She wasn’t.
While she might be contemplating one night with Pete Gunner, no way was she going to actually fall for him and get her heart broken. She was too smart for that. She knew a man like Jim was what waited in her future.
But right now... Right now it wasn’t about her heart. It was about satisfying the lust gripping her body and blowing off some steam.
He knew it, and so did she, and suddenly there seemed nothing wrong with spending the next few hours together.
“Okay.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Let’s do it.”
He wasn’t the least bit surprised. Obviously. He was Pete Gunner. Irresistible to all women. He didn’t know the meaning of the word rejection. At the same time, she didn’t miss the flash of relief, as if he needed her just as much as she needed him.
Hardly.
She had no illusions about his attraction to her. He’d been with oodles of females. Drop-dead gorgeous ones that were no doubt much better in bed than she could ever be. The only reason he wanted her was because she didn’t want him. Once she gave in, the heat would soon fizzle. She would become just another notch on his belt. Another conquest to feed his womanizing reputation.
But damned if she felt like one.
Staring up into his brilliant blue eyes, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
The woman.
At least for the moment, and right now that was enough. She slipped her hand into his.
Surprisingly, however, he didn’t lead her upstairs. Instead, he threaded his fingers through hers and turned toward the front door.
Wait a second.
While she’d just committed to have sex with him, she wasn’t going to spend the next few hours watching him feed his reputation as the state’s biggest party boy.
She dug in her heels. “Shouldn’t we head upstairs and get to it?”
He winked. “I knew there was a bad girl lurking in there somewhere.”
“It’s called being practical,” she said, throwing his words back at him. “I want you. You want me. No sense putting it off.” The sooner she spent the lust eating away at her, the sooner she could forget all about Pete and climb back onto the straight and narrow.
“There are five hundred people outside, sugar. I have to put in an appearance.” He grinned that infamous grin that made her want to strip naked and beg him to kiss every inch of her body. “Unless you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep from jumping my bones in front of everyone. If that’s the case, we can stop off at the broom closet on our way out and save you the public display.”
He was playing on her precious control, and damned if it wasn’t working. “I hate to break it to your overinflated ego, but I think I can contain myself long enough for you to play the dutiful host.”
Or so she hoped.
Especially when his eyes twinkled and he murmured, “We’ll see about that, darlin’. We’ll just see about that.”
7
SHE’D ACCEPTED his offer.
He was definitely surprised at that, but not half as much as he was that he’d made the offer in the first place.
He’d been ready to run at the first sight of her tonight. She spelled trouble with her know-it-all attitude. She had his number and she made no bones about dangling that information in front of him, which made her dangerous with a capital D. He didn’t want a woman to dig down deep and psychoanalyze him. He wanted to keep being the infamous Pete Gunner.
He would.
But then he’d seen Jesse looking at her like she was the last piece of pecan pie at a Sunday social, and he’d felt a surge of jealousy. An emotion a man like Pete wasn’t the least bit familiar with. It had turned him every which way but loose and suddenly the thought of not sleeping with her scared him a hell of a lot more than the fact that she was all wrong for him.
She felt right.
Too right.
Which was why he’d brought her outside instead of straight to his room. With a crowd of people around reminding him who he was, maybe he could actually get his head on straight before they did the deed.
That’s what he told himself as he introduced her to James Hooker and spent a few minutes talking about the new arena the man had planned.
He made the rounds then, stopping to welcome everyone and share a few jokes and ask if they’d had plenty to eat. He found out that Sue Ann Jenkins was expecting twins, and the money he’d donated to the library was helping to buy books for a new wing, and the mayor had just announced he was going to run for a sixth consecutive term.
The beer flowed and the barbecue sizzled on the grill. An upbeat Kenny Chesney song lured people onto the dance floor. And Wendy Darlington drank it all in like a third-grader staring through the window of the local candy store.
He noted her cover-everything-up blouse and her plain black skirt. A complete contrast to the half-clad women belly-rubbing their way across the dance floor. His chest hitched and he had the sudden vision of her as a young kid. Shy. Naive. Holed up in a hotel room when she should have been running across a playground with other kids. He knew what she’d felt. He’d stood on the sidelines at Harding Elementary School day after day, watching the other boys play football or chase. He’d wanted so much to join in, but he’d been Vanessa Gunner’s son. A bastard. No good. Or so everyone had thought. He’d lived his childhood on the fringes, never really fitting into whatever foster family he’d been dumped into.
Which was why he’d made it his business to be the center of attention as an adult. He was always right in the thick of things. Setting the pace. Dictating the game. Holding all the cards. The one in control.
He had the feeling that by walking the straight and narrow, Wendy was doing exactly the same thing. She was exercising control of her own life, steering it in the opposite direction of her father’s, and missing out on life in the process.
Excitement.
While she wouldn’t admit it, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the tremble of her hands.
“Let’s kick up some sawdust and show these folks how it’s done.”
Excitement glimmered a split second before the doubt set in. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Come on, sugar. It’ll be fun.”
“I’m sure it would be. If I knew how.”
He squeezed her fingers just enough to let her know that she wasn’t alone. “You’ll do fine,” he murmured, his voice soft, reassuring.
A few seconds ticked by before she finally nodded.
He led her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. The two-step had faded into a soft, twangy song about green tractors.
Her arms slid around his neck. Her perky little breasts with the cranberry-colored nipples pressed against his chest Her pelvis cradled his, moving against him with a soft, subtle sway that sent a bolt of electricity straight from his hard-on to his brain.
The jolt scrambled his sanity, and instead of pushing her away and running for safety because she was the last type of woman he needed in his life, he pulled her even closer and closed his eyes.
Her hair tickled the underside of his jaw. Her strawberries-and-cream scent filled his head. Her luscious curves pressed against his hard body. Her warmth seeped inside and made his blood rush faster.
“What do I do?” her soft voice pushed past the lust beating at his brain.
“Just hold on tight and follow my lead.”
Her arms tightened and heat spiraled through him.
His hand slid an inch lower, easing from the small of her back to the swell of her sweet little ass molded by her snug skirt. His other hand slid up her back and he tugged her ponytail loose. Her hair spilled down over his hand as he cupped the back of her neck. His fingers pressed into her flesh and his thumb drew lazy circles against the tender spot just below her ear. She sighed—a soft, breathy sound that whispered through his head and sent a jolt to his cock.
The chemistry flowing between them was more powerfu
l than anything he’d ever felt before. Add to that the fact that he’d been so damned busy lately he hadn’t been rolling around the sheets nearly as often. Hell, it had been more than six months since he’d been with a woman.
All the more reason to steer her away from the dance floor, up the stairs to his bedroom and get to it. He’d fulfilled his duties as host. He could slip away right now and no one would be the wiser.
“How am I doing?”
Her soft voice slid into his ears and he noted the way her body followed his as if she’d been doing it all her life.
As if they were made for each other.
The thought struck and he stiffened.
“What’s wrong?” She stared up at him, her green eyes glittering beneath the swirl of lanterns. Her forehead wrinkled and he had the sudden urge to reach up and smooth the lines away with his fingertip. “Pete?” Surprise turned to concern. “Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah. I just need to check on the ribs.”
“What?”
Yeah, what?
“The caterer was running short on ribs and I need to make sure they were able to get some extra sent out from town.” And then he turned and got the hell out of Dodge before he did something he would surely regret.
Like fall hard and fast for Wendy Darlington.
As hard as his little brother had fallen for Ginny Hooker.
His gaze strayed to the young man and the pretty little brunette in his arms. Neither danced very well, but it didn’t seem to matter as they fumbled their way across the makeshift dance floor. They only had eyes for each other and Pete felt a pang of envy.
A certifiable feeling if he’d ever had one. Wade was just infatuated and Pete knew better than anyone how fast that eased. Once a man kissed a woman, touched her, loved her, the feeling faded. It always had in the past and Pete had no doubt that would be the case for Wade. Even if his little brother did think he was head over heels at the moment.
Infatuation. That’s all it was. It sure as hell wasn’t love. Not for Wade and certainly not for Pete himself.
No matter how well Wendy Darlington kissed or how her body molded against his when they danced or how she seemed to see right through the charade that had become his life.
Bad boy Pete Gunner didn’t fall in love, for Christ’s sake. No sirree. He didn’t get hooked and have crazy thoughts, like wanting to see a couple of kids playing out in the pasture instead of a mess of monster trucks. Kids? Hell, he’d never really thought about kids or settling down or anything.
He didn’t think. He acted.
Until now.
The thought struck and sucker punched him right in the gut. Before he could double over, however, he heard the big, booming voice and a wave of holy shit rolled through him.
“I told you these boys were responsible.”
He glanced toward the fringe of the dance floor and sure enough, J. R. Hooker stood there flanked by two deputies from the sheriff’s department. Hooker was tall and meaty, testimony to the fact that he’d played offensive lineman at Texas A & M back in the day. He wore a large Stetson, a starched Western shirt and stiff Wranglers. A badge covered his pocket. A massive diamond ring glittered on his hand as he waved it toward a few of the Lost Boys who sat at one of the picnic tables.
“They did it.” He pointed at Jesse and the others and the deputies stepped forward. “They’re the ones who helped that boy kidnap my Ginny.”
The music faded as one officer grabbed Jesse and the other went for his brother Billy, and all attention focused on the ruckus.
“We didn’t kidnap your girl,” Jesse protested.
“Damn straight we didn’t.” Billy glanced at Pete’s kid brother. “And neither did Wade.”
“That boy is now officially eighteen,” J.R. growled, motioning toward Wade. “I want him arrested and thrown in with the adults.”
“Nobody’s getting arrested,” Pete said as he walked straight into the heart of the commotion. “You know Wade didn’t kidnap Ginny,” he told J.R.
“She said she was going to study at Lizabeth Slater’s house. She never made it, which tells me she was accosted against her will.”
Pete’s gaze went to Ginny, who now stood behind her father, looking scared and intimidated and guilty as all get out. His heart went out to her because he’d heard what a loud-mouthed bastard J.R. could be and he’d seen it firsthand more times than he cared to admit. She cast hopeful glances at her brother James who stood nearby. But James wouldn’t step in and Pete didn’t want him to.
This was between him and J.R.
The sheriff hated him and rightly so. Every time he looked at Pete, he saw his past mistakes. Instead of making up for them, J.R. wanted to erase them entirely and that meant running Pete and the Lost Boys out of town once and for all.
“My brother didn’t do anything wrong,” Pete said again before turning to the deputy holding Jesse. “Lyle, you know Wade wouldn’t do such a thing, and Jesse and Billy sure wouldn’t help him.”
Lyle shook his head. “It’s not up to me to make that decision. If the girl says she was kidnapped, then Sheriff Hooker has every right to press charges. Then it’s up for a judge to decide.”
Pete turned his attention to Ginny, but she seemed to close up. She stared at her feet, refusing to say a word. He didn’t miss the tremble in her hands. “Don’t do this,” he said, turning his attention to J.R. “It’s just a misunderstanding. Drop it and we’ll forget all about it.”
“I’m not dropping anything. I want these boys arrested. Each and every one of them.”
Lyle finished popping the cuffs on Jesse and Billy, and then turned his attention to Wade. He was just about to snap on the cuffs when Ginny’s voice rang out. “Stop! He didn’t kidnap me. I came here because I wanted to, Daddy. I wanted to.”
J.R. didn’t look half as surprised at the news as he did mad that she’d opened her mouth in the first place. “You most certainly did not. No daughter of mine would associate with this kind of scum.”
“He’s not scum. He’s wonderful,” Ginny cried out.
“He’s trash. Always has been, always will be.”
Pete’s mouth drew into a tight line. “If you don’t get him out of here,” he told Lyle, “I’m going to press some charges of my own for trespassing and harassment.”
“I’d like to see you try,” J.R. said.
“Now,” Pete added. The deputy obviously didn’t miss the edge in Pete’s voice, and he acted accordingly. He released Jesse and Billy and Wade, and turned to J.R.
“We ought to be leaving now, Sheriff. Looks like this misunderstanding has been cleared up.”
“This ain’t the end of it,” Hooker added. “I ain’t putting up with this. You tell your brother to leave my little girl alone if he knows what’s good for him.”
The kicker was, Ginny was good for Wade. When he’d met her, he’d barely been passing any of his classes. She made him want to be a better person. To try harder. To think instead of rushing headfirst into the rest of his life.
Even more, she saw him for the man he was.
Like Wendy saw Pete.
She was the only one who’d ever seen beneath the surface. The only one to call him out.
His gaze went to where she stood on the sidelines, obviously shaken by what had just happened. Her gaze met his and he felt the crazy hitch in his chest. A reaction that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that he actually liked her. The way she smelled. The way she smiled. The dogged determination. The unmistakable compassion. The understanding.
Yeah, right. They’d just met.
Yet in the short time that they’d been together, she’d seen more of him than any woman ever had before, and he’d seen her. The fear when she spoke about her past. The determination not to follow in her father’s footsteps. Even more, he understood about wanting to change the past, to run from it, to stay one step ahead. He’d been doing it his entire life.
Like her, he still was.
>
But maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t mind slowing down if he had Wendy to slow down with.
Crazy.
That’s what he tried to tell himself as he spent the next few hours playing the dutiful host and avoiding Wendy as much as possible. He threw down a few shots with his neighbor and twirled the prettiest girls around the dance floor, and did his damnedest to ignore the woman who watched from the sidelines.
He did his damnedest to forget her, but he couldn’t. She’d gotten under his skin, into his head, into his heart.
No. What he felt was purely physical. He knew that. He’d gotten hooked on women before; one roll in the sack and bam! They’d been off his radar.
Wendy would be no different. That’s what he told himself as the night wound down and everyone started to leave.
And there was only one way to prove it.
* * *
WENDY GRABBED THE BOTTLE of honey and squirted a dollop of golden liquid on top of one warm biscuit. She sat at one of the picnic tables and watched the band pack up the last of the instruments. Most of the lanterns had gone out and the guests had left. The few who remained had climbed into their trucks and hightailed it out to the bonfire that burned in the far distance. The lead singer for the band climbed into the cab of his truck, the engine grumbled and Wendy found herself alone watching the lights flicker in the far distance.
It had been hours since the chaos with the sheriff’s department and everybody seemed to have forgotten the drama.
Everyone except for Pete. She’d seen the strain in his face, the fear behind his perpetual grin. He’d been afraid for his brother and her heart tightened at the realization. Pete wasn’t half the wild child he’d pretended. If he had been, he wouldn’t have threatened to have J. R. Hooker arrested for trespassing, he would have thrown a punch. And another. And another.
He’d talked his way out instead. Albeit forcefully, but still... Pete wasn’t nearly the irresponsible, immature, hot-to-trot cowboy everyone thought he was. He had his act together. He just didn’t want to admit it.
Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew UpHooked Page 6
