The Sex Solution

by Kimberly Raye

  The first scent was all about hot-blooded, full-bodied femininity. It portrayed power, passion, force and heat, or so she hoped. It was a sensual berry aroma warmed with a hint of lily and jasmine that hovered between a rich floral and an oriental.

  Number two relied on the old saying the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. The scent was a concoction of sweet, sensual vanilla, candied apples and cinnamon that reminded her of a rich, succulent spice cake.

  Number three was a walk on the dark side with a deep, rich musk as its base. Amber and myrrh had been added and the result was positively hypnotic, or so she hoped.

  Scent four leaned toward a light, playful floral, while scent five was more a fruity sorbet. All of them were stirring, and guaranteed to heat a man hotter than Texas asphalt at high noon.

  If said man ever showed up.

  She walked back into the kitchen and chugged half a can of diet cola before eyeing the unopened bag of Oreos. Just one, she told herself as she reached over and grabbed the goodies. To help her calm down.

  Hey, even a weight-conscious woman needed comfort food sometimes.

  Five cookies later she forced her fingers to close the bag. Her heart still raced and her nerves still buzzed, the condition even worse, thanks to the chocolate. But at least her taste buds were sated. For the moment.

  Her gaze went to the laptop sitting nearby, flanked by a stack of computer notes. Several laboratory burners were scattered on the ceramic-tile countertop. Petri dishes sat here and there. An expensive, state-of-the-art microscope stood tall and proud in the far corner near a pink pig cookie jar.

  While she was every bit the serious, dedicated scientist now, with the way she felt at this moment she might well have been just a wannabe back in high school.

  She found herself pulled back in time to a similar moment when she’d sat in the library, her algebra book in front of her, a muffin in her hand. Excited voices had carried from the hallway as kids headed to band practice and cheerleading practice and the myriad of other after-school activities. Meanwhile Maddie Hale had waited. And waited.

  Austin had failed to show up at their first scheduled tutoring session. The meeting had slipped his mind, or so he’d later told her. He’d forgotten, after she’d tossed and turned all night, anticipating the day ahead. The one hour she would spend sitting across from Cadillac’s most notorious bad boy.

  She’d picked out her best dress and taken extra pains with her hair, and all to sit alone in the library for an hour and a half before finally giving up.

  Now she stared down at the red strapless dress she’d slipped on after a long, hot shower earlier this evening. The material clung to every inch of her ample body, revealing every curve, every bulge.

  She forced aside the last thought. Twenty pounds lighter, she’d lost the bulges. Curves were the only thing left now, and she had plenty. The dress hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination, but then that was the point. She wanted to be a little bit outrageous.

  That’s why, several weeks ago, she’d walked into Eye Candy, the upscale Houston boutique that specialized in clothing like you’d find at Frederick’s of Hollywood, and forked over an obscene amount of money for their top-of-the-line piece. She’d wanted to make sure that no man who pushed her lust-o-meter into the danger zone would overlook her ever again. As Austin Jericho had done twelve years ago.

  The thing was, while she’d met many men, none of them had ever pushed her into the danger zone, and so she’d yet to put the dress to the test. Until tonight. But with a few strategically placed pieces of Velcro, not to mention some hidden zippers, she had no doubt the outfit would deliver on its promise. Sexy and irresistible.

  Add a pair of three-inch slut shoes, and she was good to go in the seduction department.

  Now all she needed was the man.

  Unfortunately, it looked as if history was repeating itself. A deep breath blew past her lips. At least she’d smartened up some in the past twelve years. She’d given Austin the benefit of the doubt an hour and a half before facing the truth back in high school.

  But now… She checked the clock. After forty-five minutes she was calling it quits.

  “Looks like you’re on your own,” she murmured to herself. Again.

  “I know the feeling, gal.”

  Madeline glanced up to see Uncle Spur standing in the kitchen doorway, his hat in his hand, a frown on his face. A gurgle sounded and she grinned.

  “You sound hungry.”

  He rubbed his belly. “Huntin’ for a wife is hard work. I had barbecue over at the diner for lunch with a nice little filly by the name of Myrna Beth Standley, but I ain’t had nothin’ since on account of a little mishap.”

  “Would that be the Myrna Standley? The preacher’s mother? Don’t tell me you propositioned Pastor Standley’s mother.”

  “I did no such thing. She propositioned me.”

  “She asked you to marry her?”

  “Hell’s bells, no. She propositioned me, girlie. As in s-e-x,” he said, spelling the last word.

  “No way.” At his vigorous nod, she added, “She just came out and asked you? Just like that?”

  “Right there between the barbecue sandwich and the homemade onion rings.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her no can do since I left my Viagra back at the ranch, and I ain’t even one-hundred-percent sure it works since I haven’t actually tried it yet. I’m sure it will, mind you. It’s just a matter of getting the right dosage. Anyhow, I told her I’m looking for a wife not a one-night stand.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That got her all the more revved up ’cause I said one night, which she took to mean all night. So she kept after me, scooting across the seat and rubbin’ my leg underneath the bench. I finally had to call for help, which wasn’t too easy considerin’ I was wheezing something fierce ’cause I couldn’t breathe. She’s a big woman and she was taking up all my space. The sheriff came and threw her in the pokey and I spent all afternoon filling out an incident report so he could keep her there and teach her a lesson.”

  “You’re pressing charges against the pastor’s wife?”

  “Damn straight. A man my age could have had a heart attack from all that rubbing. She’s dangerous.” He leaned down and picked up one of the saucers. His nostrils flared as he took a whiff. “Lordy, Lordy, I ain’t smelled a good vanilla pudding in a helluva long time.”

  “It’s a mixture of water, propylene glycol, cornstarch and magnesium silicate.”

  “That a fancy name for vanilla pudding?”

  “It’s the primary base for my new lotion.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Looks like vanilla pudding.”

  “It’s the cornstarch and the propylene glycol. They give it a full-bodied appearance.”

  He took another whiff. “Smells like vanilla pudding.”

  “It’s scented with vanilla. I added a few drops to a mixture of sandlewood and jasmine, which I then added to the odorless gel. The result is a sweet, sugary fragrance.”

  He dabbed a finger and touched it to his lips. “Tastes like vanilla pudding.”

  “Don’t—” she began, but he’d already fingered a huge dollop and plopped it into his mouth.

  “Mighty tasty, indeed.” He reached for a spoon. “’Course, it ain’t anywhere near my granny’s pudding. Lordy, but that woman could cook.”

  “It’s just for testing the scent. I haven’t converted to an all-edible base yet.”

  He spooned another bite. “She was a looker, too, back in her day.” He pointed his spoon at her. “Not an ounce of extra baggage on her hips, even after three boys. She could spit, too. That’s where I inherited my natural talent the likes of which the Waller County Spit-Off ain’t seen in a long, long time. ’Cept for my two brothers, that is. They inherited the talent, too, and carried on the winning tradition once I retired from the sport.”

  “Cheryl Louise said they beat you and took over, which
forced you into retirement.”

  “That gal ain’t playing with a full deck.” He glared before turning his attention back to the lotion sample. “Anyhow, it’s no wonder I’m talented, and as fit and trim as a man half my age. It’s just good breeding.”

  “You really shouldn’t—” she said as he spooned in another heaping mound.

  “Why, you would never have seen my granny lollygagging around with all these fancy schmancy machines.” He pointed to her microscope and the row of burners and petri dishes. “She did everything the old-fashioned way. With lots of elbow grease. She wasn’t like the women today, all spoiled and pampered.” He gestured around the kitchen again. “No wonder you cain’t shed that extra baby fat.”

  “I’m not trying to shed anything anymore. I’m all about preventative maintenance.”

  “You could take a lesson from a real prime specimen of a ladies’ man like myself. Lose the fancy dress and get yourself some work pants and a nice, comfortable shirt. That way you can move around, get a little exercise, work up a sweat.”

  “I’m not trying to sweat. This is a project for work. Speaking of which, you really shouldn’t eat that.” The danger of consumption had become apparent when Duane had mistaken one of her gelatinous bases for raspberry yogurt. Another reason for the no-food rule now in place in her laboratory. According to Duane, the gel had worked like a triple dose of fiber. “This stuff is not ready for consumption.”

  “That’s what you need, gal,” he went on as if he hadn’t heard her warning. “A little sweating and you’ll work off all your extra weight in no time.”

  Madeline drew in a deep breath and did her best to keep from reaching up and grabbing Uncle Spur by his white pearl buttons.

  “And those shoes,” he went on in between mouthfuls. “Ain’t a woman alive could cross a pasture wearing those things. It’s no wonder the weight’s just sitting there.”

  She smiled and picked up another saucer. “Here, try this one. It’s plum.”

  “Mighty obliged, gal.” He grabbed the other saucer and headed up to his room. “If the pastor calls, tell him I ain’t here. He’s been hounding me ever since he found out his ma was in the pokey. And if the sheriff calls, tell him I’ll be in first thing tomorrow to finish the rest of that dadblamed paperwork. A man can only write so fast…” His words faded along with the steady thud of his boots.

  Madeline glanced at the clock again and bypassed the three remaining saucers in favor of the Oreos sitting on the kitchen counter.

  She took a bite of cookie number six and ignored the urge to cry. She wasn’t getting all teary eyed over an insensitive jerk who didn’t know a good deal when it stared him straight in the eye. So what if Austin Jericho didn’t want to have sex with her? It wasn’t like he was the sex guru, or anything.

  Okay, so in Cadillac he was definitely considered a guru, but in the rest of the world?

  Her mind rushed back to their kiss and her lips tingled. Okay, so he might even qualify as a world-class guru. But that was still no reason to cry.

  Now, a bunion and pinched toes stuffed into shoes that could double as torture devices…there was a reason to shed a few tears.

  Another cookie and she wobbled upstairs. A few minutes later, she slid off her slut shoes and shoved her feet into a pair of furry bunny slippers. Fuzzy warmth welcomed her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Being seductive eye candy required a high tolerance for pain.

  She felt her eyes burn and reached for another Oreo. Chocolate ecstasy exploded in her mouth, sending a flood of comfort through her body. She blinked and reached for the straps on the dress. The doorbell shrieked from downstairs and her hands paused.

  Her heart jumped excitedly for a few frantic moments before reality settled in. No doubt it was the sheriff wanting more information on the pastor’s mother. Or worse, maybe it was the pastor come to have it out with the “prime specimen” of eighty-something man that snored loudly from the room down the hall.

  The snoring didn’t even pause when the doorbell screamed again. Madeline shook her head and started downstairs, her heart pounding.

  Pounding? She had to get a grip. Hadn’t she learned her lesson all those years ago? It had been over an hour. It couldn’t be him.

  While she’d changed in the past twelve years—and she was wearing the dress to prove it—he was still the same guy he’d been back in high school. He was hot and handsome and completely uninterested in Maddie Hale.

  And he was standing at her front door.

  7

  SHE WAS PRACTICALLY NAKED.

  The thought registered in Austin’s brain the moment Maddie opened the door.

  The dress was short and tight, cut down to there and up to here. Red spandex hugged her voluptuous curves and left little to his already overactive imagination. And where there wasn’t red, there was skin.

  His gaze shifted up before sweeping back down. At least, he tried for a clean sweep, but his attention seemed hell-bent on pausing at several interesting spots along the way.

  The smooth column of her throat. The frantic beat of her pulse. The bare curve of her shoulder. The deep swell of her breasts. The press of her ripe nipples beneath the thin material of her dress. The flare of her hips. The long, bare legs that seemed to go on endlessly.

  Practically naked, but not completely. All the major parts were covered. It wasn’t as if she’d opened the door wearing nothing but a ride-me-cowboy smile.

  “You’re here,” she blurted as if the fact surprised her. Her full breasts heaved and the dress tugged and his heart stalled. “I mean…” She licked her lips as if fighting for her composure, then pinned him with a stern expression. “You’re late.”

  “Another calf got caught in the west fence.”

  Her sternness faded into compassion. “I hope it’s okay.”

  “She’s fine. A little scratched up, but nothing some liniment couldn’t fix.” That and an extra hundred acres.

  He focused on the thought and forced his attention away from her chest. His gaze lifted and collided with hers, and damned if the lush green of her eyes didn’t take his breath away almost as much as the sight of her voluptuous body in the skintight dress.

  Almost.

  But Austin was a bad boy from way back. Not the sort of man to be undone by a pair of green eyes, even if they did remind him of a soft bed of freshly watered grass.

  “I’m not too late, am I?” He eyed her again. “You’re not heading out?”

  “Out?”

  “On a date.” He frowned, the notion bothering him a hell of a lot more than it should have considering he had no serious intentions where Maddie was concerned. “You look like you’re on your way to meet someone.”

  “I do?” She glanced down. “You mean this old thing?” She shook her head. “I always dress like this when I’m working.”

  “It’s a little revealing for your line of work.”

  “Actually, it’s perfect. Being minimally dressed tends to keep my senses on alert, and what I do is all about the five senses.”

  He gave her a suspicious look. “It’s not going to work. I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Actually, sleeping isn’t what I had in mind.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “If you mean sex, just say sex.”

  “Okay, I’m not having sex with you. No way. No how. It’s not happening. You’re not my type.”

  “If that’s true, then it shouldn’t matter what I’m wearing.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Then why are you so worried about it?”

  “I’m not.” He shrugged. “I hate red is all. It’s my least favorite color and I wouldn’t want to be distracted by my least favorite color when you probably need all of my attention for this sampling thing. So are we going to do this or not?”

  “Come on in while I head out to the kitchen and get another batch of samples ready.”

  “What happened to the first ones?”

  “U
ncle Spur ate them. Well, only two of them. It won’t take long to whip up another batch of each.” She shifted again, her long fingers playing at the doorknob as if she weren’t standing there tempting him in a sexy little red number and a pair of white bunny slippers….

  His gaze dropped and, sure enough, her feet sported pink bunny ears, a pink nose and long black whiskers.

  “Nice shoes.”

  “What?” Then she looked down at her feet and her cheeks fired a bright red.

  “Do those stimulate the five senses?”

  “Yes. No. Sort of.” She ditched the shoes behind the door, revealing delicate feet and red-tipped toes. “They, um, relax me.”

  “Meaning you’re nervous?”

  “Why would I be nervous?”

  “Because I’m here and you want to have sex with me.” Funny how the word came easier when he took the offensive.

  “Sex does not make me nervous.”

  “But I do.”

  “Once upon a time, maybe. But not anymore.” He had the feeling she said the words more for her own reassurance than his. “I’m just tense because of work. I’ve got a lot riding on this new product.”

  “Then let’s get to it.” He referred to the testing, but damned if the word it didn’t bring to mind a completely different image.

  One of Madeline all soft and sweet with her sexy red dress bunched around her waist. Madeline reaching up, sliding her arms around his neck, her silky thighs parting, welcoming him inside her wet warmth for a hard, deep stroke.

  His eyes locked with hers and it was as if she read his mind. Her eyes rounded and he glimpsed the old Maddie. Even more, he heard her in the sudden tremble of her voice.

  “After you.” She pulled open the door and motioned him inside. With a quick “Be right back,” she disappeared into a doorway leading from the foyer.

  He walked into the small living room, his boots slapping the hardwood floor. He stared at the wall of photographs, and his eye caught on a large framed portrait of two small girls, one holding a beat-up brown teddy bear. In the photo, Cheryl Louise had the same white-blond hair she still had. Her older sister Sharon was a direct contrast, with her thick, dark hair and even darker eyes.