Brides on the Run (Books 1-4)

by Jami Albright

  His mournful tone made her smile. “It was probably manufactured and not hand knitted.”

  “So the Chinese are responsible for my summer of sexual frustration. I’m glad to know there’s someone to blame. Of course, when a guy’s sixteen, a cool breeze can cause a boner, so I can’t hold too much of a grudge.”

  “’Fraid so.” She shouldn’t laugh, but she couldn’t help it. He was the most irreverent person she’d ever met, even more brazen than Luanne.

  He draped his arms over the guitar, considering. “Do you think that’s why I get horny every time I eat an eggroll?”

  They both laughed.

  She cleared her throat. “Speaking of horny.” Smooth move, stupid. She mentally slapped herself. “Did we…I mean…” This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman. Shoulders squared, she plunged forward. “What I mean to say is…have you been tested?”

  “Tested for what?”

  His bewildered expression would have been comical if the topic weren’t so serious. “Tested for HIV?” She bent her head to her work and didn’t look up.

  Silence.

  More silence.

  Way too much silence.

  Why wasn’t he answering her?

  She ventured a peek from under her lashes.

  “Why are you askin’, Red? You got plans for tonight I don’t know about?”

  His smarmy grin ignited the short fuse she’d been carrying around since she woke up naked in his bed. Every time they carved out a tiny piece of civility, he’d say something crappy and ruin it. “Listen, buddy, this is not easy for me, and you damn well know it. I understand this is a conversation we should have had before we had sex, but at the time, I was a tad bit incapacitated.”

  He dialed back the slimy smile, but his expression still danced with suppressed humor. Didn’t he understand the seriousness of this subject? Anger bubbled up from her toes, scorching her from the inside out. Her muscles coiled, and she actually considered smacking him upside the head.

  What was wrong with her? She didn’t usually have a hairpin trigger. Ordinarily, she was the picture of self-control.

  With a monstrous effort, she smothered her irritation and hoped she could actually speak through gritted teeth. “I would appreciate an answer.”

  “I got tested a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

  Her knitting became the most fascinating thing in the world. Prickly heat toasted her neck and cheeks. “It’s good to hear you haven’t had sex with anyone except me since you were tested. I’m sure we used a condom, but it’s still a relief.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, we didn’t use a condom.”

  “What?”

  “We. Did not. Use. A condom.”

  “Ah…well, that’s not good.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No. I’m pretty sure it’s not fine.”

  “It’s no big deal, Scarlett.”

  “What in God’s name does that mean?”

  He fell over laughing.

  “Gavin?”

  Huge belly laughs came from the sofa. She snagged a pillow and hurled it at him. Screw self-control. “You know what, I don’t want to know.” She unceremoniously dumped her knitting into its basket. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Wait,” he wheezed. “I couldn’t get the condom on before you fell asleep.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You fell asleep Scarlett. We didn’t have sex.” Shit, she didn’t look so good.

  “Wha…what?”

  “It’s true.” He sat up and grabbed the guitar before it could slide off the sofa. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “I…we…I’m…” She blinked frantically and started with the deep breathing thing again. “I’m still a virgin?”

  “Huh?” She couldn’t have said what he thought she said.

  “Nothing.” With clumsy jerky movements, she grasped her craft basket and tried to flee.

  He caught her arm as she dashed past him. “Scarlett, stop.”

  “No.” With a strength that belied her size, she yanked her arm from his grasp and sprinted from the room.

  He stared after her. The room tilted, and he had trouble staying upright.

  His wife was a virgin? He dropped his head to his hands. An effin’ virgin.

  What was he supposed to do with that?

  Chapter 10

  “Why the hell are we up at the butt-crack of dawn?” Gavin rubbed the sleep from his tear ducts and tried to keep up with Scarlett. For some ungodly reason, she was power walking to Floyd’s house.

  He’d give his left nut for some coffee, but his wife wasn’t a coffee drinker. There wasn’t a drop of the stuff in her house. Not even instant. Unbelievable.

  The episode of Confessions of a Virgin she’d treated him to the night before was still looping through his mind. He kept starting and stopping the process of breaking down the intel. Without coffee? Forget about it.

  Item number one on the to-do list: Buy a coffee maker. He’d been assured there would be coffee at breakfast. There’d better be, or someone was going to get hurt.

  Item number two: Find out why his twenty-five year old wife was a virgin, but, first things first.

  “So…no coffee?”

  “For the third time, Gavin, I don’t drink coffee. I like herbal tea.”

  “Why?”

  “Caffeine is very addictive. The body’s a temple and all.”

  “Interesting.” He finally caught up to her.

  “Why is that interesting?”

  “It’s just that several nights ago, in Vegas, you treated your temple like a frat house.”

  She skidded to a stop. “I did not.”

  He turned to face her and strode backward, amused at the indignant look on her face. “Yea, you pretty much did.” Her hands flew to her face, and her shoulders shook. Damn, he hadn’t meant to make her cry? He strode back to her. “Scarlett, I’m—”

  “Oh, my gosh.” She opened her hands so she could peek out and scrunched up her nose like she was too embarrassed to look at him. But she wasn’t crying. She was giggling. “I totally did, didn’t I?” She fanned her pink cheeks, and continued on her way, still snickering.

  That was the last thing he’d expected. She never ceased to amaze him. He followed her laughter, a tether that pulled him along.

  “I still can’t believe I’m up this early.”

  “Stop complaining, rock star. It’s seven in the morning. Half the county’s been up for at least two hours. Besides, you’re the one who accepted Honey’s invitation to breakfast. It’s like you can’t tell her no.”

  He grunted, neither confirming nor denying the allegation. It was absolutely true.

  He couldn’t say no to the eccentric Honey. There was something about the badly dressed, round, older woman that got to him.

  “You’re not fooling anyone, Gavin. She’s got you wrapped around her pudgy little finger. It’s cute.” She placed two fingers to her neck and looked at her watch on the opposite wrist. After a few seconds of concentration, she lowered her arms and began to pump them faster, picking up her pace as she did.

  Cute. Nobody’d ever called him cute. He smiled. It was ridiculous, of course. He was anything but cute. However, if that’s how she saw him, who was he to argue?

  Scarlett’s firm, delicious butt helped to take his mind off the unfamiliar warm feelings blooming in his chest. She was wearing a snug pink tank top, neon pink cross-trainers and—best of all—black sports leggings with no panty lines. Just her tight ass wrapped in a thin layer of spandex.

  Suddenly, he was a lot more awake. He could catch up to her, but he wouldn’t do that. The view was fine right where he was.

  “Why are you walking so fast?”

  “I incorporate exercise into my daily routine whenever I can. I walk three miles every day. It’s a fourth of a mile to the big house and back. Later, I will get on my treadmill and finish the rest.” H
er hair was pulled up in another messy bun, and it bobbed from side to side with every step. It was like a little metronome, clicking off a rhythm.

  Watch my ass. Watch my ass. Watch my ass.

  So…he watched her ass.

  “I know. I saw your schedules around the house. There’s one on your dresser, one in the bathroom, and one on the fridge.” He didn’t mention the old schedules he’d found in her dresser drawers.

  She’d set him up in her bedroom while she slept in her office. He’d snooped. Who wouldn’t? No startling revelations, though. The most interesting thing he’d found was in her underwear drawer. Behind her sensible panties, of which he was familiar, there was an array of thongs and lacy bikinis in every color under the sun. He’d pawed through garters and sexy bras as well. The drawer was like a mullet, business in the front and party in the back. He chuckled at the analogy.

  That bunch of undies was a picture of the woman, herself. On the surface, she was sensible and safe. But under the surface, he’d seen glimpses of the forbidden and naughty. The big question was why did she hide her adventurous side?

  “You better hurry up, Gavin. Honey doesn’t hold meals for anyone.”

  Scarlett was standing on the back porch wiping her face with a towel. She brought her right arm over her head and stretched to the left side, exposing the tan skin above her waistband.

  The minute he lasered in on her bare stomach, he forgot all about his need for coffee. In fact, he forgot everything because all of the blood drained from his brain and headed straight to his dick. Dammit, she wasn’t even trying to be sexy, and still, she lit every cell in his body.

  Really? Over a tiny patch of flesh. Come on, Gav. Get it together.

  Head down, he marched up the stairs to the porch. She could cool down on her own. The last thing he needed was a hard-on to go with his bacon and eggs.

  He was so intent on getting past her without looking at any more enticing tidbits, he ran smack into her delicious body. She was bent forward to stretch her hamstrings, head down, hands touching the ground and butt in the air. Disaster might have been averted if she hadn’t been facing away from him. His front rammed directly into her backside. His little head yelled Score! His big head concentrated on keeping them upright.

  She squeaked and pitched forward.

  He wrapped his hands around her small waist and yanked back to stop their forward motion. This only served to intensify the contact between her sweet round butt and his celebratory crotch. “Oh, God.” His deep throaty growl hung in the air. For several torturous seconds, they stood immobilized. And then she moved.

  “Let go.” She wrenched away from him.

  “What?” Caught off guard, he tightened his hold on her. She twisted and started to fall.

  Gravity. Is. A Bitch.

  Worried he would crush her, he clutched her to him and rolled. Like a slow-motion contortionist act, arms and legs pinwheeled and tangled. Her shriek reverberated in his ears. Air wheezed from him when he landed flat on his back with her sprawled on top of him.

  She felt damn good. This was a hell of a lot better than his fantasies about her and it sure as hell was better than the alcohol-glazed memories from Vegas. Being a gentleman was overrated. No wonder he’d never tried it before. They were glued together like a preschool project. The fall hurt, but he’d do it a thousand times if this was the payoff.

  Her startled indigo eyes were mere inches from his as he struggled to make his lungs work.

  Her unruly mane escaped its tie, and his hands slid into her copper curls on their own. “Scarlett.”

  She quickly put her hands on his chest and scrambled to a seated position, no doubt to minimize the contact between them. But she only made things worse. Now, the woman was sitting astride his hips. The part of her body that was so obviously off limits was nestled snugly against the part of him that was so clearly not. His heart stopped, stuttered, raced and did the one thing it was meant to do—pump copious amounts of blood right where he needed it.

  A squeak escaped from her mouth at the evidence of his excellent circulatory system. “Gavin?”

  “Don’t move. Don’t speak. Give me a minute.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like sandpaper rubbed over raw vocal cords. He drug in a huge amount of air, counted the rafters of the porch and played musical scales in his head to try and kill his hard-on. Another long inhale, an even longer exhale, self-control was within his reach. Just…one…more…minute.

  A tiny rock of her hips and a soft moan from her parted lips propelled him beyond caring about restraint, chivalry, or his in-laws on the other side of the door.

  His hand went to her neck, and he yanked her mouth to his. Lightning scorched his spine when their lips met. Her immediate response cranked up the urgency of the kiss and his restraint slipped farther from his grasp.

  There was nothing elegant about the kiss. He was usually a lot smoother than this, but he couldn’t find the reins to slow them down. It didn’t start slow and work its way to hot. This thing went from zero to sixty in a nanosecond.

  Her hair hung like a curtain around them, a barrier between them and sanity. Cherry blossom and fresh rain surrounded him. It was an accelerant to his already out of control desire.

  Hunger for more of her made him go for the strip of exposed skin around her waist, while the other kept her mouth glued to his. Her body was slick and damp from exercise, which conjured his favorite slick damp spot.

  He was going to hell. He didn’t care.

  With a needy whimper, she rocked down on him. He bucked in response. His hands shot down her body to cup her ass, and she deepened the kiss.

  A horse neighed, and voices from inside the house drifted through the air. The hard boards of the porch scratched into his back. Slowly, he was dragged back to reality.

  Fifty thousand dollars, idiot.

  What were they doing? Did she even like him? Or had his fifty thousand dollars bought her attention?

  He wanted to believe there was more to Scarlett, but his mother and too many groupies had taught him women were out for themselves. Period. Even the mother of his child betrayed him.

  Did she tell him about the pregnancy? No. She took money from Johnny and ran. With more willpower than he thought he possessed, he eased back from the kiss.

  No, no, no, don’t stop.

  Flames licked at Scarlett, and she needed more. One taste of him was only a tease. He was a delicacy that was bad for her, but too tempting to resist. She wasn’t done, not even close.

  Something long, thick, and rock hard pressed against her most intimate place and begged her to squirm closer. She whined in frustration, not knowing exactly how to get what she wanted.

  Her fingers convulsed on his shoulders as her universe narrowed to this man and her body’s reaction to him.

  To his credit, he didn’t hesitate to comply. His warm hand tunneled under her spandex top and found the swell of her breast. His thumb made erotic circles around the tip, setting off a chain reaction of need. She yanked at his T-shirt until she got her hands on his flesh. Oh, that was so good. She was on her way to getting what she wanted.

  The screen door creaked, and Floyd cleared his throat.

  “Oh, my,” Joyce declared.

  Honey whooped.

  “Dude,” Brody added.

  This was not the way she wanted to greet her family. Lip-locked and Gavin’s hand fused to her breast.

  Scarlett jerked upright.

  Gavin winced.

  “Oh, sorry.” Scarlett pushed on his chest to try and stand. But, her legs were like spaghetti. He slowly removed his hand from under her top, disentangled them, and pulled her to her feet.

  She straightened her bun and clothes then waited for the self-recrimination…and waited. Nothing. What the heck? She’d been caught lying on top of a man, her tongue down his throat with him firmly at second base. That should have hit all of her humiliation buttons. There’d been some buttons pushed alright, but they had nothing to do
with shame and everything to do with the tingling thrill low in her belly.

  “What in the world are you two doin’ out here?” Floyd crossed his arms, an impressive scowl on his face.

  “Floyd, I would think it was perfectly obvious what they were doin’.” Honey shook her head like her brother might be mentally incompetent.

  “We were just…” Gavin started, but obviously couldn’t quite find the words to clarify the situation.

  She gave it a try. “You see, we…” Nope, she had nothing.

  “For heaven’s sake, can we all go into the house?” Floyd shouted. “My breakfast is gettin’ cold.”

  Scarlett was the last to enter the kitchen. Her legs were still a bit unstable and her vital signs irregular. The counter was a good place to lean and try to regain her equilibrium. Like that was possible. The undeniable truth was that her life would continue to tilt on its axis as long as Gavin was around. The logical left side of her brain continued calculating the fastest way to get rid of him. However, it appeared the right side of her brain now had a dog in the hunt and wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  Fabulous.

  Thankfully she was with her family, and their steady presence helped strengthen her. She knew who she was around them. She was the good one, the person everyone counted on, and the girl strong enough not to do any more stupid things around her husband.

  The rock star in question crossed the kitchen, looking incredibly edible in tight jeans and black studded boots. He fell on the coffee pot like a denim-clad hyena on a dying wildebeest. His light black t-shirt was still rucked up on the side, exposing a wolf’s head tattoo. Snarling teeth and red eyes peeked from beneath the fabric, filling her head with salacious images of licking every ink-covered inch of him.

  No! She’d never licked another living soul in her life and didn’t intend to start with him. Her gaze drifted back to the tan patch of skin and decided to remain open-minded about the licking issue.

  “Scarlett?” Gavin waved a hand in her direction.

  “Huh? What?”

  “Isn’t this the tea you drink?” He held up a pink box with white and yellow daisies on it.