“Shit,” Mason drawled out softly next to him as April did exactly as they feared, and what Clay suspected they both secretly wanted.
Stripped down to white bikini undies and the lace bra that looked nothing like last year’s plain cotton tank-top style one, April pulled the elastic band out of her ponytail to release a tumbling cascade of long blond curls, and then dove into the clear lake water.
Hell, this was way better than sneaking peeks inside the skin magazines when the store clerk wasn’t looking, but April was their friend. Now that she had turned into a woman, enjoying ogling her just seemed wrong, not to mention very weird.
Clay felt the already stifling Oklahoma heat around him ratchet up another notch. He wasn’t convinced it had anything to do with the weather, even though it had never been quite this hot during the last week of the school year before. Now was a hell of a time for the weather to go wonky, Clay thought, as he and Mason watched April’s progress.
She swam beneath the surface, gliding as easily as a fish through the water, before surfacing with a splash and a shake of her long, wet hair. Fish? Hell, she was more like a mermaid, and every man’s wet dream.
“Aren’t you two coming in?”
Hands buried deeply in both pockets, Mason surreptitiously adjusted himself within his jeans and glanced quickly at Clay. “Um, we need to get to the farm and start breaking that green horse your daddy just brought in or he’s gonna tan our hides.”
Barely comprehending Mason’s excuse over his own lusty thoughts, Clay nodded at whatever his friend had just said.
“Fine. I’ll get out. It’s no fun swimming alone.” With a pretty pout worthy of a centerfold, April stood, the water sluicing off satin skin that Clay longed to run his hands over, his tongue too while he was at it.
She began walking toward them, her water-soaked bra and panties so see-through she might as well have been wearing nothing. Though somehow this was more enticing.
Clay swallowed again and nearly choked. He realized he had no spit in his mouth, even though he seemed to have plenty of sweat on his palms. He wiped them on the denim covering his thighs while what he really longed to do was reach down and adjust himself, because the seam of his stiff jeans was not doing his now wide-awake hard-on any good.
Before them, April bent over to grab her clothes off the grass, revealing the tops of two creamy breasts. Clay had barely noticed the plump globes above the scalloped edge of her bra before. He’d been too distracted by the dusky traces of her nipples through the wet material, not to mention the barely visible outline of the pale curls beneath her undies that proved she was a natural blonde.
Mason hissed out a breath next to him. “Crap, Clay. This just ain’t right.”
Clay didn’t take his eyes off April as she dressed, wiggling and jumping to get her clothes on over wet skin. The act was somehow as enticing as a striptease, only in reverse. As April sat on the grass to pull her boots on, Clay asked, “What ain’t right?”
Mason, the dark-haired, brown-eyed compliment to Clay’s paler dirty blond, blue-eyed appearance, glowered. “You know damn well. She’s our friend.”
A quick sideways glance told Clay that in spite of his sudden moral protest, Mason hadn’t taken his eyes off of April either. Clay grinned at him. “Yeah, but now she’s our really hot female friend.”
Mason finally broke his gaze from the sight that consumed them both to look at his buddy. He let out a resolution-filled sigh. “Yeah, she is, but how do you reckon we decide which one of us gets to take a shot at having her?”
Pulling off the ultimate con…if they can keep from pulling off their clothes.
All Jacked Up
© 2009 Lorelei James
Rough Riders, Book 8
Keely McKay knows Jack—and Jack Donohue is a certified pain in her Wranglers. The lone girl in the prolific McKay family, Keely needs another man giving her orders like she needs a hole in her boot. What she does need is a restoration specialist so she can open her physical therapy clinic—and prove she’s left her wild-child days behind. That means dealing with buttoned-down, uptight Jack.
Jack is this close to securing a career make-or-break project, until he learns his lack of marital status puts him out of contention. When the notoriously hot-tempered and hot-bodied Keely begs him for help, he proposes a crazy idea. He’ll oversee her project—if she acts the part of his loving fiancée.
Their sizzling lust makes it all too easy to go from butting heads to knocking boots—but outside the bedroom they’re as mismatched as ever. The McKays remind Jack of the humble upbringing he left behind, and cowgirl Keely feels she doesn’t measure up to Jack’s big-city lifestyle.
When the dust settles, Jack and Keely must face the fact they’re not fooling anyone but themselves—or they’ll risk losing the real deal.
Enjoy the following excerpt for All Jacked Up:
Keely considered changing her work clothes, but Jack would think she’d gussied herself up for him, so no dice. In Dewey’s, she spotted him in the far corner booth. He stood, waiting to reseat himself until after she’d sat. Okay. That gentlemanly courtesy was impressive. And sweet. And unexpected.
Nervous, because this felt like an actual date, she flipped through the menu even when she’d memorized it ages ago. “What are you having?”
“Chicken fried steak.”
“Sounds good. Been a while since I’ve had it.”
“Careful, we’re actually agreeing on something.”
“Maybe it’s a full moon.”
His answering bad boy grin had her heart doing the two-step.
After the waitress took their order, Jack stared at her with unabashed interest. “What?” she said testily.
“I don’t even know when your birthday is.”
“It’s not like you’ll be around to shower me with expensive presents.”
“We need to know some of that stuff about each other before the engagement party.”
True. Especially in light of suspicions all wasn’t right with said engagement. “May twenty-third. I’m twenty-seven. You?”
“April fourth. I’m thirty-four.”
“You’re an old timer, eh?”
A slight scowl. “I’d say experienced.”
“So, Mr. Experienced, what other secrets do we need to share?”
“Start with the basic first date stuff. What’s your favorite food?”
“Steak. Followed closely by bacon. Followed closely by chocolate.” She picked up a straw and rolled it between her fingers. “I’ll bet I can guess yours.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will.”
There was that wicked grin again. “I dare you to try.”
Keely considered him. “This is way too easy, Jack.”
“So stun me with your insight, cowgirl.”
“Poached salmon. Wild rice pilaf. Brussel sprouts. Plain cheesecake.”
A stricken look crossed his face.
She smirked. “I totally nailed you didn’t I?”
Jack angled across the table. “Not. Even. Close. But I am intrigued by the thought of you nailing me.”
Oh. Hello lust. “The thought of nailing you has me equally intrigued.” She offered him a coquettish look. “Are you a breast or a thigh guy?”
That caught him off guard enough his gaze actually dropped to her chest. “Ummm. What?”
“Or chicken?” she taunted softly.
His hot eyes returned to hers. “My favorite food is not chicken. It’s not a nice juicy rump…roast, although I admit to being more of a butt man than a breast man.”
Keely blinked. She was quickly losing control of this conversation.
“I’ll give you one more chance to nail me,” Jack said with a sexy rasp.
“Only one?” she cooed back.
Jack’s hungry gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “Playing fast and loose will only encourage me to play the same. Be certain you’re prepared for what that entails.”
Y
ikes. “Speaking of favorite foods, I’m betting yours is some kind of wild game that fits with your personality. Boar?”
His lips lifted. “Wrong. This round goes to me. My favorite food is homemade meatloaf. Followed closely by mashed potatoes and gravy. Followed closely by corn on the cob.”
“Holy crap. That’s so…Midwestern of you, GQ.”
“Surprised?”
“Very.” Down home cooking appealed to Jack more than haute cuisine? Man. He’d surprised her like four times today. “Your turn to guess. What’s my favorite movie?”
“Easy. The Princess Bride.” He grinned. “What’s mine?”
“The Jerk,” she shot back.
Jack laughed. A deep, rumbly, sexy sound and she caught herself wanting to smile and sigh at the same time.
“Try again.”
“Jackass?” she tossed out.
More laughter.
“Okay. I give.”
“True Lies,” he said.
“That seems appropriate.”
Silence.
Keely fiddled with the straw, rolling it back and forth in the condensation.
Jack snatched her hand, stopping the fidgety movement.
Talk about big hands. Not soft, girly hands either, but rough. Manly. His fingers were long and thick, sprinkled with just enough dark hair to be masculine, not apelike. God. It’d been forever since she’d had a real man’s hands stroking her bare skin. Would Jack be gentle? Teasing? Or forceful?
“Keely?”
She shifted her gaze up. The curiosity or guilt he saw in her eyes caused a spark of heat to flare in his.
Jack stretched across the table until their mouths were a kiss apart. “We’re fucking kidding ourselves that we can keep this platonic for much longer.”
The growly timbre of his voice destroyed any smartass comment she might’ve conjured. She wanted to hear that growling noise against her throat, in her ear, on her belly, on the insides of her thighs.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she breathed.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to—”
“Isn’t this sweet, you two lovebirds holding hands and whispering naughty nothings to each other.”
Keely looked up at India with murder in her eyes.
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Unbridled: Lone Star Lovers, Book 1 Page 12
