“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“You bet I am.” He paused, the mischief in his voice in direct response to the joy on her face. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“Definitely.”
Epilogue
2 months later
It was too bad her friends from the Junior League weren’t here.
They’d applaud her choice tonight.
Michaela shifted on her barstool to get a better view of the tall, dark, and sinfully sexy man in the tuxedo headed her way across the busy floor of the Jefferson Hotel bar. He was gorgeous, his broad shoulders filling out the formal wear perfectly. She couldn’t wait to peel his clothes off and see the muscles that moved sinuously under the cloth.
His eyes were dark brown, intense and focused on her. He stopped in front of her, his sensual look traveling down her body and setting her on fire on the return journey.
“May I buy you a drink?” she asked in a sultry voice that left no doubt of her intentions.
He glanced at the glass in her hand and nodded.
“A Southern Comfort.” She spoke in the general direction of the bartender, unable to tear herself away from his handsome face. “Neat.”
He slid onto the stool next to her, leaning in closer than decency allowed, but she didn’t care. Her breasts grew heavy with the knowledge that he would be hers tonight. As if he read her mind, his lips curved into a slight smile.
“Is there something funny?”
“No. Not at all.” He nestled in closer, his deep voice rumbling in her ear, his warm breath grazing her cheek. “I didn’t take you for the whiskey type.”
“And what type am I?”
He leaned back and looked over her body, examining the creamy white silk dress and her matching Manolo Blahnik pumps. She squirmed in her seat as she imagined him undoing all of the little buttons down her back and letting the heavy weight of the gown fall to the floor. He’d love what she had on underneath. He loved lingerie.
“Honestly?” He cocked his head and his lips twitched in amusement. “You strike me as the chardonnay type. A proper drink for a proper lady.”
She laughed at how close to the mark his description of her would have been just a few months ago.
“Whiskey makes me horny.” She took another sip and chuckled at the startled expression on his face and then shivered when it morphed into something feral—primal.
“I see.” He lifted the glass to his lips and downed the contents before setting it down and turning his attention back to her. “So…why are you drinking alone?”
“I’m not drinking alone. Now.” Michaela gestured toward his drink and ordered him another when he nodded.
“Okay, so you’re here…?”
“Celebrating my new life.”
“Aahhh.” He lifted his glass to her in salute. “Let me be the first to say that your husband is an idiot.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She traced the line of buttons on his shirt down until she could hook her finger in his cummerbund and drag him just a little bit closer. He leaned down and captured her lips in a hot, wet kiss of possession. A kiss calculated to erase the memory of any other man but him. They parted and she continued. “He married me, didn’t he?”
“He must be a genius.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. “He left me alone looking fabulous in this bar with all these single guys.” She moved off the barstool and looked over his shoulder at a group of men drinking in the corner. “In fact, maybe I’ll go—”
Jackson’s strong arms wrapped around her and he pressed a warm, moist kiss to the place just behind her ear that always made her shiver. “Kayla, baby, I wasn’t gone that long. I just needed to make sure Lucky had it all under control at the office.”
She tipped her head back. “Jackson, we’re only going to be gone for two weeks. I think he can manage not to ruin the company.”
“J&G Security is at a critical stage right now. Any troub—”
She cut him off with a deep kiss. It always worked like a charm when he started to worry about his new venture into private security. She’d never asked him to quit his job with the Roanoke PD, but after one long weekend spent on an undercover drug bust, he’d come home and turned in his badge. When she’d asked him why, he’d replied that he didn’t want to pretend anymore, his real life was too good to leave behind. Then she’d dragged him into their room and shown him just how good his real life was.
Jackson chuckled when she let him come up for a breath. “He still wants to know how I came up with the name. Keeps guessing. Won’t shut up about it. You know how Lucky is when he wants answers.”
“He’s just going to have to be disappointed.” Michaela nibbled at his jaw before whispering in his ear. “That’s our secret.”
“Yeah, it is.”
The love in his eyes caused her heart to stutter in her chest. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the unconditional trust and passion that radiated through every smile, look, touch, and kiss.
“So, Mrs. Cantrell, do you want to head up to the honeymoon suite and get started on our new life?”
The sound of her new name thrilled her. Would she ever get tired of hearing it? God, she hoped not.
His eyes narrowed as she hesitated, pretending to ponder the question. “Are you going to make me beg?”
Laughing softly, she grabbed her veil off the bar before turning back to her new husband. “You love it when I make you beg.”
Acknowledgments
No one accomplishes their dreams without help from special people—and this country girl is no exception. I’d like to thank my critique partner, Emmie Dark, for walking with me through this manuscript from page one to “the end.” Thank you to my editor, Ann Kopchik, for making my words shine. Special thanks also to P.H. Dunn, Jan Schliesman, Kimberly Kincaid, Theresa Francis, Candi Alfred, Meg McCarel, Vyvyan Walker, The Waterworld Mermaids, GIAM, Washington Romance Writers, and The Romance University Crew. And a special shout-out to Renee Ryan, Jo Davis, Hank Edwards, and Harper Fox—you and your books inspire me to hit the keyboard everyday. Thank you.
About the Author
On her fortieth birthday, Robin Covington decided that having a midlife crisis and finding a boy toy were far too tacky, so she delved a little deeper into the “bucket list” and pulled out the long-shelved dream of becoming an author. Now she spends her time writing sizzling romance where the hero and heroine can’t keep their hands off each other.
She doesn’t miss the boy toy at all.
Happily exploring the theme of fooling around and falling in love, her stories burn up the sheets…one page at a time.
Always a Virginian, regardless of geography, Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous puppy.
You can visit Robin at her website: www.robincovingtonromance.com
A Night of Southern Comfort Page 17
