by Bonnie Vanak
She showered and shaved her legs, and after drying off, realized she missed a spot.
Sitting on the lip of the bathtub in her slip and plain cotton panties, she propped one foot up on the closed toilet lid and began lathering. Shelby scraped the razor over her calf, muttering an oath. I’m not a Playboy bunny. For the lousy tips I get at the restaurant, you’d think that I was a real...
“Sexy,” a husky voice murmured.
Startled, she nearly cut herself, the razor sliding over her skin. Shelby clutched the instrument as she looked up.
Nick stood in the doorway. Her mouth watered and she forgot all about the razor and the stubble on her right leg.
Tan, wrinkled cargo pants rode low on his narrow hips. The navy-blue T-shirt stretched over his massive chest and hugged his big biceps. He looked scruffy, with a day’s stubble covering his jaw and cheeks. The scar on his left cheek made him look rugged, like a pirate ready to ravish a maiden.
And oh, boy, was she ready to be ravished. Heat curled in her belly, low and hot. How long had it been since she had sex? Seemed like forever.
Nick exuded a primitive sexuality that dovetailed into his warrior stance as he gazed down at her. Alert, ready, but the passion darkening his gaze indicated he was honed and ready for a different kind of battle.
In the bedroom.
Shelby was all too aware she had on granny panties and a satin slip with one strap spilling over her shoulder. Her hair was a tangled mess and she had been caught shaving her legs, a very private moment a guy shouldn’t see.
Yeah, real sexy. I look more like a frazzled mom than a woman ready to wrap myself around Nick and stay there until I’ve had at least five orgasms.
“Six,” she muttered. A guy like Nick who kissed as sinfully as the devil himself had to deliver at least six.
“Six what?” Nick leaned against the doorjamb.
Flustered, she waved the razor like a sword. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I can share. Need to brush my teeth.”
His gaze darkened as he studied her leg, still lathered with soap. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she stared at his bulging muscles and those big hands and imagined the very wicked things he could do to her in bed, instead of her spending long hours on her feet waiting on overweight businessmen who wanted their steak rare instead of well-done.
Nick crossed the threshold. “Need some help?”
Before she could sputter an answer, he parked his very fine ass on the tub lip next to her. Then he took the razor from her hand. Nick glanced at her, his mouth quirking in a sexy smile.
“I promise, I’ll be gentle.”
And, oh, boy, he was sliding the razor over her bare, soapy leg. So gentle and slow, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he was painting a masterpiece instead of shaving her leg. Shelby put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, feeling her heart race. The skin beneath his shirt was firm and so deliciously warm.
She imagined having all those muscles and that big body nestled close to her, sliding over her naked body as he stared down at her...
A throbbing pulsed between her legs as he leaned closer, slowly scraping the razor over the underside of her sensitive calf. He smelled delicious, like spices and woods and pure sex. His fragrance wrapped around her head, tendrils of it teasing her like a lick between her legs. A hank of his dark gold hair spilled down as he leaned forward, giving extra special attention to the sensitive spot behind her knee. As he gently slid the razor over it, Nick licked his mouth.
Shelby moaned.
Immediately he glanced up, concern clouding his gaze. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Not if you don’t count the way my body hurts right now because all I want is for you to throw out that razor and let me straddle you, pull up your shirt and I’d lick you from stem to stern, my tongue traveling over those ripples on your abdomen...
He finished and disappointment surged.
But then he dampened a washcloth and slowly stroked it over her leg, removing the excess soap. Nick paused at the edge of her panties.
His sleepy, sexy gaze met hers. “I’m getting you all wet.”
She moistened her mouth. “Yeah. I know.”
Nick traced a line along her panties. “And you have to go to work. I’ll make you late.”
“S’okay. I can be late.” She leaned forward, shivering as his finger slid up her hip and began circling. Predatory. She was his helpless captive and couldn’t move if the house was on fire or someone stood outside with a check for a million dollars and a plane ticket to Paris.
“I’d better go. Before I do something more than shave your legs.” Intent glinted in his eyes and he gave that devilish little smile that had slain all the girls in high school, making them all sigh and whimper and dream.
“Like what?” she whispered. “Indulge me.”
Nick’s hand curled around her hip. He leaned forward, taking up all the space, all the air in the tiny bathroom. Steam misted the air, and she struggled to remember to breathe. He pulled back the elastic of her panties and dipped a finger inside, stroking her skin over her hipbone in a light teasing gesture.
And then regret etched his expression. He withdrew his hand and bent down, pressing a singularly sweet kiss upon her kneecap. “Not now. When I make love to you, Shel, it’s going to be long and slow. Take my time with you.”
“I have time. I have twenty minutes.” The words fled her lips before she could snatch them back. What the hell was she thinking? She had a job. Responsibilities.
Sex with Nick Anderson wasn’t on her to-do list. No matter how much her body cried out for his expert touch.
He smiled darkly. “Twenty minutes will barely get me started. Some things are meant to be savored, not rushed, darling.”
Not fair, her aching body cried out. Leaving her like this, unfulfilled and wanting. He stood, stretching out his body, and she saw the bulge at his groin. So he wasn’t unaffected. That made her feel a little better.
Until he turned and displayed his oh-so-fine, tight butt. Nice and round and taut. Bet she could bounce a quarter off that sexy ass of his.
Nick ran a hand through his hair, making the ends tousled and sexy. She longed to do the same, caress that thick mass of hair, run her fingers down his chest, toy with his nipples and go lower...
She stood, banging her knee on the too-close toilet. Shelby bit back a juicy curse.
Nick looked concerned. “You okay, Shel?”
Nothing a night in the sack with you couldn’t cure. “Fine,” she muttered, rubbing her knee. “Mind? I have to get dressed.”
“Need a ride to the restaurant? I can take you on my bike. Unless you’ve never ridden before.”
“I know how to ride.”
He gave her a long, lingering caress with his eyes. “I bet you do, sweetheart.”
Shelby glared at him. “Nick!”
“That offer of the ride still stands.”
Oh, that wicked smile of his, the way the light danced in his dark brown eyes, lit with sensual promise. “No. Er, thanks. Ann is picking me up.” She hurried out into her bedroom, well aware of the scattered clothing on the bed, the rumpled pillows. And hell, the bed itself, looking so soft and warm and inviting...
Nick sauntered over to the door. She couldn’t help but stare. He had the arrogant, confident swagger of a military man, erect bearing, shoulders thrown back, as if he knew his way around a room.
Especially a bedroom.
He had back then, all those years ago when they were teenagers. What would have happened ten years ago if he’d done more than kiss her? How would their lives have turned out?
Could she have stopped him from leaving the Belle Creek?
From breaking her heart?
The last thought reminded her
of what Nick Anderson had done—turned and walked away. She wanted to have sex. She needed to be loved. Cherished. Held tight and given assurances that she came first. A man who would give her stability and would always be there when she needed him.
Not with Nick Anderson. Shelby knew she’d never come first in his life. She grabbed her panty hose from the bed.
“’Bye, Nick. Out,” she ordered.
“I can help you dress.” He winked at her.
“You can help by closing the door behind you. And entertaining Timmy while I’m gone. He gets dinner around six. Hot dogs are fine for tonight. Or there’s leftover tuna casserole.” Shelby sat on the bed and began to pull on the hose. “I’ll be home after midnight.”
He frowned. “I don’t like you coming home that late alone. I’ll pick you up.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll pick you up,” he repeated, that stubborn line forming a dent between his thick, dark brows.
Exasperated, she twisted around to look at him. “The restaurant doesn’t close until eleven, and I have to cash out.”
“I’ll be there waiting for you at eleven.” He folded his arms across his chest.
She knew him. He’d stand there, waiting for her to acquiesce until she caved in. Shelby sighed. Truth was, she hated that walk up the long, dark drive. Ann always dropped her off at the entrance to the ranch because she didn’t want to wake up “the king and queen,” as she called Dan and Felicity.
“All right. Eleven.”
He nodded, turned and walked out.
Shelby dressed in record time, tugging the hated white fringed skirt on and making sure her cowgirl boots were spit polished so she could avoid another lecture by her manager. Voices sounded in the living room; Nick’s was low and gravelly, and there was a higher-pitched one. Then a horsey laugh. Ann.
Giving a final pat to her cowgirl hat, she hurried out of the bedroom.
Her friend sat in the armchair by the door, ogling Nick, who sat on the sofa. Jealousy nipped her. Her best friend had big teeth, and was tall enough to play basketball, but she had a winsome way about her, with her teased blond hair, big blue eyes and friendly way of flirting and making men feel right at home, as if they were something special. Ann never wanted for a man.
Judging from the way Ann leaned close to Nick, she was working that special magic. Shelby cleared her throat. “You ready?”
Her friend gave a guilty start as Shelby walked into the room. “About time, Shelby! We’re gonna be late.”
Nick whistled. “You look cute, Shel.” His gaze dropped to her feet. “Nice boots. They do great things for your legs. Especially your right leg.”
The leg he’d personally shaved for her. His hot, hungry gaze met hers and for a wild moment she considered tossing aside the cowgirl hat, telling Ann she was sick tonight and then grabbing Nick’s hand to march him straight back to her bedroom. He kept gazing at her, intent burning in his eyes.
And then she remembered the tuna casserole that was three days old, all they could afford to eat, and the payment due on her Chevy, which needed new tires, and Timmy’s birthday. Sex with Nick Anderson was a luxury she couldn’t afford because he’d cost her more than a lost night’s pay. The price might even be her heart. There was too much between them for casual sex. What would she do when he walked out the door again, never looking back?
Shelby settled her hat more firmly upon her head. “Let’s go.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving Nick staring after her.
* * *
At the restaurant that night, business was steady, but not as busy as Saturday nights or Fridays. Her manager kept on her case, nagging her not to only wait on customers, but also clean tables, even though the busboy looked bored and kept sneaking off to text his pimple-faced girlfriend. She found the reason why when Natalie marched out from the kitchen.
Blond hair flouncing, her mascaraed eyelashes batting furiously, Chuck Beaufort’s daughter wore a cream-colored silk dress more suitable for dining with crystal goblets and heavy silverware than a greasy, steak-grilling eatery. She pursed her thin, glossy lips and headed straight for Shelby.
“You were supposed to work last night,” she accused Shelby.
“Ann took my shift.”
“Well, you didn’t clear it with me.” Natalie folded her arms and tapped a spiked high heel.
“You know Silas Anderson died. I went to his funeral,” Shelby told her, refusing to back down. “Silas was like a father to me.”
Natalie looked sly. “Like a father. Of course, because your own father was a drunk, and a mean one who could barely hold down a job. It’s a miracle you managed to graduate from high school with those genes you carry. Not like my father, who buys me anything I want. He gave me this restaurant. What did your father give you, Shelby, other than that dingy, rusted-out trailer that you called home?”
Struggling against the impulse to knock the girl flat on her face, Shelby drew herself up. “Too bad he didn’t teach you good manners. Or maybe that particular talent doesn’t exist in your gene pool.”
She turned around, her stomach churning, and ignored Natalie’s outraged sputter. Few in town dared to talk back to Miss Natalie Beaufort of the Beauforts of Nature County.
Not like Shelby, who had no family name.
My father was a drunk.
My mother was a drunk.
But I’m not my parents. Damn it, will that always taint me, like I’m carrying some sign around my neck saying Trailer Trash?
She’d struggled to hold down two jobs, attend college at night and pay her bills. Only through Silas’s kindness in giving her free room and board had she managed. Shelby would have done anything for Nick’s father to repay his generosity.
Working at this crappy restaurant had been one small way to help with the ranch’s bills. She’d have scrubbed floors in Natalie’s house if it meant repaying Silas for what he’d done.
Because Nick’s father hadn’t merely given her a home. He handed back her self-worth and self-respect.
Both were traits that could be lost each time Nick swaggered near, his smooth gait hinting he could give a woman a great time in bed, his sexy mouth pursed in a cocky grin and that bad-boy attitude.
Was it in her DNA to be attracted to bad boys? Nick was a hometown hero, but a bad guy at heart. His rugged edges and rough side had only become more sharply honed with his military experience.
So focused were her thoughts on Nick that she nearly collided with Ann, who was coming out of the kitchen with a chef’s salad.
“Watch it, Shelby!” Ann laughed. “You woolgathering again?”
She shook her head. “Had a little encounter of the Nastyville kind with our queen bee of the kitchen.”
“What she say to you?” her friend demanded. “Want me to twist her panties in a knot?”
Shelby smiled. “She’s just being Natalie. Can’t help her nature. Like a rattler can’t help its nature.”
“I’d trust a snake before that one.” Ann lowered her voice. “She said she was at your place earlier today, checking out how well her horse is doing. Claimed she smelled something fishy at the ranch. Wanted to make sure you weren’t charging her for full board and giving her precious mare rough board. If I were you, I’d slip some horse apples into the back of her trunk, give her a real reason to smell something bad.”
Her friend winked, then headed into the dining room to deliver her salad. Shelby stared after her, lost in thought. Natalie hadn’t been at the ranch today. Not to show her face, anyway.
Was Chuck Beaufort’s daughter the one behind the prank played last night and the gas can left in the root cellar?
Chapter 9
It had been a head-pounding night, the restaurant crowded with men watching the Tennessee game on the big screen
s. Tips were lousy and her feet ached. She was the last to leave because she’d stayed a little later to help the cook clean up, and was ready to crash into her bed.
And Nick expected her to ride back to the Belle Creek on...that?
Shelby stared at the Harley with unease. She’d never ridden a motorcycle before and right now, she was so dog-tired she feared she would fall off. In her haste to dress, she’d forgotten about Nick’s bike. The short, fringed skirt would prove a real challenge.
“What’s wrong? Never ride before?”
Black helmet in hand, dressed in a dark leather jacket, blue jeans and boots, Nick looked dangerous. Bad-boy extreme, his hair brushed against the collar of his jacket and his smile was sexy. A hint of wildness lurked in that smile, as if he planned to do more than ride them back home.
Shelby gave him a long, cool look as she adjusted the purse on her shoulder. “Not something like this.”
“She’s just like riding a horse.” Nick gave the seat a pat. “Less temperamental.”
“Except it eats less and doesn’t pee on your shoes when you’re in firing range.”
He threw back his head. His deep, rich laughter caused a funny flutter in her stomach.
A rill of fear rippled through her. If she rode with him and took this risk, it meant leaving her world behind and trusting herself to this dark stranger who knew nothing of it.
“Shel?” Nick held out his hand. “I promise, I’ll take good care of you and I won’t let you go.”
She studied the shiny metal, the numerous gadgets. “Tell me about your bike.”
Approval radiated from him. He pointed out the midsection. “Twin B engine, makes the ride smooth and even. No vibrations.” He flicked his fingers at the front. “Windshield, headlights. I used to have a smaller bike, without a windshield, but got tired of eating bugs on the highway when I had to travel across the country.”
Nick bent over, jeans stretching smoothly over his taut bottom, and patted the box on the bike’s side. “Saddlebags, with chrome studs, where I store my gear. Good for all the long-distance trips I make.”
Shelby hitched in a breath. “I like the view,” she murmured, staring at his very fine butt.
