“I’d say you’re measuring up just fine.”
“I’m holding my own,” he said after a long moment, as if hearing her say the words reaffirmed something deep inside. “So are you. You’re growing up, Jenna Tucker.”
“Because I’m not running around with every man that smiles my way?”
“Because you’re reaching for something more.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. The closer I get, the farther away that horse farm feels. And even if I do get it up and running, I’m not so sure I’ll have enough business to stay in business.”
“So?”
“So it all seems so futile sometimes.”
“Maybe, but you reach for it anyway. You can’t let your fears stop you. When I first ran for sheriff, the odds were not in my favor. But I did it anyway and look at me now, about to go for a third term.”
“You don’t sound all that excited.” Something flashed in his gaze and she knew she’d touched on a sensitive subject. His look shuttered and she grasped for something to keep him talking, because as much as she wanted to get busy with Hunter DeMassi, she suddenly liked talking to him just as much. “How long has it been since you’ve ridden a bronc?”
“Over ten years.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
“Miss the aching shoulders and the cracked ribs?” He shook his head. “Picking yourself up after a hard throw is nothing but agony.”
“So why did you do it in the first place?”
“Because the first few seconds were enough of a rush that it made the hurt worth it.”
“And do you get the same rush from being sheriff?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes when I’m working a tough case. But not that many tough cases cross my desk in a small town like Rebel. For the most part, it’s pretty calm. Tame.”
Exactly what she wanted for herself. Or so she thought.
But seeing the flash of longing in his gaze, for another time and another place, another rush of excitement made her think that maybe, just maybe, walking the straight and narrow wasn’t all she’d built it up to be.
“Tame is good,” she heard herself say, but she no more believed it than he did at that moment.
There was just something almost sad about the look in his gaze and before she could stop herself, she slid off the tailgate and pulled him to his feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to liven things up.”
“I thought you said tame was good.”
“I lied.” Before he could say a word, she stood directly in front of him and nudged his knees apart.
Anticipation rippled through her as she leaned up on her tiptoes and leaned in close. His warm breath tickled her bottom lip and her mouth opened.
“Are you going to kiss me again?”
“Only if you don’t start kissing me first,” she murmured a split second before her mouth touched his.
The kiss was soft and sweet at first, but then he slid off the tailgate in front of her, pulled her close, and suddenly it was raging hotter than a forest fire.
He held her close and explored her mouth with his own, touching and tasting and taking her breath away until she clung to him for a long moment. And then he lifted her, sitting her on the tailgate and stepping between her legs to get closer for those next few breath-stealing moments.
The cold metal of the SUV bed met her back when he urged her back down, leaning over her, their lips still pressed together, tongues still tangled.
He pulled back, leaving her panting and staring up at him as he reached for the hem of her dress. He pushed it up her thigh, his gaze locked with hers.
“I guess we’re getting to the good stuff now,” she murmured even though the past few minutes talking had been pretty nice, too.
“Oh, it’s going to get good, all right.” He continued pushing her dress up her leg, his fingers grazing her supersensitive skin. “Great, in fact.”
The sultry promise chased the oxygen from her lungs as he urged her legs apart and wedged himself between her knees. His fingertips swept from her calves, up the outside of her knees until his hands came to rest on her thighs.
He touched his mouth to the inside of her thigh just a few inches shy of her panties. He nibbled and licked and worked his way slowly toward the heart of her. She found herself opening her legs even wider, begging him closer, eager for the bliss he’d shown her that night on the porch swing.
But this seemed different somehow. More intimate.
She wasn’t sure if it was because they’d talked for those few minutes, but she felt closer to him somehow.
Connected.
He trailed his tongue over the silk covering her wet heat and pushed the material into her slit until her flesh plumped on either side. She was so wet and he seemed to relish the discovery, tasting her sweetness as if she were a fine wine. He licked and nibbled at her until her entire body wound so tight she thought she would shatter at any moment.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Not until she felt him flush against her body with no barriers between them. No clothing. No fear. No secrets.
Crazy.
There were plenty of secrets still left between them. Plenty of walls firmly in place.
She held tight to the thought and focused on the large hands gripping her panties.
She lifted her hips to accommodate him. The satin material slithered down her legs and landed on the trunk bed next to her.
He caught her thighs and pulled her toward the end of the tailgate, until her bottom was just shy of the edge. Grabbing her ankles, he urged her knees over his shoulders.
He slid his large hands beneath her buttocks and tilted her just enough. Dipping his head, he flicked his tongue along the seam between her slick folds in a long, slow lick that sent a moan bursting from her lips.
His tongue parted her and he lapped at her sensitive clit. He tasted and savored, his tongue stroking, plunging, driving her mindless until she knew she couldn’t hold out any longer. Her cry shattered the darkness around them, mingling with the sounds that drifted from the riverbank below.
* * *
Her heart beat a frantic pace for the next few moments as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
She’d had the mother of all orgasms. An orgasm worthy of the most erotic dream.
But as satisfied as she felt, it still wasn’t enough.
She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. A fierce look gleamed in his bright blue eyes, one that said he never meant to let her go, and a spurt of warmth went through her.
Followed by a rush of panic because there was no truth to any of it. The heat of the moment. The frenzied thoughts sparked by a good orgasm. This wasn’t the beginning of anything permanent. It was all purely temporary. A fleeting moment in her life that she would remember fondly on all the lonely nights to follow.
That’s why she’d agreed to this in the first place. A few days of lust and then they both walked away. She kept walking the straight and narrow, and so did he.
My turn.
That’s what she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t. While she’d agreed to indulge her lust for him, she had no intention of unleashing the bad girl that she’d locked down deep. Giving in to him was one thing, but turning the tables and taking charge?
Not happening.
Not yet.
The notion whispered through her and she stiffened.
“Stand up,” he murmured, killing the push/pull of emotion inside of her and she quickly obliged.
She slid to her feet to stand in front of him. Her dress fell back down her thighs, covering the fact that her panties still hung on the edge of his tailgate.
A fact he was all too aware of if the tense set to his jaw was any indication.
He stood in front of her, his eyes gleaming in the growing shadows that surrounded them. His muscles bunched beneath his T-shirt. Taut lines carved his face, making him seem harsh, fierce, hu
ngry.
She knew the feeling.
She swallowed against the sudden hollowness in her throat and fought to keep from reaching for the left strap of her sundress. But then he murmured “Undress,” and she quickly obliged.
She slid one strap free, then the next, until the soft cotton material slid down her chest, her waist, her thighs, to pool at her feet. She reached for her bra next, her fingers going to the front clasp.
A quick flick and the cups fell away.
His gaze darkened and his nostrils flared, as if he couldn’t get enough oxygen.
Her lips parted as she tried to drag some much-needed air into her own lungs. Her breasts heaved and his eyes shimmered.
* * *
“Damn, but you’re something else, Jenna.” The words were reverent and for a brief moment, she forgot all about the future and the past—everything save this moment and the urges building inside of her.
“I want to see you,” she murmured.
“Soon, but you’re still not done yet.” His deep voice slithered into her ears and amped up her heartbeat.
“I don’t have any clothes left.”
“I do. Take them off.”
She stepped forward to grasp the edges of his shirt. Flesh grazed flesh as she obliged him, pushing the material over his shoulders, down his arms, until it fell away and joined her discarded clothes. A brief hesitation and she reached for the waistband of his jeans.
A groan rumbled from his throat as her fingertips trailed over the denim-covered bulge. She paused, playing over and over the rock-hard erection until she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She wanted to feel the real thing in her hands. Working the zipper down, she tugged and pulled until the teeth finally parted. The jeans sagged on his hips. His cock sprang hot and pulsing into her hands.
She traced the ripe purple head before sliding her hand down his length, stroking, exploring. His dark flesh throbbed against her palm and her own body shuddered in response. She licked her lips and fought the urge to drop to her knees and taste him.
Luckily, he wasn’t nearly as restrained.
He drew her to him and kissed her roughly, his tongue delving deep over and over until the ground seemed to tilt. And then he swept her up, laid her on the tailgate, spread her legs and sank hilt-deep inside.
CHAPTER 26
She still had her panties.
Jenna held tight to the knowledge as she slipped inside her house later that night. As wild and out of control as she’d been tonight, she’d had the good sense to grab her undies off his tailgate and stuff them into her purse. The steady hum of a motor out front reminded her that Hunter still hadn’t pulled away yet and for a split second, she forgot her good fortune and thought about hauling open the door and doing a striptease for him in the blaze of headlights.
Despite the fact that she had to crawl out of bed before the crack of dawn in order to make it out to the Holiday Hills Ranch to take a look at their new breeding stock of goats the next morning.
The urge gripped her and her hands trembled, but then Jez scrambled from the kitchen. Her claws slid across the hardwood floor in a frantic scrape as she rushed for the door.
Jenna fought her lust and scooped up the white ball of fluff. The dog licked at her frantically for a few seconds before her high-pitched barks filled the air. Jenna set her on the floor and she danced in place for a few seconds before leading the way to the kitchen and the treat jar.
She gathered her control, forced herself away from the front door, and followed Jez into the kitchen. She unearthed the dog’s favorite biscuits from the cabinet and fed one to the frantic animal.
The dog wolfed down the goodie and barked and danced for another.
“One a day. You know the rule.”
Rules.
That’s what her life was all about now. About respecting boundaries and walking the straight and narrow and playing it safe even if she had backslid for those few moments on the swing. And at the honky-tonk. And tonight overlooking the lake.
But she was home now.
Back to reality.
She walked into her bedroom and sank down on the bed. Eyeing the stack of letters, she thought about picking them up and continuing on with the story. Clara had already left for Chicago. The baby was due any day and she was planning how she was going to escape after the birth and get back to Texas, to her one true love, with their baby in tow.
Dearest P.J. was waiting and Clara was determined.
Even so, she’d obviously failed.
Clara was most certainly here in Rebel, so she’d made it back. She’d obviously been single upon her return because she’d gone on to marry a DeMassi and give birth to his son. A son who’d gone on to marry and have his own sons, one of which was Hunter’s father.
There’d never been any whisperings of a scandal, no illegitimate child haunting Clara and her family. Jenna knew that firsthand because she’d inadvertently milked Miss Ann at the clinic for information.
“Can you believe Clara Bell Sawyer is going to be ninety-three? I can’t imagine living that long,” she’d said earlier that afternoon while handing over a stack of charts to be filed.
“Well the Lord certainly blesses those who do his work,” Miss Ann had said, taking the files and handing Jenna her next chart—a python by the name of Monty who had stopped eating his usual diet of mice after downing a plastic fern from his aquarium. He was stopped up and it was Jenna’s job to act as the plunger. “Clara Bell has always been a treasure to this town. A shining example of a fine woman. She married well and had a fine family. Our very own sheriff is proof of that, although I hear tell he was certainly a wild one back in the day. Might have thrown it all away on that rodeo nonsense if it hadn’t been for Clara’s guidance. She kept him on the up and up and now he’s carrying on the family tradition and doing the Sawyers proud.”
Even if his own parents didn’t realize it.
She remembered Hunter’s earlier comments about his brother and his folks. They never called.
Or cared.
She couldn’t imagine abandoning her own child.
Any more than Clara could imagine giving hers up for adoption.
But she’d obviously done it.
The notion stirred a rush of sadness and Jenna bypassed the letters and killed the light. The truth would come soon enough, just as tomorrow would dawn and she would be back to work, walking the straight and narrow and trying not to think about Hunter and the next time she would see him.
For now, she wanted to hold the moment. The satisfaction. The hope.
Just for a little while longer.
* * *
Hunter watched the bedroom window go dark before he shoved the truck into Reverse and pulled out of Jenna’s drive all the while fighting the urge to haul ass up her front steps, pull her out onto the porch, and take her up against the front of the house. Her back flat against the peeling wood. His thigh pressing between her legs. His hands pulling at her clothes. Her hands clutching his back. His cock pushing deep into her wet heat …
He stiffened against the urges and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
Drive, a voice screamed. Now. Before you lose the head on your shoulders and start thinking with the one between your legs.
Not because he cared if someone happened along and saw them together.
This wasn’t about Jenna and her worry that someone might see them together and get the wrong idea.
He was worried about his own sense of self-preservation. She made him want to do things that no fine, upstanding man should want to do. She brought out the bad ass in him that he’d fought so long to deny.
Too long.
He wasn’t going back to the man he’d once been. Not for Jenna or anyone else.
He’d made a life for himself. One built on respect and admiration and acceptance—all the things he’d never had growing up.
Things he’d never deserved.
Until now.
He was the sheriff, f
or Christ’s sake. He had a career. A flawless reputation. He certainly wasn’t giving it all up for a good lay.
Even a phenomenal one.
Jenna Tucker was just a temporary fall from grace. A rush of excitement to tide him over during all the long, boring nights to come.
He certainly wasn’t falling for her.
Not no, but hell no.
CHAPTER 27
“… go for bachelor number one, I tell ya. Number one!”
Kim Bowman heard the familiar voice drifting from her apartment the minute she reached the second-floor landing. Anyone else who lived alone might have reached for their cell and dialed 911 to report an intruder. But Kim wasn’t just the youngest resident among the over-sixty set that inhabited the Rodeo Street apartment complex, the first of its kind in small-town Rebel, Texas. With two stories, a pool, and a hot tub, it was the latest in well-developed living. The only thing in town that came even close was the senior center. But the pool was therapeutic and the hot tub strictly for arthritic patients, so the Rodeo Street complex won hands down when it came to luxury and had, in fact, become the hot spot for those aging seniors who weren’t ready for twenty-four-hour care and supervision.
Which meant she was the only one on the second floor with cable TV because most of her neighbors either a) couldn’t afford it, or b) thought it was the work of communist Hollywood trying to spread their propaganda and take over the world.
While Kim subscribed primarily for Animal Planet, she also received everything from the Golf Channel to the twenty-four-hour Game Show Network—a favorite of her next-door neighbor and resident handyman, Elijah Lucretious Camper.
“Hi, Mr. Camper,” she said as she pushed open the door to find the seventysomething man parked on one end of her beige sofa. A rerun of The Dating Game blazed on her TV. A half-empty bowl of granola sat on her coffee table next to a large wrench and her remote control.
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