by Katee Robert
“What can I say, I’m a traditionalist.”
She snorted. “I doubt it.”
She was really cute in a girl-next-door way. The kind of woman a man settled down and had a boatload of kids with. The kind of woman he normally avoided like the plague—he wasn’t the type to leave a trail of broken hearts behind him, and women like this didn’t have sex without complications. Brock wasn’t a settling-down type. Maybe in the future, but right now it wasn’t in the cards. He had too much to accomplish before he went down that road.
Still, he gave her his most charming smile. It would be smarter to focus on Christine than to spend his time in this borderline obsession with a certain high-strung brunette. “Maybe you should give me a chance to prove it.”
Christine’s eyes went wide and a laugh erupted from her lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Regan was right. You really are incorrigible.”
He sighed. “You Tri Delts are bad for a man’s ego.”
“Sorry.” She glanced sideways, her mouth tightening at whatever it was she saw. Before he could follow her gaze, she’d turned those blue eyes back on him. “If it helps, you’re really good-looking. But I’ll bet you’ve had plenty of women tell you that, haven’t you?”
“A gentleman never tells.” A flash of movement caught his attention. Regan stood next to Kady, glaring daggers. She snatched a piece of paper out of her friend’s hands, and she stalked over to him. It wasn’t every day he saw a woman who walked in six-inch heels like they were flats, but Regan made it look effortless.
And he really needed to stop obsessing over her fucking shoes.
She shoved a paper at his chest. “Howdy, partner.” Then she turned a genuinely sweet smile at Christine. “Sorry, honey, but I’m doing you a favor. You don’t want to spend any more time with this asshat than strictly necessary.”
Christine’s gaze jumped between them and then away. “Better than the alternative,” she muttered. With a pained sigh, she walked away, leaving him to Regan’s tender mercies.
She barely waited for her friend to get out of earshot before she spun on him. “You stay away from her.”
“Why? I think she’s a sweetheart.”
She glared. “She’s a nice girl, and you’d eat her alive. Then I’d take a truly scary amount of pleasure in killing you and throwing your body in a Dumpster.”
Even though it was aimed at him, her protectiveness of her friend chipped away at some of the anger he felt over how last night had ended. Some of it. “Aw, you’re adorable. I reckon you’ve never seen woods before right now.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Scarlett, please. I was a Girl Scout.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “And pray tell, why did you drop out?”
“Do you know what’s in the woods? Bugs. Things that make freaky noises. Squirrels who are only too happy to go for your throat.” She shuddered. “I’m more cut out for the concrete jungle.” Then she seemed to realize they were having an actual conversation without animosity, because her eyes narrowed. “But that changes nothing. Stay away from Christine. She’s not like us. You’d hurt her.”
The unspoken comment being that he couldn’t hurt Regan. Since he didn’t want to hurt her, that was great news. Or it would be if it didn’t signify the fact that she’d never care enough about him for him to be able to hurt her. He shouldn’t care. She was just some chick at one of his friends’ weddings.
Damn it, he did care.
“You should let me take you out sometime.” The words were out before he realized he was going to say it.
The shocked look on her face was almost funny. Almost. “Hitting the moonshine a little early today, don’t you think?”
“Enough with the country boy references.” He’d bet she’d never touched moonshine.
“I just call it like I see it.” She crossed her arms under her chest, and he did his damnedest not to stare at her breasts. “Look, I had a great time last night and all, but this just isn’t going to work out like you want it to.”
She thought she had him all figured out. It shouldn’t surprise him. Everyone else did, too. “Why not, Regan? How the hell do you know what I want from this? I don’t remember you sticking around long enough to talk last night. ”
“There is no ‘this.’” She motioned between them. “You aren’t the kind of guy who settles down. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m not looking to waste my time. To be frank, Logan is more my speed.”
He stared. Was she for real? “Logan.”
“Yeah. He’s cultured, has excellent taste, and owns his own business. He’s not the type to flit from woman to woman.”
“Have you exchanged more than two words with the guy?” Brock had. When they’d all gone out for drinks the first night here, he’d had a chance to talk to Logan for a little while. He was a decent guy. A little work-obsessed for Brock’s taste—and a whole lot too much like his brother Caine.
Right now he kind of wished Logan was an ass so he could hate the man.
She shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve talked.”
Of course they had. How could Logan not lose his head over Regan? She was all glitter and fireworks that drew the gaze—though he’d bet she hadn’t shown Logan her claws.
She glanced sideways and her eyes widened. “Quick, say something funny.”
The change in subject almost gave him whiplash. “What?”
Regan gritted her teeth. “A joke. Tell a joke, or something.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Good Lord, you’re hopeless.” She leaned in, so close he got a whiff of her perfume, and laid her hand on his arm. Then she threw her head back and let loose the most carefree and intoxicating laugh he’d ever heard in his life. It hit him like a lightning bolt, a shock that he wasn’t prepared for.
The shock turned sour as soon as he realized what she’d caught sight of. A man had just walked past their group, shooting an interested look in her direction. Brock shook his head, realizing she’d mistaken the stranger for Logan. “Stand down, Mrs. McCade. That is not the man you’re looking for.”
“Shit.” Her smile looked a little strained around the edges. “Nice Star Wars reference, even if you butchered the delivery.”
He never would have pegged her for a Star Wars fan, but he refused to pursue that curiosity because there were bigger issues at hand. “You were going to use me to get his attention.”
“Was I?”
Yes, damn it. That’s exactly what she’d been doing. “What’s the pretty boy have that I don’t?”
“Don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?” She waved her hand at his face. “And, like I said before, he’s charming, successful, and has a fantastic career.”
“Darlin’, I’m VP of McNeill Enterprises.”
She laughed. “Oh please. You’re a figurehead. What kind of skill set do you bring to the table? The ability to charm women out of their panties?”
He didn’t let himself react, but only because he’d heard the same argument more times than he wanted to count. Why can’t you just settle down like Caine? Caine never would have let that client walk away. Caine brings more to this company than you ever will. Caine is the future.
It made it really hard for him not to hate his brother when he was constantly being measured against him—and coming up short. “I have skills.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m equally sure that I wouldn’t hire you.”
Brock looked around, taking in the fact that they were now alone. “That’s a damn shame, because it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
Chapter Five
Regan fought back a curse. She’d planned on making her way over to Logan once she’d gotten his attention by showing him just how good a time she was having with Brock. It was a good plan…but Logan was apparently a no-show, and she hadn’t been in the right mind since she’d seen Brock aiming that goddamn p
anty-dropper smile of his at Christine. Her friend was smart and normally she’d have no trouble telling him where to stuff it, but with all the new changes in her life, Regan was afraid she was too vulnerable to handle a man like Brock.
That was the only reason she’d practically run over there. Because she was a good friend. Not because the thought of Brock and Christine sneaking off together made her physically sick to her stomach.
Now she was stuck with him. Shit.
She glanced over the list. Where the hell had Kady come up with this crap? A freaking feather? With a few exceptions—a newspaper—all of it required her to go into the forest surrounding Beaver Creek Resort. “On second thought, I’m not that interested in seeing whatever Kady came up with for a prize. You go on ahead and try your luck.”
“Aw, come on. I wouldn’t expect you to back off so easily.”
“I don’t back down, and I don’t lose when I set my mind on something.” But there was nothing wrong with a tactful retreat.
“Obviously you don’t want Logan as much as you think if you’re already giving up. In case you didn’t know, that guy lives for this nature shit. He’s probably already out here gathering ancient Indian arrowheads and fossils and fuck-all if I know.”
Giving up. Two dirty words if she ever heard them. She didn’t give up. Never had. No, Regan analyzed the problem, and then proceeded to find her way over, under, around, or—sometimes—through it.
She’d let her reluctance to spend any more time than necessary with Brock cloud her judgment. He was right—if she wanted a chance at Logan, she was going to have to work a little harder. Which meant going into that treed hellhole.
Maybe she should have packed some bug spray.
“Fine. Let’s go. But keep your goddamn hands to yourself.”
“Me?” He grabbed the paper. “I’m a gentleman. You’re the one who practically threw a bag over my head and dragged me off to be your love slave.”
“It has nothing to do with love.” And now she couldn’t get the image of his sliding in and out of her as she rode him out of her mind. She gritted her teeth. Fucking fabulous.
“My mistake.” He made a showy gesture, waving her toward the path. “Ladies first—even ones with dubious virtue.”
“Dubious. You’ve been using that Word of the Day app again.” She strode into the trees, taking half a second to wish she’d worn more practical shoes. The problem was she didn’t own any practical shoes aside from her gym shoes. And she wouldn’t be caught dead in them outside of a treadmill. “Too much more of that and someone who didn’t know better might think you actually have an IQ to brag about.”
“Careful—I might think you like me if you keep up that kind of talk.”
“God forbid.” It was darker beneath the trees, the tall trunks cutting off the sun and creating shadows. Something moved off to her right and she jumped. “What the hell was that?”
Brock followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. The rabid tree squirrel. Very dangerous.” He turned back with a grin that made her stomach flip-flop. “Don’t worry—I’ll protect you.”
When had anyone ever offered her something like that, even jokingly?
She knew the answer without even thinking about it. Never. She was Regan, independent lover, corporate warrior, driven career woman. People looked to her for answers and to take care of their needs. They never offered to return the favor.
He’s making fun of you, you idiot. Get your shit together. She swallowed down the unfamiliar feeling in her throat and forced a cocky smile. “Squirrel vanquisher. I’d be sure to add that to your résumé.”
Satisfied she had the last laugh, she turned and started walking again. A feather. How freaking hard was it to find a feather in the forest? Shouldn’t there be birds flapping around and being annoying? She didn’t see a single sign of one.
“Don’t forget to mention my orgasm-bringing skills.” His voice came from entirely too close behind her. “I mean, hell, I didn’t even touch you and you came within seconds. Imagine what I could do if I actually got my mouth on you.”
She jumped and then cursed herself for showing even that much response. Making sure her smile was in place, she turned—and jumped again. He stood not a foot from her, towering over her despite her six-inch heels. This close, his magnetism was an almost-physical thing. She had to actively concentrate on not leaning into him.
Frankly, it pissed her off.
So she cocked her hip out and propped her hand on it. “I think your memory is faulty. If you think back really hard, it’ll become clear that I brought about my own orgasms. You just happened to be there.”
If she expected him to jerk back or look horrified or hurt, she was sadly mistaken. His grin never wavered. “Is that so?”
God, this man’s voice should be illegal. When he looked at her like that, it made it really hard to remember why touching him was a terrible idea. She lifted her chin. “Yep.”
“It’s adorable the way you have to work yourself into a tizzy to keep from kissing me.”
“A tizzy?”
“Mm-hmm.” Had he moved closer? She wasn’t sure. But then his grin widened and she lost her thought. Goddamn laugh lines. “An adorable tizzy. All quick talking and the like, as if it really means anything.”
“It does.” She licked her lips. “It means I’m not even remotely interested in you.”
“Not even a little bit, huh?” His hands dropped to her waist, and even though she knew she should shove him off, she couldn’t help following his gentle nudging forward. Brock’s gaze fastened on her mouth. “I’m about to make a liar out of you.”
“Wha—”
He took her mouth like he was sure of his welcome, like he knew it was exactly what she wanted. And it was better than she could have imagined. Brock’s tongue dipped between her lips to caress hers, the taste of him intoxicating. She slipped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his too-long hair. The man was temptation personified. It just wasn’t fair.
She moaned as he moved over her jaw and down her throat, his whiskers rasping against her skin. He nipped the spot where her neck met her shoulder and then continued down. When she realized his intention she arched her back, trying to give him better access. God help her, but this was what she’d wanted from the moment she’d set eyes on him earlier, the swagger in his stride speaking of the breathtakingly sexy things they’d done last night.
“Jump.”
His meaning became clear when he grabbed her ass and slid his hands down the back of her thighs. Regan hopped and wrapped her legs around his waist, the move making her dress ride up to indecent levels. Anyone who walked up this path would get the show of their lives.
She shook her head, trying to think past the lust muddling her brain. “Someone could see…”
He nodded and stepped off the path, winding through the trees until they couldn’t see it anymore. She had a panicked realization that she was in the freaking forest. Then he kissed her again, and Regan decided Brock would just have to live up to his squirrel-vanquishing abilities because she wasn’t sure she was capable of walking away from him right now.
While she was freaking out about being surrounded by nature, he’d taken advantage of her distraction to slip her dress strap off her shoulder. One good tug and he freed her breast. “Jesus, woman. I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”
“I—” She gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth. “Don’t stop doing that.”
He cupped her ass, shifting her until the hard ridge of him pressed right where she needed it. Using little motions, he made her ride him—something she was only too happy to help with. Noises came out of her mouth that didn’t sound remotely human, but she couldn’t help it, not when the pressure built inside her, pushed ever higher by the slide of her silk panties against his slacks and his mouth on her nipple.
“More. Oh my God, more.”
He released her breast and reclaimed her mouth as he circled his hips, the new sensation send
ing her flying over the edge. She clung to him as she came, shudders racking her body that he seemed to take pleasure in drawing out. Only when he’d wrung every bit from her body did he help her stand and step back.
Regan stared at him, using every bit of strength she had not to let her shaking legs collapse. He was breathing just as hard as she was, and there was no mistaking the length of his cock making a rather impressive imprint on his slacks.
While she was staring at his hips, he caught her chin in unyielding fingers and forced her to meet his eyes. “Let’s not tell lies between friends. You just came so fucking hard, you can barely stand right now. That wasn’t you using my body—that was me making you lose your damn mind.”
“I—”
But he continued right over her. “So if I’m such a fuckup, what does that make you—the woman who can’t keep her hands off me?”
Before she could come up with an answer, he turned and strode away, leaving her alone, surrounded by trees. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to dredge up some anger. It was slow in coming, battling through the desire still sparking along her skin. So much for squirrel vanquisher. He’d lured her out here, made her orgasm, and left her to whatever bloodthirsty creature found her first.
“Lured? Really?” Okay, so that wasn’t strictly accurate. It was hard to lure someone anywhere when they’re wrapped around you like a deranged spider monkey.
She gave herself a shake. This wasn’t about him abandoning her to die. No, this was about him throwing down a gauntlet. He thought he could put her in her place? Fat chance.
She had bigger fish to fry.
But if it made Brock feel better to think he’d one-upped her this time, he could just go on thinking that. And she’d do her damnedest not to dwell on the fact that he’d just given her one of the best orgasms of her life.
She straightened her dress and turned a slow circle. He’d only taken like five steps to get back here. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out which way he’d gone. Regan turned around again. Or it wouldn’t be hard if she were an expert tracker-slash-zombie-killer like Daryl from The Walking Dead.
