They’d been the talk of the town way back when, and their daughter had inherited the title.
But while her parents hadn’t been Ozzie and Harriet, they had loved one another, and they’d loved Eden. She hadn’t had the best of everything, but she’d had all the basics. Food. Clothes. A warm bed in a clean house. Unfortunately that house had been located on the wrong side of Kendall Creek, and so Eden was an easy target for gossip, the sort that drew a man’s attention. She was the outcast not even worthy of sponsor recognition for a local T-ball team.
And when it came to Brady Weston, she’d best keep that in mind. A pang of regret went through her—a feeling she quickly squashed. The last thing she wanted to feel was regret. Relief. Now there was an appropriate emotion. They’d done the deed, her curiosity had been satisfied, her drought ended, and now she could concentrate on her business.
Unfortunately, she’d felt anything but relieved when she’d climbed into her bed late last night after closing up the bar. She’d tossed and she’d turned and she’d remembered.
The way he’d touched her, kissed her, cried out her name when he’d reached his climax. The way he’d stared at her when she’d reached hers.
As if he’d been waiting. Expecting.
She forced the thought aside. It didn’t matter what Brady Weston had thought at that moment because he didn’t matter.
One night.
And that night was now over.
She grasped that thought and turned her attention to the jars of salted peanuts lining one of the shelves. There was inventory to be taken and a bar to be cleaned. Eden spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of both.
It was well past sundown before she finally set her clipboard aside and removed her apron. Exhaustion tugged at her muscles and she smiled. The more exhaustion she felt, the better her chances of getting a solid, good night’s sleep—
The thought crashed to a halt as the lights flicked off and darkness swallowed her up.
“Stupid lights,” she muttered as she felt her way down the aisle, past several large shelves. Another step and she stubbed her toe. Pain rushed up her leg and pierced her brain and she sucked in a breath. A few more steps and she reached the cabinets at the far end of the room. She reached blindly inside the cabinet and felt for the flashlight. Her fingers closed around the familiar shape and a few seconds later a single beam sliced through the darkness. Eden was about to search for a spare bulb when the flashlight beam hit the light switch and she realized it was in the off position.
She closed the cabinet door and moved to the switch. A flick of her finger and brightness cracked open the darkness. Her heart pounded faster as she realized that it wasn’t a bad bulb at all. Off.
As the truth crystallized in her brain, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of a tanned hand before the lights flicked off and darkness settled in again.
Panic bolted through her, followed by a rush of fear. There was someone in the room with her. Someone standing directly behind her.
The thought registered a split second before she felt the hard strength press against her back and the warm rush of breath against her ear. “Definitely strawberry.”
The deep, familiar voice rang in her head and relief swamped her for the space of two heartbeats before anger set in.
“What are you doing?”
“Smelling you.” His nose grazed the sensitive shell of her ear and he inhaled. “Last night, I wasn’t so sure because of all the food. The cherries. The chocolate.” With each word, a vision pushed into her head. Heat licked across her nerve endings and her nipples pebbled. “But you definitely use a strawberry shampoo.”
“No, I mean what are you doing? You scared the daylights out of me.” She reached for the light switch and flooded the room in blessed brightness. While she wasn’t as frightened as she had been a few moments before, there was something highly unnerving about standing in the dark with Brady Weston, listening to his voice, feeling his warmth, knowing he was directly behind her, so close that all she had to do was lean back just so…
It’s over, she reminded herself.
If only her body didn’t keep forgetting that all-important fact.
“And for your information,” she said as she turned to face him. “It’s not shampoo. It’s a conditioner. And I only use it once a week.” She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but the fact that he was so in tune to her that he could smell a conditioner she hadn’t used in days was almost as unsettling as his presence.
This wasn’t about being in sync. It was purely physical. And it wasn’t even that. Not anymore.
“You sound hostile. I even brought you the flowers you forgot last night.” He grinned and nodded toward the end of the bar where they stood in a vase. “How can you be mad, darlin’?”
“I’m annoyed.”
His gaze dropped and his hand touched her chest before she had a chance to pull back. As if she had any place to go. With the wall at her back and Brady blocking her front, she was trapped.
“Your heart is pounding.” His grin widened. “That’s good.”
“You’re making about as much sense as Jeanine Mitchell after three margaritas.”
“I want your heart pounding.”
“That’s why you turned the lights off. To scare me into a pounding heart?”
“Actually, I was trying to piss you off, not scare you.”
“Mission accomplished.” She flicked the switch back on. “Now get out.”
“The point is to get in, darlin’.” He flicked the lights off and caught her fingers when she tried to turn them back on.
“When did you turn into such a jerk?”
“At about half past midnight, after watching Sea of Love. Have you ever seen that movie, darlin’?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, there’s this scene where Al Pacino and Ellen Barkin have a disagreement and she tells him to leave. But she doesn’t really want him to leave.”
She wasn’t going to ask. “What does she really want?”
“This.” He whirled her around so fast that she barely had time to draw in a breath before she felt the hard wall of his chest against her back. His hips shifted and she realized he was fully aroused. A thrill of awareness shot through her, immediately followed by a rush of guilt.
Over.
Her head knew that, but her body… Her damned body wanted more of his touches, his kisses…everything.
“Your heart is still pounding,” he said as his hand came up and settled over her chest, an inch shy of one throbbing nipple.
“That’s because I’m mad and getting madder by the minute.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re excited. And getting more excited by the minute.”
“You’re wrong.” If only. While she was angry, all right, it didn’t make her want to resist his touch. It fed the anticipation heating her blood.
“I told you we weren’t finished yet,” he murmured.
“You’re wrong about that, too. We’re done. It’s—”
Over stalled on the tip of her tongue as his teeth sank into the curve of her neck. He nipped her there, not painfully, but with enough strength to remind her that he was in control. The realization sent an alarm through her, but then his hands slid down her arms and he palmed her breasts.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered. “I want to touch you.”
She resisted at first, determined to keep her body in check, to ignore the delicious heat teasing her senses. But then his fingertips trailed down her belly and lower, and he touched the apex of her thighs. Heat spiraled through her and for a split second, she actually went weak in the knees. Forget holding herself rigid or pulling away or fighting his touch. Resistance fled and it took her total concentration to keep from sinking to the floor.
She sucked in a breath as his touch moved under her skirt and between her legs. He drew lazy circles against the crotch of her undies, right
over ground zero. Round and round. Over and over. Until she could hardly breathe, much less stand. Had it not been for his strong arms anchored on either side of her, she would have sunk to the floor.
“Your panties are soaked, darlin’.” He trailed a fingertip over the drenched area, back and forth in a maddening rhythm before he paused, protected both of them, then and pushed just a fraction into the moist heat. “Am I making you wet, Eden?”
Sensations whirled inside her and she could barely nod as a burst of heat rushed from his fingertip to every other erogenous zone in her body. Her nipples hardened. The backs of her knees tingled. Her breasts quivered. Her toes curled.
“Tell me, darlin’.” His voice, so rich and deep, stirred her almost as much as his touch. A thread of warning went through her, quickly lost in the delicious sensation that burst as he pushed a fraction deeper. “I want you to talk to me. To scream for me. I want to know how much you want me. How good I make you feel. Do I make you feel good, baby?”
Yes. The word rushed to the tip of her tongue and her lips parted. The only sound that escaped was a breathless moan.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes.” The word trembled from her lips.
“Louder, darlin’. I can’t hear you. I need to hear you.”
“Yes. You make me feel good.”
“Good.” He flicked her earlobe with his tongue before tracing the sensitive shell. Goose bumps chased up and down her arms. “Talk to me, Eden. Tell me what I’m doing to you. Tell me what you want me to do. Do you want this?” His finger dipped beneath the elastic band of her panties. His touch rasped against the sensitive tissue of her clitoris and she trembled before his finger slid lower and plunged deep.
A gasp caught in her throat and every muscle in her body went tense at the fierce invasion.
“I…” She searched for the words, but she couldn’t seem to think of them. Her entire universe centered on the finger embedded inside her, stroking and moving.
“Tell me.” He withdrew and plunged into her again and her body throbbed in response. Her hips shifted and sensation burst through her. She moved again, searching for him, pulling him deeper, wanting him so badly she could barely think. Wanting it, she reminded herself. An orgasm. A physical release that had nothing to do with him and the way he held her against his body—so close and fierce, as if he never meant to let her go—and everything to do with lust burning her up from the inside out.
“I can’t hear you,” he murmured, pushing deeper, wringing a shudder from her body.
“Just do it,” she breathed, giving in to her body’s needs and the hunger that burned inside her for Brady Weston. “Stop talking and let’s get to it.”
While he might be every other man in her past, he was also different. More sexy. More handsome. More determined. He wanted her again, and while she didn’t want to want him again, she did. The chemistry between them was too fierce to burn up in just one night. But two. Or even three…
The notion sent a burst of excitement through her, but then Brady withdrew his hand to tug at the band of her panties. The lace slid down and cool air swept her bare bottom. The sensation yanked her back to reality, to the fact that she was now half naked.
Half. But not all the way, and not with the lights on.
“We need to set some ground rules,” she managed in the I’m-a-woman-who-knows-what-she-wants voice she’d perfected over the years.
“I thought you wanted to stop talking.”
“I do. Once I’m sure we’re on the same page.” A gasp punctuated her statement as his jeans rubbed her sensitive buttocks.
He stroked her bottom before working at the waistband of his jeans. “There are no rules for this, darlin’. Anything goes.”
“When it comes to lust. Just so long as you remember that this—” she caught her bottom lip as one fingertip trailed down her buttock and tickled the back of one thigh “—this doesn’t mean we’re seeing each other.”
He licked the curve of her ear. “I can’t see a damned thing.” He reached for the light switch, but she followed, her hand flicking it off a split second after he’d turned it on. “I mean, seeing each other. As in dating. We are not dating. This is just sex.”
A deep chuckle vibrated the air near her ear. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, darlin’. This isn’t sex, darlin’. This,” he said as he bent his knees and plunged deep with one thrust, “now this,” he groaned once he was buried deep, deep inside, “this is sex.”
“And just so you know,” he whispered after several delicious moments, the words so soft and low she marveled that she could hear them over her pounding heart. “That light’s coming on sooner or later.”
Not if she could help it, she vowed as she closed her eyes and gave in to the desire beating at her senses.
Not now.
Not ever, ever again.
8
“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE.” Merle’s voice sounded behind Brady just as his foot hit the first step leading up to the garage apartment. He turned into the beam of light shining from Merle’s flashlight.
“It’s just me,” Brady declared. “Don’t shoot.”
“As if Maria lets me keep any ammo in my shotgun. At least not anytime from February through October. Now duck season is a different story altogether.”
“One I’d love to hear, Unc, but it’s late.”
“You’re telling me. It’s hours past my bedtime, but I been waiting up for you.” He dangled a set of car keys up in front of him. “She’s gassed up and ready to go.”
“You waited up ‘til midnight to tell me that? Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”
“You’re up earlier than Jesus himself, so no, it can’t wait. Besides, that would make it twenty-eight hours instead of twenty-four and that ain’t good.” He glanced at his watch. “I told you I’d have her fixed before the day was up. Twenty-two hours and thirty-two minutes and she’s as ready as Emma Beacher on singles night over at the bingo hall.
“You replace the brake pads?”
“Done.”
“And checked the fan belt?”
“You know it.”
“And went over the radiator pump?”
“Ancient history.”
“How about the spark plugs? Did you change those?”
Merle frowned. “You didn’t say anything about spark plugs.” He glanced over his shoulder at the gleaming Porsche sitting several feet away in the garage drive. “I can’t imagine she needs new spark plugs.”
“Are you kidding? Porsches, particularly this model, are notorious for faulty plugs.”
“Since when? I ain’t never heard of such a thing.”
“Popular Mechanics just last month. An entire issue dedicated to quality plugs.” When Merle looked skeptical, Brady rushed on. “They even did a cover shot of several new Chevy plugs. Real beauts, I’ll tell you that.”
“Maybe I ought to get a subscription. After all, it don’t hurt to be well-informed. It’s just that the danged mailman always comes during Wheel of Fortune and by the time I’m done, I’m usually too pumped to sit still. That’s when I take out the garbage. Then after that, I’m too tired to do anything but sit still. Forget turning pages or trying to concentrate.” He looked thoughtful. “Faulty plugs, you say?”
“You really should check them out.”
“That shouldn’t take long.”
“Then there’s the distributor cap.”
“I have a feeling it’s on its last legs.”
“Looked fine to me.”
“That’s just it. Looks can be deceiving, and the last thing I need is to find myself stranded on the road again. I swear I nearly died of heat stroke the last time. If it hadn’t been for Eden, I’d have been as cooked as beef jerky. I’d really appreciate it if you could—”
“Say no more. But this is gonna cost you. You still get a discount, of course, bein’ you’re family and all, but I’ll have to charge you for parts and half the labor costs. This is
taking up my time and I’ve got Mrs. Pinkerton’s Buick that come in right in back of yours. She needs a good tune-up and new shocks.”
“Take care of Mrs. Pinkerton first. I’m in no hurry for the Porsche.”
“No can do. I’ve got my reputation to think of. Twenty-four-hour turnaround time. ‘Course, that refers to each new problem, not the original.”
“Your reputation’s safe with me.” Brady turned and started up the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”
“You know,” Merle’s voice followed him up the stairs, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you like driving old Bessie.”
Brady paused on the upstairs landing and stared down at the older man. “Now why would I do something so crazy? We’re smack-dab in the middle of a major Texas heat wave. Why would I sweat it out day after day when I could be sitting pretty with a powerhouse air conditioner keeping me cool? I’d have to be plum loco.”
Merle nodded. “Certifiable.”
“Which I’m not.”
No, Brady wasn’t crazy. He was desperate. He wanted, needed, to reclaim his old life and get back to his roots, to the small-town existence he’d loved with all his heart, and he wasn’t about to do that cruising around town in a car that cost more than most people’s houses.
He wanted to fit in again. To feel at home the way he had so long ago when he’d had a bright and happy future awaiting him. He’d not only had his family, but friends, as well. He’d been well liked by all. Respected by the men. Sought after by the women.
Every woman, that is, except for Eden Hallsey.
His thoughts shifted to the storeroom, to his latest movie reenactment and the woman who’d come apart in his arms. And she had come. He’d felt it in the tensing of her muscles, heard it in her sharp intake of breath and the low moan that had slipped past her luscious lips despite her best efforts.
For whatever reason, she still seemed determined to hide her pleasure from him. Or to deny it to herself.
For the next few heartbeats, Brady couldn’t help but wonder which. More importantly, he wondered why? What was there in Eden’s past that kept her holding on so tightly to her self control when it was obvious she wanted to let go?
The Pleasure Principle Page 9
