Red-Hot Texas Nights (7 page)

“Please. I need it now. Right.
Now
.”

But it had been two long years since he'd been with her and he wasn't about to have it over with just like that. Gathering his control, he pulled away. Not now. Not yet. That's what he told himself.

But then his gaze collided with hers and he saw the fierce glitter in her eyes—a mix of desire and desperation that he felt as fiercely as she did.

She didn't want to wait. She
couldn't
wait.

And suddenly neither could he.

He snatched up his jeans and retrieved a condom from his pocket. After sliding on the latex, he settled between her legs. Bracing himself, he shoved his penis deep into her wet heat and caught himself, his arms braced on either side of her head.

Christ, she felt so good. So fucking
good
.

Her body welcomed him, fitting so tight and snug around him. His heart pounded double time as he relished the sensation a full moment before gripping her lush hips and driving into her again.

She closed her eyes and arched against him, meeting each thrust until his body shook and his cock throbbed. Pleasure drenched his brain and he knew he was close.

But he wasn't going anywhere without her.

He reached down between them and parted her flesh just above the point where he filled her. He caught her swollen clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly, pushing her higher, pulling him up to the point where he hovered just this side of ecstasy.

“
Yes
,” she moaned, her body convulsing around him as the orgasm hit her hard and fast.

He buried himself deep one last time. His body tensed and his muscles tightened and …
there
. His cock exploded and he clenched his teeth against the force of it. A shudder ripped through him, vibrating along every nerve ending as he spilled himself. He collapsed atop her, holding her close as her inner muscles milked him and worked another groan from his tight throat.

The seconds ticked by as he fought to draw an actual breath. When he managed, he loosened his hold and rolled onto his back. He reached for her, but she'd already moved toward the opposite side of the bed. Turning on his side, he leaned up on his elbow and watched as she pushed to her feet and started to retrieve her discarded T-shirt.

“I really need to get going,” she murmured—the same thing she always said before she pulled on her clothes and hightailed it out of his bed. “I've got a lot to do tomorrow.”

“You and me both,” he murmured, watching as she pulled the denim up and over her sweet round ass. Regret ebbed through him and he barely resisted the urge to reach out and haul her back into bed for Round Two. He wanted to touch her again, kiss her again, shove his cock so deep inside that he forget where he ended and she began.

Two years, he reminded himself.

Plenty of time to send any normal, red-blooded man over the edge into the land of the sexually deprived.

While he'd had plenty of opportunity to hook up on the road and sate his appetite, for some reason he just hadn't had the time. He'd been too busy busting his ass and keeping his nose to the grindstone. And then, during those few free moments, he'd just been too damn tired. A man had to sleep, after all.

Now he was horny as hell and wanting more from a woman who clearly didn't want more from him.

He sat up, tossing his legs over the side of the bed just as she shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her keys and purse.

He caught her wrist just as she was about to turn, hauled her down, and gave her a deep, hungry kiss.

And then Tyler did what he always did.

He let go and watched her walk away.

 

CHAPTER 8

It was six a.m. on the dot when Brandy arrived at Sweet Somethings, after five of the best hours of sleep she'd had in a really long time. She felt rested, recharged.

Mostly.

She had spent the entire drive home from the rodeo arena battling the damn lust that chanted
more, more, more.

But she'd needed to go home, get some sleep, keep her head on straight and so she had.

Mostly.

She had spent an extra forty-five minutes tossing and turning and thinking that it had been two years. Two long years and so she was definitely due for more than just a one-night stand as was the norm whenever he rolled into town for a day or two here and there.

One fall from grace.

That's all she gave herself. One chance to cut loose and unleash the bad girl deep inside before she bottled it all up and went back to pretending.

But this was different.

This wasn't six months. Or eight. Or maybe even a year since she'd last cut loose. This was two years. Long enough to have earned herself a second encounter. Maybe even three.

Provided she had the time what with everything going on at the bakery.

Her body ached at the thought and she stiffened. Time and place, she reminded herself, and today was neither. It was Saturday. Her busiest day of the week. Add the fact that she still needed to get in touch with Kenny Roy, and she was all but swamped. Too much so to even contemplate cutting out early and paying another visit to Tyler McCall.

Even if she had desperately missed the purposeful glide of his hand down her back these last two years and the press of his fingertips on the underside of her breast and the feel of his lips at the hollow of her throat—

“Looks like somebody was busy last night.” Ellie's voice pushed past the images rolling through Brandy's brain and yanked her back to reality and the fact that she was no longer alone in the bakery.

Ellie sat her purse on a nearby shelf and reached for an apron, a gleam in her eyes.

“What's that supposed to mean?” The words were out before Brandy could stop them.

“That somebody was busy.”

As in
getting
busy, Brandy's conscience chided.

“You made all this bread,” Ellie went on, glancing at the tray of fresh-baked loaves. “You must have spent half the night here after we got back from Kenny Roy's.”

“I, um, wanted to be prepared.” She reached for a tin of cupcakes she'd just scooped and slid them into the oven before setting the timer and turning back to move the bread to the cooling racks. “It's Saturday. Busiest day of the week.”

Which meant she would have zero time to think about Tyler or the fact that one night hadn't been nearly enough. She wanted him again. And again.

Not him, mind you.
It.

She liked sex. She missed it.

Because she was every bit the bad girl that everyone thought
.

She forced the thought aside. So she liked sex? Contrary to popular opinion, she wasn't ruled by it.

Not now. Not ever.

“Are you okay?” Ellie's voice drew her attention and she glanced up to find the woman eyeing her. “You look a little flushed. You're not coming down with something, are you?”

“Of course not. I'm fine. It's just a little hot in here.” She busied herself pulling down the nearby thermostat. “There. That's better.”

“Because if you're not feeling well, I can handle things here.”

Brandy gave her a pointed stare. “It's Saturday. That means the Senior Ladies Auxiliary will be stopping by to pick up desserts for their weekly book club and the chamber of commerce will want enough apple turnovers to hand out at the local farmers market, not to mention we've got to furnish the desserts for the PTA luncheon and finish the Wilsons' fiftieth-anniversary cake.”

One cake, she reminded herself. As opposed to the two or three or four special-order cakes she needed in order to secure a spot with Hill Country Happily Ever Afters. A dream that would never happen if she didn't get another moonshine sample in time for her meeting with Foggy Bottom Distillers.

“I know we're busy today, but I can still cover if you need to take a break.”

“I don't need a break. All I need is more days like today.”

Busy. Chaotic. Consuming. Enough so that she managed to push Tyler's image to the back burner and focus on work for the rest of the day.

“So I was thinking,” Ellie said later that afternoon, “that maybe I could get off an hour early tonight. If it's okay.”

Brandy arched an eyebrow. “Hot date with the boyfriend?”

“Just a girls' night. You can come if you want to. I mean, it's just Lila and me.” She motioned to the woman busy decorating the last of the cupcakes that were headed for the First Presbyterian Church and tomorrow morning's Sunday school. “Her hands are always so cramped after doing cupcakes for the hellions, so I thought we'd hit the Watering Trough and unwind.”

“I've got way too much left to do here since we started staying open on Sundays,” Brandy replied, “but thanks anyway. You two go on.”

Ellie shrugged. “You know where we're at if you change your mind and want to toss down a couple of shots.”

But it was going to take a lot more than alcohol to relax Brandy. She needed something much more potent.

Some
one
much more potent.

Time and place, she reminded herself. And while a Saturday night was usually the perfect time, it wasn't on this particular Saturday night. Not when she had a bucket of bubbling mash and no one to hand it off to just as soon as it was done.

A few days at the most, she judged after a quick check to make sure the mash was sound and secure and still working its magic.

For now.

But she had a limited amount of time to corner Kenny Roy and get the scoop on his connection, and so she wasn't about to head out to the rodeo arena for another booty call with Tyler McCall.

No matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

 

CHAPTER 9

“Don't tell me you're still at work,” Callie said when Brandy picked up the phone later that night.

“Okay, I won't tell you.”

“Darn it, Brandy. You've got to lighten up just a little.”

“So sayeth the woman who's held down two jobs since the age of sixteen and is still, the last time I looked, juggling both.”

“I'm just helping out Les at the real estate office until he finds a replacement. Then I'll only have the column at the newspaper to worry about.” Callie had found not only the man of her dreams, but the job as well. She'd spent years wanting to be a journalist and just recently she'd landed her very own feature column with the local newspaper.
What's Happening in Rebel
detailed the latest and greatest goings on in their small town and was both insightful and funny thanks to Callie's wit.

Brandy's sister really had hit the jackpot.

Brandy's throat tightened. She swallowed and tried to focus on her older sister's voice.

“… have to slow down and take a breath,” Callie was saying.

“I'll do that when I'm turning a substantial profit and business is booming.”

If that moment ever came.

She tamped down the doubt and gave herself a mental shake. Sure, she had debt. But she had a plan to get out of that debt, which was why she was parked in front of Kenny Roy's house yet again, waiting for the man to come home so that she could find out the name of his connection.

She stared at the lifeless house, the crickets buzzing around her as she sat in the front seat of Bertha, a bag of fries on the seat next to her and a chocolate shake in the drink holder. So much for an exciting Saturday night.

Not that she hadn't thought about swinging by Tyler's before heading out to Kenny Roy's. She had. So much so that she'd nearly burned an entire batch of cupcakes, which was why she'd decided to ignore her screaming hormones and take care of business first.

“Did you even eat dinner—” Callie started.

“Did you find a photographer for the wedding?” Brandy blurted, effectively switching the subject from her workaholic life to the big event.

“There's a guy here at the paper who's really good. Mike Wheeler. He's from a little town east of here, but he's been at the paper for three years now. Weddings aren't exactly his thing, but I think he'd be perfect. His pictures capture so much character. I think if I can come up with a good bribe, he might do it for me. Which brings me to the real reason for my call.”

“You mean you didn't call just to harass me about working too much?”

“Not completely. I mean, that's part of it. You need to take more time off. Have some downtime. Maybe go out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Maybe share that dinner with a certain photographer who went into your bakery the other day and is now convinced you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.”

“Wait a second. I'm your bribe for the photographer?”

“If you agree to dinner. If not, then I'm stuck looking for someone to capture
the
most important day of my life.”

“You're not going to guilt me into this. I don't do blind dates.”

“You don't do any dates, and I'm not trying to guilt you into anything. I'm seriously worried about you and your lack of downtime.”

Brandy thought of the past night with Tyler and fought down a wave of guilt. “No, you're not.”

“Okay, so I understand your dedication, but that doesn't mean I don't want you to have a little fun every now and then. Mike's really cute,” she added. “And you'd be doing me a huge favor.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Well, don't think too long. I need to lock down the date on his schedule.”

“I'll get back to you next week.”

“How about tomorrow?” When Brandy sighed, Callie added, “It's just that the wedding happens to coincide with the annual Cotton Eyed Joe dance festival at the VFW Hall. Mike will have to find someone to cover for him at the festival if he commits to the wedding, but he won't commit until I can promise him a date and—”