Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 (2 page)

Brant stretched his lips tight to keep from stopping Dani mid-stream and asking if she’d ever seen Marilyn. But how to describe her? Hair color and body type were the only things he knew. Hell, he’d never seen her eye color.

There really weren’t words for the intense feeling he associated with that woman, either. Dani would never understand.

He paid for his package of strawberries and box of oatmeal and headed out of Brenniman’s. Summer had come early to Reedy. The streets were already packed with tourists. Not exactly a good night for driving up and down the main strip, as he’d also been doing the past two weeks.

He searched the small groups of people clustered in front of the old dollar movie theater. When a pale head of hair flashed in the sunlight, his breath caught. He took one step closer to the crowd and drew up short. No, not her. What the hell was wrong with him? Waiting for a woman he didn’t know?

She’d changed him. That’s what had happened. In those few moments he’d been close to her, he’d admitted that he needed someone in his life. Lying to himself got pretty fucking old, especially when he’d started to believe it.

And dammit, she’d needed help. She should never need to put groceries back when he had a pocket full of cash.

Not for the first time, his mind skimmed over the possibility that she was married or in a relationship. What then? The fragile bubble of hope he’d created would burst, and he’d come rushing back to reality, leather boots planted solidly on the dusty Reedy soil.

And his arms would still be empty. His heart filled with that excruciating longing.

He slipped into his Mustang and pulled into the line of traffic heading down Main Street. It was his own fault that he was alone. Since his last breakup, he’d avoided getting into another relationship. Dating was risky for someone like him—someone who needed to be in charge in the bedroom. His last girlfriend had nearly called in the authorities when he’d… Well, marked her.

The angry voice in the back of his mind said it was just rope burn, that she didn’t have any reason to be upset, as the bonds had been loose enough and she’d given her consent. In fact, she’d begged for Brant to tie her up. But once he’d let her down and started to massage her wrists, she’d cried out. In that instant, he’d been the scum of the earth. And he bore that shame to this day.

No, he couldn’t afford another slip like that. Which meant that if he ever got a chance with Marilyn, he couldn’t give in to his appetites.

He traversed Main Street and turned right toward a string of houses where she could possibly live. No name, no address, not even an eye color. No way to ask after her. No evidence that she existed except for that slightly bruised place in his heart that told him that she might need him as much as he needed her.

Boot-scootin’ wasn’t any damn fun in wedge sandals. After a decade of living in Wyoming, why the hell hadn’t Hayley broken down and bought herself a pair of cowboy boots—even secondhand ones?

Looking around the little hotel night club where dancers whirled, she felt as out of place as a ranch without manure. While the men scooted past her in denim shirts and Wrangler jeans, and the women wore short skirts with plaid shirts and cowgirl boots of all shades of leather, Hayley stood there in her gauzy peasant dress, bangles, toe rings and sandals.

At the moment, she’d never wanted to abandon her Bohemian style more. She should have done it a long time ago, when Kent picked her out of the giggling rodeo groupies and romanced her off her feet. Finding herself flat on her back beneath that hunky length of cowboy muscle had made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the roots of her naturally blonde hair. And everywhere in between.

Which was how she’d ended up pregnant and married at nineteen.

Yes, it was impossible not to think that if she had blended into the other groupies better, Kent wouldn’t have chosen her. But if he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have Drake, and that thought was unbearable.

“I’m going to head up to my room,” Hayley yelled over the country twang of the music and the stomp of eighty heels on the wooden floor.

Margie, her friend and flea market stall owner, waved her head back and forth in a state of buzzed bliss. “No way, Hayley! You’re dancing the next one with me. I see a cowboy with his eye on you.”

Panic settled in her core. All the more reason to leave. Her motto of “just say no to cowboys” had never been so fresh in her mind.

She laid a hand on Margie’s forearm. The woman was a sweetheart, but she liked to imbibe before a big market day. Why she would choose to do that was beyond Hayley. Sitting out in the scorching sun with a hangover didn’t sound like a picnic.

“I’ve got to call Drake before he goes to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early!” With that, she moved through the crowded space toward the exit. As she passed the bar, a couple of cowboys twisted around to watch her go.

While their clinging gazes and nods of appreciation stroked her ego a small bit, it mostly inspired fear. No more rough-and-tumble men. No more “cook me dinner and warm my bed” attitudes. High-handed cowboys were no longer her thing.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the tingle that started low in her belly at the male interest. She hadn’t dated in three years, and with a teenage son, casual sex wasn’t in her vocabulary.

As she drifted down the hall to her ground-floor hotel room, she was too aware of the moisture pooling between her thighs. For years, she’d been taking care of her own needs, but right now, if presented with a clean-cut man who was not sporting Wranglers and enough testosterone to demand she hand him her heart, she just might fall into his arms.

By the time she’d reached her room, she was aching, dreaming of such a man. Sinking to the bed, she realized the sexual sensations coursing through her body would not go away without attending to them. But first, she had to touch base with her son.

Drake answered on the first ring. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, Drake. How was practice?” She listened intently to his play-by-plays, his excited voice transporting her right to the field of her imagination.

Pride infused her. Drake was slated to have his choice of colleges and to be top pick for the AAA teams if he continued playing with the same skill level and didn’t get injured. He had a deadly pitch with a speed rarely seen in grown men.

At least his father had passed on some good genes. Kent’s strength and physical prowess were undeniable.

When Drake finished, she asked about Andrea. The grandmotherly figure had offered to keep an eye on Drake since he was just twelve. So her son and boss were pretty close. Drake provided Andrea with much-needed company and someone to spoil. And Lord knew Drake adored her home cooking.

“Andrea’s great, Mom. I’d let you talk to her, but she’s making us ice cream sundaes.”

“Ohh, you little beggar.”

She could almost hear Drake’s smile. “Didn’t have to. She makes them every time I stay.”

Hayley grinned, warm inside that her son was well-cared for when she couldn’t be with him. And her being on the road, hunting for flea market finds, meant she’d have a small bonus in her weekly paycheck. Money that wouldn’t go amiss.

She wished Drake a good night and told him she loved him. Then she kicked off her shoes and propped herself up on her stiff hotel bed. For a long minute, she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the low dresser. What was it those guys had seen in her to make them crane their necks?

Her image had little going for it anymore. She was past her prime, well into her thirties, out of shape and looking a lot saggier than those young girls downstairs in the bar.

Shifting, she let her thighs fall apart. They pulled away from each other, slightly sticky with perspiration and her juices. She ran a forefinger down one inner thigh, watching in the mirror. Her skin was still good—golden and supple even if she held some weight.

The light caress sent shocks of want through her belly. That dark ache began, more demanding than usual. Before she knew it, she’d stripped off her dress and panties and was lying spread-eagle before the mirror, fingering her pussy.

A familiar rush of sensation captured her as she circled her clit with one short nail. The bud swelled, the nerves pulsating. Deep in her core, she burned to be stretched, filled.

To diffuse that need, she thrust two fingers into her channel, her breath coming faster. Cream soaked her hand when she pressed on her button simultaneously. Images popped into her head. Strong forearms locked around her as their owner brought his hips into hers again and again, pounding her across the mattress, into the mattress.

With a resounding cry, she came. Waves of sensation raked her out flat then redoubled. Heat clawed her insides as the throbs of her body mimicked those of her wildly-beating heart.

Issuing a choked sigh, she turned onto her side, fingers still buried in her wet folds, though immobile. Gooseflesh lifted all over her body, raising tears with it, as she longed for a manly pair of arms to wrap around her, holding her in the moments following her release.

Chapter Three

“As you can see, these teeth on the bottom are abnormally aligned. This adult tooth hasn’t come down after a number of years, and—” Dr. Brant Foxfire nearly choked off his words as a woman walked through his orthodontics office. The woman. His woman. His Marilyn.

A gawky son trailed behind and was led to a dental chair across the open expanse of the room.

The mother Brant had been talking to about her young daughter’s teeth looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“And…” He gulped as the sexy woman he’d been ogling was given a stool beside her son to await Brant’s consultation.

She crossed her legs, taking care to keep her snug skirt from revealing too much round thigh. Instantly, his body reacted. Gut-twisting want blazed a trail through his body wider than the latest backwoods wildfire. She was here—every sweet, vulnerable inch of her.

Jesus, let me get through these appointments without an erection
.

Too late. His cock was already stirring to life, ready to party outside of his khakis. When was the last time he’d gotten so turned on by a simple glance?

Shifting on the wheeled chair, he tried to hide his not-so-small problem long enough to tell this mom that her kid needed twenty-five hundred dollars in braces and night appliances to straighten her teeth. Not to mention a pricey dental surgery to pull down an impacted adult tooth.

As a cover, he peered inside the child’s mouth.

Fighting to avoid staring at the stunning woman, he found his gaze returning to her once…twice. Honey-blonde hair that hung in a long coil over one shoulder, her foot bouncing, and a slender chain riding up and down the skin of that luscious ankle…

He snapped the fingers of his gloves, pulled them off and tossed them into the wastebasket a few feet away. “Yes, Jenna definitely will require braces. The whole process should take about a year. Karen can tell you more about it, answer any questions you may have, and then she’ll tell you about our payment options.” He rushed through his speech, beating down a burning urge to storm across the room, grab Marilyn and demand that she tell him why she looked as if she were concealing the most exciting secret.

Marilyn leaned forward to hear something her son had to say. A crease lived between her long, pale brows.

He didn’t like seeing it. Pressing his lips gently to the spot until it vanished seemed like the best course of action.

But as he watched, her face suddenly transformed. Lit up. Sunshine seemed to glow from her golden skin and even from this distance, he saw the sparks in her eyes.

Green eyes? Damn, he was aching. With his balls tight against his body, he drowned for a minute in lurid images of setting her on his desk, cradling her head in his palm, and plunging his tongue between her full, sweet lips.

He suppressed a shudder and avoided his assistant Karen’s stare as he hopped off his chair and moved to the next patient down the line. Damn, was he blushing? He despised this uncontrollable reaction. He could control everything around him but that hated blush.

Six dental chairs were occupied from dawn to dusk. In a small town like Reedy, it was shocking just how many kids had crooked teeth. Blame it on country genetics. Or parents who wanted better for their kids than they had. Occasionally, he even treated an adult.

A spear of want went through him. Maybe Marilyn needed a consultation. He could lean over her and smell her shampoo as he dreamed up new ways for her to use her mouth.

“Dr. Foxfire? You remember Addie, don’t you? She was here two weeks ago for a consultation. She’s ready for her expander.”

Fuck. The last thing he wanted to do was look inside Addie’s mouth. Could he possibly place an expander while gaping at Marilyn across the room?

The woman wore a white blouse, and the buttons strained across her full breasts. No, no, no. He fought to think of something—anything—that would douse this aching need.

Puppy abuse.

Ulcers on a leper.

Maniacally laughing clowns.

Then Marilyn moved again, yawning and clapping a hand over her mouth. Her lashes dropped momentarily over her cheeks, dark and curling though she didn’t seem to be wearing a trace of makeup.