by Fiona Lowe
Why worry? Two nights ago you wanted her to think exactly that.
For some unfathomable reason it now bothered him and that ticked him off. He found himself missing the general animosity that usually swirled between them. That he understood and it had kept him from acting on the fact his body wanted her. With a sigh, he bent down. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You’re really helping. You probably could have been a model if you hadn’t gone into farming.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.” He’d been raised on a farm and was a country boy through and through. He had no time for fripperies and false images. He fingered the soil as he often did, but the excitement he usually got from feeling the perfect mix of moisture and organic matter didn’t come.
The camera clicked rapidly. “Can you walk into the actual field and then do a peekaboo from behind the stalks?”
He rose to his feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.” She looked taken aback and came and stood next to him. “I want to see if the shot will work or if the shadows are too long.”
The request hit the limit of his patience. Everything he believed about being a man was suddenly at stake. “Not even a whipped groom is going to pop out from behind sunflower stalks.”
Her chestnut brows quirked knowingly. “Believe me, a groom will do pretty much anything his bride asks, especially if she’s invoked the ‘no sex’ rule for the previous seven days.”
Her lush lips had formed a perfect red O when she said “no,” and when it combined with the smoky way her voice rolled over the word sex, he let his throbbing body take control. He stepped in close. The fruity scent of her hair and the crisp fresh aroma of her perfume flooded him and he looked straight into those upward-slanting eyes rimmed with thick, cocoa lashes. “A groom will do pretty much anything the bride wants, you say?”
Her eyes widened at his softly spoken words but she didn’t back away. “So I’ve been told.”
“Then he’s not much of a man.” He slid his hand under the bob of her hair, his fingers cupping the soft skin of her neck. Her warmth caressed his palm and her pulse bounded against it.
She shuddered at his touch, the delicious movement flowing into him like a heat-seeking missile with its target fully in its sights. He groaned and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, gently easing the damp fullness down.
For a long moment time stood still—his thumb suspended against delicious softness. Then she flicked out her tongue, its pink tip circling the pad of his thumb, around and around and around. His blood roared, shattering his pretense at restraint and he lowered his mouth to hers.
Erin shut her mind to all the reasons why kissing Luke Anderson was a hugely dumb idea. Instead she focused on the fact that he was real rather than a disembodied, sexy GPS voice, and she closed her eyes on a blissful sigh. Who knew the gorgeous to look at yet often irritable, difficult and confusing guy was a kissing god. How could that be?
But answering that question was beyond her as his mouth trailed over hers. The slight scratch of his work-hardened hands was as rough as he got. There was no saliva-loaded attack, no tongue lashing at her teeth trying to gain entry before being plunged down her throat. No, this kiss was soft, enticing and divine—a slow exploration of her lips as if they were some precious parcel to be unwrapped slowly and carefully, layer upon layer upon layer.
Her arm lost strength and dropped to her side, her grip on her camera barely holding, and she leaned into him. Pliant and sighing against his mouth, she lost herself in the wonder of the moment, hoping it would never end. She could stay here all day being kissed like this, pressed up against his broad, solid chest, and still be left wanting more.
His fingers toyed with her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as his mouth moved slowly off her lips and reached her jaw. Her body turned liquid as pleasure streamed through her, slowly waking her up cell by cell and stripping her muscles and bones of their form. Her head tilted back of its own accord, giving him access to more skin, wanting more of the same, and as his mouth roamed, her body floated. It was like lying in a warm, fragrant bath surrounded by candles and listening to the lulling sounds of Vivaldi. He plied her skin with featherlight kisses as if she was fragile porcelain and any more pressure might make her shatter.
Oh, yes, please.
She gloried in it all and was just hoping that he’d start nuzzling her neck, especially the dip at the base, when he reached her earlobe. He kissed it tenderly. She sighed again.
He nipped it with his teeth and sucked it.
Her eyes flew open as her blood burst into flames. Delicious lethargy vanished. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel him inside her. She needed his tongue to plunder her mouth, to brand her with his heat, and she wanted to do exactly the same to him. And more. Forgetting she was holding her camera, she threw her arms around his neck and it banged him on the bony scapula.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“Put it down.”
“No, it’s worth a fortune.”
“Keep the damn thing still then.”
“Shut up.” Her free hand pulled his head down to hers, and she opened her mouth and invaded his.
Stars exploded in the back of Luke’s head. Erin tasted of vanilla coffee, mint, and a hot and desperate need that matched his own. There was nothing delicate or tentative about her kiss. She was exploring his mouth exactly how he liked it—taking what he offered and leaving her own mark.
He felt her breasts tighten against his chest, firming into two hard balls of arousal and if he wasn’t already totally hard, he would have matched her. He slid his hand under her tank top, his fingers sliding against smooth, warm skin until they met the clasp of her bra. With one deft flick, the back opened.
She broke the kiss, looking up at him with a grin on her face. “You’ve done that before.”
His hand snuck around and cupped her left breast. “Once or twice. I’m pretty good.”
She half gasped, half moaned and he ached for her.
“I’m better,” she said as her free hand whipped down from his neck. A second later, she was gently cupping his testicles through his jeans.
Game on. He stroked her nipple.
She shuddered, hooked his gaze and stroked him, her fingers gently sliding over the bulge of his erection.
He shuddered.
They matched stroke for stroke, gasp for gasp, and moan for moan until she fell against him and he lifted her off her feet, not caring that the damn camera was now digging into his back. All he knew was that he had to feel her legs wrapped around him and the pressure of her body pressed hard against him.
The yapping sounds of her dog floated on the air but he ignored them as he buried his mouth against those pillow-soft lips and felt them yield to him. God, she was so responsive, he could barely see straight.
Mac’s insistent bark joined the yapping and Erin’s tongue paused in its delicious assault. He flicked his tongue against hers to kick-start the kiss.
“Luu-ke.”
Erin unwrapped her legs so fast he almost lost his balance.
“Luu-ke.”
He realized someone was calling his name. “Shit.”
“Let me go!” Erin pushed at his arms which were supporting her thighs.
He half lowered her, half dropped her as some of his blood managed to reach his brain. He saw Erin fumbling with her bra. “Do you need a hand?”
She shook her head as Mac’s barks sounded closer. “Should you go meet him?”
“Mac?” He wasn’t sure he could actually walk.
“Not Mac.” She half pushed him toward the end of the row. “The guy who’s calling you.”
“Luu-ke! Mac, go find him, boy.” The booming voice sounded really close now.
What the... Shock thundered through him
so fast he swayed as lust was replaced with utter astonishment. He shoved his shirt into his jeans and with a throbbing pain in his groin, he stepped out onto the dirt road.
“Dad?”
Chapter Six
The dogs had stopped barking and Erin could hear the rumble of male voices. The longer she stayed hidden in the sunflower row, the more difficult it would be to appear without drawing attention to the fact she’d been there for two minutes. That she’d had her tongue stuck down Luke Anderson’s throat, had been rubbing herself hard against him like a dog in heat and mere moments from an orgasm.
Her cheeks burned so hot that eggs could be fried on them. Dear God, she’d thrown herself at the man, letting her sex-starved body call all the shots. Instead of spending her time flirting with Ken and Patrick, she should have been taking practical care of her libido with a little bit of self-love every now and then. That way, she might have had some control over her inner slut. But no, she’d happily pushed her sex drive onto the back burner, thinking she was the one in control, only to find herself dry-humping the first man who’d kissed her in months. She had to buy herself a vibrator. Now.
Yeah, but he can so totally kiss.
She couldn’t argue with that. He was an awesome kisser, but that didn’t mean kissing him again was going to be the best idea in the world. The man didn’t operate within any normal social boundaries. Well, not with her anyway. She found it so much easier when he was being his grudgingly polite self with lapses of rudeness—that she could deal with because it was expected. Luke being obliging—like when he’d allowed her to use him as a model—was unexpected and not only did those cooperative moments confuse the hell out of her, it made him even more sexy and oh so hard to resist.
But sexy or not, she didn’t have time in her life for confusing. She had a business to establish and a photography competition to win and those two things took priority.
Time to face real life. Finger-smoothing her hair, she gulped in some breaths and then proceeded to back out of the row of sunflowers with her camera up at her face. The visitor wasn’t to know she was shooting clear, blue sky.
As she came clear of the plants, she turned and called out casually, “Thanks, Luke. I’m done.”
Luke was standing next to an older, slightly shorter version of himself. Unlike his son, who specialized in wearing jeans teamed with cutoff shirts that showed off his wonderfully work-sculptured arms, his father wore a baseball cap, a golf polo shirt with a club logo and long shorts. He had Maggie-May tucked firmly under his arm and Mac lying at his feet. Was he a dog whisperer?
As she approached, Luke didn’t flash her the expected conspiratorial-partners-in-crime look that said, Phew, that was a close call. We almost got caught in flagrante. No, he gave her a curt nod as if he hadn’t moments ago had one of his fingers inside her panties.
“Erin, meet my father, Vernon Anderson.”
She shot out her hand and then realized it was holding her camera. With a laugh that sounded slightly more anxious than she’d hoped, she quickly passed it to her other hand. Remembering what Luke had said the first time she’d met him, she said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Anderson. Unlike your son, you seem to have bewitched my dog.”
He smiled broadly. “She’s a friendly little thing...”
Erin threw Luke an “I told you” look just as Vernon said, “...only don’t let her near the cows.”
“Which is exactly what I told her.” Luke’s divine mouth tweaked up on one side as if to say, score one.
“Talking about cows, son, are you operating on Arizona time too?”
Erin heard a thread of criticism in Vernon’s voice and for some reason she found herself saying, “It’s my fault. I held Luke up, sorry.”
Luke ignored her defense. “Brett will have started, Dad, and I’m on my way now.”
“I always started at four.”
“You did.” Luke ran his hand across the back of his neck. “Where’s Mom?”
“Back at the house starting supper.” Vernon handed Erin a now struggling Maggie-May who was desperately trying to get to her. “I’ll let Martha know there’ll be an extra, shall I?”
Luke didn’t even look at her. “Erin won’t be staying, Dad.”
I won’t? Okay then. Good to know we both regret those few minutes of complete craziness. “Thank you very much for the invitation, but I’ve got turn-down duty at the B and B and photos to edit.”
“Another time, then. Martha and I are going to be here for a few weeks.”
Luke made an odd sort of choking sound and then coughed. “Summer cold,” he said, quickly clearing his throat. “What about the golf tournament you were telling me about? Isn’t that next week?”
The bellows of cows floated over to them.
Vernon slung his arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand with the milking.”
Erin watched them walk away, struck by the set of their shoulders as Vernon’s arm fell back by his side. Surrounded by acres of beautiful countryside and bucolic fresh air, neither father nor son looked remotely relaxed.
* * *
“More lemon meringue pie?”
Luke smiled at his mother and shook his head. “No, thanks, Mom.”
Disappointment scudded across her cheeks. “It’s your favorite.”
“Actually, it’s my favorite, Mom. Mine and Wade’s,” his sister, Keri, said, serving up another two portions and handing one off to Wade. “Luke’s favorite is cherry pie à la mode.”
Martha laughed. “Of course it is. I should have remembered that, especially as there’s a slice of cherry pie in the refrigerator.”
“Poor Luke,” Keri said with mock concern. “Reduced to buying frozen pie.”
“I believe poor Luke had it baked for him,” Wade said, his eyes twinkling as he scooped up a mouthful of the decadently rich lemon custard.
“Really, you made him a pie?” Keri asked.
Wade grinned and rolled his eyes. “I’m a caring brother but I’m not that good. No, I believe Erin not only baked him his favorite pie but cooked him prime rib.”
Suddenly three sets of questioning eyes swung to Luke and locked on to him.
Thanks, bro.
“A woman who can cook? Luke, way to go.” Keri slapped him on the back approvingly. “Keep this one. It’s why I married Phil.”
“Erin?” Vernon asked. “The unusual-looking girl in the sunflower field with the enormous eyes?” He nodded his head slowly as realization dawned across his gray-whiskered face. “Now I understand why you were late starting the milking.”
His mother’s face lit up with a combination of hope that he might finally be thinking of settling down and chagrin that Vernon had met her first. “Invite her over, Luke, so we can meet her.”
Luke silently groaned, knowing he had to stomp on this fast or he’d find himself sitting down to supper next to Erin while his loving, well-intentioned but extremely misguided family subjected them to the third degree, including the expected date of their fourth-born.
“Erin only cooked me a meal because she wanted to discuss using the sunflower field for one of her client’s wedding photos. We’re not a couple. We’re not even dating.”
Just almost having sex on the dirt in a field.
“It’s just business,” he said loudly and instantly regretted the volume. He dropped his voice. “Lakeview Farm is doing its bit for Whitetail’s wedding business, is all.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Wade said approvingly.
Sometimes he couldn’t figure Wade out at all. His brother had neatly dropped him in it by teasing him about Erin, and now he was changing the subject to protect and smooth over Luke’s overemphatic denouncement that nothing was going on between them. And nothing was going on.
Nothing exc
ept for the fact she’d kissed him like he was the last man standing and he hadn’t been so aroused in—ever.
No, not even close. He fondly remembered Julia from Australia and Lisa from New Zealand, and how both of whom had raised the bar along with Penny from Pepin. All three had firmly established the fact that farm girls were perfect for him.
None of them kissed like Erin.
He had the overwhelming urge to go chop wood. Lots and lots of wood to silence the voice in his head.
Wade kept talking. “The cottages and the B and B are benefiting from Whitetail’s new direction and I think we could be more involved in the wedding side of things.”
We? Luke’s brain snapped on topic, but as he opened his mouth, Vernon spoke first.
“Wade, Lakeview’s a farm.”
“I’m well aware of that, Dad.” Wade wore the look of an adolescent boy who’d struggled to find a place in his father’s world and still be true to himself.
“And talking about the farm...” his mother rushed into the conversation, inserting herself between her eldest son and her husband like she’d done so many times in the past twenty years, “...is why we’re here and why we picked Keri up on the way. We want to talk to you all together. We’ve had almost a year in Arizona now and your father and I think it’s time we formalized things.”
Shit. Luke tensed and drained his glass of water. He wasn’t ready for this.
Martha looked expectantly at Vernon and nodded as if to say, I’ve got their attention, your turn now.
His father sucked in his cheeks and fiddled with the edge of the place mat.
Martha frowned. “Vern?”
His father sighed. “Your mother thinks it’s time to talk about officially transferring the farm over to Luke and involving everyone in the family trust.” His gaze sought Luke’s and Keri’s. “As Luke’s the only one of the three of you who wants to farm, this is the fairest way of doing things.”
Tell them. “Unless we sell,” Luke said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “The beach acres alone are worth over a million dollars.”
