One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  She wound herself around him, up off the ground, hanging on to him as he pushed her into the door. He ground his hips into the V of her legs. “You drive me insane.”

  She slid her hand up the back of his head, holding on tight, resting her forearms on his shoulders. He attacked her neck again. Anything to keep the scent and taste of her surrounding him. Her thighs flexed at his waist, his name a chant between kisses. He tore his mouth away and sank his teeth into the smooth skin between her shoulder and neck. The thin-strap tank top hugged her chest and torso like a second skin. No bra.

  He groaned.

  She was a tiny thing with little palm-sized breasts. She fit him better than any other woman had in his life. But he didn’t want to take her against the side of his truck. He wanted to stretch out with her and lose himself in her scent and softness for hours.

  “Dammit.”

  The pads of her fingers dug into the top of his head. “What?”

  “Look around.”

  She peered at the small parking lot, her dark eyes finally clearing. “Not exactly the right place for this.”

  “No.”

  “So let’s go find a secluded spot and steam up the windows.”

  He nibbled on her earlobe. “We need to get some miles under our belts.”

  She flipped open the top button of his jeans. “Not the belt I’m worried about.”

  He grabbed her hand and gently lowered her to her feet. “You have no idea how much I want to do just that. Part of me wants to move enough clothes so that I can get inside you.” Her eyes widened, the doe color obliterated by her pupils. “I laid next to you all night and couldn’t stop thinking about wrapping your fingers around the slats of that headboard and driving into you until the walls came down. Until whatever deity wanted to be offended tapped me on the shoulder and told me to stop. And I wouldn’t have stopped.”

  The pulse in her neck fluttered madly.

  “I wanted to dent the damn mattress, and still it wouldn’t have been enough.”

  Her chest heaved, and she sawed through her lower lip. “Where can we find another place that’s got that headboard?”

  He laughed. “Christ, you make it hard to be smart.”

  “I don’t want you smart. I want you to let go and smile. I want you to drive into me like that until neither of us can stand. I want it so much it scares me.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “You scare me even more, Kendall. I had a plan. Have a plan. Not had a plan. Fuck. We both know that New York is the endgame.”

  “Don’t think about New York. Just let it be about us. No promises, no tomorrows, nothing but this.” She laid her hand against his chest, her palm digging the cross of his rosary into his skin. “Just us for as long as it takes.”

  He nodded and caught her mouth in a harsh kiss. He’d been planning for as long as he could remember. Day-to-day wasn’t his way. But for her he’d try. For a chance to hold on to this a little bit longer, he would.

  He bit her lower lip until it went a deep berry red. And when her lips were swollen and full, he kissed her harder. Then he pulled away and laced his fingers behind his neck. “Get in.”

  Without a word, she opened the door and climbed in. He cracked his fist into the front corner panel of the truck, and the pain cleared his head. Driving was what mattered now. He’d have her tonight. And they would be a little closer to New York, even if he was wondering if New York still held all the answers he was looking for.

  Kendall woke with a growling belly. Damien Rice’s soothing voice filled the cab of the truck, and sunlight streamed over her shoulder.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  She squinted at the dashboard clock. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Prop up your eyelids with toothpicks?”

  She jammed her overshirt behind her back against the door. “You could”—she gasped—“talk to me.”

  “I was talking, and then you were snoring.”

  “I do not snore!”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Sunshine.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ass.”

  “Nag.”

  She swung her leg out and nudged his thigh. “Was that a smart-ass remark there, Oscar?”

  “No, you’re just a nag.”

  She dug her toe into his thigh. “Jerk.”

  “You want to make a pit stop? There have been signs for a place called Mom’s.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Someplace called Salina.” He shrugged. “I need something more than a Coke.”

  She lifted the empty bag on the bench. “You ate my M&Ms.”

  “You snooze, you lose.”

  She took a swig of her lukewarm soda and winced. “Yeah, maybe we can get a sandwich or something.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  She stretched and turned to look out her window. “Wow, desert is gone, huh?”

  “Yeah, all about the mountains here. It’s cooler too, so you’ll probably need that shirt before we go in.”

  She looked down at her tank top. “What? I’m covered.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “One wrong move and everyone can see the trio of freckles around your nipple.”

  She pulled the shirt away and looked down. “Huh. I don’t think I noticed those before.”

  “They’ve been there all your life.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t look at them. Do I look like the kind of girl who stands in front of the mirror and checks out all my flaws?”

  “What flaws? Christ, Kendall, you’ve got a rockin’ body.”

  She laughed. “I’m too skinny. I’ve been told that all my life. And when I had braces? Kids in my class kept asking me if I was going to fall forward because my head was too heavy.”

  “You’re tiny, but it’s all muscle and softness. Believe me, I’ve enjoyed it all.” He pulled into the parking lot and found a spot along the back of the building.

  She watched the flush slide up her chest and felt it in her cheeks. “Yeah, well, you’re already getting laid. You don’t have to lie about the merchandise.”

  “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not a smooth talker. That was my father’s way. That’s how Kain works, but that’s not me. I say what I mean.”

  She’d only been teasing him. He was so incredibly intense sometimes. “All right.”

  He unhooked his seat belt and cupped her face. “I don’t know if I ever want to get to New York. I’ll be bashing heads if I find out there’s a town full of idiots who have no idea how beautiful you are.”

  She covered his hand. His eyes were so fierce. “It’s a little different when you’ve gone to school with all the guys you know since kindergarten, Shane.” And none were like him. No one had ever treated her like spun glass one minute and an exciting sexual equal the next.

  “Doesn’t stop people from growing up and grabbing a clue.” He curled one arm around her waist. He feathered his mouth along her cheek, bypassed her mouth, and coasted down her neck to her shoulder. He nosed off one strap of her tank top and pulled down her shirt until the tops of her breasts showed. He lowered his head to swirl his tongue around her nipple, then sucked until it beaded to a point. “Now look.”

  Her nipple was a deep pink from his strong pulls, and a tiny triangle of freckles shone against her fair skin. He dragged the first knuckle of his finger around the tip. “Creamy and freckled and tipped with pouty little nipples. This is what I see when I look down. This is what I can’t keep my mouth off of. Just a small part. There’s so much that I want to touch and taste.”

  “What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “You don’t have to say a damn thing. Just believe me when I say you’re beautiful.”

  She smiled slowly. “I’ll try and remember.”

  “I’ll keep on reminding you.” He reached behind her and dropped her shirt in her lap. “For now, put this on.”

  “Bossy.”

&nb
sp; He grabbed his wallet off the dash and got out. She let her head tip back against the bench seat. The overwhelming man was like a shot of adrenaline. She jumped out and followed him into the whitewashed brick building. It wasn’t a big place and reminded her of a million different mom-and-pop cafés in the Adirondacks. A sign invited them to seat themselves, and a woman with an honest-to-God beehive hairstyle came out from the back with a smile. Pastel purple shadow and mascara-heavy lashes finished her retro look.

  “I’m Maude. You folks hungry?” She dragged an old-style ticket pad out of her apron. “Drinks?”

  “Iced tea.”

  “Make that two,” Shane said.

  “You got it.”

  Kendall looked around at the checkered plastic-coated tablecloths and simple salt and pepper shakers beside milk bottle vases. A single white carnation with its fluffy petals leaned against the opening of each vase. “Did we go back in time?”

  The corner of Shane’s lips tipped up. “The side of the building said 1929.”

  “Maybe 1959 for this table.”

  “Maybe.”

  Maude bustled back with their drinks. “Need a few more minutes?”

  Kendall picked up her menu and scanned quickly. “Roast beef club for me.”

  Shane took the red-and-white plastic board from her. “Burger and fries.”

  Maude scribbled their orders. “Salad bar?”

  They both shook their heads. “Okeydoke. Be back in a jiff.” She winked.

  Kendall turned to Shane with a huge grin. “Can’t wait to see if everything comes out on a Corelle plate with blue flowers.”

  Shane took a sip of his tea and choked.

  She waggled her eyebrows.

  Three men in jeans and button-down shirts came in—two with wide buckles under expanding waistlines and a third who was long, lean, and could have been a stunt double for Sam Elliott. Not quite as handsome, a touch craggier if that was at all possible, and probably twenty years younger than the actor. He had an interesting face—an arresting face. He definitely didn’t have an off-the-rack JC Penney’s shirt on like the other two. His was tailored to fit his rangy body.

  He smiled and tipped his cowboy hat at her as they walked by and took a seat at a larger table a few feet away.

  She turned back to Shane, laughed at his quirked brow. “Oh, stop. I just thought Sam Elliott walked in the door, that’s all. But he’s too young to be him. Cold be his son, though. Jeez.” Again just a mild, blank look. She shrugged. “Road House, baby. He was hot.”

  Shane laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  Shane’s eyes lit with that inner fire that left her buzzy.

  Maude exploded from the back door. “William Doyle, as I live and breathe. What are you doing off that ranch? Lucinda usually keeps you boys watered and fed.”

  The Sam Elliott look-alike sighed. “I had to get off the ranch before I killed all those idjits working on my stables.”

  Kendall shifted to listen. Shane tapped her wrist. She turned her hand and caught his but didn’t stop listening. This she understood. Small towns were about gossip. And she was tired of thinking about her own problems.

  “Those boys are hard workers.”

  “No, they have ability but no drive. Goddamn lazy shits. Pardon, Maude.”

  “Well, the kids these days don’t have the sense God gave a flea.”

  “They work plenty hard when I stare at their—uh, when I’m present. But I have a whole ranch to run. I don’t have time to babysit,” Doyle said.

  He nodded to the two men across from him. “Pat and Charlie have foals to deal with and new horses to buy for the expanded stables.”

  Kendall turned around. “Isn’t that what you used to do?”

  Shane shook his head tightly. “That’s not a quick day job, Sunshine.”

  Kendall pulled out her phone and looked at the calendar. Eleven days until Thanksgiving. If they pushed it and traveled all day and night and Shane possibly allowed her to drive, they might be able to put in twelve hours a day and make it to New York within three days.

  He covered her phone. “You’re scheming.”

  She looked up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve got that I’m-about-to-blow-up-Shane’s-world smile on your face.”

  “No, I’ve got the I’m-about-to-save-our-asses smile on my face.” She stood up.

  “Kendall.”

  She ignored him and walked down to the table of men. “Hi. I couldn’t help but overhear what you gentlemen were talking about.”

  The man had taken off his hat, and it sat on the chair beside him. Salt-and-pepper hair fell around his ears. Freaking Sam Elliott. It was uncanny. He arched a bushy brow. “Ma’am. Just what do you think you could do to help my predicament?”

  “It sounds like you need a foreman. A good one who’s used to leading men and making sure they do what they’re supposed to.”

  “And I suppose you know how to do that?”

  She smiled wide, and Doyle smiled back. “I’ve been known to order a man around a time or two.”

  “I just bet.”

  She laughed. “But no, not me. My friend Shane Justice has a lot of experience.”

  Doyle’s brows lowered over steel-blue eyes. “Justice?”

  Kendall nodded. “Years of experience with construction and being a foreman. We’re traveling to New York to relocate—”

  His eyes sharpened. “From where?”

  She tipped her head. “California.”

  Shane stood and laid his hand along her lower back. “Don’t mind Kendall. She has no idea what goes into a project you guys are talking about.”

  She elbowed him. “I know a project that has your name on it when I hear one.”

  Doyle looked between them. “I need it done within the week, son.”

  Shane stiffened next to her. “The week? How far along are you?”

  “We’re in the finishing stages. The frame and masonry are done, but I need the inside finished. Carpentry, organization, and whipping the men into shape. My current foreman ran off with my maid last Tuesday.”

  “Theresa?” Maude sputtered.

  “Yep. I knew that girl was trouble the moment Lucinda hired her. Too pretty for her own good. Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.”

  Kendall shrugged. “Shane’s been telling me the same thing all week.”

  Shane’s fingers curled around her hip. “I’m looking for quick work. We had a little trouble with my truck and blew through our traveling money. Kendall was right about the relocating.” His chin lifted. “I’m starting over in New York but haven’t gotten myself established.”

  “You aren’t Larry Justice’s boy, are you?”

  Kendall started. Just how far a reach did Lawrence have?

  Shane’s spine stiffened. “I am.”

  “What are you doing out here? Justice Construction has most of the West Coast sewn up.”

  “Things have changed.”

  Doyle grunted. “I’ve heard of your father’s company.”

  Maude snorted inelegantly. “Doyle here owns most of this part of Utah. He’s heard of just about everyone.”

  “I know Bob Welsey.”

  Shane’s jaw lost its granite stiffness. “Small world.”

  Kendall looked up at him, then to Doyle. “I’m pretty sure I’m missing something here, but I bet I just heard an ironclad reference in there.”

  Shane glanced down at her. His fingers skimmed the slice of skin between her shirt and khakis, then rested on her hip again. “Welsey is one of those clients Kain bought.”

  Doyle’s brow lifted. “Oh?”

  “My father passed away. Kainoa Construction has taken over most of his clients thanks to a buyout.”

  Doyle’s face cleared. “I see. I’m truly sorry to hear that, son. I’ve heard nothing but good things about Larry Justice and his workhorse of a son.”

  Shane inclined his hea
d. “I’ve got some property in New York and want a change of pace.”

  She clenched her jaw. They had property in New York.

  Doyle nodded. “I understand how that is. That’s how I started my ranch. Wanted out from under my daddy’s thumb in Montana. If you can give me seven days and whip those boys into shape, I’ll get you two to New York. You get it done sooner, we can talk a bonus.”

  Shane tugged her ponytail. “Can you be away that long?”

  “I’ll check in with Mom and Bells. As long as we get there by Thanksgiving.”

  “I’ll get you there,” Shane said quietly.

  Doyle stood up and held out his hand. “Finish your lunch, and I’ll show you the cow pie you just stepped in, Shane.”

  Kendall shook his hand. “I had a good feeling when you walked in the door, Mr. Doyle.”

  “You can call me Will. Kendall, was it?”

  She nodded. “Kendall Proctor. You can call me your guardian angel.”

  Will laughed. “With all that pretty angel hair, I can’t call you anything else, now, can I?”

  She grinned up at Shane. His calm green eyes were steady, and a new strain pulled at the corners. She slid her hand into his and gripped. “We’ll see you after lunch.” She tugged Shane after her. “This is a good thing. Stop looking like I kicked your puppy.”

  Shane gave her a tight smile. “Depends how deep those cow pies are, Sunshine.”

  They sat down, and Maude dropped off their food. “Handy little story there, missy.”

  Kendall looked up at their waitress. “There’s no story. We are traveling to New York, and we are short on cash.”

  “Will Doyle is good people. I don’t want to hear that you screwed him over, you hear?”

  Kendall picked up a potato chip from the center of her plate. “Shane’s the best thing that will ever happen to William Doyle.” She popped the chip into her mouth. She was sure of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What do you think?”

  “Where are the men now?”