24 Hours Bundle

by Jo Leigh

  He’d been wrong.

  There had been a new kid at school and he’d been better. Rance had lost all of his marbles that day, and most of the ones that belonged to his two brothers.

  Rance remembered crying only two times in his life. That had been the first time. He’d gone home and bawled his eyes out. He’d been bawling, as a matter of fact, when Deanie had come knocking. She’d held a great big bag of jawbreakers in her small hands.

  “Jawbreakers?” He swiped at his tears and sniffled.

  “For the ones you lost,” she told him.

  “They weren’t jawbreakers, doofus. They were marbles. I can’t shoot jawbreakers.”

  She frowned as she stared at the bag, as if thinking hard for the first time. And then she smiled and popped one into her mouth. “No, but you can eat them.”

  She held the bag out to him and he had the urge to tell her to get lost. But something about the way she looked at him, her blue eyes warm and full of understanding, made him want to reach out.

  He took a jawbreaker and popped it into his mouth. Cherry exploded on his tongue and he smiled, too.

  She’d been there the second time in his life when he’d cried, as well. He’d been sixteen then and he’d just lost both his parents. He’d barely arrived home after the double funeral before the townsfolk had started to arrive. They’d brought everything from ham to casseroles. Miss Jackie had brought her famous red velvet cake and Miss Myrtle had brought homemade bread and strawberry preserves. But he hadn’t had an appetite for any of it. He’d felt sick inside. Empty. Dead.

  And then he’d opened the door to find Deanie standing there with a great big bag of jawbreakers. She hadn’t said a word. No “I’m sorry for your loss” or “Let me know if I can do anything.” She’d just stared at him with her bright blue eyes and popped a candy into her mouth. Then she’d handed the bag to him.

  He’d done the same and while he’d sucked the cherry coating off, he’d actually felt better.

  As the memories swirled in his head, he couldn’t help the sudden feeling that maybe he’d been a genuine dumb ass back then. Maybe Deanie had been the perfect girl and he just hadn’t been able to see past her T-shirts, baggy jeans or mud-covered cowboy boots.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have walked away that night down by the creek.

  And maybe your pride’s just hurt, buddy.

  Maybe. Probably.

  There was only one way to prove it.

  If the lust eating him up from the inside out was the result of his wounded ego, it would fade once he and Deanie had a good, old-fashioned roll in the hay. Then she could get on with her “education” and he could stop thinking those damnable what-ifs.

  And if it didn’t?

  As soon as the question struck, Rance squashed it. It would. He had his flaws, but he couldn’t have been that blind. Any more than he could have said yes to her that night. She’d been too young and he’d been too old, and it just wouldn’t have been right.

  He picked up his steps, careful to add a nice, pained looking limp to his gait, and called out. “Wait up!”

  She turned toward him and he caught her stare.

  Suspicion glimmered in her true blue gaze, but not before he’d seen the flash of concern. She said something to the driver, leaned over and shoved open the door.

  Rance grinned and climbed in next to her.

  4

  DEANIE WANTED to strangle him.

  The moment they were out of the cab, and out of sight of any witnesses, she intended to slide her hands around his strong, taut, tanned throat and squeeze. Her fingers flexed from the memory of his warm skin beneath her fingertips and anticipation zipped along her nerve endings.

  Forget strangling. She needed a noncontact, long-distance way to do him in. Guilt snuck through her for a split second. After all, this was Rance. Her one and only. The man.

  Then, she reminded herself.

  So what if he’d shared his lunch with her the time she’d forgotten hers? Or that he’d been the first boy—nonrelative, that is—she’d ever danced with? Or that he’d always jumped in when anyone bigger had been picking on her? Heck, he’d even jumped in when one of her own brothers had given her a hard time.

  Not that she’d needed his interference. She’d had a right hook her brothers had feared.

  But it had felt good when he’d taken up for her.

  She slid a sideways glance at him and his stare caught hers. His lips tilted in a knowing grin and a rush of heat bolted through her. Only a few feet of vinyl separated them in the small cab. She could feel the heat from his body. Smell the delicious aroma of fresh air, clean soap and confidence that was all Rance McGraw.

  He was confident, all right. He’d intentionally screwed up her plans.

  For now. But in twenty-four hours, she was climbing back onto that plane and continuing with her trip. Regardless of what he had up his sleeve.

  Or in his pants.

  She remembered the feel of his groin pressed into her stomach and her nipples pebbled.

  Bad nipples.

  She inched closer to the door, rolled down the window and let the island breeze cool her hot cheeks. Her mind rewinded back to her earlier train of thought. Murder. Noncontact.

  Maybe a gun. Or even a rock. She had had a pretty good aim with a slingshot way back when. Her oldest brother, Cory, still had a scar where she’d nailed him when he’d been taunting her from his tree house. He’d been twelve and she’d been five—too young to actually climb up—and so she’d fired away. He’d squawked and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  She smiled at the memory.

  “What are you thinking?” Rance asked.

  “Of effective ways to eliminate you.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” She leveled a stare at him and focused on the aggravation bubbling inside her. “I don’t like being manipulated.”

  “It was a kiss, Teeny.”

  “To manipulate me into changing my mind about this trip, which I’m not going to do. You can just call Clay, tell him I’m a big girl and that I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Silence settled between them for several long moments as they sped down the palm tree-lined road that led to the island’s one and only resort. She fixed her gaze on the passing landscape and tried to tune out his presence.

  “You really are mad, aren’t you?” he finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Hey,” he grinned and leaned toward her as if he’d just thought of some great secret that would make everything better. “You remember that time Bobby McFarland climbed onto the bus with that hunk of dry ice in his lunch kit? He dumped his soda on it and it started smoking, and the bus driver thought he’d started a fire. So we were stranded.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. It had been sort of funny.

  They’d all sat on the side of the road until Romeo’s one and only fire truck had rolled up to examine the situation—the driver had been freaked out and had ordered everyone to evacuate the bus. She’d refused to walk back on and assess the “fire” herself. They’d been three hours late to school that day.

  One of the best days of Deanie’s life.

  Not only had she missed her fourth grade spelling test she hadn’t had time to study for, but she’d spent the extra time playing tic-tac-toe with Rance. And talking. And laughing.

  Since none of her brothers had been on the bus with her that morning—two had been home with the flu and the other three had had to go in early to work on various projects—Deanie had had Rance’s complete attention. While there had been a dozen other kids to choose from, he’d sat with her.

  He’d liked her.

  But he hadn’t liked her. She hadn’t been pretty enough or girlie enough to stir anything more than friendship, and so he’d never so much as kissed her.

  Until now.

  Her gaze fell to her lap where she’d placed her hands. They looked pale against the hot pink material. She tried to wiggle her toes, b
ut the high heels hugged her feet too tight. She drew in a deep breath and felt her breasts press against the snug bodice.

  She certainly looked different now, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think it had sparked his sudden interest.

  “At least we’re stranded smack dab in the middle of paradise this time,” his deep voice drew her from her thoughts before she could think too hard about the question.

  “The Travel Channel’s Number One Caribbean Hot Spot,” the driver chimed in from the front seat.

  “That’s right,” Rance added. “Number one spot.”

  “Whatever you like—scuba, snorkeling, fishing, waterskiing—the hotel can hook you up,” the driver added. “And don’t forget to try The Falls.”

  “What’s that?” Rance asked.

  “A five star restaurant built around a natural waterfall fed lagoon. They’ve got the best stuffed crabs around and they make a great pineapple margarita.”

  “You could definitely use one of those,” Rance told Deanie. “You’re much too uptight.”

  “I’m not uptight. I’m angry,” she reminded him. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now. Doing something else. With someone else.”

  His grin disappeared and he drew his lips tight. “Sex.”

  “Sex education,” she corrected, doing her best to ignore the flutter in her stomach when she saw the jealous light in his gaze.

  Jealous? If only, a voice whispered.

  She ignored a sudden burst of longing. “Camp E.D.E.N. is going to help me get in touch with my inner vixen. I need to unlock my sexuality to fully enjoy and experience it, and they’re going to give me the key—” Her words drowned in the shrill ring of a cell phone.

  Rance held up a hand for her to hold on and pulled the slim silver contraption from his pocket. He punched the on button. “Yeah? No, don’t make the arrangements from San Antonio. I’ll be flying out from the Caribbean.” He grew silent for a few seconds as he listened. “I don’t know right now. I’ll let you know. Look, Shank, you’ve got to calm down about this stuff before you give yourself a heart attack.” Silence. “I’ve got something to take care of first, but I’ll be there. Have I ever let you down?” Obviously, the answer was no because the conversation ended without any more explanation.

  “Sorry,” he told her after he’d punched the off button and slid the cell back into his pocket. “My business partner is getting a little antsy.” At her arched eyebrow, he added, “I’m due in Australia for a competition this weekend.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I’m supposed to fly out tomorrow for some preliminary media events.”

  “So you figured in the meantime, you would talk some sense into me, change my mind, put me on a plane back home and then you could fly out tomorrow as planned?”

  He looked as if he wanted to deny it, but then he shrugged. “That would have been the best-case scenario.”

  “The worst case being that you would have to miss your competition and babysit me the entire two weeks?”

  “Actually, I was thinking worst case, as in I hog-tie you, tape your mouth shut, and put you on the first plane back home.”

  “While you fly off to wrestle porcupines in the Amazon.”

  “I wrangled snakes in the Amazon. This is an alligator wrestling competition. The alligator wrestling competition of the year. Competitors come from all over the world.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “It is,” he said, but the certainty didn’t touch his eyes. Deanie knew then that while Rance was living the extreme dream, he hadn’t found any extreme happiness to go along with it.

  “Is it harder than steer wrestling?”

  “No. You just get a lot wetter.”

  “Is it as much fun?”

  No. The answer was there in his eyes, but it didn’t make it past his lips. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “You brought it up,” she told him. “What can I say?” She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

  “Not half as curious as you are stubborn. Christ, Deanie,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer. “A sex camp?”

  “I know how it sounds, but it’s run like any other school.”

  “You don’t learn how to have great sex by sitting in a classroom, listening to a lecture. Have you ever just thought about kicking back and letting your natural impulses take over?”

  “The only place I’ve ever gotten by ‘kicking back’ is last place.”

  She had last written all over her. Back in kindergarten when she’d been too small to reach the water fountain like the other kids. In junior high when the tallest girl in the class had stolen Deanie’s science homework and hidden it at the top of the locker which had been out of arm’s reach.

  She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and fought the urge to slide across the seat and press her body into his embrace.

  Because when he’d held her, kissed her in that storage room, she hadn’t thought about the past or the future or the fact that she was still a far cry from the confident, experienced, ultra-femme female she wanted to be. She hadn’t thought, period.

  She’d simply felt, and it had felt really right.

  “Things don’t just fall into place for me,” she said, eager for a distraction from the truth—that she still had it bad for Rance McGraw. “Some of us are born lucky and some have to make our own luck. Unfortunately, I’m in group two.”

  “And which one am I in?”

  “Let’s see…You’re not bad on the eyes.” Talk about the understatement of the century. “You were junior steer wrestling champion four years in a row. Captain of the football team, both high school and then college. All state. First draft pick. Two Super Bowl rings. A successful business.”

  “I busted my ass for all of that.” She gave him a pointed look and he shrugged. “All of it except the not bad on the eyes.”

  “Then you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a plan or set your mind to it. But sex is different. It’s all about finding your groove.”

  “What if you don’t have a groove?” she asked before she could stop herself. “I mean, not that I don’t,” she rushed on, eager to hide her sudden insecurity. It was one thing for him to deduce that her registration at Camp E.D.E.N. meant she was totally inept in bed, and quite another for her to confirm it out loud. “I just want to perfect mine.”

  “Then all you need is a little practice.” With me, his gaze seemed to say.

  Yeah, right. Rance McGraw interested in Deanie Codge? That was a laugh.

  Then again, she wasn’t the same old Deanie.

  She was the new and improved version with her hot pink dress and leg-enhancing high heels and newfound cleavage. Maybe he really did see her differently now.

  The thought should have sent a wave of satisfaction rippling through her. Instead, she frowned.

  “What I need is a boat,” she muttered. Surely they had charters traveling to the various islands?

  “Why don’t you just stop all this nonsense, forget about Camp E.D.E.N. and enjoy the next twenty-four hours?” he asked as they pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.

  Fat chance, with Rance McGraw dogging her every footstep. With him so close, it was too easy to forget everything except their kiss and how much she wanted another one and how she would do practically anything if he would just…No.

  She wasn’t going there. Not this time.

  Not ever again.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE you sicced Rance McGraw on me,” Deanie said into the phone the moment her brother Clay’s answering machine beeped. She hesitated a moment, wondering if Helen had gone into labor, which would explain why her brother hadn’t picked up the phone himself. If something had happened to her sister-in-law, Clay would have called. Deanie had already listened to all of her messages, and there wasn’t one mention of Helen or the baby. He was probably out riding fence while their father played bingo at the diner and Helen shopped for anothe
r baby outfit.

  “First off, my business is none of your business,” she told his machine after she’d reassured herself. “And second, my business is none of Rance’s business. And third, I can’t wait until I get back because I’m going to really enjoy telling Helen your business. Particularly about your so-called business trip to Sioux City. The one where you went fishing when you should have been home with her helping her pick out flowers for the wedding. Why, I bet she’ll have no problem understanding how you’d rather gut a trout than pick out the perfect breed of rose for your fiancée’s bouquet.” Click.

  Okay, so she had no intention of telling Helen and hurting her feelings, but it would serve Clay right if she did. Even more, she didn’t want to be the only person losing a night of sleep. He deserved to toss and turn a little.

  Her gaze slid to Rance who sprawled in a lobby chair, his hat tipped back, his gaze as handsome as ever as he studied his surroundings.

  He should have been in the elevator, headed for the eighteenth floor and his hotel room. Their hotel room. They’d presented their comp tickets to the woman at the registration desk only to find that Escapades had only double rooms available—they were primarily a couples paradise, after all. Which meant that Deanie and Rance could share a complimentary double, or pay the outrageous price for an additional double.

  While Deanie had no doubt that Rance could afford it, he’d merely drawled in that slow, deep voice of his, “One double will be just fine with me,” and taken the key card the woman had handed over. Meanwhile, Deanie hadn’t been about to blow an obscene amount of money on a room without first weighing all of her options. After all, Camp E.D.E.N. wasn’t all that far away. If she hurried, she could still make the first scheduled workshop.

  Rance’s gaze collided with hers and he grinned. He was waiting for her.

  Watching her.