breakfast. Sweet and…

  He sucked in a hard breath when she nipped at his bottom lip.

  Sassy.

  He couldn’t have stopped his hips from swinging forward if he’d tried. Her softness cradled the erection growing behind the zipper of his jeans as the kiss became hotter and hungrier.

  Damn, he wanted her. Last night hadn’t been near enough.

  “Roxie,” he rasped against her lips.

  God, why had they broken up?

  His thoughts became disjointed as her tongue slid against his.

  Oh yeah. That’s right, because he’d been reckless.

  He’d been street racing, drinking, and then there’d been that pregnancy scare. They’d simply been too young with personalities that were too big. Passion that was too intense.

  Together, they’d imploded.

  She let out a whimper, and he fisted his fingers in her hair. The softness nearly sent him to his knees.

  The repercussions still hurt, but he couldn’t stay away. He kept coming back for this, for her. She knew him. She got him. He couldn’t stay away, even knowing he’d get hurt in the end.

  She was like his drug.

  The thought jolted him out of the erotically charged moment.

  His drug.

  Oh, holy Jesus.

  He pulled back as if he’d just put jumper cables on backwards. He stared at her, his mouth going dry even as her kiss was wet on his lips.

  Her hands stilled on him, hesitant. “Billy?”

  He’d joked about it before, but all that talk earlier about his mother was suddenly reverberating in his ears. She was an addict, too, one he hadn’t forgiven for her weakness. Was he the same? Had the apple not fallen far from the tree? Was he hooked on the highs that only Roxie could make him feel?

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  When he didn’t—couldn’t—respond, the haziness of arousal left her face. Her soft brown eyes turned hard. She jerked away and her shoulders slammed against the wall.

  He took another step back and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Was it true? Was that the reason he kept coming back and putting himself through the wringer? He’d dated other women, but none of them had made his heart pound and his gut knot in need. None of them had let him feel the ecstasy of the highs and the crushing darkness of the lows.

  Every time he came here, he left worse for the wear. There was something about the two of them together; they just weren’t good for each other. He knew it in his head, yet that had never been enough to keep him away.

  He jonesed for her too badly.

  He pushed out a breath of air.

  Shit.

  She watched him warily, her hands bracing against the wall behind her.

  Billy turned away. His gaze landed on two things, his bag and her computer. Everything inside him told him to grab his stuff and go, yet he’d promised to help her with her search for her parents.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked, her voice flat as asphalt pavement. “As always?”

  “I said I’d help you.” And that meant staying.

  Being around her. Smelling that entrancing lavender scent she always wore. Watching her hips sway as she strutted around in those ridiculously sexy boots.

  Heaven help him.

  He faced her again, every muscle in his body tight. The look she gave him so jagged, he couldn’t meet it. He knew he was giving off mixed signals, but he was having a hard time wrapping his brain around the truth that had just slammed into him.

  He was addicted to her.

  “Don’t look at me like th
at,” he said in a low tone. “You’re the one who jumped me last night. I’m just stopping it before it goes too far.”

  She muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

  He stepped back, disengaging further. “I need to get out of here.”

  Her jaw hardened, but there was disappointment in her eyes. A sadness she didn’t want him to see. He grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder. “We’ll start the search tomorrow.”

  Swearing softly, Billy headed for the door, not looking back. Hitting the road was probably the sanest thing he could do… put some distance between them. But that was what he always did, wasn’t it? Look how well that always turned out.

  He raked a hand through his hair as the door to The Ruckus slammed behind him. They weren’t even fighting this time, but things were getting weird. Emotional… uncomfortable… And his craving for her was getting stronger than ever.

  Damn, he was a head case.

  A brisk breeze hit him, and he hunched deeper into his jacket. He needed to find an engine to work on, something old and greasy and rusted. Because, God knew, he needed to fix some things.

  * * * * *

  Roxie was cranky. Cranky in the sense of being grumpy, tired, and sexually frustrated.

  She still wasn’t sure what had gone down with Billy earlier today. He’d nearly melted her kneecaps before things had come to an abrupt halt, and she wasn’t one who dealt with teasing well—especially after she’d climbed upstairs to her apartment, in stocking feet mind you, and had found evidence of him there, too. The bed had still been rumpled, and the sheets had smelled like his cologne. He’d made her ache, damn him, and then he’d screwed with her head.

  If there was one surefire way to piss her off, that was it.

  Problem was, right now she had to be pleasant.

  “I’m sorry about the noise out there,” she said as affably as she could muster through clenched teeth. The bar was busy and she wanted to keep it that way, so she led her visitors into her office. They weren’t unexpected, but they certainly weren’t making her day any better.

  She placed herself behind her desk in a conscious power move. “Now, what is all this about a complaint?”

  She stared calmly at the two men standing across from her. Both wore all black, with shiny metal badges. One wore his clipped onto his belt, while the younger one pinned his proudly onto his chest. She could wind the newbie around her pinkie. It was the older one, the one built like a tank with a crisp crew cut that concerned her.

  “Some kind of disturbance?” she said sweetly.

  She didn’t really need to ask. The prudish librarian had called in to complain.

  Probably because her boobs weren’t as nice as Roxie’s.

  Roxie stood a little straighter, arching her back. The bar area was so warm, she’d stripped down to her black tank top. Hey, if you got ’em, flaunt ’em.

  She saw the way the younger cop’s eyes widened and then flashed determinedly back to his notepad.

  “We had a report of a woman matching your description disrupting traffic on I-67,” he said, reading his notes. “This woman had climbed the billboard your establishment has posted near the bridge.”

  A woman. Singular. Well, that was the first thing that had gone right today.

  “Oh, that?” She gave her best innocent look. “It was just a little publicity stunt. We had our grand reopening yesterday.”

  She smiled and gestured back towards the bar as the beat from the jukebox thumped through the walls. As she’d predicted, the place was packed tonight.

  So packed, it was giving even her a headache.

  But wait, it had been Billy who’d caused that. The fink. The sexy, bad boy, so-gorgeous-he-made-her-sigh fink.

  A growl bubbled up in her throat, but she quickly caught herself.

  “You can’t go around climbing billboards, Ms. Cannon,” Officer Crew Cut said firmly. “You could have caused an accident by distracting all those motorists.”

  Like drivers hadn’t been distracted by that billboard for months. Tilting her head, Roxie let her hair fall forward. “Could you tell me what exactly the caller said I did?” she asked, winding a curl around her finger.

  The young officer’s cheeks flared red. “She claimed you…” He coughed. “Exposed your… ahem… breasts in public.”

  Roxie let her eyes widen just enough. “Oh, no. That didn’t happen.”

  Technically, her curves had been covered by her bra. Her good hot pink one, in fact. She was wearing it even as they spoke.

  Acting embarrassed, she folded her arms over her chest, but discretely plumped her curves even higher. “The caller must have been talking about the billboard itself. You see, my… breasts are rather exposed in that big, detailed, laser-printed image.”

  She let her eyelids go heavy. “Have you seen it?”

  Oh yeah, they’d seen it. The young cop blushed red, but the older one’s eyes narrowed. Roxie’s antenna went on the alert, worried that she’d pushed the act too far, before she saw the hint of a smile on his hard face.

  She decided to take a chance she probably shouldn’t. “In fact, my sisters have been begging me to have the sign company cover me up better.”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “No, no. Don’t be,” the earnest young cop said quickly. He hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from her chest ever since she’d crossed her arms.

  “Sisters?” the older cop asked.

  Just as she’d hoped he would.

  She turned around a picture on her desk to face him. Smiling at the officers now were three happy brunettes with brown eyes, slender figures, and matching pearly whites.

  Crew Cut frowned.

  “Wow, you all look so much alike,” the newbie said, his brow furrowing.

  Roxie stroked her fingers over the top of the photo’s frame. “That’s because we’re identical triplets.”

  The grizzled cop let out a grunt. In some galaxy, it might even have been considered a laugh.

  “Identical…” The younger man was not following.

  Roxie met the older cop’s gaze. He really was sexy in that tough, don’t mess with me, sort of way. Humor definitely lit his eyes. He knew what was what, but he also knew his time would be better served investigating some of the scroungier drinkers out in the main bar area. “We can’t prove it was her,” he explained to the younger man.

  “But… it was probably one of them…”

  The sunny expression slipped from Roxie’s face, and she planted her hands on her hips. “It was me.”

  “We’re going to let you go with a warning,” the veteran said right over her.

  Roxie was tired of flirting and acting as if she wasn’t in the mood to rip out a wolverine’s throat. There was no way she was going to drag her sisters into this mess. Cam would have a freaking fit, and Zac would put up with ribbing for months.

  “But…” The young pup was dying to up his arrest record. The intent was clear on his face.

  She’d judged the two poorly. She never would have made that mistake if her head was on right.

  “Stay away from the billboard, Ms. Cannon,” Crew Cut said. Shaking his head, he took the notebook out of the trainee’s hand and stuffed it back into the kid’s chest pocket.

  “But…”

  “Yes, sir.” Roxie knew when to take a cue. She smiled her most beatific smile, the one she saved strictly for cops who let her off. “I appreciate that, Officer.”

  She rounded her desk and opened the door before he could change his mind. Crew Cut was ready to go, and she wasn’t going to stop him. “I’m sorry if I inconvenienced the two of you, having to drive out here.”

  She was already ushering the pair through the kitchen and back into the bar. The smell of bar food and beer permeated the air. The beat of the music got louder and the bass notes were joined by a hard-driving melody when they stepped through the swinging doors.

  Crew Cut
looked around the bar. “No worries. We’ll probably be back later.”

  Roxie sent out warning messages with her glare as she cut through the crowd with her police escort. No doubt about that. The feel of the place was energized, but it wasn’t the celebratory mood of the night before. The bar was cruising for a bruising tonight, she could feel it, but she wanted any altercations to happen off the premises.

  Turning, she smiled at Cobalt City’s best. “Please come back sometime during your off hours. I’d be happy to—”

  The words cut off when she spotted someone glowering at her, someone who took her day from bad to craptastic. The blond GQ model wannabe took a step towards her with fire in his eyes, but she stopped him with an abrupt “zip it” gesture.

  “Buy you a drink,” she finished, plastering that smile back on her face. She looked quickly at their badges. “Officers Kern and Russell. On the house. Skeeter?”

  The bouncer was at her side in an instant. Nobody in a biker bar liked cops. They made people itchy. The bouncer escorted the policemen to the door and Roxie turned, bracing herself with her feet spread wide. The fact that her toes hurt in an old pair of boots didn’t help her attitude.

  “Where are they going?” Landers Underhill said, pouncing on her like a barracuda that smelled blood. “They should be taking you in.”

  “Shush it, daddy’s boy,” Roxie hissed, making a slashing movement with her hand, “unless you want to drag Lexie into this.”

  The last thing she needed was for Lexie’s brother to stick his nose into the mess.

  “Me drag Lexie into it?” he snarled, although his volume did turn down a notch. “You’re the one who’s dragging her down in the gutter every time I turn around. Did you see the news? There’s a reporter and video crew out there right now. You’re making that damn billboard their lead story again.”

  “So?” Roxie growled, cocking her head. “That’s my business.”

  “You know it’s not. With that face, every time you get into trouble, you drag Lexie and the Underhills right along with you. It happened with that newspaper story, and it’s happening again.”

  “Is it?” Roxie said, hair swinging as she took a step forward. Her entire body vibrated with anger. “To my memory, that newspaper story didn’t affect Underhill Associates one bit. You just took it out on Lexie.”