by Gigi Moore
“An apple martini would be great.”
“One apple martini coming up. Hold a seat for me.” Jess headed to the bar a few yards away with a jaunt to his step and the memory of Tamara’s hand on his waist shooting tingles down his spine and hardening his cock. If she could do this to him when they were both fully clothed and in mixed company, he feared what she could do to him when he got her alone and their clothes off.
Several people at the bar ordered drinks from the four bartenders.
Jess positioned himself just to the right side of a young blonde sitting at the middle of the bar. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
The woman turned and gave him a big smile. “Jackson Reynolds! As I live and breathe.”
Jess winced, hoping Tamara hadn’t heard the blonde’s reaction to seeing him. He glanced over his shoulder to see her lounging comfortably against the sofa, grinning as she took in the sights and sounds around her, sure she couldn’t have heard anything over the booming music. He turned back to the blonde. “Sorry, not Jackson.”
“He mentioned he had a twin, but I didn’t believe there could possibly be two of you.”
“Yep, there are.” Jess waved at the closest bartender to get his attention, and when the young man came over, he ordered Tamara’s apple martini and a beer for himself.
As soon as the bartender went to tend to his order, the blonde turned on her stool and spread her thighs wide to either side of Jess’s hips. She licked her lips then leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Prove it to me.”
“Ma’am?”
“Prove to me you’re not Jackson.”
Christ, he would have to bump into one of his brother’s many groupies. It surprised him that she knew his brother had a twin, when she didn’t know Jax’s nickname. Jess surmised Jax had thrown her a bone in the process of letting her down easy to think herself more than a one-night-stand.
Leave it to Jax’s mating habits to come back and bite him in the backside.
“Well?” The blonde slid her hand down to his crotch and cupped his already hardening shaft. She raised her eyebrows and licked her lips again as she looked at him, obviously thinking him hard because of her. “Feels like Jackson Reynolds to me.”
“We’re identical.” Jess smoothly moved his hips to get away from her and caught her wrist before she could pursue him.
She raked him with her eyes. “You older or younger?”
“Twenty minutes older,” he automatically responded, though Jax often maintained Jess acted twenty years older.
“Hmm, I like older men.”
More like younger men. He’d eat his hat if she proved in her twenties. Jess put her closer to forty, surprised by his brother’s range despite knowing Jax just plain loved women of all walks of life—older, younger, black, white, and everything beyond and in between.
Blondie must have noticed him looking over his shoulder in Tamara’s direction and frowned when he turned back to her. “So it’s like that, is it?”
Jess frowned now. “Like what?”
“Jungle fever.”
The bartender arrived with his drinks before he could respond and Jess turned from Blondie to pay for them. He left a generous tip on the mahogany bar before turning to make his way back to the sofas where Tamara sat.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Blondie staring at him then settled down onto the seat Tamara had saved him near the arm of the sofa. He handed her the martini.
“Woman trouble?” Tamara asked before she took a sip.
“Uh, no. Why do you ask?”
“The blonde at the bar is giving you the evil eye. Jilted lover?”
“Not at all.” He should have been flattered that she’d consider the possibility, but he wasn’t. His ego didn’t need that sort of stroking.
“Or maybe she’s giving me the evil eye.”
Jess turned back to Blondie and noticed her sneer though he couldn’t figure out exactly why she seemed so riled. Maybe she didn’t like his rejection, however reasonably he had delivered it? Or maybe she just didn’t like him rejecting her for the company of a black woman.
The latter possibility bothered him on a level he had never been bothered before.
Jungle fever.
He grimaced at the memory of her words before taking a sip from his longneck and gazing at his surroundings. He realized for the first time since he’d started coming to Joe’s that there weren’t any people of color in the lounge. The absence had never struck him so forcefully before. Generally, there weren’t many people of color in Colorado statewide, and definitely weren’t many in McCoy, but he thought he had seen at least a few African Americans or other people of color in Joe’s at one time or another.
With Tamara growing up on The Double R and living in McCoy around him and Jax for most of their childhood, he just never saw her race as a problem though a rarity. Maybe it never seemed a problem because Tamara had always been so intrepid and self-assured, always at ease in her surroundings that she just seemed like she belonged, her skin color notwithstanding.
Before that moment, it had never occurred to him that she might be self-conscious or feel like an outsider, and at the thought, Jess slid his free arm around Tamara’s shoulders and snuggled close. “Do you want to leave?”
“You mean run?”
He followed her gaze to see Blondie still glaring at them, turned to watch Tamara’s profile and saw the tick in her jaw as she gritted her teeth. “That’s not what I meant.”
“If she’s making you uncomfortable, we can go. I, however, am not concerned with Ms. Attitude Problem.”
Jess grinned at her tough act and thought she could give Blondie a run for her attitude problem any day. “I brought you here to have a good time.”
“I am having a good time.” She turned to him and smiled. “I’ve got a stiff, tasty drink in hand and good company at my side. Why wouldn’t I be having a good time?”
That she considered him good company did stroke his ego. Something funny happened to his heart when he looked in her dark eyes beneath the strobe light of the room and saw the sincerity shining out of them. He squeezed her shoulder and leaned in to nuzzle her neck.
“Are you using me to make her jealous?”
He popped up his head to look at her. Her voice had been firm, her tone neutral and her look didn’t waver when she returned his stare. She didn’t look jealous or offended. “Is that what you think?”
“Are you?”
He bent his head again, circling the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue and inhaling the sandalwood aroma of her skin as she shuddered. “I want you.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 5
What did she do? What was on her mind? Obviously, she wasn’t in her right mind. Obviously, she’d lost it. Either that or the one little martini that she’d barely consumed had gone straight to her head.
Yeah, like she could blame her raunchy frame of mind on a little libation. She’d been more under the influence in the past than now, and she hadn’t gone to bed with the first pretty face that asked her.
Tamara had just met this guy, didn’t even know his last name—had no interest in knowing it to be truthful—and already she found herself going to a motel with him.
She couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she’d known Jay all her life. After her encounter at the bar with Ms. Better-Than-Thou, she wanted him more than she had upon meeting him.
Tamara knew she didn’t have anything to prove, not to herself or to him, but something in her wanted to know that a hunky young cowboy like him found her irresistible, that she could pull him in and keep him when the blonde at the bar couldn’t. Petty, she knew, but she wasn’t feeling incredibly generous or gracious at the moment, just very needy.
She needed Jay. She needed to feel wanted.
Jay and Tamara made the one-minute walk to The Comfort Inn Beaver Creek companionably holding hands. The silent intimacy felt right in the beautiful spring evening.
Tamara smiled now at the memory of the spiteful look the blonde had given her when she and Jay left—Jay’s arm possessively encircling her waist as he leaned in to tenderly kiss the side of her head. A sense of supreme satisfaction and victory filled her.
She had had similar run-ins with other women like the blonde before, and the perpetrators came in all shades and races in Tamara’s experience. Black sorority sisters had looked down at her just as much or worse than some white girls had when she’d started at Columbia. She’d wondered if they could smell the country bumpkin on her, wondered if they inherently knew she didn’t belong.
Though it probably shouldn’t have, the animosity surprised her. She expected the reaction in a small town like McCoy. She didn’t expect it in a great big melting pot like New York. In McCoy if she passed more than two other black people in town at the market that was saying something.
When Tamara thought about it, maybe this shortage had been the real reason behind her mother’s departure, or at least part of it. Maybe the woman just couldn’t handle being the cynosure and only black person on the ranch other than her baby daughter.
Tamara supposed she owed her own composure under fire to her father, He had instilled in her from the beginning that she was as good as anyone else, and that she shouldn’t judge a man by anything other than the content of his character.
She guessed she should thank her father for raising her how and where he had. The Double R, and the people on it, had proved to be an ideal environment to build her inner and outer strength, the best place to build the personality that she would later need to daily deal with and succeed among New York’s cosmopolitan elite.
Jay squeezed her hand, and when she brought her gaze up to meet his, searching beneath the brim of his hat, he grinned. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“I’m not much into clichés or stereotypes.”
“That’s good to know.”
“So, what’re you thinking about?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
“If you don’t want to tell me…”
She squeezed his hand back then twined her fingers with his long, thick ones. His hand gobbled hers, the palm rough yet soothing against hers, strong like him. “Who was that woman at Joe’s?”
He paused, released her hand to tip his hat back on his head and stared down at her. “That still bothering you?”
“I’m not bothered, just curious.”
He shrugged, grabbed her hand and started walking again. “She’s just a woman who thought I’m someone I’m not.”
“I bet you get that a lot, huh?”
“We’re here.” Jay pulled open the heavy glass door and ushered Tamara into the motel lobby in front of him. He took her hand and led her to the desk, adjusting her Keepall on his shoulder and reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.
She caught his wrist as he extracted it. “What are you doing?”
“Can’t get a room on my good looks.”
Tamara laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows Groucho style then suddenly turned serious and said, “That’s not what I mean. I wanted to come here.”
“It’s not like you dragged me here against my will.”
“But I—”
“Look, Tamara, call me old fashioned, but I pay my own way. I’m not some gigolo.”
“Oooo-kay.” Tamara rolled her eyes as the desk clerk warily approached. Evidently, she’d hit a nerve and the clerk understood this as well as she did.
“May I help you?” asked the small, nattily dressed man.
“We’d like a room for the night,” Jay said, sliding a credit card out of his wallet and slapping it down on the desk.
“Of course, sir. Smoking or non-smoking?”
Jay looked to Tamara and she said, “Non-smoking.”
“Non-smoking it is.” The clerk began tapping on his keyboard, gazing at the monitor in front of him. “We have a lovely room available on the fourth floor, mountain view, king size bed, non-smoking.”
“That’ll do right fine.”
Tamara waited as the clerk took Jay’s credit card and started the transaction. She drummed her fingers on the marble desktop and took the time to admire her surroundings, the expected turquoise-and-burgundy, Aztec-patterned carpet and western-theme furnishings.
The clerk inputted the required information. “You’ll be in Room 404. That’s $129.66 for one night. We have free deluxe continental breakfast until ten a.m. Checkout is at eleven a.m.” The clerk handed Jay his credit card and two electronic keycards then directed them to the elevators behind him and to the right.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No. We’re good.”
Jay took her hand and led her toward the elevator bank.
“Well, that was quick and easy. I hope our transaction isn’t,” Tamara murmured.
Jay leaned in to kiss her, slowly sliding his tongue along the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips on a moan. She stimulated her already hard sensitive nipples even more when she pressed herself against him. She flattened her breasts against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her to hold her close.
She realized a second before one of the elevators sounded and the doors slid opened that she stood on her tip-toes and ground her pelvis against the hard bulge in Jay’s jeans. She pulled away to glance around him into the empty car. “That’s us.”
Jay shouldered her bag, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the elevator with him. He punched four right before turning to and cornering her against the back wall of the elevator as the doors slid closed behind him. “So you like it slow and easy do you?”
She wanted to tell him that almost any combination would work with him—slow and easy, quick and hard. It just didn’t matter as long as he moved inside her as soon as possible. “Slow and easy is good for now.”
“We’ve got the whole night to try out some other combinations more to your liking, ma’am.”
Her stomach tightened at his husky words.
The man read her mind, but why did the idea of the whole night, disappoint her? Did she want more than one night from him? She hadn’t even had him yet, but something told her that one taste would not be enough.
The elevator stopped and signaled that they had reached their destination.
Jay took her by the hand and pulled her from the car, his steps sure and purposeful as he marched down the plush-carpeted corridors in search of their room.
He finally found it at the end of the hall, slid his keycard into the slot, and when it clicked over to green, he pushed open the door and let Tamara enter in front of him.
She stood in the middle of the clean, well-appointed room, had a moment to admire the turquoise and burgundy carpeting and thick bedding, and the imposing, four-poster solid pine bed before Jay sidled behind her.
He dropped her bag at their feet and slid his arms around her waist, easily pulling her back against his chest and bending his head to nuzzle her neck. He lingered for a minute at her pulse-point, sucking and licking her skin before he turned her around in his arms and zeroed in on her waiting mouth. “I want to taste all of you, every inch,” he whispered before thrusting his tongue past her lips. His mouth devoured hers in a mind-blowing, nipple-tingling kiss that had buckled her knees and made her heart hammer hard in her chest.
There ought to have been a law against a man looking and smelling so good who could kiss like this!
Jay upped the ante even more when he slid a hand up to her head. He buried his fingers in her hair right before gently fisting a handful and directing her head to an angle that better suited his need to ravish her mouth.
Tamara groaned deep in her throat, pressing her body so close to his she felt like she tried to climb inside his skin. Jay pressed right back like he wanted to climb into hers.
He stopped suddenly and cursed.
“What is it?”
&
nbsp; “I don’t have a condom.”
“I thought all guys keep one in their wallet.”
“I wasn’t exactly expecting anything to happen, and it’s been a while…”
“Fear not. I’ve come prepared.” And if that made her seem like a cheap floozy, then so be it. Better safe than sorry.
She bent to reach for her bag, picked it up and carried it over to the bed. She sat down, unzipped her bag and dug into one of the compartments for what she wanted. When she looked up to see what Jay did, she caught the look on his face—not judgmental or disappointed—just a pleased grin.
Tamara grinned too, relieved that she had followed her instincts when she’d thrown the condoms into her luggage at the last minute. She patted the mattress beside her.
Jay strutted over and took a seat, pressing his thigh against hers. “I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.”
She released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “I thought you might have a problem with my boldness, especially after that little scene in the lobby.”
“That wasn’t a scene. That was just me being an assertive, take-charge male. And this,” he leaned close and took the string of condoms out of her hands, “is you being an assertive and responsible female.”
“I suppose we all have our roles to play.”
“I don’t play. I’m totally serious about this, about us. Can’t you tell?”
She could tell. And it scared her to death when she looked into his earnest, sky-blue gaze. She had never seen anyone more serious, not even James when he’d proposed. James had been proud and satisfied as if he’d just attained a prized jewel for his collection. He hadn’t been as intense and passionate as Jay. Jay made her feel like his feelings could consume her if given room to breed and grow.
Jay crawled up the bed to deposit the condoms atop the bedside table, and then on his knees, he crooked a finger and beckoned her to join him at the head of the bed.
Tamara toed off her boots and inched her way up the bed. She never once took her eyes off of Jay’s. His focus compelled her and made her pussy shudder with hunger as he swept off his hat and tossed it onto one of the bed post knobs.
