His Southern Temptation (2 page)

“Good idea. I’ll keep visiting, but I think we need a woman to try to get the girls to talk. They all clam up like I still smell like a cop.”

“Maybe someone from Roanoke PD would like a side job? Be willing to go undercover? I could ask around and see.”

“Yeah, that might work. A woman in the same line of work would be able to get them to spill. If Ebony is right, then Sarah might be in real trouble.” Lucky paused, thinking through the different scenarios that might play out from this night’s information-gathering. “Any cop needs to play it solid. Those girls would sniff out a fake a mile away.”

“You got someone else in mind?” Jack asked.

“No.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. They were gritty and tired from too many nights at the Jolly Gent and long days on the farm. “I’ll sleep on it. I need to hit the sack.”

“Okay, I’m going to head home to Kayla.” Jack peered down at his watch, a smile twisting up the corner of his mouth. “She should still be up.”

“Whatever. I’m going to a lonely bed in Elliott House.” At Jack’s quizzical look, he said, “I got roped into house-sitting. Teague doesn’t want the house empty when he’s in DC so much. He asked me to stay for a while.”

“I thought you were going to stay with Beck.”

Lucky thought of their childhood friend. Dr. Beckett Sutherland frequently had overnight guests and his condo had crappy soundproofing. Not a great combination when you needed to crash and weren’t currently getting any.

“No, Beck has too many visitors as it is.” Lucky dug into his pocket for his keys, shaking his head at his temporary state of homelessness. “The only other alternative to house-sitting was moving back in with my folks at the farm.”

“Oh, hell no,” Jack said.

“Yeah. So, I’ll bunk down in Teague’s old room and hang out with the generations of dead Elliotts haunting the halls. It’ll be like living in a morgue but with a huge flat-screen.”

“Do you ever think about
her
?” Jack asked. He didn’t even have to explain whom he meant. They both knew the woman in question. That was the problem with having your best friend also be your first cousin and know everything about you since the day you were born. There was nowhere to hide when those drunken confessions came back to visit.

Lucky sighed, but didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Every time I close my eyes, man. Every damn time.”

Chapter Two

You never forgot the sound of a round chambered in a gun three feet away from your head.

Lucky froze in place, his training as a Marine and the years spent in the desert trying not to get his ass shot off kicked in on pure instinct.
No sudden moves. Do what they say, and wait for the chance to disarm the asshole and make him hurt.

Sounded like the best Friday night he’d had in a long time.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot. I called the police and they’re on their way.”

Lucky perked up at the sound of his captor’s voice—a woman. Not that he for one minute underestimated the power of a woman to take him down, but it did give him some options once he got the gun out of the equation. He hoped she wasn’t some kind of secret ninja who could seriously clean his clock before he knew what hit him. Martial arts were definitely not his thing.

He swept a quick glance around the dark room, assessing available things to use as a weapon, and groaned. The place was stuffed to the gills with priceless antiques collected by generations of Elliotts and hauled by some poor schmuck off the boat and all the way across Virginia. If he damaged one little fiber on the expensive rugs under his feet, Mrs. Elliott would have him castrated. With a rusty spoon.

Nope, he needed to try to wrap this up with as few property insurance claims as possible.

“Now, sugar, I think we can work this out.” Lucky dropped the tenor of his voice into the low, gravely cadence that usually worked with the opposite sex. It was shameless, but so was pulling a weapon on a guy in the dark. “Why don’t you put down the gun and we’ll talk?”

“Ha! Save it. You can try to sweet-talk the cops.” Her voice was firm, but possessed the lilt of a woman bred in this part of the country. “Sheriff Cantrell will be here any minute, and you can explain to him and your lonely cellmate, Bubba, why you broke in.”

Shock snapped up his spine as his head whipped up and jerked around at what she said, instantly noting her mistake about the name of the current sheriff. Who was this chick? She knew the name of the former sheriff but not the new one.
Not a current local, then
. He shifted and lowered his hands a fraction of an inch. It was gloomy in the darkened room, but in his peripheral vision he saw her hoist the gun up a little higher and lower her finger to the trigger.

“Whoa, buddy. Move another inch and the cops will need to bring an ambulance with them.” Her drawl had turned icy and very calm. Not a good sign. Shrieking, hysterical people were easier to deal with because they were sloppy and gave you more chances to disarm them. Unflappable women who knew how to use a gun were the ones you worried about the most.

This one knew how to use a gun.

“Hey, don’t get all twitchy. You just surprised me.” He held his hands up higher, lacing them behind his head to let her know he didn’t mean any harm.
For now
. He didn’t relish the idea of having his ass shot just when he was getting his act together and his family needed his help out of a financial bind. Keeping her talking was a good way to divert her from blowing his head off. “Just so you know, Sheriff Cantrell retired a few years back. Walter Burke is the sheriff now.”

“Really? That’s
fascinating
.”

“Just thought you’d want to know who you called.”

“I don’t care if the Easter Bunny is sheriff as long as he brings a car to take your ass to jail where you belong.”

“Ouch.” In spite of the situation, he grinned at her spirit.
Maybe they could get together after this was all cleared up?
He could take her to the firing range and see her actually use the weapon she was holding, and then they could take a little drive to one of his favorite places to park by the river. Nothing got the libido going like a little gunpowder and flying bullets. “Listen, this is nuts. I’m going to reach in my pocket and get my cell phone and we can call Teague and—”

“Who?” The word erupted in a gasp and she took a step closer and lowered the gun slightly.

Bingo.

Lucky leaned forward, pivoting quickly on the balls of his feet as he whirled to face his captor. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins gave him speed, while years of practice erupted in a precise choreography of movement that ended with the gun across the room and the woman on her back, pinned to the plush carpet with his body.

She bucked and fought, with a stream of words so dirty they’d earn her the instant respect of his Recon brothers. He was surprised he heard them at all, the familiar buzz of danger and adrenaline filling his ears and making it difficult to focus on anything but survival. His body was screaming for him to pummel, restrain, and beat his opponent into submission—a natural response cultivated by years of combat in ugly, violent places. Lucky’s muscles strained with the effort not to hurt the woman, his skin tight and slicking with a sheen of sweat.

“Get off me!” She was slight but strong, and the muscles flexing under her soft skin were a testament to an athletic lifestyle. She tried one more time to dislodge him, almost succeeding in racking his balls. While he and his mama were eternally grateful she didn’t ruin his chances for fatherhood, he admired her ability to get that close. He was a trained Marine, and usually his opponents were unconscious piles of goo at this point.

Yeah, he definitely wanted to see her after all this was over.

Due to either exhaustion or the patience to wait for him to make a mistake, the woman under him stilled and relaxed with an exhale of air that pushed her breasts against him. In spite of the adrenaline kicking through his system, he took a few moments to collect his thoughts, his mind taking inventory of her physical attributes, strengths, and weaknesses.

She was tall, her length stretched out under most of his six-foot-three-inch frame even with their legs tangled together. And he could feel every inch of her long, silky-skinned limbs as they extended out of the sexiest, tiniest pair of boy shorts ever sold without a warning label. Those shorts, coupled with the tiny tank top, left absolutely everything to fuel his imagination.

Damn, she smelled good too. From where his face rested in the crook between her face and her shoulder, he was enveloped in the combination of coconut and a sharp, exotic floral scent. Their exertion had caused the unique combination to intensify, and he couldn’t resist taking one last deep breath and dragging it in. It reminded him of the beach, long summer days, and suntan oil.

“Are we going to lie here all night?” Her voice was breathy, but she maintained a healthy edge of “kiss my ass” in the delivery.

“Nope. Only until the sheriff arrives and he confiscates the gun you tried to kill me with.”

“I didn’t try to kill you.”

“Sugar, if you point a gun at me you better be prepared to—” Lucky lifted his head to get a good look at his would-be assassin, and the shock of her identity hit him between the eyes, swirled around for a bit, and melted his brain. The hair was different, shorter and colored in broad stripes of blond and darkest brown, but he’d know those eyes anywhere—hazel with all the colors of autumn on the mountain—just like her brother, Teague. Just like all the Elliotts.

“Holy shit. Taylor?”

“Lucky?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shock, instant remorse at the way he’d tackled her, and the crazy need to touch her threaded together in his mind in a confusing jumble of conflicting desires. The only clear thought was that Taylor was here—in the flesh— after two long years. He didn’t even mind his hands shaking as he released her arms from over her head, trailing his fingers down one smooth cheek, and finally stopping to cup her jaw in a light grip that forced her to maintain eye contact. Not that he needed to—her gaze never wavered from his. The warmth of welcome and the edge of heat in her expression made his fingertips tingle where they stroked her skin. “The last time I saw you in Elliott, you were stealing my car.”

“I only borrowed it. I called to tell you where I left it.” Her sexy lower lip pushed out in an amused pout, and instantly he was back in the moment outside the church when he’d gotten the first full-throttle view of the woman who’d been hiding inside her all along. Damn, she was still the most exciting woman he’d ever known.

“You took the keys out of my pocket when you kissed me.”

Lucky still remembered that kiss. There had been nights in the desert and shittier places where that kiss had pulled him through to the dawn. The kiss had been way too short, with lots of tongue, a truckload of regret, and the bitter edge of good-bye. As always, the memory of her caused his body to react, and the arousal coursing through him battled the adrenaline to heighten the buzz in his brain.

It never mattered to him that she was wearing a wedding dress meant for another man when he’d held her close and tasted her passion. And it didn’t even factor into the equation that she was his best friend’s little sister and should have been off-limits.

Taylor shifted underneath him, one leg wrapping around his hip as her muscles softened and invited him closer. Her movement brought his hard-on into contact with the heat between her legs, and he fought the urge to rock against her and finish what had begun over a decade earlier. He should get up. He should let her go. This was crazy. This was still wrong.

They always did this to each other—pushed the limits of their sanity with this impossible lust. The only thing that ever came of it was stolen moments, sad good-byes, and regret. Time and distance were the only things that kept them from driving each other insane.

The times they’d hooked up after her flight from Elliott had been amazing, sexy, decadent, and addictive. They’d also been clandestine, in Hawaii or whatever place their paths crossed, which added a dirty little thrill to the whole affair.

The stroke of her fingers through his hair had him leaning into it, begging for more. Lucky closed his eyes and let her tug his head down until their foreheads rested against each other, her warm breath skimming across his skin and making him shiver. Her chest shook in silent laughter at his reaction, but he won the battle when he grazed the smooth skin at the edge of her boy shorts and slipped underneath, raising goose bumps on the sensitive skin along the crease between her hip and stomach. Taylor gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair until he saw sparks behind his eyes from the twinge of pain.

Opening his eyes, Taylor filled his vision. She was beautiful, her perfection marred only by the confusion lingering in the depths of her gaze. Lucky knew his expression mirrored hers. They were two sides of a twisted coin. She was the first to break the silence, her voice hushed and a little hoarse. “I heard you’re back in town for good.”

“Yes. My folks are in trouble with the farm and I’m going to buy them out.” He swallowed the lump of dread in this throat. He knew the answer to his question already, but had to hear it out loud to make it real. “Are you staying?”

The fierce truth of her words sparked in her eyes and tightened her lips into a thin line, even though her tone was just a little bit above a whisper. “No. Never.”

And there was the final rub.

They were always one step out of sync. In the same orbit, circling each other, but on separate paths. The problem was that somewhere along the way he’d started wanting more, wanting her for more than a few stolen days. She didn’t. And that was why he hadn’t gone back to her in the last two years. They were wrong for each other.

But it didn’t matter.

It was the pull of her gravity, the irresistible force of Taylor that caused him to lower his head and crush his lips against hers. Taylor never hesitated, opening her mouth to him, her tongue enticing him further as they ate at each other with eleven years of unquenched lust. She was warm and wet, and tasted as good as he remembered—sweet, rich, and complicated. That was his girl—one big complication.