Some Like It Hot

by Susan Andersen

  “And if you were, how would that be different from any other day?” demanded Jake, who had come over to help him scrounge for the bigger beach rocks to form a fire pit.

  “Hey!” Max used a couple of stiffened fingers to punch his brother in the sternum, and the next thing he knew Jake had him in a headlock. They wrestled on the ground for a moment, and it was like a blast from the past.

  With one big difference. This time they weren’t genuinely attempting to beat the shit out of each other.

  Jenny came to stand over them, legs akimbo and her small fists propped on her hips. “If you boys are quite finished getting your clothes all gritty, we need a fire built,” she said, then handed them each a beer when they promptly rolled apart, grinned at each other and started slapping sand, bits of shell and small pebbles from their jeans and T-shirts.

  Jake’s clothes, of course, were ten times classier than his, and Max indicated them with a jerk of his chin. “Who the hell wears a silk T-shirt to a beach party?”

  “Hel-lo!” Jenny said. “Have you met your brother? He thinks silk T-shirts are appropriate for all occasions.”

  “Damn straight,” Jake agreed. But in a patent bid to change the subject, he said to her, “So, have you told your posse our news?”

  That got their attention. “What news?” Tasha demanded and was echoed by Harper.

  “We’re getting married,” Jenny said.

  Tasha blew a raspberry. “That’s not news. He gave you a ring almost three months ago.”

  “We’re getting married January seventeenth.”

  “You picked a date?” Tasha demanded, and the women did that female thing of squealing their enthusiasm. “When did you decide this?”

  “It doesn’t give you a lot of time,” Harper added.

  “Are you kidding me?” Max demanded. “That’s almost four months from now.”

  They turned identical why-are-you-talking-moron looks on him, and he put his hands up in self-defense. “What?”

  “Churches and reception halls tend to be booked a full year in advance when it comes to weddings,” Tash explained kindly—if a bit as though she were speaking to a four-year-old. “And bakeries like notice for the wedding cake months in advance.”

  “That’s fuckin’ nuts.”

  She laughed. “That’s the wedding industry, baby.”

  “We circumvented a lot of the problems by deciding to keep the wedding small and hold it at the Pierces’ place.”

  Harper blinked. “Who are the Pierces?”

  “Austin’s grandparents and my former in-laws,” Jake said. “They died last year within six months of each other, and after Emmett passed Austin moved in with Jenny.”

  “I lived with them from the time Austin was about four,” Jenny said. “He’s my little brother in every way but blood.”

  “And she’s taken real good care of him.” Jake turned a look full of love on his fiancée.

  “Wait,” Harper said. “I think I know the house you’re talking about. That beautiful sage-and-cream Craftsman up on the bluff?”

  Jake nodded. “It’s been empty since Emmett’s death, but we’ve decided to move back into it after the wedding.”

  “Austin is so thrilled the three of us will finally be living together,” Jenny said. “The house is legally his, but I don’t think that part’s even registered.”

  “He’s not the only one who can hardly wait to have us all together,” Jake said drily, wrapping an arm around the petite brunette. “I’m tired of the living-in-two-houses thing myself.”

  “Not to burst your bubble,” Tasha said. “But you do realize that most of the town will expect to be invited to your wedding, right?”

  “That’s why we’re having a big reception at the inn. As long as we throw a big enough party, I doubt anyone will feel the pinch of not attending the wedding.”

  “Will you be able to accommodate everyone?” Harper asked. “Or did I totally miss the fact that you have a banquet room?”

  “We don’t,” Jenny replied cheerfully. “But we x-ed out that weekend on the inn calendar, and we plan on using the entire first floor. We haven’t figured out exactly how yet, but we’ll make it work.” She turned to Tasha. “You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”

  “But of course,” Tasha said regally. Then her entire face lit up, and she hauled Jenny in for a fierce, quick hug. “This is sooo wonderful!” She turned the little brunette loose. “And we are going to get me a kick-ass dress, not one of those frou-frou monstrosities.”

  “Yes, we are.” Jenny turned to Harper. “I want you to be my bridesmaid.”

  “Oh.” Harper’s expression radiated delight. In the next instant, however, the pleasure dimmed. “But I’ll be gone by then.”

  A shard of pain cut through Max’s chest at her talk of leaving. He realized he hadn’t given it any real thought, but before he could ask himself what the hell he thought would happen when her gig at the inn was up, Jenny was pinning Harper in place with a stern look.

  “Then you’ll simply have to come back for the weekend, won’t you?” she said. “You heard Jake—you’re part of my posse now, one of my girls. I know we haven’t known each other very long, sweetie, but I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”

  Tasha nodded her agreement. “Me, too.”

  Jenny essayed a gesture that said there you have it. “That’s not something you get with just anyone.”

  “No, it’s not,” Harper agreed. “And I’d be so honored to be part of your big day. I’ll x out the weekend on my calendar, as well.”

  “Alrighty then.” Slapping her hands together as if checking another chore off her list, Jenny turned her back on everyone to fuss with her cooler. “Let’s get that fire going. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”

  “She’s gonna cry,” Jake murmured. “The woman’s a sentimental fool.”

  “Am not!” she said, knuckling a tear away.

  “Well, I am,” Harper said, clambering to her feet and hauling Jenny in for a hug.

  A few minutes later, as the women got busy pulling out food and plates and all the other stuff they considered essential for putting together a meal, Max and Jake finished roughing in a fire pit with a circle of stones, then laid the wood. Jake squatted to light it, but paused to look over his shoulder at Max.

  “I asked Austin to be my best man,” he said in a low voice. “But I’d sure like it if you’d be my groomsman.” He gave him a sly smile. “I know how much you like to dress up, and this is your opportunity to rock a tux.”

  The fact that Jake wanted him to be part of his wedding gave Max an odd, warm feeling in his chest. But he merely said roughly, “I’m in.”

  “We’re also going to figure out a place in the inn to set up dancing and—”

  “Jake,” he interrupted, “I’m in.” Looking down at his brother, he smiled, feeling really good. “You had me at the tux, bro.”

  * * *

  “YOU SURE CAN plan a party,” Max said as he helped Harper haul her picnic paraphernalia into her tiny cabin. “First my birthday party and now this. That was one hella good picnic and bonfire.”

  “It was really great, wasn’t it? And I’m starting to think having it tonight was good timing on our part, too.” She looked at the trees that were beginning to rustle in the freshening wind. “Look how fast those clouds are blowing across the moon. I wonder if a storm’s coming in.”

  “Hmm,” he said. He wasn’t interested in the weather.

  What did interest him clearly showed on his face because her lips suddenly quirked up, and she raised her eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He thumped the Styrofoam cooler down on the floor and nudged it out of the way with the side of his foot. He was reaching for her even before he fully straightened. Snaking an arm around her waist, he yanked her to him with an enthusiasm that would have sent her bouncing right off him again if he hadn’t hurriedly angled his arm up her back. As it was, it flattened he
r breasts against his chest, which was A-OK with him. Burying his nose in her hair, he pressed his mouth to that sensitive hollow behind her earlobe. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”

  She made a rude noise. “Stop the presses,” she said with wry humor. “You always want to do this.”

  He touched the tip of his tongue to the pulse beating beneath her soft, scented skin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Aw, nooo,” she crooned and, wrapping her arms around his neck, walked him backward. It didn’t take many steps before his back hit a wall.

  Yeah, baby. I just love me an aggressive woman. But pleased as he was, he gave her the most demure expression he could drum up. “Be gentle with me.”

  A laugh sputtered out of her. “Oh, I will,” she promised, leaning back to give him a good, long look. “Or I’d planned to, anyway. But, you know—” she took a half step back and grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt in each hand and worked it up his torso, baring the muscles of his abs, his pecs, which tightened beneath her appreciative gaze “—on second thought,” she said as he raised his arms to facilitate the shirt’s removal, “maybe I’ll go all dominatrix on you instead.” She stood on her toes to pull it off over his head, then tossed it aside. She splayed her fingers through his chest hair and looked him in the eye. “So, maybe you should be afraid. Be very afraid.”

  “Oh, I am,” he assured her, reaching for the tiny buttons that ran from neckline to hem on her little red sundress.

  She slapped his hands away. “It’s my turn to be in charge.”

  “Hey.” He held his hands away from his body in a classic, I’m-just-a-harmless-guy gesture. “You’re the boss.”

  “Oooh.” She wiggled. “I am, aren’t I? This is going to be fun.” Leaning in, she kissed the side of his throat.

  She worked her way down his neck, leaving damp kisses in her wake. Reaching the hollow of his throat, she lapped at his pulse, which was racing like a treed cat’s. As her teeth scraped over his clavicle, she worked her hands between them to start opening her own buttons.

  Groaning, he reached for her.

  “Hands at your sides, mister!”

  “Daaaaamn,” he breathed, tucking his chin to watch her mouth’s possum-paced approach to his nipple.

  Finally, her lips reached it, a lush cupid’s bow pursed over the silver ring that glinted through his chest hair. She raised her gaze to watch him looking down at her. “Is this what you want?” she whispered and lowered her mouth.

  He hissed his approval as warm suction pulled at the sensitive nub. Her lips pulled back and he saw the ring clasped between her teeth.

  She gave it a little tug, and all the breath left his lungs in a loud “Hah!” Then—

  “All right, baby, that’s it!” He reached down to lightly squeeze her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, loosening her grip on the nipple ring. Sweeping her up, he tossed her over his shoulder. Within moments, he’d packed her up the loft ladder and was flipping her onto her back on her bed.

  He was frantic to get inside of her, but as he looked down at her on the patchwork quilt, she gave him a big pleased-with-herself smile, and the bolt of tenderness that shot through him took his breath away.

  Climbing onto the bed, he straddled her hips and reached to undo the buttons that she’d failed to unfasten near the hem of her sundress. Slowly, he peeled it open like a kid with his one and only gift on Christmas morning. Then he simply stared at her spread out beneath him in all that sleek skin and a delicate, scanty white bra and panties set.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, sliding down to lie atop her. He lowered his head to kiss her.

  Slowly. Tenderly.

  And was rewarded by the near silent “Ohhhhhhhhhhh.” She sighed into his mouth.

  He took his time, kissing her slow and deep and thoroughly before sliding down to distribute openmouthed kisses along the length of her throat and over her collarbones. He dragged his mouth down her chest and used the tip of his tongue to outline the full upper slopes of her breasts where they rose out of her demicups. Pushing up, he admired the tight thrust of her nipples through the so-sheer-it-barely-existed fabric before bending his head to lock his lips around one. He sucked, a triumphant satisfaction roaring through his veins as a high-pitched whine sounded in her throat.

  Her back arched, pushing the fullness of her breast against his face, and he reached behind her to unfasten the back clasp. The bra’s flimsy cups folded in on themselves, and he slid his hand beneath the cobweb fabric and over the bare skin of her right breast to tweak the diamond point of her nipple as he continued to worry the left with his mouth.

  Moaning softly, she reached between them and cupped his cock through his jeans, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

  “I want back in charge,” she panted and pushed at his shoulders.

  Obligingly, he rolled onto his back alongside her. Harper promptly climbed onto her knees and straddled him. She peeled her bra off and dropped it over the side of the bed, then scooted down and planted a kiss on his sternum before moving lower yet. She reached for his fly button.

  Oh, shit, was she going to...?

  “You said you wanted to see my hair wrapped around your—”

  Oh, yeah, she was. She undid his fly, and he lifted his hips so she could push his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, and he shoved up on his elbows to watch as she lowered her head over it. She shook her hair, and it danced over his hard-on, three or four curls wrapping around his dick like pornographic tentacles.

  Wrapping her hand around his erection, she squeezed his cock, sliding it through a tight grip exactly the way she’d told him she wanted to do the first time they’d made love. She glanced up at him.

  Then opened those lush lips around him and sucked the head into her mouth.

  His breath exploded from his lungs, and in sheer reflex his hips shot up with a sudden power that startled her hand free. The lack of brakes thrust him deep into her mouth to hit the back of her throat.

  “Shit!” He’d had more control—and sure as hell more finesse—when Christi Tate gave him his first blow job the day after his sixteenth birthday. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.”

  He dropped his butt back on the bed, which pulled her lips, which had gone slack, back up to the head of his cock.

  She coughed and glanced up at him.

  He grimaced an apology, and she gave him a tiny it-happens smile in return. Then she closed her lips around him once more and gamely sank her mouth damn near to the base of his shaft again with a tight, membranous suction that made his eyes glaze. Plunging his fingers into her curls, he stared at her lips wrapped around his hard-on as she moved her head up and down. He tried to keep his hips still, but found them moving in counterpart.

  Then all of a sudden he was way too close, and his hands tightened around her skull the next time her head rose, preventing her from taking him in again. “Off-off-off-off.”

  They were the hardest words he’d ever said. But he wasn’t going there unless she flat-out told him that’s the way she wanted to finish him.

  She raised her head, licking her lips, and he groaned. He had to displace her to fumble at his Levi’s, which had worked their way around his calves, and get his wallet out of his pocket. He passed it to her. “Condom.”

  She fished it out and rolled it down his length, then threw a leg back over his thighs like a biker chick mounting a Harley. He thumbed his dick into position and watched as she lowered herself over it, then as it sank into her inch by inch.

  “Ohhhhh,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut.

  Then they opened up again, and she raised back up until he was almost unseated. And slapped back down.

  “Jesus, Harper!” He gripped her lush ass and lifted her up again. Groaned as she dropped back down.

  “It feels so good,” she moaned. “You fill me so full, and I can feel you literally dragging against me when you pull out—God!” Her demonstra
tion when she raised her hips again clearly put her on the ragged edge, and she looked down at him, all flushed cheeks, slumberous eyes and bee-stung lips. “I’m gonna come, Max. God, I’m so close and—”

  He worked his thumb and forefinger between plump, slippery lips and pinched her clit.

  She screamed and slammed down one last time, those hot interior muscles clamping around his cock like a lubricious Chinese finger puzzle.

  And it was all she wrote. Without time to move so much as a centimeter, all that muscular milking along his dick made him erupt like a fire hose. All he could do was sink his fingers into the full firm cheeks of her ass, shoot his hips up off the mattress and groan his satisfaction as she ground against him in return.

  Minutes or aeons later, they collapsed like soldiers whose horses had been shot out from under them. And as Harper draped bonelessly atop him, her face pressed against his hot throat, he came to an uneasy realization.

  The sex was out of this world, but, damn, it was the woman who got to him every time. Her humor, her heart, her...hell. Everything. And it was time to quit fooling himself.

  He was knee-walking in love with the girl.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “OH, FOR—!” HARPER felt like throwing something when she got her mother’s answering machine. The last time she’d called it had been Gina’s personal assistant, Kimberly, who had put her off with some lame excuse.

  “This is the last message I intend to leave, Mom,” she said with hard-won civility after the beep. “I’m through dancing to your tune. If I don’t hear back from you by noon tomorrow, I’m informing Cedar Village myself.”

  A soft click indicated the phone on the other end had been picked up. “You will do nothing of the sort,” her mother stated categorically.

  “Seriously? You were lurking? Since when does Gina Summerville-Hardin resort to hiding behind her personal assistant and answering machines?”