Poker Face (6 page)

“Need?” she urged for more, “What do you need?”

His chest rubbed against her nipples as his hands snaked around
her, the tips of her breast hardening in response. Oh dear God! She inhaled
deep wanting to memorize the tantalizing smell of a sexy man.

“The lead in my pencil broke, sugar… I just need a new one,” he
said as his fingers fumbled for the one lolling behind her. The pencil
clattered over the lumber boards stacked on the saw bucks, but then he finally
got hold of it bringing it around in front of her face. He stuck the pencil
over his ear and remained where he was, with their bodies almost touching. An
edge of his mouth quirked up as his hands went to her waist. He took a step
forward, fitting his hard, sculpted body up against hers, his mouth hovering
over hers, breathing warmth on her parted lips. “What were you thinking? That
maybe I’d…” and then he kissed her. His lips felt dry and stiff moving over
hers. Robbie was a neat kisser, neat as in tidy: there was no nipping, no
slurping, no sucking… just his tongue “neatly” circling hers.

Boring and predictable.

She’d at least thought his strong hands would take possession of
her, but they kind of just laid there limp on her sides. Something wasn’t
working. Megan shifted, adjusted the position of her head thinking a different
angle might help. It was the pencil breaking her focus, wasn’t it? She kept
catching glimpses of it out of the corner of her eye. It was distracting. She
tried really hard to concentrate on the gorgeous man whose warm tongue was
invading her mouth, but she suddenly thought of everything, but that. Megan was
seconds away from pulling back when her cell rang.

Their lips broke apart. “Sorry, I need to answer that. It might be
important.” She dove for her cell laid on the sink counter. Thank God! She
glanced at her cell and groaned not sure which was worse, Robbie’s kissing or,
“Hi Mom.”

She held her cell back making sure she’d read the caller ID right,
because all Megan heard was a horrible wailing sound. The chop saw squealed
drowning out her mother’s words. “Hold on mom, I can’t hear you.” She wandered
towards quiet having to go in the front yard to find it. She stopped dead in
her tracks at the sight of Drew’s cell hurtling through the air. It hit the
ground hard, flipped end over end, and split apart the battery tumbling out.
Their gazes met, his full of hurt and anguish. His brow went up as if to
challenge her to say anything.

Ignoring the fluttering in her belly she glared at him pointing at
her own cell still all in one piece. “Do you mind? This is kind of private.”

“Sorry Filly…didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy.” He scooped
up the pieces of his cell and stormed past her. She heard flip-flops on the
steps and the screen door slap close. Rainbows for heaven’s sake! Cowboys don’t
wear freaking Rainbows. She blinked. Could this day get any weirder?

“Meg….” her mother managed to get out on a sob.

Oh right, she’d forgotten her mother was still on the other end.
“What’s wrong? Did somebody die?”

“It’s your stepfather….” more sobs. “We got into a horrible
fight!”

“About?” she asked, although woman’s intuition told her it could
be summed up in one word,
Georgia
.

“I can’t go in to the details right now, the vulture is still
circling…” her voice spiked, the new volume causing Megan to hold her cell away
from her ears until the yelling subsided, “don’t you dare give me that look,
you heartless bastard! You screwed up royally this time! Sorry Megan, besides
telling you will only shock you and cause you to “
loathe
” your
stepfather.”

“Nothing no man ever does would shock me, mom.”

Her mother continued, “Only be forewarned, I have every intention
to castrate the man first chance I get.”

Megan imagined her mother’s vengeful streak and Lorena Bobbitt
came to mind. She had no doubt her mother was capable given the right
circumstances. A cheating husband. Yeah, she could see the crazed look in her
mother’s eyes as she held a butcher knife near his pecker. “Maybe you should come
stay here? At least until things cool off between you two.”

“What, and let the son-of-a-bitch off light? Uh huh, I plan to
stay right here, making his life hell. You’re the one that should come home.
Stop this silliness. Paul never should have sent you there. Jackass!” the last
word was thrown out there for Paul’s benefit.

“Mom, please stop yelling in my ear. I’m not coming home.”

“Have you been mauled?”

Megan blinked. Confused. “Mauled?”

“Yes, by a man.”

“Um no, did you expect me to be?”

“No invitations for sex?”

Robbie’s kiss replayed in Megan’s head, the awkwardness of it, no
matter if it was in rewind or fast forward the outcome was the same, still a
big disappointment. Had her mother picked up on some weird vibe when she’d
answered the phone? How else would she know there was a “
man
”? “Mom, no,
I can’t believe you’re asking me this. I’m here to sell the ranch, not to find
a man to sleep with.”

“Good girl. You stick to that attitude and you won’t go wrong.”

“Is that what your fight was about? Him giving me the ranch? If it
is… I’m sure he didn’t mean to….”

“Meg, have I taught you nothing? Never be so quick to forgive a
man. If you do, you’ll only wind up being the expensive mat he wipes his nasty
feet on.

****

“There is nothing to worry about. I have a plan.” Paul Stratford
said from the opposite end of the couch digging thumbs in the heel of his
wife’s tender foot.

Lying on her back, Lillian glared over at him, slipping her foot
free from his hold. “If you’re wise you won’t touch me.”

“Honey, I have this all under control. Trust me. I’ve gone to
great lengths to place the perfect guy under Megan’s nose. With him around,
Mackenzie’s son will be as good as invisible.”

“Really? And what of this Robbie guy? How well do you know him?
What if your little plan backfires and he ends up breaking my daughter’s heart?
Or worse….”

“I’ve known him long enough to know he’s Megan’s type, and vice
versa. Not only do I get the pleasure of watching Mackenzie’s face when he
loses the bet, but we may also be hearing wedding bells in the near future.”
Stratford bit off his words as Lillian surged to her feet.

He peered up at her with a sudden uneasiness. Lillian leaned over
him with one hand going to the back of the couch, her other hand going to his
crotch, an instantly he was hard. She ignored his erection, her attention going
straight for his dangling sack. His eyes widened as she squeezed painfully
tight, gripping him by the balls literally and metaphorically. “Is that what
this is about? You and Mackenzie’s ongoing feud?

“Not at all, well maybe a little, but I would also like to see
Megan happy, wouldn’t you?” Stratford offered her a sheepish grin, his voice
coming out a little higher than normal.

Her gaze narrowed on him. She wasn’t buying it. “Are you ever
going to stop trying to beat him?”

“Yeah, after I win just once,” he uttered his gaze dropping to her
mouth.

“Funny, I thought you had. If this stupid bet of yours gets my
daughter hurt, I swear to God… you won’t need these anymore.” Her hand
tightened until his expression twisted with pain.

******

Alone at the kitchen table, Megan pulled up a bare foot in her
chair, and frowned down at the chipped frosted pink nail polish on her toes.
She could already feel the downhill slide taking place: from the baggy T-shirt
and softie shorts she’d thrown on after her shower to her hair which rebelled
in the mugginess of the long hot days. Nothing about her was the same. A glass
of milk sat on the table in front of her. Something about milk calmed her
thoughts before bed. She closed her eyes letting the quiet in the house consume
her until she heard the front door creak open.

He made every attempt to be quiet that
much was clear when he accidently ran into something and muttered a low curse
righting back whatever rocked in its place threatening to wake the entire
house.

Megan felt his irritating presence
before he ever said a word. Drew leaned a lazy shoulder against the doorjamb,
hands buried deep in the pockets of his cargo shorts. He was wearing a crisp
white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and brown boat shoes without
socks. The white of the shirt was a contrast against his olive skin. It was the
first time she’d actually seen him attempt to look halfway decent.

“What’s wrong did Robbie leave without
saying goodbye?” The deep words grated over her flesh.

“Go away. I’m not in the mood for your
shit,” she insisted with the rim of the glass pressed to her lips. He removed
his hands from his pockets, strolled over to the refrigerator, opened it, and
took out a carton of milk. He made annoying gulping sounds as he tipped back
the carton taking long pulls. Megan scrunched up her nose eyeing her own glass
of milk. “Do you mind? Other people drink that.”

He lowered the carton giving her a
lopsided grin, then held the carton out to her, before placing it back in the
refrigerator. “You want some. Be my guest.”

“Ew, no, not after your mouth has been
all over it.” Her glass scratched over the tabletop as she shoved it away.
“It’s after one. Did you just get home?’

His grin deepened, “Keeping tabs on me,
Filly?”

She studied his smug expression and the
way he was dressed. There was also a faint hint of cologne coming from his
direction. Hot date, maybe? That would explain the messy hair and sleepy
appearance. He’d just come home from a heavy make-out session with some hoe.
She stood pouring the rest of my milk down the drain. “No. I hadn’t even missed
you until I heard you fumbling through the living room like an idiot.”

Drew leaned a hip against the kitchen
cabinet and he remained that way, watching her leave the room. The bathroom
door clicked closed behind her. She exhaled a long breath allowing her gaze to
travel over the new bath. Robbie had done an amazing job so far. The new toilet
was set, and the walls that surrounded it, although they were nothing but studs
without the sheetrock, it was a major improvement. New beige tile covered the
floor. Megan had selected it herself, and was quite proud. She went over to the
new granite counter top, glanced up in the mirror and grimaced at the how
horrible she looked. Black mascara darkened the underneath of her eyes from her
shower. Her cheeks were red and puffy from too much sun. Crap. She gathered her
hair up in an elastic band piling it on top of her head, turned off the light
and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. The mattress squeaked as she sat
down on the edge. She folded back the down comforter and eased her feet under
it with a sigh of relief. Fatigue washed over her instantly. Her leg slid out
across the cotton sheets until it rubbed up against something solid. A hairy,
warm leg! Megan scrambled out of the bed, her voice boarding hysterical. “What
are doing?”

“Sleeping.” Drew glanced over at her,
punched his pillow a couple of times and then settled back on his side facing
away from her.

“I can see that, but why are you doing
it in my bed?”

He yawned, “Correction… my bed.”

“I thought we’d already established
you’d sleep on the couch?”

“Yeah, well, that was before I realized
my back can’t take it. Now, either lie down and shut up or go sleep on the
couch.”

Megan grabbed hold the covers and
yanked. “I’m not sleeping on the couch! Get out of my bed!

The covers slid off to reveal his bare
shoulder. Her head tilted. Huh, she didn’t know he had a tattoo on his
shoulder. What was that? Something black, a coiled snake? Ridiculous. Was it
some warning of his nature? As if he was coiled and ready to strike at any
moment. The cover slipped further and she saw the cords of muscles stretched along
his side, then a narrow waist. The moonlight from the open blinds caught Drew’s
face as he sat up going for the last corner of the cover still crawling over
the mattress before it fell to the floor, completely out of reach. He clenched
his jaw and shivered wearing nothing more than a pair of navy and green plaid
boxers. His fingers curled into the down material as he snatched it back up on
the mattress, almost dragging her along with it.