One Hot Summer

by Melissa Cutler

  “To some extent, yes. But mostly because this isn’t my home.”

  “Yet,” he couldn’t help but add. “And for your information, I’ve got a nice nest egg cushion built up, too, so maybe we don’t need to think so hard about having our safety nets in place, anticipating the demises of our careers at the hands of Ty Briscoe.”

  “Maybe we’ll just keep driving each other crazy and enjoying the ride.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.” She snuggled in closer. They might not be meant to be, but Micah couldn’t wait to ride this train as far as it went. He did need to make one point crystal clear, though. “I might have judged you unfairly, but I’m not using you for your fame or fortune. I want to make sure we’re solid about that.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I know you’re not. You hate rich people on principle.”

  “Not all rich people.”

  She pinned him with a withering look. “Who’s a liar now?”

  “I guess the most honest answer is that I’d never met a wealthy person I liked before you.” Which was the truth. “Enough talk. Lie back with me.”

  He tugged on her shoulder until she reclined back with him, settling into the crook of his arm as though she were born for it. He wished he hadn’t gotten that emergency call the other night. He could’ve fallen asleep in his bed with her like this so easy. He combed his fingers through Remedy’s hair and swirled his feet in the cool water, letting his mind wander to the sound track of the wind in the trees, the hum of cicadas, and the babble of the creek.

  A hot breeze puffed over them, reminding Micah of an oven. Or Remedy’s house. “I have one more pressing question for you, if you don’t mind.”

  She stiffened. “What now?”

  He stroked his hand along her side, trying to soothe her worries. “If you have a trust fund, then why haven’t you sprung for a new air-conditioning unit?”

  Her body melted back against his, but this time she was grinning. “That’s a fair question. I’ve been too busy with work. Plus my current air conditioner has personality. I’m having fun with it. I named it Luke. As in Cool Hand Luke.”

  “That might be funny except your Luke isn’t all that cool.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that.” She poked one of his shirt’s buttons through the buttonhole, then started on the next one and then the next until she’d opened enough space for her to stick her hand through the opening and touch his skin.

  Guess he wasn’t the only one in the mood for some lazy Sunday lovin’ out in the boondocks. He wasn’t sure he deserved this second chance, but he planned to make the most of it.

  Though it was tempting to help her get the rest of the buttons undone, they weren’t in any kind of a hurry. Instead, he cupped her cheek and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. “I know you don’t feel like you fit in anywhere in a permanent way, but for today I’d say you belong exactly where you are—under this tree by the creek. With me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open to gaze at him with a look of wonder. She shifted up to her knees, then slid her leg across his body and straddled him. “It’s my turn to ask you one last pressing question,” she said, unfastening the remaining buttons of his shirt.

  “All right.”

  She splayed his shirt open and ran her hands over his chest. The tips of her hair tickled his skin. “What’s up with the Texas quilt in your bedroom?”

  The question was so out of left field that he snorted out a laugh. “You liked that?”

  She gave him her best oh, please look. “You went down on me while I was lying in the middle of an image of Texas like I was a sacrifice to the redneck gods.”

  He tugged a lock of her hair. “Who says you weren’t?”

  She gave his chest a playful shove.

  “It was a gift from my older brother right before he got married. He called it his getting lucky quilt. Said he didn’t need it anymore now that he was getting hitched.”

  “Okay, that is disgusting. Ew. Ew. Ew.” She poked Micah’s ribs in time with each word.

  He squirmed, ticklish, then slid his hands up her legs, under her dress, his hand exploring her soft curves all the way up to the sexy-as-hell flare of her hips. “It’s not like I didn’t wash it after he gave it to me.”

  “Micah, there’s not enough hot water in the world to wash the nasty out of that … that … quilt of depravity.”

  Digging his legs against the riverbank for leverage, he held her in place against him and sat. Her position on his lap gave his mouth perfect access to her chest, so he dropped his lips to her skin and kissed a path along the edge of her dress.

  “I’ve got news for you, darlin’. The quilt stays. It’s a family heirloom,” he said against her skin between kisses.

  “Next time we do it in your bed, I’m going to shout out, ‘For the glory of Texas!’ as I come.”

  He dropped his forehead to her chest and chuckled at the image that evoked. “Careful now. That’s a slippery slope. Only a matter of time before I’m taking you to get a cute little Texas tramp stamp tattoo for me to admire when I’m riding you. I’m sure all your Hollywood friends would love that.”

  Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “When is that happening, by the way?”

  He hoped she meant him riding her, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease her. “The tattoo? Say the word.”

  Smiling ruefully, she grabbed the champagne bottle and brought it to her lips. Suddenly there was nothing he wanted in the whole wide world more than to find out what champagne tasted like on her skin.

  He drew her lower lip into his mouth. The taste of tart sugar and strawberries flooded his senses. A guttural rumble of pleasure vibrated through his chest. He released her lip and took her whole on the mouth, finding her tongue with his. Her tongue was cool and tasted less of champagne and more of Remedy, absolutely addictive.

  Bracing her back with his hand, he shifted to his side and lowered her to the blanket.

  He took a moment to worship her legs right and proper with his lips and hands. It’d been too dark on Friday night to take in many visual details of her body, but he remembered that California tan from the riverbank party the first time they met. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her that day. The way she moved, the way she laughed. And now here she was, her legs around him, her heavy-lidded eyes watching him love on her, those champagne-strawberry lips parted in pleasure.

  Rocking up to his knees, he took the bottle in hand again and poured a splash of champagne on her bent knee. She shivered and inhaled sharply at the cold. Micah chased the droplets up her thigh with his tongue and lingered there at the junction of her hip and leg to tease the edge of her panties with his teeth.

  Her fingers splayed against the blanket. Her back arched as he put his hands on her hips and slid her dress up her body, past those pale pink panties trimmed in black lace, past the creamy stretch of her stomach until he saw a hint of a pink-and-black bra.

  He kissed his way back down to her belly and scratched his chin against her mound, letting her clit know he’d be tending to it before too long. But first that stomach deserved his devotion. He set the bottom of the bottle against her flesh. She startled at the feel of cold glass; then her breathing turned shallow as he dragged the glass in loops along her waist from one hip bone to the other, then up her middle between her ribs to the base of her bra.

  “Brace yourself,” he murmured before drizzling champagne into her belly button.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and gripped the blanket in both fists.

  He buried his face in her middle and licked off every drop of champagne. He couldn’t get enough of that blend of sweet wine and even sweeter skin. The more he tasted her, the more insatiable his hunger got.

  He drizzled champagne over her panties, turning them transparent, the hair below becoming a rich brown now that it was wet. He pressed his lips to the wet fabric, reveling in her scent and the blended flavor of champagne a
nd her arousal—a combination he’d never experienced before. He’d had no idea what he’d been missing.

  He’d occasionally dabbled in food play at the request of his partners, but they usually stuck to the usual suspects of chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Nothing like the pleasure of having Remedy Lane laid out on a blanket under his favorite tree, her tanned, toned body drizzled with what was probably a very expensive bottle of alcohol.

  He peeled the panties down her legs and tossed them on the blanket, then gave her a series of long, slow licks that made her whimper again, which was fast becoming his favorite sound in the world. Time for a new flavor addition to the party. What went best with champagne? Strawberries and chocolate, of course.

  He nibbled the end off a berry, then traced her opening and along each fold and wrinkle, painting her flesh a deep pink. With each stroke of his strawberry paintbrush, she writhed. The blanket twisted in her grip and pulled from the ground. He loved that he could drive her wild, loved imagining how hard she was working not to grab his face and ride it like a cowgirl.

  Time to reap the rewards of his efforts. He brought his mouth to her pussy and followed the same path as the strawberries, lapping up the heady blend of flavors. He would never think of strawberries or champagne again without his mind going back to this summer day with Remedy. Time to sink his fingers into her wet, tight body and take her all the way home.

  He wet two fingers and pushed them inside her, so gently and sweetly that her flesh melted around him and her hips strained for more. The decisive thrust he gave her next wrested a whimper from her throat. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feast, massaging her G-spot with every thrust and licking her swollen clit with a building rhythm of soft and firm, slow and fast.

  When she shattered, her cry echoed off the trees and sent birds flying. Her feet pedaled against the bank and her hips rose off the ground. He hooked his arms around her legs and locked his mouth against her, riding the wave of her release until she collapsed back, spent and panting.

  For the first time since he’d gotten his mouth on her body, Micah became aware of his own arousal. His dick was hard as stone and pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his jeans. He sat back on his heels and unsnapped his fly. As he palmed himself over his underwear, his attention shifted to Remedy. Her legs were splayed on either side of him, her panties were soaking wet, and her chest heaved with the effort of breathing.

  He dipped his hand inside his briefs and gave himself a rub. The first touch of his fingers against the base of his head made him see stars. Goddamn, Remedy revved his engine like no one else.

  “Go ahead and say it,” Remedy breathed, her eyes on the clouds.

  “Say what?”

  She barely mustered a lopsided smile, she was so relaxed. “Make a corny joke about me being the picnic.”

  “I considered it, but I’m still stuck on thinking about you as an offering on my redneck altar.”

  “But I’ve been waiting patiently for a picnic joke.”

  Though her tension had been sated, he was too consumed with driving need to make a joke. He released his erection and reached out to take her hand. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now? You’re so damn hot that I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, thinking about what you let me do to you today.”

  Remedy raised her hand and watched the mottled shadows dance over her skin. “They teach you how to do all this in alpha school?”

  “What, food play?”

  She molded his hand to her breast. “How to make mind-blowing love to a city girl out in the sticks.”

  He brushed his thumb over her breast until he could feel her nipple harden. “I’m not going to claim I’ve never made love out in the backcountry, but being here with you isn’t like anything I’ve ever done before.”

  She arched, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand. “I’m your first celebrity lay?”

  “How’d you know I didn’t mean my first Briscoe Ranch Resort executive lay? Because you’re that, too.”

  “For the record, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever been with, either.”

  No surprise there. “Let me guess.…” He brought his hand up to enumerate on his fingers. “First Texan, first firefighter—”

  She nudged his ribs with her foot. “First Alpha Bubba lay.”

  “I was gettin’ to that part.”

  “Then I think it’s time for the part I was gettin’ to.” She sat up. Drops of champagne and strawberry juice slid down her body like liquid jewels. “My turn.”

  If anyone were to stumble upon Remedy and Micah, they’d get quite an eyeful. He’d never considered himself an exhibitionist, but the thought sent a thrill through him. Out here in the Texas wilderness on a blanket with her he felt wild and free—and he loved every second of it.

  She knelt before him and he had a moment’s debate whether this was the direction he wanted to take their afternoon in. He’d wanted this picnic to be all about her pleasure, but the way she pressed lingering kisses to his stomach, her chin nudging his cock, destroyed his resistance.

  She pulled the elastic band of his briefs down, freeing him. That act alone, the air hitting his bare flesh, was enough to rock him where he stood. He rolled his head back, his eyes closed, and concentrated on the feel of her hand stroking him.

  At the first touch of her tongue, his breath left his body with a primordial grunt. He let his face fall forward and looked down the length of his body only to find that she was looking up at him. The way the sunlight and shadows hit her face, he could see the complicated hues of her eyes. Flecks of amber and black danced in the blue. Thick black lines rimmed her irises. Her eyes were so full of passion he almost forgot his name.

  In that moment, staring into her eyes, he realized that she was, perhaps, this woman who’d crash-landed into his little town, one of the most complicated and fascinating souls he’d ever met. Making love to her was just as complicated and fascinating. Touching her, kissing and loving on her, charged him up with an undeniable electricity, even as the heavy sense of their connection smoothed out his rough edges.

  This affair was going to change him. She was going to change him. He braced himself for a chaser of doom or fear to spoil the pure pleasure of it all, but it didn’t come. She sank her mouth over his erection, taking him deep, and he was lost, body and soul.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wednesday was Remedy’s favorite day of the workweek, a day of calm before the storms that rolled through her life every weekend. Thursday brides and their mothers would start lighting up her phone nonstop, anxious about last-minute details, and Fridays were burdened with a ticking-clock pressure and a to-do list that only seemed to get longer as the day wore on. But Wednesdays were Remedy’s chance to have brainstorming conversations with future brides about their dream receptions, catch up on industry blogs, and peruse vendor catalogs at her leisure.

  After a long morning meeting with Emily and Alex regarding that weekend’s weddings—including two big productions with three-hundred-plus guests and two small events with simple ceremonies in the resort’s wedding gazebos and reception dinners held in semiprivate rooms within the resort’s main restaurant—Remedy was grabbing a breath of fresh air when Litzy sprinted by her in the opposite direction while pushing a rolling cart piled high with white tablecloths.

  Remedy grabbed her sleeve as she passed. “Not so fast.”

  Litzy ground to a halt, though her body practically vibrated with impatience. “Sorry. I’ll slow down.”

  “Rule number one in event planning: We never run, because we set the tone. No matter how dire the emergency, we’re calm and in control. You never know if any resort guests or members of a bridal party are watching.”

  Litzy was a good employee—not great, but she was slowly getting the hang of Remedy’s way of doing things—but they’d been over Remedy’s rules before and apparently this particular one hadn’t sunk in yet.

  “Yes. Got it.” Litzy seemed t
o be only half-listening. Her attention darted between Remedy and the end of the building. Remedy followed her gaze and saw the back bumper of a gray minivan.

  Alarm bells sounding in her mind. Remedy was trying her best to trust Litzy—she truly was, because there was no logical reason to expect a repeat of the Zannity disaster—but it was obvious that Litzy was trying to hide something. Why was she pushing a rolling cart of white table linens out of the building? There were no special events at the resort that day. And what was up with that minivan? Remedy intended to find out.

  “Good,” Remedy answered. “Now go forth and be cool. Nice and easy.”

  Litzy shot another furtive glance toward the minivan. “Nice and easy. Got it.”

  She walked with forced slow steps toward the end of the building. Remedy waited, watching until Litzy had disappeared from view. Remedy stealth walked to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. Litzy and a Latina woman who looked about Remedy’s age were unloading the tablecloths into the back of the minivan.

  “Litzy, what’s going on?” Remedy said in her calmest, most collected tone.

  Litzy and her accomplice jumped and whirled around in a fruitless attempt to shield their nefarious activity behind their backs.

  Litzy gestured to the other woman, whose expression redefined the term poker face. “We were just … moving some tablecloths.”

  “I can see that. Moving them where, precisely?”

  “The resort won’t need these until Friday’s wedding,” the other woman said.

  So they weren’t stealing, per se, but merely borrowing the linens for a day. Relief swept through Remedy. That she could handle. As long as Litzy wasn’t sleeping with any of the grooms from the resort’s upcoming weddings, Remedy could handle anything.

  Remedy offered the other woman her hand. “I’m Remedy, the new special events manager. And you are?”

  She eyed Remedy’s hand, unimpressed. “Skye Martinez from Housekeeping. Maybe you’ve heard of my mother, Yessica, who is the head of housekeeping at Briscoe Ranch. As was her mother before her. Or maybe you know my father, Beto, who runs the maintenance department here and has been with the Briscoes for thirty years.”