His Southern Temptation (5 page)

“Shut up!” Taylor jumped back into his arms, her actions pushing a grunt and a laugh out of him. He hugged her again, this time with a hard squeeze, and in that moment she was really glad she came back. “That’s awesome. You deserve it.”

He blushed at her words, modesty and pride warring in his eyes and in the twitch of his lips. Pride won out and he grinned from ear to ear.
Go, big brother
.

Pulling back, she reached up to adjust her T-shirt, tugging it down from where it had ridden up. Teague glanced down and,
presto
, disapproval resettled in the line of his shoulders. She steeled herself for what was coming next.

“Taylor, what is
that
?”

“A piercing.” She tried to keep the defensive tone out of her voice and act like she didn’t care what he thought, but knew she sucked at it. There was no danger of her winning an Oscar any time soon.

“When did you get it? It looks like it hurt.”

“About two years ago. It didn’t hurt as much as the other ones. A little pinch and done.”

“Other ones?”

“Yeah. Two others. You’ll never see them.” She waited for their location to sink in and bit back her laugh when his eyes widened and he maintained strict eye contact. God, she loved her brother, but damn he was seriously uptight about some things. His attitude was practically begging her to be the brat and tweak him a little more. That’s what little sisters were for, right? “They hurt more than the tattoos though.”

“Oh, hell.” He settled to sit on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and looking like a lawyer in full cross-examination mode.
Well, give it your best shot. I’ve got nothing to hide.
Except the fact that she’d slept with his best friend. Repeatedly. On different continents. She’d keep that to herself. “How many? Where? You know they’re going to slide dangerously south when you’re an old woman, right?”

“Whatever. I’m going to be hot when I’m old.” Taylor flashed him body parts as she rattled off the list. “One on my wrist, ankle, lower back—total tramp stamp—and one on my shoulder.” She turned back to face him, her hands open with a shrug. “That’s it.”

“I think that’s enough. I hope you don’t regret them someday.”

“There are many things I will regret, but a little body ink and piercings won’t be on the list.”

Teague stared at her. She wanted to tell him not to worry about it, she was a big girl and the country club path wasn’t the only one that led to that mystical world called happiness. She’d found it with a stolen car, a plane ticket to Hawaii, and the sand between her toes.

“Well, avoid shocking the Baptist ladies club when they come to help you with the house. They’ll see those tats and hold a prayer vigil over you.”

“Why would they be coming to help?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been gone so long you’ve forgotten southern hospitality?”

“Or they just want to get in the house for a look around?” That was the flip side of southern hospitality—if you’re the one delivering the help, you got a front-row seat for everything.

He put a finger against his lips, indicating she should keep her voice down. Teague gestured toward the front of the office. “Jerline arranged it, and I’ve learned not to tell her no. I’m man enough to admit that she scares me a little.”

“Chicken.” Laughing, she reached down to grab her purse, ready to head out and get started on the packing. Their father’s secretary had always been an unstoppable force, fueled by her no-nonsense approach to life and a towering hairstyle anchored in place with about three cans of Aqua Net hair spray. Taylor welcomed the help, because the sooner they got the house sold, the sooner her dream became a reality.

“You really okay with Lucky staying at the house?”

She turned to look at him. His tone was off, something strained underneath the casual surface. “Sure, why not?”

“I remember you two have a love-hate thing going on at times.” He gestured to the ceiling where the furnished apartment their father owned was located. “You can stay here.”

“Nope. We’re good. We’ll work it out like grown-ups.”

Teague was pretty clueless about the passion that was always running between them like an electric current. She grinned at how she planned to work it out with Lucky, and in how many places, and in how many different positions.

“I promise we’ll try not to shock the Baptist ladies too much.”

Chapter Five

“You can come out now. They’re gone.”

Taylor sat perched on the kitchen counter watching the opening to the back staircase, the one originally intended for the servants, for the appearance of the man she knew was lurking in the shadows. Lucky was off his game if she’d spotted him slinking back up the stairs during the chaos created when the Baptist ladies left for the day.

Over the past two days, she’d caught only a glimpse of his hot ass when he sneaked out of the house with the sunrise, and missed him completely when he came home way after dark.

“How’d you know I was here?” He descended the stairs, emerging into the light of the kitchen and blinking against the sudden change in his surroundings.

“I always know when you’re near me,” she said, her words emphasized by the slow crossing and uncrossing of her legs. The move was deliberately sexy on her part.

She watched him rake his eyes over her body, hoping he was enticed by what she was offering, from the tips of the lime-green polish on her toes to the soft curve of her breasts exposed by the neckline of her yellow sundress. When his gaze shifted to meet hers, the breath she inhaled was fire as it scorched her chest and spread wildly in her system, making her toes curl. Lucky’s stare dropped to where her nipples pressed against the flimsy fabric, his neck muscles flexing with a hard swallow.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Sometimes you had to play dirty to win.

Taylor smiled, drawing his eyes back to her face. “Hungry?”

Her question broke the moment, and he jumped a little at her voice. Stalking over to the fridge, he adjusted the half-erection pushing against the soft fabric of his low-slung sweatpants and mumbled just loud enough for her to hear, “What’s with you and no underwear?”

“It’s too confining.” She jumped down from the counter, nodding when he handed her a beer. “Most men don’t complain when a woman goes commando.”

“Oh no”—he waggled a finger at her, choking down his gulp of beverage on a laugh—“I’m not complaining. I’m all for it even though it makes me crazy. Thumbs up for the no underwear.”

“Good to know.”

They stared at each other, enjoying the moment as the hum of attraction played low between them like their own personal movie soundtrack. Lucky broke eye contact first, and Taylor took a steadying breath and a gulp of beer. The bottle slipped in her hand a little, the combination of condensation and her sweaty palms making the simple act of getting a buzz treacherous. That’s the way she always felt around Lucky—safe and familiar, but perilous and exciting at the same time. It was what had kept her hanging on all these years.

“What smells so fucking good?” he asked, diluting the tension with his abrupt change in conversation.

She put her beer on the counter, grabbing the mitts and opening the oven door.

“That would be the chicken-and-dumpling casserole left by the ladies. Grab some plates and we’ll eat, get drunk, and watch something violent and sexy on cable,” Taylor said.

“Oh my God. Where have you been all my life?”

“At the risk of sounding too sweet for words, right under your nose.”

“Uh-uh. You weren’t always like this. I knew you.”

“Well, then, you were the only one.” She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see him pause at her words. How could he say he knew her when she hadn’t known the real Taylor until the moment at the altar when she’d declared her independence in front of three hundred and fifty guests and her gobsmacked parents?

Shrugging his shoulders, Lucky swallowed the last gulp of his beer before foraging in the cabinets for plates, and grabbed two more beers from the fridge. Taylor maneuvered the hot casserole onto the countertop, almost losing her grip on the dish when he reached up, exposing the deep grooves of his abdomen and the trail of dark-blond hair disappearing under his waistband. Suddenly her hunger for the casserole was eclipsed by a deeper need.

He looked down and caught her gawking, but she didn’t look away. The attraction simmering between them overpowered even the temperature of the oven. Tonight, she was going to make him face it and do something about it. She straightened up and began spooning portions of the amazing casserole on their plates. “Let’s go eat.”

Three hours later, the room swirled a little when she reached for her beer on the coffee table.

“Are you drunk?” Lucky asked.

“Nope. Just tipsy.” She smiled at him, letting her eyes linger on the scruff on his jaw, the blond highlights catching the muted light in the room. She remembered how good that felt against her skin, marking her with a pink flush the morning after. “Even
you
look good.”

“Oh, then you
must
be drunk.” He laughed, eyes twinkling with his own amusement over the rim of the beer bottle as he took another drink.

The alcohol made her movements languid, the fire of desire in her belly spiking to a new temperature with every brush of their hands, shoulders, and feet. The couch was big enough for several people, but they’d remained close together, pulled by their own sexual gravity toward each other.

She leaned her head back and looked up at the high ceiling bracketed by heavy molding. “I really love this house.”

“You do?” Lucky turned his head on the cushion next her, his expression puzzled. “I thought you hated this house. That’s why you want to sell it.”

“No. I want to sell it because I need the money, but I don’t hate it. It’s beautiful.” She altered her position to face him, close enough breathe in his aftershave. She’d have his scent on her clothes tomorrow, and the thought made her shiver. “I just don’t want to live here. Sometimes I think there’s too much history in these rooms.”

Lucky shifted to mirror her position, his blue eyes soft and crinkled at the edges with laugh lines. He always had a ready smile and a joke to ease your worries. The times he’d been unable to smile—when his brother had died and the times when he’d come to her after difficult deployments—had broken her heart. Taylor shook off the memories, not wanting to dwell on them when Lucky was so close and very delicious.

“So you really want to stay in Hawaii?” he asked.

“Yep. I’ve built up a solid group of clients. I like being hands-on with people. And it’s great that everyone leaves me feeling good.”

“You could do that here.”

“I could.” Taylor reached out, tracing the muscled line of his forearm with her nail, raising goose bumps all along his warm skin. He didn’t pull away so she leaned in closer. “But my future is there.”

“This town is great. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

She laughed at his earnestness. The Chamber of Commerce should bottle it and sell it as a souvenir.

“Now I know
you’re
drunk.”

“The mountains, the lakes, the farms, and the people. There’s no better place in the world. I’ve looked.”

“Your vision is skewed by the fact that no one is trying to shoot you here.” She paused, remembering their standoff the first night. “Well, other than me, and that was a mistake.”

“I’ll just have to show you the Elliott I know.” Lucky slid closer, his fingers brushing along her chin, wrapping around a blond strand and tugging slightly. “Maybe you’ll want to stay.”

“Yeah, like
that’s
going to happen.”

“What if I wanted you to stay?”

And there it was. The look. The one he’d worn the last time he’d visited her in Hawaii. A night of dancing and laughing ended in her bed. Suddenly it was soft touches, whispered pleas, and looking into a gaze so intense it caused something in her chest to bloom and reach out for it.

It had scared the shit out of her. Not the feeling, but because it was something she
wanted
. Investing her heart in this man would take her over if she let it get even the smallest foothold. She refused to let it happen and be that vulnerable again.

Taylor pulled back, giving herself room to catch her suddenly rapid breath. He examined her face, searching for something in the depths of her eyes. She stubbornly fought the urge to close them in an effort to keep him from seeing too far into her soul, because if anyone could get in her head, in her heart, it was Lucky. Time to get back on safer ground.

“You’re tense. Let me rub your back.” She sat up, trying not to laugh at the rapid-fire emotions running across his face. “Stop. You’re overthinking this. Get your shirt off.”

“But—”

“Take. Your. Shirt. Off. Now.” She hopped up, wobbling a little on legs made woozy by the beers, but made it up the stairs and into her bath to find the oil. She skidded along the hardwood floors, anxious to get back before he changed his mind. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she descended, the rapid beats loud in her ears and transforming into a low roar when she rounded the corner into the family room and saw Lucky stretched out on the couch. Facedown, his long, lean back covered in tanned skin and defined by the angles of sleek muscles underneath. He was beautiful.

“Okay. This isn’t my table, but it should be fine.”

She knelt down next to him, pouring the oil and warming it in her hands before placing them softly on his back. It was a gentle contact, one that would allow him to become accustomed to being touched. As she moved along his spine, increasing the pressure, he tensed a little and she slipped into work mode as she eased him into the right state of mind.

“You know the drill. Tell me if anything hurts. If you want more or less pressure. If you want me to do something again.”

He nodded and she increased the force of her caress while spreading the oil over his back, following the angular lines of his body. The sandalwood oil she’d picked perfumed the air. She got into her zone and drank in the fine details of his body. The dark, heavy tribal tattoos stretching along both biceps and trailing over one shoulder, and a larger one spanning upward along his side that depicted a Joshua tree. His skin was sleek, smooth, and supple except for the battle scars—mostly old and healed over—that caused her touch to drag a little.